Now wouldn’t that be a wedding day story to tell. We’d be front-page news.
Again.
Apparently the issuing of a marriage license to a same-sex couple won out the announcement of the county fair, a supposed Big Foot sighting, and the breaking and entering of Big John Porta Johns.
Nothing was stolen. Morgan suggested maybe someone just had to go really bad.
I continued to wipe at the stain, and Morgan undid the carnation on the opposite lapel and used it to cover up the pink blotch. “See, all better.”
And a lot less work than baking soda, and it wouldn’t leave me smelling like a pickle.
We held hands and made our way through groups of screaming kids, balloons, and streamers of white broken loose from the fence where the cows stood chewing cud and watching us. Someone had rented an inflatable bouncy ball house. I have no idea why, but it added color and kept most of the kids out of the way and gave something for the teenagers to laugh about.
I didn’t know half the people who showed up at our wedding, and I was willing to bet three-fourths didn’t even live in town—they were there for the food, the cake, the laughter, the all-out weirdness of it all.
I didn’t mind. Tonight I’d have Morgan all to myself and we could exchange the private vows we’d written to each other. And kiss. Really kiss. Without worrying about it winding up on YouTube.
“I was thinking.” Morgan tossed thoughts, then plucked a balloon from the fence and bopped me on the head with it.
“What were you thinking?”
“We should try out the boat.”
The sailboat. Thirty feet long and built by Morgan’s hands. Okay, I helped. Some. When he let me. After telling me all the ways I was doing it wrong. With the inside finished out, it was now as cozy as any cabin. And was great for nights we wanted to stay out late and watch the stars, then only have to move a few yards to get to the bed.
Currently Morgan’s work of art sat in the backyard on a cradle to keep it off the ground. When the sun hit the portholes just right, the colored glass threw beautiful kaleidoscope patterns all over the ground. The boat belonged in a millionaire’s toy collection, not the backyard of two simple men, where it was the favorite sunning spot for one lazy yellow lab.
“I don’t think it would do much in Tom Greer’s pond.” I doubted Tom’s pond was even deep enough for it to float.
Morgan laughed, then he tilted his head. Fragments of light sparkled off the silver garland someone had edged the table where the wedding cake sat surrounded by other cakes. “What about the ocean?” He let go of the balloon in favor of chasing the sunlight glitter reflecting on my jacket. After a long moment, he stopped and raised his chin. “It would work in the ocean. That’s where most people put sailboats.”
“Yeah.” My heart hadn’t beat so hard since the first time he spoke or when I realized he’d somehow snuck back into his old self without me even realizing it. As if nothing happened and the world had gone right again. “Ocean’s a long way off from here.”
“I know.”
“You sure you want to try to go so far from home?”
“I built the boat, just like the house. So in a way, it’s home.” His shoulder jerked and his grip tightened. “I want to try, even if we don’t get very far, I’d still like to try.”
“Why?”
“Because it would make you happy.”
“I’m happy now.”
“Okay, happier.”
I started to argue, and he held up a finger. “Okay, fine. I would love for us to try a trip to the ocean, but if it’s too much, we’ll turn around and come home. Deal?”
To see Morgan on the beach, drenched in sunlight, skin golden brown, hair bleached white, it was nothing more than a fantasy I was pretty sure, but then, he did build a boat with no experience, no instructions, just intuition.
In much the same way he’d changed my life.
I leaned into him. “Just make sure you lather yourself head to toe in sunblock.”
“Why?”
“’Cause I don’t want your important parts to get burned.”
“I plan on wearing swim trunks.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.”
He grinned at me, and I kissed him again. A few ladies carrying casseroles passed by with forlorn looks on their faces.
“Don’t people usually bring food to funerals?”
Morgan snickered. “It is a funeral, for their fantasy fodder.”
I laughed and so did he. We started over to where Jessie and Aunt Jenny were making friends with the beer kegs when a trail of dust popped up on the distant road. Newman had insisted all the cars park at the far edge of the pasture. This one however, ignored the orange cones, continuing toward the crowd.
People turned and conversation hushed. The car stopped just beyond the rows of seating and the stage where Morgan and I had exchanged rings. Covered in a rich blue rug, you never would have known the platform had been built out of old pallets collected from the hardware store.
Orange dust settled on the sedan, taking away the gleam of a fresh wax job. The driver’s side door opened, and Jeff got out. He stood there surveying the crowd, picking at his suit, before sliding on his sunglasses.
Jenny, Jessie, and Berry walked over, plates in one hand, beer in the other, looking to do battle.
“Tell me that son-of-a-bitch ain’t gonna cause no problems,” Aunt Jenny said.
Mr. Newman joined us with a set of keys. “Here.” He held them out to me.
I took them, reluctantly. “Uh, what are those for?”
“Chipper shredder, all gassed up, haven’t fed the hogs yet.” I almost laughed, I mean, there was no way he could be serious, then Berry said, “Have to bury the car.”
Then there was Jessie’s reply. “I got the perfect spot.”
Morgan raised his eyebrows. I gave Mr. Newman back his keys. “I don’t think we’ll need those today.”
“Well, he better have one helluva good reason to be crashing your wedding,” Jenny said.
“I sent him an invitation.” All eyes turned on me. I shrugged. “I didn’t think he'd come.” Obviously I was wrong.
Jenny pointed a finger at me. “You and me, boy, we gonna have a talk after all this, just you, me, and Maybelle.” She walked away, everyone followed, but they didn’t go too far.
Morgan nudged me. “Don’t worry, when the beer wears off she won’t be so…”
“Scary?” Even with my back to Jenny, her glare all but burned holes through my skull.
“Yeah. And who’s Maybelle?”
“Her twelve gauge.”
I hoped to God she didn’t have it in the trunk of her car.
Jeff made it through the crowd. “Wow, this is…” He surveyed the mix of overalls and Sunday dress, the inflatable bouncy house, the tables, and tables of food, the cows, who had no problem staring back, and the lines of open smokers where hotdogs, hamburgers, and steaks disappeared as fast as they turned brown. “An interesting setup. Definitely a different kind of wedding.”
“Folks got a little excited about the idea of Durstrand issuing its first gay marriage license.”
“I would have thought the protestors would outweigh the partygoers.”
“Well, we did have two.”
“Three,” Morgan corrected.
“The Reverend Harvey, Chad Grizzle, and his dog.”
Jeff looked around.
I said, “They gave up as soon as the steaks hit the grill.” I pointed to Reverend Harvey standing by the fence talking with a group of older women, then Chad sitting under a tree by himself with his dog, who still had his cardboard sign tied around his ribs but had chewed half of it off.
“Still a lot of people. I didn’t think this many people lived in Durstrand.”
“I’m pretty sure only half are locals. But apparently when Mr. Newman fires up the grill, people come from all around.” I picked up a cup of punch off the table, sniffed it to make sure it was virg
in, then offered it to Jeff, he declined with a raise of his hand. “Promise, no alcohol.”
“I’m good, thanks, though.”
I drank it.
“So. How is everything?”
I couldn’t see his eyes, but I had a feeling he wasn’t referring to life in general. My suspicions were confirmed when Morgan said, “You know, if you’re worried about whether or not I’m okay, all you have to do is ask.”
Jeff dropped his chin, still smiling, although it was different. Relieved but at the same time sad. “Something tells me you’re still gonna be more than a handful.” But he said it in a good way. One that left you grinning 'cause you knew you’d gone and done right.
“Of course I am. But I’m worth it.”
“Humble, isn’t he,” Jeff said.
I shrugged. “No need to be humble when it’s the truth.” I drained the glass and dropped the empty into the garbage bag taped to the edge of the table.
Jeff shook his head while giving the place another look around. “You really went and did it.”
I held up my hand, flashing my ring finger. “Yeah.”
He nodded again, this time more to himself.
I slapped him on the arm. “C’mon, fresh load of burgers are about to come off the grill.”
Jeff tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “I can’t stay, I’m transporting someone to Marco Island.”
“Florida?”
“Yeah?”
“Why would you drive from Chicago to Florida?”
He laughed at the face I made. “I like to drive.” Then Jeff shrugged. “Besides, I had somewhere I wanted to stop along the way.”
I cleared my throat. “So what’s in Florida?”
“I told you I didn’t renew my lease. I just stuck around to see what Hines would get, then took a job in Miami.” Jeff stared at the movie screen, then took another quick look around. “Is this a drive-in theater?”
“Yup.”
“I know Durstrand is fifty years behind, but this is a little rural even for them.”
“Wasn’t built for the townspeople,” Morgan said. “It’s for the cows.”
“The cows?”
“They like to watch movies, makes them taste better.”
Jeff started to say something, but I shook my head. “I’ll explain later, when you have more time to talk.”
Morgan tossed thoughts in the direction of Jeff’s sedan. He tilted his head enough to flash his distant gaze. The sun glinting off the windshield did a better job of hiding the interior than the tinted windows.
“What happened to him?”
Jeff glanced back. “Who?”
“The man in the backseat?”
“Nothing that I know of.”
“Then why do you have him in your car?” In my experience, people didn’t wind up in an FBI agent’s car for no reason.
“He showed up at the office. Asked to speak with an agent.”
“You?”
“No, no. I was cleaning out my desk.”
“And?” I said.
“Nothing to tell. I overheard him asking how much a bus ticket would be to Florida, and since I was headed that way I offered him a ride.”
“On a whim, you just offered him a ride.”
“Sure, a twenty-something hour drive can get pretty lonely.”
“But you like to drive, remember?”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate company.” Jeff shrugged. “Might as well have gone alone, so far he has been much for conversation.”
“You don’t plan on driving all the way through?” If he’d come from Chicago, he’d been on the road for eleven hours already and had to be exhausted.
“I’ll get a hotel in the next town over. Since he didn’t have to buy a bus ticket, he should be able to cover his room.”
Morgan took a few steps closer, tilting his head one way then the next. “You should listen to him.”
“Like I said, he hasn’t spoken except to ask to stop to take a leak.”
Morgan lifted his chin. His gaze lingered around Jeff’s shoulder, but I think it was close enough to eye contact to get his attention because he took off his sunglasses.
“He didn’t tell the agent what he knows because he got scared,” Morgan said. “You need to hear what he knows.” He walked back over to me and pecked me on the cheek. “I’m going to see if there’s any peach bread left; Mrs. Hatchet has already stuffed two loaves into her purse.” With his lips against my ear, he added. “Jeff should try harder to get him to talk. He needs to let the guy know he can be trusted. They’ll be really good for each other.”
With that, Morgan wandered over to where Mrs. Hatchet was trying her best to fit another piece of napkin wrapped peach bread in her already bulging purse.
“Out of curiosity,” Jeff said. “How did Morgan even know there was anyone in the backseat?”
“Saw him?”
Jeff gave me a bored look. “Can you see anyone back there?”
Between the tinted glass, the glare, who could? “No. But then I can’t see a lot of things Morgan can.”
“He hear things too?”
“Only light.”
Jeff made a face. His gaze went from Morgan, to me, to Morgan. Then he put his shades back on and his eyes were hidden. “Thanks for the invitation. In spite of… well, you look happy.”
“That’s because I am.”
“And I’m really happy for you.”
“I know.” But he was hurting too.
Jeff stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a few steps back. “I better get going.”
“I find it hard to believe you drove all this way just to leave.”
He pulled a pale gray envelope from his jacket pocket. “You sent me the invitation.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t stay.”
He gave the festivities another looking over, as if maybe he might have missed something, or imagined it. The smile wore was sad. “No reason to.” Jeff opened the driver’s door.
“Hey,” I walked over. “About what Morgan said. You should take his advice.” Jeff chuckled and I put my hand on his arm. “Seriously, Jeff.” I lowered my voice. “If Morgan thinks whoever it is in the backseat of your car has a secret they need to get off their shoulders, then they do.”
“I know some people put stock in psychics…”
“Morgan isn’t psychic, he just sees things most people don’t or sees things in a way we don’t or can’t. He told me the guy needs someone to trust. He also said you two would be good for each other.”
Jeff rolled his eyes and pulled out of my grip. “I’m going. I’ll call you when I get settle to let you know how the beaches are.” He wouldn’t. I had a feeling Jeff had no plans to ever speak to me again. Not because he was angry, because he was afraid of bleeding to death.
It was a fear I understood and one I was glad I hadn’t let stop me from coming back to Durstrand.
He got in, but before he could shut the door, I caught a glimpse of his passenger. Dark olive skin, darker hair, eyes as turquois as the ocean water.
There was a scar on his upper lip, another under his chin.
And I’m sure if he’d taken off his shirt, there would have been more. Some burn marks, some cuts.
Rubio had been more worried about the sharks than the bullets when we dragged his son into the water. Bleeding and barely alive, he’d practically been a calling card for a feeding frenzy. He’d been the last of his surviving children we’d been able to track down. I never expected to find him alive in that Cuban hell hole, neither did Rubio. But we had. Only the last time I saw the boy, he’d been nothing but a breathing corpse.
Now there was life in his eyes and the spark of fight. I didn’t know whether to be relieved he hadn’t lost his soul to whatever happened to him, or terrified of why he’d left home.
Jeff backed out, turned around, and then headed back up the road.
My cell phone rang.
“Is he safe?” The sound of surf and seagulls
was loud enough to suggest Rubio stood directly on the beach.
“How long has he been gone?”
“Four days.”
“You should have called me sooner.”
“I knew where he was going.”
“And you let him?”
“Yes.”
“He went to the FBI.” And if he did start talking, it could come back on Rubio.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Lorado is dead.” There was no elation in Rubio’s words. Just the tone of a man stating the fact. A task needing to be completed, and now it was, all was well. If only it were so easy.
“If he said anything, they didn’t believe him.”
“I told him they wouldn’t, but he insisted on going.”
“Why?”
“Because he left friends behind, had friends die.”
“How did you know where he was?”
“I recognized the name of the agent they logged as taking him back to Florida.” I didn’t even want to know how he had access to the FBI database. Some things were best left unknown.
“Are you going to pick him up?”
“I have a boat waiting for him if he will get on it. I just needed to make sure he was safe with Agent Shaldon.”
“Yeah, he’s safe.”
“Good. That is all I needed to hear.”
“What if he tries to go back there?” To that place of misery, torture, and death. Where deranged men seemed to think twelve-year-old boys had valuable secrets that needed to be extracted.
“He is a grown man now, Grant. I cannot stop him from hunting the hunters.”
“Will you call me if you need help?”
A child laughed in the background. Water crashed against the sand. A rush of wind cut across the cell phone. More than ever, I hoped Morgan would one day get to see the water.
“No.”
How did I reply?
“You are happy, Grant. You are safe. Your battle is over. Live your life, be happy, love deeply. Good-bye, my friend.” He hung up.
I was still staring at my phone when Morgan walked over. His gaze met mine, and I stuffed my phone in my pocket. Nothing else mattered when I looked at him. Nothing at all.
“Who was that?”
“Rubio.”
In The Absence Of Light Page 40