Geoducks Are for Lovers (24 page)

“What are you two talking about? I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She puts her own hand on Gil’s.

“Patagonia,” Ryan answers.

“The clothing company?”

“No, the place. I’d love to take a trip down there.” 

Maggie stares at Gil. “You went to Patagonia?” She’s amazed by all his travels.

“I did. I went about three years ago. I needed to escape myself and the furthest end of the earth sounded like the right place to do it.”

“Did it work? Did you escape yourself?” Ryan asks.

“Not really.” Gil chuckles. “Turns out you can’t run away from yourself. Life? Yes. Yourself? No. It was an enlightening trip.”

Maggie does the math in her head. Three years ago would have been after Lizzy’s death, and after things fell apart in Gil’s marriage. She reminds herself he hasn’t been her best friend in a long time. There is a lot to learn about this Gil.

“Wherever you go, there you are.” Ryan quips. “Such a clichéd statement but true.”

“Absolutely.” Gil nods.

“Patagonia. Wow. I’ve never even been to South America,” Maggie says.

“I went to a dermatology conference in Sao Paolo once, but barely left the hotel,” Ryan says. “That’s the thing with medical conferences and traveling for work. You might as well be in any conference center in the world.”

“Medical conference in Brazil sounds like a cushy trip,” Maggie comments. 

“It was interesting. Not in the same way as hiking around Patagonia or a visit to the Galapagos would be. Different natural, or unnatural wonders, as it were.” 

“If you want glaciers, you could always hike to the Blue Glacier over in the Olympics.” Maggie gestures to the mountains looming to the west.

“Glacier? Really? Aren’t those disappearing?” Ryan asks.

“I think they are. Glacier Park will be glacierless in a few decades,” Gil answers.

“What will they call it then?” 

“The Park Formerly Known as Glacier? Or maybe a symbol?” Gil quips.

“Even more reason for you to come back out west, and hike the Blue Glacier while it still exists,” Maggie says.

“Can you imagine Quinn hiking a glacier?” Ryan asks, looking over the railing at Quinn on the beach.

“I’d do the trip with you. It’s pretty short. Thirteen miles up to the glacier, you can camp on the way up or on top. Three day round trip starting in the Hoh rainforest. Pretty cool.” Gil sounds excited about the prospect of the trip with Ryan. Maggie smiles, thinking another connection has been made in the group.

“Maybe you and Quinn can come back next summer and we’ll do a trip out to the Olympic Peninsula,” Gil offers.

“As long as Maggie is out here, I’d love to make an annual trip. I know Quinn misses her.” Ryan winks at Maggie. 

“It’s nice to be missed. Sounds like a great plan and I might even join you on your mountain trek.”

“Maggie May mountain climbing?” Gil gives her an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Where is the beret-wearing, red-wine-drinking, pale girl from college?”

“It was my idea to hike the bluff the other day, remember? I hiked in college, at least down to the beach on campus and occasionally through the thousand acre woods.”

“You had a thousand acre wood on campus?” Ryan asks. “That’s one big campus.”

“Technically, they have a thousand and ten acres. The tree huggers live in their tree houses deep in the forest.”

“People live in tree houses on campus? What kind of hippie school did you all go to?” Ryan asks sounding more curious. “Quinn failed to mention tree dwellers.”

“Not everyone lived in a tree house. I don’t think anyone lived in them—had sex, smoked pot, and pretended to be Thoreau for a while, and then it would rain or get cold so they’d abandon the tree house for the next hugger,” Gil explains.

“Evergreen is the ultimate Liberal Arts college, though most of us Greeners turn out okay,” Maggie says.

Ryan shakes his head. “We had dining clubs and ties. No tree houses or nude beaches for me.”

“Quinn told you about the nude beach?” Gil cringes.

“Wasn’t a nude beach by the time we got there. Sadly,” Selah says from her lounge chair, joining the conversation.

“Not fully nude, but I do remember some topless activity.” Gil waggles his eyebrows.

“Perverts in the woods is the reason campus cops shut down the nudity.” Maggie elbows Gil. “Perv,” she says, looking at him.

“Who needed the nude pervert beach when our apartment in Olympia had the roof deck?” Selah asks.

Gil smiles. “That was a good summer. I’m still grateful it was one of the sunniest ones on record.”

It’s Selah’s turn to say, “Perv.”

“I think even the doctor would back me up on being a healthy twenty-year-old boy.”

“Sorry, Gil, but breasts have never been my thing. Unless Quinn was naked sunbathing, you are on your own.”

Maggie glances at Selah. They both look at Ryan and giggle. 

“Was there ever any doubt? Quinn was all about no tan lines,” Maggie says.

Gil groans. “I was not expecting to witness that. Ever.”

On cue, Quinn walks up the stairs from the beach. “Whatcha talking about?”

“Your naked ass, as a matter of fact,” Ryan answers.

Quinn chuckles. “Summer of ’90?
Omnia Extares,
and all that school spirit.” 

Gil scrubs his face as if trying to erase the memory and the conversation. “I don’t think the college’s founders meant ‘let it all hang out’ literally. Then again, maybe they did.”

“No tan lines.” Quinn sighs.

“Don’t remind me.” Gil groans again.

Quinn plops down on the arm of Ryan’s chair. “Any reason we’re talking about that summer in particular?” He studies Maggie, and then Gil.

“No, we were talking about Ryan and Gil hiking the Blue Glacier next summer. Not sure how the topic turned to your ass,” Maggie says.

“Are you sure you weren’t talking about blue balls?” Quinn throws a look at Maggie.

“Glacier, not balls, Q.” She stares back at him.

Quinn shrugs. “Speaking of cold things, what about the rumor of sangria?”

“Oh, right! I forgot I put it in the fridge to chill.” Maggie gets up. “Who wants sangria?”

She fetches the pitcher and a stack of vintage iced tea glasses. When she returns, the sun moves behind the clouds and the air cools. Maggie pulls her sweater tighter around herself.

“Chilly?” Gil asks, rubbing down her arm.

“A little. I don’t think we’ll get rain, but it might be colder tonight.”

“We definitely should make another beach fire. Or a fire in the house,” Gil says.

Ben and Jo join them out on the deck.

“Speaking of tonight, will you manly men handle the grill? We can do the prep and dessert,” Maggie suggests.

“What’s for dessert?” Jo asks.

“I was thinking we could make s’mores around the fire,” Maggie says.

“Classic. Good choice.” Jo nods.

“Oh, you’ll never go back to plain bar chocolate and marshmallows after Maggie’s s’mores.” Quinn practically drools.

“There’s Nutella involved,” Maggie simply states.

“Nutella? I’m in.” Jo smiles.

“What is it with women and Nutella?” Ben ponders aloud. “Jo keeps it in the cupboard and eats it with a spoon. I’ve never seen her put it on anything.”

“That’s not true. I made Nutella pizza once,” Jo explains.

“Nutella pizza?” Gil and Ryan ask at the same time. 

“Like with pepperoni and sausage?” Gil looks horrified.

“No, no, no.” Jo makes a face. “Dessert pizza with only chocolate.”

“Phew. Thought you were talking about weird pregnancy food stuff.” Gil sounds relieved.

Ryan and Quinn exchange looks. Maggie watches them have a silent conversation, and then Quinn nods.

“So, speaking of pregnancy foods…” Quinn begins.

“You’re pregnant!” Maggie starts laughing.

“Um, Maggie, hate to point out the obvious, but Quinn lacks a uterus to be pregnant,” Ben argues.

Maggie’s eyes grow wide and she gapes at Quinn. Her mouth opens and hangs there.

“Q? Are you really?”

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Gil glances between Maggie, Ryan, and Quinn. 

Maggie’s eyes fill with tears. “Really? This is your news?” she asks Quinn, then places her hand over her mouth.

Quinn’s eyes are getting glassy. He nods and grabs Ryan’s hand. “We’re having a baby.”

“Oh, Q,” Maggie cries and launches herself around the table to hug Quinn. She’s full out crying now. She hugs Ryan, too. While the three of them hug and cry, the rest of the table sits in stunned silence.

“How’s Quinn pregnant? He doesn’t even look it. I mean, I know there have been advances and all, but I’m still pretty sure you still need eggs and a uterus,” he says, sarcastically.

“Oh, Ben.” Maggie laughs, wiping her tears. “Shut up.”

Ryan wipes his own eyes. “We have a surrogate, Ben. She’s carrying the baby for us. Donor egg, but our sperm.”

Ben nods in understanding. Jo and Selah both join in the hugging of Quinn and Ryan.

“Congrats, guys,” Gil says. “I didn’t even know you wanted kids.”

“We never thought kids were an option for us. We knew we might be able to adopt, but it wasn’t something we wanted to do. Hell, we never thought we’d be able to get married, let alone have kids of our own,” Quinn says, wiping away tears with the heels of his palms.

“So when is the baby due?” Maggie asks, using her sleeve to wipe her cheeks.

“January. We’re past the first trimester. That’s why we both wanted to be here this weekend—to share the news in person.” Ryan beams with happiness.

“Quinn’s having a baby.” Jo smiles with motherly pride.

“Our Quinn is going to be a father,” Selah says, sounding a little stunned, and a tiny bit betrayed.

“Selah, you will be the coolest Auntie ever. We promise never to make you change a diaper, or babysit until the kid can tell Monet from Manet.” Quinn attempts to comfort her.

Maggie raises her glass of sangria. “To Quinn and Ryan, the coolest dads any kid will ever have.”

Everyone clinks glasses and Maggie covertly rubs her nose on the cuff of her sleeve. 

Gil hands her a bandana from his pocket.

She takes it, wipes her eyes, and blows her nose, then tries to hand it back to him. Realizing she is trying to give him his bandana covered in her snot, she laughs. 

“Ew. I’ll wash it and give it back to you clean.”

“Keep it. I have plenty of them.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Wow. Quinn’s going to be a dad.”

“Wow indeed.” 

“You okay?” He softly asks in her ear.

“Yeah. I think so. It’s funny to think of our group still having babies. Kind of a miracle and miracles are always good.” Maggie reaches up and links her hand with his.

Gil squeezes her tighter against his side. “Life is full of surprises and unexpected joy.”

Nodding, Maggie observes Quinn and Jo, who are deep in conversation about names. Ryan and Ben shake hands, and do a weird man shoulder pat hug. 

“On that note, we should have some champagne and a proper toast.” Maggie offers.

“Any excuse to drink champagne is a good thing in my book.” Selah walks into the house with Maggie.

“I can’t believe those bastards didn’t tell me before,” Selah says to her as they grab flutes and a chilled bottle of Veuve Cliquot she keeps in the fridge in case of an emergency celebration.

“They probably wanted to make sure everything was okay. These things can go wrong.”

“I get it, I do. It’s just the gays were my ally in the fight against the breeders. Traitors.” Selah smiles.

“You have me. And Gil. We still live in the land of the childless.”

“Oh, Mags.” Selah hugs her. “Fucking Julien.”

This makes her laugh. “He isn’t the reason I didn’t have kids, Selah.”

“Yeah, maybe. He was still an asshole, though.” Hugging Maggie, she continues, “I do like you saying ‘me and Gil’ like you’re a team. It makes me happy.”

“I like it, too.” She nods as she skillfully opens the champagne—it barely emits a pop.

“Good. My work here is done. No more from me. I promise.” After crossing her heart, Selah pretends to seal her lips and then tosses an invisible key over her shoulder. “Let’s go toast to the gay breeders.”

Twenty-three

Shivering, Maggie pulls down the sleeves of her black long sleeved T-shirt, wishing she grabbed her vest from the house before coming down to the beach for the fire. Grateful she changed into jeans before dinner, Maggie notices it’s definitely cooler tonight than last night. 

Gil takes off his flannel shirt, revealing a gray thermal underneath, and hands it to her. 

“I can’t take your shirt. You’ll be cold.” Maggie tries to refuse.

“I’ll be fine once the fire gets going. Take it or you’ll have to walk back up to the house to get something.”

“Thanks.” Maggie pulls on the green plaid shirt, which swims on her, so she cuffs the sleeves. She inhales the Gil scent that surrounds her: sun, salt, and summer. Happiness.

Warmer already, Maggie grabs some thin pieces of kindling and stacks them in between the firewood. 

“We forgot the newspaper.” Ben searches for it around the logs.