Epilogue - Morgan #2
“I can do that,” Morgan said. “Have you picked out a ring for me yet?”
“I will,” Jack said.
He got up and slipped gently into Morgan’s lap, and the moment turned from a simple coffee break into something more. Something low and sweet that connected them.
Jack’s arms came around Morgan. Morgan leaned into the embrace and returned it with his own. Jack’s weight on his lap grounded him, and Jack’s soft kiss to his temple made him float. He was the luckiest man alive.
The day continued with the usual concerns: that Jack should go to the store that afternoon and certainly before the snow came. That Morgan should truly have his list ready for Jack. And that he should call Gus when Jack wasn’t around.
“What do you have for me?” Morgan asked after Gus had answered his call.
“It’s a beaut,” Gus said. “Bright red. A front winch, a row of cab lights, plus two spotlights. Snow tires, brand new. Raised axel. Growly engine. Everything you want, nothing you don’t.”
“How old?”
“Ten years,” Gus said. “Manufactured during a good era, so I’m told.”
“Sold.”
“When do you want it?”
“As soon as you can,” Morgan said, tapping the eraser end of his pencil on the desk. “Evidently I’m getting married in November, so we’ll need this thing to take us all the way to Anaconda.”
“Yes, I heard about the wedding.”
Morgan sighed. The whole town had probably heard about the winter wedding hours before Jack had brought it up to Morgan. But that was the price to pay for being part of a community and, all things considered, it wasn’t very much for the happiness it brought.
“I want it to be a surprise,” Morgan said. “When it gets here, I need other vehicles in the parking lot. Like camouflage. Jack will go off to get donuts, and when he gets back—I’m going to call around for volunteers.”
“Coffee klatch time would work good,” Gus said. “I haven’t been to one in ages. I could deliver it there tomorrow morning. Will that work?”
“Yes.”
They ended the call, and Morgan sat back in his chair, looking out the far window at the blue sky that would soon be filled with snow. But not tomorrow. All he had to do was keep his tells from showing, and Jack would be surprised. What would make it even better would be—
Morgan picked up his cell phone and called Mabel. Asked her to call her bridge friends and that he’d pay for a cab so they could be there right before ten. “Tell Owen I’ll take care of it.”
Then he called Ambrose and told him about it and asked him to make sure Neville and Maurice were there, too.
Then he called the Bean There, and asked to speak to either Justin or Shane because, even though he still couldn't tell them apart without looking at their name badges, they made coffee just the way Jack liked it, and deserved to be invited.
“It’s a surprise,” he said. “So Jack will be picking up the regular amount of fresh donuts from the market, like he usually does, but with the people I’m inviting that might not be enough. Can you bring pastries? And then let me know how much, okay?”
“Sure can, Mr. Malone,” said either Justin or Shane. “We get deliveries every morning, so we’ll order extra for tomorrow.”
“Jack likes raspberry scones, especially,” Morgan added.
“Yes, sir,” said either Justin or Shane. “We’ll take care of it.”
Morgan grabbed the grocery list when he heard Jack clumping down the stairs, and erased a few items so that Jack would have a reason to not only pick up fresh donuts for the coffee klatch in the morning, but that he’d be delayed from returning to the feed and grain because Morgan had forgotten a few items that they’d need before the next storm.
It was such an obvious ruse it could not be subtle, so obvious that Jack would not see it for what it was. A way to ensure that as many of his friends as possible could assemble in time to see him receive his surprise present from Morgan.
Holding up the list as Jack came in the room, Morgan put on his best grumpy face to hide whatever tells Jack might see, and stood up to deliver a great big kiss, and a sweet murmur in Jack’s ear about love and devotion and drive safe and hurry back.
“I will,” Jack said. “Call if you think you’ve forgotten anything.”
“Sure thing,” Morgan said, though he knew there was not a chance in that.
That evening, as twilight turned to dusk, and the pale-pink clouds turned purple and gray, Morgan thought he could smell snow in the air.
Fingers crossed that it held off. A silent request to the universe, and a promise that he would be eternally grateful if the storm held off just long enough so that the folks who did show up in the parking lot of the feed and grain made it home safely.
That night, even with Jack curled in his arms, Morgan could barely sleep.
In the morning, as they ate breakfast, he noticed that the sky was a dull gray, and his weather app suggested that snow would start around ten. And that the temperatures would hover around ten degrees. Earlier than forecasted, and not entirely ideal, but it would have to suffice.
“We need donuts, of course,” Morgan said as he got up and began to clear the table. “And we need carrots, and we’re out of cinnamon, and could you pick up stuff so I can make spaghetti?”
“Oh, sure,” Jack said. As Morgan began filling the tub in the sink, he came up behind him and hugged him tight. “Sausages, too?”
“If they have them,” Morgan said. He paused to reach and cup Jack’s head in his hand. “Or ground beef and ground pork if they don’t, and I’ll make meatballs.”
There was nothing Jack liked more than talking about food, so he was smiling when he left, bundled up for the trip to the market, not just for fresh donuts, but for things he could have easily gotten the day before, had Morgan not removed them from the list.
With that plan in motion, Morgan left the dishes, finished getting dressed, and hurried down to the corner of the store, and made coffee, then put that in the large carafe to keep it warm, made more coffee, wiped the tables and chairs, and realized that if everyone he called actually showed up, there wouldn’t be enough places for everybody to sit.
Well, they’d probably be headed home as soon as they could to beat the storm.
And, besides, there was no use worrying about what couldn’t be helped.
Gus Odell showed up first, driving his own car, followed by Jack’s present, driven by a ranch hand.
The truck was big and shiny and red, with gleaming bumpers and a line of silver chrome running along the sides.
The front winch was new, so new that Morgan suspected Gus had just had it installed.
The spotlights and running lights on top of the truck’s cab battled for importance with the four large snow tires, with knobby treads built to plow through any snow or ice.
The running boards just made it that much more special.
The engine was very growly, which Morgan could hear as he came out into the parking lot, shivering without his coat.
“Put it right up next to the building,” Morgan said. “We can park the other vehicles in front of it, and then it can be driven out.”
The ranch hand did as he was asked, one hand on the wheel, giving Morgan a sassy smile as he turned off the engine.
Then, as the ranch hand got out, stepping down from the running board, other folks began showing up, and together, Morgan and Gus directed the cars as to where to park.
Owen had brought Mabel and her four bridge-playing friends, then remained with them, not only to take them all home again, but to join in the fun.
“Where’s Mister Rocket?” Morgan asked Mabel, going up to her.
“I left him at home,” Mabel said. “Though he would have loved to be here, he would be so excitable he’d be a distraction from Jack’s surprise.” She smiled sweetly, and Morgan was glad they’d made up and were friends again so they could do this for Jack, whom they both loved.
Everyone he’d invited came. Everybody, and then some, even folks he didn’t even recognize.
The coffee boys hustled their large box of pastries inside, and then came out to stand with the growing crowd of folks happy to participate in the fun of giving a gift, for no reason other than that Morgan wanted to.
Christmas wasn’t for weeks. Jack’s birthday wasn’t till April.
That didn’t matter. Later would not do. Now was good. Now was very good.
“Stand in front, in a group,” Morgan said, shrugging on his coat that either Julian or Shane had brought out to him.
“Act like I won’t let you in. Jack’ll think I’m grumpy, and that’ll distract him.
” He pointed at Gus’s ranch hand, a young man with a fox-sharp face and silver-blue eyes.
A bit of blonde hair that poked from beneath his tuque. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Ty,” he said. “What do you need?”
“I need you to hop in that truck and wait till I give you the signal.” Morgan raised his hand and pointed at the sky.
“Like that. Then start up that engine, all growly and powerful, and drive the truck into this clear spot here. Then leave it running and get out. Leave the door open, like an invitation. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Ty said.
Zipping up his coat, Morgan settled himself with a long breath. Then he pulled out his phone and texted Jack.
On your way?
Yep. Just leaving.
It was one minute to ten o’clock. The drive from the market usually took five minutes. The clouds were lowering in a hurry, twisting into gray and white swirls. The temperature was dropping fast. They were going to cut it fine.
In half a heartbeat, Jack came rolling into the parking lot of the feed and grain. Bless its heart, but Aunt Oralee’s truck looked like a moth-eaten rust bucket, with its balding tires and an obvious problem with its suspension, at least compared to the shiny newness of the red truck.
After Jack parked the truck and turned off the engine, he looked puzzled as he got out, as though wondering why there were no spots closer to the front door, like there usually was.