She’d been pretending for thirteen years.
Another weight lifted, and her body relaxed even as her heart sought to rid itself of her years of guilt and regret. She prayed honestly for the first time in too long, turning Cody over to the Lord and embracing the fact that for once, not having control over a situation might just be a good thing. The best thing.
For all of them.
Chapter Eighteen
Max managed to avoid Emma most of the following day, making an extra effort to keep the boys’ and girls’ schedules separate. He could go about Monday business as usual, as long as he didn’t have to look at her. Luke had come in for the afternoon, since Nicole was resting and stable, and offered to take over with the campers while Max arranged for Tonya’s parents to pick her up. He still couldn’t believe he had a pregnant teen, a lying ex-girlfriend and a secret son on the premises.
His beloved camp had morphed into a low-budget soap opera.
He hung up the phone with Tonya’s parents and ran his hand down his jaw. He felt old. Tired. And borderline useless. Not exactly the way he should be feeling as the end of the camp approached. He’d been so sure this would be the best session ever, yet it was shaping up to be an utter failure.
Did God want him to even do this ministry anymore?
He picked up his Bible, tried to quiet the rustlings in his heart, but he couldn’t hear past the layer of anger. It was too raw, too fresh. He just hurt on too many levels—it was as though Emma betrayed him all over again. He’d dealt with the pain of losing her so suddenly, her rash change of mind that now, looking back, made sense. She hadn’t wanted to have a child with him, so she’d bailed. Never looked back.
Until she’d been forced to.
Had the kiss they’d shared last night been real on her part, or more lies? He might never know—and it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if there could be a repeat with this huge barrier between them. No wonder she’d been so guarded in her time at the ranch. The fact that she’d even taken the job he offered was huge. Maybe she’d been seeking to make amends in her own way, knowing she owed him. But no, that wasn’t Emma. Emma wasn’t the type to strive to right wrongs.
That was more his style.
He tucked his Bible back into his desk drawer. No number of Psalms would stop the incessant roiling of his thoughts today. He’d read later when he could make sense of the words beyond his own heartbeat.
He was a dad. A father. He had a son.
It still didn’t make sense, though the uncanny connection he felt to Cody now rang clear. The similarities, the matching stubbornness. That deep desire to help him that went beyond what he’d ever felt toward a camper before.
His son.
How was he supposed to act around Cody? How could he look at the boy the same? Impossible. He couldn’t—nor should he. But when would they tell him? Had Emma even considered the ramifications of that?
He almost wished she’d kept her secret a couple weeks longer.
Max groaned. He wasn’t ready for this. He had no training of his own to be a dad, no example. Look what his own father had been and how Max had turned out. Maybe he’d made it eventually through the worst, but the earlier years...well, he still had a lot of making up to do. A lot to prove. To himself, and to God.