Morgan looked around at the enclosed area.
“It’s through that gate in the back.” He pointed behind the cottage. “It spreads out and covers about thirty acres. Most of it’s wild, but Mel and Thom had been working on some of it. I want to show it to you.”
She nodded and looked at his gorgeous profile as he studied the garden, lost in thought. A slight frown broke his countenance.
“Now,” he interrupted her musings, “I need to talk to you about Mrs. T. You are welcome to have her here, of course. However, she is like you in that she can see the Gulatega. Cats don’t generally react well being in such close proximity to them. They don’t seem to be in any danger, but it makes them kinda weird.”
“How?”
“Well, you figure, they can see them move about, but they can’t smell them. It upsets them. Meesha will let me know when they are around, whine and watch an area even though she can’t see them, but she doesn’t become agitated.”
“I see.” Morgan sounded sad.
“We could try it for a while.”
“But I’m not staying,” she countered.
Dorian expression was one of surprise. “You’re going back with them?”
Morgan fiddled with a piece of loose wicker on the seat of the swing. She had come to the decision last night, right before drifting off to sleep. She could think better away from Dorian. In fact, when she was anywhere near him, her brain didn’t want to function, period. Unfortunately, her body was all too ready to take over. So much was happening—so fast. She needed time to think.
Although the shop and the gardens were compelling, she wasn’t quite ready to take on all this hoodoo stuff that kept happening to her. Until a week or so ago, her life had been simple. Predictable. She even complained to Jenn that her life was
too
predictable. What was the old saying,
Be careful what you ask for; you might get it?
Now, she would give just about anything to go back to simple and predictable.
Morgan knew in her heart that she couldn’t make things be the way they were before. Her life was forever altered. It would have happened anyway, sometime in the future. She understood that. She also knew that, before Melissa and Thomas Kilraven had died, she’d had more options. They knew it, too, and, from what the letter said, they wanted to allow her to make her choices.
She decided to be as honest with him as she could. “Dorian,” she began and turned in the swing, rested her leg on the seat between them, keeping some distance, “things are happening so fast. With this,” she looked down and added quietly, “and with you.”
Dorian put his hand under her chin and lifted it, looking into her eyes. Those pools of green that drew him in like a beacon reminded him of the dark waters in an unexplored grotto. He wanted to fall into her eyes and never look back. He started to lean forward, to touch his lips to hers, and stopped himself. This was what she was talking about. He could feel the current between them. He dropped his hand.
Morgan also felt the electricity sizzle. It no longer hurt her, it was just there. More compelling. It was as though she was beginning to crave the feeling, whenever he touched her.
“It’s this,” she said. “This thing that happens between us. I don’t understand it. I’ve never felt it before. Is it just you? Me? Us? I feel as though I can’t get enough of you—I mean this.” She felt her face heat up.
“I know,” he tried to reassure her. “I’ve never felt this before either—with anyone. And, if you think you are drawn to it, trust me, you have no idea.”
Morgan laughed. She couldn’t help herself. It was the expression on his face. It helped lighten the tension.
He smiled at her. A megawatt smile. His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Look,” he said, running his hand through his unruly hair, black waves being ruffled by the breeze, “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll try.” He shrugged, “Can’t say I’ll always succeed—you are one tempting woman. But I’ll never go any further than you’re willing to let me.” He caught her sound, put a finger to her lips. “I’ll also try to control this thing for both of us. Just stay. For a little while. Until we can talk things out and you can get a better feel for this place. It’s not always like it’s been this week. I promise. Actually, it can be downright boring.”
Again, she laughed. “Yeah, right.”
At that very moment, they heard Meesha scratch at the cottage door. Before they could yell, “No!” Kayla opened the door and Meesha bolted inside. Dorian and Morgan leapt from the swing and raced to the cottage, colliding with each other as they tried to pull open the door at the same time.
“After you,” he yanked open the door.
Morgan ran inside and straight to the bedroom, expecting a flurry of fur from a cat and dog fray. She skidded to a stop, Dorian bumping into her. Mrs. T lay curled up as they had left her, guarding her young ward. Meesha lay on the foot of the bed, her head resting on her paws, quietly watching Morgan and Dorian stumble over one another. Meadow laughed. Except no sound emerged. Morgan forced herself to smile down at her.
“I see you have everything under control,” Morgan said, choking back the emotion as she thought of what the poor child had been through, and the fact that, even though she didn’t look it, this frail body, nestled between two loving animals, was thirteen. A budding woman.
Not speaking, Meadow gave a slight nod of her head.
“Then we’ll just tiptoe back out of here and leave you to your menagerie.” Morgan turned, avoided walking right back into Dorian, and walked through the cottage and out the door, hoping to make it before the tears fell.
She was outside, in the garden area, when Jenn caught up to her and placed a hand on her arm. “You okay?”
Morgan could only shake her head no, afraid her voice would crack.
Jenn saw Dorian coming out of the cottage and waved him away. He kept coming but skirted around them. Not looking back, he called over his shoulder, “I’m going to Teresa’s to pick up some buns and sweet stuff for the sweet stuff.” He disappeared around the side of the shop building.
“Let’s go inside,” Jenn urged Morgan forward.
“Oh, Jenn,” Morgan said as she sank into the kitchen chair.
Jenn brought them both coffee and sat across from her, patting her hand. “She’s going to be all right. I promise.”
Morgan looked into Jenn’s baby blues, “You’ve never lied to me before—”
“—and I’m not now,” Jenn stated. “She’s a sick little girl, but I have a feeling she’s going to be fine. The physical will be taken care of...and we have incredible specialists working with us to deal with the other. She’s going to be fine.”
“Have you decided where they’re going?”
“Yes. I was talking with Kayla and John.”
Morgan raised her brows at the mention of John’s name.
“I know. Don’t go there. I completely lost it. Me! Goofy. There is just something about him. It’s a good thing I’m going home.”
“Jim?” Morgan asked, referring to the man Jenn had been seeing.
“No. Yes. I mean…well…we’ve been having some problems. Nothing huge,” she added at Morgan’s wide eyes. “It’s just that we seem to be heading in different directions lately.” She took a deep breath. “I would never consider anything…I mean, I want to give Jim and I a chance… It’s complicated,” she finally finished and took a gulp of cool coffee.
“Complicated’s something I can relate to. About your talk with Kayla?”
“I want her placed in
my
house. It’s got the tightest security.” Jenn was referring to the largest of their facilities. It was located in Williamsburg and, although she traveled to all the homes, this was where she kept her offices. Because of the sensitivity of records, it had been built with the heaviest security features and the most personnel. It was also where she housed the “highest risk” families. It was a huge facility on a lot of acreage done in a Colonial Williamsburg style. Jenn loved the buildings and the grounds. It was her crowning achievement.
“Morgan,” Jenn began and bit her lower lip.
“What?” The tension in Morgan skyrocketed.
“No. Nothing like that, sweetie. I was just wondering. Well, Meadow and Mrs. T seemed to really hit it off. Do you think I might borrow Mrs. T to travel back with us and stay with Meadow until she gets better? There are all these postulates about animal therapy…” Jenn left it hanging—even she knew she was reaching.
“They are generally referring to dogs, Jenn,” Morgan said with a laugh. The idea of Mrs. T as a therapy anything… Nevertheless, she had seen how the cat had taken to Meadow—an instant bond of some sort. Morgan wasn’t sure she wasn’t a little jealous. Then remembering what Dorian had said, she knew this was the perfect solution.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Morgan said. “If anyone or anything can bring that girl to talk, it’ll be Mrs. T.”
Jenn rose to go tell Meadow the good news when they heard the front door unlock.
“That must be Dorian,” Morgan commented. “With treats. Jenn, you haven’t tasted anything, until you’ve tasted Teresa’s baking.”
Dorian walked through the shop laughing. He had someone with him. “Look who I ran into outside the shop?”
“I just wanted to see how your eyes were doing.”
“Dr. Yancy. Hi.” Morgan turned and grinned.
His warm eyes crinkled with humor.
Morgan loved it when people smiled with their eyes. “Oh, by the way,” she began and turned to see an odd expression on Jenn’s face, “this is—”
“Uncle Mike?” Jenn sounded dumbfounded.
“Jenn?” Dr. Yancy’s face blanched. “What are you doing here?”
Jenn threw her arms around the thin man. “Morgan, this is the favorite uncle I’m always telling you about. What are you doing here? I thought you were someplace near Atlanta?”
“I am. Morgan just happens to be a patient.”
“What?” Jenn looked from her uncle to Morgan.
Morgan shrugged. “When Jasmine got the bug spray in my eyes, this is the doctor they called to treat me.” Remembering what he had said about her “mother,” Morgan cocked her head to study him a little closer. She looked at Jenn, but Jenn seemed truly surprised to see him here.
“Talk about a small world,” Dorian spoke up, setting packages on the counter. “And to celebrate this little family reunion, I have brought hot cross buns from the B & B.” He lifted the bag and waved it around the room. The sweet smell of yeast, cinnamon, and sugar filled the air.
“Teresa sent Meadow a special plate, just for her.” He set one package aside. Whipping out a tray from below the counter, he set up a plate, added a small flower in a little vase from the window, grabbed an extra bag of goodies and backed his way out the door. “Don’t stand on ceremony. And don’t let them get cold,” he called through the screen door. “Oh, and save me one or two.”
Morgan got up and set plates around the table, leaving Jenn and her uncle to talk. She filled a plate with buns, poured fresh coffee for everyone, including Dorian, and returned to the table.
“Can you believe it? He actually works for that place we were looking up?” Jenn shook her head.
“Bask & Morrisette?”
“No, actually the whole place is called Abbott House,” Jenn corrected. She reached for a bun, placed it on her plate and licked her finger. “It must run in the family. I have a foundation, he works for a foundation.” She filled her mouth and stopped talking.
Morgan watched her friend eat. Jenn approached food as she did life. Like it was a treat and not a morsel should be missed. She found it amazing that Jenn kept her athletic, yet curvy figure. As far as Morgan knew, Jenn never dieted and never gained an ounce—not in all the years she’d known her, anyway.
Dr. Yancy turned to Morgan, “Before I get Teresa’s sugar all over my fingers, let me take a look at your eyes.”
Morgan turned to him and opened them wide. It was fun to do that and not be afraid of some comeback.
“Doesn’t she have the most gorgeous eyes, Uncle Mike?” Jenn asked.
“Yes, they are quite beautiful and have healed nicely.” He offered no mention of Melissa’s, put his light away and grabbed a bun, took a bite, closed his eyes and moaned. “Made by the hands of an angel.”
From the look on his face, Morgan sensed there was more to that comment than baking skills. That, and the way he’d avoided the suggestion he go see Teresa the last time he was here, made Morgan wonder about the real history between those two.
Jenn was watching Morgan. “So, can I take her?” she asked between bites.