Chapter 36
jack
“That’s enough for now,” Jack said after watching Morgan make a few phone calls. He took the phone and ledger away.
“It’s going to take a while to contact them all,” Morgan said, a wry smile curving his mouth, fingers spread on the tabletop.
“But there are so many people’s livelihoods tied up in this cycle.
” He made a circle in the air with his finger.
“I can’t sell the store,” he continued. “The town, the community, would die if that happened. Maybe in a few years, things will get better, and they can stop relying on this invisible loan. But for now, they need it. Even if it’s extra work. ”
He pushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned on his hand, his elbow propped on the table. “Not what I thought I’d be doing, but here it is.”
“We’ll both be here,” Jack said.
“I appreciate that you said yes to all this,” Morgan said. “But is it really what you want? Maybe you’d rather we go to the coast and both buy those hot dogs on the beach.”
“We could do that,” Jack said. “But maybe we do this first.” He bent down to kiss Morgan, his fingers in Morgan’s hair, their breaths mingling, ribbons of brightness pulling them closer. “Couch this time?” Jack asked. He snorted when Morgan blinked, as though astonished to be asked his preference.
“Not to be a pain,” Morgan said, “but it is easier to get up from the couch.”
“Your wish is my command.” Jack smiled. “And you are a pain,” he added. “A pain and a joy.”
He stepped forward, pausing for a moment when Morgan wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and buried his face against Jack’s belly. Jack could feel the heat of Morgan’s cheek, the way he clutched at Jack as though Jack had been in flight and Morgan wanted him still.
“Let’s go,” he said, leaning down to whisper into Morgan’s hair, to kiss the top of his head. “I’ll build us a fire real quick, so you won’t catch a chill.”
“Stop fussing.” Morgan leaned back to look up at Jack. “Why are you always fussing?”
“Because I love you,” Jack said. “Now get up. Get moving. Into the parlor so I can put my hands all over you. Will you let me?”
“Yes,” Morgan said. “Always.”
It was later, though not quite dinnertime by the time Jack opened his eyes, warm all over, tucked inside the curve of Morgan’s arms as they lay on the futon.
The bed had been too far away, and the fire in the cast-iron stove had lit the parlor the way it would have the walls of a cave.
Now the flames were coals, low and gray, behind the diamond-shaped glass.
Jack propped himself on his elbows and tugged the quilt up to cover Morgan’s chest. He was just about snoring and relaxed all the way through, and he smelled so good, Jack wanted to burrow inside him.
So he did that, kind of did that, nuzzling Morgan’s neck, and all the while he wanted to wake Morgan up because he was hungry.
“Hey,” he said. “Hey.” A buzz of a whisper in Morgan’s ear, just enough to get through to him.
Morgan woke, eyes wide, and his arms went around Jack’s neck and pulled him close. “Tell me that today wasn’t a dream.” He kissed Jack’s temple. “That it’s different now.”
“It’s different now,” Jack agreed obligingly.
In the back of his mind there was a glimmer, an image of where Blue and Star might be. Maybe they’d made it through the storms and were now wading in salty water, not thinking about Nimble at all. He had no idea and didn’t want to know.
“It’s different, and I’m starving,” he said. He shifted in Morgan’s arms, sliding his palm across Morgan’s belly, and felt grumbles of hunger. His fleeting idea of another round of them tumbling beneath the blankets evaporated. “How’s your knee?”
Morgan looked up at him with dark eyes, firelight reflecting there, waves of shadow on his skin as the scent of smoke swirled in the air.
“I’m starting my exercises tomorrow, I swear,” he said. “So we can do more than just mess around.”
“I don’t mind,” Jack said. “It’s all good to me.”
With a sigh and a grunt, Morgan tried to sit up. Jack helped him the rest of the way and, on his hands and knees, gave Morgan a good, solid kiss.
“I didn’t get anything out to thaw for dinner,” Jack said. “There’s got to be a pizza place in town.”
“There is,” Morgan said grumpily. “Everybody will be there. It’ll be crowded.”
“Then we’ll order takeout and bring it back.”
Jack didn’t listen to any of the other reasons Morgan thought it was a bad idea, because it was a good idea. They hadn’t gotten their pizza in Billings the day they got stuck in the blizzard, so the world owed them pizza.
He helped Morgan stand and simply continued with his plan, like it was agreed upon between them.
“Coats and boots downstairs,” he said, grabbing the keys from the counter in the kitchen, and then patted Morgan’s behind to make sure he had his wallet. “If we don’t hustle, we’ll be standing and waiting to order.”
He laughed when Morgan frowned, and savored the second, inside of a heartbeat, when the frown turned to a half smile and Morgan grabbed his cane and followed Jack down the stairs.
At the landing, Morgan pulled on his galoshes.
Jack laced up his new boots and made a celebration of putting the tuque on Morgan’s head and the scarf around his own neck.
Then, ready, they marched out into the growing, icy darkness, the sole parking lot light a beacon spreading a wash of blue light over the twilight-dark snow.
They crunched to the truck, and Jack leapt in to start the engine, then dashed back out to make sure Morgan got in okay. Morgan growled as Jack waited on him, then tugged on Jack’s coat to bring him close.
“Thank you,” he said, and kissed Jack’s mouth, then sighed as he settled into his seat. “Fine. I’m ready.”
Once the truck’s engine was warm enough, Jack made his way through town, slowly so Morgan wouldn’t have to keep using the floorboards as brakes, and turned onto Spurling Street to go just a little way past the bank.
For such a small town, the pizza place, in a strip mall with a liquor store, a beauty salon, and, oddly, a candy shop, was hopping. The parking lot was full, and the street was lined with cars for at least two blocks.
“Let me drop you off,” Jack said.
“No, I can walk,” Morgan insisted, giving his cane a good thump.
“You can’t, because the snow melted a little today, and now it’s ice. If I slip, it’s no big deal. But if you’re with me, then you slip, too, and that’s bad. Please let me drop you off.”
“Fine.”
Morgan didn’t have to like it, but for the moment, that’s the way it had to be. Once Morgan got more strength in his knee, he could decide for himself whether traipsing along an ice-covered sidewalk was what he should be doing. For now, the way things were, Jack would make the decision about that.
“Here,” Jack said as he pulled up in front of the pizza place. “Maybe they’ll let you sit inside and wait.”
“Maybe,” Morgan said, grumpy but compliant as he eased out of the truck and made his way to the front door.
Jack could see the steam fogging the glass and the small huddle of people just inside the door, and he wished he’d called ahead, so he wouldn’t have to worry about Morgan standing for too long in the cold, or even getting to order their pizza before it got too late.
Luckily, someone was pulling out of a space in the parking lot, and Jack zipped into it and then hustled to the pizzeria. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by a warm, garlic-smelling cloud. He peered between two people in front of him and scanned the room for Morgan.
It was a small place: two rows of tables lined either side of the room with four-person booths in the center, all done up in red Naugahyde. The floor was red-and-white checked, and there were limp red-and-white-checked half curtains along the bank of windows.
In the back was the kitchen, behind the pass-through lined with pizzas and salads and baskets of breadsticks. Up front was the old-fashioned cash register, where a shapely woman wearing a bright red apron that had flour and grease stains on it stood.
The place was packed, and the chatter was boisterous, and Jack felt a flutter of disappointment. They’d never get a seat, and he still couldn’t find Morgan.
The woman behind the cash register looked at him and waved him over. Thinking she was going to put him on a seating list or turn him away, telling him to call ahead next time, he bent close to hear what she was saying above the din.
“Are you Jack?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’m looking for Morgan Malone. I just dropped him off.”
At the end of the first row of booth seats, he noticed Ambrose, Neville, and Maurice stuffing themselves with garlic bread, which they were dipping into a small bowl of red sauce.
They laughed and waved at him, and he felt even more glum about not having thought this through a little better. Morgan had been right. Everyone in town was there, all celebrating being able to get out of their houses and into the only pizza place in town.
“Follow me, please,” the cashier said, to his surprise.
Jack did his best to keep up with her as she made her way past the people standing in line and through an arched doorway, parting a red curtain that he’d not noticed before.
On the other side were eight circular tables, a bank of red-curtained windows, and a wall lined with wine bottles in a built-in wooden rack. This room was a little quieter, though still packed.
Morgan was seated at a table near the front, his cane and coat on a hook on the wall. Jack sat next to him and accepted a plastic-covered menu from the woman in the red apron. She poured some red wine from a jug into a wine glass for him and said, “I’ll be right back to take your orders.”
“How’d you get a seat so fast?” Jack asked, his mouth watering as he glanced at the menu.
“Evidently,” Morgan said, looking bemused, “I am Mr. Malone now.” He put his menu down and leaned closer to Jack.
Jack leaned in to meet him.
“Everybody knows about the loans,” Morgan said, “because, evidently, the folks I’ve called about that ledger turned around and called everyone in town to tell them. Jeannine, the hostess, who I’ve never met, knew all about it. Knew all about me.”
“So you’re famous,” Jack said with a bit of a laugh. “You’ll never have to wait in line for anything again.”
“I’m not going to take advantage of that,” Morgan said, frowning. “I don’t work half as hard as these people.”
“You did tonight, taking this table,” Jack pointed out with some relish.
“Jeannine was going to make a fuss.” Morgan shook his head. “And I was a bit overwhelmed, so I didn’t argue.”
Jack attempted to soothe him by brushing fingertips across his arm and smiled when Morgan relaxed beneath his touch.
“It’s just going to be different now,” Morgan said. “They only like me because I agreed to loan those farmers money.”
“They like you because you’re a good guy,” Jack said stoutly.
Morgan went still and looked at Jack, his blue eyes dark, worry creasing his forehead. Jack wanted to touch him there, to ease the worry from his face, to find the words to convince Morgan that it was going to be okay.
“Don’t be scared,” he said. “And don’t be grumpy.
Let’s order too much pizza and a whole pitcher of beer and get so drunk that Young Tommy has to drive us home, and tomorrow Mabel will call and scold us for being out of control.
Then Ambrose and the guys will come over demanding coffee and donuts, and we’ll have hangovers and feel like shit, but it’ll be our lives. Don’t you see?”
Jack took a breath, ready to start another onslaught of encouragement, then stopped because Morgan was smiling at him.
“I do see,” Morgan said. “When you look at me the way you do. You make me see it, too.”
“Then I’ll just have to keep on looking at you,” Jack said, warm inside his heart, a bubble of happiness filling him. “Now, let’s eat.”
They did what Jack had proposed: eating an entire extra-large pizza and guzzling not one but two pitchers of beer. After which Jeannine and Morgan had an argument about the bill, while Jack asked the nearest waitress to call a cab, which she did.
In the end, Morgan won and handed Jeannine his credit card, only both he and Jack forgot she had it, and she had to chase after them to return it when they went out into the parking lot to wait for the taxi.
A little bit drunk, hanging on each other and laughing, not feeling the cold, not one little bit.
“Is it snowing?” Jack asked, looking up at the sky, which looked like it was full of white dots.
“No,” Morgan growled as he slung himself into the back seat of the taxi, its tailpipe chuffing smoke. “Get in, it’s freezing.”
The taxi dropped them right in front of the feed and grain. Jack hauled Morgan out and kept him from slipping, then reached into his wallet for one of the twenties Morgan had given him early on and never asked for back. Early on, when they’d not known or trusted each other.
“Here,” Jack said. “Keep the change. Owen, is it?”
“Yes, sir,” Owen said. “Stay warm.”
Before going inside, they paused under the single light shining down like an icy halo. It was definitely snowing now, the white dots turning into true flakes that danced downward to join the snow already on the ground, briefly balancing on their edges before settling into the drifts.
“Say it again,” Jack said. “Just one more time.”
“I’ll say it as many times as you like,” Morgan said, swaying a little. “As many times as I please. All the time.”
“Just say it.”
“I love you, Jack.” Morgan brushed his cold nose against Jack’s. “And I always will.”
That sounded pretty perfect to Jack.