The Still of Night (39 page)
“And then it migrates to her marrow and engrafts,” Jill finished.
“That’s the idea.” Hopefully. “It’ll be weeks before we know for sure.”
“I spent all night in prayer. I know the Lord’s working.”
He gave her a faint smile. “Good.”
“And I prayed for your recovery.”
His smile stretched again. “I feel better already.”
“Don’t mock me.” She pushed his knee, then sucked a breath when she realized it hurt. “I’m sorry.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I need some coffee.”
“Do you want me to pull off?” Jill searched the heavily trafficked highway.
Morgan checked his watch, then closed his eyes. “No. Just get us home.”
When they reached the house, a stocky Mexican met them in the garage and opened Morgan’s door. Juan, Jill guessed, and it was confirmed by a brief introduction. Morgan spoke to him in Spanish. Juan nodded, then went inside. Morgan climbed slowly out of the car and leaned on the door. “My legs don’t want to work.”
“Let me help you.” She hurried around the side and curled his arm over her shoulders. Holding his waist and careful not to bump the bandaged area just beneath, she helped him inside and eased him into a chair in his game room, facing the ocean. “Is that okay?”
Morgan nodded.
Juan stumped back in with a cup of coffee and a glass of juice on a tray. His hair hung into his eyes in the front, though the back was cut fairly short. His features were chunky, without Consuela’s charm, but she could see a resemblance. He set the tray on the table between Morgan’s chair and the next.
“¿Está bien?”
“Sí.” Morgan nodded.
Juan eyed her briefly, then headed up the stairs.
Jill glanced toward the open office door. “Is Denise …”
“I told her I wouldn’t be worth much today.”
Jill knelt beside him, resting her hands on his knee, facing him at eye level. “Not worth much? You just gave our daughter a new chance at life, gave her hope, something to fight back with.”
“I wasn’t speaking figuratively.”
“Well, Morgan, I don’t know your net worth, but from what I’ve seen, I’d say it’s substantial.”
He chuckled. “Or financially.”
“And you may not be listening these days, but the Lord chose
you,
not me or anyone else.”
He glanced away. “Or spiritually.” He shifted position and winced. “Only physically.”
She sat back on her heels. “Well, that’s why I’m here.”
He smiled and covered her hands with his palm. “So it’s not a hundred percent Kelsey?”
“Not completely one hundred percent.”
“But my stock’s trading at a loss.”
She smiled. “Drink your coffee, Morgan. You look peaked.”
He reached for his cup. “How come you look so fresh?”
“I had juice and a muffin from the vending machine. Are you up to eating?”
“I have something coming.” Morgan motioned to the chair beside his. “Stop kneeling at my feet.”
“Oh, come now. You tried for years to bring me to my knees.”
His low laugh caressed her. It was her chance now to bless him as he had blessed so many, though he wouldn’t see it that way or choose that word to describe it. She took the seat he offered. It was a soft, suedelike leather, wonderful to sink into, to stroke with her fingers. The sort that would not handle spills or wear but was certainly a sensuous sitting experience. Morgan liked comfort. He could afford it, and now she thoroughly believed he deserved it.
He softly slurped his coffee. “I will soon be human.”
Jill drank her cranberry juice. “I see you’ve remembered my preference.”
“And the adverse effects of caffeine on your system. Didn’t want you bouncing off the walls.”
She drained her glass. “You didn’t want me running circles around you in your depleted physical state.”
“Jill, you run circles around me at the best of times.”
“Not true.” She laughed. “Though I did notice you’ve lost your edge. You ought to keep me on as your personal trainer.”
He fixed her with his Spencer blues. “Name your salary.”
Her heart stilled. She’d been speaking lightly, joking. But there was nothing light in his expression. Of course, he brought people into his circle all the time and kept them there. And here was Consuela to prove it, with Juan behind her.
Consuela held two filled plates while Juan set up a pair of teak-wood TV trays. The aroma of thin sizzling flank steak and roasted scallions filled the room and triggered instant starvation, the vending machine muffin notwithstanding. The accompanying ripe red strawberries looked and smelled as though they were fresh from the ground. Jill’s mouth watered. She could get used to this. Her heart made a slow thump.
As Juan and Consuela went back up the stairs, Jill folded her hands. “This feast deserves a prayer.”
Morgan waved a hand graciously. “Pray away.”
“Father, thank you for your goodness. And for Morgan’s. Bless this food for our use, and speed his recovery. And especially bless and heal Kelsey. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
Morgan sliced a bite from the thin panfried flank steak. “You could also fill the position of spiritual director. Whip my soul into shape between workouts.” He savored the bite a moment before chewing.
Jill’s own soul stirred. She had no stellar track record with her witness, but she’d been bolder with Morgan than anyone else, and far more constant in prayer since he arrived at her door. But even if he was serious, there were too many obstacles. “The problem is I have a life.”
“You’d have one here.”
She would not even allow that picture to form. “My kids need me.”
“I need you.” He said it with perfect candor, but not the poverty she’d witnessed in his unguarded moments.
“Oh, I don’t know. It seems your needs are pretty well met with the staff you have already. Denise and Consuela and Juan.”
“You don’t see Consuela urging that last mile from me, do you?”
Jill laughed, then tasted her meat and seriously reconsidered her argument.
“Another of Consuela’s specialties.” Morgan was playing all his cards.
“No fair hitting me at the point of hunger.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
And which one was this? “You said yourself you’re hardly home.”
“You’d travel with me.”
Her heart tumbled over a major hurdle. “In case you had spiritual questions in the still of night?” No, that didn’t sound right.
His gaze intensified. “Isn’t that mainly when they strike? The dark night of the soul and all that?”
Her throat tightened. “I guess yes. It seems that way. The mind is too busy otherwise.”
“Then you ought to be at hand if you expect to make any headway at all.”
“Morgan.”
“I’m serious. We can fly Rascal out. You already said your job was all but shot.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t fight for it.” She should not have started this.
“You want something to fight for?”
She laid down her fork before he could see her hand start to shake. “Please don’t.”
He dropped his chin for a long silent moment, then went back to his meal. She was supposed to be cheering him up, giving comfort, not distress. If only reality didn’t keep getting in the way.
She ate the steak with the lightly scorched scallions and the straw berries that were as juicy and sweet as she’d expected. Morgan ate his with a refinement that surprised her. But, then, she was used to sitting across from Dan. She pushed her plate aside and said, “I think I’ll take a run on the beach later.”
“You won’t get far on our strip. The cliffs take over. But you can drive south to the real beach and marina. About four miles.”
“I’ll just use the street then. How do I get through the gate?”
He pulled a sideways smile. “Now there’s an interesting thought.”
She raised her chin. “I will not be held against my will. Rascal cannot ransom me.”
“Then I’ll have to keep you.”
How had he brought it right back around again? “Do you want to get some air? I can help you outside.” She indicated the bench outside his French doors. It would not be comfortable, but a change would do them both good.
She moved the TV trays out of the way and helped him up. He was so stiff it took him a few moments to get going, but he bore his weight better this time. Probably nourishment and maybe the pain meds. He stood awhile without settling onto the bench, just looking out across the narrow portion of his yard between the French doors and the cliff overlooking the sea.
He said, “Smells good out here. There’s nothing like the sea air.”
“I like the smell of the earth and trees and rain in the fields.”
Morgan glanced down at her. “The sound of the surf, the cry of the gulls.”
“Cricket song, crows in the morning.”
“Fresh exotic flowers every day.”
“Corn snapped from the stalk, boiled and buttered.”
He rested his arm across her shoulders. “You ought to see what Consuela does with corn.”
“No fair.”
He laughed. “Help me sit.”
She eased him onto the bench, and he tugged her down beside him, then curled his arm once again over her shoulders. She refused to give in to the embrace. Comfort and assistance. That was her job, her reason for coming, her part in Kelsey’s rescue. That and prayer. She prayed now.
Lord, guide and sustain me. This is treacherous water. I don’t want to drown
.
“You’re as stiff as this bench.”
“I’m sorry.” She softened her position.
“It feels so good to hold you.”
Way too good being held. “It’ll only make it worse.”
The Adam’s apple moved in his throat. “So you’re convinced there’s no chance.” His voice was once again impoverished.
She dropped her gaze to her hands as her heart lumbered. “We blew that long ago, Morgan.”
“And there’s no redemption.”
How did he mean that? “There’s forgiveness.”
He formed a wry smile. “What good is it?”
“It puts you right with God.”
He stared across the yard, lips pursed. “Would you get Juan for me?”
She glanced up startled, then stood. “Sure.”
She found Juan sitting on the front step, a weeding claw beside him but not much evidence it had been used. “Excuse me.”
Juan slowly raised his head. “¿Sí?”
Oh, great. She knew no Spanish. “Morgan wants you.” She indicated with her head. He should at least recognize the name of his employer.
He rubbed his palms on his pants, then pushed up by his knees to stand. She would not depend on him in a fire. She started walking, hoping he would follow, and he did. They went around the house to Morgan on the bench. Morgan spoke in Spanish, and Juan went inside.
“I didn’t realize you were fluent.”
“Far from it. Just enough to communicate the important things.”
Juan reappeared with a squat glass of ice and some strong liquor by the smell of it. Morgan took the glass and sipped, said something else to Juan, and he returned with the bottle. When Juan left, Morgan raised his glass. “This puts me right with God.”
She frowned. “How?”
“Removes all pretense.” He drank.
She had no idea what to do with that. “You shouldn’t have that so soon.”
He held the glass up and studied the liquid. “Trust me, it’s never too soon.”
Frustrated, she pressed her hands to her hips. “I guess I’ll run now.”
“There’s a panel on the inside right post of the gate. Press the button; it’ll let you out.”
He was obviously no longer interested in keeping her in. Well, she’d made that happen. “Do you need anything before I go?”
“I have everything I need.”
A chasm opened between them, a chasm she’d dug and he widened. She went inside and changed into her shorts and sport tank. She tied on her Nikes and stretched her muscles, then went out through the front door, past Juan still enjoying the view, and jogged to the gate.
The button opened it just as Morgan said, and she took off running up the small private drive to the coastal road.
Milk had spilled across the sky and muted the earlier sunshine, but the air was warm and bees hummed in the verdant growth beside the road. Sweet calla lilies bowed and nodded. Palm tree shadows were stubby one-legged men with bushy beards standing among the sprays of leaf shadows across the road. A gull winged toward the water that was no longer in view from the road.
Somewhere Morgan’s bone marrow was being flown to Kelsey, treated and prepared to work its miracle. And behind her, God’s instrument was removing all pretense.
This was it. Kelsey watched the marrow flowing through the tube into her catheter. There was no pain, not even the nausea they had said she might experience. The marrow was a brilliant, beautiful red, and for some reason that encouraged her. Not that she was discouraged, she wouldn’t say that. Only … resigned? No, that seemed like quitting. It wasn’t a quitting feeling.
She hadn’t figured out the new emotion yet, but it had started when Rachel died. She hadn’t come out of ICU, only shut down one part at a time until there weren’t enough parts working to keep going. The nurse had told her Rachel died. She hadn’t seen Josh since. But it seemed now like death wasn’t the giant abyss she had pictured. It was just a thin crack that took very little effort to cross.
The marrow bag was emptying, and she wondered if Morgan was in pain. The bone puncture was always painful, and he’d have had lots of them to get out so much marrow. She was glad she’d called. His voice was nice, and she could tell he did want to help.
Of course, there was the other miracle. He’d paid for it all. Mom had told her this morning. She wished she had known last night. She would have thanked him for that, as well. All the prayers people had prayed for financial help, and then Morgan just did it. Kelsey smiled. He must know Jesus.
She closed her eyes and pictured the face that was always there now behind her eyelids. Long hair, bearded but smiling. Brown eyes, warmer even than Dad’s, with no vacant, superspiritual look. Just an intense love.
Hi, Jesus. I’m glad you’re here
.
His smile deepened.
Always. To the end of time
.
M
organ’s chin was on his chest, his mouth slightly ajar, and one side of his lower lip shiny with saliva. He looked achingly vulnerable as Jill approached, fresh from her shower after the run. He still held the glass on his thigh, but the ice had melted, and the liquid in the bottle was not that much lower than it had been.