The Still of Night (6 page)

Rick hoisted the saddle off. “Even though Stan has him at the private Christian school, two rival gangs are courting Todd. Stan thought he’d get him out of Denver, try to make some inroads. We’re working out a chore schedule for Todd and his sister—foster sister, or however that works.”

Morgan chewed the corner of his lip. “That’ll go over well with Todd.”

“I hope it’ll do him good.”

At the sound of the screen door banging, Morgan glanced toward the house. “What about Noelle?”

Rick stared across the yard at his wife. “She’s really somethin’, Morgan.” He said it as though just the sight drew the words from him.

“Tell me about it.”

Rick sobered. “We weren’t going to take guests this summer, but I think it helps to have other people around. She gets pretty focused.”

“On you?”
Rick should complain?

Rick sent the last horse up to pasture. “It hasn’t been that long. God’s been good, but sometimes she’s shaky.”

Morgan watched Noelle spread birdseed on the railing. “You sure a troubled kid is what she needs around?”

“She was glad for the chance. Shifts the spotlight.”

Morgan shook his head. His first assessment must not have captured all the nuances of his brother’s relationship. Again he had that sense that Noelle had chosen the better man. “Any regrets?”

Rick squinted. “All the things I didn’t do right.”

Morgan rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, Clark, Lois doesn’t seem to notice.”

Noelle headed for them, shaking the seed from her fingers and still looking like a piece of Dresden china. “Where’d you go, Morgan? I heard the car tear out.”

“Tear out?” He smiled. “Just giving Todd a little ride.”

Noelle searched his face. “Really?”

Morgan spread his hands. “What?”

“I just … that’s nice, Morgan.”

“And …”

She slid a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know your sisters adore you, but I didn’t know you were interested in kids in general. I wouldn’t see you spending time with a boy like Todd.”

“I’m a sucker for hard cases.”

Her gray-green eyes were luminous in the daylight. “I should know that.”

His chest tightened.
Sure. Recapture the heartache. Smart, Morgan
. He looked away. “Guess I’ll see what’s roarin’ at the Boar.” It was early to hit a bar, even for him. But hey, he was on vacation. He started for the car.

“Morgan.”

He turned back to Rick. “Yeah?”

“Did you get a flight to Iowa?”

Morgan frowned. “It’s lined up if I decide to go.” And he just might want some distance after all.

Rick nodded. “Good.”

After biking with Dan out to Finnegan’s Pond, twenty-four miles roundtrip from town and back, Jill had spent a quiet afternoon on the patio with Rascal and two professional journals on developing receptive language in autistic children and the use of broad-spectrum anti-depressants for various emotional disorders.

Hearing a tap on the glass, Jill pulled open her patio door to admit her friend Shelly, who was waiting with a globe-shaped lollipop. “Tell me what you think of this one.” She slipped off the plastic and held it out.

Jill took the lollipop. Not too many people got to be the unofficial assistant to the taste tester for Cartier Confections. Choosing the new test-market flavors was only part of Shelly’s job, but she took it seriously and always included Jill for her discerning palate.

Jill eyed the current prospect. “For starters, you’ve got to blend the colors. This white-and-ecru swirl looks like something someone spit in the parking lot.”

“Major concern.” Shelly checked it off on her PDA. “No phlegm on a stick.”

“What’s the flavor?”

“Taste it.”

Jill sniffed it. “I’m not much for coconut.”

“This is a taste test, not a sniff test.”

Jill licked the lollipop, surprised by the sweet, pleasant flavor. “Tastes more like pie.”

“Maui coconut cream.”

Jill slid the pop into her mouth and spun the stick, coating her tongue for a full dose of flavor. It wasn’t bad, less cloyingly sweet than some Shelly had had her try. She’d never make it to the stick, though. In her opinion, they ought to cut the size by half. But they wouldn’t market as well. You need size for an eye-catching display, Shelly had told her. “Good flavor. You ought to do one with kiwi. Kiwi-pineapple. You could suck the coconut left-handed and the kiwi-pineapple right.”

“Spoken by the girl who has yet to finish one, not two, lollipops at once.”

Jill shrugged. “After the tenth suck, the sweet taste buds are saturated.”

“Thankfully the majority of our market does not agree.” Shelly worked her way into the sitting room.

“So does Maui coconut cream represent a merger, an acquisition, or a new contest winner?”

“None of the above. We’re just playing with some summertime variety tastes.”

“Definitely try the kiwi-pineapple. Makes people feel like they’re on vacation with one lick.”

“Hmm.” Shelly settled into the giraffe chair and picked up the reunion postcard. “What’s this?” She curled up her short freckled legs and switched on the lamp.

“Class reunion.”

“Fifteen-year?”

“It’s a fund-raiser.” Jill set the sucker on the counter and joined Shelly in the front room.

“Are you going?”

“I haven’t decided.” She glanced at the packet of forms on her desk, the sheet on which to fill in all her vital statistics, and the one to send in with the exorbitant fee. “The school needs work and a quick infusion of cash, so the alumni thought a mid-decade reunion-slash-fund-raiser would help. Get everyone together and appeal to their nostalgia.”

Shelly popped her gum. “And
are
you going?”

“I’m not nostalgic. I didn’t even go to the tenth.”

Shelly reached into the bowl of raw cashews on the corner table. “This is a good cause. You should know the schools need help, and reunions are important. They remind you of your roots, show you how far you’ve come. Besides, it would take your mind off things.”

“Off Dan, you mean.”

Shelly raised her hands to fend off the argument. “Dan assures me you worked things out. He’s happy; you’re happy; I’m happy.”

“How’s Brett?”

Shelly tossed a cashew at her. “Brett’s happy.”

“Well, good. Then I don’t need the reunion.”

“Why not go for the fun of it? I went to my tenth and had a blast. You wouldn’t believe the guys who were bald already. And the spreading waistlines …”

“Well, I don’t care who’s bald, and—”

“Where’s the paper work?” Shelly dropped the cashews back into the bowl and unfolded her legs.

Jill waved toward her desk, and Shelly sauntered over, then scooped it up along with a pen and returned to her chair. “Let’s see. Name, address. Marital status—single; children—none.”

Jill flinched.
One
.

Shelly wrote as she talked. “Okay, here’s the good part. In fifty words or less, describe your life today and how Wilson High impacted you. Share the good times, the memories, the heartbreaks, and the high points that made you who you are today.”

Jill felt her chest closing in.
The heartbreaks and high points that made

her who she was …

“I’m waiting.” Shelly held the pen above the paper.

Jill scooped Rascal into her arms and nestled him under her chin. “I don’t want to do this now, Shelly.” She settled onto the couch.

“It’s not that difficult, Jill. Favorite teacher?”

“Mrs. Vandersol. American lit.”

“Sports?”

“Cheerleading and track.”

Shelly shook her head. “That’s why you and Dan are so good. You’re both physical fitness fiends. Best memory?”

“Homecoming, senior year.”
My first dance with Morgan
.

“Elaborate.” Shelly held the pen poised.

Morgan in his dove gray tux, her white satin gown, the cluster of lavender roses and baby’s breath she’d worn on her wrist, the white rosebud she had pinned on Morgan’s lapel, the rosebud he’d crushed when he kissed her good-night.

“And …” Shelly looped the pen in her hand.

“And nothing.”

“Well, who’d you go with, for heaven’s sakes?”

Jill’s throat tightened painfully. “Morgan Spencer. We were nominated king and queen, so he asked me to the dance.”

“First date?”

“Yes.” Though the iridescent hues of her dreams had included Morgan Spencer long before that first date.

“This is good stuff, Jill.”

Jill reached over and snatched the paper. “I don’t want that written.”

“Why not?”

“It’s personal.”

“That’s the idea.” Shelly circled her hand in the air.

Jill folded the paper in her lap. “I’ll write the rest when I’ve thought about it.”

“Then you’re going?”

“Maybe.”

Shelly arched her eyebrows and curled her fingers into claws. “I
vant
a promise.”

Jill laughed. “All right, I’ll go. But I’m not filling up this page with mushy stuff no one cares about. I’ll say how Mrs. Vandersol instilled a love for teaching that I’ve carried with me into my work.”

“Oh blah-de-blah-de-blah.”

“Sorry.”

“You’ll get into the spirit when you get there. Let’s see … it’s next week? You’re way overdue for sending in to the memory book.”

“Rats.” Jill clicked her fingers.

“You do not have the right attitude, girl.”

Jill smiled. “Well, I’m a little short of attitude these days.”

Shelly stood. “I have to run. Brett does expect to eat, even on the weekends, if you can believe it. Here.” She scooped up the rest of the envelopes. “Read your mail.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jill walked her out the door, gave her a squeeze. “Thanks for the lollipop.” Though she probably would never finish it. As Shelly said, they must have removed her sweet tooth with her wisdom teeth. She turned back inside, flipping through the envelopes that had accumulated while she battled the past week. Her hand froze on the creamy stationery envelope near the bottom. Her breath came in disjointed jerks as she stared at the name on the return label.
Benson
. She closed her eyes and forced her diaphragm to form three deep breaths.

Roger and Cinda Benson. Parents of Kelsey Renée Benson. She had thought it a nice name when they told her. But she had dreamed so many times since that it could have been Kelsey Runyan.

Jill stared at the envelope, the neat rounded script. Her name and address penned by Kelsey’s … mother. She slit open the flap and took out the letter inside. Her hands shook as she unfolded the single sheet.

Dear Jill,

No, she didn’t want to read it. Why would they contact her? Did Kelsey … was she old enough to wonder about her birth mom, to want to know, to meet her? The Bensons had been very clear about that in the somewhat unorthodox adoption her aunt had handled. While they knew each other’s names, there would be no contact until Kelsey was of legal age, and then only if the child initiated it. Jill had been a child herself when she agreed. She dropped to the kitchen chair and pressed the letter flat on her knee.

Dear Jill,

I’m sure you realize we would not contact you lightly. Please sit down before you read on
.

Jill’s heart lurched. Something was wrong, so wrong Cinda asked her to sit down, proper procedure when delivering terrible news. She knew that from Dan and Brett.
Kelsey
. Her child …

This is not easy to share, but four years ago Kelsey contracted acute lymphocytic leukemia
.

Jill watched the words blur.
Leukemia. Four years
. Four years ago, and she never knew. She blinked her eyes clear and forced them to focus. Had Kelsey died and they were only now telling her the fact?

She responded well to treatment and attained remission …

No, Kelsey was alive.

… until three months ago when the cancer recurred
.

Cancer recurred
. Those words must be Cinda’s worst nightmare. Thinking of the other woman’s pain cleared her own head. After all, it was Cinda who had loved and nurtured Kelsey all these years, Cinda who had lived the last four in fear … and it was her terror now unfolding.

So why did it hurt so much to read those words? This was the child she’d given away. Jill straightened in the chair. She had given up her right to know her, to be part of her daughter’s life. What then? What did they want?

Since her relapse, the leukemia is particularly tenacious. The specialist
in charge of her case recommends a bone marrow transplant. If Kelsey has
siblings, that would be the best possibility for a match
.

Siblings. No, there were no siblings. Kelsey was her only child, her only one.

If not, we are hoping you …

Jill felt suddenly weak.
Oh my God. They want me
. Her heart leaped and plummeted in the same moment. She would see her daughter! But her daughter was dying.

Everything paled compared to that. No, not everything. She was being given a chance. There was more she could give her child, more than life alone. Actually, it was like giving her life again. If her bone marrow arrested the disease, cured Kelsey …

Jill breathed quickly, too many emotions warring inside. She pored over the rest of the letter. How long had it sat there on her table? Three, no, four days. Had the Bensons been waiting fearfully that whole time? She walked to the living room and dialed the number at the bottom of the page without another thought. After all, what other choice was there? “Yes, hello. This is Jill Runyan.” Her pulse thumped in her throat.

“Oh, thank God.” Cinda caught her voice in a quick half sob. “I’m sorry.”

“No, please. It’s all right.”

A pause, then, “Thank you for calling. You must have received our letter.”

“I just read it. I’m sorry I didn’t get it sooner.”

“Jill … may I call you Jill?”

“Of course.”

Cinda drew a thick breath. “I know this is very abrupt and you may not have had time to think through it all, but we’re close to a second remission, and the sooner we go forward, the better the chance for success.”

“Yes, of course. But I don’t know anything about this. What do I do?”