Haven Creek

by Rochelle Alers

Nate hesitated. He’d dialed her office number when he’d wanted her cell. “Hello, Sam. This is Nate. Is Morgan available?”

  “I’m sorry, Nate, but she’s not here. She’s meeting with Bobby. He’s the project manager. Do you have the number to her cell?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I think you should call her.”

  There was something in Samara’s voice that made the hair stand up on the back of Nate’s neck. “I will. Thank you, Sam.” Scrolling through the directory for Morgan’s numbers, he tapped in the right one this time.

  “Hi, baby,” came her throaty greeting.

  “Hi back to you,” he said, grinning.

  “I couldn’t believe it when your name came up on the display. I’d thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “Never happen, baby. I didn’t call you because I know you’re busy with all your projects.” She laughed, the sound sending shivers up Nate’s back.

  “You know I’ll always make time to talk to you.”

  “Is everything all right, Mo?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I heard something in Sam’s voice when she said you were meeting with the project manager.”

  “You spoke to Sam?” Morgan asked.

  “I called your office by accident.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  A frown appeared between Nate’s eyes as he squinted through the windshield. “Nothing. What’s going on between you the project manager?”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. Talk to me, Morgan.”

  Nate listened as she told him about the wallpaper issue. “There’s a faster method that uses fabric softener and water to loosen the old adhesive.”

  “I told him that, but he says he prefers using metal putty knives.”

  “That’s old school, Morgan.”

  “Well, it’s apparent that Bobby is old school. What he’s going to be is fired if he doesn’t finish all the stripping by the end of the month.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” Nate asked.

  “No. I’d wanted to talk to you about different stripping methods, but I researched it on my own.”

  “I’m coming home as soon as I can reserve a flight. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to show me plans for the house before you take me on a walk-through. I’ve worked on enough old buildings and houses to judge how long it should take to restore something.”

  “We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

  He heard a soft beeping that indicated his phone’s battery was low. “Before I hang up I’d like to ask whether you’d attend the Island Fair with me.”

  “We’ll talk about that, too, when you get here.”

  “Did someone else ask you first?”

  “No, Nate. You’re the first one.”

  “If that’s the case, then why won’t you give me your answer now?”

  “Hold on, Nate. David just walked in with your check and a copy of your executed contract.”

  “You talk to David. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  Nate ended the call without saying good-bye. A shadow of annoyance swept over his face, turning it into a mask of stone. Law firms had messengers on staff to deliver and pick up important documents. Why, he mused, did David feel the need to play messenger boy? Was it a ruse to continue to see Morgan under the guise of business?

  Even though he wasn’t prone to listening to or repeating gossip, Nate remembered the talk about someone noticing that David’s Lexus had been parked overnight at Morgan’s house. What’s funny is there’s nothing going on between David and me. We’re just friends.

  Why, he mused, did he remember her words as though she had said them minutes ago instead of weeks ago? Nate wanted to believe Morgan, but David’s name came up much too often for them to be just friends. Nate had come to detest the seven-letter word. Children were friends. And David and Morgan were no longer children.

  Sitting in the car, he cursed to himself. Nate felt pain shoot through his right hand, and when he looked down he realized he’d gripped the tiny phone so hard it’d left an impression on his palm. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he started the car and drove out of the hospital parking lot faster than the posted speed. He had to get back to his hotel room, pack, and check out. After he turned in the rental car he would try to secure a flight to Charleston. He’d have to see Dwight on his next trip out.

  Morgan came awake when she heard the doorbell. Sitting up, she stared at the clock on the bedside table. It was after two in the morning. Swinging her legs over the bed, she practically ran out the bedroom, Rasputin following close behind. She couldn’t imagine who would come to her home at this hour.

  Peering through the partially closed blinds, she saw Nate leaning against the porch column. Counting slowly to ten, she tried slowing down the runaway beating of her heart. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably when she was finally able to open the door.

  “What wrong?” The two words came out in a breathless whisper.

  Taking two long strides onto the porch, she found herself in his arms, his mouth coming down on hers in a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs. Her arms circled his neck, holding him close as her lips parted under his. She moaned as their tongues touched. Holding her aloft, Nate carried her inside the house, kicking the door closed behind them.

  Morgan felt as if a part of her had left her body, leaving her in suspended animation as she tried to understand what was happening to her. Was she dreaming, fantasizing about Nate making love to her? Cradling his face in her hands, she gave in to the wonderful sensations coursing through her body. It was only when she felt Nate’s growing erection against her middle that she was jolted back to reality.

  “Don’t.” The single word of protest sounded weak even to her ears. However, it was enough to make Nate raise his head. His breathing was labored, as if he’d run a grueling race.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he moaned in her ear.

  “Then why are you here at this hour?”

  “I missed you.”

  “You come to my house at two in the morning to tell me that you missed me?” She laughed softly when Nate placed tiny kisses all over her mouth.

  “Yes.”

  “You could’ve called and told me that.”

  Nate angled his head. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “Then what’s the matter?”

  Morgan covered her mouth to keep from blurting out how much she’d missed Nate. Missed seeing him, hearing his slow, drawling cadence, inhaling his cologne, and waiting for his kisses.

  She lowered her hand. “When I saw you standing there I thought something had happened.”

  Nate dropped his arms. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know,” he repeated softly. “I’m sorry if I woke you, but I need to know now if you’re going to the Island Fair with me.”

  Morgan was even more confused than before. Nate claimed he missed her, yet she’d gotten only one telephone call and two texts from him in two weeks. She also knew that going to the Island Fair with him would be like taking out a full-page ad in the local paper announcing they were a couple. It had been a tradition among island teenagers that whomever you attended the fair with would become your boyfriend or girlfriend for the summer.

  “What’s the rush, Nate?”

  “The rush is I want to ask you before someone else does.”

  “Even if they do it doesn’t mean I’m going to go with them. Now please go so I can get some sleep. I plan to go to the early service tomorrow.”

  Nate touched her thigh, his hand sliding up her bare hip under a cotton nightgown. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  It wasn’t until he left, closing the door behind him, that Morgan slid to the floor. She pressed the back of her hand to her m
outh to muffle cries of sexual frustration. She was shaking so hard her teeth chattered.

  Everything she’d dreamed had come true, and for reasons she didn’t understand she couldn’t tell Nate that she had missed him. That she didn’t want him to stop kissing her, and that if he’d asked she would’ve let him make love to her. But she feared he wouldn’t continue to date her or be willing to take things to the next level once they slept together.

  She also didn’t know why she hadn’t given him an answer about the fair. Maybe it was because going with him would mean that they were more than just two people hanging out. She’d been lying to Nate, Francine, and herself. She wanted to fall in love. She wanted marriage, and she definitely wanted her own family.

  Spending time with Kara and watching her face when she talked about Jeff was mesmerizing. The joy in her eyes was almost palpable. Kara had come to Angels Landing to accept her birthright, unaware she would find the love of her life.

  Rasputin crawled up on Morgan’s lap and settled down to sleep, forcing her to open her eyes. She had to get up and try to go back to sleep or she would be out of sorts for the rest of the day. It was Irene’s turn to host Sunday dinner, and Morgan had promised she would come to her house to help her make a few side dishes.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Ras, but I have to get up.” The cat jumped off her lap, heading for his own bed in the alcove off the pantry. Unlike a lot of cats, her pet preferred sleeping in his own bed to hers.

  She got back into bed, fluffing up the pillow under her head. Morgan stared at the whirling blades of the ceiling fan until her eyes grew heavy. She slept fitfully, erotic dreams assaulting her like missiles, until she got out of bed and lay on the love seat on the screened-in back porch to wait for the sun to rise.

  The warmth of the rising sun came through the screen, filtering over Morgan’s face. It was the heat that woke her. Smiling, she realized she had managed to grab snatches of much-needed sleep. The birds were singing, hopping from branch to branch, as Rasputin sat on a perch in the corner watching them.

  Sitting up, she stretched her arms upward at the same time she rolled her head on her shoulders to relieve the tightness. Morgan knew a leisurely soak in the bathtub would help start her day off right, followed by a full breakfast that would tide her over until she ate later that afternoon. Walking on bare feet, she made a mental note to call the Beauty Box to schedule a full-body massage. The tension holding her in a punishing vise was what wasn’t on her wish list.

  Morgan acknowledged the people she’d known all her life as she entered the Haven Creek Baptist Church. She walked to the pew where generations of Danes had sat since the small church had been erected. She stopped short when she spied Nate sitting between Irene and Rachel. She stared numbly at his strong jaw and chin when he lowered his head to hear what Rachel was saying. She’d remembered Nate attending services with his father, mother, and sister, but he’d stopped coming to church after his mother passed away.

  Why, she mused, was he sitting in her family pew when the Shaws had one of their own? And had he come to church because she’d mentioned she was coming? Well, she thought, she would find out soon enough. Morgan entered the pew, sitting on Rachel’s right.

  “Hey,” she whispered to her sister.

  Rachel’s head came around at the same time Nate turned to smile at her. “Hey,” Rachel said. “I told Nate he could sit with us because his family usually attends the later service.”

  Morgan stared at Nate, wondering why she hadn’t noticed the length of his lashes before now. “Good morning.” Her voice was shaded in neutral tones that belied the turmoil roiling inside her at that moment.

  A crooked smile touched his strong mouth. “Good morning, Mo.”

  Irene leaned forward. “I invited Nate to join to us for Sunday dinner.”

  If she hadn’t been in the house of the Lord Morgan would’ve told her sisters what she thought of their very transparent scheme. Instead, she settled back and picked up a hymnal. The church was quickly filling up with worshippers.

  Cavanaugh Island was eight square miles, with Sanctuary Cove claiming four of those miles, Angels Landing three, and Haven Creek a mere one. The Haven Creek Baptist Church had once been used as a one-room schoolhouse, and had a capacity of fifty. An addition expanded the church to include a Sunday school. It had become the norm for fathers to attend the later service while their children received Sunday school instruction. This ritual permitted their womenfolk to attend the early service, then return home to begin preparing the most important meal of the week.

  The corpulent organist sat on the bench, his thick fingers poised on the keys. A melodious chord filled the church, soaring to the rafters as the voices of the choir joined in. Morgan cast a surreptitious glance at Nate, smiling when she saw his lips moving as he sang along. It was apparent he hadn’t forgotten his religious upbringing.

  The one thing Morgan could count on during the summer months was that the service would begin and end on time. The lack of air-conditioning was definitely a factor. Ceiling and portable fans did little to dispel the humid air and the heat generated by the crush of human bodies.

  Reverend Hightower’s sermon, about King Nebuchadnezzar and Daniel’s ability to interpret the king’s dreams, was particularly moving for Morgan when she recalled her conversation with Francine, who had said, You dream and I can see the future. She couldn’t tell anyone that her dreams about Nate were triple-X-rated.

  The service ended with a recessional hymn, and Morgan walked to the lot set aside for parking. Nate followed, his arm around Rachel’s shoulders as she waddled slowly. She was a week past her due date.

  Morgan turned to face her sister. “You look like you’re ready to pop.”

  Rachel cradled her belly. “I know; I feel like it, too. I’m going home to lie down.”

  “Are you in pain?” Morgan asked.

  “No. I’m just uncomfortable.”

  Morgan glanced around the lot, looking for Rachel’s minivan. “Where’s your car?”

  “Irene picked me up.”

  Morgan saw her oldest sister talking to the assistant pastor. “I’ll take you home.” Rachel lived with her daughter and Charleston PD husband in a newly constructed four-bedroom West Ashley duplex apartment.

  “No,” Rachel said in protest. “You have to help Irene with dinner. Drop me off at Mama’s.”

  “I’ll take you to your mother’s house,” Nate volunteered.

  Rachel held her belly with both hands. “Have you ever delivered a baby, Nate?”

  He smiled. “Not yet.” He led Rachel to his truck, physically picking her up and settling her on the seat.

  “Where’s Rachel?”

  Morgan turned. She hadn’t heard Irene come up behind her. “Nate’s taking her to Mama’s. She should know she’s too close to having that baby to go gallivanting.”

  Irene sucked her teeth. “No one can tell Miss Know-It-All a thing. I told her to stay home, but she wouldn’t listen. Poor James threw his hands up. He told me on the down low that everyone at the Charleston PD has been alerted to expect a nine-one-one call from his wife.”

  “There’s something I need to know from you.”

  “What is it?” Irene asked as she took a pair of sunglasses from her handbag.

  “Why did you invite Nate to dinner?”

  “I saw him sitting alone, so I asked him to join us. Is that a problem?”

  Morgan’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Not for me.”

  Irene affected a smug smile as she settled her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Good. It also isn’t a problem for Nate.”

  “I know what you’re up to, Irene.”

  The elegant medical examiner’s eyebrows shot up. “And that is?”

  “You’re trying to set me up with Nate.”

  Irene fingered her key fob. “No, I’m not. You did that already. You know Mama hates gossip, so I’m going to let you know what I’ve heard. There’s talk that you and Nate
were seen together at Happy Hour. His truck was parked in your driveway, and someone claims they saw you walking together on Southern Pines Road. If you’re going with Nate, then you hit the jackpot. Every girl in high school had a crush on him, yours truly included.”

  Morgan’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t believe she wasn’t the only Dane girl to have a crush on Nate. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Why are you waiting until now to tell me this?”

  “I just want you to know that Dane women have impeccable taste when it comes to men.”

  The emotion eddying through Morgan was so strange and foreign that it took a full minute before she was able to identify it. The harder she’d tried to ignore the truth, the more it’d tormented her.

  She was still in love with Nate.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Morgan watched Irene as she added two cups of water to a large pot containing smoked turkey necks and bay leaves before she covered it with a lid. “Lower the flame and let it simmer until the necks are tender,” Morgan said. Both women had covered their short hair with colorful bandanas. It was a habit they’d adopted from their mother, who wore one when cooking to keep her hair out of the food.

  Irene gave Morgan a sidelong glance. “Maybe with you talking me through each step, I’ll be able to make a palatable gumbo.”

  “It’s all prep work. Now we’ll slice the sausage and chop the bell pepper, celery, white and green onions, and okra while the smoked meat is simmering.”

  “Are you going to chop the garlic clove?” Irene asked.

  Morgan shook her head. “No. You’ll add it to the chopped ingredients that you’ll sauté in a cast iron skillet. Do you have a cast iron skillet?”

  Irene glanced up at the pots and pans hanging from a rack suspended over the cooking island and stove top. “I was certain I had one.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll go home and get mine,” Morgan volunteered.

  Irene rested a hand on her sister’s arm, stopping her retreat. “Let me call Mama and ask her to bring hers.”

  “Mommy, Daddy wants to know when we’re going to eat.” Irene’s youngest son had come into the kitchen, handing her an empty bowl.