Epilogue - Jack
Two weeks later, Jack held Mister Rocket in his arms and watched Young Tommy’s SUV trundle out of the parking lot of the feed and grain and into the cold, sunshine-filled morning.
In the cushy front seat was his passenger, Mabel, who was off to the hospital in Billings for some tests, which would require an overnight stay. Hence, Jack had volunteered to take care of Mister Rocket until the following morning.
At Jack’s feet was a round, fluffy rose-colored dog bed.
Next to it was a large black-and-white checkered tote bag that contained a plastic tub of dog food, a dog food bowl, a metal water bowl, a packet of dog snacks, a soft dog brush, a worn towel to be used to wipe Mister Rocket’s feet after he’d been outside in the snow, no less than two collars, a regular one and a harness, along with a short leash, and a retractable leash.
“Is he moving in?” Morgan asked. He stood in the landing, fingers flexing around his cane, and was just about glaring at the dog.
“It’s the least we can do,” Jack said, soothing Mister Rocket with scritches to his neck.
“It’s the most we can do,” Morgan said in response.
“We talked about this and you agreed,” Jack said, feeling stubborn. “Besides, it’ll be fun to have him here, and it’s only overnight. Right?”
“He shouldn't be allowed in the store,” Morgan said, gesturing with his cane.
“He’s not going to pee on anything,” Jack said, affronted.
“It’s not that,” Morgan said, then he hesitated. “There are sharp things he might get into that he shouldn't.”
“You’re right,” Jack said. “I’ll shut the door to the store, and we can keep an eye on him better that way.”
“You can keep an eye on him,” Morgan said. “I’ve got work to do.”
As Morgan turned to go back into the office, Jack wanted to go to him. To cup Morgan’s face in his hands and kiss him and let him know that he was loved.
Part of the problem was that Morgan had been consistent in his exercise and had finally weaned himself off the Oxy, but was still feeling the final effects of the withdrawal.
In addition, the barometric pressure was falling, which meant that another storm was barreling in on them.
Morgan’s knee felt it most keenly, and he’d woken up aching.
Which made him grumpy. The charge of watching after Mabel’s beloved dog was added to that, so all in all it’d been a difficult morning.
But, sticking to his promises, Morgan had, each morning for the past two weeks, taken a shower, gotten dressed, and walked around, going up and down the passage in the apartment, and then up and down the stairs, slowly, to get the blood flowing and to loosen his muscles.
He’d taken Tylenol with his breakfast, and asked where the heating pad was for his knee.
He’d not shirked any of these self-care tasks, and Jack knew it was because he wanted to stay off the Oxy and to encourage his body to heal. Which meant moving around. Eating regular meals. Showering every day.
He’d also taken over doing the dishes and the laundry, as well as writing grocery lists and paying the bills. Which left Jack with the cooking and the shopping. And the floors, which, in spite of them both being careful to wipe their feet after coming in from the outdoors, were perpetually dirty.
With all his activity, Morgan looked better.
Jack had always thought Morgan a handsome man, but now he moved around more instead of just sitting slumped in a chair.
His hair was glossy, and his eyes were a vivid blue.
And when he looked at Jack, his expression was bright, as though he were imagining taking Jack in his arms and kissing him all over.
Which made Morgan’s difficult, pain-filled moments worth it. They could get through this phase of Morgan’s health if they just kept going.
The fact that Jack had offered to look after Mister Rocket without checking in with Morgan first had been a bump in the road.
They’d quarreled the day before, a short, heated conversation right after Jack had gotten off the phone with Mabel after offering to babysit her beloved furbaby.
Morgan had objected, and just as Jack had been about to say something about how the apartment above the feed and grain was his home, too, Morgan had taken a breath and gone quite still.
“You can go anywhere and do anything you please,” Morgan said, starting slowly as if gathering his thoughts. “You can invite anyone over anytime you like. But couples talk about things.” He gestured in the space between them, as though to connect them. “We’re a couple.”
“Yes, we are,” Jack said.
“I don’t understand your affinity for this dog, and I do not care for dogs.” Morgan sighed and thumped his cane. “But this is Mabel’s dog, and we want to be good neighbors. I just wish you’d asked me first.”
“‘m sorry,” Jack said, and he meant it. He was new to being part of a couple, so a lot of how to live with a man he was in love with was new to him. “I will next time.”
That they’d spent the better part of the last two weeks sometimes in bed, but mostly on the futon with the fire blazing merrily away in the cast-iron stove, had been the icing on a very delicious cake. Which made moments like this one a jagged counterpart.
“I really am sorry,” Jack said now. “I guess I got excited about being able to help Mabel, since she bakes for us all the time.”
“And excited to have a dog around,” Morgan said, though he didn’t seem upset about it the more they talked. “But it’s not sleeping with us.”
“You got it,” Jack said. Then he moved close to kiss Morgan, and the quarrel ended. Even if it had started right back up the second Mabel and Young Tommy left, and Morgan was stomping into his office as though paperwork was the only nice thing that was going to happen to him that day.
Jack watched him go and put Mister Rocket gently down in the landing, closed the door to the store, hefted the tote bag and went up the stairs, making kissy noises so the dog would follow him.
He wasn’t sure how Mister Rocket would handle being in a new place without his familiar human, but Jack figured if he acted like this was normal, then Mister Rocket would, too.
Once in the kitchen, he laid out the dog bowls, filled the water bowl, placed the tote bag on the counter, and grabbed a treat from the packet.
He sat at the kitchen table and, with a quick pat to his knee, Mister Rocket was in his lap, a warm weight, panting happily as his claws dug into Jack’s thighs.
“Now you be good, Mister Rocket,” Jack said, giving the dog the treat. “You won’t be able to go into the store because the door is closed, and don’t go into Morgan’s office, either. Okay?”
He sat there for a good while, petting the dog, and enjoying the warmth of the kitchen, and the sunshine streaming in through the windows over the sink.
Sometimes he felt rather like he’d been a wild dog, quickly tamed by warmth and food and, especially, Morgan.
His touches. Those kisses. The intensity with which Morgan looked at him. As though Jack was his whole world.
This was his life now, and it was very good.
The feed and grain was experiencing what Morgan called a soft launch.
The store was open and ready for business, even though it wasn’t very busy yet.
There was a string of jingle bells on the front door now, and it was Jack’s job, when the bells rang, to go down the store to wait on the customers, when they showed up.
Often, Jack thought it really wasn’t necessary because everyone in Hysham was so honest, they could take what they wanted from the shelves.
They’d probably either leave money on the counter and not ask for change, or write an old-fashioned check, or leave a scribbled note that they’d pay later.
But, when he’d mentioned this to Morgan, mostly joking, Morgan had laughed but figured it’d be better for someone to be in the store, in case the customer needed help.
This discussion had then led up to a talk about Jack’s salary, a few nights earlier as they sat at the kitchen table after dinner.
“If you paid me, wouldn't that make me your kept man?” Jack had said, his hand to his chest as though shocked.
“I will keep you,” Morgan said sternly. “I will keep you forever. But.” He shook his head.
“If you work in the store, you will be paid for that work. If you make a delivery, you get paid for that. I don’t want you working for free.
You deserve to get paid so you can have your own money, and also, I’m putting the household budget in your hands.
So you need your own bank account, and I’ll set up an account for the house.
You and I will both have access to that, but you’re in charge of it. ”
“Oh,” Jack said, a tad overcome. “A joint account? Are we married?” He was trying to make a joke out of it, but Morgan blushed hard.
“Soon as I can manage it,” Morgan said, giving Jack a side-eye glance. “You’re horrible at letting me surprise you, you know that, don’t you?”
At that, Jack had gently slid into Morgan’s lap, hugged his neck hard, and kissed Morgan all over his face.
“I wanted us to get married in the Grange once I had it rebuilt,” Morgan said, his eyes bright, his arms slipping around Jack’s waist. “But that’s going to take too long, so even though I’d like to get down on one knee, and I can’t, but—will you marry me?”
“Of course, yes,” Jack said. At which point, Morgan had pulled from his jean’s pocket a black velvet box. With both hands around Jack’s waist, Morgan had opened the box with a flick of his thumb and held it aloft. The ring was a beautiful gold band with three stripes and polished smooth.
“That green one is moss, the silverish one is tungsten, and the brown one is a special kind of wood from Hawaii,” Morgan said, pointing at each band in turn. “When I saw it online, I thought of you and all your travels.”