Sixteen and Dying by Lurlene McDaniel Page A

young.”
    “That’s true. I miss her still.”
    “Do you remember much about her?”
    “It’s difficult to remember. I know from her photographs that she was beautiful. Mostly, I recall small things.”
    “Such as?”
    “She laughed a lot. I remember how she and Daddy would sit on the front steps and laugh together. Mother was British. Daddy met her while he was studying at Oxford. And she truly did smell like flowers.” Anne closed her eyes and inhaled, as if the Colorado air might somehow import that other fragrance from across time.
    She opened her eyes to see Morgan staring at her. She wondered what it would feel like to rest her head against his chest, the way she’d seen her mother do with her father. “What about your mother?” she asked, hoping her feelings weren’t written on her face. “Was she descended from the Cheyenne grandmother?”
    Morgan had avoided discussing his family, but now he felt secure and talked. “The Cheyenne is on my father’s side. My mother was a beautiful womantoo, but different from the way you described yours. Mama loved a good time. She should never have gotten married. And she and my dad should
never
have had a kid.”
    Anne felt sorry for Morgan, for the hurt look that surfaced on his face. Had his mother treated him badly? “What about your father?” She expected Morgan to say that his mother had run away with another man and that his father was around somewhere.
    “My dad’s dead.”
    The matter-of-fact way he said it shocked Anne. “I see,” she said, without seeing at all. Did that mean that his mother had abandoned Morgan—simply walked out of his life? And how had his father died? Morgan didn’t add anything, although Anne gave him plenty of time. “How long have you been living with your aunt and uncle?” she asked after an awkward silence.
    “Six years.”
    “Your aunt cares about you. I can tell.”
    “I know,” Morgan said. “She’s my dad’s sister. We have a lot in common.” Talking about his parents had depressed him. Recalling the look of love in Anne’s eyes when she spoke about her parents only intensified his pain. He pitied the little girl whose mother had died and left her behind. He ached for the twelve-year-old boy he’d been when his father had been taken away and his mother had packed her things and left, even though he understood—still understood—why she had. He honestly didn’t hold it against her.
    His mother’s words came back clearly, although ithad been almost seven years.
“I can’t stay. I can’t sit around year after year and wait for this to happen to either Maggie or you. No one should have to have this happen. No one. It’s a living nightmare.”
    “Has our conversation depressed you?” Anne’s question pulled Morgan back into the present.
    “No way,” he replied, forcing a smile. Looking over her shoulder, he could see Skip and Marti kissing. He wanted to kiss Anne too. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until the fear inside him went away. “I learned to live with it a long time ago.”
    Anne didn’t want to challenge him, but she was certain he’d never learned to live with what had happened to him. She gazed skyward and saw that stars were beginning to appear. “I’ve never seen so many stars,” she said, hoping to recapture their earlier mood. “In New York City, you have to go to an observatory to see this kind of star power.”
    Morgan looked up and studied the star-studded night. “Out here, you take some things for granted. Night skies full of stars is only one of them.” Pretty, rich girls from big cities, whom he didn’t want to become involved with, were another.
    “Look!” Anne cried, pointing heavenward. “A shooting star!”
    Morgan watched the star streak across the night. “Some nights, it seems like the whole universe is falling to earth.”
    Anne could only imagine. Still staring upward, she heard Morgan say, “We should head back. It’s a long ride home.”