Morgan's Marriage

by Lindsay McKenna

  The feeling exploded through him, flooding him with a wonderful sensation. Yes, he loved her. When had it happened? Morgan couldn’t honestly pinpoint a day or an hour when his feelings had shifted from care to love. Excitement thrummed through him. It didn’t matter now whether he recalled their past love, because it had somehow been transferred from his past into his present. It had just happened.

  Gratefully, he closed his eyes, resting his hands on his thighs as he savored his discovery. Up until this moment, he’d been careful not to say the word love to Laura. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her or raise false hopes. Now Morgan realized he could honestly get up, leave this room and go tell Laura, to her face, that he loved her.

  The corners of his mouth tipped upward as he savored that forthcoming duty. What would she do? Would her deep blue eyes sparkle with those flecks of gold? She had such a soft mouth. He would watch the joy shimmer through her and absorb the beauty of her tremulous smile. With this latest revelation, they were freed from the past. Laura had told him she loved him, but he hadn’t reciprocated. Now he could!

  Eagerly, Morgan got to his feet. He didn’t hear Laura stirring in the cabin, but that wasn’t unusual. She would often wake up before him, take her bath, dress and go for a walk, then come back and make breakfast for them. By that time, he’d be up, showered, shaved and ready to start his day—with her. Hope tunneled through him as he retrieved some clean clothes from the drawer and padded through the warm living room to the bathroom. Stopping, he poked his head into the kitchen. Laura wasn’t there, but he smelled the coffee she’d made earlier, and it made his mouth water. First, he’d shower and dress.

  Glancing at his watch after he’d showered and shaved, Morgan saw it was nearly nine o’clock. Today he’d chosen a dark blue chamois shirt, fresh jeans and his usual hiking boots. Glancing in the mirror, still ringed with humidity from his shower, he quickly combed his short, black hair into place. A smile tugged at his mouth as he studied himself. What an ugly-looking bastard he was, with that scar running the length of one side of his face. Yet Laura loved him. Unequivocally. Forever. The feeling in his heart, that newly pulsing warmth, hadn’t stopped since he’d realized his love for her. If anything, it was even stronger now, more anticipatory, because Morgan wanted so badly to share it with her.

  After last night’s fiasco, when he’d wounded her by his ignorant, selfish actions, Morgan wanted to make her happy, to take away the terror he’d seen in her eyes and replace it with wonder. Humming to himself, he stepped out of the bathroom, his boots echoing down the short hall. He halted in the living room doorway. The radio wasn’t on. They picked up a great FM station out of Prescott, which Laura usually turned on when she returned from her walk. The living room remained quiet.

  Morgan scowled, feeling uneasy without knowing why. Maybe Laura was back in the bedroom, lying down, still shattered by last night’s experience. Worry began to edge into the joy thrumming through him as he walked back to their bedroom. His hands resting against the doorframe, Morgan looked around the room. It was empty. Laura had to be in the kitchen, though he didn’t pick up the normal sounds of her making breakfast. Shoving away his growing anxiety, he walked into the kitchen.

  A glance told him it, too, was empty. His gaze swept the small area, catching something out of place on the table. A piece of paper was propped up between the salt and pepper shakers. His anxiety heightened savagely as he walked over to the table. Reaching for the paper, he saw Laura’s flowery handwriting and gave the note his full attention.

  My Darling Morgan,

  I don’t know how to begin or end this letter. It’s so painful to write. Anymore, I don’t seem to know what I’m doing. I used to think I knew right from wrong, day from night, black from white, but I don’t. Darling, please forgive me for what I’ve done. Last night I felt something so intrinsic within me break that I feel disconnected. Perhaps I’ve gone insane. I truly don’t know.

  When you awoke out of your Vietnam nightmare, I knew that more of your past had come back. No one could be happier than I was when you took me in your arms and started to make love to me. I couldn’t believe it was happening, because in the past, we often made love after you came out of those nightmares. For you, it was a way to prove you were alive, and I understood that and wanted you to love me.

  But suddenly, last night, I didn’t want you loving me. I couldn’t stand the thought of being touched—even by you. Images of being raped flashed before me, and I couldn’t make them go away. I couldn’t concentrate enough on the fact that it was you loving me. Oh, Morgan, I’m so sorry. I feel so horrible, so out of control. I left my body at some point—was completely disconnected from you—and that’s never happened before. I felt violated. I knew you weren’t my rapist, yet my body and emotions responded as if you were.

  I can’t go on this way, Morgan. God knows, you don’t deserve it. Right now, I can’t stand the agony. I thought I knew what hurt was, but I didn’t. I thought I was in pain during my captivity with Garcia, or after I was rescued and we tried to find Jason. Then I thought getting our son back would ease the pain, but it didn’t. It just multiplied because I didn’t know if you were alive. But the children kept me going. They needed a parent, and I clung to that fact.

  When Perseus found you, I went through the pain of waiting. I lived moment to moment, more uncertain than ever before. How badly I wanted what we had to come back! And what if you were dead? When Culver and Pilar rescued you, and we received the call that you were alive, I felt a joy that made me faint for a moment. And I thought that finally the pain would leave. But when Ann told me that you had suffered damage to your memory, the pain was worse than ever.

  These past few weeks with you at the cabin have been heaven and hell for me, Morgan. I’ve tried so hard to do the right thing, say the right thing, but little by little, whatever strength I had has slowly oozed out of me. Last night broke me. I realized then that nothing I did or didn’t do was going to help you. Morgan, I’m not the Laura you knew and can’t remember. I’m broken inside. I don’t know who I am any longer. I can’t look to you for help because you’re struggling so hard to heal yourself. You don’t need me around, causing you pain. Right now, I feel crazed. The hurt is so horrible that I feel insane with it.

  I’ve decided to leave. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I believe I’m doing it for the right reasons—or at least I think I am. I’m not really sure about much these days. It’s a relief to me that you don’t remember our past, because I’ve changed so much since my kidnapping and rapes. You need a warm, loving, giving woman to help you through your trauma, and I no longer have the strength to be that for you. If I stayed, Morgan, I’d become an albatross around your neck—just another responsibility and liability to carry while you’re trying to heal. I love you too much to do that to you.

  Worse, I never told you the full truth about the rapes. I was afraid to tell you that the doctor examined me and told me I could never have another child; the damage done to me was too great. For me, that was the ultimate sentence, Morgan. I love children so much, and we had wanted at least four. Before the kidnapping, we were planning our third baby. We even had names picked out. I’d be useless to you in that way—frigid and sterile. What man in his right mind wants a woman like me around?

  It’s early in the morning, and I’m leaving. Please ask Susannah to continue to take care of Jason and Katherine. I cried so much at the thought of never seeing them again. But I know my decision is for the best. I don’t want our children ever to know the hell inside me. I’m afraid I’d lose control, and I don’t want to hurt them or you. None of you deserve this. Please don’t try to find me, Morgan. Let me go. I hope that my leaving will ultimately help everyone.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do or where I’ll go. Please forgive me, Morgan. I don’t know what else to do. I love you. I love Jason and Katherine. I pray that someday your memory will return and you’ll love them as much as you did before. You were a wonderful f
ather to them, and I know you can be again.

  Goodbye…

  Love, Laura

  “Son of a bitch!” Violently, Morgan spun on his heel. The paper fluttered to the table as he reached for the phone on the wall, his heart pounding with unrivaled pain. The joy he’d felt was destroyed, in its place raw, primal agony. No! Laura didn’t know what she was doing! He grabbed the phone, his hand shaking as he dialed the ranch.

  “Rachel? This is Morgan. Let me talk to Ann. It’s an emergency.”

  The next few minutes were an unfolding nightmare as he stood tensely in the kitchen, telling Ann about the letter Laura had left.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded tightly.

  “She’s had a temporary break from reality,” Ann said worriedly. “I was afraid something like this might happen. Laura’s therapist said she wasn’t getting anywhere with her, that Laura had gone into deep denial over the rapes. It’s typical of her to push her own problems and feelings aside in favor of her family’s needs. She hasn’t been taking care of herself first, Morgan, and this is the result. It’s a highly co-dependent response, and Laura isn’t the only woman who has that problem, believe me.”

  His hand tightened on the phone receiver until his knuckles whitened. “Is she going to kill herself?”

  “It doesn’t sound like it—at least, not yet. Right now she’s trying to run away from the pain. Later, when she discovers she can’t outrun it, is when the suicidal impulse could set in.”

  “Dammit!” he rasped. “Why didn’t I realize all this? Why didn’t I—”

  “Morgan, you’re both hurting. It’s especially hard when both parties are at a survival level and trying to put the pieces of their lives back together. It’s impossible for either of you be there fully for your partner. My hunch is that Laura tried to do that, to be everything for you, and in doing so, she used up the extra hope, love and energy she needed for her own recovery. She was on the edge, anyway. That’s why I kept coming by to check on you two—I was more concerned about her than you.”

  “I was stable because she was feeding me with her attention, love and care,” he growled angrily. Why the hell hadn’t he realized that? In effect, Laura had been transfusing him with her lifeblood: he grew stronger, she was slowly dying right before his eyes—and he hadn’t seen it. He knotted his fist, agony exploding through his chest. He heard Ann’s voice—and tried to focus on what she was saying.

  “Got to find her. Do you have any idea where she might have gone? Did she have a favorite place here?”

  “I—I don’t know,” he answered, looking around the kitchen. “Her coat is gone. She has a couple hundred bucks. That’s enough to get to a bus and head for God knows where.”

  “Sedona’s the closest town,” Ann said. “Still, she has to walk out of this place, Morgan. Let me get Mike on the radio. We need to start a search. I’ll call the sheriff. They can begin looking for hitchhikers along Route 89, which heads into Sedona and Flagstaff.”

  Suddenly, an idea struck him. “Wait!” he exclaimed. “I think I know where she might have gone. It would be one way of getting off the ranch and to the highway.” Quickly telling Ann his idea, he hung up the phone and ran through the cabin. He jerked the door open and began racing along the creek.

  The morning was cool and his breath came in white explosions as he paralleled the stream, dodging the rocks and boulders that seemed determined to slow his progress. Breathing harshly, his heart pounding, he tried to calm down and think clearly. Two days ago, it had rained. The soil here was clay, still damp and impressionable. He stopped momentarily and looked around at the muddy ground, trying to control his agony and fear for Laura. She didn’t wear hiking boots, which would have left deep impressions in the soil. No, even though she had boots, she favored an old pair of plain leather oxfords that she’d laughingly told him were more comfortable—“like old friends.”

  Morgan stopped and rubbed his brow. The shoes were specially made, with an emblem carved into the sole though they had no tread to speak of. Breathing hard, he shut his eyes and brought that symbol forward. All he could remember was that it was circular. Opening his eyes, he crouched down. Everywhere Morgan looked, he saw the hoofprints of cattle that roamed along the creek in search of grass and water. He could find no evidence of Laura’s shoe print, but perhaps she had taken a diagonal route instead of the path they’d trod previously.

  The sun beating down was making Morgan sweat as he checked his watch. It was eleven o’clock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked around the scenic area. The red and white cliffs with their black lava caps rose thousands of feet around him, the dark trees standing out against them in brilliant splash of greens. The sky, a deep blue, reminded him of Laura’s wide, innocent eyes.

  Morgan began to run again, feeling his own strength diminishing with each stride. He knew with a gut feeling where Laura had gone: to that pool. Vividly, he remembered showing her on a map, after they’d returned from their picnic, that the deer path that wound up the cliff on the far side of the pool eventually led to Route 89A. She must have taken it.

  Praying he was right, Morgan pushed himself as never before. He had everything to lose; his weakening body had to respond! He loved Laura. He wanted her back. She had to know that! As he ran, his arms pumping, Morgan stumbled on some loose rocks and felt tears streaming down his cheeks. My God, he couldn’t lose Laura now. Not after all they’d endured together! A scream began to uncurl deep in his gut, a scream of fury at the turn of events that had been thrown at them. Nothing mattered anymore to Morgan. Nothing but Laura, and getting her back, safe and sound, in his arms.

  His heart felt as if it were going to burst in his chest as he ran, drunkenly now, toward the pool. Breathing raggedly in gasps, he stumbled to a halt, anxiously looking around. He’d run three miles, and he was trembling with exhaustion. His lower legs cramped, the pain floating up to his awareness, but not stopping him. As he stood rigidly on the bank, anxiously looking around the pool, he choked.

  His eyes narrowed and his heart slammed hard into his ribs. There, across the pool, halfway up the steepest part of the deer trail, lay Laura, apparently unconscious. In those split seconds, a tremendous amount of the past flashed back to Morgan, overwhelming him. His cry echoed through the area. Plunging into the cold, icy water, he lunged forward, his hands stretched toward her. Laura lay unmoving, like a broken rag doll, half on the trail, the rest of her body hidden in the thick, green manzanita bushes that lined it.

  Morgan never felt the water’s icy temperature. He lunged roughly through the sometimes waist-deep pool to reach the other side, his cry of pure terror echoing and re-echoing around him. As he thrashed the pool, memories of Laura avalanched through him. Pictures and fragments of the past—how they’d met, fallen in love—overwhelmed his panicked senses. As he reached the other side, he stumbled, falling to his hands and knees. He crawled out of the water as the memories of their children sheared back upon him.

  As he staggered to his feet, the water rushing down his pant legs and squishing in his hiking boots, Morgan vividly recalled the agonizing hours when Laura had nearly died in labor with Jason. She’d hemorrhaged unexpectedly after the birth. Morgan had been there, had gone into shock as all hell broke loose in the delivery room. He’d stood with a newly blanketed Jason in his hands, watching Laura’s face go waxen within moments, due to the heavy loss of blood.

  Oh, God, that’s how she looked to him now! She was a quarter of a mile up the narrow, steep trail, unmoving. Even as he scrambled, clawing at anything he could get his hands on to reach her faster, Morgan thought she was dead.

  Another vignette sheared through him, leaving him sobbing. Morgan remembered how anxious and worried he’d been while Laura carried Katherine. How many nightmares he’d had about her dying during the delivery of their second child. Worse, Laura had gone into premature labor with her. Morgan remembered the pain of thinking he might lose them as he’d paced the hospital’s
visitor area. Laura had refused a cesarean, though her doctor wanted to perform the operation to keep Laura safe from the possibility of hemorrhaging again. This time they might not be so lucky. This time she could die.

  Morgan gasped. Only a few yards to go! Memories overlapped the present, and he remembered Dr. Jane Holly smiling triumphantly as she came out of the delivery room. Little Katherine Alyssa was fine, despite being a month early. Even better, this second birthing process had gone without a hitch, and Laura was not only fine, but asking for him.

  Oh! Morgan recalled how he’d run to that delivery room and seen his baby daughter resting on Laura’s belly. He remembered Laura’s eyes filled with tears of joy as he leaned down to slide his arm beneath her and hold her. They’d cried together—he out of relief that she was alive, and she because Katherine was so perfect and beautiful.

  Morgan shook his head, forcing away the wave of memories. He could see now that several rocks had evidently loosened as Laura had tried to scramble up the trail. She had slipped in her smooth-bottomed shoes. As he climbed to where she lay, his gaze riveted on her. Was she dead? She couldn’t be! What a horrible way to end such a beautiful, wonderful life. He loved her so much that it hurt him to breathe in that moment.

  As he fell to his knees beside Laura and reached out with a shaking hand, Morgan knew she was dead. Her skin was waxen, with a grayish cast. Her lips were parted, her arms hanging lifelessly, her legs tangled in the red branches of the thick manzanita that had stopped her plunge to the bottom of the cliff.

  As Morgan felt for a pulse, he sobbed in grief. He would do anything—anything—to have Laura alive!

  Chapter 12

  “I love you, Laura. Do you hear me? I love you….”

  Groggily, Laura opened her eyes. Morgan’s tense face hovered close to hers, and she felt the strength and warmth of his body surrounding her, supporting her. What had happened? Almost as soon as she asked the question, the information filtered through her shorted-out senses. Her head aching abominably, she struggled to sit up. Morgan eased her upward, using his body to support her back, his arm around her shoulders.