The Still of Night

by Kristen Heitzmann

  Noelle smiled. “No. Your silver tongue is notorious. But I’m all right.”

  “I think you could use the help. And frankly, this place isn’t the same without her.”

  “You mean my cooking.”

  He winked. “What say I cajole her for a month or two?”

  Noelle laughed. “Morgan …” Then she sobered. “It is tempting.”

  He stood up. “She still with her son’s family in Littleton?”

  Noelle nodded. “Last we heard. Aren’t you going to call first?”

  “No. The personal touch is more effective.” Though it hadn’t been with Noelle. She’d resisted his touch like no woman before or after, until he’d used his magic to reunite her with Rick. Something was wrong with that picture. Why could he make things work for everyone else but himself? If he consulted on his own life, would he find the answer?

  “I’m so glad you’re back, Morgan.”

  That warmed him more than it should have. “I’m not staying long.” With a quick wave, he strode out and saw Rick riding Destiny, his sorrel stallion, down from the high pasture. He ought to run the plan by him, as it was his brother’s ranch. He waited in the yard while Rick dismounted the impeccably behaved horse. Hard to believe it was the same fiery-tempered animal upon which Rick had charged into the yard the first day Noelle arrived. Morgan half suspected Noelle had married Rick for Destiny.

  “Hey, Morgan. You’re back.”

  “Sort of.”

  Rick crooked an eyebrow.

  Morgan pulled his keys from his slacks pocket. “I’m going to fetch Marta for a couple months to help Noelle out.”

  “Oh, you are, are you?”

  Morgan smiled. “With your agreement, of course.”

  Rick propped his hands on his hips. “First off, Marta won’t come. She’s crazy about living with her grandkids. And secondly, I can’t afford to pay her what she’s worth. Since we’re not taking guests this summer, aside from Stan’s family, I have only the sale of the foals and the occasional riding party. With Noelle’s illness …”

  “Let me do it.”

  Rick shook his head. “I know you can afford to, but—”

  “All the times I come up here, eat your food, take up a room, gaze at your lovely wife. I owe you.”

  “Sorry, Morgan.”

  “Ever heard of the deadly sin of pride?”

  Rick studied him a long moment. “It’s not pride, it’s … well, okay, it is.” He dropped his chin. “It’s not easy having the daughter of old money for a wife.”

  Try not having her. “Let me spring for Marta.”

  Rick frowned. “Man, you’re annoying.”

  “Come on.”

  “Don’t make her think I put you up to it. And don’t make her feel guilty if she refuses.”

  Morgan started for his car. “She won’t refuse.”

  And the really annoying thing was that she wouldn’t. Rick was sure of it. He watched Morgan take off in his Thunderbird and knew his brother would do whatever it took to get Marta up to the ranch to cook and clean and order them around. Not that it was a bad thing, especially with Todd and Stan still baching it, and Noelle hardly past the pneumonia.

  That had been a bad scare, and she was still weak and tired. Soon she’d be cumbersome. Marta was exactly what she needed. It just rankled that Morgan thought of it. And yes, it was pride. Morgan might have his faults, but he sure had his gifts, as well, like seeing a problem and providing a solution. Rick looked over the ranch. A good part of his relative security was thanks to Morgan.

  He’d gotten him into the ground floor of a few prospects that had made a tidy profit. Nothing like the first company that launched Morgan into big-time money, but enough subsequent suggestions to buy into one or another of the corporations he was turning around. It was a risk, of course. If Morgan’s plan didn’t work, there would be no profit and maybe losses as well. But that had yet to happen.

  Still, Rick guarded those investments carefully for his family’s future. The ranch income was normally sufficient for their everyday needs. At least he owned it outright, had no mortgage to concern him, only the property taxes, insurance, and expenses. He waited to be a good steward over all that he had. And Noelle seemed content. But Morgan saw things with an outside eye and didn’t hesitate to intervene.

  Rick stabled Destiny and went inside the house. Noelle was asleep on the couch. He stood a long moment watching her, love swelling inside him like the baby that enlarged her belly. The hours beside her hospital bed had brought back too clearly the ones spent there after her fall on Aldebaran, the mare she’d ridden over the flaky shale slope.

  That had taught him too well not to lose his temper with her. She was so fragile in so many ways, yet she was strong, too. And the Lord would make her stronger still as she grew in faith. Looking at her now, he could understand Morgan’s wanting to help her. Some women just brought that out in a man.

  Even Jill, the day she’d come. He had spent a lot of years blaming her, but when he’d stepped in the door and seen her there, his first instinct had been to reach out, say something more than her name. But Morgan had moved her out too quickly.

  Noelle stirred, opened her eyes, and smiled. “What are you doing?”

  “Watching you sleep.”

  She patted the couch next to her, and he sat down, curled her into his arms, and kissed her. She caught his vest lapels and drew a breath beside his cheek. “You smell like horses.”

  “Yep. Aldebaran’s foal tangled with something last night. Had to bandage up his leg.”

  “Is he all right?”

  Rick kissed her eyebrows. “He’s fine. Sort of put me in the doctoring mood, though.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Know anyone who might need some TLC?”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled into his neck.

  “This is not the place.” He scooped her into his arms, then carried her up the winding stairs. While they had the house to themselves he ought to take advantage of it.

  Morgan returned four hours later with Marta and six bags of groceries. Rick had to hand it to him. Morgan made you want to do his request. Marta would not have stood a chance. She looked smaller somehow but just as spry, her gray hair wrapped around her head in braids. It took her all of two minutes to shoo them out of the kitchen so she could get started on supper. In the front room, he gripped Morgan’s shoulder. “What did it cost you?”

  Morgan smiled. “A gentleman never tells.”

  Rick wrestled him by the neck, but Morgan refused to talk. Whatever it was, it would sure be nice having Marta again. If just for a while. He went down to Stan’s cabin and knocked. They’d been taking most of their meals at the big house already, but he and Noelle hadn’t put together anything spectacular, and while she was in the hospital, he’d just given them the run of the kitchen.

  Stan opened the door. “Hi, Rick.”

  Rick glanced in and saw Todd with his back to them, hunched over a Game Boy. “I wanted to let you know we’ve got our cook back. Her name’s Marta. Used to be here every summer, and believe me, she’s amazing.”

  “Hey, that’s great.”

  Was that relief in his face? Noelle might not be the best cook …. Rick caught that thought and pressed on. “Morgan talked Marta into a couple of months. You’ll get some terrific meals.”

  Todd looked up. “Morgan’s back?”

  Rick nodded. “I’m not sure how long.”

  Stan stepped out and closed the door behind him. He glanced back, then spoke low. “Rick, I’m debating the effectiveness of this venture. The few days with just the two of us, I almost threw it in.” He spread his hands. “That just now was the first interest he’s shown in anything.”

  Rick studied the man’s face. Discouragement definitely. “That’s your call, Stan. You have the cabin as long as you like.”

  “If I could think of anything else …” Stan raised his hand and dropped it limply. “I was hoping for a breakthrough before I took him ba
ck into real life.”

  Rick nodded.

  “It was too much for Melanie and for Sarah. They needed some normalcy.”

  “Are you sure of your call?”

  “To foster care?” Stan pursed his lips and stared at the floor of the stoop. “I don’t feel released.”

  Rick gripped Stan’s shoulder. “Then run the race.”

  Stan nodded. “Maybe now that Morgan’s back …”

  “Stan.” Rick dropped his hand. “Morgan outshines most of the male population. You can ride his shadow, but is that going to accomplish what you need?”

  Stan sighed. “Probably not.”

  “Fight for the kid, Stan. Morgan’s magnetism won’t outlast your faithfulness.”

  Stan drew himself straight. “You think?”

  Rick nodded.

  “That’s what I heard in my prayer time. Persistent widow and all that.”

  Rick smiled. “Keep knocking.” He started off the stoop.

  “Rick, is everything all right with Morgan?”

  Rick released a long breath. How did one answer that? In the world’s view Morgan was king. In God’s eyes … “You could keep him in your prayers.”

  Stan nodded. “I will.”

  They all sat down that evening to blackberry-glazed pork chops, scalloped potatoes au gratin, fresh string beans, and oatmeal muffins. She complained, but Morgan insisted Marta sit at the long table with them.

  “None of that hiding in the kitchen, Marta. You’ll eat with the rest of us or the deal’s off.” He gave Rick a taunting wink.

  Rick frowned. What was the deal? He’d get it out of him one way or another.

  Noelle clasped her hands at her throat and gazed at the fare on the table like Cinderella at the ball. “Now I know I’ve starved my husband.”

  Rick gave her a smile. “I did not marry you for your cooking.” “Good thing.”

  Rick bowed his head and blessed their meal with special thanks for Marta, who prepared it. For the second time that day, his heart swelled inside him. God was good. He glanced at Todd, pleased to see a sem blance of appreciation on the boy’s face. And close to hero worship when the kid looked at Morgan.

  Stan had a fight ahead, but something inside told him Morgan was playing a part there, too. Just as he had with Noelle.

  Still riding the wave of the coup he’d accomplished, Morgan winked at Todd, although the kid had been sullen and silent throughout the meal and seemed less appreciative than he ought to be. Once he had more of Marta’s great cooking to fill him out, he’d be more than grateful. The rest of them already were, especially judging by Stan’s portions.

  Morgan smiled to himself. When he’d shown up at Marta’s door, she had literally shaken him by the shoulders. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you called or written? I hear from Rick and from Noelle. Do I hear from you?”

  “I’m here now.”

  “And full of mischief, I’m sure.”

  Morgan gave her his best smile. “No mischief, Marta. Just a little of the devil.”

  “You don’t fool me.” She’d tugged him inside. “Come see my angels.”

  So he’d met the family, all suitably impressed by the things Marta told about him. And he’d shown equal appreciation for the boasts she made on the children. Then he’d thrown the offhand, “By the way, I’ve come to kidnap Marta.” They had argued of course, though he could tell she was not only flattered, she was tempted. But what had really gotten her were the small educational trusts he’d promised to set up for the two grandkids. Yep, he knew her soft underbelly.

  Once she’d decided, they all seemed open to the break and Marta had packed up her things and said good-bye. She’d actually teared up with joy when he drove her into the ranch. She’d dabbed her eyes furiously. “Don’t you tell.”

  He’d kissed her cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  After the meal, while the others chatted in the dining room, Todd cornered him on his way up the stairs. “Why’d you leave?”

  Morgan leaned his hip to the banister. “I needed to go home.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “California.”

  Todd stuck his fingers into the loosely woven throw across the back of the couch. “You just flew there and back?” The use of his prime swear word in that sentence betrayed some fresh animosity.

  “That’s right.”

  “You have your own plane or something?” There it was again.

  Were they starting from scratch?

  Morgan dislodged a shred of pork chop from between two molars with his tongue. “I flew Delta. Is that all right with you?”

  Todd scowled. “You just took off. I didn’t even know you’d gone.”

  Morgan shrugged. That’s how he operated. He came and went as he pleased.

  “Why’d you go?”

  “I felt like it. Missed the waves on the rocks.” The control of his own place. And of course he’d had all the medical reasons, which he was not about to elaborate to Todd.

  Todd kicked the bottom edge of the couch, a nervous rhythm.

  “?ick said you had something happen. He thought maybe you wanted to be alone.”

  “Maybe I did.”

  “What happened?”

  Morgan considered the kid, saw more behind his questions than nosiness. But he was not ready to discuss his daughter. He’d spent every day at home trying to figure it all out. The second matching test had determined a lot more than Kelsey’s immediate future; it had altered his.

  “How did you and Stan like having the ranch to yourselves?”

  Todd swore again.

  Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t you come up and see what I brought you?”

  “You brought me something?”

  Morgan started up the stairs, Todd following. Part of what he’d brought should make Todd ecstatic. The other part would be a tougher sell. With Todd’s present mood, it would be tougher yet. Morgan hadn’t realized how much he’d shaken the kid by leaving. That was not a good sign. Todd needed to attach to Stan, develop that trust.

  They went into his room, and Todd immediately honed in on the laptop on the dresser.

  “Don’t touch it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s booby-trapped.”

  “Liar.”

  “Calling me a liar, kid?” On impulse, Morgan grabbed him around the shoulders, wrestled him over, and tossed him down onto the bed.

  Todd’s face reddened and he flailed wildly. He was scrappy but too small to defend himself. He hollered, “Cut it out.”

  “Why should I?” Morgan pushed him down, grinning.

  Todd pressed him back with his fists, but he had little natural strength. He’d be an easy mark for any bully. As soon as he sat up, Morgan pushed him down again like an inflatable toy with a sand bottom. “You think you’re so tough.”

  Todd resisted the next push. “You think you’re so tough!”

  Morgan leaned his hip against the pine log that formed the foot post. “Uh-oh. You’ve got my number.”

  Todd grinned in spite of himself, gave Morgan’s arm one last shove. “So where’s my present?”

  Morgan cocked his head. “Actually I have two. One you’ll like more now, and the other you’ll appreciate the rest of your life.”

  Todd glared. “Great. It must be good for me.”

  “And the deal is, you can’t have one without the other.”

  Todd swore.

  “You have to agree.”

  “No way.” Todd shook his head. “I don’t even know I want the first one.”

  Morgan walked over to the closet and eased out a box. He set it on the bed beside Todd and watched the kid’s eyes widen. Todd tore open the carton and pulled out the portable TV. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!”

  He’d gauged that one well. Rick, and even Stan, might spend their days just fine with no television, but Todd had griped constantly. He let the kid ogle the set until he’d satisfied himself, then look
ed up.

  “What’s the other thing?”

  Morgan went to the closet again and pulled out the phonics and reading program he’d ordered from the radio after hearing the ad. Any

  one of any age can learn to read with our back-to-basics program. He set it on the bed beside Todd. “The deal is you work on this with Stan and learn to read.” Stan was a teacher, after all. “The TV’s your reward.”

  Todd stared at the plastic carton that held the reading program and chewed his lower lip. “I know how to read.”

  “That’s not what you told me before.”

  “I can read some stuff. I just don’t know how to figure all of it out.”

  “So here’s your chance.” Morgan hoped the lure of the TV would be enough to win him to the idea.

  Todd stared at the TV a long moment, then shrugged. “I guess.”

  Morgan smiled. “Let’s run it by Stan.” He slid the TV back into its carton and handed it off to Todd, then took the reading program and led the way downstairs.

  Rick and Stan were still in the dining room, though Marta and Noelle had gone into the kitchen. Both men looked up as Morgan motioned Todd in around him, gripping the carton protectively. Morgan waited in the doorway as Todd approached his foster dad.

  “Morgan gave me this.” He looked at Morgan, then back. “I can have it if you teach me to read.”

  Not exactly the words Morgan would have chosen, nor the tone, confrontational and defensive at once.

  Stan drew his brows together. “What do you mean?”

  “You probably thought I was stupid. But I didn’t get to school much when they taught the kids how to read. Morgan thinks that’ll help.” Todd jerked his chin toward the reading program. Morgan handed it over.

  “You never told me you couldn’t read.” Stan looked from one to the other of them as he took the program.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t really care. But I don’t get the TV unless you teach me, so are you going to?”

  Morgan winced. Maybe he should have spoken for Todd.

  Stan looked down at the package, turned it over and read the back, then looked up. His expression was similar to Jimmy Stewart’s in It’s a Wonderful Life, sort of pleading and betrayed. Didn’t he see it was his chance to bond and help Todd succeed? What kind of teacher was he?