The Still of Night (58 page)
Overnight, they upgraded Morgan’s condition to serious because the internal bleeding had subsided. The family set up a regular rotation, though the staff had informed them he would not regain consciousness for days, not until they had control of the many life-threatening injuries within him.
The bruising on his face blackened both eyes, and there were myriad superficial glass cuts. But it was his torso that had taken the brunt of the engine and steering wheel, trapping him and requiring the jaws of life to cut the car away. His collarbone was shattered and his sternum had multiple fractures, as did his left arm and leg. They had surgically repaired the punctured stomach and colon and spleen and removed part of his liver and his entire left kidney. That, and the bruised heart and lungs, warranted the induced coma.
Rick took his turn with Morgan in the middle of the night, accustomed already to spending such times in prayer when necessary. He insisted Noelle guard her strength and make use of the nearby suite they had rented to use when not on watch with Morgan. Rick looked at his older brother, ventilated and intravenously receiving both the drugs that kept him comatose and the nutrients he needed.
“What were you doing, Morgan? I thought you were coming around.” He shook his head. “I should have said more, prayed more, done something.” Well, he could pray now, pray hard, stand in the gap.
Morgan floated in a sea of soft gray down. The uncertainty of his position in space troubled him. He had so little sense of self. Had he left his body and floated now with no destination, no purpose? Was this what there was after death? Was Kelsey out there somewhere?
An image of Kelsey wholly different from the one haunting him in his last conscious moments appeared. She was vibrant, angelic, glowing with health and purity. She said nothing, but her smile sank in like glycerin, dissolving the memory of her tortured body. Her gaze was so sweet it stabbed.
I’m sorry, Kelsey. I never meant to hurt you
.
The peace in her face stilled his mind and a single thought took shape.
Jesus loves you and so do I
.
Why? When he’d been belligerent and rebellious, going his own way and daring God to follow. Why would Jesus love him when his whole life was vanity? It was Kelsey who’d been good and precious. His marrow had destroyed her.
But her smile was radiant.
Jesus loves you
.
Then she was gone and he floated again, cool gray waves of mercy enfolding him, rocking him with a smooth, ceaseless rhythm, carrying the words back and forth, bathing him.
Jesus loves you. Jesus loves you
.
No simple comfort—instead, a sense of awe and deep unworthiness. Reverence and fear. He could not take in the sense of her words, but the years of blaming God came back in his face, his bitterness, his striking back.
Jesus loves you
. That was incomprehensible, but he suddenly wanted to love Jesus, to serve and follow again. To stop running, stop fighting. Utter surrender.
Other images came and went, Mom and Tara, Dad and each member of his family. He almost heard Rick’s voice. And there was Noelle, ripe with child. She shouldn’t be there, sounding so concerned. He wanted to squeeze her hand and tell her to go home.
But mostly he floated. Gray mist filled his mind and lungs and being, making breathing a struggle. Kelsey’s last fight came clear, and the pain of it infused him, each heavy breath a reminder that hers had ceased. His heart ached as it labored, and there was other pain, though he barely touched it.
It was harder now to stay in the gray cocoon. It grew brittle and cracked open. Morgan blinked in the light. Dad was beside him, pressing his hand between his. The features waved, then cleared. Morgan tried to speak, but his throat felt stripped.
“Welcome back, son.”
Morgan drew in the cool air fed into his nostrils. He swallowed. Why was Dad there? But before he could ask, others filled the room, working around him like a colony of ants, moving, touching, talking. Dad was on the phone, and soon Mom was there, as well. Had he dreamed the others?
No. When they moved him to a different room, his sisters came, and Rick and Noelle. It was to Noelle he finally spoke. “You should not be here.”
She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I’m fine. You’re the one we’re worried about.”
“Heart of steel.”
She smiled. “I believe it now. Your doctor’s mystified.”
“No mystery.”
“Basically a miracle.” Mom kissed his cheek from the other side.
A miracle. For him? Why? Why not for Kelsey? He closed his eyes, fresh pain leaking from his pores.
Jesus, why?
“I want to talk to him, too.”
The insistence in Tara’s voice twitched the corners of his mouth. “Come here, imp.”
She pressed her cheek to his. “You scared me to death.”
He winced inside. She had no idea.
Rick spoke from the foot of the bed. “We’re just glad you’re back.”
Was he? He would have traded his life for Kelsey’s, no contest. Maybe he’d tried to. He had a momentary flash of Kelsey’s angelic face. Certainly she participated in God’s redemptive work. That much had come clear.
A woman with straight shoulder-length blond hair and pert fea-tures joined them. “Well, Mr. Spencer. How do you feel?”
He looked down at his casted and bandaged body. “A little beat up.”
“A little?” She raised an eyebrow.
He tried to shrug. Big mistake. “Maybe more than a little.”
She explained to him the seven-hour surgery she had performed and the condition they deemed him in currently. “You have a long recovery ahead. But you’re very lucky to be with us at all.”
Morgan gave her the smile she expected.
Rick said, “God’s not finished with him yet.”
It was not comforting. But then he realized it was. His old cynicism couldn’t withstand the vision of Kelsey’s sweetness. Maybe it was time to listen, to at least try to understand.
Morgan closed his eyes, weary enough to slip away again to that place of waves and gauze.
Jesus loves you
. But why? What had he done to deserve it?
MMorgan’s cell phone to tell him about the funeral. The message that it was not in service was all she got. When she called his house, Consuela said they hadn’t heard from him since he left to see Kelsey. Jill hadn’t had the energy for more. If he wanted to disappear, let him.
They had brought Kelsey’s body home from New Haven and now almost a week after she’d died, they were laying her to rest. Jill stood at the graveside after an incredible service honoring a life that had touched so many others. The hall had been filled with cards and photos of cancer kids who still lived and those who had died, but all had been given hope by Kelsey’s faith.
Jill still could not believe Kelsey was gone, but there was the cas-ket, the cloth-covered grave. No more e-mails. No late-night calls. No chance to introduce her to Morgan. Not even the hope that some-where in Des Moines her little girl thrived.
Jill’s soul was barren.
I know you’re with Jesus now. I’m glad your fight is over. But I miss you so much
. The brief moments Jill had experienced were precious enough to know a dreadful loss. She could not begin to fathom the pain Cinda and Roger must know, having shared every moment of Kelsey’s life.
At the end of the ceremony, Cinda approached. Jill wanted to say something profoundly comforting. But all she could manage was, “How are you and Roger bearing it?”
Cinda hugged her. “The sorrow may last for the night, but His joy comes with the morning. I cling to promises like that.”
Jill’s heart filled with tears. “Thank you for letting me know her.”
Cinda smiled. “That was mostly Kelsey’s doing.”
Jill nodded, the tears overflowing her eyes.
“She wanted you to have this.” Cinda held out a manila envelope. “She asked me to give it to you if she couldn’t.”
Jill took it, breath stilling. One last message from Kelsey? “Thank you.” She carried it to the car, sat a long moment in thought. She wanted to open it right then but didn’t. When she was home, she would open it and treasure each word. She forced herself to drive the speed limit and pay attention to the road. Dan had offered to go with her, but she’d needed to do this alone. She made it home and went inside.
Heart trembling, she dropped to the couch and opened the envelope. There were three items inside. A sealed envelope with Morgan’s name on the outside, the painting he had sent her, and a letter for her. Kelsey must have written it on her laptop and printed it out. It was so like her e-mails Jill smiled painfully.
Hi, Jill. This is one of those “if you’re reading it I’m not around”
letters. I guess it might be hard for you to read, but there are things
I wanted to say, and I might not have the chance. First is, thank you
so much for not aborting me. I know it wasn’t easy for you to go
through what you did, but you gave me life. Maybe you’re thinking
it would be better if you hadn’t, since I didn’t get to live very long.
Don’t think that
.
Jill sucked in a sob and pressed her hand to her mouth. Reliving Kelsey’s suffering in dreams and pensive moments, she had thought it.
My life was not a waste. I know I lived for a reason. I’ve done what I was created to do. I served my Jesus the best I could, and I think others have hope because of me. I might have wanted a different life, a healthy one. But Jesus knew better. So don’t be sad for what I’ve lost. Be happy for what I’ve found.
Thank you for letting me e-mail my gripes and complaints. It helped a lot to be honest, and I liked hearing about you and Morgan. My secret prayer is that you will be there for each other. I know you love him still, and he can’t help but love you. I’m writing him a letter, too, but my sense is he’ll have a harder time. Please help him to know Jesus loves him
.
Jill pressed her eyes shut. Even dying, Kelsey’s concern was for others.
Also, I’m giving you his picture. I don’t think he’ll mind. It gave
me comfort to see his smile and know he wanted to help. Things
don’t always work out the way we want. The trick is to want the
way they work out. I love you and Morgan. Thank you for all you
did.Jesus loves you and so do I!
Kelsey
Tears streamed as she sat and held the letter, reading it again and again.
The trick is to want the way they work out
. God’s will. To want it. Want it. Jill swallowed.
Lord …
She couldn’t form the words, but her intent was there.
Help me to want your will
. And then she voiced it.
She took the painting of Morgan from the envelope and stared at his face. Noelle had captured him so well. She hoped wherever he was he could find that smile again. But what should she do with his letter? She turned it over and found the sticky note.
Jill, please give this to Morgan personally
. Well, that changed things. No stamp and quick delivery to his P.O. box.
She picked up the phone and was told again his cell was out of service. Consuela answered the home phone, but the message was no help. “Señor Morgan is not home. No, I can’t say where he is. I’m sorry.”
Frustrated, Jill called his parents. Someone had to know where he was, and she had to find out, if she was going to fulfill her daughter’s last request. Morgan might not want her to know his whereabouts, but … no answer, no recording. She found Rick’s number through information, but there was no answer there, either. Had Morgan’s whole family disappeared?
She set the letter aside, determined to try again every day if she had to. After six days, she reached Celia and was almost too flustered by an actual response to speak coherently. “I need to find Morgan. I have a letter for him from his daughter, but Kelsey wanted me to give it to him in person.”
Celia was silent a long while. Then she spoke frankly. “You’ll have to wait.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Morgan is not able to see you.”
Jill swallowed the swelling in her throat. “Won’t he want Kelsey’s letter?”
Again Celia was quiet. Then she said simply, “Not yet.”
“But—”
“Morgan needs time to heal. Please give him that.”
Jill hung up. They would all need time to heal. She looked at the letter she held. Maybe it wouldn’t help, would only make it harder for him. She couldn’t believe Kelsey’s words would be anything but wonderful, and yet if he wasn’t ready …
She pressed the envelope to her heart, willing and almost grateful to hold Kelsey’s missive awhile longer. Though she didn’t know the words inside, she guessed the message. When Morgan was ready …
N
oelle stepped out the door and into the glory of new green aspens and dark pines that climbed the crag, crisp blue sky, appreciating the scent of sage and the stable smells of horse manure, hay, and leather. She breathed it in, then turned her attention to the porch of the nearest cabin.
Morgan sat on the stoop, one hand outstretched to steady little William Henry Spencer. She had wanted to name the baby for Rick, but he honored both granddads instead. The toddler took a dive into Morgan’s lap and he laughed, huddling over the gurgling boy, then lifting him to one knee.
She strolled toward them, her finger marking the page in the magazine she carried. Morgan glanced up with the distant, sifted look she was growing accustomed to. He smiled. “This boy is half wiggleworm.”
William bent himself out of Morgan’s lap and all but tumbled off the stoop. He pushed his bottom to the air, then rose back to his feet and hurtled toward her. She scooped him into her arms, the magazine flapping against his back. Little Will had Rick’s walnut eyes and fine golden curls, a beautiful baby and precocious.
She settled onto the stoop beside Morgan, and immediately Will wiggled out of her arms and toddled off to examine something in the gravel. He had walked early as all Spencers did, she’d been informed, and was now one week shy of nine months. He toddled back and patted Morgan’s knee with both palms, just to tease since he had every intention of escaping the moment Morgan caught him.
