by J. J. Keller
Justin nodded. Shania sucked in her breath.
“Gosh, Shania, I didn’t know Justin knew the word. He’s never said that before.” Megan stepped forward, hand outstretched.
Morgan met her halfway and shook her small hand. “Thanks for taking care of my son.”
“Excuse me.” Shania sounded as if she were choking. She took a deep breath, then ran into the bathroom.
“Megan, if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay with Justin tonight.” Morgan tried to put Justin on the sofa, but he clung like a monkey to a banana tree. He shifted the boy to his other hip and reached into his back pocket. “Let me give you something, so you can enjoy your night off.”
“That’s buck.” She smiled, accepted the twenty, and shouted, “Shania, you all right in there?”
“Yes. Sorry, Megan. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thank you.” Her suddenly nasal voice came from the other side of the door.
Morgan’s heart wrenched. He’d done that, made her cry.
“See ya, buddy,” Megan said to Justin. She winked, making the pink ball on her eyebrow move. She turned with a dramatic flair and bounced out of the apartment.
“Bye, Megan,” Justin shouted, kicking his stocking feet against Morgan’s thigh.
Morgan placed him on the carpet. “I’ll be right back. Get your trucks out and we’ll play.”
Justin nodded and scampered, gathering his toys.
Morgan went to the bathroom and knocked lightly. The sniffles indicated Shania was upset. He was the reason, and he needed to sort the various threads to help unravel the mess. “May I come in?”
Shania opened the door and glanced at Morgan, then Justin. He’d flipped on the television. A cartoon played on the screen. She took a step back and Morgan entered, shutting the wood until the latch clicked.
He grabbed her and tucked his face into the nook of her neck and shoulder. She allowed him to stroke her back. He breathed in her essence. “What’s wrong?”
“Justin said Daddy,” she mumbled into his shirt collar. Her muscles relaxed.
“You don’t want him to call me…that?” He couldn’t say the word. When the child of his heart shouted “Daddy” he’d nearly collapsed. In his dreams he’d envisioned them as a family, with Shania referring to him as husband and Justin labeling him Daddy. Her snow-white face led him to believe his wish might not come true. Had Shania found another father for Justin? His gut tightened in pain. In the past two months had she found someone to entitle partner or lover?
“No, I’m surprised and happy. You have been a father to him. It’s normal for Justin to love the people he sees the most and who take care of him. Are you okay with him calling you Daddy?” She backed away, but maintained eye contact with him. A tear glimmered on her right cheekbone.
“Yes.” He caressed the side of her face, wiping away the tear and smoothing her short hair behind her ears. A touch of her lips to his. He’d loved her for the past four years and never once had their mouths connected. Fear he wouldn’t stop with a simple brush had always prevented him from approaching her and joining their souls. He wanted to kiss her. She was unattached and they were free to be together. He loved her. Morgan leaned―
Light taps sounded on the door. “I need to potty.”
She turned her cheek, breaking the spell. “And I need to go to class. Monsieur Barrett shuts the door and doesn’t let students, arriving late, inside.”
Morgan swiped his hand through his hair. Their first kiss shouldn’t happen in a bathroom anyway. He opened the door, letting Justin enter.
She bent down and kissed Justin’s forehead. “I need to rush. Be good. I’ll be back after class, around ten.”
She slid beside Morgan and exited the tight space. Morgan left the door ajar, rushed forward, and grabbed her hand. “Skip class, spend the night with us.”
“I can’t. Next week is the final.” She released his hand, lifted two bags, and headed to the door. “Morgan, there’s juice and whatever he wants to eat in the fridge. Here, let me get you a key in case you want to go out later. The apartment closes-in fast, so a breath of air helps. Do you have a car seat?”
He nodded.
“The area’s safe, but on Thursday night the parties commence.” She dug into her purse, her fingers deep in the contents, and came up with a brass house key.
He took the token, holding his fingers against hers for a longer period than necessary. “We need to talk.”
“Tonight.” She glanced at the clock, grabbed her backpack and rushed out the door.
A small hand slid across his palm. He glanced down at Justin. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid.”
“Juice?” Justin asked.
“Sure.” Hands clasped, they walked to the fridge. Morgan shoved the key into his pocket and pulled the door open. The light bulb glared at them in the nearly empty refrigerator. Two small cups were on the left side of the shelf. On the right side were a half gallon of low-fat milk, a liter of apple juice and two containers of yogurt.
A loaf of bread, jam and organic peanut butter occupied the second shelf.
He let the door close and had a strong urge to go through the cupboards to see if she had any food. Sadness at seeing a nearly empty fridge and pantry made his gut clutch. He’d let them down. Thankfully Mrs. Miller gave him the clue about Briarwood, so he’d called and tracked Shania’s address through student services.
Morgan mentally kicked himself for not being available when they needed him. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”
“See horses?” Justin asked.
“I don’t know. Where are your shoes?” Morgan led him to the sofa. “Oh, there they are.”
Morgan grabbed the small pair of shoes and carried them to Justin. “Here you go.”
“No, they hurt.” Justin pushed his hands against them.
“Son, if you want to go into a restaurant you’ll have to wear something on your feet. No shirt, no shoes, no service.” He tickled the bottom of Justin’s soles. Giggles echoed through the room. A child’s laughter was something he’d truly missed. He’d fight for Shania and Justin. They would legally become a family.
Morgan slid the shoes onto Justin’s feet and understood. The boy had grown and the footwear was too small.
“Do you have other shoes?”
“Boots.” Justin pointed to his bedroom.
Morgan went into the small room and noticed a pair of red boots up against the end of the cot. They looked twice the size of the athletic shoes. He walked out to Justin, who remained on the sofa swinging his feet.
“Why don’t we get you new shoes and then go to dinner?”
Justin nodded. Morgan slipped the shoes onto Justin’s feet, leaving the center open so he’d have a slight flex space. After helping Justin put on his coat and hat, Morgan zipped his own, tugged the apartment key out of his pants pocket and locked the door. He gathered Justin into his arms and carried him down the stairs.
His pickup truck held a metered space outside the building. Ten minutes left on the time. He’d park down the block in an overnight parking structure when they returned. He settled Justin on the child’s carrier beside him and placed the seatbelt around the little hips. Morgan hoped--planned--for Shania and Justin to return with him, so the booster seat was in place.
“Don’t move around because I need to concentrate on driving. Okay?”
Justin nodded, glanced at the dials of the radio, and crossed his arms.
Morgan disliked a shopping center with a passion. However, by going to a mall he could achieve both goals of getting footwear and food. He parked his truck and helped Justin out of the vehicle. He carried him into the nearest shoe store. Justin selected a pair with lights on the edges of the soles that glowed when he ran throughout the shop. He stomped his feet, keeping his gaze glued to the mirrors along the way.
The gray-haired salesperson squinted behind his black plastic eyeglasses. His white shirt had a nametag embossed with Dave. He handed Morgan an empty box inside a plastic bag. “H
ere’s your change. Do you want me to toss the old ones?”
“Yes, thanks, Dave.” Morgan took the sack.
“He’ll be a hit on the playground. We just got the shoes today. They’re trainers for tots, to teach them to run properly. You know, heel to toe. Heel lights up green for go. Toe has a yellow light for caution.” He dropped the tiny, worn-out pair in a trash bin at the side of the counter.
“Sounds like a nice idea.” Morgan glanced around for Justin. “Come on, Justin. We’ll get some chow.”
Justin screamed in glee as they passed by a restaurant with a large mouse on the billboard. The inside of the eatery resembled a carnival with toys, games and loud music. Pizza was delivered on a large round pie pan, with cheese resembling glue and tasting like rubber. The clang-clang of the pinball machines added to Morgan’s distaste for the environment. Kids ran around, playing video games, jumping in a cage filled with balls. By the time they walked out of the germ-infested mousetrap, Morgan was exhausted. He choked back the tomato sauce caught in his craw.
They exited the mall and climbed into his truck. Morgan strapped Justin to his car seat. “Let’s go to the market and get some apples and bananas. Are you up for one more stop?”
“Sure. See horses?” He bounced his heels against the edge of the car seat and clapped his hands together. The sugar high from Mouse-Critter cotton candy was still running through the little guy’s system.
“Maybe.” At the market Morgan intended to get fruit and vegetables, but Justin ran ahead, tossing items into the cart. Aware that Shania preferred organic or natural foods, he put most of the products Justin chose back on the shelf.
Morgan checked out, stowed the goods in the back and drove to Shania’s apartment. He parked in the garage, lifted the bags into one hand and clasped Justin’s fingers with the other. Justin’s steps were slow and lethargic. The sugar buzz had worn off.
Unlocking the door proved to be a challenge as he balanced several sacks. He lowered the bags inside the door, shucked his coat and picked up Justin’s from where he’d shed it. The groceries were shoved into the fridge.
Justin lay on the floor, his head resting on an outstretched arm, and moved a truck over the carpet. Morgan went into the bathroom and started the water to fill the tub.
“Come on, kid, you’ll take a bath and then to bed. I’m sure it’s later than your usual time.” He rolled up his shirt sleeves.
Justin dropped the truck in the middle of the floor and entered the bathroom.
He glanced into the clear pool. “Bubbles?”
Morgan turned off the faucet. From past experience, he knew Justin would play in bubbles for a long time. “How about tomorrow? I’m very tired. Tonight we’ll do a quick clean and off to bed.”
“Okay.” He sat on the floor and tugged off his shoes. A green light sparkled as a sole hit the linoleum.
Morgan helped him remove his clothes, then lifted him over the edge of the tub. He squeezed liquid from a bottle of bath wash onto a sponge shaped like a square with facial features, trousers and a red tie.
“Adam bought your mom a new phone?”
Justin nodded, keeping his attention on swirling the water.
“Do you like Adam?” Morgan didn’t like himself for asking, but he had to know. He smashed the gum-scented soap onto the necktie of the sponge’s imprinted outfit. With gentleness he reserved for his son, he removed the evening’s germs from his unknowing revealer of information.
“Yes.” Justin yawned. His hand created an eddy through the water.
Morgan rinsed him. He should come out and ask, “Does he come often? Has he stayed overnight?”
“Okay, buddy, out you go. We’ll get you tucked in.” Morgan grabbed a towel from the basket next to the tub. He wanted to know if the man kissed Shania, yet he didn’t.
He wrapped a towel around Justin, then carried him into the bedroom. Dressed and under the covers, Justin’s eyelids shuttered closed as fast as the bathwater drained.
Morgan went into the bathroom, stripped and jumped into the tub. He pulled the gold curtain. He quickly removed the stench of pizza using Shania’s vanilla-scented liquid soap. How should he approach her? Out of the shower, he used a towel from the bar to tap dry. Morgan’s jeans stuck to his wet skin. Snatching his shirt, socks and loafers off the floor, he gathered Justin’s soiled clothing and shoes. Burdened with garments, he strode into the living room.
Had another man entered their lives while Morgan followed his own code of honor? He placed his long sleeve button-down on the sofa arm and dropped his work boots. Next he dumped Justin’s clothes in the hamper and placed the new shoes beside the bed. Morgan padded behind the cleverly painted curtain to glance out the window. The quad was alive with activity--guys hanging in a crowd, women wrapping their arms around the men’s waists, trying to draw attention. One female danced in circles on the dew-capped lawn.
The scene took him back to his youth, as a student on campus. A mere five years later he felt old and tired of being alone. Tired of loving a woman who continued to be out of reach. He glanced at her bed. Had another man occupied the space beside the woman he loved? No, he couldn’t see her taking a lover to bed in the same room as Justin. Her character wouldn’t allow her to be with someone without a commitment in place. Morgan laid on the edge of her bed, breathing in her woman scent, a combination of vanilla and Shania. He was so very tired.
Chapter 10
Shania grabbed the edge of the classroom door right before it closed. Students hovered around seats chatting, comparing notes. Others removed their sketches from the rectangular cubicles and placed them on easels. The room had a charcoal graphite aroma instead of the pleasant oil paint scents she’d become fond of and accustomed to. She’d wanted to be an artist from the time she experienced finger-painting in primary school. The desire to craft had never faltered. No constricting of strings with painting. Love of art was a constant in her ever-changing life.
Monsieur Barrett bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Miss Miller.”
His dour facial expression made her reconsider going home to be with Justin and Morgan. A spark of anger resided in Monsieur’s eyes, making her stomach quiver in unknowing fear.
“I’m sorry for being late,” she said and slid past him.
“I need to see you after class,” he replied. His voice resonated throughout the room. “Class, open your Fillwalk text to chapter twelve. William Morris Hunt’s life revolved around melancholy and a sense of isolation.”
Shania could relate to Hunt’s emotional trauma, both of them experienced sadness and self-imposed separation from people, individuals she regarded as family.
“Hunt had a vision as a painter, as all of us do. He joined other artists specializing in the country’s finest landscape painting.”As professor Barrett’s monotone voice continued discussing an American drawing group, Shania mentally related to the sense of loneliness.
Solitude and expression. Like Hunt, Shania had secluded herself from the world to some extent, and she’d been downright miserable until two hours ago. Morgan had returned to them. What would her future hold? Would he become a part of their lives--permanently?
“Thomas Cole’s Study of a Blasted Tree inspires isolation similar to Hunt. The broken and desolate peaks of granite and deep seclusion of the tangled woods describe his thoughts of pathless solitude.” The professor stood beside her seat.
Shania understood pathless solitude in regards to her relationships. She wandered aimlessly trying to determine what choices would create harmony in her life. Materialistically, goals had been set. Responsibilities were always present, but what about love? She’d loved two men. Beck had declared his love, yet never exhibited faith and loyalty. Beck’s parents probably had someone they wanted him to marry. Obviously Beck had lied to the other woman as well, since he was engaged to both at them for a period of time. Funny she never ran into the blonde when she visited Beck. Regardless, he’d gotten what he wanted. She couldn’t be angry with Bec
k because their engagement had been a win-win situation. He’d been relieved of whatever he’d wanted to flee for that short amount of time, and she’d become a mother.
She existed because of Justin. Regardless of what he did in the future, she’d never abandon her son. Giving her love to her child and to Morgan proved to be like a landscape painting, highs and lows using different textures at every level.
“The canvas confines a moment of silence and mystery as the obstacle is breached.” Monsieur Barrett tapped the top of the desk, bringing her out of her musings. “Miss Miller, name another artist who creates a harmony between nature, humans and landscapes.”
Crap. She shouldn’t have been focusing on her own problems rather than listening to the professor’s recapping of the old material.
“Homer?”
“Good guess, Miss Miller. Winslow Homer, a semi-solitude artist, was lured by nature.” Monsieur strolled back to the front of the classroom.
Her focus remained on the professor, while her mind continued its journey down Morgan Lane. She had hope in her life that loneliness would be in her past, because an unmarried Morgan was back in their lives. What had he told the wedding guests? Was Shania’s reputation more exposed and dirty than it had been? No, if Morgan made the announcement, he wouldn’t have said anything negative. Patty? Yes, she would have freely trash-talked Shania.
Did Morgan love her? Would he tell her tonight?
If he did, he’d surely have contacted her before now. Morgan’s high morals and strong sense of responsibility would obligate him. More than likely, he couldn’t reach her due to her broken phone. His upstanding character would lead him to Briarwood to determine if she and Justin were okay. She hadn’t thought about it before this second, but just because he didn’t marry Patty didn’t mean he’d ended the engagement. Ah, that thought was certainly a new texture to the “love” mural.
Her pulse shot to a fast speed, keeping time with the professor’s click of the power point. Could Morgan still be engaged? Instead of sketching in Morgan, Justin and her, the fantastic lovescape could be comprised of only Justin and her--semi-solitude.