In The Absence Of Light (49 page)

“No.”

“Grant, please.”

“No. I can’t.”

He made me look at him. “Why?”

“Because I love him.”

********

I had the cab driver drop me off at the end of Morgan’s driveway. I hoped the walk would give me time to get all my thoughts in order, but it was like trying to pick up a thousand toothpicks with my toes. Correction: Fifteen hundred toothpicks, there had been a five after the one.

Aunt Jenny’s car was parked out front. A white van with some sort of medical logo sat beside it.  Home supplies, oxygen, lift chairs, and physical therapy transport was written across the back in blue letters, and on the side, windows in white. The front door opened and a black man walked out with Aunt Jenny. He wore jeans and a crisp yellow shirt. They laughed, hugged, and he waved. It wasn’t until he pulled out of the driveway that Aunt Jenny saw me.

Her mouth fell open, and she came running down the steps, and I wound up crushed in her arms.  I must have made some sort of sound 'cause she pushed me back and looked me over.

“I’m okay?” I pressed a hand to my side. “Just a little banged up.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “We thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

“I promised I would. I’m sorry I didn’t call to let you know. But to tell the truth, I thought I wasn’t coming back either. I was scared, Jenny. I didn’t know, I still don’t…”

She shushed me. “You were in the hospital… needed some time to heal. Totally understandable.”

“How’d you know I was in the hospital?”

“Sheriff Parks called the locals there. They couldn’t tell him much; FBI wasn’t sharing info. But that man, Hines, he was on the news. They arrested him. Said there was a shoot-out. Is that what happened to you?”

“Nothing that exciting. It’s a puncture wound. I rolled over on a piece of metal while hiding under a pew.”

“Still gotta hurt. How long were you in the hospital?”

“Got out this morning.”

She looked over my shoulder. “Where’s your truck?”

“I left against doctor’s orders, and he wouldn’t clear me to drive so I took a taxi from the airport. I figured I could go back and get the truck in a couple days. Might have to bum a ride.”

She grinned. “God, Grant. I’m so happy to see you.”  She started toward the house.

I stopped her.  I needed to ask her. I needed to know before I went in there. But if she told me what I feared, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk up those steps. I couldn’t even say for sure I wouldn’t turn around and walk back to the end of the driveway and call the cabbie back.

I think Aunt Jenny knew, because she took me by the elbow and turned me toward the house. I let her lead me like some lost soul through the front door.

“He’s doing really well. Anne thinks it’s because we brought him right home. Goes to PT twice a week, well, three times now since he messed up his ankle.”

I stopped. “How did he hurt his ankle?”

She propped her hands on her hips. “I suspect he tripped over that damn puppy he picked up. Stupid creature is always underfoot.”

“You don’t know?”

The living room had been cleaned up, and there was a new coat of paint on the walls. The couch had been replaced. I couldn’t remember how badly it was damaged, but the dining room table was there. One chair was missing.

In the kitchen, all the pots and pans were back in their place. More new paint. Even part of the doorframe leading to the back porch had been redone. No blood stains, no sign of any of the terrible things that had happened.

I knew without asking, Morgan had done the work. It screamed the care and love he’d put into the house. A person, who only accepted perfection, who took care of the smallest detail to the best of his ability.

My heart fluttered in my chest.

“He still hasn’t talked.”

I turned.

Jenny squeezed my arm. “The specialist thinks it’s just a matter of time.  He said to think of Morgan’s progress as a slow reboot. He was quiet for a while after Lori died, then started talking again like nothing happen. So don’t worry too much.”

“So, he’s okay.”

“He’s doing everything else on his own but…”

“What?”

“Part of him is still missing.” The hope growing inside me shriveled. “Personally, I think it’s because he’s been waiting for that part to come home.”  Jenny took an object out of the pocket of her overalls. I almost didn’t recognize the ring box. It seemed so small in the palm of my hand. I nodded and slipped it into my jeans pocket.

I didn’t see the puppy until it ran through the back door, tongue hanging out the side, tail wagging a million miles an hour. Jenny scooped it up before it could latch onto the ankle of my jeans.

“When he starts talking, first thing I’m gonna ask him is why the hell he got a dog?”

I laughed, and she glanced at me. “Now, c’mon. He’s out back working on something.” With the puppy tucked under her arm, she led me to the back porch.

“What?”

“I have no clue. Not his normal thing. You know, glass. This is wood. And it’s big. Gave me a list to give to Berry, and they delivered the first load two days after he got out of the hospital.”

We walked down the back steps and into the yard. Morgan rocked long slow movements, following the planer in his hands, as he stroked a length of wood set between two sawhorses. Curling flakes covered the ground. Other pieces were set off to the side. The curve in them was deeper like rib bones.

Sweat glistened on his tanned skin, and his jeans hung low enough to reveal he’d dressed in his preferred way. Every muscle in his shoulders and arms contracted with the push of the instrument in his hand.

“He does this all day long, nonstop. Still haven’t a clue as to what he’s supposed to be building.”

“A boat,” I said.

“Yeah,” Jenny snorted. “Well, if I didn’t come and check on him, he’d starve to death. Starts at sunrise, doesn’t quit till he can’t see.” She shook her head. “Why the hell is he building a boat?”

I scratched the puppy behind the ears. “Because a dog isn’t a hobby.” She gave me a look, and I added. “Long story, I’ll tell you later.”

“Well, maybe you can get him to eat more regularly. Damn jeans are about to fall off. Then he’ll be mooning the neighbors.”

She was right, and it made me smile. Jenny laughed. “Not everyone wants to see his ass, Grant.”

Over and over again, Morgan shaped the wood. Sometimes stopping to test the angle with a caress of his hand. His gaze was in that far off place where the sunlight spilled its secrets. Nothing existed for him except the tool he held, and the focus of his attention. My fear returned, but I stomped it down.

“Hey, boy,” Aunt Jenny said. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He continued to work. “Morgan.” Aunt Jenny made one of those ear-piercing whistles and he looked up.  His shoulder jerked and his hand tossed thoughts. Then he stood straighter and the veil of blond curls hiding his eyes parted.

The man I loved met my gaze.

Morgan stumbled on his way around the bench, hopping on one leg in my direction.

“Crutches, Morgan,” Jenny said as she tried to control the wiggling ball of fur in her arms. “Doctor keeps telling you to use the damn crutches.”

He didn’t make it halfway before I had him in my arms. His good leg wrapped around my waist the one in the cast hung by my knee.

His mouth met mine, his tongue pushed in. Either he’d eaten something sweet recently or I’d forgotten just how good he tasted.

Behind me, the screen door shut, and it was just him and me standing in the sunshine, dappled in colored pieces of light.

“God, I missed you.” I petted his face, and he peppered my cheeks in kisses. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I should have. I was scared. I thought… I thought…” I shook my head. “Forgive me.”

He kissed me again, and I lowered him to the ground. His thigh rode over the lump in my pocket. His left eyebrow went up, and he snapped his fingers.

“I promised you I’d be back to do this.” I got down on one knee. My side protested. Morgan gave me a worried look. “It’s nothing. Nothing important. Not right now.” I took the box out of my pocket. My hands shook so hard I couldn’t get a grip on the top. Morgan held my wrists. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I know it’s asking a lot. But I wanted…” He took the ring out of the box and turned it over and over in his fingers. The sun caught the edge, searing it in lines of white.

I put the box on the ground and held his hand. Then I took the ring. I didn’t put it on his finger until he met my gaze again. “Morgan Kade, will you marry me?”

No beach in the world could have compared to his smile. He kissed me again, this time long, slow, exploring my mouth while he mapped my face with his fingertips. When we broke apart, he held me and then one word caressed my cheek. “Yes.”

Chapter Ten

Surrounded by grass so green it looked painted, half of Durstrand, and about a thousand cud chewing bovine, Morgan and I exchanged rings and vows. The rumor mill saved us the need for sending out invitations to anyone local. Although I did mail out one, but wasn’t surprised to hear nothing back.

Not that it mattered, with the number of people who chattered about going, one less person wouldn’t be noticed. As the numbers grew, Toolies was out of the question, so was Morgan’s house, Aunt Jenny’s, and the rec center.

Then we thought we had it beat when Reverend sent a personal invitation to use the church.

The only problem with the rumor mill is details like dates, and times and even names get mixed up.

Reverend Harvey apparently planned on solving that issue by announcing to everyone the right day and time at Sunday morning service. Morgan and I went, mostly to show our appreciation. That was how Reverend Harvey found out I was not in fact marrying Candace Jones on June the eighth, and he turned the Sunday morning service into a lecture about the sanctity of marriage.

He was about three sentences in when Berry stood up in the middle of it all and asked him if he needed a bottle and a nap. No one laughed, but the good Reverend turned ten shades of red and the service took a quick left turn.

Morgan and I left him to his preaching, followed by at least half the church and reconvened at Toolies. There Mr. Newman informed we were to utilize his drive-in theater. The cows insisted.

The cows. How can you say no to cows? Especially when they’re being sacrificed in your honor.

Somewhere between our second hamburger and the wedding cake, I’d spilled punch on my white jacket. Morgan’s was black. Thank God he’d gotten the white pants and mine were black, or I would have looked like I’d taken a shot to the leg.

“It doesn’t show that bad.” Morgan dabbed at the stain some more. It was useless.

“Put some baking soda on it, dear.” Mrs. White leaned on her cane and examined the blotch. “Cold water and baking soda.”

“Vinegar.” That from her friend. Dorothy, I think. She always wore her hair in a big blue beehive.  I made the mistake of commenting on the color once, apparently Dorothy is a bit color blind.

Mrs. White huffed at her friend. “Nonsense, that’ll just make him smell like a pickle. Baking soda, at the most, some peroxide.”

Robert from Jenny’s garage stopped. His cheeks bulged, and green icing coated his lips. He had a plate in his hand with at least three more untouched pieces of cake. “They got stuff at the dollar store that will take it out.” Bits of crumbs sprayed the air landing on his shirt.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said.

Dorothy glared at both of them, and what started as advice turned into an all-out argument. Morgan pulled me away. We walked through clouds of smoke billowing from the open grill. Hotdogs, steaks, hamburgers. If my ribs didn’t already feel like they were going to split, I would have eaten something else. As it was, I was close to having to undo the top button of my pants or risk it popping off and shooting someone’s eye out.

Now wouldn’t that be a wedding day story to tell. We’d be front-page news.

Again.

Apparently the issuing of a marriage license to a same-sex couple won out the announcement of the county fair, a supposed Big Foot sighting, and the breaking and entering of Big John Porta Johns.

Nothing was stolen. Morgan suggested maybe someone just had to go really bad.

I continued to wipe at the stain, and Morgan undid the carnation on the opposite lapel and used it to cover up the pink blotch. “See, all better.”

And a lot less work than baking soda, and it wouldn’t leave me smelling like a pickle.

We held hands and made our way through groups of screaming kids, balloons, and streamers of white broken loose from the fence where the cows stood chewing cud and watching us. Someone had rented an inflatable bouncy ball house. I have no idea why, but it added color and kept most of the kids out of the way and gave something for the teenagers to laugh about.

I didn’t know half the people who showed up at our wedding, and I was willing to bet three-fourths didn’t even live in town—they were there for the food, the cake, the laughter, the all-out weirdness of it all.

I didn’t mind. Tonight I’d have Morgan all to myself and we could exchange the private vows we’d written to each other. And kiss. Really kiss. Without worrying about it winding up on YouTube.

“I was thinking.” Morgan tossed thoughts, then plucked a balloon from the fence and bopped me on the head with it.

“What were you thinking?”

“We should try out the boat.”

The sailboat. Thirty feet long and built by Morgan’s hands. Okay, I helped. Some. When he let me. After telling me all the ways I was doing it wrong. With the inside finished out, it was now as cozy as any cabin. And was great for nights we wanted to stay out late and watch the stars, then only have to move a few yards to get to the bed.

Currently Morgan’s work of art sat in the backyard on a cradle to keep it off the ground. When the sun hit the portholes just right, the colored glass threw beautiful kaleidoscope patterns all over the ground. The boat belonged in a millionaire’s toy collection, not the backyard of two simple men, where it was the favorite sunning spot for one lazy yellow lab.

“I don’t think it would do much in Tom Greer’s pond.” I doubted Tom’s pond was even deep enough for it to float.

Morgan laughed, then he tilted his head. Fragments of light sparkled off the silver garland someone had edged the table where the wedding cake sat surrounded by other cakes. “What about the ocean?” He let go of the balloon in favor of chasing the sunlight glitter reflecting on my jacket. After a long moment, he stopped and raised his chin. “It would work in the ocean. That’s where most people put sailboats.”

“Yeah.” My heart hadn’t beat so hard since the first time he spoke or when I realized he’d somehow snuck back into his old self without me even realizing it. As if nothing happened and the world had gone right again. “Ocean’s a long way off from here.”

“I know.”

“You sure you want to try to go so far from home?”

“I built the boat, just like the house. So in a way, it’s home.” His shoulder jerked and his grip tightened. “I want to try, even if we don’t get very far, I’d still like to try.”

“Why?”

“Because it would make you happy.”

“I’m happy now.”

“Okay, happier.”

I started to argue, and he held up a finger. “Okay, fine. I would love for us to try a trip to the ocean, but if it’s too much, we’ll turn around and come home. Deal?”

To see Morgan on the beach, drenched in sunlight, skin golden brown, hair bleached white, it was nothing more than a fantasy I was pretty sure, but then, he did build a boat with no experience, no instructions, just intuition.

In much the same way he’d changed my life.

I leaned into him. “Just make sure you lather yourself head to toe in sunblock.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I don’t want your important parts to get burned.”

“I plan on wearing swim trunks.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He grinned at me, and I kissed him again. A few ladies carrying casseroles passed by with forlorn looks on their faces.

“Don’t people usually bring food to funerals?”

Morgan snickered. “It is a funeral, for their fantasy fodder.”

I laughed and so did he. We started over to where Jessie and Aunt Jenny were making friends with the beer kegs when a trail of dust popped up on the distant road. Newman had insisted all the cars park at the far edge of the pasture. This one however, ignored the orange cones, continuing toward the crowd.

People turned and conversation hushed. The car stopped just beyond the rows of seating and the stage where Morgan and I had exchanged rings. Covered in a rich blue rug, you never would have known the platform had been built out of old pallets collected from the hardware store.

Orange dust settled on the sedan, taking away the gleam of a fresh wax job. The driver’s side door opened, and Jeff got out. He stood there surveying the crowd, picking at his suit, before sliding on his sunglasses.

Jenny, Jessie, and Berry walked over, plates in one hand, beer in the other, looking to do battle.

“Tell me that son-of-a-bitch ain’t gonna cause no problems,” Aunt Jenny said.

Mr. Newman joined us with a set of keys. “Here.” He held them out to me.

I took them, reluctantly. “Uh, what are those for?”

“Chipper shredder, all gassed up, haven’t fed the hogs yet.” I almost laughed, I mean, there was no way he could be serious, then Berry said, “Have to bury the car.”

Then there was Jessie’s reply. “I got the perfect spot.”

Morgan raised his eyebrows. I gave Mr. Newman back his keys. “I don’t think we’ll need those today.”

“Well, he better have one helluva good reason to be crashing your wedding,” Jenny said.

“I sent him an invitation.” All eyes turned on me. I shrugged. “I didn’t think he'd come.” Obviously I was wrong.

Jenny pointed a finger at me. “You and me, boy, we gonna have a talk after all this, just you, me, and Maybelle.” She walked away, everyone followed, but they didn’t go too far.

Morgan nudged me. “Don’t worry, when the beer wears off she won’t be so…”

“Scary?”  Even with my back to Jenny, her glare all but burned holes through my skull.

“Yeah. And who’s Maybelle?”

“Her twelve gauge.”

I hoped to God she didn’t have it in the trunk of her car.

Jeff made it through the crowd. “Wow, this is…” He surveyed the mix of overalls and Sunday dress, the inflatable bouncy house, the tables, and tables of food, the cows, who had no problem staring back, and the lines of open smokers where hotdogs, hamburgers, and steaks disappeared as fast as they turned brown. “An interesting setup. Definitely a different kind of wedding.”

“Folks got a little excited about the idea of Durstrand issuing its first gay marriage license.”

“I would have thought the protestors would outweigh the partygoers.”

“Well, we did have two.”

“Three,” Morgan corrected.

“The Reverend Harvey, Chad Grizzle, and his dog.”

Jeff looked around.

I said, “They gave up as soon as the steaks hit the grill.” I pointed to Reverend Harvey standing by the fence talking with a group of older women, then Chad sitting under a tree by himself with his dog, who still had his cardboard sign tied around his ribs but had chewed half of it off.

“Still a lot of people. I didn’t think this many people lived in Durstrand.”

“I’m pretty sure only half are locals. But apparently when Mr. Newman fires up the grill, people come from all around.” I picked up a cup of punch off the table, sniffed it to make sure it was virgin, then offered it to Jeff, he declined with a raise of his hand. “Promise, no alcohol.”

“I’m good, thanks, though.”

I drank it.

“So. How is everything?”

I couldn’t see his eyes, but I had a feeling he wasn’t referring to life in general.  My suspicions were confirmed when Morgan said, “You know, if you’re worried about whether or not I’m okay, all you have to do is ask.”

Jeff dropped his chin, still smiling, although it was different. Relieved but at the same time sad. “Something tells me you’re still gonna be more than a handful.” But he said it in a good way. One that left you grinning 'cause you knew you’d gone and done right.

“Of course I am. But I’m worth it.”

“Humble, isn’t he,” Jeff said.

I shrugged. “No need to be humble when it’s the truth.”  I drained the glass and dropped the empty into the garbage bag taped to the edge of the table.

Jeff shook his head while giving the place another look around. “You really went and did it.”

I held up my hand, flashing my ring finger. “Yeah.”

He nodded again, this time more to himself.

I slapped him on the arm. “C’mon, fresh load of burgers are about to come off the grill.”

Jeff tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “I can’t stay, I’m transporting someone to Marco Island.”

“Florida?”

“Yeah?”

“Why would you drive from Chicago to Florida?”

He laughed at the face I made. “I like to drive.” Then Jeff shrugged. “Besides, I had somewhere I wanted to stop along the way.”

I cleared my throat. “So what’s in Florida?”

“I told you I didn’t renew my lease. I just stuck around to see what Hines would get, then took a job in Miami.” Jeff stared at the movie screen, then took another quick look around. “Is this a drive-in theater?”

“Yup.”

“I know Durstrand is fifty years behind, but this is a little rural even for them.”

“Wasn’t built for the townspeople,” Morgan said. “It’s for the cows.”