Jill stood up. “Well, thank you for filling us in. I’ll do what I can.”
Her heart rushed. What a stupid platitude. What else did she have?. There was nothing superfluous in her life. Oh, maybe her bike and a few pieces of clothing. What good was that?
Rebecca picked up the tea glasses. “Help pray for the miracle. That’s the best thing.”
Jill smiled. “I will.” A miracle. Did she believe God could work in a big way? Did Morgan? She had no idea where he stood with God. Would he pray for—her breath caught suddenly. Morgan. Could he do more than pray?
They went out to the car, and by the stiff hand on her back, she gauged his still heightened tension. But Morgan didn’t speak as he pulled out of the driveway and started back the way they’d come. He could at least acknowledge that she had told the truth. That would give her the courage to broach the other subject. What was she thinking? She’d already braved the lion for Kelsey. She’d jump into his jaws if …
She drew herself up. “Morgan—”
“I’ll do what I can.” He didn’t look at her, just gripped the wheel and muttered, “Drywall.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer. He had already told her he would do whatever it took. He must be in a better position than the rest of them financially. He’d said as much on their drive over. She’d seen his toys. Her heart thumped with expectation. Maybe that was the real reason they’d made this drive, for Morgan to see his child’s picture, to hear for himself how great her need was. Maybe the Lord had put him at her door that morning to begin the miracle Kelsey’s friends prayed for.
Her spirit swelled with expectation. Oh, Jesus. All the pieces could come together according to the Lord’s perfect plan. She had to trust. She bit her lip as Morgan reached the highway and headed back toward Beauview. She wanted to pepper him with questions, wanted certainty that he could do what he’d tersely indicated. If he did, maybe after the transplant, when Kelsey was well, Morgan could meet his daughter.
Yes. The thought warmed inside her. She would help him see Kelsey. The day was bright; the air smelled of earth and tar and new leather, and for the first time since learning about Kelsey, the dark clouds inside her lifted. It was hard to believe she was riding beside Morgan. But it had to be part of the plan, the intricate details the Lord was weaving together.
He needed sleep. He’d spent thirteen hours on the road to Beauview, four hours round trip to fetch Marta. Add to that the time on the plane to Denver and the taxi drive to the ranch. He’d had no sleep and more caffeine than even he could handle. He was getting shaky, probably a blood sugar crash. Marta’s dinner last night was his last meal except for the few bites of Jill’s scone. He had to get back to her place, about half an hour, he guessed, from where they were now. He could make it that far. He shook off the hypnotic effect of the road.
“Are you all right?” Jill must have noticed the wide stretching of his eyes, that last shake of the head. He’d thought she was absorbed in the landscape.
“Yeah.” He switched hands on the wheel and chewed a flake of dry skin from the side of his lip, pulverizing it between his front teeth. He’d left Santa Barbara with one purpose in mind: to see Kelsey. He had tried to go through the doctors, but they told him the program required a year from the transplant date for unrelated donors, which he was considered to be, since he had no legal connection to his daughter. And they had confirmed what Jill had said—the Bensons believed it would stress Kelsey to meet him.
How would it stress her to know he cared? That elfish face in the portraits looked wiser than any of them. She might look like Jill, but he saw plenty of himself in her expression. She would handle it. It was their own position that her parents worried about. And well they should. Jill might have pawned her off, but he’d had no say in the matter. If it was legal connection they required …
Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t being vindictive. It just wasn’t right. None of this was right. That little girl deserved more than people dropping change into boxes with her picture. And the card in his pocket was one huge opportunity to make his point.
He pulled up in front of Jill’s townhouse, new enough, nicely landscaped, each unit with a garage. That was important for a woman living alone. He got out and walked around to her door, gratified that living single hadn’t made her too feminist to accept the courtesy his family had ingrained.
Jill climbed out, and he walked her to her front door, which she unlocked and pushed open.
When she hesitated, he said, “Mind if I come in awhile?”
She held the door wider. “You must be exhausted.”
“I could use a rest.” He yawned and followed her in, waiting while she slipped out of her sandals just inside the door and left them next to her Nikes. “Still running, eh?” And he eyed her legs, remembering them flying over the hurdles with speed and power.
She nodded.
“You excelled in that.” Especially the last run right out of his life.
That won her the gold medal. He settled onto the couch, every muscle crying for rest. He had one purpose in being there—Kelsey. Then he looked at Jill and stopped lying to himself. It wasn’t thoughts of Kelsey that had driven him all these years. Love and pain vied like twins inside him.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her.” She sounded sorry, and it was in her face.
“I will.”
She nodded. “Maybe after the transplant, if … if she has it.”
“She’ll have it.”
Relief and gratitude bloomed in her face. Didn’t she realize he would have done anything for them?
“Thank you, Morgan. I wish there was something I could do.”
He sat down on the couch. “Come home with me for the procedure. You can be my nurse while I’m laid up.” She didn’t believe him, he could tell. He wasn’t sure where it had come from himself “Wouldn’t you like to be part of it?”
She searched his face.
“I’ll be doped up and crippled. At least for a few days.” He stretched. “And Consuela is not the kind of woman I want rubbing my back.”
“Consuela?”
“My housekeeper.”
She crinkled her brow and looked away. “I can’t, Morgan.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t just pick up and leave. I have responsibilities….” She spiked her fingers into her hair. “I can’t.”
“Consuela lives there with her brother. There’s also my professional assistant, Denise. You wouldn’t be alone with me.”
She stood up and walked to the window, more distressed than he’d expected. “Why are you doing this?”
If she needed an answer to that …
She shook her head when he didn’t give her one.
Fine. He was certainly not going to beg. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Bone tired. Deeper than the muscles, it went to his marrow, which he would soon be depleting for a little girl he wasn’t even allowed to see. “Mind if I rest awhile?” He slipped off his loafers and stretched out on the couch. Getting prone felt great.
CHAPTER
17
Jill watched him sleep, his exhaustion apparent in the brief moment it took him to succumb. It must have been the exhaustion that prompted his invitation. Didn’t he realize how painful it would be to spend time together? Yet he was doing so much, everything she had wanted to do for Kelsey. Did she owe it to him?
She pressed her hands to her face. Lord, show me. I know you have a plan here, and I don’t want to get in your way. She’d spoiled his plans before. Show me clearly, Lord.
She left Morgan sleeping and went to get groceries. If he was awake at lunchtime, she’d make a crab salad. She was sure he’d be gone by supper but bought a flank steak to marinate just in case. New potatoes and scallions, canned corn for the recipe she made with cream cheese and green peppers, and fresh tomatoes from the vegetable stand ought to do it. One good meal to send him on his way. And she bought a can of coffee, even though she�
��d have to borrow Shelly’s coffeemaker.
“Jill, how are you?”
She turned. “Oh, hi, Anita. I’m fine.” She did not want to go into details with a mother of one of her students.
Anita caught her arm. “Are you? Pam indicated you had an emergency that made you step out for the summer.”
For the summer? How had taking one day off turned into the whole summer? Jill hoped the principal wasn’t behind that one, though she wouldn’t be surprised. She’d knocked heads more than once with Ed Fogarty, and he’d take any chance to rid himself of his number one headache. “It was just today. I had something come up.” Someone who now slept on her couch. And a sick child no one knew she had. Didn’t that warrant one day?
“I was worried after we talked.”
Jill’s mind jumped to the last time they’d talked, when she’d confused Anita with Shelly on the phone and snapped about Dan. “That was a difficult day.” She smiled. “You know what they’re like.”
She nodded. “Well, I’m praying for you.”
“Thanks.” Jill pushed her cart forward, and it hit her squarely that she needed to pray, too. Was something going on? Lord, give me wisdom. Guide and sustain me.
What did Anita mean, the whole summer? A misunderstanding. It had to be. But it would be just like Fogarty, who had resented her ever since their argument early in the year over the appropriateness of terminating defective life at birth. He not only disagreed with her contention that all life had value, he resented her believing it. She and Fogarty were fingernails on chalkboard.
Jill sighed. She paid for her groceries and went out to her car, steeling herself to go home. Morgan was still asleep when she went in, and Rascal had curled up at his feet. She hoped he wasn’t allergic to cats, since he wore no socks and Rascal had flopped against his bare ankles in happy abandon.
She stood for a moment, overwhelmed by the fact that Morgan Spencer was stretched out on her couch with her kitty at his feet. Not that Rascal was standoffish, but just the incredible unlikelihood of Morgan’s being there at all … She crept to the kitchen as he slept and put away the groceries as quietly as possible.
She had already straightened the kitchen, so she crept down the hall and cleaned the bathroom. The bedroom needed only a touch-up, though he would not set foot in it. At last she went back to the kitchen and put together a salad with chunks of imitation crab, butter lettuce, ranch-flavored sliced almonds, and wedges of tomato.
Should she wake him or eat by herself? She was hungry and needed fortification. She went over and touched his shoulder. “Would you like lunch, Morgan?”
Without opening his eyes, he muttered, “I’ll just sleep.”
She went to the counter and drizzled her portion with Greek dressing, putting aside his for later if he got hungry. She had no idea what his eating habits were. In high school they’d both been more conscientious than some, since their athletics demanded it. She recalled his eating frequently, but what teen boy didn’t?
She carried her plate to the nook and sat at the small wrought iron-and-glass table. The salad was tasty and fresh, but maybe it wouldn’t have satisfied a man’s appetite. Dan would wolf it down and scour the place for something he could sink his teeth into. She should have gotten meat or carbohydrates. But she’d shopped as she always did, whatever looked good at the moment.
And she’d been distracted by Anita’s comment. Maybe she should call in, see how the morning session had gone. No, that was paranoid. She had a right to take a personal day if she needed to. Of course, she had taken several others when she’d been so down before. But her attendance during the school year was exemplary. It was absurd to even be concerned.
And she wouldn’t be if there hadn’t also been the disciplinary action for “forcing religion” on the children, as though her kids could even understand. But she’d shared with Anita how prayer calmed Joey, and Anita had felt led to pass it on to Joey’s mother, Charline, who did not appreciate it.
That session with Fogarty had been especially unpleasant. His suggestion that she might do better in a Christian school, with parents who went for that, was rife with threat. Well, she hadn’t opened her mouth about prayer or faith or anything since. But he knew and collected every complaint from her team and those parents who were more willing to blame their child’s lack of success on her than any inborn limitations. Even some of the other teachers who didn’t appreciate her insistence that they integrate the kids as well as they could. In short, it was a hostile environment, and that accounted for the tension she felt now. That and Morgan Spencer’s presence.
While he slept she’d just run by the school and see how things were going. That should alleviate at least that factor. She gathered her purse quietly, slipped back into her sandals, and went out. The school wasn’t far, and she pulled into the lot, noting the cars parked there, Fogarty’s especially.
She went inside and started for the special ed room, but he called to her from his office. This was not good. Had her apprehension been founded? She joined him at his desk.
“I thought you were sick.”
“No. I had a personal situation I needed to handle.”
He nodded. “Have a seat.” His neck had that red turkey skin one expected on a farmer, not a school administrator. His eyes were limpid green under albinolike brows. He cut to the chase. “I’ve made my decision for next year. I’ve offered Pam the coordinator position.”
Jill stared at him. Though she was permanent to the district, the team leader and coordinator positions could be shifted by the board or administration each year—if warranted. Usually that depended on competence, but she’d done everything she could with her program, and a cold steam erupted inside. “What was the basis for your decision?”
“I feel you’re too confrontational with your team and the other teachers.”
Confrontational? “I fight for what the kids need.” And even then she was careful not to offend.
“In your opinion.”
Jill fought against the overwhelming impulse to shove his desk into the circular mound of belly that looked like a seven-month gestation. “I think I’ve handled the position with exemplary care and thought fulness toward all aspects of the situation.”
“I disagree.” He folded his white fingers. “I’ve had more complaints than I’ve addressed.”
“What more?”
He leaned forward. “Jill, I suggest you accept Pam’s leadership. She has a more global view of education.”
Jill swallowed hard. An understanding that matched Ed Fogarty’s. This could not be happening. What had she done but pour herself out for children who needed a champion? Pam did fine. Jill would give her that. But she would not make waves, not fight for their budget, not insist the kids be integrated wherever possible.
Was it sour grapes? Fogarty had made his decision, but if there were other complaints she’d know. She did not believe for one minute he hadn’t jumped on her for every one. No, he had given the position to Pam because she was an agnostic humanist with the politically correct opinion on everything.
“There’s another small matter. I’ve heard from several sources that your personal situation seems to be distracting you. We’ve hired a new teacher with a degree in severe and profound handicaps, and I’d like to integrate him before the school year begins. I think it would be a good thing for you to take some time this summer to deal with your situation, and give over your extended year caseload to Don.”
Jill stood up, stunned. Her legs had moved automatically. With her permanent status, Fogarty could not get rid of her directly, not without cause. But he could make her presence so pointless that she’d leave on her own. And that was exactly what he was doing. Yes, they needed another special ed teacher, but not one whose training rendered her irrelevant. He was counting on her quitting.
If it were one of the kids being wronged, she would fight, argue, plead. But she was too stunned just now for any of that. She turned and walked out, her mind scramblin
g. What was going on? This couldn’t be happening. Those kids were her life.
Stepping into the sunlight, she pressed her hands to her face. Was it possible she had let them down, not given her all? Yes, she’d been stressed, confused, depressed. But had that affected her performance? It must have if Pam had noticed. She’d said not one word to Pam about Kelsey or any of it. Jill drew a long, slow breath. This new man, Don, might be just what they needed. With an SLIC degree he must be compassionate, dedicated. But where did that leave her? In a daze, she drove home, parked in the garage, and went inside.
Morgan still slept on the couch. His head was cradled in his arm and his mouth hung slack. He was a man, asleep in her home, as out of place as a Picasso on her walls. But was it any stranger than everything else happening to her since learning of Kelsey’s illness? Her life was unraveling. Again.
Lord, please. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to fight. Then she thought of Kelsey and the fight her daughter faced. This was nothing compared to that. It was hard to press on, but she had to. For Kelsey’s sake. A thought shot into her mind. Was this all happening for a reason? Had God just freed her for her real purpose? That thought brought grim comfort. She hadn’t meant to lose her job when she asked the Lord to show her clearly.
But was that exactly what this was? Maybe she could go with Morgan, be a part of the process. Maybe this was God’s hand, not Ed Fogarty’s. Though he liked to play God, Fogarty was nothing but a pawn in the bigger picture, whether he knew it or not. Jill’s heart thumped erratically. She should be devastated, terrified to be losing the underpinning of her existence—not to mention the impact on her finances.
Yet relief trickled in and watered her soul. She looked at Morgan. She could stand it. They could be civil; their drive today had proved that. Maybe this was the nudge from the Lord she needed. A sharp pang stung when she thought of her kids. How would they respond to a new teacher? They would ask for her. What would they be told?
But if this was God’s will, shouldn’t she trust even that to Him? She pressed her hands to her face. Lord?
The Still of Night Page 21