The Road Home (32 page)
Burke leaned against him. “Do you think we really did anything?”
“Do you?”
Burke thought for a moment. He listened to the splashing of the other men, to their voices talking and laughing. He felt a lightness inside of him. Maybe it was all in his head, but did it matter? Had the spirits of Amos Hague and Thomas Beattie really visited them, and had they really helped put them to rest? It was something that could never be proved. But did he believe it?
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
CHAPTER 33
B
urke picked up a piece of cheese, put it in his mouth, took it out again. “I can't eat,” he said, wrapping the cheese in a cocktail napkin and stuffing it into his pocket.
urke picked up a piece of cheese, put it in his mouth, took it out again. “I can't eat,” he said, wrapping the cheese in a cocktail napkin and stuffing it into his pocket.
“Relax,” Sam told him. “Everything is going really well.”
This was true. The photographsâall thirty-six of themâwere hanging exactly where he wanted them. They were big, twenty-four by twenty-four inches framed. Each was a portrait of a man or men. Many of them came from the film he'd shot at Destiny. Others were new.
His favorite photo was one he'd taken of his father only a week before the opening. It had taken some persuasion, and a lot of help from Lucy, to get Ed to pose for him, but in the end he had done it. It was taken in his father's bedroom. Ed was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap. Behind him, on the dresser, were two photos. One was of him and Burke's mother on their wedding day, and the other was of him and Lucy standing in front of a field of yellow flowers, with their arms around one another's waists.
He'd hung it in a place of prominence so that it was the first piece people saw when they entered the gallery. So far everyone who passed through the door had stopped to look at it. But the only person whose reaction he wanted to see was his father's. He hadn't shown Ed the photo beforehand, partly because he wanted to surprise him, but also because he was afraid that his father wouldn't like the air of vulnerability the photograph revealed. The camera's eye had captured the face of a man who had been brought low by the death of one love and then revived by the unexpected arrival of a second chance. It was, Burke thought, both touching and inspiring, a portrait of the face of love, which could be both beautiful and cruel.
And Ed
did
like it, or at least Burke thought he did. His father's reaction was typically muted, but Burke had several times looked toward the door to see Ed standing in front of his own portrait, an almost childlike expression on his face, as if he were seeing himself for the first time.
did
like it, or at least Burke thought he did. His father's reaction was typically muted, but Burke had several times looked toward the door to see Ed standing in front of his own portrait, an almost childlike expression on his face, as if he were seeing himself for the first time.
Another favorite almost never made it into the show. It was the photograph of Will among the ruins of the farm, with the ghostly figures of Amos and Thomas behind him. He'd asked Will for his permission to use it, and at first Will had said no. But just one day before the opening he'd called and relented. He'd given Burke no explanation. Nor had he come to the show.
Burke couldn't believe how many people
had
come to see his work. Most of them he didn't know, but there were some familiar faces: Colton and Luke, of course, and Nan and Sophie. Dr. Radiceski was there with his lover and his father, who seemed particularly fascinated by the nude photos of the three bears, who were also there in person. In one corner Gaither was talking to Tanya Redmond, who had brought Freddie and was fighting a losing battle trying to keep him away from the food table.
had
come to see his work. Most of them he didn't know, but there were some familiar faces: Colton and Luke, of course, and Nan and Sophie. Dr. Radiceski was there with his lover and his father, who seemed particularly fascinated by the nude photos of the three bears, who were also there in person. In one corner Gaither was talking to Tanya Redmond, who had brought Freddie and was fighting a losing battle trying to keep him away from the food table.
“Do you think they're reliving the family drama?” Sam mused.
“I don't know,” said Burke. “As nice as Gaither is, somehow I don't see him inviting her to Thanksgiving dinner.”
“Personally, I think we should hook Gaither up with Dr. Radiceski's father. If he isn't a queen, I'll shave my beard.”
“Please don't,” Burke said. “I've gotten to be quite fond of that beard.”
“Only because it tickles your balls,” Sam teased.
“That's just an added bonus,” said Burke. He looked around the room, trying to see who was looking at what. The photographs were, of course, for sale, but for once he wasn't thinking about the money. He wanted people to
like
what he'd done. If they wanted to pay him for it, that was great, but it was more important to him that they understood what he was saying with his art.
like
what he'd done. If they wanted to pay him for it, that was great, but it was more important to him that they understood what he was saying with his art.
As he scanned the faces in the gallery, he realized that sometime during the past three months he had made friends. And not just casual friends.
Good
friends.
Real
friends. Friends he liked talking with. Friends who made him feel alive.
Good
friends.
Real
friends. Friends he liked talking with. Friends who made him feel alive.
And then there was Sam. After their first kiss at the pond, Burke had moved into the bed in Sam's room and had yet to leave. His clothes hung in the closet, next to Sam's; his toothbrush stood beside Sam's in the bathroom glass. Over the weeks the references to him returning to Boston had gradually grown less and less frequent.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Gaither said.
Burke smiled. “I was just thinking about things,” he said.
“How very specific,” said Gaither. “Hardly worth the penny. But I think what I paid for that photograph of our three ursine friends more than makes up for it.”
“You bought the bears?” Burke said. “You didn't have to do that.”
“Actually, I did,” Gaither replied. “Ginger made me a wager. If I could correctly identify the four obscure sexual practices, young Jonas would clean my house once a week for a month. In the nude. If I lost, I would buy the photograph.”
“Dare I ask what you missed?”
“I correctly defined shrimping, teabagging, and felching,” Gaither informed him. “I was done in by figging.”
Burke made a face. “I don't know what that is, either.”
“Well,” Gaither began, “it's when you take a piece of peeled ginger and stick itâ”
“There he is!” interrupted a loud voice.
Burke looked up to see Gregg walking toward him. He ran to his old friend and gave him a big hug. “You came!”
“Of course I did,” Gregg said. “Did you really think I'd miss your big night?”
“But you had to leave the city,” said Burke. “How did you survive?”
“Montpelier has a Starbucks,” Gregg answered. “And a gay B and B. As long as I don't leave the city limits, I'll be fine. Besides, I'm leaving on Sunday. And you're coming with me.”
“What?”
Gregg took his hand. “It's
time,
” he said. “Your leg is better. You've had some fresh air. You've taken some pictures. Now you need to come back to Boston. Fall is coming, and you know that's the only tolerable season there. You don't want to miss it. Besides, look what they've done to you. Is that flannel?”
time,
” he said. “Your leg is better. You've had some fresh air. You've taken some pictures. Now you need to come back to Boston. Fall is coming, and you know that's the only tolerable season there. You don't want to miss it. Besides, look what they've done to you. Is that flannel?”
Burke didn't say anything. He looked at Gregg's face. He'd almost forgotten that they'd once been lovers. That seemed a lifetime ago. He was no longer the man he'd been then, nor even the man he'd been the day he'd stepped out of Gregg's car and walked into his father's house. At some point that man had died and a new one had been born.
“Seriously,” Gregg said. “You need to come home.”
Burke looked across the room to where Sam was now standing, talking to Nan. Sam, as if sensing him, turned. He smiled, and Burke felt his stomach flutter. He looked at Gregg.
“I am home,” he said.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2010 by Michael Thomas Ford
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2010921529
ISBN: 978-0-7582-1854-4
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