Morgan-Grace (REVAMPING)

CHAPTER 2

WHISKEY GLASSES—MORGAN WALLEN
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September 14th, 2015
High Valley Farm
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Walking through the front door, Morgan's mother wasted no time in bombarding her with a zillion questions. Not in the mood to relay the back and forth babble between the two men or the hurtful comments, she flopped down on her father's peeling recliner and tossed her folder on the coffee table.

"How yer actin', I reckon it didn't go so well," her mother said while eyeing her steadily.

Huffing out an exhausted breath, Morgan tore the scrunchie from her hair and ran a hand through it.

"I'd rather not, ma."

Her mother took a seat across from her on their plaid sofa.

"I spoke with Boone after ya left and, I'm tellin' ya, he don't mind—"

"Ma! I told ya I'd find a job," she exclaimed, rolling her head back out of frustration.

She gave her daughter a sentimental look. "Sweet-cakes, we're just tryin' to help."

She sighed. "I know and I'm sorry. It's just . . . I'd rather find one on ma' own, y'know?"

"Alright. If that's what ya want."

As they both sat in the living room, Morgan contemplated whether to tell her mother of the other offer. She was curious to see what she had to say about it.

"I might've been given another offer."

"Oh, really?" she said with newfound interest. "And what's this offer?"

"I ain't sure yet. Hasn't told me yet."

With a lift from her sparse eyebrow, she folded her arms. "I ain't like the sound of that."

"We need the money, ma. Anyhow, I'mma just set-up an appointment and hear him out. That can't hurt, right?"

As her mother went to speak, a tooting horn cut her off and pulled Morgan's attention out to the window. She knew that familiar sound anywhere.

With profuse eagerness, she sprang up and brisked to the screen door. She looked out in time to see a restored retro bronco with a flapping American flag pull up out front. She walked out to greet the newcomer as they stepped out of their truck.

"Howdy, darlin'," he said with a toothy grin.

Standing before her was Rhett, a true southern gentleman with an all-American, wholesome attitude. He was the type of man that parents would pray for their daughters to bring home.

He held a bouquet of assorted flowers in one hand and removed his camo hat with the other.

Morgan's heart warmed in seeing his smile and she ran to him. Wrapping her arms around his broad physique, she borrowed her nose in his Army uniform. Rich and musky, exactly as she had remembered it.

Although it had only been six months since his deployment, she had dreamt of this moment night and day.

After realizing how long she had been holding onto him, she pulled back to stare into his cornflower blues. That's when she noticed his hair, or what was left of it. She was so used to seeing his soft blond mop that when she reached for it, the baby fuzz felt odd and jagged.