“Morgan?”
“We should get going, or they’ll be out of biscuits.”
“What’s wrong?”
“If they run out of biscuits, we’ll have to settle for waffles.”
I put the truck in park.
“We’ll be late.”
“Then you’d better start talking. About something besides biscuits and the fact my truck leaks oil.”
His shoulder jerked.
“I told you I’d go get tested.”
A high-pitched cry ticked out of the back of his throat. It snapped off with another hard twitch that jerked his entire torso.
I watched helplessly as Morgan fought with the onslaught of tics. I wanted to comfort him, but I was afraid it would only make things worse. The rumble of the truck engine kept us company for a good five minutes. His body calmed until he was only rocking and flicking thoughts.
A tractor drove by on the road in front of us, carrying a round bale of hay.
Morgan pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. Wrinkles covered the surface. He held it out to me.
I took it and opened it up. The letterhead was from the Alamo Prison Facility. It was a notice of a parole hearing.
“They sent me a letter.” Morgan’s voice was flat. He no longer rocked, but his hand remained close to his temple. “They’re gonna let him out.”
“That’s not what this means.”
“They’re going to let him out.” He thumped his fist against the door. “After everything they promised.”
“It’s a hearing. It doesn’t mean they’re going to grant him parole.”
“He’ll come back here.” Morgan’s shoulder jerked. “He’ll come back here, Grant.”
“You can contest it, you know.” I glanced at the piece of paper. “You’ve got six almost seven months. You could take time off from Toolies. I’ll even drive you there.” Atlanta was a good four hours away, but I’d do it.
“I can’t.”
“They have to let you dispute it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t. I can’t, Grant. I just can’t.” The flush in his cheeks hardened his features. “He knows I can’t. Everyone knows I can’t.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
Morgan flicked thoughts.
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No.”
“Then we’ll get you one.”
“They cost money I don’t have.”
They were expensive. The good ones were really expensive. My retainer with Harriet Price was a hard hundred grand. And I hadn’t even needed her beyond a phone consultation yet.
“I’ll make some calls.” I’d have to use my standard account. There wasn’t much there, thirty grand maybe. If Harriet wanted more, then I’d be shit out of luck. Touching the offshore accounts would be like ringing a dinner bell. Jeff and all his frat boys would be on my doorstep by morning.
“No.”
“Look, you need a lawyer. I have a lawyer.”
“No.”
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. “Yes.”
Morgan fell still again.
“I’m sorry.” I scrubbed my jaw. “I didn’t mean to yell, it’s just…” I took a breath. “We all need help sometimes, Morgan. Everyone. I want to help you. Please, let me.”
“I can’t leave Durstrand. I just can’t.”
I’d be a liar if I claimed to understand why. So I said, “If Ms. Price insists on a face to face, we’ll figure something out.”
Morgan dropped his chin to his chest.
“Can I keep this in case she needs me to fax it?”
He nodded.
“Try not to worry. It’ll work out.” And if it didn’t, killing Dillon wouldn’t be a problem. It went against everything I believed in and left me worried that maybe I wasn’t as different from Lorado as I claimed.
I could only hope it wouldn’t come to that.
I put the truck in gear and the transmission clinked.
“Probably should get that checked.”
I put the truck back in park, and slid over next to Morgan. He startled when I cupped his face and tilted his chin up. I kissed him, long, slow. Right there in the driveway, I made love to his mouth. I worshiped his exhales. I savored his taste.
And in all my years, I’d never kissed anyone like I did him. I never wanted to. But Morgan wasn’t just anyone.
When we broke apart, the tension was gone from his body and he all but melted in my arms.
“Why?” The question was barely a whisper.
“Why what?”
“Why would you do that?”
I thought a moment. When I came up with nothing, I knew better than to try and lie. “I’m not sure.”
He lifted his gaze. The amount of trust in his eyes made it hard for me to breathe. Resignation was the last thing I’d expected.
Not just because I was in awe but because I knew how dangerous it was for him to hand over that kind of power. The fact he could do it so easily after a terrible experience made me realize Morgan was far stronger than I’d ever given him credit for.
Morgan brushed his lips against mine. “We should go.”
“Or they’ll run out of biscuits.”
“And we’ll have to eat waffles.”
“Can’t have that.”
“Would be a waste of gas.”
I scooted back over to my side and we turned onto the street.
********
Fran’s was one of those mom-and-pop places so “mom-and-pop” they’d started out as a house and at some point evolved into a place of business.
It wasn’t located on a back road, but it definitely wasn’t in town. Although, in town for Durstrand, wasn’t much more than a drug store, grocery store, and a gas station edged by a thirty mile stretch of highway leading into Maysville.
I parked under a large oak tree. There was a swing dangling from one of the branches some ten feet off the ground. Over the years, bark had swallowed the rusted chains wrapped around the limbs and weather had rotted the wooden seat.
Morgan and I didn’t speak for the entire drive, but the aura of isolation he’d worn was gone.
A cool breeze and warm sun followed us to the front door. An elderly man helped his wife up onto the porch. I held open the door while he maneuvered her and her walker inside.
“That was very gallant of you, Grant.” The normality in Morgan’s voice washed away my lingering apprehension. He cut around me and I followed him.
Salt, buttermilk, and a hundred years’ worth of aged wood saturated the air. Pale blue walls reflected the unrestricted light pouring in from the windows across old rickety tables and mismatched chairs.
And they say time travel isn’t possible.
Even some of the patrons looked like they’d fallen out of the early 1900s, dressed in overalls, flannel shirts, and floral print dresses. The sprinkling of young people with more modern taste were the only cracks in the illusion.
A sign at the front read Seat Yourself. I scanned the room. Some people looked up from their meals. It wasn’t the quick kind of glance, but one of those I’ve seen you before but where?
“There are empty spots over there.” I tipped my head in the direction of the vacant tables.
Morgan flicked thoughts. “Won’t work.” Before I could ask why, he yelled out, “Miranda.” One of the waitresses glanced our way, then went to the back.
Morgan rocked on his feet.
“You sure you want to do this?” I said.
“Yes.”
“Miranda.” Morgan didn’t seem to give a shit just how loud he yelled.
Two men in bright orange vests gave Morgan a dirty look. I caught the redhead’s gaze. The battle lasted all of three seconds before he went back to picking at his ham and eggs.
“Miranda.”
“Is she in the back?” I said.
“Miranda.”
“Do you want me to go look?” I took a step, and Mo
rgan grabbed my arm.
He started to yell again when a dark-skinned middle-aged woman came barreling in from the back. “Hold your horses, Morgan Kade.” She took him by the elbow and led him around the tables.
“What took you so long?” Morgan said.
“I was up to my elbows in dough.”
“You shouldn’t take so long.”
“And you should’a called. We’ve had this conversation before. You call, I’ll meet you out front, and you won’t have no need of yell’n your lungs out.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “You must be Grant.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I wasn’t one for forgetting a face, and I’d never met her.
“I’m Miranda Cane.” She cut me a sly smile and ran a look over me. I had the sudden urge to make sure I hadn’t forgotten to zip my fly.
A waitress handing out plates to customers paused and watched us go by.
Three elderly women sitting at another table had stopped eating. They tracked us until we reached a hall going—I had no idea where.
The narrow space took us to a back room where the tables were long benches and the chairs plastic. There was a snack machine and a microwave on a small piece of counter against the wall.
“Have a seat.” Miranda gestured to me. “I’ll go get you a menu, unless you know what you want.”
“Biscuits,” Morgan said. “Gravy, two eggs scrambled, three pieces of bacon, and orange juice.”
“I was talking to your boyfriend, Morgan. Everyone knows what you want.”
She batted her eyes at me.
“Uh, a menu. Thanks.”
“Coffee?”
“Sure.”
She left, and I sat. “Is this the break room?”
Morgan scanned the room. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“You didn’t…” I caught a glimpse of his smile. “Quit yanking my chain.”
“But you’re so easy, Grant. Not that I’m complaining.” Morgan’s shoulder jerked. “Yes, it’s the break room.”
“Is there a reason we’re back here?”
He fluttered his fingers. “It can get too crowded out there. Loud. Bright. Too much going on. Quieter back here.”
“You work at Toolies when it’s crowded.”
He nodded. Then he tapped his ear. “Earbuds. Keep the music loud enough to drown most of it out. It helps I’m there all the time. But sometimes when there are a lot of new people, I stay in the back and wash dishes.”
Miranda returned with our drinks and a menu.
“I changed my mind,” I said. “I’ll have what Morgan’s having.”
“Sure thing.” She hovered a moment at the end of the table before vanishing back down the hall.
“Is it my imagination, or is she staring at me?”
“She’s staring.” Morgan moved the napkin dispenser from the center of the table to the edge. “When can you teach me to drive? I was thinking Sunday. Early afternoon. It’s supposed to rain on Saturday.”
I thought a moment. “Sunday should work.”
“What time? Twelve would be good. Unless you want to do it earlier. I get up early, as you know, so we can do it at nine if you want. But if you don’t, I can work on a few sculptures till you come over.”
“Nine works for me.”
Morgan nodded. Then he moved the napkin dispenser to the opposite side.
I picked up one of the straws Miranda left behind. “Want one?”
“Thanks.” Morgan took it. “Since you’re retired, what are you going to do this week?”
“I have a kitchen sink needing to be plumbed.” Just one of many unfinished projects. Thing was, I really didn’t care if I went back home or not. I could have spent days locked up in a room with Morgan. I wouldn’t even need food and water as long as I had a bottle of lubricant.
“Get your head out of the gutter, Grant.”
I laughed. “You a mind reader now?”
“Don’t have to be.”
“Then how would you know when I was thinking dirty?”
“Your eye twitches.”
“My eye twitches?”
“Yeah.”
“Should my bullshitamometer be sounding off?”
“Don’t know. Might wanna check into getting a new one when you replace your watch.”
I threw an unopened creamer at him, and he ducked. With his head down, I don’t even know how he saw it coming. Then again, this was a man who could hear light.
And just like that, I felt unworthy of his presence. It was silly, ‘cause I knew damn well Morgan would never think such a thing. Which made it all the more difficult to feel any other way.
I took a sip of my coffee. It was perfect.
“Grant.”
“Yeah?”
“I—”
Miranda walked in with our food balanced on her arm. “Here you go.” She set a plate in front of me, but Morgan’s plate she turned putting the bacon on the right, the eggs on the left, the bowl of gravy at the top, leaving the two biscuits lined up in the center.
Morgan stared.
“Oh, honey, what did I forget?”
“It’s all wrong.”
“Wrong? How could it be wrong? I put everything just like you like it.”
“That’s on Tuesdays, today is Thursday.”
Her mouth fell open. She looked at me. I have no idea why. It’s not like I knew.
Miranda exhaled defeat and started to reach for the plate. Morgan tipped his head just enough to flash a smile. He fluttered a hand at his temple, and she slapped him on the shoulder.
“Wise ass.”
“Not my fault you don’t pay attention.”
“Eat your breakfast.”
Morgan held out a hand.
“What?”
“Silverware.”
Miranda patted down the pocket of her apron and came back with paper wrapped eating utensils. “I ought to make you eat with your fingers, but I don’t want to have to clean up the mess.” Her tone was serious, but her eyes laughed. To me, she said, “I sure hope you can keep him in line. He gives me more gray hairs than my kids ever did.”
Before I had a chance to reply, she was gone.
“That was mean.” But I still grinned.
“She’s used to it.”
“Do you make a habit of picking on waitresses?”
“Nope. Just Miranda.” He ate his eggs.
“You two must go back a ways.”
His shoulder jerked and he lost his bite of eggs onto the table. Morgan didn’t miss a beat. He scooped them up and popped them in his mouth. “She and Lori used to work together as housekeepers for some folks. After Lori quit, Miranda would come by to help out. You know, clean house, help do the shopping.”
From what little I’d learned about Morgan, I was pretty sure why. What Morgan said next confirmed it.
“I was a lot of work. Lori never said so. But I know I was.”
“She sounds like she was a remarkable woman.”
He nodded.
I ate, and Morgan ate. I couldn’t help but wonder how Lori paid the bills. Most folks didn’t clean other people’s houses for fun. So she probably didn’t have a savings or some kind of inheritance to live off of.
Morgan used a knife to dissect his biscuit. He ate the outer crust first, then the soft insides. Each bite was paired with a dab of gravy and a bit of bacon.
When he was halfway done, he put down his fork. The tic in his shoulder was accompanied by a flutter of his hand next to his temple. I waited for him to gain control. It didn’t take as long as it did in the truck.
Another few moments went by before he spoke. “I met Dillon when he came into Toolies. I think I was in love with him before he even sat down in one of the booths. Lori asked me not to leave with him, but I did. It didn’t take me long to figure out I was just a hole for him to fuck. It started small. First he complained about I embarrassed him in front of his friends, then he accused me of sleeping around, then he hit.” A whine ticked out of Morgan’s thro
at. It stopped. “I wanted to go home. I would have called Lori, but he didn’t have a landline and always took his cell with him. Things went really bad when he caught me trying to sneak out.” Another series of muscle spasms assaulted Morgan. “He dragged me back up the stairs. I screamed for help, and no one opened their door. He turned up the music to drown out the rest. They said it was three days or so before anyone found me. And only because he’d left the music on and the landlord couldn’t get anyone to answer the door. But I don’t remember any of that because I went away.”
Went away. Last night in the grips of that dream Morgan had went away. It seemed too simple of an explanation, but I couldn’t think of a better one.
“He would have gotten more time if I could have testified. But I couldn’t, so they let him plead out.” He took a bite of his eggs. “That’s what happened. Now you don’t have to ask.”
What did I say? Thank you for telling me? It felt like an insult.
The thought of Morgan lying broken for three days did something to me. I don’t even know what, but it was a physical shift as loud and hard as the truck’s transmission.
“Will you do me a favor?” Morgan took a sip of his orange juice.
I nodded because I didn’t trust myself to speak. My mind was still rolling over the things he’d told me. And I’d seen enough beatings in my life to fuel my imagination.
“My order of bottles will be at the post today. I found red ones. Not the brown red or the orange red, but real red, like cherries. I’ve never had glass that color before. I ordered a dozen, so the box will be big. Usually I ask Jenny to pick them up, but I thought if you were going to be in town—”
“Yes.” My voice didn’t even crack.
Morgan nodded again. “You can bring them by whenever.”
“Sure thing.” I forced myself to take a few more bites, but the food had lost its flavor and I’d lost my appetite.
Years ago, when I first got into the business, Eugene told me every man has a limit. No matter how hard you try to be respectable. After twenty years of smuggling, I’d never hit mine. I got out because I didn’t want to discover what it was.
Who would have thought I’d find it in a Podunk town in the middle of nowhere, in the form of a beautiful man with the most incredible eyes? Thanks to Durstrand, that monster I’d tried so hard not to become would finally win.
In The Absence Of Light Page 18