Page 120 of To Believe In You
“I …” Tim scratched his scalp, then nodded. “Yeah. I was hoping it’d be like ripping off a bandage, but I can see how this wasn’t the nicest plan.”
Matt rubbed his forehead. “I have to teach in half an hour.”
“I told them this afternoon would be a meet-and-greet. All you have to do is say hi. Tomorrow, we’ll show them the studio, maybe take them to Superior Dogs and tour Key of Hope. Since you’re the only one who works there, I figured you’d do that part. Then, they’re on their way again, and you got to meet him.”
Matt massaged his arm, registering the feeling, trying to ground himself in reality and work up the nerve and composure he’d need to go out and say hello to his own son.
“You want me to take the lead?” Gannon posed the question hesitantly. For any other fans, he’d already be out the door.
Matt nodded and found himself following the singer toward the door, John’s hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance.
The sunlight filtered through the nearly bare branches and onto the drive. The bearded man beside Nadia wore jeans and a flannel. Looking serious, he held their four-year-old daughter. Nadia wore a long dress and a jean jacket. Axel stood in front of her, and she clutched his shoulders as if he’d float away like a balloon if she let go.
The boy wore jeans, a green T-shirt, a light jacket, and a hopeful expression. When the band stepped outside, his eyes widened, and as they descended the steps, he craned his neck to look at his mom.
She was too busy offering Matt a strangled smile.
Axel was old enough that he would remember this meeting. As an adult, would he look back and wonder why his parents had been tense? Or would he write it off as nerves surrounding meeting celebrities? Or would he know the truth by then?
Even if Nadia continued to refuse to reveal Matt’s identity, Matt could tell him when he turned eighteen, or with DNA tests so readily available, Axel might stumble across the truth himself.
Gannon started his greetings with the husband, and a moment later, John introduced himself as well. But instead of moving on to meet Nadia and Axel, they remained focused on the guy.
They were giving Matt, Nadia, and Axel space.
A flash of inspiration he could only credit to God moved Matt forward.
Thanks to working at Key of Hope, he’d met plenty of starstruck kids and their mothers. He’d treat Axel the same as he’d treated Chris, secret handshake and all.
He felt anxious and unworthy and vulnerable, but he also felt awe, gratitude, and joy. The last of these emotions, he pushed to the forefront. With a quick smile, he silently thanked Nadia for bringing Axel, then he set his focus on the bright-eyed kid who gawked at him.
“Hey, man.” Matt extended his hand in the first movement of the handshake. He waited until his son’s knuckles bumped his—on the wordlove, tattooed on Matt’s fingers.
At the warm, light touch, Matt’s legs weakened, threatening to drop him to his knees where he could look in the boy’s eyes, find a resemblance, apologize, and ask for a place in his life. Clutch him in a hug.
The action would ruin Nadia’s tenuous trust and perhaps shatter something in his own kid, as if Matt hadn’t already played a big enough role in obstacles Axel would one day have to overcome.
He couldn’t rush into rectifying this. Instead, with faith that God would one day do a much better job at redeeming his broken past than Matt himself ever could, he committed to navigating the situation one step at a time, one cautious interaction, one experience building on another.
Refusing reckless impulse, he opened and turned his hand, guiding Axel into the next step of the handshake. And instead of blowing his cover, when he introduced himself, he simply said, “I’m Matt.”
The kid watched Matt’s hand closely and mirrored his movements at the first indication of the next phase of the handshake. Distractedly, he replied. “Axel.”
Matt caught his hand in a shake, even though it wasn’t part of the routine, and met the boy’s dark blue gaze. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
34
Indirect morning light seeped into the kitchen, gray and lonely. As she rinsed her rag in the sink, Lina blinked to clear the grittiness left over from another sleepless night. If only her mind were as anxious for rest as her body. She’d already vacuumed, mopped the first floor, and cycled two more sets of bedding through the wash. What task could she cross off the list next? Preferably one that didn’t demand much energy.
Something like dusting, but she’d already wiped the thick layer of grime from every surface in the kitchen. Carrying the rag and lemon-scented spray, she stepped into the dining area. Against one wall stood a short bookshelf stuffed with cookbooks and knickknacks. She dusted the wooden whale figurine, then lifted the old family Bible from beside the carving.
The hardcover King James translation hadn’t been Grandma’s primary Bible. Lina passed her rag over the cover, then set the cloth down to crack open the book.
She didn’t recognize the name written in sloppy calligraphy inside. The next pages contained space to write births, deaths, and family trees, but very little had been filled in. The glossy pages for record keeping gave way to tissue-like pages of the text itself.
Lina exhaled. Whether because of the evidence of family history, the knowledge that Grandma had likely been the one to place this Bible here, or the hope Scripture described, calmness wafted over her more strongly than the scent of lemony polish.
She gathered a blanket and a fresh cup of coffee and stole out to the patio. The chilly air soaked through the thin material of her pajamas, and she wrapped the blanket around herself before snuggling into the chair.
