Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (77 page)

fly out so he could accompany her on the trip.

“What’s this about?” George’s mother asked.

“George saw an upstart being a smart ass towards me the other

day and fired him.” Patrick grinned. George leaned against him, trying

to get his breath back after being squeezed. George’s firm had hired

Patrick back as a consultant three times over the past year, having him

back each time he had leave.

“George! You fired someone in this economy?” his mother asked.

He faced her disappointment.

“I didn’t fire him only because of that. I was going to fire him

anyway.”

“Patrick used to protect you from bullies,” Patrick’s mother said.

“Sounds like you’ve gone full circle.”

“Speaking of.” Patrick stepped away from George and sank to his

knees. Everyone went quiet.

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was over. For one year, one month, and three

days, Patrick and George had stuck to the plan and the people on The

List. Patrick had learned what it was like to be loved for who he was

and had even told a few men he served with. George learned the

difference between loving a person who had never been there and

might never be and loving a man who went off to war and might not

come back. He wasn’t sure which was worse. He loved so much now

that he couldn’t think of the adage “to have loved and lost is better

than to never have loved at all” without feeling sick. They’d learned

that despite the myths they’d created about each other being just that,

the man each woke up with was better than a myth because he was

flesh, and present, and returned the love he received.

Patrick pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. “Just so we’re

clear, I didn’t steal this from Mom while I was home.”

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George twirled the ring he’d put back on his finger and worn for

the past one year, one month, and three days, plus twenty-eight years,

minus five days. He swallowed a laugh as Patrick’s mother broke the

silence with, ”
Excuse me?
” Patrick grinned as it cut the tension. The

room filled with laughter. George dropped to his knees, too, needing

to be close to Patrick. He put his head on Patrick’s shoulder as Patrick

opened the box to reveal a silver wedding band.

“George Henry Stuart, I would be most honored if you would

consent to be my husband.”

He was twelve years old, standing in that hidden spot beneath the

road, about to get married so he could lay in bed with the boy he loved

and kiss him. He was forty, on his knees in his mother’s living room,

about to get engaged so he could keep kissing the man he loved as

long as he wanted. “Why, my dear Major Reynolds, I do declare I

thought you would never ask.”

Patrick slipped the ring on its intended finger, George flung

himself into the kiss, and the room exploded in applause.

THE END

Author’s Note

I would like to thank Diana for her prompt. Along with wanting to

read about two men on a long road to love and happiness, she

requested an aspect of Patrick and George’s lives that did not fit into

the story, which was to see “who is watching over them in the world

they can finally share.” The vignettes that follow introduce some of

those people who made Fate’s role easier.

****





Burke slid down the sand dune, landing at the makeshift camp. It

was hidden from view, found by luck and prayer with Hell on their

heels. He tossed the satellite phone to the ground. “Busted,” he said,

“but I got through first. They’re sending someone for us.”


Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 464

“Nothing to do now but wait,” Logan answered. They’d lost their

Jeep, almost their lives. “You tell them about the Major?” 


Between them, the Major moaned in delirium. Burke had First Aid

training, but he couldn’t get the bullet out of Patrick’s shoulder. It

festered there, hidden behind blood-soaked bandages. Logan pulled

the blanket over him, touched his canteen to Patrick’s parched lips. 


“How’s he doing?” Burke asked. He crouched too and used his

sleeve to mop the sweat off his superior’s brow.



“Feverish. Keeps shivering, but he’s burning up. Whoever’s

coming better put the lead on.”



“They’ll make it,” Burke said. “They have to.” He clutched

Patrick’s unwounded shoulder when a convulsion rolled Patrick

against his knee. 

”

George,” Patrick said.



“He’s on that again?”



“Yeah.” For three days, “George” had been the Major’s only

coherent word. “When we’re out of here, we don’t mention it.”



“Don’t have to tell me that.”



“Not to anybody, including the Major,” Logan said. “And

especially not his wife.”



“As far as I’m concerned, George is his brother.” Burke rolled

Patrick off his knee and eased him back to the ground. The Major

rolled onto his side, shaking.



Logan pulled the blanket over him again. “Keep him warm, or

he’ll never get his family reunion.”



****


George grabbed Saul’s wrist. The look he got in return made him

drop it. “What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” 



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“I’m not breaking up with you,” Saul said, “I’m making way for

Patrick.”



“I haven’t… What are you talking about? I don’t even know where

Patrick is!”



“And yet he’s all you talk about. Christ, George, you’re in a

relationship with the invisible man.”



George touched Saul again, gentler. “I don’t mean to. I promise.”

Saul pulled him in and wrapped him in his strong, reassuring

arms. “I know, baby. The fact that you don’t know what you’re doing

is the only reason I feel sorry for you instead of hating you for making

me believe we had a chance.” He kissed the top of George’s head and

walked away.



George watched him go. Ninth boyfriend he’d lost to a man he

hadn’t seen in over a decade. Every time he thought, “This one will

make me forget.” All they did was make him believe in fate. Trouble

was, he didn’t know if fate was for or against him. Would it bring him

his childhood love or keep him alone forever?


****



He didn’t fuck like most men she’d been with. Irena had soothed

trembling virgins-eager ones, too-and offered herself up to men who

rutted against her as if she disappeared beneath them and turned into a

manifestation of their desperation. For these men, every second

mattered because the next second could be the one that killed. But

Patrick was different. He was confident and polite.

Usually she only got politeness when it came with a harsh case of

nerves. He talked first, and during, and after, once he’d woken up. He

always fell asleep as soon as he spent-the one thing that made him

similar to the others. She padded around the tiny bedroom. A sad

flower on the windowsill attempted to make it homey. Outside,

destruction. Here, reprieve. Picking up his uniform from the floor, she

folded each piece and set it on the table. The picture he kept in his

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 466

breast pocket poked out of the top. Patrick and another boy embraced

in faded colors. A hint of blood colored the corner. She pushed it back

in. She’d looked at it plenty before, staring between it and the soldier

sleeping in front of her. Although she never asked about it, she knew

why he carried the photo. She closed the pocket flap over it, locking it

safe so when Patrick dressed again, it would press against his heart.



****



The coffee in the teachers’ lounge tasted like hogspit, but Josiah

lined up for it every day along with his colleagues. He half-listened to

Mr. Devon as he waited. 



“Something should be done,” Mr. Devon said, in the middle of a

speech Josiah hadn’t heard the start of.

Mr. Devon was new as well, six months to Josiah’s year. He

taught sixth grade while Josiah had all of ninth. With only fifteen kids

in the year, it wasn’t a great challenge, but he savored it. Molding

young minds, teaching confidence…



“…sinful tendencies ought to be curbed.” 



“What’s happened?” Josiah allowed Mr. Devon to distract him as

Ms. Carter in front of him filled her mug.



“You’ve got two boys in your class engaged in homosexual

behavior,” Mr. Devon said. He pointed at Josiah, as if there might be a

doubt who he addressed. 



“Which two?” Josiah kept his tone level as he tightened his grip

on his mug.



“Patrick and George.” No need for surnames here. Apart from the

Johns and a trio of Marys, no student shared the same name. 



Ms. Carter stepped away from the coffee pot. Josiah took his time

filling his. “I’m sure you’re over-reacting.”



Mr. Devon snorted. “I assure you, I’m not. I’ve seen things at my

preparatory school, let me tell you.”

Josiah had no doubt he would

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 467

tell and swallowed a sigh. No other teacher insisted the others address

them by their surnames out of hearing of the children. They’d all been

raised in this school system, too, and most had no idea why Mr.

Devon, the scion of a wealthy farmer upstate, had chosen their town to

begin his teaching career-or why he’d chosen to teach in the first

place since his family had a thriving business and Mr. Devon showed

none of the usual traits that called someone to teach. 



“You should speak to them,” Mr. Devon said. “Tell them right off

that what they’re doing will find them a place in Hell. Or do you want

me to? You’ve got a soft hand with your students. I’ll be glad to take

the paddle to their bottoms.”



Josiah left his mug on the counter and turned around. “If you so

much as touch them, I’ll have your teaching license. You stick to your

students and I’ll stick to mine.”



“I was only trying to help.” Mr. Devon raised his hands in

surrender and at last found interest in the stack of exams awaiting his

attention. 



Taking his mug, Josiah sat down at the lounge’s other table with

Ms. Carter. She gave him a sympathetic smile. As the only person in

the school-Hell, in the town- who knew Josiah’s secret, she’d watched

the exchange with a worried expression. Josiah offered a weak smile

in return and bolstered himself up with a sip of the vile brew. He had

his Shane at home. Only Ms. Carter knew they weren’t cousins. One

day one of them would marry Ms. Carter to build the pretext up more.

Patrick and George passed notes to each other in class and Patrick

followed George everywhere, supposedly protecting him from the

larger children, but Josiah saw something more in the fleeting touches,

the preening and possessive maneuvers. As long as these children

were under his care, he’d see to it that the Mr. Devons of the world

stayed well away. 



And he’d pray they’d grow up to find a society that didn’t expect

them to marry anyone but each other.


Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 468

****



Jasmine flipped through the resumes on her desk to see if any

caught her eye. As usual, Mr. Supernat had left the task of selecting

the final candidates for the consultant’s job to her. Human Resources

had vetted the initial applicants, and this stack of twenty came from

them. She would whittle them down to five and present them to her

boss. 


The candidates were all qualified, but she kept returning to one.

Major Patrick Reynolds. Patrick. Something about that name niggled

at the back of her mind. She set it on the corner of her desk to

consider later, already deciding to add him to the five. Now she had

four more to choose. 


“About done?” Mr. Supernat breezed by her desk and swept up

Major Reynolds’ resume. “This the one?”


Jasmine clutched the stack, her fingers separating two resumes

she’d planned to add to the Major’s from the rest. “I have a few others