A Heart to Heal

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“A what?”

“Aw, come on—you think I can’t tell? Someone has a thought, usually to do with my paralysis, that they think is totally awful and cruel, usually because it is, and their face goes all screwy like yours just did. I call them ‘cripple thoughts,’ because that’s the most offensive word for what I am.”

She felt horrendously exposed. Guilty and trapped. What on earth was she supposed to do? Why did Max feel as if he had to shove the awkwardness in everyone’s face like this?

“Look, just get over it, okay? It’s easier if you admit this is weird. I hate tiptoeing around the issue. You had a cripple thought. It’s gonna happen. I’m used to it. I can see it a mile off.”

Heather launched up off the wall. “Why do you do that? It was a terrible thing to think and I’m already ashamed of myself, so why are you making me feel so bad about it when you were just so incredibly nice to Simon?”

Max spun around to follow her. “There. See? You can yell at me for being a jerk just like any other guy. Glad we got that out of the way.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re awful—you know that?” But, she had to admit, the tension had just evaporated. Crude as it was, he was breaking down her misconceptions about him one at a time. Ten minutes ago she would not have felt free to tell him he was awful. He’d sensed her pity even before she had, and he’d called her on it because he didn’t want pity from her. Or anyone.

“Awful is a personal specialty. Just don’t sugarcoat things for me on account of my wheels, okay? I can take just about anything but that.” He motioned to the wall again, silently asking her to sit down so they could be eye to eye again. Heather was coming to realize how important that courtesy was to him.

“So,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “how about we start that part over?”

Heather cleared her throat. She would do as he asked; she would treat him as she would treat any other person who had just done something incredibly nice for Simon. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee and a slice of pie at Karl’s to show my appreciation?”

It was fun to be the one surprising him for once. He wasn’t expecting that. “Celebrate our little victory over helicopter dad?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “When you put it that way...”

“No. I mean, I won’t put it that way. Which means yes. Yes to coffee. If you’re buying.”

“I am.”

“Only if I drive.”

How had she known there’d be a catch to his yes? “You drive?”

“Yep. If you’re willing to ride in the flaming toaster, I’ll know you really mean it.”

“Is everything a test with you?”

There was that glint again. “Only the good stuff.”

She might regret this. “I’ll go get my handbag—since I’m paying and all.” She walked toward the door, then turned around again. “The flaming toaster?”

“JJ’s name. Fits.”

She didn’t know what to say. I feel that a lot around you, she thought as she pulled the door open and went inside.

* * *

Max punched JJ’s number into his cell phone the minute the school door shut behind Heather.

“Hi there,” she answered. “I just put the steaks into the marinade.”

“I might not make dinner. I don’t have a ton of time to talk, but I’m heading out for coffee with Heather Browning.”

Silence greeted his news.

“Look, we can have dinner tomorrow night, right?”

Another long pause. “Max, don’t.”

Oh, she was a master of the big-sister tone of conviction. “What?”

“You promised me you wouldn’t get personal with Heather. She’s a friend. You were helping her out. Now you’re going to go all Max on her, aren’t you?” Max could practically hear her stabbing the steaks with a sharp fork over the phone.

“I’m not doing anything. She invited me out for coffee. A friendly celebration over something good that happened with Simon.”

“You don’t know how to do friendly, Max. Please don’t get into this with Heather.”

Now she was getting annoying. “Get into what, exactly?” Sure, Max had left a long line of broken hearts in his wake before his accident, but he hadn’t exactly boasted a stuffed social calendar since. “So now that I’m in a wheelchair, the entire female gender is off-limits?”

“You can date anyone you like, Max, as long as it’s not Heather.”

“Who said I was even dating Heather? Or planning to date her? Jumping to a few conclusions, aren’t you?” Max kept one eye on the door. “You’re out of line here, JJ.”

There was a pause on her end of the line. “I just don’t want you...well...you know.”

“Wow. Your confidence in me staggers the mind. It’s pie and coffee at Karl’s, for crying out loud. And she asked. Give me a little credit here.”

“Credit or not, you’re still blowing Alex and me off for dinner. We’ve been planning this for two weeks.”

She was right about that much. Between her shifts at the firehouse and Alex’s schedule, getting together was proving nearly impossible lately. “What if I came by at seven—would that work?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” After a moment she added, “I miss you, Max. I used to see you all the time and now—”

“Hey. We’re still Max and JJ. Besides, you’ve got that spiffy new groom to keep you occupied.”

“That spiffy new groom also happens to be your boss. Have you considered you were just trying to ditch your boss, too?”

“I’m trying to help a kid out, JJ. That’s all this is.”

“Look, I just want you to steer clear of Heather in the date department. You know your track record. She’s a friend. This could get all kinds of weird, you know?”

It bugged Max that his own sister thought of him as toxic in the boyfriend department. Sure, he wasn’t a master of solid relationships, and all her cautiousness hinted at a seriously painful past, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a decent human being over a slice of pie. “It’s just coffee, JJ. I gotta go.”

“Be nice, Max. Nice? Do you remember how?”

Chapter Six (#ulink_12d6a495-b78d-5d35-b00b-9c8adf35f1e0)

Max hit the remote-control button that slowly opened the double doors on his adapted Honda Element. Heather was surprised to see the pair of doors open from the middle like French doors, but it made sense given the large opening they formed.

“Ta-da!” Max imitated a trumpet fanfare as if the gates to his castle were being raised. He was always cracking jokes. Max was like a kid that way—ramping up the wisecracks when he was nervous or uncomfortable. The mechanized ramp unfolded, making the drawbridge metaphor a little more apt, and Max waved her on board with a grandiose gesture. “Ladies first. You get to ride like I’m your chauffeur this time. I can put in the passenger seat with a little more notice, but right now my chair goes there. Although I’ll warn you, it’s not the cleanest car in the world. Just shove everything over on the backseat and make room for yourself.”

She walked up the ramp, surprised to see the backseats were a little higher than the front seats. It made her feel like a spectator instead of a passenger; an odd sensation. True to Max’s warning, Heather had to move three T-shirts, a fast-food bag and a pair of sports magazines over to make a spot to sit. Max rolled on board and went through the process of securing his chair where the passenger seat usually went, then shifted himself into the driver’s seat and rotated it into position.

“It’s amazing,” Heather said, watching the adaptations. It was both interesting and a little unnerving to be in his car. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even been in the backseat of a car, much less one as tricked out as this.

Max caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “You didn’t think I’d drive a minivan, did you?”

“No, the paint job pretty much gives your taste in cars away.” He turned the ignition, sending a deafening blast of loud music through the car.

“Sorry!” he hollered as he quickly lowered the volume. “I like it loud.” The engine roared to life, loud enough without the music. He really was like a teenage boy in too many ways.

He grinned and adopted a terrible highbrow accent. “To Karl’s, madam?”

“Yes, please.” She watched in fascination as he worked the hand controls that pulled the car out and into gear. “Was it hard to learn to drive?”

“The hand controls?” Max called over his shoulder. “Not really. I just think of it like a real-live video game. I took out a mailbox my first week, but it’s been smooth sailing since then. I had more accidents with my old walking car than I’ve had with this one.”

It was a matter of minutes before he pulled up into the accessible spot around the corner from Karl’s Koffee. “I get all the best spots at the mall,” he said, doing a spot-on imitation of a teenage girl as he hit the button to reopen the automated doors. She climbed out, then waited on the sidewalk for him to shift into his chair and come down the ramp.

“This is where it gets a bit tricky. Karl’s front has steps, so I get to use the secret entrance.”

“That sounds fun,” she replied.

His eyes darkened a bit. “You’d think, but not really. You can meet me around front if you’d like.”

She didn’t know if this was another of those diversionary tactics like he’d coached Simon to use or a true invitation. She decided to see Karl’s from his point of view. “I’ll go for what’s behind door number two.”

Max’s smile was pleased but cautious. They went around to the back of the establishment, where Max hit a doorbell. After about a minute, Karl, the friendly older man who owned the place, pushed open the door. “Maxwell! Saw that boat out on the river the other day—pretty spiffy. It’s good to see ya, son. Gimme a second to clear the decks.”

Heather felt a twinge of guilt as Karl went back inside. “I didn’t even think about the front steps before I suggested Karl’s. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Max almost looked as though he meant it. Was he really okay with her choice, or was he using this as a lesson in how challenging Gordon Falls could be for him? “I was a regular here back before I got hurt, and I’ve always liked the place. He just has to move a few things to give me a clear shot to the front. He’s always good about it, but...” Max finished the thought with weary eyes rather than words. “I can get in easier at Café Homestead, but I like their pie better here. You gave me an excuse to make the extra effort.”

“Me, too. Everyone always goes there for pie, but I think it’s better here.”

The door reopened. “Okay, all set. Corner table’s all waiting.”

“You rate the corner table at Karl’s?” Heather asked. It was always taken when she came here, and it was a favorite spot with the best view out the window.

“Sort of,” Max admitted. “It’s the only place I fit, so it’s a backhanded benefit. Evidently you get a free coffee if Karl has to move you to make room for me.” He said it with a cheerful tone Heather didn’t fully believe.

He had good reason. Heather was astounded how much effort it took to get Max through the back of the coffeehouse, around the existing tables and settled in the corner spot. It made her feel terrible at how easily she breezed in whenever she felt like it.

“Don’t go all pity party on me.” He sent her a dismissive grin, tossing back his tousled hair. “I get seated first on the airplane, and if we ever go to Disney World I can get you on Space Mountain without waiting in line. This is nothing. I’m used to it.”

She sat back in her chair. “Why did you ever say yes to here if you knew it would be such a hassle?”

“Because it’s where you wanted to go.” He peered toward the chalkboard that held Karl’s daily offerings. “And like you said, the pie is good here. Besides, I like Karl and I don’t get to see him as much. They have blueberry today. Awesome.” When she stared at him, he added, “Don’t you ever do things that are a hassle just because you want to do them?”

Heather thought of the fifty-minute drive she made to her preferred hairstylist. “I suppose I do.”

“So, are we just pie celebrating, or did today’s victories rate pie a la mode?”

His eyes could stop a train when he smiled like that. “Oh, definitely with ice cream.” Karl had walked up, so when Max nodded in her direction, she said, “Dutch apple pie a la mode and coffee, Karl.”

Karl wrote on the little green notepad he always used. “And what about you, Hot Wheels?”

“Blueberry. With ice cream. And coffee.”

Karl scribbled, then tucked the notepad into his apron pocket. “Done and done. Coming right up, kids.”

Heather laughed. “Kids?”

Max looked after the old man as he limped away. “Karl’s hip isn’t doing so good. Age. I guess to him we’re all kids. He told me once that he has a granddaughter about our age, but I’ve never met her.”

“He didn’t try to set you up?” Max was handsome and Karl poked his nose in everyone’s business.

Max shot her a look that belonged on a pirate. “Would you set me up with your granddaughter?”

She laughed at the way he could make fun of himself so easily. “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I’d hesitate. You drive a flaming toaster, after all.”

He laughed, as well, but Heather caught something in the way Max looked at the man. “How long has your dad been gone? JJ told me he passed away, but I never did ask her much more.”

“Years.” Max tapped his chair. “It’s probably for the best. I don’t think Pops would have handled this too well. My dad was hard-core military. A ‘walk it off’ kind of guy who even had trouble when JJ wouldn’t re-up after all she’d been through. This isn’t a ‘walk it off’ kind of thing, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

Heather decided she would try a different approach. “Why do you make so many jokes about it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, it’s just that you say it doesn’t matter, but you make it matter all the time by making cracks about it. Dark, on-the-edge-of-not-quite-so-funny cracks.”

Max put both elbows on the table and pasted an enthralled look on his face. “No, really, counselor, tell me straight-out what you think my issues are.”

“Close your mouth, son. She’s pretty, but she’s already sitting with you” came Karl’s voice over Heather’s shoulder as he put down the two slices of pie. “Don’t try so hard.”

“This is school related,” Heather felt compelled to point out, waiting for Max to back her up.

“Could have fooled me.” Karl nudged Max’s shoulder. “Nice going, Hot Wheels.”

Heather remembered the one reason she didn’t come to Karl’s more often—it was ground zero for the local gossip chain. Why hadn’t she remembered that if she showed up at Karl’s with Max, it would take about seventeen minutes for folks to start making inferences? She pulled a notebook out of her handbag and put it on the table with a pen.

“Oh, that’ll throw them off for sure,” Max whispered loudly.

“You weren’t helping.”