The Still of Night

by Kristen Heitzmann

  Jesus loves you and so do I!

  Kelsey

  Tears streamed as she sat and held the letter, reading it again and again. The trick is to want the way they work out. God’s will. To want it. Want it. Jill swallowed. Lord … She couldn’t form the words, but her intent was there. Help me to want your will. And then she voiced it.

  She took the painting of Morgan from the envelope and stared at his face. Noelle had captured him so well. She hoped wherever he was he could find that smile again. But what should she do with his letter? She turned it over and found the sticky note. Jill, please give this to Morgan personally. Well, that changed things. No stamp and quick delivery to his P.O. box.

  She picked up the phone and was told again his cell was out of service. Consuela answered the home phone, but the message was no help. “Señor Morgan is not home. No, I can’t say where he is. I’m sorry.”

  Frustrated, Jill called his parents. Someone had to know where he was, and she had to find out, if she was going to fulfill her daughter’s last request. Morgan might not want her to know his whereabouts, but … no answer, no recording. She found Rick’s number through information, but there was no answer there, either. Had Morgan’s whole family disappeared?

  She set the letter aside, determined to try again every day if she had to. After six days, she reached Celia and was almost too flustered by an actual response to speak coherently. “I need to find Morgan. I have a letter for him from his daughter, but Kelsey wanted me to give it to him in person.”

  Celia was silent a long while. Then she spoke frankly. “You’ll have to wait.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Morgan is not able to see you.”

  Jill swallowed the swelling in her throat. “Won’t he want Kelsey’s letter?”

  Again Celia was quiet. Then she said simply, “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “Morgan needs time to heal. Please give him that.”

  Jill hung up. They would all need time to heal. She looked at the letter she held. Maybe it wouldn’t help, would only make it harder for him. She couldn’t believe Kelsey’s words would be anything but wonderful, and yet if he wasn’t ready …

  She pressed the envelope to her heart, willing and almost grateful to hold Kelsey’s missive awhile longer. Though she didn’t know the words inside, she guessed the message. When Morgan was ready …

  CHAPTER

  37

  Noelle stepped out the door and into the glory of new green aspens and dark pines that climbed the crag, crisp blue sky, appreciating the scent of sage and the stable smells of horse manure, hay, and leather. She breathed it in, then turned her attention to the porch of the nearest cabin.

  Morgan sat on the stoop, one hand outstretched to steady little William Henry Spencer. She had wanted to name the baby for Rick, but he honored both granddads instead. The toddler took a dive into Morgan’s lap and he laughed, huddling over the gurgling boy, then lifting him to one knee.

  She strolled toward them, her finger marking the page in the magazine she carried. Morgan glanced up with the distant, sifted look she was growing accustomed to. He smiled. “This boy is half wiggleworm.”

  William bent himself out of Morgan’s lap and all but tumbled off the stoop. He pushed his bottom to the air, then rose back to his feet and hurtled toward her. She scooped him into her arms, the magazine flapping against his back. Little Will had Rick’s walnut eyes and fine golden curls, a beautiful baby and precocious.

  She settled onto the stoop beside Morgan, and immediately Will wiggled out of her arms and toddled off to examine something in the gravel. He had walked early as all Spencers did, she’d been informed, and was now one week shy of nine months. He toddled back and patted Morgan’s knee with both palms, just to tease since he had every intention of escaping the moment Morgan caught him.

  Morgan got him by the finger and Will tugged, then plopped down on his diapered-and-blue-jeaned bottom when the finger slipped free. “Let that teach you.” Morgan grinned, then turned to Noelle. “Hi.”

  “I have something to show you.” She opened the magazine across her knees and Morgan’s face smiled out. It was actually the cover of his book at a slight angle across the glossy page. The caption read:Money Magic by the Success Guru a NY Times Bestseller, but has the turnaround magician done a vanishing act?

  Morgan’s mouth pulled sideways in a half smile. He glanced over the article that followed, which she had already read.

  “Climbed to number two, huh? Can’t seem to fail if I try.”

  “It’s because they put your picture on the cover.”

  “It’s because people want a magic purse that fills itself with gold.”

  She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Sounds like your next book.Money Magic for Kids.” When they had brought Morgan back to the ranch to recover, he’d surprised them all by accepting an offer from a publisher who’d been pursuing him for a year. Morgan worked maniacally, pouring out his knowledge, hypotheses, and savvy with a humorously irreverent tone, along with a few kicks at certain highbrow consultants who preferred to keep people mystified.

  He told her he had written the book in his head during the weeks of convalescence in the hospital, a repository of his professional knowledge, which read, to Noelle, like a collection of anecdotes. She could see Morgan clearly through it all, and his verbiage was accessible and honest, but all the knowledge on the pages didn’t account for Morgan’s ability. That was something inside him that theories and experience couldn’t match.

  Nonetheless, he had completed the manuscript in three weeks. The publisher had pushed production through, and the book hit the stores two months ago, soaring to number four on the bestseller list, then climbing steadily. The New York house was ecstatic, but their expectation of speaking tours and book events had evaporated when Morgan refused to leave the ranch and in fact remained completely isolated from all but his close family. Now it seemed they had decided to capitalize on that with such phrases as “elusive mogul,” “mysterious departure,” and her favorite: “vaporous wizard.”

  She looked at him now, solid and real, yet the term did not seem too farfetched. It was as though he had transferred his old self to the pages of his book, then stepped away. It was almost a year since Kelsey had died and he had nearly followed her to the grave. She had not asked him if the accident was intentional, but she wondered. His injuries were healed, the scars of surgery fading, she knew, from the times he worked shirtless with Rick. Yet he was changed.

  He had not taken a drink nor spent his nights at the Roaring Boar. He had no car with him at the ranch, yet he’d rarely voiced frustration or boredom. The quiet he once avoided seemed his solace now. The biggest surprise had been that he went with them to church without arguments or even his cynical amusement. From Rick’s library he read C.S. Lewis’s The Problem of Pain and Augustine’s Confessions and the Bible Rick ordered for him. Yet for all that he seemed … fragile.

  He handed her back the magazine and lifted Will to his chest. The baby tucked his head against Morgan’s neck and stuffed his thumb into his mouth, sucking it in the pre-nap mode Noelle recognized so well. More times than not her son went to sleep against the chest of his daddy or his uncle. Morgan rocked him gently now, one hand cupped behind the baby’s neck.

  A pang tugged her heart, recalling the anguish he had tried to hide when she and Rick brought Will home. But instead of shrinking from it, he had spent every chance he got holding and nurturing her son.

  As much as she loved his connection, it was time for him to look ahead.

  “What are you going to do, Morgan?”

  Once he would have given her a flippant answer. Now he just stared across the yard and said, “I don’t know.”

  “You need another project.”

  He smiled. “Denise has threatened to quit if I keep paying her to do nothing.”

  “It’s hardly nothing to fend off the offers and requests of everyone who wants something from y
ou.”

  He nodded, pressing his cheek to little Will’s head. The baby’s eyes were doing the slow blink. Morgan was such a part of Will’s life, how would it be if he actually did go back to California and took up his previous whirlwind existence? He had lost a lot of money to Kelsey’s expenses and more in canceled contracts afterward. He had sold assets rather than taken new contracts, though now the book had taken off.

  It wasn’t really work Morgan needed. It was some deep healing that had not come through the accident nor his subsequent return to faith. She didn’t think it was an act. He appeared truly reverent, yet also … chastened. His old fire was banked, and while he reached out and helped in more ways than she could count, financially, physically, and emotionally, his need never diminished.

  “Do you think about Kelsey still?” He swallowed. “Not as much.”

  “Jill?”

  “No.” He looked away, and Noelle’s spirit stirred. Why would he lie?

  With one finger, she stroked her baby’s velvety cheek. “I should put him in his bed. Too many more naps on your chest and he’ll never learn to sleep lying down.”

  Morgan eased the baby into her arms and she stood up. The magazine pages fluttered in the breeze. She went inside, up the stairs, past her studio to the golden-hued room decorated in chubby bears and pine trees and laid him in the crib Rick had designed and built.

  “You’re a blessed little baby, Will.”

  He scooched his bottom up and kept sucking. She pressed a kiss to her fingers and touched it to his cheek, then went downstairs to the kitchen. How could she find the address? Maybe Celia?

  Jill stopped still at the table in the bookstore. She didn’t usually peruse that section, but in passing by, she could not miss the dynamic display of books bearing Morgan’s face. He’d written a book? And not only that, a bestseller? Naturally.

  Her heart thumped within her chest as she picked it up, staring into the eyes that had last looked so shattered. This smile was confident and wry and a little droll. Probably his business persona. If the picture was new, the last ten months had been good to him.

  A woman stopped beside her. “I’d buy that just to have him on my coffee table. Mmm-mmm.”

  Jill smiled, but inside the ache opened up. What had she expected? Letters, flowers, cards for her birthday? But not one word. And each time she checked, Consuela, Denise, and Celia continued to insist they were not at liberty to give his whereabouts, nor did he wish to receive messages. It couldn’t be clearer.

  Jill set the book down. On her table it would bring nothing but pain. She passed on in the direction she had intended and found what she needed for school. Amazing how that had worked out—Pam not only resigning the directorship but quitting altogether. Jill refused to listen to the gossip of a failed relationship between Pam and Ed Fogarty. Given that he was married, it would not be fair to make any assumptions, though others had no qualms. She knew what it was like to be castigated for poor choices and would have reached out to Pam if she’d had the chance.

  As it was, her days were full again with her kids and their troubles. Don Daley was a good partner, and together with the paraprofessional aides, they had the program rolling well. If people looked at her differently now that they knew about Kelsey, she didn’t care. She was just as glad it was out in the open. And her witness was not diminished, because now her faith had been refined. She’d passed through the fire.

  She was sorry for Mom and Dad’s humiliation. But the worst of that was for their having lied about it in the first place. Their church friends were hurt that they’d been misled and not trusted with the truth. Jill only hoped someday they’d realize what really mattered.

  She paid for the books and went home, collected her mail from the mailbox, and with the book bag dangling from her wrist, perused the envelopes. The return address on one personal letter caught her short. Juniper Falls, Colorado. She hurried inside, deposited the rest on the table, and tore that letter open. Rascal came and rubbed her legs as she slipped the paper out and unfolded it.

  Dear Jill,

  I don’t know if you remember, but we met briefly a year ago last June when you came to tell Morgan about Kelsey.

  Jill glanced down at the signature and confirmed her guess.

  I’m so sorry for your loss. I know it must be terrible by what I’ve seen in Morgan these past months that he’s been with us. He is healing from the accident, but there are wounds deeper than those which threatened his life.

  Accident? What accident had threatened his life? Jill frowned at the page.

  I see those scars healing, but he is changed. Some are changes for the better. He has found his faith, though it is a quiet and, I think, painful return. He no longer drinks nor spends long nights in town. Though he smiles and laughs and is wonderful with my small son, there is something raw beneath it. He is too quiet, and I’m afraid his spirit has been crushed.

  I’m not sure what I hope for by writing to you, but I believe I am led to do it. Morgan knows nothing about this letter. He has shut himself away up here as I once tried to do, but I hope to help him as he helped me. I believe he loves and misses you very much.

  Sincerely,

  Noelle

  Jill held the letter, and everything in her stilled. First the book, then this. Both in the same day. But what on earth was she to do with it? Her eyes darted to the phone on the wall, but she had tried that avenue before. I’m afraid his spirit has been crushed. It never occurred to her that he had left like that because the pain was too great. Only that he didn’t want to be with her, to grieve with her, to heal with her. And now he wasn’t healing.

  He had looked on top of the world on his book cover. But that was not what Noelle described. He has shut himself away. And everyone guarded him zealously as her attempts to reach him attested. Oh, Morgan. Even when you’re wrong they love you. He was wrong to close everyone out and lock himself away. Did he think it was his fault Kelsey died? Hadn’t he apologized as they stood outside her window and the curtains were drawn?

  She should have seen it then. But her own grief blinded her. And she’d spent this year putting her life back together and trying not to think or wonder about him. She closed her eyes and sighed. Lord. But hadn’t her focus been to want the Lord’s will? Hadn’t she prayed repeatedly for wholehearted acceptance? Jesus should have let her know if there was something more for her to do.

  Or was He? Her heart skipped a beat. Kelsey had asked her to help Morgan know the Lord’s love. If he knew it, his spirit could not be crushed. She pressed the letter to her heart. Lord, show me what to do.

  Morgan reached down and lifted little Will out of the rut beside his cabin. “You don’t want to go that way little guy.” He set him back on solid ground, but the baby immediately toddled back to the rut, lost his balance and sat hard on his bottom. Will turned up a pouty face looking for sympathy, but Morgan laughed. “I warned you.”

  He scoobed up the baby and dusted the dirt from his pants. Little Will automatically tucked his head into Morgan’s neck, knowing he was due a hug. Morgan complied, glancing up at Rick. “We’ve created a monster.”

  Rick smiled and took his son. “He knows we can’t resist him.” He swung Will onto his shoulders, producing a gleeful baby gurgle. With Will patting his head, Rick strode off across the yard. He and Noelle had created something incredible. Morgan watched father and son and knew he had to stop waiting for doom to fall.

  It had been almost a year now. Though there was a permanent pin in his collarbone, the rest of the injuries were healed, and he had no excuse to keep on at Rick’s ranch. He had a house and business in Santa Barbara, people depending on him. He ought to kick himself back to work and practice the magic he’d preached. He leaned a shoulder to the porch post and considered leaving.

  It was past time. The seasons had nearly run their course. Noelle was strong and happy, Rick as confident and steady as always. Marta would spend another summer with them to cook up her magic, then go back
to her grandkids. Todd had come up for spring break and actually learned to ride. Morgan smiled at the memory of the kid’s first time astride—not too different from his first time in the waves. But Rick had been patient and determined, and Todd had not only survived but enjoyed it, gaining a measure of proficiency by the time he went back to Stan.

  Morgan breathed the mountain air and actually missed the scent of salt and seaweed, citrus and flowers—not for the first time, but this time the strongest. He wanted the sound of the waves through his window while he slept. Maybe there he’d actually sleep. He would miss little Will. No help for that. But he would come see him. No way he’d let that baby forget his Uncle Morgan.

  But he had never intended this hiatus to be so prolonged. Writing the book had cleared his mind for other information, knowledge of things beyond commercial problems and solutions. Interesting how many of those concepts he had already incorporated into his life before he knew why, before he stopped resisting the purpose behind everything. With the early June sunshine bringing life to the mountain, he could no longer ignore the purpose in his own life. Yet the thought of returning to everything the way it had been before …

  He turned at the sound of tires as a car pulled into the yard. His heart hammered when Jill stepped out, looking first at the big house, then catching sight of him. Her hair was still short, with soft flutters about her face, as she closed the door and walked toward him.

  The clamor of his heart awakened the ghost of injuries he all but ignored these days. Or maybe this particular ache would never really

  pass. Here she was crashing in once again to his sanctuary. A lucky guess? Actually more people knew where to find him than the magazine article let on. His parents, every one of his noisy sisters, Rick and Noelle, Denise and Consuela, though he hadn’t thought they would tell. It wasn’t that he was hiding from Jill. He just had hoped she could put all of it behind her. A hope that at this moment seemed ludicrous and destructive.