Page 71 of Moros

“My name is Khadri Weston.” I explained. “I’m here to see Morgana and Theodore Larwick.”

“Do we know you?” She asked.

“Um—no, ma’am.” I paused. “But I knew your son.”

“Hold on.” She told me.

Soon, the front door opened, and a dark-skinned woman, leaning heavily on a cane came hobbling toward us. The closer she got I could tell she recognized Ryanne immediately. By the time she reached the gate, tears were rolling down her cheeks and her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely get the gate unlocked.

The keys fell from her hands and clattered to the ground.

I reached through the bars to get it.

“Can you show me which key it is?” I asked her, my voice soft.

Nodding, she reached through to single out the key I needed, and I stuck my arms in to unlock the gate. The moment it was opened, it was almost like I didn’t exist. She only had eyes for Ryanne—touching her cheek with a tender fingertip, stroking across her shoulders, hugging her and sobbing.

“Do you know who I am?” Ryanne asked.

“Of course—but how can you be here?” Morgana asked, fear filling her tear-filled gaze., “You’re dead!”

Well shit.

That escalated.

“Come inside.” Morgana told us. “Please, relock the gate.”

Doing as she told me, I jogged to catch up to them. We removed our shoes and followed her further into the house where Theodore was craning his neck from where he was seated in a specialized seat to accommodate his injury.

“Teddy?” Morgana called. “Look who it is.”

She stepped out of the way and the look on the old man’s face was one of a person who was staring a ghost.

“You’re—” He panted.

“Dead?” Ryanne asked.

Theodore looked up at his wife. “How?”

“You must be thirsty and hungry from your trip.” Morgana said. “Let me get something together and we can sit and talk.”

The wait for her to return was a strange one. When Theodore wasn’t staring at me, he was staring at Ryanne. I understood why the looks to me—I wasn’t the kind of man a girl would ever take home to her parents or grandparents.

My look was harsh, and unexpected.

For Ryanne, they thought she was dead—that kind of made sense.

When Morgana returned, I helped her by taking the tray and setting it on the center table. And while I didn’t touch the snacks, I accepted a drink, loaded with ice and sipped.

“Ginger beer.” Morgana grinned sweetly at me. “What do you think?”

I enjoyed the harshness of the ginger.

“Perfect. I was worried I didn’t add enough ginger,” she said. “Buying the stuff is getting too expensive.”

“You made this?” Ryanne who had been sipping contently at hers, asked.

Morgana nodded.

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