Free Trusting Him by Brenda Minton Page B

for her hand. She had to let him help her. If she didn't, she'd fall. Her legs were cramped and had turned to rubber, all in one. It didn't seem possible.
    "Stop wringing your hands."
    "I'm not wringing my hands." She reached up to undo the buckle on the chin strap of the helmet. Her fingers trembled.
    Michael reached up and undid it for her, his fingers brushing across her throat. She closed her eyes, trying to forget that his face was less than a foot from hers. She couldn't ignore the Oriental spice scent of his cologne and the sweet scent of bubblegum.
    "We're going to have fun."
    She opened her eyes. "Is that a promise or wishful thinking?" Humor, always a good thing to fall back on, didn't help this time. It came out flat, not at all funny.
    "Probably wishful thinking." He took hold of her hand and together they walked toward the home that looked like an English manor house plopped down in the middle of the Ozarks.
    "Do we have to go in?"
    "Well, since that's my dad on the front porch, waving, I would say we don't have a choice."
    "I'm going to be sick."
    "You'll be fine."
    "Remember that I did this for you, okay? If you doubt my sincerity when I say that I'm behind you, and I want you to make it, remember this."
    "I'll remember."
    A few minutes later they were walking through the front door. Michael's grip on her hand tightened. If they held a contest between them to guess who was the most nervous, she figured it would have been a tie.
    And neither of them seemed to fit this place. Michael, dressed in dark slacks and a dark sweater seemed to fit, but he didn't really. Instead he seemed as uncomfortable and out of place as she was in her casual clothing and flip-flops. They were both misfits. For some reason that made her feel better.
    "Michael, you made it." The woman with the hazel-green eyes had to be his mother. She hugged him tight, took a step back and then her gaze fell on Maggie. "And you brought a friend."
    Maggie swallowed against the lump that lodged in her throat and held out a hand. "I'm Maggie Simmons."
    "Nice to meet you, dear, I'm Shelly Carson." Mrs. Carson cast a disparaging look on her son. "Take your guest to the bar, Michael."
    "Mom, no bar." His smile tightened. "We'll find a soda in the kitchen."
    "They have sodas at the bar, and bottled water," Shelly Carson continued.
    Maggie contained herself, but disbelief trembled inside her. An open bar for a son who was honest about his problems. And Maggie had her own problems with drinking. It had controlled her life for several years after her mother's death. It had been a coping mechanism that had almost destroyed her.
    "Mom, we'll go to the kitchen." Michael's hand was back on hers. He led her through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with people who smiled politely and didn't seem to notice that Maggie didn't belong.
    They walked down the tall, arching hallway to a kitchen that Maggie could have fit half her grandmother's house into. "Mom doesn't get it. She tries, but this is her life, and she can't comprehend that it isn't mine."
    "I understand." She didn't know what she meant by the words. She understood his addiction. She understood the problem with his mother. And now she understood why he needed a friend.
    He glanced sideways. "Yes, I think you do."
    He opened the double doors of the restaurant-size refrigerator. "Diet? Water? What do you prefer?"
    "Water, please." She took the bottle he offered. "Michael, I don't drink, either. I understand more than you think."
    He closed the doors and turned, his eyes widening. "Maggie has secrets?"
    "Not really, just past struggles and a story of my own."
    "And you're not ready to share."
    "No, I'm not."
    "Let me show you around. This place is so big we can get lost and not see life for hours. Maybe they'll all be gone by the time we get back."
    The house took some navigating. Maggie could see how a person could get lost. They ended up in a television room, a plasma screen hanging on the wall and a circular