The Still of Night (55 page)
He shook his head, anger brewing. That was taking it too far. God could do as He liked with him, but to make Kelsey pay? “She’s not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”
Jill expelled her breath. “Do you think you can change what God has determined? I’ve spent today begging for her life. You don’t even talk to God.”
“I intend to do more than talk.”
“What, then?”
He caught her face. “Whatever it takes.” Maybe he was crazy, but he was not going to sit back and do nothing. “Don’t give up.”
Fresh tears washed into her eyes. “It’s just that … it’s like it was before. I wanted her so much. I prayed and prayed, but I was powerless. I had to give her up.” Jill started to shake. “But I didn’t let them take her. I couldn’t bear that. I gave her myself.”
Morgan lowered his hands from her face to her shoulders. He didn’t want to imagine Jill giving their child away. But for the first time he realized how terrible it must have been. That wound was paralyzing her now, trapping her into a fatalistic surrender.
But he would not go there. He had not believed Kelsey dead for fifteen years to lose her now, before he ever laid eyes on her. “Don’t let go of her this time, Jill.”
She swallowed but made no reply.
“Come with me.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
Once again he drew her into his arms. It would be better by far if Jill came along. She had some relationship, at least, and direct communication with both Cinda and Kelsey. More than that, he wanted her with him. He kissed the top of her head.
She pressed into him and sniffed. “I didn’t expect you to come here. I just had to tell you.”
He stroked her back between the shoulder blades. “You did the right thing.” What if she had called when it was too late? He threw that thought aside. There had to be something more he could do, something to make up for what his marrow was doing to Kelsey’s body, some way to stem the tide, reverse the course of nature … resist God’s will? Yes, if that was what it took.
“Pack your bag, Jill. Come with me.”
She stared up into his face. “Okay. But I need Shelly to keep Rascal and …” She shook her head. “I can’t think.”
“Need to cover yourself at work?”
She half laughed. “I missed the planning meetings today. I never even called.”
“Give me a number.”
“Umm … You could talk to Ed Fogarty, the principal.” She drew away, then said the number.
He took up the phone and punched it in. A school secretary answered. “Ed Fogarty please.” Then, “Mr. Fogarty, this is Morgan Spencer.”
“Morgan Spencer of
Fortune
magazine?” The man said it jokingly.
“Actually, yes.” He gave him a moment to let that sink in. “But I’m calling on a personal matter. For Jill Runyan.”
“Is this some kind of joke? Because I’ve had all I can take from Ji—”
“It’s no joke at all, Mr. Fogarty. Jill’s daughter, my daughter, has leukemia and we’re flying out immediately to do whatever we can to help her stay alive.”
There was silence on the other end, then, “What year did you graduate from Beauview High?”
“Class of ’88. You can check the article, and you’ve probably already deposited my check from the fund-raiser this past June.”
An even longer silence. “You said Jill Runyan’s daughter? Saint Jill?”
Morgan wished for ten minutes alone with the man. “I also said my daughter. I’m requesting a leave of absence for Jill. She’s been devoted to that school more years than you’ve been in Beauview.”
“How long a leave?”
“However long it takes. I understand you’re well staffed.”
“The truth is, I don’t really need Ms. Runyan.”
Morgan steamed. This little power trip of a man was the sort he’d love to take down. “That will be Jill’s decision.”
“Have her see me when she’s back. I’ll try to work her in.”
“She’ll have my lawyer’s number with her.”
“There’s no need for threats. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a school to run.”
Morgan hung up and turned to Jill, who looked as though someone had sucked the breath from her.
J
ill couldn’t breathe. Had Morgan just told everyone she knew about Kelsey? All those years of “summer mission trip” concealment, extreme protection of reputation, personal projection of virtue … How long before the whole school knew? Minutes, if she knew Ed Fogarty. Then the small-town ripples. Then Mom and Dad.
A chill seized her. Morgan had also identified himself. They would know he’d been there. She should have told them. But they had made that impossible. Slowly air seeped back into her lungs. Fine, then. Let everyone know. She was not ashamed of Kelsey. She was proud of her—desperately, achingly proud. She said, “I’ll go pack.”
Morgan picked Rascal up from rubbing his legs. “I’ll take Rascal to Shelly.”
In the bedroom, Jill tossed several outfits into her bag, hardly caring what she packed. Morgan was right. They had to fight. This time she could not surrender. It didn’t matter what Ed Fogarty or any of the teachers or anyone else thought. Nothing mattered but Kelsey. Maybe it was wrong, but this time she would trust Morgan.
She bit her lip on the smile that came when she recalled his tone informing Fogarty that she’d have his lawyer’s business card. Once again she was thankful for his clout, not that she would sue to keep her position—it would be intolerable to work under those conditions—but that Ed Fogarty would stew over the possibility and experience a little of what she’d gone through these last weeks.
She zipped the bag shut and rolled it to the front room. Should she call her parents? There was time still before word reached them. She could soften the blow and let them know what she was doing. She dragged herself to the phone, dialed, and got the machine. No way was she leaving it all on a message. She hung up. A call from New Haven might not be too late. Or from the airport if there was time.
Shelly came in with Morgan. “You’re lucky I was home.”
Jill realized that was true. All sense of time and schedule was shot. “Why were you?”
“I’ve cut down my hours since Brett Junior has made smelling the lollies less than enjoyable.” Shelly headed into the kitchen and collected Rascal’s food from the cabinet and his feeding dish. “Brett will have to handle the litter box. There’s some contamination that is
ixnay
for pregnant women.”
“I’ll get it,” Morgan said. He fetched the litter box from the bathroom in the hall, then took the rest from Shelly and went back out.
Shelly grabbed Jill into a hug. “Are you all right?”
Surprisingly all her tears must have been spent, or maybe it was just a habit not to show Shelly her pain. Jill nodded. “Did Morgan tell you?”
“Only that you were going to see Kelsey in New Haven.”
“Maybe.” Jill swallowed the pain. “She’s very, very sick.”
Shelly studied her face. “So sick she might …”
Jill closed her eyes. “I’m praying for a miracle.”
“I will, too.”
Jill opened her eyes.
“Look, if I can get pregnant when every law of nature says I can’t, then maybe there’s something bigger than nature.”
She squeezed Shelly hard. “Thank you.”
When Morgan came back they loaded her bag into the rental car and left Beauview. As they drove once again to Des Moines, Jill broke the silence briefly. “What article did you tell Fogarty to check?” The details of that conversation were still spinning in her head.
“
Fortune
magazine.”
“You’re in it?”
“On the cover. They called me the success guru, a nickname Noelle coined.”
She smiled. “That will frost him. He’s of the socialist mind-set, that no one should have more success than the next guy.”
“I’d like to see him pay for his computers.”
Jill sat back in her seat.
Do not gloat
. It took only a moment before any personal victory she felt was overshadowed by the horrific struggle ahead—and the reality of what they were doing. Thoughts of seeing Kelsey excited and terrified her. She knew better than to expect the imp who had guessed her identity and stretched the rules to contact Morgan. She might not be able to speak to them, if they got in to see her at all. And Jill was not sure they would, even if Morgan was the “success guru.”
As it turned out, they had no time to speak of in the airport. Morgan had chartered a jet and the pilot was waiting. Jill had never flown in a private plane, much less a Learjet. Morgan seemed perfectly at ease. She settled into the seat beside him, and he took her hand as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“You okay?”
She shook her head. “I’m terrified.”
“Of the plane?”
She shook it again. She couldn’t speak the fear for Kelsey that rose up and filled her. But she didn’t have to.
Morgan took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “We’re doing what we can.”
She realized that was the key to his success: his persona, probably his nature. Morgan did what he could. She studied him now, seeing him for the first time since his second surprise arrival at her door. “You look tired.”
“I had Todd all week.”
“At your place?”
He nodded.
“I bet he loved it.”
Morgan slid her a glance. “It was like taming a tornado.”
She smiled. “Tell me about him.” She listened for the next half hour while Morgan regaled their misadventures, starting from their time at Rick’s ranch. She glanced over, surprised when he described Todd’s reaction to his drinking. She would have thought Morgan might keep that to himself.
“Don’t look so smug. Todd dragged his life experience into our interaction. But …” His pause was long enough for her to anticipate anything. “It did make me step back and look. That, coupled with my stomach’s rejection of anything harder than apple cider, has pretty much clinched it.”
“You are thin, Morgan. Are you still sick?”
“Like I said, anything nonalcoholic, even Consuela’s tear-jerking green chili, sits like milk in my tummy.”
Should she tell him? No, not when he was going to see Kelsey for the first time. A fresh stab to her chest. “Morgan, do you think they’ll let us in?”
His swift follow of her switch in topic showed the subject was not far from his own thoughts. He squeezed her hand. “We’ll get in.”
Why hadn’t she let him handle things from the start? Let him take care of her as he’d promised, her and Kelsey. But that wasn’t the same. What he’d become at thirty-three was colored in part by the same decisions that made her who she was now—the decision that made them outsiders to Kelsey’s struggle. Morgan was determined to get in, but she had to consider Roger and Cinda and Kelsey.
They sat in silence, hands still clasped, Morgan’s slow, occasional stroke of his thumb the only communication. She moistened her lips. “I guess Mom and Dad will hear.”
He glanced over. “From Shelly?”
A smile touched the corners of her mouth. He really had forgotten small-town dynamics. He had no idea what he’d done to her life. “From you.”
“Me.” He frowned.
“You told Ed Fogarty about Kelsey and identified yourself. That was as good as saying to the whole town this is why Jill Runyan disappeared fifteen years ago.”
The realization penetrated his expression. “Oh.” He swallowed. “I guess I should apologize.”
“Are you sorry?”
“No.” Both his face and tone had an edge.
“I didn’t think so.”
The lines of his face sharpened and his grip tightened. “Actually I’m glad.”
“You don’t have to live with it.”
“Wanna bet?”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. After a while he rested his cheek against it and gave a soft laugh. “How many hours do you think you have?”
Jill nestled her other hand over his bicep. “I’d guess by dinnertime it’ll make juicy table talk.”
“Except for your folks.”
She shuddered, picturing the aching silence that would shroud their table.
He snorted. “You’d think we sold our souls.”
She pressed her face against his arm. “That’s pretty much how they see it.” Yet hadn’t he? Turning his back on God, living in rebellion … Was that any worse than the lie she had lived?
He stroked her head. “You don’t have to go back. You can stay with me.”
She didn’t try to pretend that wasn’t what she wanted. But it was impossible. Especially now when everything was falling apart. “That would be running away all over again.” She almost felt the pain in his sigh and looked into his face. “I don’t know how to make it right, Morgan.”
He nodded, swallowing, then drew a slow breath. “Then right now we focus on Kelsey.”
Appreciation flooded her. Morgan might see himself as wicked and doomed. But did he know how many times he gave precious solace and hope? She should let go of his arm, remove her head from his shoulder. But these moments were numbered, and she would not waste one.
Jill’s hand in his was moist as they navigated through the immense hospital. He understood her anxiety. His stomach felt like a boa constrictor had taken up residence, and he was far less certain of his strategy than he let on. He had wanted to communicate directly with the Bensons as Bern suggested. But timing made that impossible. He had no intention of suing for custody or making trouble for any of them. But if he could make the hospital recognize his right to see his own daughter … He had finessed situations before, yet none like this. But if he imagined it as the same sort of challenge he faced in business … Other people’s money was a far cry from his own flesh and blood, but Jill was counting on him.
They reached the oncology center and the secured section where they would have to be buzzed through by permission. He went up to the desk and said, “We’re family to see Kelsey Benson.”
The nurse looked at him shrewdly. “I’m sorry. Kelsey’s in ICU. It’s immediate family only.”
“I am immediate family.” He took out the letter from Bern that announced as unambiguously as Bern had been able that paternity was in question due to false termination of parental rights, failure to serve reasonable notice, and lack of due process. That could bring into question Roger Benson’s right to make medical decisions on Kelsey’s behalf. Morgan knew no court in the world would interfere with that relationship in this situation, and it felt wretched to even propose it. But if it was the only way they would let him be involved …