Dr. Morgan - Part 19

Good Morning FFFs,
Well, I'm going to try to give you the next part of Dr. Morgan. We'll see if my computer lets me. You see, my computer is dying and will only let me do somethings. I think it will let me open the next part of the story so I can copy and paste it in.

This week we have stayed at home and it's been so nice! I've gotten to work on things that needed worked on and the week has flown by. I have even been able to get back into writing again!!! Yay! After about three weeks of not writing TCR-4, I've gotten two parts written. I'm still not very far into the story, but I think you'll like it. :)
What would you all say if I published "The Graham Quartet and the Mysterious Strangers?" Would anyone be interested in having it in book form? And do I have any readers out there who would like to try their hand at illustrating? If so, let me know at readanotherpage [at] gmail [dot] com.

Before I give you the story, here's one more quote from Doodle Bug you can chuckle over.
He was sitting at the table eating a snack of "yogrit" last week and says to me, "I put salt and pepper in my yogrit. It taste yummy!" A few minutes later after he had eaten a bite or two: "I not want to eat it." :) So the next time you think of adding salt and pepper to your yogurt, just remember Doodle Bug has already tried it and, though the initial reaction was delight, reality soon hit and you may not want to eat it either. :)

Dr. Morgan

Part 19

    Limping quickly from the dining room, while tears ran down her cheeks, the troubled girl fled to her room where she collapsed onto her bed and sobbed. Up until that time her forgotten memory had been troubling, but now she felt helpless and alone.
    Back in the kitchen, Mrs. Morgan had heard the cry and hurried into the dining room only to find Amy gone. A quick glance at the unset table, and Mrs. Morgan was sure of what had happened. Stepping into the front room where the rest of the family was gathered, she said, “Adam, Sara, will you please finish supper and see that the table gets set?”
    It was obvious that all had seen Amy’s distress, for Mr. Morgan, Sara and Adam all looked troubled. “Of course, Mom,” Adam replied quietly, standing up to take the spoon from his mother’s hand. “Come on, Sara.”
    With many anxious glances down the hall after her mother, Sara slowly followed her brother into the other room, having set Jenny on the couch to read stories with Danny.
    Pausing in the open doorway of Amy’s room, Mrs. Morgan looked with tender eyes at the sobbing girl on the bed. She was so young and looked so helpless at that moment. “Amy,” she said softly, stepping in and sitting on the edge of the bed.
    Amy, on hearing her name spoken and feeling the gentle touch of a hand, wailed, “Why can’t I remember?”
    “I don’t know, Child,” Mrs. Morgan answered softly. “I don’t know.” Tenderly she stroked the light hair, praying inwardly for wisdom and comfort for this girl with only a name. Unconsciously she began humming one of the evening hymns. It was the tune Heather had first sung to Amy weeks before and the melody soothed her now as it did then. Gradually her sobs lessened and she lay quiet and still. So still was she that Mrs. Morgan wondered if she had fallen asleep, but when she rose and began to spread a blanket over her, Amy stirred.
    “I’m not asleep,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
    “Are you going to come eat now? Supper is probably about ready.”
    “I don’t feel hungry,” was the whispered reply.
    Mrs. Morgan patted her shoulder. “All right, Dear. Come when you are ready. And remember this, we want you.”
    There was no reply and Mrs. Morgan left the room wondering if she had done all she could.

    Supper was nearly over when Amy appeared. Traces of tears were still on her face, but no one said a word as Adam, rising with his customary good manners, pulled out her chair for her. She didn’t eat much and scarcely said a word all evening. When it was time for the evening hymns, she remained sitting in her chair and listened, a troubled look on her face.
    After the little ones and Amy had gone to bed, the rest of the Morgan family remained sitting around the fire.
    “What are we going to tell Justin when he calls?” Sara asked softly. “He hasn’t called all day so I expect he’ll be calling any time now.”
    Mrs. Morgan sighed and looked across at her husband. “I don’t know. Perhaps he should come up and see her.”
    “What upset her this evening?” Mr. Morgan asked.
    “She didn’t know how to set the table and I think it was the last straw. Her only cry when I went to her was ‘why can’t I remember?’ I wanted to cry myself.”
    Just then the phone rang and Mr. Morgan rose quickly to answer it. “Hello. We were wondering when you’d get around to calling. . . . I see. Well, . . . no, she went to bed with the little ones tonight. . . . Justin, let me switch phones. It’ll be easier to talk in the office. I’ll put your mother on while I head to the office.”
    On hearing this, Mrs. Morgan rose and took the phone her husband handed her. “Hello, Son. Was the hospital busy today? . . . Oh, I see. . . . Yes, we decorated yesterday during the storm. . . . She was just fine, but there’s Dad. Good-bye. . . . I love you too.”
    Returning to the front room, Mrs. Morgan settled herself once more in her chair. The room was quiet save for the soft sounds of the fire and the low murmur of Mr. Morgan’s deep voice in the office.
    Sara, curled up in one corner of the couch, frowned over at Adam as he absentmindedly straightening the fringe on the rug. “Why do you think she was fine yesterday, Mom, but tonight—” she didn’t finish, but looked at her mother with a puzzled face.
    “I don’t know for sure. It could be that we kept her too busy yesterday to try to think and tonight, well, tonight she tried doing something alone for the first time since she’s been sick and found out she didn’t know how.”
    “I can’t imagine what it must be like to have done something hundreds of times in my life and then suddenly realize that I didn’t know how to do it any longer.” Adam’s voice was thoughtful.
    “Isn’t there anything we can do?” Sara wondered.
    Neither Adam nor Mrs. Morgan had an answer, and all sat in thoughtful silence until Mr. Morgan once more joined them.
    “What did Justin say?” Mrs. Morgan looked up to ask.
    “He’ll be up sometime tomorrow. An ambulance is coming to transport one of the patients to Jackson in the morning and he thought after that he’d be able to get away.” He yawned. “I think I’m about ready to turn in.”
    “Dad.”
    Mr. Morgan turned from the fire which he was carefully banking for the night and looked at his son questioningly. “Yes?”
    “Can I use the truck tomorrow?”
    “All day?”
    “Maybe. You aren’t going to want it?”
    Mr. Morgan shook his head. He could tell his youngest son had an idea in his mind, but until he was ready to share it, his lips would remained closed.

It worked!

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