Their dynamics never changed. Morgan loved that about them. Her throat felt tight.
“I asked you a question.” Talbot said softly.
Morgan took a breath and let it out. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She didn’t know. Desire him? Definitely. Respect? Absolutely. Trust? Love? Those questions were harder.
“Well, something’s changed,” Becky smiled at her.
Morgan wondered if she was blushing. “A lot has happened.”
Her mother reached over and took her hand, squeezed and let go. “I know, honey. It’s been, what, a month? A lot can happen in a month.” She cocked her head and studied her daughter. “But it’s something else. You seem more confident. Your eyes are sparkling.”
Morgan looked down. Her mom reached over and lifted her chin. “Hey, it’s us.” She smiled at her daughter. “I meant they looked brighter, happy.”
She smiled back and grabbed the last muffin. “Last muffin!” she announced and bit into it. A rule of the house since she could remember—stemming from her dad finishing off her mom’s favorite snack, without leaving her a bite—demanded the pronouncement that the last item was taken, eaten, or whatever. She even did it alone. She wondered if she would pass that tradition to her own family.
“The airport was chaotic, both in Atlanta and here. I did buy sunglasses in Atlanta. You know, you’d think I’d have thought of that years ago.”
“You tried once. You said they made things look funny.”
“They do. But, that’s not nearly as bad as having people stare at me. It’s been so different being in Ruthorford. I guess because Melissa lived there and people were used to her…nobody pays any attention to my differences. It’s rather nice.”
“So you’re going back?” Morgan could see that her mom was trying not to sound disappointed.
“Yeah, I think I have to.” She took a last sip of coffee, dabbed her lips, and sat back. “Wow. That was fabulous.”
Becky stood. “Talbot, you’ve got dish duty. Morgan, come with me. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Morgan brushed a kiss on his cheek and followed her mother upstairs.
She followed her mother into the guestroom opposite hers. It’d been converted into a workroom or studio. “Wow. This is fabulous.”
“Your dad did this for me. It only took him three weeks, once he got started. He said he got tired of having my stuff all over the kitchen table.”
“Yeah, but he’s going to miss being able to harass you.” Morgan walked around the room. A long worktable covered the center of the room. One wall had shelves and those shelves had drawers with clear fronts, so Becky could see her supplies. On the end, between the small windows, instead of a bed was a sewing table, forming an L along another wall to the dormer. It held a sewing machine on one end and an embroidery machine on the other. The large dormer had shelves on either side, with fabrics lying neatly stacked. The lighting had been upgraded as well.
As she watched, her mother pulled the door closed a bit. Behind it was a recliner, a side table and a light. She saw her father’s glasses sitting on the table. She shook her head. “Next, you’ll have him crafting.”
“Well, he does help me cut out patterns, now and again.” She laughed. “He just looked so damned uncomfortable sitting on a stool across from me.”
“It’s great, Mom. You should have done this years ago.”
“Years ago, this was our only guest room.”
Morgan swung around and looked toward her bedroom. She walked slowly toward the room where’d she’d grown-up. She let out a sigh of relief. Other than a new quilt in a beautiful fall motif, it still felt like her room. Of course, she’d never been one to junk up her space with the latest teen fads. Other than the princess canopy bed she’d had until she was thirteen, she’d always loved decorating, following in her mother’s steps.
Becky followed her daughter into her bedroom. “Honey, this will always be your room. You never were a messy child. I could vacuum, dust and make the bed and, voila, a guest room.” She put her arm around her daughter and squeezed. “Anytime, Pumpkin, you know that.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She turned and hugged her mother. “I love you.”
“Me, too, Pumpkin. Me, too.”
Morgan bounded back down the stairs. “Look, guys,” she included her father, wiping his big hands on a dishtowel. “Jenn and I are going to go away for a few days. Put our heads back on straight.”
“Jenn called. She apologized for taking you away. I told her to promise to join us for dinner when you get back and all’s forgiven. She wanted to know if we still had the hiking sticks your Dad made for you two.” Becky pointed to the corner by the stairs. Two five-foot limbs, carved, stained and polished, each with initials in it, stood in the corner.”
“Oh wow!” She walked over and picked hers up. “I haven’t thought about these in years.”
“Where’re you headed?” Talbot asked.
“She’s going to surprise me. But wherever it is, I gather we’ll do some hiking.” The tradition had started in their sophomore year, when Jenn had come home with Morgan on fall break. At first, it was small walks around the wooded property. With each trip home, the hikes got longer and further afield. Her father had given them matching walking sticks for Christmas the next year.
Morgan looked at her watch. “Yikes, I’m supposed to be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Wait,” Becky walked to the kitchen. “I packed some sandwiches and stuff.” She walked out with a real picnic basket.
Morgan shook her head. “I should have figured.”
She threw her arms around her mom and dad. “It’s great to be home. I’ve missed you.”
“We’ve missed you.”
“Dorian called, by the way,” her Dad said, almost hesitantly.
“He did?” Morgan felt her pulse jump and tried to appear nonchalant.
“What’d he want?”
“He’d like you to call him, for one. But, he also called to mention the stuff about Rob.”
Morgan heard the edge in her father’s voice when he said the name. “Apparently, the old boy has left the university and dropped off the radar.”
Morgan’s interest peaked. “Wow. I would never have thought him capable of robbery.”
Becky rubbed her hand down Morgan’s arm. “I’m glad you’re getting away. You girls be careful.”
“We will. Love you guys.”
****
Morgan pulled into the parking lot as Jenn loaded her bags into the large black Chevy Tahoe. Morgan whipped in beside her, opened the back door and brandished the hiking sticks.
Jenn grinned and held out her hand. “They found them.”
“Of course.” Morgan handed them over, hugged her friend, and pulled out her bag and the picnic basket.
“I do love your mother,” Jenn said and took the basket, inching up the lid to peek inside.
“Need a pit stop or are you ready to go?”
“I’m good. Where’re we headed?”
“Turns out, Uncle Mike has a cabin on Gwynn Island.”
Morgan finished wrestling her suitcase next to Jenn’s and turned to look at her friend.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in sunglasses,” Jenn commented. “It’s weird.”
“Weirder then my eyes?”
“I don’t think your eyes are weird. They’re you.”
“Thanks. Back to Gwynn Island.” She and Jenn had found the small Virginia island, located in the Chesapeake Bay off Mathews County, when they had taken off exploring one weekend during college. They loved it and used to fantasize about owning one of the little cabins that dotted the island. She wondered which one of those belonged to Dr. Yancy.
“Oh, yeah. He and I have had a chance to talk. Boy, have I got a lot to tell you.”
They climbed into the Tahoe and pulled out. Morgan yawned. Without looking Jenn spoke, “You look beat. Why don’t you nap? If you haven’t awakened by the time we arrive, I’ll get you up. Or, maybe not. I could let you sleep and eat all the great stuff your mom packed.”
“No you won’t,” she laughed. “Mom made enough to feed an army. I think I will take a nap. I didn’t sleep well.”
“Nightmare?”
Morgan nodded, leaned back and closed her eyes. Jenn watched as she began to snore softly. Quietly fishing the phone out of her pocket, she dialed, and then spoke softly into the phone, “I’ve got her.” She clicked off.
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan and Jenn sat in Adirondack chairs they’d lugged down to the pier. Having finished off the cranberry chicken sandwich and her mom’s incredible potato salad—the best Morgan had ever tasted—they now sat, Merlot in hand, watching a spectacular sunset. Come morning, if they pivoted the heavy chairs 180 degrees, they would be enjoying a spectacular sunrise. They figured this was why Uncle Mike, as Morgan was beginning to think of him, had chosen this site for his cabin.
It definitely wasn’t one of the ones they’d spied years back. This cabin was rustic as done by an architect—wonderfully appointed kitchen and baths, beautiful furnishings. The only thing truly rustic in the whole place was the wide plank flooring. It appeared the Abbott House paid very well indeed.
“So,” Jenn was saying, “little did I know that when they took me out of that flea ridden hole they called a school and plunked me down in Virginia to room with you, it was intentional.”
Morgan afforded her little more than a glance, since Jenn had already explained that “Uncle Mike” had been instructed to keep an eye on her. As a doctor, he had access to her medical records. Having a niece her age, and in college, definitely was an advantage. Of course, he was taking a chance, not knowing if they would get along. He’d figured everyone got along with Jenn, why not Morgan? Jenn, being none the wiser, relayed information home, and Mike’s sister was always more than willing to discuss her daughter and her daughter’s best friend with her brother. The good doctor then relayed the information to Abbott House and they, in turn, passed it on to the Kilravens.
Morgan wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole situation. She was feeling a bit down, but she wasn’t sure she could attribute it to plans to keep tabs on her. Thinking logically, it made sense. If Melissa and Thomas cared as much about her as they indicated, she could see them going to great lengths to make sure she was well and happy. She shuddered—to be watched all of one’s life and be unaware of it. She ran her hand over the back of her neck. It felt clammy. Maybe she was coming down with something. That, too, would be a first. She hadn’t been sick a day in her life.
“So, tomorrow…hiking or boating? Uncle Mike mentioned that he’s got a bass boat in a little boathouse around the bend.”
“Let’s play it by ear, okay.”
“You okay?” Jenn turned and looked at Morgan. Then she squinted at her, reached over and put her hand on her forehead. “You don’t look so good, girlfriend. Maybe we ought to head inside.”
“I’m just tired. It’s gotten a bit chilly out here as well.” She stood with some difficulty. “What’d you say we put on jammies and watch a movie?”
“Let’s make it something funny, okay. I don’t particularly want to burst into tears tonight.” Jenn took Morgan arm as they started up the path.
“Still nothing from Jim?” Morgan patted Jenn’s hand.
“Nope. Not a word. I don’t expect to, either. He said, and I quote, ‘I’m tired of playing second fiddle. I know what you do is important, but I should be, too.’ About that moment my phone rang and I had to dash off to an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, Jenn. I know you love him.”
“Loved, Morgan.” Jenn’s voice was almost a whisper. “If he can’t understand that what I do can’t be scheduled, then…” she let her voice drift into the night.
Morgan squeezed Jenn’s arm. “Then funny it is,” she assured her.
“I’d say it sounds like a plan. There’s nothing we have to do, except relax.” They trudged up the trail back to the cabin. Inside, as Morgan went into her bedroom—the cabin had three—Jenn called after her, “I’m going to take a moment to call and check on Meadow.” She walked into her own room and closed the door.
Morgan walked into the bathroom and turned on the water. As she wet a cloth, she looked at her reflection. She did look pale, more than usual. Waves of sadness washed through her. She wrapped she arms across her stomach.
Dorian.
A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She grabbed the counter and turned off the water, hoping to stem the sadness overwhelming her. She ached. Was he all right? What was he doing? Did he miss her?
She made her way slowly into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Maybe if she rested for just a moment. She fell sideways onto the pillow and, with her last bit of effort, kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs onto the bed….
“
It’s okay, sweet baby, I’ll take care of you.” Dorian whispered in her ear. Morgan shifted to make room for him. She felt his warmth as he lay next to her. “I know it’s bad, love. Let me take away the ache.” His breath brushed over her mouth and cheek. She felt the warm tingling sensation move through her body as his hand hovered just above her skin, letting the current flow, yet not quite touching her. She felt her blood heat and her pulse deepen, its beat coursing through her veins. She felt the ache to her core, wanting him inside. She arched. The hot current eddied in her abdomen and spread outward—down. She shifted her legs. Her breathing became shallow. “Let it go, my angel.” She heard his deep voice resonate against her hair. “Give me your desire.”
Morgan stretched. The sun filtered through the blinds and across the bed. She sat up. She was still wearing the jeans and sweater she’d had on last night. A small blanket lay across her. Her door was closed.
“Dorian?” she called. Birds chirping outside the window were the only response.
She remembered the dream and bolted upright. She had never had such an erotic dream. She still lay on the side of the bed where she’d fallen asleep. The other side was undisturbed. It seemed so real. She knew her response had been real. A hallucination brought on by fever. Possibly. She felt better than she did yesterday. Maybe she’d had a fever after all. A twenty-four hour bug.
“Jenn?” she called out.
Morgan walked into the main room of the cabin. Jenn’s door was closed. She eased open the door in case Jenn was still asleep. The quilt was pulled taut, the pillows positioned just so. Jenn’s bag sat on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Jenn?” Morgan looked in the bathroom and then walked into the kitchen. A crisp piece of paper, folded in half, rested in front of the coffee pot.
I didn’t want to wake you. You dropped like a brick last night. I got an urgent call. Don’t I always? It shouldn’t take too long. Hope to be back by late afternoon. You’ve got my cell number. There’s plenty of food. Relax. You need it. Love, Jenn
****
Jasmine blinked once, trying to focus out of her swollen eyes. She licked her lip and tasted her own blood. Her arm was numb, pulled taut over her head and chained to a timber. Her other arm lay at her side, useless, the excruciating pain intensifying when she attempted the slightest movement. The dirt and rocks beneath her dug into her flesh. The cold from the ground seeped into her bones. She shivered and listened. How long had she been out? Was she alone? Please, God, let her be alone. Using her bare feet to gain leverage, she tried to push herself up into a sitting position. She felt the dirt grate between the cheeks of her bare buttocks and winced. She shifted her legs and felt the drying stickiness pull on her thighs. Tears fell from her swollen eyes. Her breath, when she inhaled, was shaky—shallow. Her chest hurt. The torn sleeve of her blouse pulled on her injured arm. Her breast was tender. A shuffling sound came from somewhere nearby. She stopped moving and tried to remain very still, listening. She whimpered, forced her lips together to keep the sound from escaping. She didn’t want to draw his attention. Then she remembered—he was gone—at least for a while. Blackness began to overtake her. She didn’t care. She let it.
****
Morgan scooped fresh coffee grounds into the basket, pressed the button, and sat at the breakfast bar, anticipating the aroma.
Poor Jenn
. Jim had seemed so understanding, so encouraging. He wasn’t the first that’d had trouble being second to Jenn’s dedication. He probably wouldn’t be the last. A sense of pride welled inside for her friend. Jenn had sworn she would help the helpless and she had. She hadn’t lost a woman or family yet. She’d had to do some convincing at times, but she was the best at that.
She picked up her phone. It was off. She went to her suitcase, then her purse. No charger.
Damn
. In her hurry, she must have left it in Ruthorford. A chill went through her. No car. No phone. She looked around. No house phone. This was just great.
Gurgles from the coffee pot beckoned. She grabbed a mug, inhaled the rich aroma as it filled the mug, and carried it over to browse through haphazardly arranged books. She picked up one by Jane Austen.
Morgan pored through Jane Austen, took a long shower, lounged on the dock, and meandered around the lot. She didn’t want to stray too far since she couldn’t find a key. Not that she feared anyone breaking in. They were pretty isolated. She didn’t have a clue how far the next cabin was. And, with the school year having started, she doubted many families were heading up this way.
Dorian kept drifting into her thoughts. When she was sitting on the dock, the skin on her arms tingled, like it did sometimes when he would walk near her. She looked around, half expecting him to come sauntering down the path—wanting him to come sauntering down the path. It took some real concentration for her to remember why she’d left—his lack of faith in her. As the day progressed, Morgan replayed the conversations over in her mind. She could see where he would be concerned, not knowing her. But, they had just made love, for God’s sake. And it had been making love, not just sex. The word “love” played across her mind. She tested it, weighed it, then forced it from her mind.
When Jenn didn’t appear by dinner, she finished off the chicken salad and put a movie in the DVD. Forced relaxation wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It didn’t take long for her to drift off. She awoke to the sound of gravel crunching outside.
“Jenn must be back,” she said softly and was startled at the sound her voice made in the quiet. She got up and looked outside. The Tahoe wasn’t in the drive. She glanced around. Maybe she’d dreamed it. She locked the front door, closed all the blinds, and turned the movie back on. Her ears listened for every sound and her heart pounded at the slightest noise.
When the lights flickered, Morgan froze. She hadn’t heard thunder. Grabbing the clicker, she switched from the DVD to the television. The room plunged into darkness.
Oh God
. She listened. She heard bugs chirping outside. Her eyes began adjusting to the blackness. She blinked. She began to take in the room.
Shit
. She remembered her eyes glowed. She eased off the couch and tried to remember where she’d put her purse. Those stupid sunglasses would shield her eyes. Finding it on the bar chair, she fumbled around inside until she felt the glasses.
She heard a creak.
Morgan squatted to the floor, shoving on the glasses. Everything went dark. Damn it, the glasses screwed up her night vision. She moved on her hands and knees around the bar.
Another creak. She stilled, listening.
A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Before she could scream, a cloth covered her mouth. She struggled and was jerked backwards, twisting her foot beneath her. Pain shot up her leg, yet she couldn’t get her leg out from under her. Her limbs felt heavy.
Dorian,
she concentrated every fiber of her being on him.
…help me.
The world fell away.
****
John saw the drink drop from Dorian’s hand, reached out and grabbed it before it hit the ground. Tea splashed across his shirt, yet Dorian remained still, staring off.
“Dorian?” John set the cup down. “Hey, man. You okay?”
Dorian blinked. He looked at John, his brow furrowed. He concentrated, then spoke, “She’s gone.”
“Yeah. That’s why we came to Virginia.”
“No.” Dorian reached out and clasped the other man’s forearm. “She’s gone. Dropped from my radar.” Agitated, he marched back and forth in front of the outside bar where they’d stopped to grab something to eat.
Having been friends with Dorian for most of his life, John knew to wait. Illumination would follow, eventually.
“We’re paired.” Dorian ran his hand through his hair. “I can feel her. I
can’t
feel her.” His wild eyes focused on John.
“Hey, congratulations.” John got the paired part, first.
Dorian grabbed his arm again. “Pay attention, John. I
cannot
feel her.”
The message sank in. “Her parents said she was with Jenn,” he reminded Dorian. They went away to relax. Maybe they got drunk and she passed out.”
Dorian shook his head. “No, this is different.”
John pulled the small phone from his pocket and searched through numbers. “Jenn gave me a number to call if I needed to reach her.” He dialed. When it went to voice-mail, he ran through some more numbers and dialed another one. “This is the security number for the home where Meadow’s staying.”