A Son's Tale

Cal stood as Morgan hung up. He walked with her to the front door, knowing that she was counting the seconds until she could hold her son.

And when the squad car pulled up, lights flashing, and the small boy got slowly out of the backseat, his face solemn as he approached his mom, as Morgan flew down the steps and grabbed her son up off the ground, clutching him to her, Cal slipped away.

He had a life to get back to.

CHAPTER TEN

MORGAN WAS SOUND asleep Sunday afternoon when the phone rang. She reached toward the nightstand next to her queen-size bed, trying to make contact with her cell phone, cracking her knuckles on the end table at the same time that she registered the leathery texture beneath her cheek. She was on the couch.

With a quick glance at Sammie, who was asleep on the other end of the couch, his bare feet touching her, she grabbed the phone off the table, pushing the answer button as soon as she’d made contact with the device.

Sammie had h

ad a rough couple of nights. She didn’t want him disturbed.

“Hello?” She spoke in a whisper until she was outside the front door.

“Morgan, honey?”

Her stomach sank. She knew that tone of voice.

“Yeah, Mom, what’s up?”

Her father’s bidding, she knew that much. There’d be a price to pay for Friday night’s debacle.

“I have a favor to ask you, sweetie.”

“Daddy wants me to move home.”

“No! Your father understands that you’re an adult and that you have your own life.”

He’d finally come around? She couldn’t believe it.

But then, miracles happened. She’d had proof the afternoon before when she’d felt her son’s skinny arms around her neck, holding on like he’d never let go, when she’d held his small body up against her heart and known that he was safe.

“What, then?”

“I want you to listen to me for a few minutes, honey.”

A big red ant climbed down a step.

“Okay.” The ant climbed back up. She’d have to get some spray. She couldn’t afford a professional exterminator right now. Not with school starting in another month.

“You know I’ve always supported the idea of you having Sammie. And I’ve done everything I could to help you two make it all right.”

Everything she could within the auspices of her father’s close oversight.

“I know, Mom.” The babysitting over the years had helped. Her mother’s emotional support had helped even more.

“I encouraged you to go to college.”

“I know.” The ant circled around. Looking for friends? Didn’t ants travel in groups? All for one? The king of the hill?

“And I’ve bought things for Sammie whenever I could.”

Was that was this was about? The money her mother had given her son without telling her so that he could get the basketball shoes he’d wanted? The money he’d used to buy a cheap sleeping bag and other supplies for his bid for independence?

“I know, Mom.” She didn’t blame her mom for Sammie’s running away. She blamed herself. He’d told her he was struggling. That she was holding him too tight. She should have trusted her son on the internet. If he didn’t visit any sites he wasn’t supposed to visit, he wouldn’t be prey to the dangers lurking there.