Family Values (Chapter 4)

Chapter 4

        Every time she woke up from that dream, Morgan always felt depressed. She had to look around her to make sure that she was not in the bed with two little girls. They always felt so real and it took her time to adjust to the fact that she was indeed in her own house and in her own bed. A clammy sweat always accompanied the dreams along with twisted bed sheets. Ray always joked her about the sheets never staying in one spot when she was in the bed. He told her that when he goes to sleep, he wakes up in the same position as he started in. However when SHE was in the bed, it looked like a massacre of covers if there were any actually still left when she awoke.
        On those days, even the dogs were thrown onto the floor and she could find them staring up at her trying to figure out why she could such a thing to them and asking for permission to jump back up. This sight would usually make her laugh and she would pat the mattress to show them that they were allowed back on, preparing herself for puppy-dog kisses from two very over active dogs. They loved to be petted and would get jealous if one got more of a pat than the other, which would then cause each one trying to be the closest dog to her until there was no more room and she was up against the headboard fighting for room to breathe. Who know that a couple of three pound dogs could have such a STRONG effect on you.
        After playing with the big-earred mutts for a few minutes, she would always be in a better mood and usually have forgotten about the dream. Ray would hardly ever be in bed with her when she got up. He was usually in the house doing some repairs or out in the work shop building a new project. He was a very skilled builder, making things that would make you wonder if he didn't run out to a furniture store and say he built it. That's what she would think if she didn't see him build the things with her own eyes. He was a marvelous person.
          Standing about 6'4" tall with a slender build, his black hair combined made Morgan call him her "tall, dark, and handsome". He had muscle definition in all the right places, but not enough to be overkill or tacky. He had subtle lines and creases that would make anyone want to trace them with their fingers. When he flexed was when the muscles were shown and his potential was really made apparent. He was a country raised just like Morgan and his dark tan proved that he was not afraid to be outside in the sun.
        She loved to watch him work with his shirt off. He wasn't smooth on the chest like some of those BOYS you see on commercials. He definitely wasn't a gorilla either. He had a very thin layer of chest hair that was growing in just the right places. He had a goatee that was just as black as the hair on his head that surrounded a nice mouth. She actually had never seen him without his facial hair, and would almost be afraid to do so, seeing how that's all she's ever seen him with. His eyes were green with a thin circle of brown that actually seemed to bring out the specks of blue. When he smiled, his eyes lit up along with it and could make you feel like you were the luckiest person in the world for making him happy. When it wasn't styled, his hair had the appearance of being a little bit shaggy. It was shaggy in a very sexy way though and Morgan could hardly resist running her fingers through it.
          He once told her that she kept him young and he kept her calm. He was twelve years her senior even though ninety-percent of the time it never crossed either of their minds. The only times she ever remembered the age difference was when someone ELSE was making a big deal about it. Morgan would always tell him that as long as they make each other happy and that it's perfectly LEGAL, there is nothing wrong with being different ages. If anything, that's what brings them so close together at times. They would share new experiences with each other and enjoy being the first to introduce the other.
          Morgan was more up to date on the popular trends and music while Ray was brought up in a totally different time. He was still up to date on a lot of things that would actually surprise Morgan from time to time, but he introduced her to the next love of her life. Classic Country. She loved listening to the deep raspy voices of singers such as Johnny Cash and Conway Twitty. The tearful love songs of George Straight. When she was going through school and even more recently, Morgan was very prejudiced against country music. She was born in the country and ran around barefoot in the woods for god's sake... but she had always hated country. Possibly because this type of music was frowned upon by the peers in her school system. If you listened to country you were considered weird or a loser. Yet, if you dressed the way the popular kids did and listened to everything they did, but weren't friends with the popular kids, you were considered a "poser". Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
        Sometimes she would laugh at the age difference, seeing how she was closer to his daughter's age and he was closer to Morgan's parent's ages than each others. She was always mature for her age, though, so naturally she was attracted to older men anyways. Her husband had been 6 years older than she, even though he acted 6 years younger at times. That, is another story entirely, in which she didn't have a problem with repeating, but didn't feel like wasting her time on the matter.
        Ray was what mattered in her life now. He meant everything to her and knew, for a fact, that they would be together for as long as they lived. What she had was not just a real man, but the man of her dreams. She would never let him go, and she knows that he would never let her go.
She finds him in the kitchen, fixing something on stove. She walks up behind him and put her arms around his bare stomach. He jumps a little and turns around with a spatula in hand.
      "Girl, I'm gonna smack you next time you sneak up on someone like that." He teases with a warm and gentle smile.
      "You only wish you could smack me." Morgan turns around and shakes her butt, mocking Ray. He lunges at her but she quickly slides across the linoleum in her socked feet.
      "Whatcha cooking?" She asks him from across the kitchen.
        "Food." Was the reply she got.
        "Ha-ha, no shit, Sherlock, it's food. What kind of food?"
      "The kind you eat."
      "Grrrr.... You are such a punk."
      "At least I don't go around shaking my butt in the middle of the kitchen."
        "That's because you have no butt." And she sticks her tongue out at him.
        "I could ask to borrow a little from you. You have enough to go around."
        "Oh! Oh! There ya go! Insulting my badonkadonk. You said you loved my bootimus."
        "You know I do, baby. Come here and give me a hug."
        She walks up to him cautiously and reaches up to put her arms around his neck. He places his around her waist and clamps his hands together.
        "You know I love you, don't you?" He breathes in her ear.
          "Yes." She answers with a kiss. She looks over his shoulder in the middle of the hug. "French Toast?! Yummy!"
          "It was supposed to be a surprise!" Ray pretends to pout.
          "I'll pretend to be sur...." They both hear a CLICK and the lights went out. "What the .... ?"
        "That's weird." Ray ponders. "Not only were we not doing anything different to overload the breakers, but only one clicked and every light in the house is out. It doesn't happen like that."
        "I'll go get it, baby. You finish fixing me some breakfast." She volunteers as she smacks him on the rump. That was the benefits of having a gas stove/oven. The power can be out and you still have means to cook food. Works well during winter storms, Ray tells her. She hasn't experienced one yet.
          Luckily, it was still daylight and so they didn't have to rush around lighting candles or anything of that sort. She walked back into the bedroom and slipped her shoes on and grabbed the flashlight from the closet shelf. It might be light up stairs, but in the basement there was no windows or any way for light to break into the damp hole.
        The basement was the entire width of the house and almost the entire length. The walls were made of huge cement blocks and the ceiling had the same tile as you would find in almost every school room in the country. Inexpensive and easily maintained. Nothing was stored in the basement, storage was usually found in the workshop in the back yard. This room housed things such as the washer and dryer set with a clothes rod to hang clothes, counter space to fold, and cabinet space for all the washing powders and liquids. They were thinking about turning the rest of the area into a work out space. They had plenty of equipment they could spread out.

        She smiles at Ray while she passes back through the kitchen into the pantry/mudroom. This was the only entrance to the basement stairs. She pulled open the door and turned the flashlight on, shining it on the steps in front of her feet. This was her least favorite part of descending into the blackness, the stairs. They were so steep they might as well have been a wall with a couple inches of board sticking out here and there. She always skinned the back of her ankles making sure that she was stepping her entire foot onto the board below. They never creaked or shook, they were steep. Almost by habit, she reaches for the light switch on the left wall and flips it. Nothing, obviously, and sighs.
        One foot at a time she makes her way down the wooden steps and is faced with a wall. Turning to her left she walks out into the opening of the basement and spots the breaker box with her beam of light. She walks towards the box while making sure not to run into any of the support beams. Reaching the box, she sets the flashlight down on the shelf and opens the metal door. Looking up and down the switches inside, she can't find a single one that flipped. She knew it wasn't lack of paying a bill or anything of that sorts, so why is the power out? Maybe they were working on the lines somewhere down the road. Yeah. That was the only explanation she could think of.
        She pauses. What was that? It sounded like... no... never mind. That was impossible. She turns back around and reaches for the flashlight when something brushes against the back of her calves. Dropping the light, she spins around with a gasp and slams her back against the wall, palms touching the cold cement, staring blindly into the room. The only thing visible was a thin beam of light pointing towards the opposite wall, but not quite reaching it. Why did they have to buy the cheap flashlights? They only put light on anything directly in it's path never spreading it to any of the surrounding area.
        Morgan tried to slow her breathing by concentrating on the beam and ignoring the heavy darkness that smothered her from all directions. Maybe it was one of the cats. But how would it have gotten down here? She shut the door behind her on her way into the basement. The thought made her shiver again. She would tell herself that it was one of the cats and that was that.
Gaining control of her trembling extremities she props herself up off the wall. Keeping her eyes on the flashlight she takes a deep breath and starts forward. Skkkkttttt Skkkkttttt Skkkktttttt She stops, eyes wide. That is what it sounds like. She remembers that sound. Her heart beat races and the hair on the back of her neck reaches for the ceiling. Skkkkttttt Skkkkttttt Skkkkttttt A raspy, sort of gurgling growl from across the room. 
        Tears start forming in her eyes while her hands start to shake. She advances a little more in hopes of reaching the flashlight before she completely loses her sanity. She bends her knees, being careful to move slowly, and reaches her arm towards the handle while she crouches close to the floor. A hand grabs the light from no where. It was a black, withered thing with brownish cracked nails. It seemed to stop when it grabbed the light, just long enough for Morgan to get a good look at the extremity and then it yanked the flashlight from out of view and she heard it crash against a wall somewhere in front of her. She lost it.
          Not caring whether she could see or not, she started running towards the direction that she knew the stairs to be. Flailing her arms out in front of her, she merely hoped that she didn't run face first into one of the wooden support posts. She could feel it. It was right behind her. She didn't know how she knew, she could just FEEL it on her. She starting sobbing after she ran her shoulder against a post. Blinding pain, then a sharp burning sensation. She didn't stop. She finally found the steps and didn't stop when she tripped over the bottom step and skinned her knees on the next. She used her arms to pull her back up and half dragged, half walked up the steps. She found her way to the door and pulled.
          Nothing. She yanked again. And again. NO! NO! She started pulling on the door furiously over and over. Her crying became louder the harder she pulled on the wooden door. Click. Click. She stopped, the next sob choked in her throat. Click. Click. It was coming up the steps. Click. Click. Slowly, but it was making it's way towards her. Click. Click. The sound of it's nails against the boards sent shivers down her spine. Click. Click. She turned around and started banging on the door. Screaming.
          "RAY! RAY! PLEASE, RAY! OPEN THE DOOR! RAY!" She yelled. Click. Click. Her hands were hurting from banging on the door. "RAY! OPEN THE DOOR! RAY! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! RAY!" Click. Click. Why wasn't he opening the door? Click. Click. There was no way he didn't hear her. Click. Click. Oh, God. This wasn't happening. Click. Click. This was just a dream. Wake-up, Morgan. Click. Click. She kept pounding on the door. "RAY! OH GOD, PLEASE! RAY! OPEN THE DOOR!"
          She could hear it breathing now. Skkktttt Skkktttt Skkktttt She collapsed against the door, crying silently, no more tears to come out. She falls forward with a smack against the linoleum flooring of the pantry. Landing in front of black work boots. She follows the shoes up to the legs, waist, chest, then face. Ray. She scrambled up fast and swung around to slam the door shut behind her. Pushing her back against the door, something rams into the door with such force that the door is flung open a few inches, then slammed shut again.
          "What the Hell was that?!" Ray questions, with his face growing pale.
          "Uhmmm...." Morgan tries to think of something to say but Ray quickly changes the subject when he takes another look at her.
          "Oh my god, baby. What happened down there?" As he rushes to her to cradle her in his arms.
            "I don't know. I think I just wigged out on myself. I dropped the flashlight and I guess it broke and when it went dark I couldn't see and I guess I scared myself. When I tried to find my way to the door I kept hitting things and then the door wouldn't open. I was banging on it. Screaming for you. Where were you? Why wouldn't you help me?"
            Tears swell up hot and heavy in her green eyes again.
            "I'm so sorry, baby. I was outside putting the trash on the burn pile. I didn't hear you. I am so sorry."
            He kisses her forehead tenderly. It makes his chest ache to see her cry. He was supposed to be the cause of happiness in her life, the one person she could always rely on, she wasn't supposed to cry while she was with him. He held on to her tightly and rocked her until the tears stopped flowing. He glances at the basement door. Helping her out of the floor again, he directs her to the dining room where breakfast was waiting. Without her noticing, Ray quietly deadbolts the basement door before exiting the room.
          "When I went down there, none of the breakers had flipped. So why did our power go out?" Morgan wonders while she spreads butter on her french toast.
            "I have no idea. It was still off when I went outside. I'm not sure exactly when it came back on. But when we came in here it was on." Ray replies with the bottle of syrup upside down over his plate. "Maybe they were working on it down the street or something."
          "I thought of that too." Morgan chews slowly. Or maybe it was when the door finally opened that the lights came back on. When nothing makes sense, anything is possible.