Chapter 21

McCoy awoke with the immediate knowledge of two things: It was Saturday, so he didn’t have to get up for work, and Morgan was sleeping beside him. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look across the king-size bed. She was laying only a couple of feet from him with one arm under her head and the other on top of the covers across her stomach. Her dark eyelashes were a noticeable contrast against her pale cheeks. He rolled over and watched her as she slept, thinking that of all the times he had imagined her being in his bed, the circumstances had somehow always been quite different – not that he intended to complain.

After starting some coffee, he showered and put on a pair of jeans and navy blue pullover, then made his way back to the kitchen to read the newspaper. When he had finished the paper and a second cup of coffee, he looked in on Morgan and found her still sleeping. With nothing else to do he sorted mail and paid bills, then began to tidy up the apartment, all the while occasionally peeking into the bedroom. When the grandfather clock chimed eleven times he had finally run out of things to keep himself occupied, so he picked a book up from a stack on his desk. Before settling down to read, he stuck his head in the bedroom to check on Morgan again. To his amusement he found her sitting much the same way he had the night before on the bathroom floor – elbows propped on her knees, head in her hands.

“Good morning,” he greeted her as he entered the bedroom.

Without making the slightest movement, Morgan responded, “I don’t think so.”

He grinned as he came to a stop beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I went head to head with a very large truck. But I think I’ll live.”

“Well, I’d say that’s an improvement over last night when you asked me to let you die in peace,” he pointed out.

She frowned in concentration. “I don’t remember saying anything like that.”

Wondering if she remembered the part of their conversation that had followed, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans and asked, “Don’t you remember sitting on floor of the bathroom and talking last night?”

Shaking her head tentatively she replied, “I remember getting sick but not much of what happened afterwards. Did I do or say anything I should now be regretting?”

He gave her a smile. “Not at all, although you did mention something about never touching another drop of alcohol for the rest of your life.”

“Well at least I’m consistent. I definitely haven’t changed my mind about that.”

“How about a couple of aspirin?”

“Pass,” she answered, rubbing her neck. “I don’t think my stomach can take it. And if there’s even the slightest possibility of throwing up again, I’ll keep the headache.”

“Let me help with that,” he offered, sitting down behind her carefully so that he wouldn’t move the bed too much. “I’ve been told I have magic fingers,” he boasted, slipping his hands under her hair on either side of her neck.

“Is that so?” Morgan queried skeptically, folding her arms and resting them on her knees.

As he began to gently massage her neck, he replied matter-of-factly, “That’s what they tell me.”

She sighed softly and closed her eyes. “I’m not even going to ask who ‘they’ are.” After eliciting a chuckle from him she added, “There is one thing I’d like to know.”

“What is it?” he asked, moving his hands down her shoulders.

“In addition to the alleged conversation we had, other parts of last night are also a little fuzzy. I vaguely remember coming here, but one thing I can’t seem to remember is how I came to be wearing nothing but my underwear and your shirt.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he quickly assured her. “All I did was remove your shoes when I put you to bed. When I came to check on you in the night, I found a trail of clothes from the bed to the bathroom.”

“And you came in the bathroom anyway?” she asked, turning to look over her shoulder. “What if I hadn’t put anything else on?”

Shrugging, he gave her a look of complete innocence. “It was a risk I was willing to take in order to make sure you were okay. I mean, for all I knew you could’ve fallen and hit your head or something.”

“Right!” she said, sounding more than a little disbelieving as she turned back to face forward.

He carefully pressed his thumbs at the base of her skull, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin and hair. “Your muscles are tight. Even without the Scotch it’s no wonder you have a headache.”

“I haven’t run in a couple of days. I always get tense when I don’t run.”

As he moved his hands across her neck, his fingers brushed her earlobe and he felt a rash of chill bumps immediately form on her skin. Behind her he smiled to himself, deciding to file the observation away for future reference.

Morgan bent forward slightly. “My head feels better, thanks. That helped.”

Although he would have liked to continue caressing her warm skin, he instead suggested, “Why don’t you take a hot shower? It’ll make you feel better.”

She nodded. “That does sound good.” Pushing her hair back behind one ear, she asked hesitantly, “Um… Where exactly are my clothes?”

With a smile, he stood up and retrieved them from the chair. “Here you go. I’ll go put on some water for tea while you’re in the shower. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

Nodding again she said, “Thanks.”

***When Morgan emerged from the bedroom dressed in her own clothes once again, McCoy beckoned to her from the kitchen side of the pass-through bar. “Come and sit down. Pick out the kind of tea you want and I’ll get you a cup of hot water.”

As he turned around to do so Morgan approached and slid onto a stool, then selected a tea bag from a boxed assortment.

McCoy placed a mug in front of her along with a small plate. “I also made you some toast. It should be easy on your stomach.”

“Thanks,” she responded. “I do feel a little empty.”

Leaning back against the cabinets, he folded his arms and watched her take a bite of toast while dunking the tea bag. “What do you have planned for the day?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think I’m up to doing much of anything. I had planned to go to my office this morning to prepare for a quick meeting I have tomorrow but I'll go in early to take care of that. The only other thing I had planned was running this afternoon with Abbie since we missed the last couple of days. But I’m going to call her and cancel. I’m absolutely positive that my head will explode if I even walk hard.”

Giving her a smile he advised, “Running may be good for a lot of things but I don’t believe I’d try it with a hang-over.”

Staring into the cup, her expression turned somber. “I never thought in my whole life that I would need advice on how to treat a hang-over.”

On the other side of the bar, he turned and bent forward until his elbows rested on the countertop, so that he was eye-level with her. “You had a rough day yesterday. Your reaction was understandable.”

Without looking at him she admitted, “It isn’t something I’ve ever done before, though. After seeing what drinking did to my Dad… to my family… I’ve never wanted to deal with my problems in that way.”

“I know you haven’t. But everyone is entitled to go off the deep end once in a while. You can’t beat yourself up over it. Doing so once doesn’t mean it will become a habit.”

She glanced up at him hesitantly. “I don’t know if I said this last night, but I’m really sorry for everything I put you through, Jack. I’m sure when you asked me to meet you at your office that isn’t what you expected.”

“I’m the last person in the world you have to apologize to about that,” he warranted.

“Well, I appreciate how you took care of me. It was really nice of you.”

“Anytime. I was glad to do it.” Looking into her eyes he suggested, “Since you don’t have any other plans, why don’t we spend the day together? We could go see a movie or something.”

“Aren’t you tired of me yet?” she asked after taking a tentative sip of hot tea. “I’m surprised you haven’t already booted me out of the door this morning.”

“Now why would I want to do a foolish thing like that? Even with a hang-over, you’re pretty good company,” he noted teasingly.

She studied him silently for a few seconds before replying, “All I can think about is how good it would feel to go home, change clothes, and curl up on the couch.”

“If you don’t feel up to going out we could always rent a movie and watch it over at your place. That way you can curl up on the couch and I can make you that soup I promised last night.” He decided to take her slight smile as agreement and stood up straight. “I’ll call a cab and have it meet us at the video store around the corner in thirty minutes or so. I’d offer to drive but my motorcycle is still at the office and my car is in the shop until Monday for a tune-up.”

“Do you want me to take you to pick up your motorcycle after we get to my place? I don’t mind and it is my fault that you had to leave it behind in the first place.”

“Maybe later this afternoon when you’re feeling better. There’s no rush. It can even wait until tomorrow or Monday. According to the newspaper, it may rain this afternoon so let’s just play it by ear.” He walked from the kitchen and added, “I’ll call the cab while you finish your tea. Your shoes are in the bedroom beside the nightstand.”

***“I don’t care that it isn’t real. Scary movies still give me nightmares,” Morgan declared as she and McCoy stepped from the elevator into her apartment.

“But you’re missing out on so many great ones,” McCoy argued good-naturedly, following suit as she left her shoes by the door.

“It isn’t worth it,” she insisted, continuing to the kitchen. After laying her keys on the counter, she took a tea pot from the cabinet and began to fill it with water. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Nothing right now, thanks,” he answered, laying two DVD’s beside her keys.

“Well, you know where everything is. Help yourself when you do want something. And if you get hungry, there’s egg salad in the fridge.”

“What about you? Would you like some soup now? I forgot to bring any along but my offer to make you something still stands.”

“Soup does sound good,” she agreed. “And I have several cans in the pantry. Any kind is fine with me. Help yourself if you want some, too. I’m going to go change clothes.” She looked down at her sweater. “Oddly enough, I feel like I slept in these.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he smiled.

As she headed for the bathroom, he got up to rummage through the pantry for soup. He had pulled out a can of chicken with noodles when he heard the phone ring. Thinking Morgan would hear it too, he remained in the kitchen and began opening drawers to look for a can opener. When it continued ringing, he looked up and started across the room. Pausing at the bathroom door, he called, “Calea, the phone is ringing. Do you want me to bring it to you?”

From beyond the door she responded, “Would you mind answering it for me? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Sure,” he replied, making his way to the desk. He opened the roll-top, picked up the phone, and answered simply, “Hello.”

A familiar, raspy voice said into his ear, “I’m sorry. I must have dialed the wrong number.”

“Abbie?” McCoy queried. “This is Jack.”

“Jack?” Carmichael asked in obvious surprise. “What are you doing there?”

“Just visiting,” he replied casually.

“Where’s Calea?”

“Changing clothes. She’ll be here in a minute.”

There was a brief pause before she said, “Let me get this straight… You’re in her apartment, answering her phone, while she’s changing clothes? I take it the two of you made up!” she concluded brightly.

“I guess you could say that,” he agreed with a smile. He turned as he heard the door to the bathroom open and saw Morgan approaching, having changed into black leggings and a simple green pull-over. “I’ll let Calea tell you about it. Here she is.” He held the phone out. “It’s Abbie.”

“Oh, great!” Morgan exclaimed under her breath. With his eyes full of amusement, McCoy shrugged only somewhat apologetically as she took it from him.

“Hi, Abbie. What’s up?”

“Well, I was upset with you for not returning my calls last night or this morning, but that all seems rather trivial now that Jack is answering your phone for you,” she said pointedly. “As I recall, a few days ago it wouldn’t have hurt your feelings if he had suddenly dropped off of the planet. Something has obviously happened between the two of you since I last saw you.”

Morgan glanced toward the kitchen where McCoy was heating her soup. “Yeah… Well… It’s kind of a long story.”

“And you can’t talk with Jack there, right?”

“Right,” Morgan quickly agreed.

“No problem. You can fill me in when we run. And I’ll update you on what we did for the building project this morning. What time do you want to meet?”

“About that...” She sighed and continued, “I’m going to have to pass today. I’m not feeling very well. Why don’t we just plan to meet at our regular time on Monday?”

“That’s fine with me but you can’t make me wait two whole days before you tell me what happened with you and Jack,” Carmichael insisted. “Why don’t you call me back after he leaves?”

“I’ll see,” Morgan replied vaguely.

“Well, try,” Carmichael advised. “You know how I hate to wait.”

“See you Monday, Abbie.”

Morgan returned the phone to the desk and closed the roll-top, then joined McCoy in the kitchen.

“That was short,” he noted as she took a cup from the cabinet.

“The last thing in the world I need today is to play twenty questions with Abbie Carmichael,” she grumbled as she poured some tea. “Once a prosecutor, always a prosecutor. When she wants to know something she can be relentless. But I suppose I have no one to blame but myself. I should’ve considered the possibility that she’d call before I allowed you to answer the phone.”

“True,” he agreed with a smile as she carried her tea to the bar. “Your soup is warm. Do you want to eat it in here or at the coffee table so we can watch the movie?”

“The coffee table is fine,” Morgan agreed, picking up her mug and the movies, then leading the way to the living area. “Which one do you want to see first?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. You pick.”

While she slipped a disk into the DVD player and turned on the television, McCoy placed her soup on the coffee table. “Do you need anything else?”

She glanced over her shoulder and replied, “No, that’s fine, thank you. Are you having soup also?”

He shook his head. “I’m going to try your egg salad if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” As he made his way back to the kitchen she added, “There are some homemade rolls in the pantry to eat with it or crackers if you prefer. Help yourself.”

He returned within minutes with his food and settled beside her on the floor. As Morgan fast-forwarded through the previews and credits he commented, “It’s been a long time since I had egg salad. This is great.”

She laid the remote control on the table beside them. “I’m glad you like it.”

They watched the movie silently while they ate. When both were finished, McCoy stood up and gathered their dishes.

“Thanks. I’ll pause the movie,” Morgan offered, reaching for the remote.

“That’s okay,” he responded. “I can still watch.”

When he had placed the dishes in the sink and returned, Morgan had moved to the sofa and was lying on her stomach with one of the pillows under her chin. McCoy sat on the other side of the sectional and stretched his arms across the back.

The movie was more than half over when a movement from Morgan caught McCoy’s eye. He looked over to find her curling up on her side, sound asleep. He reached for the remote and stopped the player, then got up and made his way to the curtain dividing the room. Ducking past it, he took a quilt from Morgan’s rocking chair and returned to place it carefully over her.

He walked to the windows and looked out at the clouds gathering on the distant horizon, wondering how long it would be before the storm hit. With a sigh of contentment, he decided that not even a downpour could dampen his spirits.

***Thunder rumbled insistently in the distance as McCoy looked over the top of the book he was reading to find Morgan stretching lazily.

From his spot on the floor between the sofa and coffee table, he commented, “It’s about time. I was beginning to think you were going to sleep all day and all night.”

Sitting up, she stretched again. “I’m sorry I’m such a lousy host today. I don’t usually fall asleep on my guests.”

Giving her a smile he said, “I’m not really complaining. After last night, I knew you needed the sleep. Do you feel better now?”

She nodded. “I do. My headache is much better.” Taking note of the book in his hand, she asked, “Did you find something to keep yourself occupied?”

“Yes, I did.” He laid it down and reached for another book lying on the coffee table. “You know, you can really tell a lot about people by what they keep on their bookshelves.” He held the book so that the title was facing her and arched his eyebrows. “Star Trek?”

Morgan got up to snatch it from his hand. “Hey, I want you to know that studies have shown some of the most intelligent people in the world read science fiction. So don’t be laughing at me.”

He grinned and shook his head. “I don’t think Star Trek qualifies as real science fiction.”

“You’d be surprised,” she retorted with mock indignation, tossing the book onto the sofa behind him. Stepping over his legs, she walked to the windows and looked out at the cloud-darkened sky. “It looks like the weather forecast was right for a change.”

McCoy stood up and joined her. “I think we’re in for a rainy evening. I guess I’ll have to wait to pick my bike up from the office. Maybe you can give me a ride over there tomorrow afternoon.”

When a minute had passed with Morgan making no reply, he turned and found her studying him intently. Under her silent scrutiny, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

Several seconds more went by before she responded quietly, “Come on. I want to show you something.”

He gave her a curious look and then followed as she led the way across the room to the elevators, where she slipped on her shoes. Once he had done likewise, she continued through the apartment to the bedroom, then the bathroom, toward the large walk-in closet on the far side.

When they entered the closet she asked, “Would you mind grabbing a couple of those folding chairs?” Opening to the door that led out to the roof, she held it for him. “Just set them up anywhere.” She bent down and placed a small block of wood between the door and frame to prevent it from completely closing, explaining as she did, “One time I came out here and the door blew shut. I had to climb down the fire escape and have security let me back into my apartment. It was pretty embarrassing. I make sure I prop it open, now.”

Glancing around cautiously, McCoy set the chairs down on the gravel-covered roof a few feet from the door. “What exactly are we doing out here?” he asked, taking note of the clouds, which seemed to have suddenly grown much closer and more ominous.

He turned to find Morgan regarding him closely again. “I think I mentioned before that I like storms. This is a great place to watch them roll in off of the ocean.”

She sat down cross-legged, looking eagerly at the sky. McCoy slowly sat as well, beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. “Has it ever occurred to you that sitting on a roof when a thunderstorm is approaching isn’t such a good idea?”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” she asked teasingly. “We’ll go inside before it gets too close.”

As thunder rumbled again, he gave her a questioning look. “How close is too close? That sounded close enough for me.”

“Don’t you know the way to tell how far off a storm is? You count from the time you see the lightning to when you hear the thunder. However many seconds it is between the two is how many miles away the storm is. This one is still a good nine or ten miles away.”

“I do know that trick,” he agreed. “I also know it’s notoriously unreliable. A storm cell can move several miles in a minute. That’s not a test I’d like to stake my life on. I was once caught in a thunderstorm in the middle of nowhere while riding my motorcycle. It gave me a healthy respect for lightning and it isn’t an experience I care to repeat.”

Ignoring his concerns, she pointed to the horizon. “Did you see that bolt of lightning? It was huge. If it were a little darker, it would light up the whole sky.” Keeping her eyes fixed on the clouds, she added, “As a kid in Texas, whenever I saw a storm approaching I’d run outside to wait for it if I could get past my mother. We had these huge thunderstorms that moved in off of the Gulf Coast. I loved watching the steaks of lightning arc across the sky, especially at night. I can remember lying in bed in the dark, squeezing my eyes shut, and still being able to see the flashes.”

McCoy silently followed the direction of her gaze, wondering how she could remain so calm. He tried to adopt her attitude, but with each progressively louder rumble he grew more tense. And with each flash of light, he felt more and more like he was an unwitting player in some sort of game that only Morgan understood.

A wave of cooler air washed over them and she inhaled deeply. “You can always tell when it’s going to rain by the way the air smells.”

“In this case, maybe it’s the smell of imminent death,” he noted dryly. At Morgan’s eye-rolling look, he suggested, “Even using your gauge, it’s getting too close for comfort. I counted only eight seconds between the last peal of thunder and bolt of lightning.”

“Not until it reaches six,” she informed him resolutely. “That’s my old record.”

Leaning toward her, he asked, “Is this some sort of game of chicken that you’re playing with me? Because I have to tell you, I don’t have a problem crying ‘uncle’.”

Morgan turned to study him for a moment before saying, “This isn’t something I would normally ask someone to join me in doing, especially considering that the average person would view it as slightly psychotic. But you did say I don’t let anyone too close and that I hide who I really am. I just thought I’d show you a little of the real me, Jack.”

His eyebrows arched. “I thought you didn’t remember the conversation we had last night.”

She shrugged. “It came back to me.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” he acknowledged.

“It’s okay. You were right. I’m not very good at sharing who I am and what I feel. But now that you’ve sat on the roof with me and braved the threat of electrocution, you can’t say I’ve never shared with you.”

McCoy met her gaze unwaveringly. He wasn’t sure if it was something in her tone of voice or the way she was looking at him, but the rush of excitement he suddenly felt caused him to temporarily forget their surroundings. The fact that she had taken his words to heart made him wonder if she had also given some thought to what he had said to her while they were in the cab.

The spell was broken when she stood up and folded her chair. “I’m ready to go back in if you are.”

He nodded slowly and stood as well.

Once the chairs were deposited and Morgan had left her shoes in the closet, she led the way to the kitchen. After McCoy put his own shoes by the elevator, he joined her, still thinking about what she had said.

He was pleasantly jolted from his musing by Morgan asking, “Would you like to stay for dinner? It only seems fair since I ruined your plans last night by falling asleep.”

“Well,” he replied slowly, “I should probably say that you don’t owe me anything for last night and I don’t want you to go to any trouble on my account.” Giving her a teasing smile, he added, “But if I said that, I might talk myself out of a home-cooked meal.”

“It won’t be anything fancy,” she warned.

With a shrug he said, “I’m easy to please. If you make it, I’ll eat it.”

Turning to open the freezer and peer inside, she suggested, “How about salmon? I have some portions that will thaw quickly under the broiler. I can also steam some carrots and make potatoes. They’ll have to be microwaved, though, since I’m getting such a late start.

“Sounds perfect,” he nodded. “I’ll give you a hand. I’m pretty good at nuking potatoes.”

“The job is yours,” she agreed, turning to the refrigerator. “I also have everything on hand to make banana pudding, if you’ll eat some.”

“Mmm. It’s been ages since I had banana pudding. You won’t have to twist my arm to get me to eat that.” As they each set about their individual tasks, he asked, “So what else do you remember about our conversation last night?”

“Bits and pieces,” she replied. “I seem to remember that you were amused at my predicament, which annoyed me a great deal.”

“Sorry about that,” he grinned, sounding less than sincere. “But finding you in my office, under the influence of nearly half a bottle of Scotch, simply wasn’t something I anticipated. And then later, seeing you sitting on the floor of my bathroom looking so miserable, the situation just sort of struck me as funny.”

“Well I’m glad your evening wasn’t totally without entertainment,” Morgan retorted. “I feel so much better now.”

“Oh, it was very entertaining,” he assured her with a nod, “and educational as well. I’ve learned quite a lot about you in the last day and a half.”

“Considering the circumstances, that can’t be good!” she declared.

“On the contrary – it’s been great,” he noted. Shrugging, he added more sedately, “Well… for the most part.”

“For the most part?” she asked curiously.

Turning to face her, he looked into her eyes, his own sparkling with amusement. “I have to admit to a certain amount of disappointment on finding out that you are, of all things, a Trekkie.”

Giving him a stern look she said, “Very funny! You’d better just lay off the Star Trek remarks, Buddy. I know a couple of Klingon moves and I’m not afraid to use them.”

McCoy chuckled as he turned back to the potatoes.

Once everything was almost cooked, he asked, “Do you want to watch the rest of the movie during dinner or after? There’s still over half an hour to go on the one we started.”

“You don’t mind seeing it again?”

“I didn’t finish watching it. When I saw that you had fallen asleep, I turned it off. We can pick it up from where you last remember.”

“All right. But why don’t we save it for after dinner? I was thinking we might watch the storm while we’re eating.”

“As long as it’s not from the roof,” he warned.

Morgan flashed him a bright smile. “I had in mind watching while we sat at the coffee table, but I think I like your idea better.”

“I’m not surprised,” he retorted. “Do you have any candles? We could light a couple and turn off the lights. Then we’d really be able to see it.”

With a slow nod, she answered, “I think I may have one or two around here somewhere that I keep for when the power goes off. If you’ll check the fish, I’ll see if I can find them.”

As she turned and disappeared around the corner past the curtain, he peeked into the oven.

When she returned, she set two votive holders with candles on the bar, then began searching through a drawer. “I should have some matches or a lighter in here somewhere.”

“I’ll look for that. You check the fish. I think it’s ready.”

Within minutes, they were both seated on cushions on the floor across the coffee table from each other. The room was bathed in soft, flickering light from the candles, punctuated frequently by flashes of lightning from the on-going storm. Gusts of rain occasionally pelted the windows and thunder rumbled as clouds blanketed the city.

“With all of these windows, how do you sleep when there’s a storm?” he asked. “You don’t even have blinds or drapes you can close. Doesn’t it keep you awake?”

“It doesn’t really bother me. The worst of it usually passes over fairly quickly.”

“Just why is it that you have such an affinity for storms, anyway?”

She grew thoughtful for a moment before explaining, “Well, when I was a kid, my greatest fear was that someone would kidnap me and I would never see my family again. Whenever we would go somewhere, I’d stick close to my mother’s side. I’d either hold onto to her or my brother for dear life. I was always sure someone was lurking around, waiting for the opportunity to grab a little kid like me. But it was especially bad at night. We didn’t have locks on the doors, let alone the windows, so I was afraid someone would sneak in when my parents were asleep. Every night, I’d lie awake in bed, listening for sounds of someone coming into the house – except for those nights when there were thunderstorms. I figured no one would be willing to brave being struck by lightning to try to snatch me. On those nights, I slept well. I also slept well when I heard coyotes howling because I thought everyone else in the world would think they were wolves and be afraid to risk running into one.” Morgan smiled slightly and shrugged self-consciously. “Kid logic. It all seems kind of silly now.”

McCoy had watched her as she spoke, mesmerized by the way she looked in the candlelight.

“It doesn’t seem silly to me,” he acknowledged quietly. “It sounds like you spent quite a bit of time being afraid. Did something happen when you were a child to make you feel that way?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I did have a very active imagination as a kid. It’s possible that I overheard something at one time or another that fueled my imaginings and stuck with me. You know how adults sometimes talk about things in the presence of children like they aren’t really there.”

He nodded. “When I was growing up, my youngest sister slept in my parent’s bedroom until she was almost five. She knew nearly as much about their finances as they did. And she didn’t mind sharing the information with anyone who would listen.”

With a smile she noted, “You know what they say about kids being like little sponges. You wouldn’t believe the things Peter and Leslie’s kids tell me when they come over and their parents leave them. One of these days I’m going to record them and show the tape to their parents.”

“That might get their attention,” he agreed.

Growing thoughtful, she said, “There is one other thing that could’ve contributed to my childhood fears. I remember watching a movie at the drive-in once with my parents about a little boy who was kidnapped. Doris Day sang a song in the movie and she was crying. I think it was her little boy that was kidnapped. I was pretty young so I only remember bits and pieces, but maybe that did it.” With a teasing smile, she added, “I told you scary movies give me nightmares.”

“Since I don’t want to be responsible for contributing to your restless nights, I’ll try to remember that,” he promised. “Not to change the subject, but did you and your ex ever think about having children of your own?”

Morgan grew quiet, not answering for a moment while she sipped her tea, then replied, “You know, that’s one of those things I don’t usually talk about.”

Giving her with a warm smile, he assured her, “You should know by now that your secrets are safe with me.”

After studying her plate for a few seconds, she finally explained flatly, “We did when we were first married. The plan was that I would work for a while to establish myself at the firm, then we’d start a family and I would go to part time.” Continuing to avoid his eyes, she added, “By the time I was in a position to do that, I knew I couldn’t bring a child into the marriage. I did have a scare once, but it turned out to be a false alarm. I was in the middle of a difficult trial, barely eating or sleeping, and the doctor said the stress threw my cycle off. It shook me up enough that I decided to do something permanent to prevent anything from really happening. A couple of months later, Frank and I were supposed to go to Colorado for a long weekend with two of the other partners and their families. I begged off, claiming to be sick, and while he was gone I had my tubes tied.”

“Did you tell him?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t allowed to change brands of toothpaste without talking it over with him first, let alone something as major as that. He would’ve been furious if he had found out. When he got back, I told him the doctor said I was still contagious and I slept on the couch until everything was sufficiently healed. About a year later, he decided that I should try to get pregnant. When time went by and nothing happened, he finally stopped bringing it up.”

“Had things been different with the marriage, would you have wanted to have children?”

“I think I would have. I enjoyed my work, but I’ve always thought about raising kids of my own.” Her voice grew quieter as she added, “Some things just aren’t meant to be, though.”

Taking notice of how she was picking at her food, he said, “Well, I think you would’ve made a great mother. You seem to have a way with children.”

Morgan looked up from her plate in mild surprise. With a shy smile, she noted, “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, Jack. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, beaming and pleased with himself. He sipped his iced tea and thought about how drastically things had changed between them in a span of hardly more than twenty-four hours.

He didn’t realize he had been staring at her until she asked, “Is everything all right? You look as though your mind is elsewhere.”

McCoy took another drink before setting down his glass. He wanted to tell her how her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He wanted to tell her how much he had missed her smile…

“I was just listening to the rain and trying to picture you as a little girl,” he finally answered.

Giving him a smile she offered, “I looked like an orphan child. My hair was always a mess and I never wore shoes. I also usually had one animal or another in tow, everything from calves to gophers.”

Nodding, he acknowledged, “Strangely enough, I can actually picture that. I’ll bet you were a tom-boy.”

“I was,” she readily agreed, “much to my mother’s dismay. She wanted a little girl she could dress in lace and ruffles. Instead, I wanted to wear the same clothes as my brother and I kept frogs in my pocket. Although I didn’t mind dressing up once in a while, I wasn’t much of a girly girl.” After pushing her plate slightly to the side, she asked, “What about you? What were you like as a kid?”

“Well, when I was young my favorite game was cops and robbers. Several of my friends’ fathers were also cops and we would play that for hours on end. As a teenager I could usually be found shooting baskets behind the school down the block from where I lived, with a group of boys who were a little older than me. They let me hang out with them since I was always tall for my age. I tried to stay out of the house as much as possible.”

“I know what you mean about that,” she nodded. “Did you ever run with the wrong crowd?”

He shook his head. “I pulled my share of adolescent pranks, but for the most part I tried to stay out of trouble. My old man would’ve skinned me alive if I had been caught doing anything seriously wrong. And with his being a cop, he would’ve found out. There’s nowhere I could’ve gone in the whole city that it wouldn’t have gotten back to him.”

“My brother and I could never get away with anything, either. The community we lived in was so small, everyone knew everyone else. And then, of course, there was my father's temper. When you live with an alcoholic parent, you quickly learn that the safest course of action is to not be seen or heard. Like your father, mine wouldn’t have tolerated his kids disgracing the family.”

“Sounds like we have quite a bit in common,” McCoy observed with a dry smile. He sat holding his glass, wondering at what seemed to be a new level of intimacy between them.

Motioning to his empty plate, Morgan asked, “Are you ready for dessert yet?”

Patting his stomach, he noted, “I think I’d better wait a bit.”

She stood and picked up her plate. “Feel free to help yourself to some later. I don’t want it lying around here, staring at me every time I open the fridge. In fact, you can take whatever is left tonight home with you if you’d like.”

Following her to the kitchen with his own dishes, he said, “If it tastes as good as it looks, there might not be any to take. I’ve never had banana pudding with coconut cookies for the crust. My mother always made it with vanilla wafers.”

“The coconut adds a little variety. It’s pretty hard to mess up banana pudding, though. There isn’t much to it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he contended teasingly.

Once they had put everything away, they settled back on the sofa to finish the movie. As they watched in silence, McCoy found it difficult to concentrate. In his head, he went over the events of the evening and tried to interpret what he considered to be signals on Morgan’s part. He wanted to think their spending the day together was an indication that he was slowly winning her over rather than that she was merely trying to make up for what she perceived to have been an inconvenience to him the night before. He wished she were easier to read and that he knew where he stood.

When the movie was over, Morgan got up to stretch. “That was really good. It’s been a while since I took the time to sit down and watch a movie from start to finish. I’m glad you suggested doing this. Do you want to watch the second one now as well?”

Watching her cat-like stretches, he wondered what she would do if he were to simply stand up and take her into his arms.

“Jack?” she queried after a few seconds. “You’ve got that far-away look again. Am I keeping you from something?”

“Not at all,” he quickly assured her. “I was just trying to remember the last time I’ve enjoyed a day so much. I’m glad we did this, too.”

“And what’s the verdict on the second one? Do you want to watch it now or save it for another time?”

“I don’t mind watching it now, unless you’d rather wait.”

Morgan popped the disk out and reached for the second. “I’m game,” she agreed.

“First, though, I’m going to get some dessert,” he decided, heading for the kitchen. “Do you want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m still full from dinner.”

He returned moments later to find Morgan sitting cross-legged on the sofa where the two sections curved together. He sat a couple of feet away and said, “You were right about the coconut cookies. This is wonderful. I’ll have to remember that if I ever decide to make it on my own.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s about the quickest, easiest dessert I know how to make.”

Seeing her eye his bowl, he scooped up a spoonful of pudding and held it out. “Here – taste it.”

Morgan leaned forward and took the offering. With a nod, she agreed, “It did turn out good. Now you definitely have to take it with you. Otherwise, I’ll have to run extra laps to work it off.”

“Well, since I wouldn’t want you to have to do that, I guess I could force myself to take it off of your hands,” he grinned between bites. “Want some more?”

She shook her head. “No thanks, that was enough.”

“If you change your mind, you’d better get some while you have the chance. I’m not sure there’s going to be much left for me to take home.”

By the time the second movie was over, the lightning had ceased flashing and the rain had turned into a light drizzle. McCoy checked his watch as Morgan reached for the remote to eject the DVD.

“I think I liked the second movie even better than the first,” she acknowledged.

“So did I,” he agreed. “You know, we should make this a habit. Next time we can meet at my place and I’ll make dinner.”

“Mmm, I like that idea.” She got up and placed the disk back in its container. McCoy moved to stand next to her and she handed both to him. “Don’t forget, they have to be in by Monday.”

“I won’t forget,” he assured her with a smile.

Morgan turned and led the way to the kitchen where she took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Can I get you anything else to drink?”

“No, thank you,” he replied, placing the movies on the counter and an empty glass in the sink. Although he hoped she would disagree, he turned to face her and said, “It’s getting late. I should probably go and let you get some sleep.”

With a nod she observed, “As much as I slept today I shouldn’t be tired, but I am.”

“After a good night’s sleep, you’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget the pudding,” she reminded him, taking the bowl from the refrigerator and placing it on the counter top.

“Oh, I definitely won’t forget that.” He picked up the DVD’s and bowl and began to walk slowly toward the elevator. “How long will you be at your office tomorrow?”

Morgan leaned a shoulder against the wall as he began to put on his shoes. “I don’t know. Most of the morning, probably.”

“Do you like jazz?”

“Sure, if it’s bluesy jazz. I don’t much care for the wild stuff.”

“Tomorrow afternoon there’s going to be a couple of bands playing down in the Village. I’ve heard one is really good. Why don’t we check them out after you finish at the office?”

“I was planning to tackle a mountain of laundry tomorrow afternoon.”

“The laundry can wait,” he advised good-naturedly. “We could both use a break.”

“It does sound tempting. But I thought you wanted me to take you to get your bike.”

He huffed out an exasperated breath and smacked his forehead with his hand. “I completely forgot about that. I also forgot that I don’t have my car here. I’ll need to call a cab to get home tonight.”

Morgan shook her head. “You don’t have to do that. Take my car. I won’t need it. Ann is working with me tomorrow. I’ll call and have her pick me up on her way in. When I’m finished, I’ll give you a call and we can decide what to do from there.”

“I don’t want to put you out…”

“You won’t be,” she assured him, retrieving her keys from the kitchen counter. She removed the car key from the ring and handed it to him. “Besides, it’s the least I can do after everything I put you through last night.”

McCoy accepted the key from her, then pocketed it. “I already told you that you don’t owe me anything for what little I did last night. I was happy to be of help.”

Looking down into her eyes, he couldn’t seem to make himself turn around and leave. And she was standing so close, looking up at him, making no effort to move away. He thought about how easy it would be to lean down and…

“Jack?” she queried softly.

His voice was equally quiet. “Yes?”

“How long do you think he has?”

The muscle in his jaw tightened involuntarily. He knew exactly what she was referring to and it was the last thing in world he wanted to even think about at that moment.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he replied flatly, “If he doesn’t change his mind in the next sixty days before the option to appeal runs out, he could have as much as two years or as little as nine months. It all depends on the decision handed down by the Department of Corrections after they consider all the facts. They’ve been steadily shortening the length of time prisoners wait on death row. Of course, most of those prisoners file appeals and get extensions anyway, so the date doesn’t always mean much.”

Morgan sighed and looked at the floor. “I don’t think I can get Eric to change his mind about appealing. Right now he feels like the sooner it’s all over with, the better.”

McCoy regarded her quizzically, wondering why she would even want to try to change his mind. Although he would rather have avoided the subject altogether, since he couldn’t he decided he may as well lay his cards on the table. “Calea, in a case like this, where there are several grieving families involved, I sometimes put my two cents worth in with the Department of Corrections to try to speed things along. Those families need closure so they can move on with their lives, as far as that’s possible after losing a child. But in a case where I need a defendant’s cooperation on other cases, I would normally offer to not oppose an appeal of the sentence in exchange for information. In your client’s case, if he’s really serious about not wanting to drag things out any longer than necessary, I could see what I can do to speed things along, the same as if he were being uncooperative.”

With a reluctant nod she noted, “I suppose I could mention that to him, but only after I’m satisfied that he’s thoroughly considered letting me file an appeal. I want to make sure he understands that once the time limit is up, there’s no turning back.”

“Well, he has options if he truly wants to end things more quickly.”

“I can’t remember if I mentioned this last night, but he’s being transferred to Attica Monday afternoon. So if you want to catch him before he leaves Riker’s, we’ll have to meet with him first thing that morning.”

“I’ll call Serena tomorrow and let her know. I’ll also let Lieutenant Van Buren know about it. Since Briscoe and Green worked the case, she may want them to be there as well.”

Morgan made her way to the elevator. “Let me know what time everyone decides on. My morning is pretty open on Monday.”

“I will,” he promised. “Maybe after we’re finished we can have lunch together.”

“That sounds fine as long as I’m back at the office by 2:00. I have an appointment then,” she explained, pushing the call button for the elevator.

As the door opened, McCoy smiled and said, “Then it’s a date. Call me tomorrow when you finish work.”

“I will. Thanks again for everything last night. And I really enjoyed today. ”

“I thoroughly enjoyed it as well. Dinner was wonderful, as usual, and so was the company.”

“Good night, Jack. Drive safely.”

“Good night, Calea. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added, stepping into the elevator.

As the door closed, he saw her lift her hand in a quick wave. He was still smiling when the door opened and he left the elevator to head for the parking garage.

***McCoy tried one last time to move the seat of Morgan’s small car back farther, so that he didn’t feel as though his chin was resting on his knees. Finally reaching behind it with one hand while firmly gripping the steering wheel with other, he pulled a key map binder out that had been stuck under it and was then able to slide it back to a more comfortable position.

And he thought about the time he had spent with her, how it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

Despite the relationship taking what he perceived as small steps forward that evening, her past was always there, looming between them like an invisible yet undeniably solid barrier. Just when he was sure he had overcome it, he would run smack into it again. But he was convinced she was worth the effort. And it was time he let her know that as well. He only had to figure out a way to do so that wouldn’t send her running scared.

He reached for the radio and turned up the volume when a familiar song caught his attention. And as he listened to the words, he thought about how much they reminded him of the woman whose company he had just left.

Chapter 22