But not just the kiss. Because Rachel had just realized something much more important than a kiss.
With amazement, Rachel knew that Morgan had captured her heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Morgan stared at the lovely woman in his arms. It was time to come clean, he thought. He had to tell her about everything in his past so she would know. Then he would talk to her, tell her his feelings.
“I love you,” Rachel said.
Morgan stared at her lips, certain he hadn’t heard what she’d just said.
“I love you.” Nor had he repeated those words to her. The look in her eyes confirmed that he had indeed repeated the words. And with those words, they both had complicated this relationship more than Rachel knew. Still, he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned down and kissed her again.
She responded, tilting her head and, after a small hesitation, squeezing him tight.
Pulling back, he took her hands. Oh, boy, this is getting out of control quick. Morgan felt like he’d just been hit by a snowball that seemed small but was actually the size of a Mack truck. He had to talk to her—now.
The glow on her face made him hesitate.
Father, what am I going to do now? he silently asked. I have to tell her.
But later.
He’d wait until they left. He couldn’t tell her now. How would that look?
It would look like he’d been waiting for her to fall in love with him before he confessed his deep, dark secret.
He would have to wait. There was no other way to do it.
Together they left the dining hall and made their rounds to visit the apothecary, a costume shop, a souvenir shop and displays. They watched two sword fights, a hawking demonstration, and they ate again before it grew dark.
And during the entire time, Rachel never again spoke those three words she’d said to him earlier. But he knew she meant them. Her looks had turned shy, nervous. She radiated a cautious joy in her gaze. She hadn’t meant to blurt them out, he could tell that. But now that she had and he had returned them, there was a careful trust in her actions as she took his hand when they walked, leaned a bit more into him as they talked, inched closer when they sat.
These were little things she probably didn’t realize she did, but things that told him she had finally let down her guard and accepted him within her defined space as a safe person.
He felt horrible for that misplaced trust.
He felt guilty for not talking to her before now. But the time had just never seemed to come up. Lindsay had been there, or someone else, or because of testing…
“Are you ready to go?” he asked, looking at her.
She smiled at him. “Yes. I’m tired, and Lindsay will be going to bed soon. I’ve had a wonderful time, though.”
“So have I, sweetheart. Let me change, and I’ll be right out.”
He separated from her and quickly donned his street clothes before meeting her out front. Tucking her into the car, he moved around to his side and slid in. With a quiet hum, the car started, and they were on their way down the dark highway.
“I wonder if Lindsay will be in bed when I get home?”
“What time does she normally go to bed?” he asked and punched a small dial that illuminated a clock.
“Seven-thirty.”
The clock showed nine.
“You think she’ll wait up this late?” Morgan asked.
“I doubt it. She’ll try, but she rarely makes it past eight-thirty.”
“She is something,” Morgan murmured. “Energetic and so full of life and love.”
“Well, I think so. But, I am her mother.”
He heard a soft sigh, then her hesitant words. “I don’t know how she turned out so loving. Her father certainly didn’t love her.”
“Perhaps he just didn’t know how to deal with it or hadn’t learned just how important she was,” Morgan said.
“He was stingy,” Rachel replied, and he could hear the pain in her voice. “And now he’ll never have a chance to change or to know his daughter.”
“Yeah.” Morgan felt a knot in his stomach at her words.
“Morgan, I have to ask, but I…”
“What, sweetheart?” Concerned, he glanced quickly at her. They hit the edge of town. A street lamp caught her face, throwing it into stark planes and curves. He thought, at that moment, he was seeing all the hurt, the pain, the emptiness she had felt battling her way through her daughter’s problem and a husband’s rejection.
“Do you…care for Lindsay?”
He turned down the street that led to Rachel’s house. “Of course I do. Why in the world do you ask that?”
Then it hit him—like a ton of bricks. “She’s very special to me, Rachel. You have no idea how much.”
He turned onto her street and slowed.
“Oh, Morgan—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Please, Rachel, let me tell you just how much.”
He eased the car to a stop in front of her house and put it in park before turning and focusing his attention on her.
Curiosity and hope shone in her eyes. Oh, Rachel. I’m so sorry.
He took her hands and squeezed them. They were alive with warmth as she wrapped her fingers around his.
“What is it, Morgan?”
“When I first saw your daughter, Rachel, I took a special interest in her. Not because your mother asked me to or because I thought it might provide a way for me to meet you again. I decided the day we ran into each other that God had sent you here for me. You’re the woman I want to marry. But I saw you were hurting and knew it had to be in God’s time.
“Then I saw your daughter. She’s partially deaf. She’s handicapped. She’s imperfect.”
Her hands tightened, and she pulled slightly, but he refused to release her. “Hear me out. That drew me to her, Rachel, opening my heart, making me all that more willing to love her.”
“She’s not charity, Morgan,” Rachel whispered in a tiny, pained voice.
“No, she’s not. Oh, Rachel.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I had a daughter once, Rachel. She would be five years old now.”
Rachel relaxed. “I’m sorry, Morgan.” Leaning forward, she tried to slide her arms around him.
“No, baby. Listen.”
Holding those hands in his, he drew strength then said, “Yes, it was horrible—one of the worst things that could have happened. She had cerebral palsy.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
Morgan shuddered. “I was in my last year of medical school. The hours were ferocious. I had to make contacts, network, work hard to get where I wanted to be.”
Tension curled her fingers in his hands. He wanted to pull her forward and hug her, weep over what he was about to say, but he couldn’t. The pain was too deep. The pain he was going to cause her was too deep for him to take that liberty.
“What are you saying?” she whispered, her voice harsh and low in the car. Her breathing picked up slightly, going shallow.
“I told my wife we couldn’t have children. I told her we had to wait another year or two after I got my career on firm ground. I was driven to be the best, have the best practice, and a child would have interfered with that. I didn’t want her to have the child, but she got pregnant anyway.”
“You didn’t want the child?” Rachel demanded, low.
“I was furious with my wife. I felt like she had tricked me, to risk my career like she did, Rachel. Or at least, that’s how I saw it at the time. Our marriage fell to a shambles over the deceit and my own struggle between career and family.”
“You didn’t want her,” Rachel said again.
Finally, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t. But then she was born. She was beautiful but imperfect. My wife blamed me for it and just left the hospital without authorization, taking the baby with her.”
Rachel cried out in pain. Her cry shot through him to the marrow of his bones. She jerked against his hold, her hands icy, the life g
one from them.
“No, Morgan. Stop! I don’t want to hear this.”
Sobbing, she tried to pull away again.
“I had realized when I’d seen the baby that things would have to change. I was going to talk to Sarah and tell her I’d been foolish. But she didn’t believe me. She didn’t believe I had changed. My career was first. I was served with divorce papers. That’s when I found out she didn’t have the child. You see, she blamed me for an imperfect child, yet she didn’t want to have that imperfect child, either.”
“Sarah put the baby into a home.” A sob escaped Rachel, one that sounded pure pain.
“I started a search for my daughter as soon as I realized she wasn’t with my wife, but it was too late. She had died a few weeks before, in the home.”
He released her hands.
Chest heaving, she grabbed at her seat belt, trembling. “How could you!” she cried in anger and pain.
“I was selfish.” He could say nothing else, guilt and pain surrounding him in his miserable isolation.
“You deserted her. You left Lindsay—left her fatherless!”
Morgan heard the mistake and realized she was flashing back to Jim. He had become Jim in her mind. He couldn’t argue. He was Jim in his own mind.
“I’d do anything to change things. But it’s too late, Rachel. We can’t go back.”
Finally managing to release her seat belt she shoved the door open. “That’s right. Don’t come near my daughter. I’m not going through this again. How could you do this, Morgan? In a home! A home!”
He pushed out of his seat, opened the door. “Rachel, I’m sorry—”
“No. Stay there!” Sobbing uncontrollably, she turned toward the house. “I can walk myself in. Goodbye, Morgan.”
She bolted. He could think of no other word to describe the sprint to her house. She was running. Running from her past, from her pain, from what he’d just told her.
With a weary sigh Morgan watched her run inside and close the door without looking back.
Wearily, his shoulders slumped. He’d just lost the woman he loved.
What was he going to do now?
Chapter Nineteen
“Morgan? What are you doing here so late?” Ben pulled open the door, concern creasing his brow. “What’s the matter?”
Morgan could only stare at Ben, his heart breaking into pieces. Pain had driven him off from Rachel’s house. Pain and despair. A numbing emptiness drove him to his pastor. Darkness surrounded him like a death shroud, pain from the past, the present, pain from losing Rachel. “Can you talk a bit, Ben?”
“Always,” he said. Morgan walked in and sat down in one of the armchairs. Ben’s house was simply decorated, the furniture having been supplied by the church. A sofa and two chairs, in neutral colors, a carpet that really needed to be replaced. The coffee table had magazines and a basketball cap. Ben loved basketball. No pictures of family on the walls. No pictures, he noted blankly. Empty, like he felt. White walls with no color to break the bleakness.
Ben walked quietly across the room, past the dining table and into the kitchen. Morgan heard the fridge open and close before Ben returned with a couple of sodas.
Morgan took the drink Ben offered and noted how chilled it was. “This feels like Rachel’s hands,” he murmured. “Cold. Wet with tears.”
“What happened, brother?” Ben asked softly, using the affectionate term often used by members of the church. He dropped onto the sofa, sprawling in a relaxed manner, legs spread out before him, cola held between his hands. His eyes gave him away, though.
Morgan saw the compassion and alertness that said he was listening to every word, cataloguing every movement he made. That very alertness and willingness to listen were what finally helped Morgan tell Ben everything.
“She fell in love, and I crushed her heart.”
Silence fell in the room like the aftermath of a death toll resonating into a cold, dark night. Silence, that is, until Morgan broke into tears and started sobbing. Morgan couldn’t believe he had finally broken down. After years of guilt and grieving, he’d thought all the pain and emptiness locked away. Instead, it had only been slumbering, waiting for someone to trigger it and remind him, make him face what had happened. Vaguely, he felt someone move next to him and lay a hand on his back. He heard Ben’s low tones. He knew Ben understood the tears weren’t as much for Rachel as for Morgan’s dead daughter. He had never let go, he realized. Never released all that pain. He’d kept it inside. If he had, he’d have mentioned it to Rachel before now. He cried out to God, praying for forgiveness, for restoration, for release from self-condemnation. Slowly, so very slowly, God’s miracle happened. The pain and horror and guilt of what he had done slid from him, away into the sea of forgetfulness as God wrapped His loving spirit around Morgan and filled him with peace.
Gradually the tears dried and silence once again reigned in the room. This time there was no pain, but a gentle sound of renewal and peace. And into this soft spirit of serenity, Morgan found himself repeating his entire story to Ben.
“I was so caught up in my career, my own needs, Ben, that she died. It was my own selfishness and need. I would give anything if I could have saved her. And now Rachel is terrified history is going to repeat itself in me,” he finished. “She’s afraid that if I get too near them, I’ll end up rejecting her daughter. I’ve never seen such panic and fear and hurt in anyone’s eyes—except my wife’s. Sarah looked that way just before she left me. We were both so full of bitterness and anger.”
“If only we had sat down and talked before the baby was born. Looking back, I realize her deceit made me angrier than our having a child. She purposely set out to deceive me, and I walked around for most of her pregnancy with a wounded pride, thinking my job so very important.”
“By the time the baby was born, she was sleeping in a different room, refusing to talk to me. I had hoped after the baby’s birth, things would ease. She would accept my job instead of telling me to quit—quit! If I loved her I would quit and do something that would keep me home with her.” Morgan sighed wearily. “I only wanted to finish school, get my career started and then we could settle down and be a family.” He shook his head. “I never even told her I would accept the child. I was so wrapped up in my own world, Ben, and the problems between us, that I let a stream turn into an ocean of separation.
“She sneaked out of the hospital, disappeared from town and had me served with divorce papers.” Looking at Ben, he whispered, “The only thing that alerted me that Sarah didn’t have the baby was the fact that I asked about custody of the child. Now Rachel…”
“Rachel isn’t going anywhere. At least we know that.”
“Why are you so sure?” Morgan asked. He and Ben talked a lot. Sometimes Ben was very sure of himself and other times he wasn’t. But now, he sounded sure, firm, with complete assurance that Rachel would be there.
Ben stood, walked to the sofa and resumed his relaxed position. He took a swig of his cola then leaned back. “Easy. This is her home. She lives here. Her daughter is in school here. And,” he said and paused, allowing a twinkle to enter his eyes, “you said God sent her into your life forever and ever.”
Morgan chuckled. It sounded a bit rusty, but at least he could chuckle. He reached for his cola and drank a portion of it before sitting back. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”
“Did you mean it? Do you really believe God sent this woman into your life to share forever after with?”
Morgan took another sip of cola to give himself time to frame an answer. Did he really believe that? Or had it simply been Lindsay or his attraction? “Yes. I really believe He did, Ben. I can’t explain it. But it was something— I just knew, in my heart, right there in the hall, that she was mine and I was hers.” Glancing at Ben, he added, “She owns my heart. I can’t imagine living without Rachel. Without Lindsay.”
Silence fell, an easy one, as he contemplated what it would be like—and realized, indeed, he could not even
imagine life without Rachel and Lindsay there with him. He had been asleep, dormant, until they had come into his life. Something changed the day Rachel ran into him. Lindsay changed him further with her abounding love and acceptance of him. He could give again, wanted to give. Not as a sacrifice, as he had been doing for years, not out of duty, but out of love, out of the abundance of his heart.
Ben broke the silence. “God keeps His promises, brother. Are you going to believe that all of this will work together for what is best and for what you know God has promised you in your heart?”
Morgan listened to the quiet but strong words Ben offered him. Inside, a spark of renewal ignited and slowly flickered to life. “I hurt her,” he said. “She was devastated.”
“And you’ll hurt her again. And she’ll hurt you. We’re only human, Morgan. Things happen. But with God’s guidance and your persistence in your faith, things will work out.”
Slowly, Morgan nodded. “I—yeah. Now the question is, what am I going to do?”
“Good question,” Ben said and relaxed in the chair and crossed his legs.
“Going near Lindsay is out. That would be underhanded, and as scared as Rachel is right now, it would only aggravate matters.”
“I think you’re right on that one. Next option.”
“I could call her mom—no. That’d look like…” Morgan made a face at Ben.
Ben chuckled. “Copping out? Hey, if I loved the woman, I’d try anything I could to get her back.”
“How will Betty feel about this?” Morgan suddenly asked. “She loves her kids, loves Lindsay, too.”
“You’ll have to ask her that.”
Morgan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck where he could feel the muscles twisting. “So first I have to find out if her mother is out to cook my liver for supper. If not, then I have to see if she’ll talk to Rachel and maybe gauge how she’d react to me coming by to talk.”
“Now that, Morgan, sounds like a plan.”
Morgan grinned at Ben. “And, knowing Rachel, when she slams the door in my face, I’ll have to find a different way.”
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