Friends and Lovers (30 page)

Sam and Evangeline both burst into laughter this time. “Jack, they’re all grown and pretty much on their own. Our youngest is twenty!”

“In that case, will they be able to come down also?” Tom asked. “They’d be more than welcome to stay here at the ranch. God knows we’ve got plenty of room.”

“No, that’s okay, we wouldn’t want to put you out. We’ll get a hotel room.”

He scowled, and in spite of his best intentions, found himself reverting to his four-year-old self. “Sam, don’t be a doo doo head. We do have lots of room. Right now things are a little crowded because of the storm, but once that clears up…”

“Who’s staying, Jack?”

“The usual crowd, Tommy: the kids, their friends, Andretti, a lost sheep who needed rescuing...”

“What’s MyJosh doing here?”

“There’s a possibility his place by the river might get flooded out, so I told him to come stay with us.”

“Ah, Jack…”

“Yeah, well, don’t think we’re – ”

The lights went out.

“We’ll get the generator, Daddy,” Teddy sang out from the other end of the house.

Once the lights were powered back on, Jack said, “Come on. I’ll take you to meet the rest of the family.” He led the way to the family room.

The young widower and his children were huddled together in Jack’s big recliner.

Teddy, Josh, and Farmer were just coming from the other direction.

“Where’s Andretti?”

“He thought he heard a branch crack, so he’s checking it out.”

“I’ll go make sure he’s okay. That wind was blowing something fierce earlier.” Tom headed in the direction the boys had come from, and Jack scowled after him.

Andretti was a grown man, dammit. Tom didn’t need to be looking after him.

Before Jack could open his mouth and make a fool of himself in front of everyone, Andretti came to stand in the doorway, his clothes plastered to his body, which Jack had to reluctantly admit was fine.

“Sorry, I’m soaked. I’m just going to get changed.” His eyes narrowed as he studied Sam, and he glanced at Tom, who nodded. “Good work, buddy.” He turned and went to the room he’d stayed in when he’d first come to Savannah, squishing all the way.

Well, shoot. Was he the last one to find out about his brother? Granted he’d been reluctant to instigate a search, but only because he’d been afraid Sam would blame him for not doing something to stop their father from throwing him out.

Although realistically he knew a twelve year old boy couldn’t do anything.

“Farmer, would you mind telling Cath and Kira I’d like them to come here? There’s someone I want them to meet.”

Farmer looked at Sam and Evangeline curiously, but just said, “Sure thing, Mr. Jack.”

In a matter of minutes, Cath came in. Alone. “You wanted to see me, Daddy?” She frowned. “Kira will be along in a bit. She and Farmer are talking. She was on her cell phone before we lost power. If Farmer wasn’t here, I’d have said she was breaking up with a boyfriend again. Hello. Are you a friend of Daddy’s or DaddyTom’s?”

Sam looked confused. “Who’s…”

Teddy’s eyes had been going from the big man next to his father to his father. “Daddy?”

“This is your uncle, my brother Sam.”

“Uncle Sam?” Teddy gave an involuntary spurt of laughter. “Sorry. The name…”

Evangeline began to laugh also. “It’s never come up before, but you’re right! I’m Sam’s wife, Evangeline.”

“These are all yours, Jack?” Sam grinned. “I’ve got to say, you’ve been busy!”

He cuffed his brother’s shoulder. “Yes, they are, although not all by blood. Teddy and Cath are Sweets – ”

“And so is Josh.” His son slung his arm around his fiancé’s shoulder. “By injection,” he concluded innocently. “We’re getting married. Oh, cool! You can come to the wedding!”

Josh blushed bright red and ducked his head, but he was smiling. “Hello, Uncle Sam.”

“That’ll be okay, won’t it, BT?”

“You bet it will be! What’s a few more? My Mom will be in all her glory!” He lowered his voice, directing his words to Sam. “Your kids will come, won’t they? It’ll be nice for the boys to have some cousins coming who are close to their own age.”

“But…” Sam stared at Teddy and Josh. “… you’re boys!”

Jack felt his gut clench. Was he going to lose his brother as soon as he’d regained him? “You have a problem with that, Sam?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that I didn’t know we had any gay members in our family.”

“What do you think I am?”

“Huh?” Sam looked even more confused than before.

“Tommy!”

“Sorry, Jack, but I didn’t think it was my place to out you to your brother.”

Jack drew Tom against his side and frowned at his brother. “I’m gay, Tom is my partner, and if you can’t deal with that…”

The young widower stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re gay?” he squeaked.

“Hullo.” Tom looked him over carefully. “Who’re you?”

“George Standish. Mr. Sweet was kind enough to let me and my kids stay here…”

“Daddy found him at the Depot, BT.” Teddy was grinning broadly, and Jack had to refrain from swatting his butt. It wasn’t like George was some stray dog…

“That’s my Jack,” Tom said softly, and he leaned into Jack’s side.

Afterwards, when all the excitement died down and they were in bed together, he’d show Tom just how much he was his.

9. Christmas Day (the Wedding Day!) –

Tom looked around at the condition their home was in, empty glasses and the remains of the wedding feast on every flat surface, white rose petals crushed into the carpeting, and white crepe paper streamers and deflated balloons hanging forlornly from the ceiling. The small, intimate affair had grown to total more than seventy. Nothing compared to Josh’s brother’s wedding, but a good size for their little corner of Savannah.

And his mother had rolled up her sleeves and dug in, a martial light in her normally soft blue eyes, gleefully rising to the challenge.

Everyone had partied on, even after Theodore and Josh had slipped away to one of Savannah’s more luxurious hotels for their honeymoon. When they came home in a few days, they’d open their presents, which were still piled under the Christmas tree.

Now the house was quiet, except for Bobby Joe’s soft snores. He was curled up on the sofa in the family room, a throw tucked around him. He and Kira must have quarreled, because otherwise he’d have been sleeping in her room.

Tom shook his head, wondering if that romance was destined to fizzle. He liked Bobby Joe more than any of Kira’s previous boyfriends and had hoped they’d make a go of it.

“Are you okay, babe?”

Tom smiled at Jack, knowing his lover had been worried about him. Theodore and Josh’s wedding hadn’t gone off quite without a hitch. Caleb Sweet had preached once too often about the ungodliness of homosexuality, and the result was a few redneck goons from his congregation managed to get past the gates of their community and attempted to picket the boys’ wedding, hoping to put a stop to it.

A gentle conspiracy had kept the fracas from both young men. Theodore was upset enough that not only would no one from his father’s side, with the exception of his Uncle Sam, be attending the wedding, but neither would his own mother. And as for Joshboy, he was so busy trying to console Theodore, he didn’t have the time to grieve that his own family had written him off entirely.

The three men who’d thought to crash the wedding had laughed when Tom threatened to toss them out on their asses.

They didn’t laugh for long. Before Jack or Sam could step in to stop the slaughter, Tom took on all three of them and mopped up the front yard with them.

“Call the police,” he said in a cold voice while he wondered if he’d broken his hand.

“Tom, they could press charges!”

He was touched to see how worried Sam was about him.

“Not likely. They’d have to admit a homo beat the shit out of them. They won’t press charges.”

“But I will.” Jack gritted out between clenched teeth, furious that his father’s carelessly spewed words of hate could have destroyed his son’s wedding. “They’re on private property, and they weren’t invited. When I learn who let them past the gates…”

The result was three men who were taken to the emergency room, courtesy of him, and his friend James, the doctor, already invited to the wedding, was called and asked to come early to check out his hands.

“You’re damned lucky you didn’t break anything.”

“You think I didn’t learn from the last time?” When he’d tucked his thumb into his fist and wound up breaking it during a bar fight with some clown who didn’t understand that no meant no.

“In that case, I guess there’s hope for you yet.”

“Will I play the piano, Doc?”

James glared at him. “Not that hoary old chestnut, Tom. I know very well you play. What I don’t know is why you felt the need to get all medieval on their asses.”

“They were going to try to stop the wedding.”

Tom was gratified to see James’ mouth tighten. He was a peaceful  man, but idiocy like that left him seeing red.

“Dammit, I miss all the excitement.” He finished bandaging Tom’s hand, took a closer look at Tom’s face, and shook his head. “Are you going to be sick?”

He groaned. “I really wish you hadn’t said that!” His stomach had been roiling, but he’d been determined to ignore it. James’s mention of it turned the tide.

“Right. Come on.” He hustled Tom into the bathroom.

Jack moved him gently out of the way and held Tom’s head while he threw up.

“Sorry, babe,” he said as Jack wiped his streaming eyes with a damp washcloth James had given him.

“It’s my job, Tommy.”

“Holding my head while I toss my cookies?”

Jack dropped a kiss on his hair. “Loving you.”

Other than that, it had been a beautiful wedding, and Tom had cried when the boys exchanged their vows under a chuppah, the Jewish wedding canopy, which they’d planned as a surprise for him.

“Are you okay, Tommy?” Jack asked again.

Tom kissed him, pleased when he felt the tall one shiver. “I’ve got you, I’ve got the kids, I’ve got my Mom and my friends and my health.” He threaded his fingers through Jack’s, leading him to bed. “I’m perfect!”

10. The New Year –

It was the first day of the new year.

They were sitting around the dining room table, all the people who meant the most to Tom Hansom.

Theodore and Josh, home from their honeymoon.

Catherine, who had brought a young man home for the first time.

Kira, who was sitting beside Bobby Joe, toying with the remains of her dessert and every once in a while staring into space, seeing nothing, while Bobby Joe chatted with HisJosh.

HisJosh, smiling at Bobby Joe, the look in his eyes… Oh, shit.

Well, HisJosh knew Bobby Joe was straight. And it was apparently written somewhere that every gay man had to love a straight boy at least once in his life.

Tom turned his head and looked into the blue eyes of Jack Sweet.

And maybe, if he was very, very lucky, and God blessed him, his straight boy would love him back.

I guess you could say I’m a Noo Yawk kinda gal. So why, you might ask, have I been living down here in Southwest Florida, or as we like to call it, Hurricane Central, since September of 2000? Granted it doesn’t have the Yankees or the Mets, the Rangers or the Islanders. And granted you won’t find Broadway or Carnegie Hall, Central Park or Greenwich Village down here either. What it does have, however, are three big plusses. One, it’s warm (big surprise there). Two, there’s no snow. (again, big surprise.) And Three, I have time to write.

I guess you could also say that I’m a hopeful romantic; if you see my name on a story, it will have a happy ending.

I’ve been writing since 3nd grade, (fortunately, none of that survived) and was on the staff of my high school magazine. In college, my English 101 professor would read my essays aloud, which tickled me no end.

On and off throughout the years, I continued to write, and most of those snippets, ficlets, and what-have-you did survive. One of them became the premise for a short sci-fi story, which I consider one of my most inventive.

It was with the arrival of our second computer in ‘96 (the first was a total disaster; it just sat, intimidating the entire family.) and the discovery of copy and paste, which is truly a wonderful thing, that my writing once again took off.

My signature line, a quote by Ernest Hemingway, says it all:
Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it
.

So yeah. They’ll have to pry my cold, dead fingers off my keyboard.