Michael found Morgan in his study. Morgan's fingers flew over the pages of a book. Michael cleared his throat to announce himself. Morgan slid a pagemarker near his finger and closed the book. He placed it on a small table and indicated the seat next to him. Michael sat down and breathed loudly to indicate he was thinking about something. Morgan spoke first. “You are going to entreat me to be home this year.”
Michael nodded noisily. He looked at the several shelves worth of braille books and wondered idly if Morgan had bought any since their mother had tried burn his collection. “The only gift I want this year is to see you smile on Christmas Day.”
“A simple request,” Morgan responded. “Yet, it is one that I am profoundly at odds to give.”
Michael made a keening noise while shaking his head. “I think after thirty years, she can let us have this one special day together again. I can bind her tongue myself, if necessary.”
“It will not be necessary,” Morgan said plainly. “She has not forced me away since Father passed on. It was from him she was keeping me.”
“Then, where have you been all these years?”
“I have been trying not to force myself into the excessive cheeriness of the season. It does not ring true for me. And I would not rob you of your happiness and love of it by sitting about melancholic and ineffective. All this time of year does... is make me wish I could have spent it with Dad.”
As Micheal reached out to embrace him, Morgan stood and walked out of the room with a haunted expression on his face. Michael did not sense an incipient attack, so he let him go, wondering.
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