The Still of Night (41 page)
He should have kept Denise on the clock and sloughed off Jill. But then he
had
sloughed her off, with all the finesse of a dragon torching his damsel. He drew a slow breath and released it. Why couldn’t he remain cordial with her? He faked it all the time, with people he disliked. Why fail with the person he loved?
Now, there was a root thought. But why not? He was to the point of honesty in this downward slope.
I love Jill Runyan. I’ve always loved
Jill Runyan. I will always love Jill Runyan. So what do you think of that,
Lord?
It must be bad if he was praying.
That was not a prayer
. What was it, then? His own thoughts were betraying him, turning toward God as though He might answer, might care. This would not do. He should have planned a party, a night on the town.
The only thing getting in his way was Jill. “This is not about you, Jill. It’s all about Kelsey, remember?” At the sound of his own voice, he opened his eyes, raised an unsteady hand and pointed across the room. “It’s not about you.”
“I know that.” She spoke and it startled him.
He squinted at the chair across from him, realized she actually did sit there. Wonderful. At least he could pretend he had meant to talk to her.
She crossed and squatted down at his knee, her hand warm on his flesh. “You’re going to be ill, Morgan.”
“I am ill.”
She took his hand. “What can I do?”
Laughing, he raised a knowing finger. “You don’t do that, remember?”
“I doubt you could now, either.”
Her response caught him short. No blushing, no rushing from the room. Actual repartee. What was with that? “I want to.”
“Do you?”
He swallowed. Of course he did. Then he let his hand drop.
She gathered it with his other. “Do you want to lie down?”
“I will not … walk … very well.”
She lowered herself to her knees. “How can I help you?”
Oh, this was rich—on her knees begging to help. Pain rose up and gripped the back of his throat. “Go … away.”
Lifting his hand to her cheek, she shook her head. “I did that once. I won’t leave you again.”
Shards in the fibers of his heart. She wouldn’t accept his sober invitation, but she’d stay out of pity? No, thanks. He slid his hand free. “I told you I have everything I need.” He reached for the glass, dumped it onto the carpet, swung for it and missed, then left it lying.
She sat back on her heels. “I don’t know if you can understand me right now, or if you’ll remember anything I say.”
“Probably not.”
“I want to ask your forgiveness, Morgan. I lied and forced the issue between us. I was responsible for what happened, but I let you take the blame. I wanted to prove how much I loved you, but when it came to it, I loved myself more. I’m so sorry.”
His throat worked over words that would not come. He couldn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”
“I told you I was on the pill so you would make love to me. I didn’t plan it exactly, but I knew very well what I was doing.”
He hung his arm over the side, searching her face and wishing now his vision was clear. “So?”
She moistened her lips. “I let everyone, even you, believe I was led astray, a naïve child misguided. But I wasn’t.”
Did she think she was saying something he didn’t know?
She expelled her breath, her voice rising a notch. “I knew without birth control what could happen. Maybe I even wanted it.”
Now he was catching the thrust, straight in the abdomen.
“But when everything got so crazy, I couldn’t admit it. I let Dad think you’d practically forced yourself on me, that I hadn’t known what was happening.”
Memories rushed. Words, names, his own dad weeping outside. He gripped her arm. “Do you think I care?”
She covered his grip with her palm. “I care, Morgan.”
He dropped his chin and closed his eyes, his hand slipping from her arm. “I am way too drunk to deal with this.”
She sniffed back tears. “Do you want me to tell you again later?”
He expelled a silent laugh. “Spare us both.”
“I can’t. We’ve lived with my lies too long.”
Those lies hadn’t hurt just him. He pushed her away. “My dad wept.”
Her eyes flew to his, ripe with anguish. Did she really think this little episode would undo the hurt? Anger surged. “Oh, he’d teared up before. Actually he’s a softhearted man, you might recall.” Morgan fought a fresh rush of fury. “But I’d never seen him weep. When he got off the phone with your father, he walked out into the yard, held his face, and cried.”
“I know Dad said cruel things ….”
“That wasn’t it. He thought he’d failed, and that failure caused the death of his grandchild.”
Jill clutched her hands at her knees on the floor. “I’m sorry, Morgan. Dad was wrong to lie. He’s not perfect, but—”
“He’s
saved
.” Morgan tasted the word like something pungent.
She searched his face. “Is that why you turned from God?”
His throat worked painfully. “Do you really think, after that, I could pretend to be anything but what I was?”
She sagged.
“Now if you’re through, I think I might sleep.” He closed his eyes, wiping the sight of her from view, but hardly from recall. That would be merciful.
From her crouch on the floor, Jill stared at Morgan. What had she hoped to accomplish? Had she thought her confession would somehow wipe the slate clean? She pressed a hand to her face. And what had induced her to admit she’d all but planned her pregnancy? She had hardly admitted it to herself.
All she had known was that Morgan would not run out on her if it happened. They were both facing college, four years spent apart. She loved him so fiercely. What if he forgot her? Found someone else? She rested her face in her hands. Why hadn’t she trusted God then?
Could He have given her such a love if it wasn’t His will? Other girls were in and out of relationships all the time. No one had ever meant to her what Morgan did. Once her heart was set, it never wavered. Why hadn’t she seen it as the Lord’s blessing? For Morgan Spencer to date no one else his entire senior year—wasn’t that proof enough that they had something special, something that would stand the test of time?
And, God help her, it had, and would continue to. Tears came and soaked into the cracks between her fingers. Morgan was too gone to notice, too jaded to care. But she cried for all they’d lost. If only there were a way to fix it now. She would give up everything for one more chance. And when he sobered, she would tell him that.
Sniffing, she climbed up from her knees. He was out cold. Alcohol, anesthesia, physical and emotional trauma; he might sleep for hours. She stood and looked around the room. A dozen choices for entertainment, to enjoy alone? No wonder Morgan said they were only things. She looked down at him, heart breaking.
I’m sorry, Morgan
.
His office was quiet. Where was Denise? In her little cottage, or had she gone into town? She found Morgan’s laptop and opened it on his desk. Even if Kelsey hadn’t written, she could leave her a note, telling her … Morgan was fine? That he’d come through the procedure with flying colors? Was overjoyed with all of it?
Jill brought up her mail. She could ask Kelsey to pray for him. The purity of their daughter’s prayers would surely soften God’s heart and avail much. Over the next few days with Morgan, she would do the same. Though her prayers were not Kelsey’s, they were the best she could offer.
Dear Kelsey,
I suppose by now you’ve received Morgan’s bone marrow. I cannot tell you how hard I’m praying for this to work. Since you were concerned for him, I thought I’d let you know he came through fine. Sore, of course. But I wondered if you could pray for him ….
How could she expect a fourteen-year-old to understand? But then, Kelsey was no ordinary fourteen-year-old.
Could you pray for his faith and for
… Jill searched for the right word. Healing, forgiveness, restoration. She settled on
peace
. Yes. If Morgan could be at peace with God, with himself, that would be enough. She didn’t want to reveal too much or impugn Morgan in any way. So she left it at that and asked Kelsey how she was feeling, what the next steps were, and assured her of her constant prayers.
Resting her fingers on the keyboard, she had a sudden sensation of purpose. God’s will was at work. Now if she could just keep out of His way. She raised her finger to exit the program, but the mail message came up. Biting her lip, she clicked on the message.
Hi, Jill. I actually feel better today than I have for a long time. The doctor said it had nothing to do with the marrow yet. They’re always careful I don’t get the wrong ideas. But do you know what I think? I think Morgan sent some of himself with it. Like good wishes or hope or love? I don’t mean like he really loves me, but as I sat there with Jesus during the rescue, I was so covered in love. The Lord’s, of course, and Mom and Dad. But I also sensed you and Morgan. Is that crazy?
No, it wasn’t crazy. Not when she loved Kelsey so much, and after Morgan’s response to the phone call … his tenderness had been tangible.
But I just got your note and I’m curious. You said pray for Morgan’s faith? I will, of course, but I’m not sure why. Jesus loves him so much. That’s another thing I sensed today. As I dozed, I had one of my visions. Okay, maybe it was a dream, but where I get this stuff if it isn’t from God, I don’t know. And Morgan was on his knees before Jesus, and Jesus lifted him up and hugged him really tight
.
Jill’s breath stilled. Her eyes closed.
Oh, Lord, thank you
. If only Morgan knew it.
So, yes, I’ll pray for faith and peace. But I have a secret thing I’m praying also. It makes me very happy to think about it. Oh, guess what? Josh came to the hospital. I could only see him through the window, but he threw me a kiss. Now that kind of kiss is O-KAY. Kelsey
Jill smiled and typed her reply.
More than okay. How kind of him to come. Did he know this was your big day?
After a moment,
Yes, he knew. My smile is hurting my face
.
Jill laughed softly, typed,
I love you, Kelsey
. And sent it before she could think too hard. She waited, breath held, praying she hadn’t overstepped.
I love you, too. Don’t let Morgan forget my picture. I want to compare it to my dream vision
.
Jill had to smile again. At close to Kelsey’s age she’d had dream visions of Morgan, too. She didn’t share that with her daughter, only focused on the beauty of what Kelsey shared with her.
She’s the best of both of us, Lord. Please make this work
.
She wandered out to the yard, stood at the edge, and looked out at the ocean. Something dark leaped from the water, and she guessed it was a dolphin. She searched the waves for another sight of it or perhaps more of them. A large bird, skinny legs trailing, dipped down and mounted up with a silver fish flipping about in its beak. The lowering sun opalized the clouds where they thinned, but the sea had a grayer cast than the day before.
She could understand how people listened hour after hour to the ebb and flow of the waves. Even on a tape, that sound brought peace. And there was the fin again, only it wasn’t a dolphin. The creature rose up and spouted. Jill sucked in her breath. She’d never seen a whale, not free out in the ocean. What a sight, though it had been so brief.
Near where it disappeared, a flock of white birds glowed over the water in a ray of sun that shot through the clouds. The trees beside her waved in a breeze, then grew still.
Oh, Lord, so much beauty. So much life
. She wanted Morgan to see it. To know in his soul what Kelsey knew without ever meeting him.
Open his eyes, Lord. Let him know your love
.
M
organ dragged himself from what was nearer coma than sleep at the incessant shaking of his shoulder. The room was shrouded in night, too dark to make out the hand that assailed him. He vaguely remembered Juan walking him up the stairs at Jill’s direction. So why was he being rousted now?
“Wake up. Señor Morgan, wake up.”
He peeled his lids open, blinking against the gritty surface of his eyeballs. Consuela in his bedroom?
“It’s Juan. He’s been arrested. They say he broke into a car.”
Morgan lifted her hand from his shoulder. “Stop shaking me. I’m awake.” Her words penetrated his fog. Juan. He’d known something was up. Suspected, at least. He eased slowly up on one elbow. His back and hips ached. But it could be worse, like his head.
He slid his legs out from the sheets. Consuela was too worked up to notice his boxers or care. He sat up and buried his face in his hands.
“What time is it?”
“Two o’clock. I’ll make you coffee.” She hurried from the room.
He hunched on the edge of the bed, feeling every poke from yesterday’s needle. His head pulsated pain, and his tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. Juan arrested. What was he supposed to do about that? He couldn’t think.
Broke into a car. There were signs in cities like Tijuana where Juan had come from. Do not park here. Car thieves. It was something of a sport down there. Morgan let the weight of his head rest in his palms.
Consuela was back, restoring his soul with the steam of French roast. He gripped the mug and drank. She’d spiked it with bourbon. He raised his brows, surprised.
“Juan called from the police station. He asked for you to come.”
“I don’t know what I can do, Consuela.”
She pressed her hands to her face and started to cry. “If anyone can help him, you—”
“Stealing from cars is not considered honest work up here.”
“Sí. Sí.” She wrung her hands like rags. “He is lazy, I know. But he’s my brother.
Mi hermano pequeño
.”
Morgan took another gulp of coffee. What was she thinking, spiking it like that? “Let me get dressed.”
She went to his closet and pulled out slacks and a long-sleeved cotton-knit shirt. She laid them on the bed beside him then went to his dresser.
