Senses 03 - Love Comes Home (DA) (MM) (3 page)

“But he’s ten,” Greg said.

“And as a sighted person, he’s finding his way. You have to let him do that same thing as a blind person,” Howard told him. “Before we leave, I’ll have Gordy give you my phone number. I’d be happy to talk to you some more, and talk with Davey if you like.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” Greg said.

“Anytime,” Howard said and then slowly descended the stairs with Token on one side and Gordy on the other.

A little girl raced across the yard to them, pigtails flying. Gordy caught her and lifted her up as she laughed.

Tom wasn’t sure if Greg wanted to talk and figured he’d leave him alone, but then Greg said, “Davey was always into sports. Now what is he going to do?”

Tom shrugged. “Google ‘sports for the blind’ or find out if there are programs for kids who are sight impaired. There have to be some in this area. It might be good for him to be with other kids who have the same problem he does.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Sometimes with kids they just need to know they aren’t the only one in the world with that particular problem.” Tom knew that feeling well too. He’d hidden who he was from his family for a long time. None of their friends were gay, and their circle was so closed and limited that he rarely got to see outside of it until he was out of the house. Then the world that opened up to him had been eye-opening.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Greg observed.

“I was. The whole gay thing really threw me as a kid. I really thought I was the only person in the world like this. My parents never talked about things like that with me. Hell, they didn’t talk about much with me. They were too caught up in their parties, benefits, and causes. I was raised by nannies until I was ten or eleven, and then I was more or less just around. Mom and Dad were there, but still wrapped up in their lives. So I was left to figure things out on my own or hear stuff from the other kids.” Tom shrugged. The past was the past and he really didn’t want to dwell on it or complain about it while at a party. “How about we join the party and have a good time? They’re setting up a volleyball net. If you grab Davey, we could make a good team.”

“Yeah, let’s,” Greg said. “But I need another beer for that.”

It seemed as though they both did. Maybe volleyball was better with a buzz. He wasn’t sure, but the few beers seemed to make the game more fun. They played for about an hour, until Ken called that the food was ready. The guests formed a line and filled their plates, then sat on the chairs, at tables, or on blankets on the lawn. Tom settled for a spot in the shade. Greg and Davey joined him, still a little flushed from the game, but happy and smiling.

“What do you do?” Greg asked him.

“I’m a sort of money manager,” Tom answered vaguely. “And you?”

“Architect,” Greg answered.

“Wait a minute, you… are you
the
Greg Hampton?” Tom asked with a grin.

“You know who I am?” Greg asked. Most people outside architecture circles had probably never heard of him. It wasn’t like he’d designed a famous building like I. M. Pei or Santiago Calatrava.

“You designed a home—” Tom couldn’t help snickering. “Maybe it would be best to call it a mansion-slash-castle—for some friends of my parents. They raved about you.”

Greg smiled. “That’s nice to hear, and I remember that job. It was an interesting building with definite challenges. I swore they wanted Hearst Castle on a McMansion budget.” Greg’s smile faded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t talk about clients that way, especially if they’re friends of your family.”

“No. The Fosters are cheap. They made their money the old-fashioned way: inheritance. And they’ve kept it the even older way: they pinch every penny. King Midas has nothing on those people.” Tom chuckled silently to himself, remembering the time he’d gone over to their huge house to play and the only toys the kids had were ones their mother had picked up at yard sales. Half of them were broken, but it was all the kids had. “But they were certainly impressed with you, and they love the house.” Tom had loved the house from the outside as well. The inside, not so much, but he’d always blamed that on the Fosters and their cheapness, not the architect. The spaces inside had definite bones of grandeur, but the cheap furnishings and ugly carpet pulled the eye.

“Dad’s working on a cottage now. I want him to do one just like it for me someday,” Davey said. He’d been quiet while he slowly ate.

“You bet, Davey,” Greg said, tugging his son into a light man hug. It wasn’t long before the kids were running and playing again. Davey finished eating and joined them. “He’s having a great time.”

“I know you’re worried, but he seems to be adjusting pretty well,” Tom observed.

“Davey compensates, but there are things he can’t compensate for.” Greg sighed. “Sorry, I don’t want to just talk about my problems. This is a party, after all.”

“It certainly is,” Ken said as he approached. “That means there’s plenty more food, and dessert will be brought out in a little while.” Ken looked like he might join them, but then Tom turned around and saw Patrick signaling for Ken’s attention. “I’ll talk to you in a few minutes,” Ken said. He hurried away, and Tom and Greg found themselves alone once again.

Tom hadn’t figured that Greg was gay, him having a son and all, but when he turned back around, he realized he was being checked out. Not that he minded in the least. Greg was handsome, trim with rich blue eyes and brown, wavy hair. Tom had always liked the old silent movies, and Greg reminded him of one of those stars, with his great cheekbones and incredibly expressive face. He looked away when Tom caught him peeking. Tom lightly touched Greg’s hand to let him know it was okay.

Greg smiled at the gesture.

“Can I ask you something? If it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer. I’m assuming you’re gay,” Tom said a little nervously, in case his gaydar was way the hell off.

Greg nodded. “How did I get Davey?”

“Yeah. There has to be a story there,” Tom said. He loved a good story. As a kid, he used to wear his nannies hoarse asking them to read him “one more story.”

Greg shrugged. “I was married.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose.

“It was total stupidity on my part. I got Davey’s mother pregnant, and her father very nearly came at me with a shotgun. I did the right things and married her.” Greg looked up into the canopy of leaves overhead. “It was both a mistake and the best thing I ever did in my life. Joyce was the mistake part. Once the honeymoon was over, and that happened dang fast, we were at each other’s throats. It got better between us once she had the baby, and we stayed together for a year after that. I was busy trying to build my career and reputation, while Joyce only wanted to cat around. Turned out I was only the guy who married her.”

“So is Davey yours?” Tom asked.

“Yes. She tried to claim he wasn’t during the divorce, but I had tests done, and he’s definitely mine.” Greg smiled. “That actually worked in my favor, because after that I sued for full custody on moral and behavioral grounds. She’d admitted to sleeping around, and my lawyer pulled in a parade of guys she’d been with. Seemed none of them liked her very much out of the sack,” Greg added with a certain amount of glee. “The nail in Joyce’s coffin was when one of her friends came forward and testified that she’d told her the only reason she was fighting for custody was to get the child support. Joyce’s friend said on the stand that Davey would have a better life with me than he ever would with Joyce.”

“Wow. Does he ever see her?” Tom asked, shifting his gaze to where Davey was playing. He saw Greg do the same and loved the smile that curled on his lips.

“Sometimes. Officially she has visitation, but she lives in Florida now and she hasn’t exercised those rights in a while. I told her about Davey’s vision, and I could swear I heard nothing but relief. She has her career and her own life now—thankfully, no more children.” Greg shook his head. “I can’t understand how she could walk away from her own child. If it had been me and the courts had ruled the other way, I’d still be fighting for Davey.”

Tom heard the hitch in Greg’s voice. “A few years ago I had a boyfriend. At the time Charles and I were pretty serious. We were about to move in together and had talked about children. But….” Tom shrugged. “Things went sour after that.” He tried not to sound bitter and played down all the reasons why things had gone bad.

“I’m sorry. Davey is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Does he know you’re gay?” Tom asked.

Greg laughed. “Yes. He keeps asking me when I’m going to find a man and settle down. He says he doesn’t care if he has two dads. One of the boys on his softball team has two moms, and of course he knows Ken and Patrick through Hanna.”

It suddenly became quiet. Greg shifted and looked over to where the kids had been playing. Everyone stood still. Hanna, Ken’s twelve-year-old daughter, was walking slowly, feeling around. Then she stopped, and Tom saw her hand Davey his glasses. “He doesn’t like to talk about it, but he can only see the bare outline of things without his glasses.” The kids resumed their game, but Davey walked to the edge of the group and leaned against one of the trees.

Greg stood up and continued watching.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked, standing as well. He watched as Hanna spoke to Davey and then took him by the hand and led him back to where the kids were playing.

“I’m not sure,” Greg said. But whatever the problem was, it was short-lived, and Davey began playing again.

“Do you work on just one commission at a time or do you have multiple projects at once?” Tom asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Nice segue,” Greg said and sat back down. People began milling around on the deck, and Tom saw people descending the stairs with cake. The kids must have seen it too, because they came over en masse. “I take it you aren’t in the mood to fight for cake.”

“If I know Ken, there will be plenty,” Tom said. “You were saying….”

“I can usually handle a number of projects at once. How many depends on their complexity. Some clients only pay me to draw up the plans and then they find a builder to execute them. Others have me involved in the project until completion. I have a network of people I can contact for some of the more specialized requirements for a design. Once, a client asked for a home with New Orleans-style iron railings, and I got them in touch with an artisan in Louisiana who was able to fabricate what they wanted. Specialized ironworkers, woodcarvers, glass artists—all of those come into play at one point or another when you design the kinds of houses I do. Last year I had a couple in Pennsylvania, just outside Pittsburgh, who wanted me to design and then supervise the construction of their home. Davey and I spent three months out there. I was able to line up other jobs, and he went to school there for a while. It was hard on both of us, but it was what he wanted. I would have turned the job down if Davey hadn’t been willing to move. It turned out the client had a number of connections, so Davey went to a private school along with the client’s children and they gave him a specialized curriculum, so when he came back, he hadn’t missed anything.”

“I bet that was something,” Tom said.

“Davey didn’t want to leave. It was the best school experience for him. But this is home, and it was nice coming back.” Greg looked away as Davey approached, walking carefully as he balanced a number of plates.

“I brought you both cake,” he said, handing them plates.

“Thank you,” they both said, and Davey smiled and hurried back to where the kids had started to play again.

“He’s going to sleep well tonight,” Tom observed. He ate his cake and watched Greg without looking like he was watching. As they sat and ate, the shadows continued to lengthen. Tom knew soon it would be getting dark and the picnic would come to an end. “Look, I was wondering…,” he began, placing his plate on the grass and then fidgeting with one of the empty beer bottles. This sort of thing always made him feel like a teenager again. “Maybe you’d like to have dinner with me sometime?” It didn’t seem to matter how old he got; asking someone on a date always felt like the first time, stomach butterflies and all.

Greg didn’t answer right away. “That would be nice,” he said with a slight smile. “I haven’t been on a date in a while. When most guys find out I have a kid, they tend to turn the other way and head for the door pretty fast.”

“I’m not most guys,” Tom said seriously. He reached behind him and pulled out his wallet, then handed Greg one of his cards. It was a personal one, so it simply had his name and phone number on it.

Then it was Greg’s turn to fidget until he gave Tom one of his. “Use the cell number,” Greg said.

Tom took the card and placed it in his wallet. “Do you want another drink?”

“No, thanks. We need to go soon, and I have to drive.” Greg stood up and called to Davey.

Other parents were collecting their kids as well, so it was definitely approaching the time to leave. Tom gave Greg a hug and then released him. Greg collected Davey and then made the rounds to say good-bye, with both of them collecting hugs before leaving.

Tom wandered up to the deck and joined the others sitting around and talking.

“It looked like the two of you hit it off,” Ken said.

“We did.” Tom suddenly realized he’d spent the entire evening with Greg. “I hope I wasn’t rude.”

Both Ken and Patrick laughed and shook their heads. “Everything is fine,” Ken said and sat in one of the empty chairs with a sigh. He pulled a beer out of the cooler and opened it, relaxing after playing host all afternoon. “You weren’t being rude to anyone. Greg seemed to have a good time, and so did his son.”

“That’s good,” Howard said from just across the way. “I wonder who’s having a harder time with Davey losing his sight—him or his dad.”

“Greg’s being a dad. He’s concerned for his son. No one can blame him,” Ken observed.

“No, you can’t,” Howard agreed. “Not at all. Being blind isn’t the end of the world, but it isn’t the easiest thing in the world either. I can’t imagine what it’s like to see because I never could, but I suppose it would be like me learning I’d go deaf.” Howard shuddered, and Gordy took his hand.