Regarding Max (M/L, Adult) (Complete)

[Deejonaise]

Chapter 30

When the front door slams two hours later I leap up from where I’ve been crying on the sofa and skid into the foyer. Maria takes one look at my puffy face and red-rimmed eyes and knows immediately that something is wrong. “Katie,” she says, quickly pulling off her jacket and ushering her out of the foyer, “Why don’t you go ahead and get started on your homework. I need to talk to your mom for a minute.” After Katie disappears down the hall and into her bedroom Maria whirls to face me. “What’s happened?”

I sob out the whole sad tale to her right there in the foyer. By the time I’m finished I’m a blubbering mess. Maria leads me back into the living room and presses a wad of tissues into my hand. “So you don’t have any idea where he went?” she prompts after she’s helped to wipe up my face.

I shake my head with a sniffle. “I’m worried about him, Ria,” I say gruffly, “He’s only been driving again for a few weeks. And he was so upset when he left…”

“You should have told him about the affairs long before now, Lizzie,” Maria says shortly. That’s my sister. Full of “I told you so” even when she’s trying to be comforting. But I know that she’s right. She told me straight out that I should give Max the complete truth or give him none at all. At the time I thought keeping the affairs from him was a kindness. Wasn’t all that in the past now? What could it hurt to keep that one small detail from him? And now I knew, now I knew what it could hurt. “How long has he been gone?” Maria sighs.

“Nearly three hours now.”

“Did you call the police?”

“An adult has to be missing twenty-four hours before they’ll investigate,” I tell her. It’s a little detail I found out the time Max came to school for an impromptu visit. I lean forward and press my head between my legs. “Oh god, Maria, what if something’s happened to him?” I moan, “I’ll just die…”

“You won’t die,” Maria argues.

I rear back at her caustic tone and glower at her fiercely. “I’m not being melodramatic here,” I snap out harshly, “I’ve been sitting here for the last three hours with the most awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t felt this way since…since the night he was shot; only now it’s so much worse. If something happens to Max I don’t think I can survive it this time.”

Maria hugs me against her. “Nothing is going to happen to him, Lizzie,” she whispers firmly, “I promise you.” I try to nod, but I imagine I don’t look very convinced. “So what are you going to do when he comes home?” she asks after my hiccups have died down.

“Do about what?” I reply blankly.

“About the baby, Liz,” Maria stresses, “or have you forgotten about that part?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say, wiping at my running nose, “It’s…it’s just not important right now.”

“Oh, yes it’s important,” Maria counters, “Have you even taken the time to consider what you will do if Max decides he wants the baby?”

“I…I…”

“You need to think about it,” she tells me seriously, “It means you’ll be raising a child that’s not yours, a child your husband fathered with another woman. If you can’t deal with that you need to be honest.” I can tell she’s not just speaking for Max and me right now, but for herself as well. She doesn’t want Christopher to come up in the same resentful household that she did. She doesn’t want me to hold this child accountable for his father’s mistakes. “If you can’t be a mother to this child, a real mother, you need to tell Max that and then deal with the fallout.”

I’m not given the opportunity to respond to her charge for the sudden ringing of the telephone. Thinking it may be Max I make an awkward grab for it. But the call isn’t from Max at all.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

I stride through the emergency room corridor, the clicking of my heels against the floor coinciding with the relieved leaps of my heart. When I reach Max’s room I burst inside. He’s lain out against the cot, a small, white bandage taped along his hairline. I throw myself into his arms without hesitation. “Oh thank god you’re okay!” I cry, hugging him tightly, “I was worried to death!”

I feel his fingers sift through my hair and I almost sob with happiness in reaction. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he says when I pull back and begin tracing my fingers over his bandage. He sweeps up my hand and lays it against his chest. “It’s just a scratch,” he tells me, “Seven stitches…that’s all I needed.”

My wobbly smile doesn’t quite make it. “What happened, baby?” I whisper, skimming my fingers over his cheeks, his lips, his beautiful eyes. I can’t get enough of touching him. For a while I thought I might never be able to do so again.

“I decided to have a knock down, drag out with a tree,” Max jokes shakily, trying to make me smile I think. He accomplishes his goal and more when he adds, “The tree won.”

I stifle a teary giggle and lean forward to brush his forehead with a kiss. “Don’t ever worry me like that again,” I warn.

“Aren’t you mad?” he asks in surprise.

I gape at him in tearful incredulity. “I’m just so relieved you’re alright, Max.”

“But I totaled the car,” he adds almost boyishly. I suddenly feel like he expects me to scold him like a teen-aged boy.

“You don’t know that you did that,” I whisper.

“It’s pretty bad,” he insists.

I close my eyes and expel a sigh. “Max, that’s so not important right now.” He averts his gaze then and I realize what he’s being doing all this time. Max doesn’t want to talk about Tess Harding and the baby anymore than he did before he left the house. But I know this is a discussion we can no longer avoid. Trying to do so nearly got Max killed. I gently frame his face in my hands and turn his eyes back to mine. “Baby, we have to talk about this,” I tell him softly.

He swallows hard. “Yeah…I know.”

“The nurses told me that the doctor plans to release you in a little while,” I say, “We’ll talk about it more when we get home.”

“No,” he protests thickly, “Let’s talk about it now.” I understand what he’s doing. He’s worked up the courage to say what needs to be said now, but if we wait until we get home he might very well lose his conviction. I feel exactly the same and so I nod my head in agreement. “I thought a lot about what you told me, Liz,” Max begins slowly, “In my head I know I’m not the same man who hurt you so terribly, but in my heart,” he taps his chest for emphasis, “I just feel like hell.”

“I don’t blame--,”

“I know you don’t blame me,” he finishes quietly, “But I blame myself. It makes me sick to think what kind of man I must have been before.”

“Max, you weren’t a bad man,” I reply very gently, “just a bad husband.”

He actually quirks his lips in an ironic smile at that. “Thanks…that makes it better, I think.” We smile at each other softly before reality reasserts itself. Max lifts his hand to thread his fingers through my hair with infinite gentleness. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

I capture his hand and kiss his palm. “No more apologies, okay.”

“I hurt you, Liz--,”

“And it’s over,” I interrupt.

“But I still hurt you,” he persists doggedly, “And I’ll probably hurt you even more before it’s all done.”

“Max?” I question with a confused frown.

He sighs, his eyes skittering away with his next words. “I can’t just forget about my baby, Liz.” Max searches my face earnestly. “How do you feel about that?”

I don’t have to think about that at all. I brush his lips with my own, lingering there for a long moment. “I love you, Max…so much,” I whisper finally, “I want whatever it is you want, baby.”

He regards me in silent solemnity. “I want my son.”

His words don’t come as a surprise. Max has too much love in his heart. There’s no way he could learn he had a son and do nothing about it. I wouldn’t have expected any less from him, which was why I thought long and hard about Maria’s wise words on my way to the hospital. I know that I’m not like my mother. I won’t hold his son accountable, or Max for that matter, for mistakes that weren’t their doing. If Max wants to be a father to his son then I want to be a mother.

I lean in close to him so that my forehead is resting against his. “You want to contest the adoption,” I conclude thickly.

“Yes.”

“There are things that must be done first,” I warn him, “You’ll have to establish paternity before anything else.”

“I’ll do that.”

“And I’m sure there will be a big custody battle to follow,” I tell him frankly, “Your son’s been with his adoptive family for the last six weeks. I doubt they’ll just give him over.”

“I’m prepared for that,” Max replies, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t truly understand the battle he will face.

“Max,” I begin gently, “I’m not trying to discourage you, baby, but this isn’t going to be easy for you. The adoptive parents might very well try to make you look incompetent because of what happened to you after the shooting.”

He lowers his eyes, sad and ashamed. Maybe he understands more than I gave him credit for. “I…I understand all that, Liz,” he tells me sadly, “But I can fight them if I know you’ll be there to help me.” He raises honey eyes full of soft beseeching to my face. “Will you help me, Liz?”

“You don’t have to ask that of me,” I reply fiercely, “I will always be here for you, Max. Always. We’ll do this together…every step of the way.” I mean the words utterly, totally and with every ounce of feeling in my soul. Max and I have maintained our love through the good times and now through the bad. Unlike before, when the first bump in the road destroyed us, this time we didn’t crumble but instead we’re standing sure and strong. It hits me right then, finally and completely, that Max and I are real. Our love is no romantic fairytale, no magical dream, but the genuine article. We are soulmates in every sense of the word. Even through the fire we came out standing tall…together, shiny, new and whole.

And nothing will EVER divide us again.

[Deejonaise]

Epilogue Four years later

“Hey boss man, your lady’s here for ya!” Juanito announces the moment I walk into the kitchen. I’ve barely taken two steps before Max is fumbling from behind the cook’s line and is sweeping me up into his arms, kissing me for all his kitchen staff to see. I try not to blush furiously when they burst into applause when we’re done.

“You’re early,” Max says with a soft smile. He runs his hands down the generous slope of my belly. “Not that I’m complaining or anything…I’m glad to see you,” he murmurs, “How’d the last appointment go?” I shudder inwardly when he says last. It’s difficult to believe that tomorrow morning I’ll be induced. I’ve grown rather accustomed to being pregnant.

“Dr. Damon thinks he’s already well over 8 lbs,” I say with an awed smile, “Looks like we‘re going to have yet another butterball, Mr. Evans.”

“Oooh,” Max responds with a sympathetic wince, “I guess that means another c-section, too, huh?”

“That was already a possibility after Katie and Adam anyway,” I say in reply. Neither of my two preceding pregnancies had been easy so I don’t find it surprising that my third child will be delivered via caesarean section as well. “It’s no big deal,” I reassure Max when he still looks pensive.

“Don’t try to brazen this out, Liz,” Max argues, “I know how important it was to you to try and have a VBAC this time.”

“It’s important to me that we have a healthy child…nothing else matters,” I insist. And to prove just how sincere I am I press my lips against his in another breathless kiss.

“God! Don’t you two ever quit?”

We break about in laughing pleasure to find our teenage daughter regarding us in eye rolling exasperation. She is flanked by her three and four year old brothers. However, they immediately make a break for their father when they see him, each one attaching to a leg with childish pleas of “daddy, pick me up.” Max bends down and scoops them both into his arms effortlessly.

“Katie, I thought you were waiting in the car,” I say, biting back a smile at her irritated expression, “What happened?”

“Mom, can you please stop calling me that kiddie name?” she groans with a long-suffering sigh, “I go by Kate now, okay? And the reason I came in is because Chris had to go potty and, of course, if Chris has to go you know that Adam is going to have to go, too. Hi Dad,” she adds belatedly, “You’re still coming to the game, aren‘t you?”

“Would I miss my only daughter’s big soccer championship,” Max teases her drolly, somehow managing to pull her against him even with the boys climbing all over him like little monkeys.

I’m a little surprised by Katie’s uncertainty. I think she knows better by now, but it’s possible that she still harbors some insecurity from before when Max always seemed too busy for her. However now, even with the responsibility of running his own restaurant, Max has yet to miss a single one of Katie’s soccer matches. Max loves his job, but it’s obvious he loves his family more.

“Well, we’d better get a move on,” I say to them, already reaching for Christopher but Max dances out of my reach.

“No,” he protests firmly, “Liz, you’re nine months pregnant, you do not need to be hoisting either of the boys around, especially Chris.” I don’t bother to argue with him, but only smile my acquiesce. It’s ironic that out of all my children I feel the most kinship with Chris, my adoptive son. He’s my baby, my secret treasure. “Here Katie,” Max says, leaning towards her so that she can take Chris, (she doesn’t bother to correct him at all), “Take your brother.”

When Max has one arm free he reaches behind the counter for his comets hat. The moment he slaps it on Katie groans in horror and I giggle. It’s a monstrosity of a hat, really just a giant foam comet colored in bright orange and red. “What?” Max says with feigned innocence, “I’m just showing team spirit.”

We all fall together as a family exiting the kitchen with laughter and smiles. As we do Max calls back to his assistant manager, “Hey, Juanito, I’m leaving now!”

“Go on and knock off the rest of the day, Max!” Juanito tells him, “I can handle it from here on out.”

Max looks at Juanito for a moment before turning back to regard our smiling faces. His decision is plain on his beautiful face even before he says, “Hey thanks, Juanito…I think I’ll do just that.”

The End