The Still of Night (19 page)

“Two more stinkin’ horses.”

Morgan pushed back from the stall. “Come find me when you’re done. We’ll shoot some hoops.” He went back outside to the clear mountain sunshine. It was almost brutal on the eyes, firing a too sharp image to the brain. He missed the hazy blue of the coastal sky, the beating of the surf, the palms waving, and the profuse floral palette. He missed his bedroom with windows on three sides overlooking the sea from the cliff above, the little trail that led to the narrow beach. He missed the sunset on the water, the lights of the crystal ships offshore, the cry of the gulls gliding overhead, the seals barking just close enough to hear, and the dolphins making graceful arcs in the early morning tide.

He passed under the basketball hoop Stan had hung on the side of the barn. As far as he’d seen, it hadn’t done much toward building communication between the man and his foster son. Stan was uncoordinated, made one shot in ten, often chased the ball, and dribbled it off his shoe. He tried, though. Which was more than could be said for Todd. The kid must never have touched a basketball. How did you get to be thirteen and not know that rolling motion that looped the ball up and in?

Morgan shook his head. He’d hate to see the kid on a surfboard. On second thought, maybe he’d enjoy it. Maybe he’d like paddling Todd out over the bouncing breakers to the rolling swells to catch one big enough to get a ride. Morgan picked up the ball leaning against the barn wall. A three-step layup sank it with nothing but net. He dribbled on the hard-packed gravel. Not wood or pavement, but it worked.

He spun and shot. Swish. By the time Todd joined him, he was into his game. But he sent Todd the ball and said, “Just dribble. Cover the court one bounce to each step.”

“What court?”

“Don’t get smart.”

Todd dribbled, no rhythm or regularity, some bounces high, some he had to stoop for.

“Get it even.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.” Morgan took the ball and demonstrated. “Don’t watch the ball, just feel it, let it come back to your hand, but look ahead where you want to go.”

Todd tried again.

“Better. Much better. Keep going.”

“Aren’t we going to shoot?”

“Maybe.” Morgan shrugged. “If you want to.”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.” Todd caught the ball and held it.

“Okay, shoot.”

Todd tossed the ball.
Like a girl,
Morgan thought.

“Here.Come stand in front of me.” He took hold of Todd and the ball and mimicked the motion. “Two hands to here, then this hand takes it up and over. Feel the arc.”

Todd missed, then chased the ball down and tried again. They played until Stan’s Subaru Forester pulled into the yard. Todd’s bones and muscles seemed to morph into putty. His shoulders and face sagged; his pants slid lower down his rear. He handed the ball to Morgan as though he’d just realized it might contaminate him.

Stan climbed out of the car and waved. “Hey, I’ll join you.”

“We’re done.” Todd trudged toward him.

Stan’s body followed Todd’s example. “Did you finish your chores?”

“I’m sure you’ll find something I didn’t do.”

Todd slunk past him and went behind the cabin. Melanie and Sarah had gone back to Denver for some activities of their seventeen year-old son, who was holding down the home front—or maybe just for some semblance of normalcy. Noelle had been hospitalized for pneumonia, its treatment complicated by the pregnancy, and Rick was keeping vigil. For the last few days, it had been just Stan, Todd, and Morgan fending for themselves on the ranch. His exit could prove interesting.

Stan joined him on the court. Morgan handed him the ball.

Stan looked at it. “I’m really bad at this.”

Morgan guessed he wasn’t referring to his athleticism.

Stan rolled the ball between his hands, glanced briefly toward
where the boy had disappeared, and pursed his lips. “We’re worse off than when we came, I think.”

“His anger’s less.”

“With you, maybe. You should have heard how he talked to Melanie the morning before she left.”

Morgan could imagine.

Stan stooped and rolled the ball to the barn wall and asked, “How are you getting through? Why does he trust you?”

Morgan rested his hands on his hips. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not trying so hard. I don’t have as much to lose.”

Stan nodded. “I’m trying. Every minute I think, what can I say, what can I do to make a difference.”

“Why don’t you just take the minutes that come? Let change happen on its own.”

Stan shook his head. “It’s affecting everyone. It’s like we brought in a virus, and little by little we’re all getting sick.”

“If you think of Todd that way, no wonder you’re struggling.”

Stan rubbed his face. “I know. It’s not right. But we were happy. We thought it’d be such a blessing to reach out to a kid in need. In the schools I see so many who just need … something.”

Morgan didn’t have a quick answer to that.

“I think he tries to shock us.”

“Then don’t be shocked.”

Stan frowned. “That’s fine for me. But Melanie and Sarah are not used to that language, that level of hostility. Sarah’s been in private Christian school all her life. Melanie married me right out of Christian college. I thought
we’d
influence
him
.”

“Just listen to him, Stan. Don’t try to change him.”

Stan opened his mouth and expelled a sharp breath. “Is that spoken from experience?”

Morgan cast him a glance.

Stan raised both hands at his sides. “I shouldn’t say anything, but I’m observant. You and Rick … you’re not very much alike.”

Morgan half grinned. “What was your first clue?”

Stan smiled. “There’ve been a few. Morgan, the truth is I don’t have any idea how to reach Todd. When Melanie first talked about doing the foster program, I thought sure. We’ve got a lot to be thankful for, three great kids, not abundant resources but enough. Let’s share the blessing, you know?”

Morgan cocked his head noncommittally.

“I’ve always been, well, good. I don’t have a testimony like some, how God turned my life around from drugs or promiscuity. I just do the right things and serve the Lord and love my family the best I can.” “Like Rick.” Morgan looked across the yard. They made it sound easy. But somehow it hadn’t been that way for him. Choices. It all came down to choices.

“Sometimes, when I see that wall in Todd’s eyes, I wish I had somewhere else to come from, some other perspective.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“I know, but I think maybe that’s why you can reach him where I can’t.” Stan stood a long moment. “I’m grateful for the time you take with Todd. I know he is, too.”

Morgan nodded.

“Were you …” Stan gave a short laugh. “Don’t take this wrong, but were you like him?”

Morgan considered that. “Maybe. Not at that age, but later.” After he’d messed up so bad he couldn’t find his way back. “I sure thought I had all the answers.”

Stan sobered. “Tell me what to do.”

Morgan shook his head.

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Tell people how to fix their problems?”

Morgan sighed. It was businesses he saved, behemoth entities in a capitalistic system. But he engaged Stan’s eyes and held them. “Stop considering Todd a problem.”

Morgan headed for the house. If he reached Denver in a couple hours, he could find a first-class seat and be home by nightfall. He could sleep to the sound of the surf, and Todd and Stan would have the ranch to themselves. Trial by fire. Wasn’t that what Stan was asking for?

With less than her usual confidence, Jill mounted the stairs toward her daughter’s room alone. Cinda had simply said that Kelsey requested a private chat. But why would Kelsey want to see her alone? Why did she ask to see her at all? To thank her for trying? Jill sighed.

There was still hope. Morgan’s first test was the same match as hers, Kelsey’s other haplotype. If they could just get a negative cross match … Jill stopped outside the door.
Lord, help me
. Last time she’d taken her cues from Cinda. Now, seeing Kelsey alone …

“Come in,” Kelsey said before Jill knocked.

Jill pushed the door open with a smile. “How did you know I was there?”

Kelsey blinked slowly. “I heard you on the stairs. I know every creak and snap.” She sat atop the bedcovers, propped up on pillows. “Come in and sit down.” She drew up her knees to make room on the bed.

Jill sat down.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Sure. I was hoping to see you again.” But now that she did, she couldn’t help noticing her frailty. If this was how Kelsey looked in remission… Her head was uncovered again, pale skin on a rounded skull that made Jill think of her as a newborn, even without the fine dark halo she’d been born with.

Kelsey caught her glance. “My hair used to be your color.”

“I guess it will be when it comes in again.” Jill took the chair beside the bed.

Kelsey shrugged. “I’m getting used to being bald.”

“I thought it was radiation that made the hair fall out.”

“Strong chemo drugs do, too. They had to use some big guns to get me in remission this time.” She sighed. “I would have lost it once we found a match anyway.”

“Why?”

“Conditioning radiation.”

“Oh.” Jill wasn’t sure where to take that. She’d read about the conditioning regime that virtually wiped out the patient’s immune system to be replaced by the donor’s, though nowadays they were trying less extreme methods.

Kelsey shifted up slightly in the pile of pillows. “It’s all really toxic. Messes up all kinds of things. That’s why I haven’t developed … you know, breasts.”

“Breasts aren’t everything.” Jill glanced down at her own. “Confessions of a flat-chested woman.”

Kelsey smiled.

“It’s a decided plus for a runner. Nothing bobbing around, flapping in your face.”

Kelsey laughed, then grew serious. “The worst part is I probably can’t have children. But I don’t expect I’ll be around that long any way.”

Jill jolted. “Of course you will!”

Kelsey looked her full in the face. “Will you promise me something?”

Jill nodded.

“Will you be honest with me?”

“I really believe you’ll live, Kelsey. They’ll find another donor ….”

“They already have. Did you know that?”

Jill swallowed. Kelsey had just asked her to be honest.

“Yes, I knew that.”

Kelsey settled back. “I had a dream the other night. I won’t call it a vision, but Jesus does send me visions.”

Again Jill wasn’t sure how to answer. “What kind of visions?”

“Just things He wants me to know.”

“You must feel very close to Him.” And Christ to her. What a wonderful thing. Kelsey’s was the vibrant faith. What a witness she would be to Shelly, to anyone.

“I love my mom more than anyone besides Jesus.”

Jill followed the change of subject. “It’s obvious how much she loves you.”

“But she wasn’t in my dream. You were.”

Jill fumbled a response, unprepared for Kelsey’s frank declaration. “Well, that’s …”

Kelsey looked away. “When I say visions, it’s not like floods or the end of the world or anything. It’s just little things He buries in my heart.”

Jill stayed silent. She knew what was coming and had no answer ready. Surely Cinda wouldn’t want her to lie.

“I look a lot like you, don’t you think?”

Jill’s throat stuck.

“But I must have gotten my eyes from my dad. My bio dad, I mean.”

Tears stung. Jill dropped her gaze to the hands in her lap and realized they were gripping each other for dear life. “Yes, you have Morgan’s eyes.”

“He’s the new donor, isn’t he?”

The tears pooled and Jill blinked them away. “Have you talked to your parents?”

“You promised to be honest.”

Jill met her daughter’s gaze. “Yes. He is.”

“Because they would?’t do a single haplotype match with an unrelated donor. Just like they wouldn’t let me meet you before the transplant if you were just a match in the donor pool. It violates the one-year rule.”

“One year?”

“No contact between unrelated donor and recipient until one year after the procedure. I’ve read all about it on the Web sites, donor pages, medical pages.”

Jill stared. So Kelsey had known.

Kelsey formed an impish smile. “When I asked to meet you, I knew the only way was if we were actually related. Mom couldn’t do it otherwise. She had to have a source of contact outside the donor program. Like adoption records.”

The little imp. “So you knew from the start.”

Kelsey nodded. “You didn’t hide it very well.”

Jill dropped her face and smiled.

“Mom worries so much how I’ll handle things. She tries to protect me, but I know a lot more than she thinks.”

Jill nodded.

“What’s he like?”

Jill drew a jagged breath. She didn’t have to ask who. “Well, he’s handsome. Dark hair and your color eyes. And he’s done very well. I don’t know much else anymore. I hadn’t seen him in years.”

“Why didn’t you marry him?”

Jill faced her unabashed daughter. “I was seventeen. My parents were furious. They wouldn’t let me see him. They did what they thought was right, just as yours did by not telling you—”

“I know that. But sometimes they think I’m still a little girl. I know I look like it.”

“But you’re a brave young woman. And bright.” Jill gave her a wry smile. Not only had the child figured it all out, she’d maneuvered her into confessing and providing the rest of the information, a tactic Jill might have used herself at that age.

Kelsey pierced her suddenly with Morgan’s eyes. “Why did you give me away?”

Her heart staggered. “I obeyed my parents.” Jill would not tell her daughter she’d fought just to save her life. “But I’ve thought of you so often over the years.”

Now Kelsey was silent. They looked into each other’s faces without guile. Jill didn’t know this child, but then, she did. They’d shared the same blood, the same nourishment, the hope and heartbreak. “I’m sorry, Kelsey.” “Don’t be. God knew where I needed to be. I just wanted to know.”

Jill’s heart split.
God knew where she needed to be?
Had God taken her baby because she could not have handled Kelsey’s illness? How would she and Morgan have dealt with it all? Would it have torn apart an immature relationship, left them reeling and fighting? Her heart staggered in her chest. Was she so shallow, so inept? Anger burned up inside. She would have done her best. The same way she’d protected Kelsey from the secret solution of her problem, she would have protected her from … leukemia?