Senses 03 - Love Comes Home (DA) (MM) (4 page)

“Not everyone is like you,” Gordy said lightly. “You’re as strong as they come. Davey is a kid. He’s seen the world, and that’s slowly being taken away from him. It must be hard knowing you have something now, but it will eventually be gone.”

“Exactly,” Tom agreed. “But Davey seemed to have a good time.”

“He’s nice,” Hanna chimed in, coming to stand next to her father. She whispered something to him, and Ken nodded. Hanna took Howard’s niece, Sophia, by the hand and led her inside.

“Hanna and Sophia are going to play games,” Ken told Howard.

“Are you sure it’s okay for Sophia to stay the night?” Howard asked. “You must have a lot of work to do to clean up.”

“Of course. They’ll have a ball, and Sophia will help keep Hanna occupied so we can get done what we need to. It’s mostly throwing away the trash and making sure the furniture is put away. Most people took their dishes with them, so it’s no problem.”

They sat and talked for another hour, then Howard and Gordy got up to leave. Tom figured that was his cue to leave as well. He got his dish, which had been scraped clean, and said good night before heading out to his car. Tom drove home and parked in the empty bay in the garage. He looked over at the two other cars and was glad he hadn’t taken either of them. Sure, they were fun to drive, but for a gathering like the one this afternoon, they were a little attention-getting, and Tom wasn’t out for attention, at least not today. He grabbed the empty bowl and got out, then closed the car door. Then he headed inside.

Every day he was thankful he hadn’t bought a big house. He’d grown up in a huge old place with more rooms than the family could use. This was a modest house. Granted, it was still bigger than he needed, living alone, but he loved the old place, with its wood-paneled staircase and tall ceilings. He couldn’t help wondering what Greg would think of it with his architect’s eye. The grand dame had style, and that was what had attracted him to her. He’d seen size over substance in many facets of his life, and that wasn’t what he wanted.

After placing his things in the kitchen, he settled in what he used as a family room and turned on the television. He wondered if it was too soon to call Greg, realizing of course it was too soon, and too late in the evening. He placed the card with his phone on the coffee table so he’d remember to call the following afternoon. He didn’t want to appear needy, even if he was anxious to see the man again.

His phone rang at almost eleven.

“How was the party?” his friend Skip asked, sounding a bit toasted. “You’re missing all the fun you could be having here.”

“Yeah, let me see. You’ve been to one club and are on your way to another. You can’t walk a straight line, and in a couple hours you won’t be able to stand up. One of the guys you’re with will either drag you home or you’ll end up in the bed of some guy you’ve never met before, wondering how in the hell you got there.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Skip quipped. “At least I’m having fun and not hiding away in the frozen north.” He began to giggle. “One of the dancers just stood in the doorway and waved at me”—another giggle—“and it wasn’t his hand,” Skip sang. “You can’t tell me they have guys like this in whatever hell you moved to.”

Tom settled on the sofa. Skip was just getting started, and he could talk for hours. It was the one thing he was really good at. “No, I doubt there are go-go boys in Marquette. Not that it matters, because there are really handsome guys here. They get their muscles from real work, not sitting in an office all day and then going to the gym and getting pharmaceutical help.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Skip said. “I don’t understand how you could leave New York, with everything it has, for… that place.”

“I’ve been here almost two years. You’d think you’d be used to it by now. Whenever we talk, you tell me about all these clubs. I’ve never been to most of them because they opened after I left.” Tom got comfortable and closed his eyes. “It’s quiet here and I can think. I’m making friends, and not just the kind who want to hang around me for my money.”

“I never did that,” Skip said indignantly.

“Of course not, but most of the other guys I dated did. Remember Romeo?” Tom challenged.

“Yeah. I saw him a few weeks ago. He’s not as cute as he used to be. But he’s still pulling that same ‘I need a big strong man to help me’ act. I can’t believe you fell for that crap.” Skip giggled again, and Tom heard music thumping in the background. Skip must have been approaching whatever club he’d been walking to.

“If I remember, you thought he was a nice guy, and we didn’t know it was all part of his bit until he started asking for money.”

“True,” Skip said.

The music in the background was louder now. “I take it you’re at the next club. Go have fun and I’ll talk to you later,” Tom said. Skip said good-bye, and they hung up. Tom placed the phone on the table and stared up at the ceiling for a while. Then he went upstairs.

A
WEEK
later, Greg got ready for his date. Tom had said they were going for a nice dinner, and he’d been looking forward to it for days. He was dressed, ready, and nervous. “Davey, Ken and Patrick will be here soon to pick you up. Are your things packed?”

“I’m all set, Dad,” Davey said.

“You’ve got pajamas and extra shoes?”

“Yes.”

“Toothbrush as well as your extra glasses?” Greg asked. “And your phone?”

“Yes. I got everything you put on the list.” Davey set his small suitcase by the door and looked out the front window. “They’re here,” he said excitedly and raced for the front door, knocking the coffee table as he passed it.

Davey didn’t stop, but Greg knew in his heart that Davey hadn’t even seen it. He wanted to pass it off as him being in a hurry, but Davey had been doing that for weeks and Greg couldn’t ignore it anymore. Jerry had said he should think about having Davey enrolled in classes for the blind, so they could start teaching him the skills he’d need to know, but Greg had been resisting, hoping for a miracle that obviously wasn’t going to come. Davey opened the door, and Greg pushed his momentary worry from his mind. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Ken and Patrick came inside. Davey hugged them both and immediately whisked Hanna to the back of the house to show her something he’d done on the computer. “I appreciate you taking him for the night.”

“It’s no problem,” Ken said. “We have the room, and they get along so well. Actually, I was wondering if you’d mind if I painted Davey. I’d like to use him in a series I’m doing.”

“If it’s okay with Davey, it’s fine with me,” Greg said with a smile.

“The concept is just coming to me, but if he’s willing, I’ll start with some sketches,” Ken said as Davey and Hanna came back in the room.

“I don’t have an objection.” Greg turned to Davey. “Uncle Ken would like to include you in one of his paintings, if that’s okay with you.”

Davey turned to Hanna, who smiled in return. “Daddy has painted me a bunch of times. He did some when I was sick and then afterwards too.”

“Would you paint me without my glasses?” Davey asked.

Ken smiled. “If that’s what you’d like. But let me do the sketches first and you can see what you think. Okay?”

Davey nodded and gave Greg a hug. Then he picked up his suitcase. Greg held the door and watched as the four of them walked out to Ken’s car. He waved, and Davey waved back before getting in the car. Greg watched as they drove away, and then he closed the door. He checked his watch. Tom was due in ten minutes. Greg hurried up the stairs and checked how he looked in the full-length mirror in his bedroom before going back downstairs to wait.

Tom knocked on the door a few minutes later. Greg opened it and welcomed him inside. Tom immediately looked around. “This is really nice. Did you design it?”

“No. The house was here, but I remodeled the inside. It was a normal ranch house, but I opened it up to create the larger interior space and then added the wing with the family room. There were so many houses like this built in the fifties, sixties, and seventies, and they’re very cookie-cutter. I wanted to show that you could take one of these rather bland houses and turn it into something special,” Greg explained as he showed Tom around. “There are defined spaces, but they’re defined by furniture and the beams rather than walls, which makes everything appear larger.”

“This is way cool,” Tom said, “and I love the way you used the tiger maple throughout. It unifies the various spaces and makes everything cohesive.”

“I debated whether I should include the kitchen in the space or not, but I’m glad I did. Davey can be doing his homework at the table while I’m making dinner, and I can see and help him.”

Tom nodded as he continued looking around. “Cool,” he said again, and Greg beamed. “I love the antique chandelier in the dining area. Everything is so simple, yet elegant. I love this place.”

“Thanks,” Greg said. “The bedrooms are down the hall. I haven’t had much done to them other than changing the hallway woodwork to match what I did in here and have the bathrooms redone. There are still some things I’d like to do, but those can come in time. The major project is done.”

Greg watched Tom look around, and then they got ready to go. “Where’s Davey?”

“He’s at Ken and Patrick’s for the night,” Greg answered. He made sure he had all he needed and led the way to the door. He held it for Tom and followed him out, locking it behind him.

He followed Tom out to his dark-blue BMW. The car was gorgeous, and Greg felt a slight pang of envy. “I’ve always wanted one of these.” He’d thought about buying one a few years earlier, but put the money in Davey’s college fund instead. That was much more important than driving an expensive car.

“I really like it,” Tom said. They got inside the car, and Tom backed out of the drive. “I made reservations for us. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so I took a chance and chose good, basic food.”

Greg had been expecting someplace fancy, but Tom took them to a small restaurant just off one of the main commercial streets.

“It’s really good Italian—basic, but well done.” Tom parked, and they got out. “I hope this is okay.”

“Of course,” Greg said as he followed Tom inside. It was small, but the scent of garlic and herbs was a bit of heaven. They were shown to their table and given menus by the hostess. Greg glanced at the menu, but spent more time looking at Tom. After a few moments, he knew he’d been caught watching and blushed a little. Tom smiled and placed his menu on the table, openly looking at him.

Neither of them talked, and Greg started to wonder if they had anything to talk about. At the party they’d spent hours together without a lull in the conversation, but they’d talked mostly about Davey, and Greg didn’t want to spend his date talking about his son. There had to be something. “Do you play any sports?” Greg asked.

“In college I was on the lacrosse team,” Tom said with a grin. “We were a rowdy and raucous group, as you’d expect. I also did some intramural sports, like baseball and basketball, mostly because it was fun.” Tom shifted slightly. “I found out pretty early on that I’m very competitive and don’t like to lose. Most of the guys in lacrosse were like that. But the intramural stuff didn’t feel nearly as competitive and I could sort of let that part go. It helped me focus on what was important. How about you?”

“Baseball all the way. My dream as a kid was to play pro and make it to the big leagues. It might have worked out, but other opportunities presented themselves, and I chose architecture instead.”

“Do you coach or anything?” Tom asked.

The server approached, and their conversation halted while they listened to the specials. Then they each ordered a beer.

“Where were we?” Greg asked. “Oh yeah, coaching. I thought about it, but I really hate it when fathers coach their own kids. Either they end up playing favorites or are too hard on their kid. Neither is good, so I’ve helped out with Davey’s Little League team and volunteered and stuff like that, but I don’t coach.”

“I always wondered if I would have the patience. I like kids, but being around fifteen or sixteen ten-year-olds is enough to try the patience of a saint,” Tom said, and Greg nodded his agreement. Sometimes the noise alone could be overwhelming.

“I agree, but someone had to do it, otherwise the kids lose out. The last two years he played, Davey had great coaches. One had been coaching for years, and he was so good with the kids. Never yelled or even raised his voice. He never had to. The kids wanted to please him so badly that it was never necessary. Then Davey’s last year, one of the other boys’ father coached. He seemed to strike the balance really well. But there was sometimes tension. It’s normal, but he was a fair man and a good coach. But Davey couldn’t play the entire season. His vision got too bad.”

“Did Davey enjoy playing?” Tom asked.

“He did. He was good at it. Coordinated, could catch and hit.” Greg couldn’t keep the pride out of his voice and a smile off his face. “I had hoped he’d be better than I was.” Greg shrugged. It wasn’t to be.

“Has he played anything else?” Tom asked, and just like that they were on the subject of Davey. Greg realized he’d brought it up and it was probably inevitable.