The Still of Night (49 page)

Jill squeezed her arm. “I’m so happy.”

Shelly leaned against her. “Good. I’m too shocked to be.”

Jill knew that feeling, shock and terror that what was inside her would change her life forever. And it did. “I will pray for your baby every day.”

Now Shelly smiled. “Throw in a few for me. My stomach is no longer my friend.”

Shelly had asked her to pray! “I will. I remember how that is.”

“I’m not encouraged to think the memory’s fresh after fifteen years.”

Jill held her own waist. “Some things you never forget.” She chewed her lower lip and tried to figure out what on earth was happening in the game. A baby. Shelly was having a baby. Tears stung her eyes, and she prayed no baseball flew her way until they cleared. But then, Dan would snag anything that came within a hundred feet.

Morgan raised a hand to Todd as the kid cleared the secure area of the John Wayne Orange County Airport, a flight attendant at his side. Todd grinned but kept his slouch until Morgan thanked the woman and took Todd’s shoulder in his hand. “Hey, kid.”

“What’s with the baby-sitter?”

The lack of an adjective proved Todd wasn’t really mad.

“Thought you might need a shield in case of terrorists.”

Todd looked to see if he was serious. “I’d take them out with my bare hands.”

Morgan squeezed his shoulder and let him go. “Did you bring swim trunks?”

Todd shook his head. “Don’t got any.”

“Then that’s the first order of business.” They reached the luggage claim and caught Todd’s bag from the carousel. “This it?” Morgan shouldered the bag.

Todd nodded. “You look different.”

“How?”

“Tanner. Skinnier.”

“I told you I was sick. And I went sailing with some friends yesterday.” His athletic trainer, Mick, and two friends from the club. Choppy water and a cooler of beer had proved his stomach was still not up to par. “And I’m not skinny, I’m lean.”

“Stan’s skinny.”

“Well, he’s tall.” They headed toward the exit for shortterm parking.

“My dad had a gut.”

“Heard anything from him?”

Todd didn’t answer as they passed through the doors from the airconditioning to the California sun. Then he said, “He sent me a letter.”

“Did you answer?”

“No.”

They rode the shuttle to the parking lot and disembarked. Todd froze in place when Morgan led him to the Vette, disarmed the alarm, and said, “Get in.”

“Sweet!” Definite improvement in vocabulary. “Is it yours?”

“Yep.”

Morgan tossed his bag into the trunk and got behind the wheel.

“You sold your other one?” Todd felt the gear shift like a puppy’s head.

“No, I have them both.”

“I like the Vette better.” Todd grinned. “Make it squeal.”

Morgan laughed. “Maybe later.” He meandered out of the parking area, paid his fee, and took the highway toward home, surprised how good it felt to have Todd along. “You like tacos?”

Todd nodded. “Yeah.”

He had told Consuela to think along thirteen-year-old-boy lines for this week’s meals. With the traffic congested, they’d be good and hungry when they got there. Todd seemed content to stare at everything with the wind in his face and, if he only knew, a little-boy grin plastered on his mouth. Morgan zoomed the last stretch of road and squealed the turn to his private drive, then coded the gate to open.

Todd shook his head with another grin. “I thought you were lying.”

“About what?” Morgan cruised past his neighbors’ homes.

“How rich you are.”

He pulled into the garage. “I don’t lie to you, Todd. But everything’s relative.”

“What’s that mean?” Todd closed his door and immediately scoped out the backyard through the garage window.

“Means there are guys with more, bigger, and better.” He nudged Todd toward the back door and they stepped out into the yard.

“A pool?”

“Yeah.”

“I could stay here.”

Morgan let him into the game room. “I’m not home much. And you have something with Stan you wouldn’t get with me.”

“What?” His tone was purely skeptical.

“A family.”

“You could marry someone.”

He’d hit the family nail on the head. “Well, I haven’t. Let’s make a deal.”

“What deal?” Todd headed straight to the pool table and rolled the cue ball at the form holding the rest of the balls.

“You don’t bug me to stay past the week, and I’ll see if I can get you back out here soon. Maybe all four of you.”

He looked less than enthused about that.

“And I’ve got an all-day pass to Disneyland.”

Todd glared.

“Ever been there?”

He shook his head.

Morgan smiled. “Good. Hungry?”

Todd shrugged.

Morgan sighed. “Listen, Todd. I’m not taking Stan’s place. You’ve got a family that cares for you. Think of me as your godfather. You come here once or twice a year to get spoiled, then toe the line for Stan the rest of the time.”

Todd kicked the toe of his tennis shoe on the carved mahogany leg of the pool table.

“You can spend this week sulking, or we can have some fun. It’s up to you.”

Todd looked sidelong. “Okay.”

Morgan gripped his shoulder. “Let’s see what Consuela’s done for us.”

She had done tacos, corn, gazpacho—which Todd wouldn’t touch, but Morgan thoroughly enjoyed—and chocolate sheet cake with chocolate-chip ice cream for dessert. Todd was coming into some growth, Morgan noted, and ate accordingly. Good. Maybe before the school year started he’d have a little size on him.

While the evening was fresh, they went to town and rented movies and bought Todd swim trunks. “Tomorrow you can check out the waves. Ever bodysurfed?”

“I never saw an ocean before.” Todd stared at it in the distance from where they stood on the sidewalk in town.

“Well, come on.” Morgan drove them home, then walked Todd down to the beach. It wasn’t the same as sharing the sunset with Jill, but it swelled his heart to see Todd dash around barefoot when the purling waves chased in on him, then stoop to pick up every broken shell along the way. The week’s end might be just as hard on him as on the kid.

Jill jolted up and stared at her alarm clock. 1:30 A.M.—11:30 P.M. on the West Coast. Dream images raced through her head, keeping time with her heart. She glanced at the phone. It was crazy to call. What was she going to say? Morgan, I had a bad dream? But what if it was more than a dream? It was potent enough to be a premonition, though she’d never had anything like that. She pressed a hand to her eyes and prayed for the fear to leave her. The images were too real. She had to know he was all right.

She slid over and picked up the phone. He was a night owl; their time together had shown her that. But his cell phone kept ringing and each ring increased the dread. She gripped the front of her nightshirt. Six rings and his voice mail answered. “Morgan, it’s Jill. Please call.” She hung up.
Lord God, please
. It was Saturday night. He could be out, probably had a date.

Her phone rang and she snatched it up. “Morgan?”

“Is it Kelsey?”

It took her a moment to still her breath, and then she said, “No, no, it’s … you’re all right?”

“Last time I looked.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.” She released the wadded ball of nightshirt.

“I was on the balcony, barely heard the cell from the office.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

She released a long breath, chagrined that he sounded so calm, so safe and fine. “You’ll think I’m silly.”

“Just tell me.”

She stuffed a second pillow under her head. “I had an awful dream.”

He made a small shuffling noise as he settled in somewhere. “Want to share it?”

Could she say it out loud? “It was so real. I’ve never dreamed anything so kinesthetically.”

“Translate.”

“I felt it, the impact.”

“You were falling?”

“Not me. It was you, Morgan, in your Corvette. You crashed through the guardrail and onto the rocks below.”

“Oh, not my Vette.” The sound of sipping came over the line.

He was making a joke of it. He couldn’t realize the shock she’d experienced. “It was a horrible sound and it hit so hard. I couldn’t breathe.”

“It’s only a dream.”

Like no other dream before. “You couldn’t survive. How could you survive?”

“It’s not real, Jill. But it’s nice to know you care.”

She closed her eyes. “I told you I did.”

“We just can’t let it out.”

“Morgan …”

“Don’t worry. I rather like this clandestine phone affair. Like a fiber-optic Romeo and Juliet. We’re safe as long as no one checks my phone records.”

“Please don’t.”

“It’s actually a nice change from women who want the world to know I’m theirs.”

She cradled her face in her hand. “Did I take you from one?” She could too easily picture him sharing the moonlit view from his balcony.

“No. I was out there alone, attempting a glass of Cognac.”

“Attempting?” That was an odd word choice.

“This bug seems to have an aversion to alcohol in my system.”

Jill sat up. “Really?”

“I hear your disappointment. But be assured I’m trying everything I can to overcome it.” Another long sip.

“Is it only alcohol?”

“At this point food is no longer a problem.”

Kelsey’s words came clear.
“I got this idea like there was something in
his life that kept him from knowing that love. So I was praying against it,
and I just knew God wanted me to pray for him to get sick.”

Jill covered her mouth to hide the sudden exultation. Was such a thing even possible? His daughter’s prayers could have such an effect? If it was directly ordered by God!
“Jesus really wants me to pray that
prayer.”

“I don’t think you should fight it, Morgan. There could be a reason.”

“Some purpose in the stars?” A clearly cynical tone.

“Some purpose, yes.”

He sighed. “I have news for you, Jill. There is no purpose.”

“You’re wrong, Morgan.” And she suddenly knew it in every part of her.

A long pause, then, “There. Cognac successfully imbibed. I think I’ll toast my next one to purpose, in your honor.”

She regretted what he had in store, especially if she added her prayers to Kelsey’s. “Don’t drive.”

“No fear. I’m rather attached to that Corvette.”

Morgan refilled the cordial glass. Finally a liquor his body didn’t resist. And just in time with Jill’s sweet concern still warm in his ears. So she was dreaming of him—dead. An interesting twist of the subconscious. He drew the Cognac into his mouth and savored it. It probably would be easier for her that way.

No, he was not wallowing, merely pensive. Would she get on with her life if he were permanently removed from the picture? And when had his focus shifted? His intention had been to see his daughter. Jill had been his means. He wanted that still, though his legal possibilities were flimsy at best. And somehow it had gotten complicated. Talking to Kelsey, being with Jill. It was no longer cut-and-dried. His daughter had reached out, and he was still not recovered from her sweet voice, her thoughtfulness.

“I wanted to thank you in advance.”
Would she thank him for making trouble? For throwing his weight around and using his resources when he knew better than anyone the Bensons could ill afford to compete financially. He could force a meeting with Kelsey, but at what cost? Maybe he should contact her through the Web site, let it be her choice. But he knew inside that wasn’t right.

And now the past had seeped in and made it murkier still. He had put Jill on a plane to stop the freefall of his heart. He had not expected letters and calls, not the sound of her voice in the night, fearful and concerned for him. As long as no one else would know. Fiber-optic Romeo and Juliet was right on the mark. A passion to die for. But all in the dark. He drained the cordial glass like a shot. Only in the secrecy of her balcony.

He poured another slender crystal glassful. The Cognac was hitting a mostly empty stomach. Todd had talked him into delivered pizza for dinner, and one slice of that had sufficed. He welcomed the buzz that blurred his Juliet’s sweet visage. Raising the delicate glass, he anticipated the burn, then took the Cognac once again in a single draught.

Careful now. Don’t overdo the first precious succor allowed him by his traitorous flesh. Time for bed. He got up and steadied himself with a hand to the chair. In the dark, he groped past the pool table and knocked his shin on the curve of its leg. “Aah.” He held the shin until the pain subsided, then gripped the banister, looked up the stairs and called, “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Jill is the sun.”

He climbed two stairs and wavered. “The brightness of her eyes would shame the stars as daylight doth a lamp.” He steadied himself at the top, crossed the shadowed great room, and started down the hall. “Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek.” But one touch leads to another. Better to keep his hands to himself.

He passed the room where Jill had slept, then paused at the next one on the other side of the bathroom. There was movement inside; maybe Todd couldn’t sleep. Morgan tapped a knuckle, then opened the door to check.

A missile slammed the wall beside his face. He flung the door wide and threw up a hand.

“Get out! I hate you!”

Something else smashed against the wall, and Morgan staggered back.

Todd charged to the center of the room, wielding a wooden hanger. “If you hit me, I’ll bash your head in.”

Morgan gripped the doorframe. “I’m not going to hit you. Why on earth would I hit you?”

Todd’s face screwed up. “You stink. Get out!”

“I just wanted … I was checking to see if you were okay.”

Todd threw the hanger and Morgan ducked. “You’re drunk!” He ran full force and slammed the door shut.

Morgan stood in the hall, vaguely aware that Consuela had appeared and was flapping him toward his own room like a hen on a chick. He dropped to his bedside while she tugged off his shoes. “You are drunk, señor. You scared the boy.”