The Still of Night

by Kristen Heitzmann

  How could he have thought it was the answer? As she came close, he breathed her fresh apple scent and noticed a bruise on her cheek.

  Without thinking, he raised his hand and touched it with his thumb.

  “What happened?”

  “Restraining Joey. He got me with his head.”

  So she was back to school and functioning in her position. It must all have worked out. “Thought maybe someone had tackled you.”

  “I play tag football.”

  He smiled, wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her. “What are you doing here?” Besides charging his heart and flooding his mind with thoughts and memories.

  “I brought you something.” She held out an envelope. “I would have gotten it to you sooner, but you made that difficult by not taking my calls or messages.”

  He wished now that he had. Even though it hurt like crazy to see her, he drank it in as a drowning man sucks water into his lungs. He tore his eyes from her face and took the envelope. “What is it?”

  “A letter from Kelsey.”

  He jolted, unprepared for that reply. From Kelsey?

  Jill touched his arm. “I tried to reach you with funeral information, but Consuela said she hadn’t heard from you.”

  “She hadn’t. I was in a coma and not communicating well.”

  “A coma?”

  He looked up from the letter and met her eyes. “Remember your dream?”

  “You crashed your Vette?”

  He nodded. “Pretty much the way you envisioned it. Only I survived. Minus a kidney and plus a few metal parts that make airport security interesting.”

  She shook her head. “You were determined to give up that kidney.”

  He gripped the letter, remembering. “It was a useless waste of a good organ. Not what I intended.”

  “I know.” Her hand on his arm was warm and gentle. He supposed she did know, if anyone did. He’d wanted so much and accomplished so little. But he wasn’t in control. He fingered the envelope. The letter looked innocuous, but how could it be? “Do you know what’s in here?”

  “Can you see where I steamed it?”

  He glanced up, but the minx was kidding. She tossed her hair back with one hand. “Well, I have thought of opening it every time Consuela said, ‘No, Señor Morgan is not home.’”

  Morgan smiled. He’d missed her humor, her voice, her eyes. His glance dropped to her lips. Do not go there. She’ll only say no. She had come to deliver Kelsey’s letter. “Will you sit with me while I read it?”

  “I should. Kelsey asked me to deliver it in person.”

  “Must’ve been hard when you couldn’t reach me.”

  Her eyes settled on him like doves. “That wasn’t the only thing that was hard. I had so many questions. Where were you? Why didn’t you call? Why did you leave?” She searched him with her eyes.

  He hadn’t meant to make it worse. He wasn’t sure now what he’d meant. He’d been trying to make sense of it all, and maybe that wasn’t even possible.

  She said, “After a while I stopped asking. But there was Kelsey’s letter. I couldn’t forget that.”

  He wished he’d known. Or did he? He took her hand and drew her down beside him on the stoop. Then he opened the letter. His pulse raced as he unfolded the typed sheet and read:

  Hi, Morgan,

  As I told Jill, you’ll only be reading this if I’ve gone to be with

  Jesus.

  His throat suddenly felt as though they’d just removed the ventilator.

  I would have liked to meet you. You sounded really nice on the phone and I’m glad we got to talk. And thank you for the painting. It’s really cool. Dad said you’re the guy all the women faint over.

  He could tell when Jill got to that line, reading beside him. He nudged her ribs with an elbow.

  What I’m really thankful for is that you cared enough to help me. I know it didn’t work out (if you’re reading this) but that isn’t your fault. It was all according to a plan more perfect than we can understand. Just like I didn’t understand praying for you to get sick.

  His raised his eyebrows and flicked a sidelong glance at Jill, which she avoided. Interesting. Kelsey prayed for him to get sick? He suddenly recalled the times his stomach had revolted against the booze, what he now considered an allergy or aversion. Way beyond anything to do with volume. It had seemed diabolical. Now he suspected the opposite.

  I only knew that was what God wanted because something kept you from knowing His love. Sorry if you were miserable. I did feel bad for it but not if it worked. Do you know Jesus loves you?

  The same words as in his vision of her after the accident. Did he believe it yet?

  I hope you do. He loves you no matter what you’ve done or haven’t done. He’s always loved you. And no matter how bad things get, His love sees you through it. I know.

  Better than anyone. Morgan lowered the letter, pressed his eyes closed at the thought of her suffering. He’d finally understood the tourist’s words. Kelsey had been pure and good enough to cooperate in God’s redemptive work when he’d been stiff-necked and rebellious. He’d spent these last months trying to be everything God had called him to be. He’d done it as much for Kelsey as for the Lord himself.

  But now she reached back from the grave to assure him of Christ’s love, love that had been there before he turned his life around, that had always been there. The least he could do was believe her. He raised the letter again.

  Now for my last request. Will you marry Jill?

  They reacted together, but Morgan didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. What impish trick was this? Of course, she would have no idea Jill sat beside him as he read. Then again, she had asked Jill to hand-deliver it. He could almost picture Kelsey peeking down from the clouds, laughing at his discomfort. He read on.

  I hope so, and I’ve prayed hard that you will be together when

  I’m gone. You’re supposed to be. Thank you for everything.

  Jesus loves you and so do I!

  Kelsey

  Morgan stared at the letter, afraid to take his eyes from it, knowing they would go directly for Jill. He folded it slowly and slid it back into the envelope, then stared at that, dazed by the request that so crazily caught hold.

  “I swear I didn’t know that was in there.” Jill’s voice was low. “She didn’t say it in my letter.”

  His throat closed on the tight breaths, and his heart and lungs were reminiscently bruised. “It was her last request.”

  Jill’s face shot up toward his. “Morgan, it doesn’t mean …”

  He set the letter down and turned to her. “Are you happy, Jill? Do you have everything you want?” The same questions she had thrown at him in frustration. Do you ever just want?

  The calm she had approached him with wavered. “I don’t want you to think you have to—”

  He cupped her face and kissed her soundly. The taste of her lips would never really leave him, nor the softness of her skin and the shape of her jaw. “What if I want to?” Wanted it so much he opened the chasm inside and let her see.

  She pressed her palm to his cheek. “You don’t have to do this. I only came because—”

  He kissed her again. He would kiss her until she realized he meant it. The need and hurt still trapped inside was the longing for her love, for days of companionship and nights sanctified by covenant. Not just any companion, but this woman he knew so well, needed so deeply.

  His life was God’s, but He was the one who said it wasn’t right for man to be alone. Morgan pressed his lips to her eyelids. “If you don’t want me, say so. I’ve been down roads you knew better than to travel.”

  She caught his face with her own hands. “I love you, Morgan.”

  Looking into her face, he drew the first unencumbered breath he’d enjoyed in a year. “Kelsey’s right. If you can love me, Jesus surely must.”

  Jill’s eyes teared. “She’d be so glad to hear that.”

  His own eyes s
tung as he held her face and the immensity of the moment sank in. Years of loss, the last one more acute than he could stand. He turned his face aside, battling the tears jerking his chest. He clenched his hand. “I did not intend to cry.”

  “You need to.”

  “Not in proposal mode.” But his voice broke with every word.

  She circled his neck and kissed him softly. “Yes.”

  “Yes?” Heart beating his ribs, he returned her kiss, fiercely gripping her arms and shoulders and waist, heart pounding and desire erupting like a volcano inside.

  “Morgan,” she gasped.

  “I know.” He pressed his forehead to hers and held her shoulders, clamping down the want inside. There was no way he’d mess it up again. But that didn’t make it easy. “So …” He cleared his throat.

  “How do we do this? Do I ask your father’s permission?”

  She wilted and shook her head slowly. “Maybe someday they’ll take the blinders off. I hope so.” She sighed. “But I don’t see it happening.”

  “This won’t help. Can you live with that separation?”

  “If I’m with you?” Her expression made it a no-brainer.

  His hands cupped her face again. I won’t allow any back-door wedding. We’re going to have the best—”

  She put a finger to his lips. “I already do.”

  He swallowed a fresh tightening in his throat and a new onslaught of desire. Back off. Calm down. Think of something else. “Tell me the truth. Did you know Kelsey was praying for me to chuck the liquor every time?”

  Jill’s cheeks dimpled, and there was a silver glimmer in her eyes.

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ll have you know I was stone sober when I wrecked my Vette.”

  “Maybe something more sedate like a Buick …”

  He caught his fingers in her hair. “You think I’m bringing you home in a Buick?”

  She laughed. “Maybe not.”

  Epilogue

  One more time, Jill. You can do it.” Morgan’s hand gripped hers with firm intensity. “Deep breaths, darling.”

  Easy for him to say. It wasn’t his stomach becoming a vise and crushing the air out of him. Or his skin pearled with sweat, mottled and red. He looked devastatingly wonderful as always—the bum.

  “Get ready, now. This is it.” He brushed her cheek with a kiss that projected all his hope, his strength, and his love.

  The contraction started and grew. She stared into his eyes and squeezed down on the pain with everything in her. Then the pressure released.

  “Hold it. Wait,” the nurse cautioned with a hand on her abdomen. She puffed frantically as people moved into position.

  Morgan’s hand pressed between her shoulder blades, solid and reassuring. His other palm stroking her head. “You’re doing great.” Waves of comfort.

  “Push now, slowly,” the doctor directed.

  Jill did. The sensation so unforgettable. Soft cheers.

  The doctor said, “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

  Jill stared at Morgan’s face as he watched them aspirate their daughter’s tiny nostrils, and then he cut the cord himself, tears washing his eyes a deeper shade of blue. He turned to her, his throat working soundlessly, then bent and kissed her softly. “A little girl, Jill.”

  The Hispanic nurse bundled the baby and tucked her into Jill’s arms, then turned to Morgan. “We have a saying: Anyone can make a son; it takes a lover to make a daughter.”

  Jill’s heart swelled. And a loving God to restore hope and blessing. Jill stared into her baby’s face, enthralled with every feature and the fine black hair like a thin lace cap. She ran a finger over the infant’s cheek and closed her eyes. Are you watching, Kelsey? This is your sister. Her tears were bittersweet.

  Morgan pressed his lips to her forehead, his thoughts obviously matching hers when he said, “She knows.”

  Jill looked into his face and nodded, then found the face of her baby, and joy exploded inside.