by J. J. Keller
She looked to the right and to the left searching for an escape. Cheering crowds blurred her vision. The clash and hurtle of the reenacted joust had passed and now the white knight stood in front of her. His horse pawed the ground beside him. The cheek plate of his closed-helmet lifted, his brown eyes searching hers.
“I have won the tournament and present to you a token of my esteem.” He held a large silver ring the size of her palm. The plastic diamond shimmered under the bright lights.
Hoots and whistles were shouted. She glanced at Adam. He smiled and nodded toward the guy’s extended hand. She went down the stairs and stood at the railing, curtseyed as best as possible inside a booth with pants on, and took the ring. “Thank you, sir. I accept your gift.”
The handsome, silver-clad guardian climbed onto the saddle and waved to the audience. Her green scarf, still attached to his arm, fluttered in the breeze. The other performers made a final round, receiving a standing ovation and ending the show. Shania stuffed the oversized ring into her bag. Cameras flashed from every direction. She needed to leave. The urgency was so extreme her legs became jelly and her arms shook.
She helped Justin put on his coat and zipped it. As she snuggled into her light-weight jacket, Adam picked up her son and then took her sweaty palm into his. They missed the mad rush to the exits due to their box seats. Her pulse continued its erratic rate. Why did snippets of her past keep invading her thoughts?
The ride to her place was quiet. What could she say? Adam’s thoughtfulness and generosity overwhelmed her. Instead of overanalyzing, she should appreciate his behaviors as they were intended…acts of kindness. The night did indeed have a magical quality, as the orator claimed. She closed her eyes. The evening would have been perfect had Morgan been there.
Adam carried Justin to her apartment, his tiny red boots flopping up and down. Shania slipped the ball and large ring from her purse, found the keys and replaced the items. She opened the door and turned to Adam.
“Let me carry him inside,” Adam whispered. She led the way to the bedroom. He laid Justin on top of his youth bed and glanced around. Embarrassed about their simple, humble living conditions, Shania made quick work of removing Justin’s boots and outer garments, and covered him with his coveted Bob the Builder blanket.
Together Adam and Shania walked out of the bedroom. Was this the process of a married couple tucking their child in at night? She didn’t have a frame of reference as she couldn’t recall her parents wishing her good night. For the past year, her dreams were always of Morgan, tucking Justin in bed and then her later.
“Thank you, Adam, for such a lovely night and especially for the birthday gift,” she whispered.
“It was my pleasure, Shania.” He placed his hand on the side of her face. “That’s what friends do for each other, in addition to becoming close, like family.”
Adam’s mouth lightly brushed hers. His eyes closed when he kissed her. Soft lips pressed against hers with a feathery touch, making him all the more charming and the smooch all the more harmless.
Not finding opposition he leaned closer. His tongue touched her lips. Friends didn’t French. She broke the lip lock.
“Good night,” she said and strolled to the door. Should she give the phone back and make it very clear she did not desire a romantic relationship or continue as-is, wading through his not-so-obvious manipulations? Or should she remove the restraints from her emotions and accept another man in her life, a guy she could possibly come to like?
Chapter 9
The Village, a block from campus, held modern commerce as well as a traditional barbershop and antique store. Cell-Station stood out in its angular contemporary glory among rustic buildings and hundred-year-old trees. Shania walked out of the thriving wireless business and situated into a quiet shaded spot along the sidewalk, braced against the limestone wall. She pushed a button. The entry was deleted instead of saved. Damn, would she ever figure out how to use the phone?
Her bag bumped into the side of the stone as she settled more comfortably against the rock face. She entered three numbers into the memory bank: Morgan, daycare and Megan. Adam had already entered his contact information. He’d also paid the first year of service in advance. The present was a nice gesture, as long as it was a token of friendship. Logically, she needed a phone. She always wanted to be in contact with Justin. Besides, she did enjoy having a male friend and Adam fit the role perfectly.
Shania feared being hurt by another man. Like a thief, Beck had stolen all of her ability to trust in love. Her essence had been stifled because of his duplicity, but not purloined. Her love for Morgan catapulted her into a new dimension. No rebounding would be in her future. Her world revolved around Justin and her artwork, and she’d be contented with those.
* * * *
The doorbell had to have been created by Whitechapel Bell Foundry, the makers of Big Ben. The vibrations literally shook the Miller’s steel entrance. Morgan had been an Indiana Scholar which had awarded him a trip to London, so he was familiar with that particular chime. He straightened the collar of his black polo and brushed the lint from his suede jacket. His mantra, “Shania loves you”, continued to replay in his mind. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long.
An older woman wearing a white starched hat and black dress answered the door.
“I need to see Mr. or Mrs. Miller please.”
“Please come in.” She lowered her gaze to the tile floor.
“Who is it, Mary?” Mrs. Miller’s voice didn’t resemble her daughter’s, although her face and form could be confused for an older version of Shania. Shania would age beautifully. If Morgan could convince Shania to marry him, he vowed to walk through the stages of life with her at his side.
Morgan stepped across the threshold and held out his hand. “I’m Morgan Hardwick.”
The bracelets at her wrist jangled, creating a ting-ting melody as Mrs. Miller held out her palm and shook his hand.
The door shut quietly behind him.
“Thank you, Mary.”
Mary, quietly dismissed, hurried away.
“I know who you are, Mr. Hardwick. Your father took care of my daughter’s horse when it had a fungus on its foot. Is Dr. Hardwick still a practicing veterinarian?”
“Retirement is pending. Thank you for asking.” His mouth was suddenly dry. A quick swipe of tongue over his lips didn’t help.
“Come into the parlor. May I take your coat?” She hadn’t smiled. If he were to attach one word to Shania’s mother it would be stoic.
“No, thank you. I’ll just take a moment of your time.” He took a deep breath, inhaling an apple scent. Her perfume or the aroma coming from the potpourri in the glass dish on the half-round oak table wafted, scenting the foyer.
“Tell me why you stopped by our home this bright November day.” She pointed to the first doorway on the left of the entrance hall. Pearl carpet. He walked inside the room. Except for the silver accent pieces, the entire space looked like a snow fort as it was decorated in all-white furniture. A flood of sympathy enveloped him, thinking of a tiny Shania properly sitting on the sofa instead of lounging among friends talking crap about boys.
He sat on the edge of the couch. Mrs. Miller sashayed to a side bar and lifted the shiny cap from an ice bucket. “Drink, Mr. Hardwick?”
He grit his teeth. It was ten in the morning. Was she a lush? “No, thank you. I have a morning appointment, so I’ll get right to my reason for being here.”
She dropped the lid in place. Without preparing a beverage, she glided to the settee, and sat down. “Please do.”
He had to make his request in clear logical terms, without emotion. “Shania has left Cyan and I need to find her. Do you know where she’s gone?” Sap!
Her lips tightened and her eyes narrowed. “No. I haven’t talked to Shania since she got pregnant, lied to us and the Longviews. That was four years ago, I believe.”
“She never lied to you.” Morgan’s stomach turned and twisted. The pou
nding in his chest escalated as if he’d climbed several flights of stairs. He would not allow the Millers to believe the fabrications provided by the Longviews. They’d forgotten how to tell the truth.
“I beg to differ, but I’m not going to go into it with you. Did you see today’s paper?” She smiled as if she’d taken a bite from a bitter apple.
“Not yet.” He hated how his voice sounded scratchy. Despite her intimidating manner, he wanted to make a good impression. He planned to marry her daughter.
Mrs. Miller went into the foyer. Her heels clacked on the wood floors. Then the sound of a drawer opening and shutting. It clicked in place and her heels tapped as she returned. She handed him a rectangular announcement cut from newsprint.
“Beck Longview and Taffy Canterbury are announcing their upcoming wedding on December twentieth.” She pointed to a paragraph in the middle. “They were officially engaged in July 2004, but the groom left to serve his country.”
Mrs. Miller slithered to the sofa, sat and crossed her legs. Morgan finished reading the article detailing the time, date and place for Beck’s wedding. He slowly removed his wallet. The photo he sought was the first thing visible whenever he opened his billfold.
He slid the picture of Justin beside Beck’s, placing it on top of Taffy’s sharp-boned face and red-blond hair, and carried the items to Mrs. Miller. “Shania never lied. Beck did love her in his own way. She waited three years for him, staying loyal to him the entire time.” He handed her the two images. “As you can see Beck fathered your grandson, Justin, as they look so much alike…but Mrs. Miller…”
She clutched the newsprint and photo in her hand and lifted her head. Her hard shell, maybe due to the truth, had broken, aging her. Water hovered at the corners of her eyes.
“I am his father. If you should hear anything, I’d like to be advised. You know how to reach me.” He held out his hand to collect the photograph.
“May I keep the photo of my grandson?” Her voice cracked.
Morgan hesitated. He didn’t want to let go of the picture. He might need it to locate Justin and Shania. Mrs. Miller’s face paled and tears tracked down her red cheeks, smearing her make-up.
“Yes,” he whispered, slid his wallet into his pocket, pivoted, and walked to the door.
“Mr. Hardwick.” Her tear-choked voice ripped through the room.
He stopped and glanced at her.
“We are Shania’s base address at Briarwood University. A few days ago we got an overdue notice for tuition. You might be able to locate her on campus.” She crumbled the newspaper announcement and held the photo of Justin to her chest.
Morgan would tie up loose ends and go to Briarwood today.
* * * *
Chaotic Thursday arrived before she could turn around. Tired from too little sleep, she glanced at the clock in the square as she rushed to get Justin home from daycare. Because of his tight footwear, Justin didn’t complain about being carried or unable to explore on their way home as was the norm. Guilt pierced her gut. On Saturday she’d have a mature CD and straightaway she’d buy him a pair of shoes.
Shania unlocked the door to their apartment, crossed over the threshold leaving the entrance open as she removed Justin’s too small athletic shoes, and lowered him to the floor.
“Shania.” Her dream lover’s voice caressed her skin.
Breath caught in her throat, she pivoted. “Morgan,” she whispered as air finally flowed from her lungs.
* * * *
Shania dropped her bags, and to Morgan’s surprise hurled herself into his arms. She tucked her face into the nook of his neck and inhaled. He closed his eyes and held onto her, not wanting to ever let go.
“I’ve missed…you.” His voice faltered.
“Daddy,” Justin shouted and ran forward, arms outstretched.
Morgan lowered Shania, keeping an arm around her waist. Eyes watering, he grabbed Justin, snuggling him close to his chest. He hadn’t fully comprehended how much the two of them meant to him. Never again would he take their love, their presence for granted.
A single tear leaked down Shania’s face. She turned away. “Let’s go inside.”
He released her waist. She led the way into the living room. Justin clung to Morgan as he shut the door, cocooning them.
“Sit, please. Would you like a drink?” She pointed to a sofa, then used her forearm to swipe at her face.
Unsure what to do or say, he shifted Justin to the other hip. She wouldn’t appreciate him mentioning the tears.
“No, thank you,” Morgan responded. With Justin glued to his side, Morgan walked around the apartment, looking at how she’d decorated. An easel had been set in the corner. The work in progress was covered with a bed sheet. Everything was in its place, neat and tidy. Some of her habits hadn’t changed in the last two months.
“I go to school now,” Justin said.
“You do?” Morgan touched the side of the face he so loved.
“I have a friend named Sam.” Justin clung to Morgan’s jacket.
Morgan smoothed his hair, reassuring him he’d heard him.
“Why are you here?” Shania asked. Her eyes glassy, she looked around, anywhere but at him. Had he caused those snuffles? Were they tears of joy or remorse?
“I got a call on Friday, although you didn’t leave a message. I’ve dialed your number every day. No answer.” He glanced into the bedroom to see two beds, one small, almost a cot. His knotted stomach muscles twisted with anxiousness, wanting to share her pallet, fearing she didn’t call because there was someone new. If there was another man in her life, this time Morgan would fight for her.
He hadn’t wanted to contact her until his debts were eliminated and he could begin a permanent relationship. Part of his reluctance to seek her was his anger. She’d waited until minutes before he was to commit to another before approaching him. Why couldn’t she have shared her feelings at any time during the past three years?
He’d subdued the irritation of her inappropriate timing and the remorse because he’d almost achieved his goal.
All he had to do was confirm their shared love. Hopefully it wasn’t too late for them. His body chilled with fear―he’d forgiven her, but had he waited too long?
“Yes, I did call. My phone broke.” She sat down on the stool in front of a rocker--the chair they had used to soothe Justin asleep for the first couple of years of his life. She stared, evaluating him like a psychology experiment, making him question his delayed actions again.
Morgan walked to the sofa and sat down, propping Justin on his lap. “Did you get it fixed?”
“No, Adam gave me a new one.” She hadn’t moved her gaze from his face. Her scrutiny unnerved him and excited him at the same time. Had he glimpsed a smidgen of longing, of love, in her cat eyes?
Mouth dry, he licked his lips. “Who’s Adam?”
“A friend.” She clasped her hands, her knuckles showed white. “How’s Patty?”
“She’s the same.” He tugged off Justin’s coat. The dark blue sweatshirt had lifted. Morgan pulled Justin’s sweatshirt down, tickling the soft tummy skin as he did. Justin giggled but didn’t push Morgan’s hand away as he would have done in the past.
“How was the honeymoon? Did you like Aruba?” She frowned, as if she regretted the question. In the next instant she smiled. Her eyes held sadness and possibly anger, but at herself or him he didn’t know.
“There wasn’t a honeymoon, Shania. We didn’t get married.” He lowered Justin to the floor. Hot and irritated, Morgan stood and removed his wool overcoat, keeping his gaze on her, needing to see her reaction to the announcement. “I planned to explain everything after I settled accounts with Patty, but you left and--”
The doorbell rang. Shania glanced at the black round wall clock and then to the door. Had he lost the opportunity to explain?
“Megan, the babysitter,” she said in explanation and stood.
Justin sat on the floor running a truck over a bump on the stained b
rown carpet.
Cramps ripped through Morgan’s gut. He had waited too long to contact her. He’d lost her. “You have a date?”
“No, I have night class. Megan from down the hall comes every Thursday to stay with Justin.” The doorbell sounded again, longer and shrill.
“Could I stay with him tonight? He’s changed so much.” He propped his hands on his hips. His heart rate climbed to a fearful speed, as if he ascended the side of a mountain.
“It’s been more than two months. Children change. People change.” Her tone had a bite of acid. Quick change, although he was glad she outwardly showed irritation. Hate and love were a fine thread away from each other. Anger wasn’t part of her personality or her normal reactions, so this emotion must have been stewing for a few weeks. Deep down, he knew she still cared for him. He hadn’t lost.
“Shania, please allow me to explain.” He stood. Morgan’s change in tone from happy to anxious must have alerted Justin because he crawled on all fours and clasped Morgan’s leg.
She glanced at Justin. The child held his arms tight to Morgan’s thigh and pressed his cheek against the cold jeans. She shifted her gaze to meet his. Justin wanted to stay with him. Would she let him? His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her decision. He wished they could always remain together, a family of three.
“Okay.” She ran to the door. A jerk of the brass knob flung her backward as the entrance flew open.
“I was worried. You always answer on the first ring. What’s going on?” A black-haired teen, decked in a bright pink loose top and pants, stood with legs braced and hands resting on her non-existent hips. Her dark-eyed glance met his. Various facial piercings shimmered in the light. “Hi, I’m Megan.”
“I’m Morgan Hardwick.” He bent, released Justin’s arms from their tight grip and picked him up.
“My daddy,” Justin added.
Megan stared at the trio, analyzing Morgan as if he were a puzzle. “For real?”
