He looked over at the sleeping man. Morgan found himself hoping it hadn’t been a dream. The James who’d been in his bed last night was, despite being drunk, more like the James Morgan had imagined he would be.
Morgan looked at the clock that sat on the nightstand between the two beds—6:25. Robert had said they usually had breakfast at about seven. Morgan quietly got out of bed to head for the shower. As he was about to leave the room, he heard James groan. Morgan turned.
James had turned over and was pulling his pillow close to him. “Waabishki-ma’iingan, gi zah gin,”he whispered.
Morgan recognized his name, White Wolf, but he didn’t understand the rest of what James said
* * * *
Morgan went through the living room and into the kitchen. Miriam was there. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Did you sleep all right?”