The Proposal at Siesta Key (2 page)

T
hank you, Michael Knoxx, for your wonderful and truly inspiring testimony!” Amos Nolt boomed into the microphone. As everyone in the pavilion clapped politely, he continued. “You and your family's presence have been a blessing to us all. Now, let's give the Knoxx Family another round of applause!”

While the audience clapped, Michael nodded his thanks to their sponsor, smiled at the crowd, and then stepped down from the platform with a feeling of relief. He hadn't known how much longer he was going to be able to last up there. The skin around his prosthesis was feeling pretty bad. Either he'd managed to get a scrape along his scar or he needed to get the top of his prosthesis readjusted. The skin that had healed long ago currently felt as raw as it ever had.

There was not a minute to dwell on his aches and pains, however, because he was immediately surrounded by well-wishers who had been listening to him from all corners of Pinecraft Park.

“
Danke
, Michael,” a man about his father's age said as he clasped his hand in an iron grip. “Your words were what I needed to hear today.”

“I'm glad my story meant something to ya,” Michael said.

“It meant more than something,” the gentleman said quietly as more men and even some children edged their way closer. “It meant the world.”

Michael took in the man's fierce expression, wondering what had made his story of survival resonate so much. Surely being stuck in a ravine and losing half a leg was a bad thing—but meaning the world? He wasn't so sure about that.

But of course, that wasn't the correct response. “I'm grateful you came.
Danke
.” As circumspectly as he could, he glanced toward the horizon. It was after seven o'clock now. Shadows were appearing around the citrus trees and on the shuffleboard court. The day was almost done.

He still had more hands to shake and people to talk to, however. Including one small towheaded boy who was gazing up at him with shining eyes.

“I was in an accident three years ago,” he blurted. “But I didn't have to have my leg cut off like you did.”

The child's expression was so earnest, it eased some of Michael's tension. Actually, he was suddenly finding it hard to keep from smiling. His amputated leg never failed to interest young boys. “That is something to be thankful for. Ain't so?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “Do you ever miss your right foot?”

Michael's lips twitched. Leave it to a child to get to the heart of things.
“Jah.”

“Does it hurt where they cut it off?”

“Not usually.”

“But sometimes it does?”

Michael nodded. “
Jah.
Sometimes it does.” It was a struggle to keep his expression easy and kind. His leg had begun to throb something awful. In a few minutes, he feared he wasn't going
to be able to concentrate on anything but how much he wanted to sit down and remove his prosthesis. It was as if that centralized pain was intent on eating away at every bit of goodness inside him.

The boy tugged at one of his pant legs. “Want to see my hurt?”

Good manners said he should nod. He should kneel down and give the child the attention he deserved. However, Michael had a very strong feeling that if he even tried to kneel there was a very good chance he wouldn't be able to get up on his own.

“Maybe you can show me later,” he said. “After I sit down for a bit.”

Disappointment filled the boy's gaze. “Oh.”

“Sorry, son,” he muttered. “We can talk later.” When the boy turned away, Michael scanned the area. The sun had continued its way down the horizon, and with it, most of the men and women were either walking down the street or pedaling away. The thinning crowds made it easy to locate his sister and brother. They were standing a good five feet away grinning at him like fools. They also weren't doing one single, solitary thing to help.

He didn't blame them. They had no idea he was feeling like someone was slowly, steadily driving a nail into his knee. And even after all this time, he knew they still enjoyed the way the audience crowded around him after he spoke. They were proud of him. Proud of his story. Proud of the way he'd survived for twenty-four hours at the bottom of a ravine after a bicycle accident.

And, because none of them took one another too seriously, they also enjoyed watching Michael squirm under all the attention he received.

Evan always said Michael's celebrity status was his cross to bear.

Because his testimony was always the main focus of their family's events, his brother and sister did most everything behind the scenes. Evan dragged most of their luggage around, as Michael's condition made holding even a duffel bag difficult.

For most of the year, he and his family toured, speaking to anyone and everyone interested in hearing them. When they'd first started these events, their parents had simply referred to them as the Knoxx Family, because they wanted their message of evangelism to be the focus, not the name of their group.

Wherever they went, they were well received. They visited prisons, Amish and Mennonite churches, community auctions, and all manner of Gospel revivals and gatherings. They spoke to crowds, offering a few songs, a wealth of experiences, and shared stories about their belief in the Almighty.

Sometimes his parents would talk and sometimes their time on stage would consist of music. But most of the time, it was just him. And because he believed in the Lord's will so wholeheartedly, he did what was asked of him.

Again and again, he shared his story about being nearly sideswiped by a car in the mountains of Colorado, sliding into the road's gravel shoulder, then falling twenty feet into a narrow ravine. His leg had been badly injured. He'd waited for twenty-four hours to be found, with only the will to live and his belief in the power of prayer to keep him company.

After he'd been rescued, the doctors had done everything they could to save the lower part of his right leg but the damage was just too extensive. In the end, it had been futile. They'd talked to his parents and opted for amputation.

Some had thought he'd mourn the loss of his right calf and foot, but in truth, Michael didn't miss it all that much. When he'd been hurt and alone, afraid he was going to die, he'd spent
a lot of time praying and making promises to the Lord if he survived.

Never once had he asked to survive without injuries.

While in the hospital, a couple of the doctors and nurses asked him to share his story. After hearing it, they'd asked him to speak to their churches. Before long, he'd begun speaking to even bigger crowds, and his family began participating as well.

Which, of course, brought him to the present. Except now he was tired, hiding how much pain he was in, and, not for the first time, wishing their schedule was not so tightly orchestrated.

After another five minutes or so, Evan walked to his side. “You okay? You look kind of pale.”

“Stump's sore,” he said with a smile, since it was just him and his brother. His mother hated him referring to his injury so bluntly. “I think I need to call it a night soon.”

Evan's easy expression turned to concern. “It's that bad? Do you need anything?”

“Nah. Just a good night's sleep. We've been on the road for weeks now. My leg probably could use a rest.”

“I bet you're right. Well, just so you know, I thought it was a real
gut
service tonight. There had to have been over a hundred people here.”

Michael nodded. “I heard almost two hundred. A lot of donations came in, too.” They always collected donations for CAM, Christian Aid Ministry, only taking enough to pay for their living and traveling expenses.

“Molly and I were thinking of taking the Kaufmanns up on their offer of a late supper. Want to come? You could camp out on their couch.”

Michael knew the Kaufmanns from their other visits to Pinecraft. They were a nice family, easy to talk to and undemanding.

But even the thought of being around the Kaufmann family sounded like just another activity he'd have to push himself to get through. He simply couldn't do it.

“Tell them thanks, but I'm not up for it tonight. I'm going to walk back to the inn early.”

“Sure about that?” His tone held a note of doubt. Though his brother liked to tease Michael about the crowds of people he attracted, he was still protective. Evan was two years older than Michael and took his role seriously. “How about I walk you back? Or I can tell someone you need a ride.”

“
Nee
, don't do that.” It was stupid, but even though Michael easily spent two hundred days a year talking to people about his accident, he still hated to be treated any differently. He would have had to be a whole lot worse off to accept his brother's escort. “I'll be fine. I just need to take a cool shower and lie down for a while.” And hope his pain reliever would kick in quickly.

“I'll tell Molly. Mamm and Daed might stay awhile, but we'll head back to the inn within the hour.”

“No need. I'll either be reading or asleep by then. Take your time.”

After giving him another long, searching look, Evan finally nodded. “Okay, see you in the morning.”

Five minutes later, Michael was able to slip out from the crowd and begin the four-block journey to the Orange Blossom Inn. But after two blocks, he was leaning against a fence, hoping and praying the shooting pain that was radiating from his knee would dull. He took one shaky breath after another, doing his best to control the pain.

He was an idiot. He should have accepted Evan's help. Pride really was his enemy. As the pain twisted through his leg again, Michael closed his eyes to fight the burning sensation.

“Excuse me? Mr. Knoxx—Michael—are you okay?”

He opened one eye to see a woman about his age staring at him with concern. She wore a teal dress, which served to highlight her blue eyes. He thought he'd noticed her in the crowd earlier, but he couldn't be sure.

“I'm fine,” he said through clenched teeth. Usually he could fake his way through the worst of it. Tonight, however, it was a different story. It was as if his sore knee had decided it had finally had enough.

“Um, I'm sorry, but I have to tell you that you don't look fine. Not at all.”

What was he supposed to say to that? “Listen, I appreciate your concern. However, there is no reason for it. You ought to get on your way.”

But instead of listening, she stepped a little closer, even going so far as to bend over slightly so she could look him in the eye. For a moment, Michael was sure she was going to touch his arm or shoulder, but she didn't. “My name is Penny. Penny Troyer. I was in the crowd tonight. I heard you speak. You were really inspiring.”

Michael appreciated her words, he truly did. But at the moment, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less than talk about his speech.

Though he knew surviving the accident and having the ability to talk about it were the Lord's work, sometimes he felt he spent too much time talking about his own personal trials and triumphs. There were plenty of people who had been through far more harrowing experiences yet never said a word about it. Plenty of people who didn't talk about their personal tragedies again and again and again.

Almost as soon as he thought that, Michael felt his insides burn with shame. Who was he to look down upon such a blessing?

“Thank you for saying that, uh, Penny,” he replied through clenched teeth. “I am glad you enjoyed hearing my story.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, it was more than that! You have a true gift for storytelling. It's no wonder that everyone was so excited to see you.”

“Danke.”

“You're welcome. Seeing you truly made my day.
Nee
, my week.” She smiled shyly. “Maybe even more than that.”

With a sinking heart, he realized she was making him into something larger than life.

Every once in a while he met girls who looked at him with stars in their eyes, making him out to be something more than he was, just because he had a story to tell and an appealing way of telling it.

“Danke.”
He smiled, but he knew it was probably strained. He really needed to sit down for a while. Maybe a week.

“All that is why I wanted to check to see if you were all right. I could help you get to wherever you're going, if you'd like. May I help you?”

As much as he would like some help, experience had shown him that going anywhere alone with a female fan was a mistake. “I thank you for stopping, but there truly is no cause for concern. I'll be fine.” He would. Eventually.

“Are you sure?”

Actually, he was not. The incision area burned like nothing he could remember in ages. The fear of finally succumbing to his doctors' warnings—that he might have to have another surgery, another round of recovery and therapy—petrified him. And that fear made his words a little harsher and his tone a little colder than he intended. “What I'm trying to tell you is that I don't need you to stand here with me.”

As if stung, she stepped backward. “Oh. I'm sorry. I guess
you must get tired of people always trying to be around you. Wanting to talk to you and ask you questions.”

He popped his chin up and gritted his teeth. Now he was beyond embarrassed. She was reading him all wrong. She thought he was acting like some spoiled rock star or celebrity, worn down by adoring fans. “It's not that. I, uh, do appreciate your concern.”

“But you'd rather be alone.” Hurt and disappointment glistened in her eyes.

Obviously, she was trying hard not to cry. Now he felt like a real jerk. “I'm the one who is sorry. I'm, ah, just not in the mood for conversation right now. It's been a long day, and I'm afraid it's gotten the best of me.” He ached to tell her that he had serious concerns about his ability to make it back to the inn.