Morgan focused back on his peel, tore around the bottom, and pulled it free. “She didn’t give her us.”
“She was a kid, Morgan. So were you.”
Morgan tore the sections apart, separated one, and held it. “Rick, you can’t begin to understand.”
“I know.”
Morgan bit the section in half, chewed slowly, then added the other half. He was actually glad Rick had stopped him from running off with the bourbon. It hadn’t destroyed him yet, but too many more years of it would. And he wanted alcohol-free blood for the test.
He pulled out the card Jill had given him. It was someone from the Yale Cancer Center, but Jill’s number was written on the back. He had noticed she gave no phone number in the reunion information.
Must keep it unlisted. Probably tired of being hit on.
“What’s that?” Rick swallowed his last section of orange.
Morgan softly huffed. “My link to the woman I owe it all to.”
Rick took the card, read both sides, and handed it back. “A lot of men would have let this go, Morgan. Most would have been relieved and grateful their girlfriend took care of the problem. It says a lot that it didn’t leave you unchanged.”
Morgan looked at him. “Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“There’s good inside you that couldn’t stand what you thought Jill did. And there was good in her that couldn’t do it. God had His hand over both of you.”
God’s hand? Morgan tensed as a surge of pain shot through him. Was it good for her to let him believe their child had died? Good to disappear and never try to contact him, to explain? To leave him aching for what they had and would never find again? Sure, it had changed him. And not for the better. “Forgive me if I don’t see it that way. It’s kind of pathetic to think my little girl’s out there praying for a miracle, and I’m all she’s got.” He stood abruptly.
Rick looked up. “Where are you going?”
“Boulder.”
“Why?”
“To have blood drawn.”
Rick stood also. “Do you want me to come?”
Morgan grinned. “I think I can handle it. But thanks for the offer.”
“Are you coming back?”
Morgan sighed. “You’re worse than Mom.”
“You won’t be any good to your daughter if you smash yourself up on the road.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Morgan picked up the rest of the orange.
“I do manage to live without you most of the year.”
Rick gave a slow nod, unconvinced. But what did it matter?
“Kiss Noelle for me.”
Rick said nothing. Well, he had been pushing a button there.
“All right, kiss her for yourself.” He picked up the card and folded the instruction sheet into his pocket, in case the hospital in Boulder would need to contact them. He went out, pushed the keyless remote and disarmed the alarm, then reached for the car door.
“Morgan!”
He expelled a hard breath. Todd he did not need.
“Where you goin’?”
“Boulder.” Morgan pulled open the door.
“Can I come?”
“No.”
His tone must have communicated more than he meant to because Todd kicked dirt at him and walked away.
Morgan didn’t stop him. He owed the kid nothing. His daughter needed his focus and attention. But he closed his eyes and turned.
“Todd.”
Todd kept walking.
Morgan got into the car and brought the engine to life, then put the window down. In his rearview he saw Todd look. He put the car in reverse and zoomed back across the apron to where he stood. “I can’t take you this time.”
Todd just glared.
“Next time.” Morgan pulled away. If that wasn’t good enough, fine. He spun gravel, left the ranch and reached the highway, cranking up the strains of Fate’s voice in the Beethoven’s Last Night CD. If he could just get a grip on the situation. Why wouldn’t it make sense? It should. Jill had been a good girl. She would have wanted to do the right thing It had never fit that she would abort the child. Morgan knew that now. So why the lies?
To be rid of him. But now she needed him. No, be very careful there. Jill did not need him. Kelsey did. That was his focus.
In spite of the traffic, he reached the Boulder Community Hospital soon enough and explained that he needed to give blood for bone marrow typing.
“Do you have a doctor’s order for this?”
He showed the man the business card from Kelsey’s oncologist and the instruction sheet and chafed while the man read over it all. “Let me call over to the lab.”
From the end of the conversation he heard, Morgan guessed there was a problem. Why did they always have to make it difficult? To maintain an aura of importance, mystery even? Just take the blood!
But the man hung up and said, “We don’t do this draw. You’ll have to arrange it with the University Hospital in Denver. Cal? them in the morning.”
Morgan took back the business card and instruction sheet. Had Jill gone through all this? She must have hoped she’d match. Must have wanted to be the one to help their girl. Must have wanted to avoid his involvement. He felt a flicker of empathy as he imagined her realizing she had to go to him with it. He’d never been nasty to her until the reunion—hadn’t had the opportunity—but that night had set the tone. No wonder she’d been shaking.
He walked outside. The afternoon was fresh, no wind. Either it had passed or only haunted the upper elevations. Plenty of bikers and walkers along Boulder’s streets. He drove to Pearl Street and parked at the western end of the outdoor mall, set his alarm, and walked along the brick-paved street mall.
A rangy man with a ponytail held a long pipe that reached almost to his knees and played an endless combination of three notes. He had a stiff upturned turban before him on the ground, but Morgan didn’t think the music worth much. He passed a man on a crate. “Attention, everyone. I am going to perform an illegal act.” That drew the crowd “I am”—he shook out a cigarette—“going to light this cigarette in public. That’s right. In a public place, in sight of everyone, I will light and smoke this cigarette.” He flicked his Bic, held it to the cigarette, and inhaled.
Morgan passed on. He noticed the gaze of two women sitting on a planter in the second block of the mall. They smiled encouragingly. He kept walking. A little dog came and yapped around his legs and the woman at the end of the leash tried to hush it. “She has a thing for hotties. What can I say?” She pushed the plum-colored hair back behind her ear.
Obvious. Too obvious. Morgan left her to her dog. He was hungry. He’d had nothing but coffee that morning and the small orange he’d eaten on the drive down. He took a table in a street-side café. A waiter brought his menu and asked, “Can I get you something to drink?”
Morgan’s throat tightened. “Coke.” He looked down at the menu. “And a burger.”
“Which one?” The waiter indicated the column of burgers, everything from whiskey sauce to Cajun blackened. “Just a burger. Fries.” Morgan hadn’t had anything so mundane in years. As his man waltzed away, he looked back out to the mall. The two women strolled past and caught his eye again. Two of them, looking with open invitation, and he wasn’t the least bit interested. He frowned into the Coke, which arrived by another hand, then sipped the too sweet fizz.
Why hadn’t she told him the truth? Why had she carried the baby, given it away, and never told him the truth? A jazz sax started somewhere and kindled his melancholy. By the time his burger arrived he was sufficiently gloomy to order a Manhattan. When it came he gazed at it in its cone-shaped glass with two cherries on a plastic sword.
He lifted the sword and looked at the shockingly red cherries. A drip of bourbon dribbled down his fingers. He laid aside the sword and sucked the drip, then took up his burger. After the first bite he realized he wasn’t hungry after all. He left a twenty on the table and walked out into the mall.
On a sudden thought, he took out his cell and touched a speeddial number—not Bern Gershwin’s office, but his home. Their relationship had surpassed professional and had moved to racquetball every second Tuesday and the occasional barbeque with Bern’s family.
But this call would take things to a new depth.
“Bern, here. What’s up, Morgan?”
“Got a minute? I have a situation to discuss.”
Bern muffled the receiver. “Take that outside, boys. Your mother will skin you alive.” Then back on the line. “Of a professional nature?”
“Yes and no.”
“Well, I’m in my study now. We’ll consider what follows confidential. Go ahead.”
Morgan stared ahead as he walked, trying to think how best to express the bomb dropped in his lap. “When we set up my estate plan we stated no kids. That’s changed.” He explained what Jill had told him, not surprised by the pause on the other side.
Then, “Hold on, Morgan. I’m going to start from scratch on this.” Thorough lawyer that he was.
“Shoot.”
“What makes you think the girl is yours?”
That sent a jolt through his system. Morgan frowned, stepping off the sidewalk and circling his car. He hadn’t considered anything else. “Bern, Jill wants me to donate bone marrow.”
“A little more creative than some. Convince me.”
Morgan disarmed the car and got in. “Fifteen years ago, she was pregnant with my child. I was told she had an abortion, but …”
“So she lied.”
A flash of fury. Yes, she had lied, or others had for her. In fifteen years she’d never tried to correct it.
“When was the last time you saw her?”
Morgan settled back against the seat. “A week ago. Class reunion.”
“Interesting timing.”
Bern had a point. “Wouldn’t she ask for money, not blood?”
“You’d be surprised. Talk to our estate guys about the heirs that come out of the woodwork.” Bern huffed his disgust. “This bone marrow plea could be the ploy that opens your vein and starts the money flowing.”
Morgan tried to picture Jill scamming him for money. That thought had occurred, but only in conjunction with Kelsey being his daughter and child support issues. Once she’d described the leukemia and produced the medical center information … that had to be true. “I don’t think she’s making it up. I just want to know how this affects things.”
“That’s up to you. Operating on the possibility it’s legit, I can talk to a colleague in the firm and get back to you. You need to know how you want to proceed. Proof of paternity, etcetera.”
Morgan closed his eyes. How much more complicated would it get? “I’ve agreed to the testing for a bone marrow match. Wouldn’t that tell us all we need to know?”
“For medical purposes, perhaps. Not legally without a suit unless you’re on the birth certificate.”
He seriously doubted that. “Look into it for me, Bern.” Then he risked making it more personal still. “I want to see her.”
A pause. “You mean that?”
Morgan cleared his throat. “What are my chances?”
“I have no idea.”
But he’d find out.
CHAPTER
11
Jill would not allow herself to think what might happen if Morgan’s stem cells didn’t match. As she sat on the flight, buffeted and jostled by the wind, she imagined Kelsey getting stronger, Morgan’s marrow fighting the disease inside her. It would all be worth it. God would not have sent her otherwise. He was not fickle. His love was everlasting. She knew that, even if she couldn’t capture the surety just then in her heart. She didn’t have to feel it to believe. She had maintained that position for years.
If it was feelings she sought, they were there in plenty. Too many. In his casual designer shorts and seersucker shirt, Morgan had looked as good as he did the other night. And he’d certainly not been dressed to impress anyone this time. The white retro Thunderbird outside the house had to be his. And she had noted the Dell laptop on the table. What was she doing crashing into his life when he’d obviously done so well with it?
She stared out through the oval Plexiglas at the sun setting beneath her. It was for Kelsey—regardless of the feelings that had threatened to make it personal. What attraction there was between them was fatal. No one could bridge so much pain and betrayal. At least Morgan had made it clear he never wanted to see her again. A spark of defensive anger rose inside her. They were agreed on that.
After landing, she collected her overnight bag and drove home.
The message light flashed on her phone. Lethargically she pressed the button. Her mother’s voice: Jill, I didn’t hear back from you. Everything all right? Call me, dear. Then Cinda: Jill, this is Cinda. Could you give me a call at your convenience? Thanks. She rattled off the number, and Jill noted the nervousness in her tone. She must have agonized over whether it had worked out with Morgan.
Rascal plastered himself against her leg as Jill picked up the phone. Cinda first. “Hello, this is Jill.”
“Oh, Jill. Thanks for calling. How did it go?”
Jill leaned on the counter. “I found Morgan and he’ll have the blood test.”
“Praise God! Jill, I can’t thank you enough. How was it?”
“He wants to see Kelsey.”
A long pause. “What did you tell him?”
Jill repeated what she had explained, at Cinda’s request, that it would be too stressful for Kelsey. If the stress still surging inside Jill was any indication, Cinda was right.
Cinda spoke flatly. “It isn’t the same as with you. We had … some connection. You delivered Kelsey. You gave us our daughter. He …Jill, I appreciate what he’s doing, but … Kelsey’s confused enough. If she has to try to conjure feelings for a stranger and …”
Cinda had already expressed all that when Jill raised the possibility of Morgan as a donor. She assumed the message was intended for her, as well. “I understand.” She’d seen Kelsey’s spunk but also her vulnerability. As Morgan was now, he could say and do things that … hurt. Kelsey had to be protected.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Nothing in her voice betrayed how very un-fine she was “I’m relieved he agreed. I guess we wait to hear.” She threaded her fingers into her hair.
“Yes. Too much waiting. Like Jesus on the Mount of Olives.” Cinda sighed.
Jill scratched under Rascal’s chin as he stretched himself up to her lower thigh, demanding recognition. “Did you tell Kelsey about Morgan?”
“Only that there’s another potential match.”
“I guess that’s best.” Jill heard Morgan again, saying he wanted to see his daughter. He meant it, but he didn’t understand. Did she? She tried to see it from Morgan’s side. She was asking so much and giving nothing. How could she begin to make up for the hurt? Morgan would understand—once he was over the shock and thinking clearly. At least his fury was only for her and not his daughter.
“On the other hand, and I know this sounds inconsistent,” Cinda paused, “but Kelsey would like to see you again.”
Jill’s throat tightened. Why would Kelsey ask that? They could explain her first trip easily enough, donor-recipient connection. But she was no longer the donor. Another visit, when there was no longer a medical connection, when she didn’t match? What would she say? How could she carry out the charade? And didn’t it violate what Cinda had just said? Keeping it simple for Kelsey surely didn’t include another visit.
“I explained that she couldn’t expect you to come again. But she insisted I ask.”
Jill pressed her hand to her eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
The silence lingered, then, “To be honest, it’s not what I wanted. But I don’t have the heart to deny something she wants so much. I certainly understand if you can’t come, especially now that there isn’t a match.”
“You have to know that if Kelse
y’s asking, I can’t say no.”
“I didn’t think so.” There was a smile in her voice. She understood Kelsey’s magnetism.
They worked out a time on Wednesday between Kelsey’s maintenance chemotherapy and after Jill had finished tutoring her students. Then she hung up and stared at the floor. Had she been disloyal to Morgan? Should she have urged Cinda to reconsider? How selfish was it to see Kelsey herself, then side against him for the very same?
It wasn’t her decision. Quickly she punched in the speed-dial code for her mother. A rush of relief when she got the answering machine. “Mom, everything’s fine. Hope all’s well with you and Dad. Talk to you later.”
God was merciful. She scooped up Rascal, and he curled his paws around her neck. She snuggled her face into the fur beneath his head, letting his purr vibrate her cheekbone. Then when he had established his ownership, he wiggled out of her arms and jumped to the floor.
Just as well. She had little to give in the wake of emotional overload. The phone rang. She picked it up. “Hi, Shelly.”
“I saw your light.”
“Um-hmm.”
“Can I bring you some brownies?”
Jill smiled. “Brownies are definitely what I need.” Even if it meant she’d relive the day for Shelly. Maybe talking about it would give her some perspective. Shelly was always good for perspective.
The knock came while Jill was halfway into her nightshirt. Shelly called from the kitchen. “Dr. Brownie’s here.”
Jill tugged down the nightshirt and met Shelly in the kitchen. “I had to change. I might fall asleep at any moment.”
“Not until I’ve heard it all.”
Jill reached for a papery-topped gooey brownie. No one made them like Shelly.
“Milk?”
Jill nodded. “Sure.”
Shelly poured them each a glass. Jill took the plate into the living room and sat in the giraffe chair. Shelly curled her legs up on the couch, setting the two glasses of milk on the corner table between them. “So tell me.”
Jill bit into her brownie and chewed the bittersweet confection. “Not until I’m fortified.” She followed the brownie with a long chug of milk. Was there anything so good? In spurts and rushes she told Shelly about Morgan, how he’d been that day, and how he’d been at the reunion, and how he’d been before. She shook her head. “I feel like I’ve ruined his life.”
The Still of Night Page 13
