The Still of Night (18 page)
“Well, if you can accomplish that with all this going on, then I’ll believe there’s something to it.”
Jill drew a deep breath. No matter what lay ahead, her trust had to be real. Her friends knew her too well to buy a false gaiety. “I have to sleep now. I’m worn out.”
“I’ll leave you the brownies.”
After Shelly left, Jill took out her Bible and the concordance that went with it. Using the two, she would read every “joy” entry in the Bible. If she focused on that, would it fill the hollow of her heart?
Morgan heard the strains of Rick’s guitar when he walked in, saw his brother perched on the hearth. Noelle was curled up on the couch, listening with a look so enraptured it hurt. Her expression changed to one of concern when she saw him. He hated that. Why couldn’t he burn all by himself?
Rick set the guitar in its case. “How’re you doing?”
“Sober.”
Rick nodded. “I could tell.”
Morgan sat down in the corner chair. He settled back, the immensity of his situation pressing him down, the unfathomed revelation still unreal to his mind even when he spoke it aloud. “I’ve got a fourteen year-old daughter.”
Maybe,
Bern’s doubts whispered, but the truth shouted louder.
Rick set the guitar aside. “I guess we misjudged Jill. It must have taken a lot for her to stand her ground.”
Morgan didn’t want to think about Jill and how it must have been for her. He didn’t want to remember how she was, as great in a tag football game as she was on the dance floor at the prom. Talented and intelligent, she hadn’t been obnoxious or overbearing, just eager to give her best all the time. She had challenged him as few people did, but it was her genuine joy of life he’d loved. He closed his eyes.
Maybe he’d been immature. Certainly he’d messed up. But they’d had something special, something worth fighting for. Why didn’t she fight for him the way she’d fought to have her baby? He silently groaned. No hangover had hurt like this. It took everything he had to hide it.
They sat with the night deepening around them. Noelle’s eyes grew heavy, then closed, her breath deepening to a rasping wheeze. “Is she all right?” he asked softly.
Rick studied her. “She’s worried. She cares about you.”
Now that she was married to Rick. It didn’t matter anyway. Noelle was irrelevant. So much of his life was irrelevant. He was irrelevant. Unless his marrow matched. He didn’t know how any of that worked. He rubbed his face, overwhelmed by his ignorance. How could he have a kid in the world and not know it? A daughter dying, and he spent his time on business plans to revive flailing corporations. “God, Rick.”
“Just God.”
Morgan peeled his hand from his face and shook his head. “It wasn’t a prayer.”
“It could be. Don’t you miss it, Morgan?”
“What?”
“Someone bigger to lean on.”
Morgan cocked his jaw, fighting the pain like a failing dike. “That’s not reality.”
“It used to be. I remember you training me to serve on the altar, the reverence you had for all things holy.”
Morgan quirked a smile. “The times we found the tiniest hand towel for old Father Quinn?”
“God enjoys a joke.”
Morgan’s voice rasped, “I’m not laughing.”
Rick didn’t push it. The lamp glow wrapped around them in silence.
Morgan swallowed. “I want to see her.”
“Jill?”
Heat surged through his body. “I meant Kelsey.”
“Is that possible?”
“I think I’ll have a little clout. If there’s a match.” He ignored Jill’s warning against it. The concerns of Kelsey’s so-called parents were not his. She didn’t have to know who he was, didn’t even have to see him. He just wanted to look at her, to see what he and Jill had created. To wipe out the images of what he thought had happened.
Tears stung the backs of his eyes. It was insane. He’d spent fifteen years proving himself. He had everything he wanted: a four-million dollar home with an ocean view, the fastest cars, the best wines. He could choose his projects, travel, entertain … anything he wished. No, he wasn’t financially independent yet, but he’d carved a niche and virtually assured himself continued success.
As Rick said, another man would have put this behind him without a thought. Sometimes he did. He sure hadn’t spent the last fifteen years feeling like this. He’d felt great, triumphant, satisfied. As long as he didn’t probe too deeply. He knew what his looks could get him, what his brains could do. He was packaged for success. And whatever Rick might say, he’d found it. So what that it sometimes felt hollow?
If he wanted to marry, he could. If he wanted kids …
I have a daughter
.
Rick said, “We should get some sleep.”
Morgan wasn’t tired. His mind was on overdrive. “I think I’ll have a drink.” What could it hurt?
“Go to bed, Morgan.” Rick stood up, lifted Noelle into his arms. It was a sight so gallant Morgan wanted to holler as his brother carried her up the stairs. It could have been him. At any stage in his life he could have found that happiness. If he had just let go and forgotten the love that had formed and transformed him, and the severing that could not be cauterized. Why hadn’t Jill told him? Could the truth have hurt her so much?
It was only steps to the kitchen. What did it matter, since the blood test was delayed? He took down a bottle and a glass, carried them back to the front room, and sat. The bottle was familiar and comfortable in his hand as he tipped it into the glass. He took the bourbon into his mouth, swilled it gently over his tongue, and swallowed. He wouldn’t sit long. Just finish his drink, then try to find sleep.
He was in the place where Jill had sat earlier. He should not have upset her. It had been reflex after what she’d done. Only she hadn’t done it. That thought re-impressed on his mind. She’d saved their child, if not their relationship. Maybe that was best. If they had stayed together, their love might have failed. He took another swallow. It was the amputation that kept the ghost pains alive.
K
elsey startled, staring into the darkness around her. It wasn’t pain or nausea that woke her, nor fear, but the sense that someone was close. “Mom?” she whispered, but nothing stirred in response. Sometimes Mom knelt beside her bed, praying silently over her while she slept; sometimes that penetrated her sleep. But that wasn’t it. Still, she had the strangest feeling she wasn’t alone.
“Dad?” Again nothing. Kelsey sank into the pillows. The feeling intensified, as though not only was someone watching her but was so near it raised the hairs on her skin. Yet there was no fear, and she closed her eyes, absorbing the presence in peace. Then, behind her eyelids, she saw a girl with a tiny baby in her arms. The baby was wrapped in blankets, and she couldn’t make out any more than the shape and the fine down of its hair, dark hair, but she knew it had fallen out and come in pale.
That was the first time I lost my hair,
she thought. But why had she jumped to that conclusion?
The girl was sitting in bed with a sheet over her legs, and she bent and kissed the baby’s head. Waves of sadness washed over Kelsey with that kiss, sadness so wrenching she almost opened her eyes. But she wanted to know more. A strand of pale blond hair slid from the girl’s shoulder, and Kelsey almost felt it brush her own cheek.
Tears started and washed the vision away. Kelsey opened her eyes. She had found nothing in the cluttered study any of the three times she’d looked, none of the documents she’d hoped would be there, but she knew. She knew.
Jill ran alone. It was something she’d promised Dan not to do. Young female joggers were an easy mark, especially in a treed place like the park near the townhouses. But she needed it.
The last few days had left her tied in knots, and today she was going to see Kelsey. She stretched her hurdler’s stride and let the drumming of her paces drive everything else away. The air was moist beneath the trees, the scent of humus rich and satisfying. Though she’d never been a farm girl, she appreciated the scent of good earth. It conjured a sense of well-being she needed at some visceral level.
Then Morgan’s face intruded, shattered the peace her mind had almost attained. “It’s out of my hands.” She said it aloud. “I’ve done my part.” The roll and jar of her paces quickened. Sweat drenched her back between the shoulder blades, her chest and neck. Her arms moved easily at her sides, her body synchronized in a movement as natural as breathing. She was made to run. That’s what her track coach had told her.
She’d worked hard at it. Morgan, too. He was a sprinter, not suited for the long haul but possessing Mercurial heels in the hundred-yard dash and quarter-mile. She had run the mile, gaining strength and confidence as she ran. But the hurdles made her shine.
She remembered the times Morgan had tried and ended up kicking the hurdles, not from inability but annoyance. He didn’t like things in his path. He’d rather clear away the hurdles than leap them.
She thought of Kelsey, so small and underdeveloped. How would she have been if disease had not struck her? Athletic? Strong? By fourteen, Jill was head cheerleader of the sophomore squad, already a trac? contender, and a mean tag football player. Kelsey looked ready to blow away.
A sob broke in her chest, and she lost her stride.
Oh, God, why?
Why did He allow Kelsey such misery? She thought of Shelly’s question. It haunted every Christian at some point in their lives. Why suffering, God? Why evil? Why pain and loss and death?
Sin. But had Kelsey sinned? What could she possibly have done to draw such vengeance upon herself? Unless it was Jill’s sin, and Morgan’s. Was Kelsey paying the price? Jill struck out faster. God wouldn’t do that. God was love. Jesus loved her unto death.
Then why, why, why? No amount of dopamine would drive that question away. She just had to face it and somehow find joy in the midst. Besides, it was time to shower and go tutor her students. She completed the loop and ran hard for her patio, slowing at the sight of Dan’s cruiser parked at the curb and his uniformed self leaning on her post.
She came to a panting stop, wiping her sweat and hair back with her forearm.
Dan pursed his lips. “I told you not to do that.”
Hands on her hips, back arched, she drew several long breaths. “I know.”
He pushed off from the post, turned off the staticky radio hooked to his belt. “I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t really have time.”
“It won’t take long. I just want to ask you something.” He cleared his throat, then looked off to the side.
Jill pressed her shoulders back to relieve the stress. “What, Dan?” He turned back abruptly. “Why don’t we get married?”
“What?” She searched his face. Had he actually said the “m” word? He was ready to make that commitment now, when everything was so messed up?
He took her hands. “I know I’ve been burned, and that made me cautious ….”
Jill shook her head. “Stop it, Dan. You’re on a rescue mission.”
He pulled her closer, tucked her hands against his chest. “I’m worried about you.”
“So we should get married?”
“At least you wouldn’t be running alone.”
She flattened her palms on his chest. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Jill, I’ve been thinking a lot about things.”
“So that’s what’s been burning.” She grinned, but it didn’t alleviate the seriousness in his eyes.
He hooked his arms over her shoulders, hands clasped behind her neck. “I wanted to know we were sexually compatible. I thought …” “I know what you thought.” His insecurities over losing his wife to another man were understandable. She pulled out of the loop of his arms. “You don’t have to explain. But I do have to shower and go teach.”
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
“I can’t. I have plans.” She started for her door. He would not be happy she’d left it unlocked to get back in that way, but she slid it open.
He frowned. “Do you listen to anything I say?”
She turned back with an apologetic glance. “I hate running with a key.” At his expression, Jill raised her hands. “I know. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“What plans?”
She stopped and sighed. “I just can’t, Dan. I’m too confused.”
He nodded. “Fine. I’ll run with you tomorrow.”
“Dan …”
“I won’t say a word.”
She forked her fingers into her hair. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”
He rested his hands at his hips, all cop, but she couldn’t give him the wrong idea.
“I have to go in. I’m going to be late.”
He stepped back. “So go.” But his gaze followed her as she stepped inside and slid the glass closed between them. Dan’s vigilance and misplaced concern she did not need. It was enough that she’d laid Morgan’s life to waste. She didn’t want any more casualties.
Morgan took the call and listened with no surprise to the person informing him that his blood was a single haplotype match with his daughter’s. They’d already sent him information explaining the genetics, so if that hadn’t been the case, Bern’s doubts of paternity would have stood. Now Morgan agreed that the next steps in the process should be done at the UCLA medical center nearest his home in Santa Barbara, the place that might actually perform the procedure. For sure he would have the second test, the one that had disqualified Jill, and if there was no cross-match problem, they would proceed with physical exam, mandatory counseling, and whatever else they wanted to do with him.
He had to go home. Rick’s ranch had served its purpose and more than he’d intended. He walked outside and found Todd in the stable.
Until he noticed him watching, Todd seemed to enjoy running the currycomb over the horse’s sides. Once he realized Morgan was there, he put on his sulky face and shortened the strokes.
Morgan leaned on the stall. “Hey.”
“It stinks in here.”
Morgan shrugged. “You get used to it. Good quarter horse manure.”
Todd swore for the first time in the three days since Morgan’s trip to Boulder without him. They’d patched it up with another movie and two trips for ice cream.
“Almost finished?” Morgan stroked the mare’s muzzle as Todd curried her hindquarters.