The movie Luke had brought was an older sports story called Rudy. Todd seemed to relate to the main character’s struggle, maybe being undersized himself. Morgan thought the end a little farfetched, where the dogged bench warmer scores the winning touchdown in the last play of the season, but it was supposedly true—at least based on a true story—and the message was one Todd could use. Don’t give up.
After the neighbors went home, Morgan sent Todd to bed and made a point of going up himself. He sat down on the bed and rested his hands on his thighs. It felt like ages since he’d woken with a headache and faced one insult after another. But it had been good to help Todd in the water and see him enjoy the evening. What a precarious age thirteen was. Or fourteen.
How was Kelsey doing? How long would it be until he heard? Had the marrow engrafted? How was he supposed to go about his days as if nothing were different? He’d thought having Todd would take his mind off it. In a way it had, but in a thousand other ways it triggered thoughts and questions.
Seeing Todd’s thin, bony legs made him try to picture hers. Had Kelsey ever swum in the ocean? Searched for shells in the sand? What if she were down the hall? They’d say more than four words to each other. There was so much he wanted to know.
Did she wonder about him? Or was the dad who raised her the only man she cared about? One phone call. He’d heard her voice. Why didn’t he ask her for a picture?
He sighed heavily. Sleep would be good. He’d need his energy for tomorrow. Maybe at Disneyland, Todd would lighten up and stay off his case.
Jill snuggled Rascal under her chin the next day as she lay on the couch for another gray morning. Setting aside the educational journal, she buried her fingers in Rascal’s fur and stroked him with her nails. His purr was surprisingly smooth, which meant he was not only content, he was peaceful. The rain had softened overnight but not stopped, and it still fell steadily, making the water run off the gutters in streams. She’d spent a few hours reading, escaping, occupying her mind and wondering if she should have bared her soul to Gina, Deborah, and Pat the day before.
Sitting up, she settled Rascal onto the couch where he arched up in a luxurious stretch and fluffed his tail, tempting her to settle back down with him and doze. But now that she was up, she had to do something. She’d missed her run again because of the rain. It was not worth the mud. But she wanted to do something.
The phone rang and she snatched it up. “Hello?”
“I have to talk to you.” Shelly sounded breathless.
“Are you all right?”
“Yep. Can you come over?”
Jill looked outside. “Sure. Be right there.” She unfurled her umbrella at the patio door and ran across the yard.
Shelly closed the door behind her, then pulled up her shirt, baring her belly. She pointed with her finger. “They got a heartbeat.”
The smile broke into Jill’s face. “That’s great. I didn’t know you were that far along.”
“Look.” Shelly kept her finger in place. “Don’t tell me you thought that was all me.”
Jill laughed. “You’re doing it the healthy way. I weighed less at five months than when I started.”
“Figures.” Shelly poured them each a glass of milk and set out a plate of cookies with thick chunks of chocolate and walnuts. “This baby demands chocolate.”
Jill raised skeptical brows. “Really?”
“I read an article that said you need to anticipate and respond to your baby’s needs. I’m only complying.” She bit a chunk from the edge of a cookie.
Jill took one from the plate. “What’s my excuse?”
“You don’t need one.” Shelly drank her milk. “So do you want the nitty-gritty?”
“Every detail.” Jill savored Shelly’s baking. Mrs. Field’s, eat your heart out.
Shelly went over her doctor’s appointment in detail. “You should have heard it, this whooshy sound, then clear as a bell this little heart-beat. Of course you’d never know that’s what it was until they told you.” Shelly snatched up another cookie, then got up and motioned. “Come here a minute.”
Shelly led her into the bedroom. “I found the best book.” She lifted a coffee-table-sized book from the bed. “It’s all these photographs of babies in the womb. Look at this one.” She flipped through, then back, then found the page. “He’s sucking his thumb.”
Jill stared at the picture, one she’d seen before in documentaries and magazines. Still, to see the cartoon-shaped baby with his thumb in his mouth made her tremble. To think she might have destroyed that precious life inside her. But she hadn’t. And that was the grace in all of it.
“And this one.” Shelly showed her a much earlier picture. “That’s about how big Brett Junior is now. It looks like a tadpole with wings.”
“Brett Junior?”
Shelly bit into her cookie. “We won’t actually call him that.”
“Especially if it’s a girl.”
“If it’s a girl, I’m calling her Natasha.” Shelly swallowed and flipped the page.
“Boris for a boy?”
Shelly sent her a look. “Very funny. But I kind of like Rocky. And knowing Brett, his first Christmas gift will be boxing gloves.” She popped the end of the cookie into her mouth. “Rocky Barlowe has a ring, don’t you think?”
“What does Brett think?”
“We haven’t talked about names yet. He’s been working swings in addition to his shift.” Shelly rubbed a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “They’ve had a rash of burglaries, drug related they’re pretty sure. He and Dan have been working like crazy.” Shelly plumped down on the bed. “Jill, are you and Dan done for good?”
“Why?” Jill settled across from her.
“He’s seeing a lot of Melissa.”
Jill turned the page of the book to a full-page photo, all red and amber. “I think that’s good.”
“At the game it seemed like he wished it was you hanging on his arm.”
“We’re friends.” She looked up. “I’m glad we could keep that. He’s not a bitter sort of guy. I wonder what went wrong for his marriage.”
“Liz.”
“Oh, Shelly, it’s never black and white.” Jill shook her head. “I’ve been seeing that too clearly.”
“Maybe. But you didn’t know Liz.” Shelly dragged another immense book onto the bed. “Look at this one. I found it in the same section of the store. It’s Anne Geddes.” She flipped open the cover. “She has all these babies inside flowers and stuff.”
They looked through the book, exclaiming over the newborns in pea pods, on rose petals, in tulips. Jill’s heart swelled for Shelly, who not only seemed past her disbelief but engrossed in anything to do with babies. She grabbed her hand. “I am so excited for you. And Brett.”
Shelly’s entire face smiled. “I just thought it wasn’t for me. But now my whole mind is changed, and I haven’t even had him yet.” She sobered. “Will you be there with me? Would it be too hard for you?”
Jill looked down at the baby sleeping on a leaf, stroked it with her finger. “I’d love to.” She swallowed. “I only got to hold Kelsey for half an hour.”
“You can hold mine anytime you want. You’ll be his auntie.”
Jill smiled. “I can’t wait.” But could her heart bear it? She slowly paged through the book again, amazed and enthralled by the beauty of the impossibly small beings, curled up or hunched like caterpillars. The flower parts were artistic, but nothing matched the miracle of those tiny, tiny babies. It rushed in on her so potently. Kelsey’s fuzzy skin, her curved, wrinkled arms and little bowed legs, the heel of her foot hardly larger than a thumb.
A chasm of longing opened up for a baby inside her like Shelly’s, the flutters and kicks, even the groans and strain of pushing her out, then holding her, holding and never letting go. Oh, God. To look into the face of another baby with Morgan’s eyes.
She stood up. “I better go.”
“Can’t you stay and have lunch? Brett’s gone an
d I took the whole day off.”
Jill looked out at the silent rain.
Shelly caught her elbow. “You don’t want to go out there. Let’s put on a chick flick and eat hoagies and ice cream.”
Jill laughed. “Sounds pretty good.” Twice now, friends had stemmed the tide. Maybe that was God’s hand, invisible yet real, loving her through Pat and Gina, Deborah and Shelly. And she needed all the love she could get, since she was having dinner tomorrow night with her parents.
Morgan laughed with Todd as their jeep careened down in front of the giant rolling stone, tipping them into its path, then diving under-neath. There was enough little boy in Todd to respond to the magic of Disney in spite of himself. When they finished that ride, Morgan asked Todd and Dana’s two sons if they’d had enough.
No, it was back to Splash Mountain, Morgan trailing behind. Bringing the other kids had been a good move. It avoided awkwardness and made it more fun for Todd. What adolescent wouldn’t rather have friends along than a thirty-three-year-old man? There had been a few nice moments, and Morgan wondered if Todd was trying to make up for his rudeness.
Morgan boarded the Splash Mountain raft, this time riding with Luke, with Todd and Matt sitting together. He was a little surprised Todd had gravitated so easily to the neighbor boys. He’d have guessed at a prickly personality that made friendship difficult. Maybe it was a vacation syndrome, a nonthreatening, convenient friendship. Maybe it was Luke’s and Matt’s congenial natures.
They had eaten hours ago and the park would close soon. But the boys were wound up and going strong. It would be hard to match it tomorrow. Maybe Todd would welcome a low-key day after this one. Wishful thinking.
Not until the rides had closed did they join the streams of die-hards leaving the park. Definitely a successful day. They had taken the SUV to comfortably seat the four of them. He drove home, guarding his smiles as the boys talked about the rides and events of the day, picked at each other for being scared of silly things like the Pirates of the Caribbean or the hippos in the jungle ride. Todd seemed quieter now than the other two. Morgan pulled into the neighbors’ driveway and let them out.
Their dad, Mark, opened the front door. As Matt and Luke filed inside, he called, “Thanks for taking the boys. They behave?”
“Better than I would have.” Although he had been taught courtesy and generally used it, a day at Disneyland with two buddies and a nonparental sort …
“Good.” Mark smiled, obviously expecting that answer. What if he’d said they were holy terrors?
Morgan waved a hand and pulled across the street with Todd, the quiet of the night closing around them. “Think you’ll sleep tonight?”
Todd shrugged. “I see roller-coaster tracks every time I close my eyes.”
Morgan caught his shoulder in a companionable grip. “Did you have a good time?”
Todd nodded, then glanced sideways. “Thanks.”
Morgan fought not to show his surprise. It was the first time the kid had thanked him for anything—not the movies they’d seen, the things he’d bought, the places they’d gone. Maybe Disneyland was finally big enough. Or the other boys’ manners had worn off. “You’re welcome.”
As he let them into the house, Consuela met them with two messages, though she had normally retired by then. Both were Stan, and Morgan directed Todd to return the call, though it would be late in Colorado. He should have told him what they’d planned and maybe he would have let one night pass without the checkin.
Consuela laid a hand on his arm. “You survived it?”
He smiled at Consuela’s choice of words. “I did.”
She signed herself with the cross. “Better you on those rides than me.”
He cocked his head. “Aw, they’re harmless. It was keeping up with three teens that has me weary.”
“And your stomach?”
Morgan pressed a hand to his flat torso. “Fine.” It had handled lunch and dinner and all the rides without complaint. “I’m making headway.”
“Good.” She shuffled off to bed.
It was the perfect time for a slow-sipping whiskey on his deck. But he’d promised Todd, and as the kid came back from making his call, there was a light in his eyes Morgan wouldn’t dim.
“Did you tell him about it?”
Todd shrugged. “Kinda.”
It couldn’t have been the long version. “Did you wake him?”
“No. He was waiting up.”
Morgan jerked the side of his mouth. “We should have thought of that. It’s an hour later in Colorado.”
Todd shrugged again. “His choice.”
Morgan ruffled Todd’s hair. “Better get some sleep.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?”
Recovering. “What would you like to do?”
Todd grinned. “Take your boat out.”
Morgan considered that. “Sure. If you think you can handle it.”
He touched his fist playfully to Todd’s jaw, but the kid shied and scowled. Morgan withdrew his hand, fingers splayed in surrender. “Let’s get to bed.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, I am.” He was tired of second-guessing every motion, every word.
“I’ll watch a movie.”
Morgan considered his collection. He wouldn’t have thought twice before Dana’s comment. Now he wondered how positive most of the choices would be for a thirteen-year-old kid. “Not tonight, Todd.”
Todd’s expression darkened, the brows lowering over glaring eyes. “Why do you want me in bed so bad?”
“Because it’s late, and I’m tired.” Don’t spoil what we’ve had.
“So go to bed yourself and leave me alone.”
Morgan ticked off in his mind the minutes since they’d come home. Exactly when had the amenable Todd disappeared? When he threw his play punch? How was he to know that would freak the kid out? Was this some power play now?
“If you want to take the boat out, we should get a good night’s sleep.”
“You won’t sleep. You just want me out of the way so you can get drunk.”
Fury surged. “I told you I wouldn’t drink while you’re here.”
“Yeah? So what?”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Morgan forced an even tone.
“You’ll say anything.”
Morgan cocked his jaw. “Go to bed, Todd.”
Todd’s hands fisted as he stormed up the stairs. That kid could drive anyone to drink. Maybe there were two sides to his dad’s story. Morgan ran a hand through his hair. He’d spent the whole day playing Disney tour guide, and this was what he got? It was his house, his life. He wished he hadn’t told Todd he wouldn’t drink.
But he had. And if he took a drink now, he would be a liar. Oh, wouldn’t the kid be smug then? Well, he’d done his time. He could call tomorrow and arrange an early flight back. If Todd wasn’t grateful or even appreciative, that was his problem. Morgan took the stairs equally stormily. He was tired, but after he’d stripped and groomed for bed, he paced his room, frustrated.
He had not been so personally scrutinized since leaving home. And it was wearing thin. If Todd would quit projecting … but maybe the kid couldn’t help it. Morgan opened his door and listened. Nothing. He crossed the hall, put his ear to Todd’s door. What was that? Not normal breathing. Crying? He tapped the door, opened it, and leaned in. “Don’t throw anything.”
Todd sniffed. “Go away.” He was huddled in the corner of the room, gripped in his own arms.
Morgan walked in, halted some five feet from him. “What’s up?”
Todd didn’t answer.
“Is it me?”
Todd shook his head.
“Are you homesick?”
The kid swore.
“I thought we were friends.”
Todd swiped his hand under his nose and gasped a jagged breath. “Leave me alone.”
“I don’t think you want me to.”
Todd didn’t answer.
“Todd
, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Just stuff.”
Morgan sat down. “Your dad?” He anticipated blows.
But Todd nodded, sniffed his running nose. “One time he took me to a carnival. I was excited, but he brought a bottle. He puked on the second ride and hit me for watching. It made my nose bleed, and I got scared and ran away through the booths. He just kept bellowing, and I knew if he found me he’d beat me up.” Todd swiped his face again.
Morgan tried not to picture the scene, but it was all too vivid.
“I didn’t know where to go. The carnival was closing, and all these guys that looked … bad teeth and stuff, were watching me. I thought I could just hide in a ride or something. But when I tried to get on the carousel, Dad caught me. He slapped me so hard I wet my pants.”
Morgan’s chest constricted. Was that what Todd saw in him? It chilled him down the spine. He reached out and gripped Todd’s forearm. “You’re out of that now. Stan won’t hurt you, and neither would I.”
Todd leaned into the wall. “Stan doesn’t drink.”
Morgan squeezed his arm and let go. “You can go back tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to.” Todd looked up sideways.
Morgan spread his hands. “I don’t know what else to tell you. You either trust me or you don’t.”
Todd rested his head against the wall. “The stupid thing is, I loved him.”
“It wouldn’t hurt if you didn’t.”
Todd put his elbow across his knees and buried his face. Morgan moved closer to hold his shoulder while he cried. And Todd’s dad had probably loved him, until he’d messed himself up so much he couldn’t. Morgan fought a wave of disgust. “You don’t even see it.” How much didn’t he see? At that moment, Todd was a mirror, and Morgan couldn’t help but look.
CHAPTER
34
The next day was perfect to be on the water. They’d lubed on sunscreen, filled a cooler with watermelon, chips, and turkey sandwiches, and hit the waves. Now they floated, engine silent, Morgan’s arms tucked behind his head, ankles crossed. Looking side-ways at the boy sprawled on the cushioned seat, he felt a fresh stirring of affection.
The Still of Night Page 42
