by Elle Keaton
The 911 operator took the information from Travis, and after she made sure that Otto wasn’t in danger anymore, she said an officer would be over as soon as possible.
“Just my luck, a good Samaritan. Can’t a bad Samaritan find me one of these days? Do you know how much paperwork this is going to be? They’re never going to catch the guy.”
“What about cameras?” Travis pointed to one in the corner over the cash register.
Otto looked to where Travis was pointing. “Oh, ha, no. That’s a cleverly disguised shoebox. Do you see any cords?”
Now that he was looking closer, he could see it was just a white-painted box with a tube, only vaguely looking like a surveillance camera. “Well, that sucks.”
“So, what brings you to the neighborhood? Just out and about do-gooding, were you?” Otto seemed determined to keep the conversation light, so Travis obliged him, but he wasn’t leaving until the cops arrived. He could see Otto trembling.
Travis didn’t know what to do with himself and didn’t want to intimidate Otto with his size, so he stayed on the other side of the counter, leaning his hip against it.
“I was over at DiscMan selling a bunch of games.” Somehow Travis ended up telling Otto the whole story of how he and Rod finally got together.
Otto’s dark eyes widened. “And you just found the note today? While you were next door? That is so romantic! It makes getting robbed completely worth it. I need to hear everything again. Repeat, with more detail.”
A few customers tried to come in, but Travis waved them off, saying the store was closed for inventory and to try again tomorrow. By the time the two of them heard the crunch of gravel outside announcing the arrival of the SkPD, Travis had been through the story twice.
“Your own mom. Tragic,” Otto breathed. “What’s going to happen?”
“She was released, and my ex didn’t press charges. I guess since she doesn’t have a criminal record, nothing much will happen. I feel terrible for my dad; he had no idea. He tried to talk to her, and I know he’s paying legal fees and she has to go to counseling, but she didn’t even go home. She’s staying with a church friend instead. I guess they are separated.”
Otto shook his head. “Your dad sounds amazing. It’s good to know there are people like him in the world and they aren’t all going to turn on us.”
There was a tap, and the front door pushed open. Travis was startled to see the same hulking blond detective who had responded when Rod found Jasper. But Skagit wasn’t all that big, he supposed.
Otto stopped talking. Travis wasn’t people smart, but it was pretty clear that Otto was a talker, and being quiet meant he was nervous again. Travis stood and met the detective at the threshold.
“Travis Walker.” He held out a hand. “Good—or I guess not good—to see you again. Otto’s over here.” He led the detective over to the counter where Otto was waiting. Otto had backed up against the wall with his arms wrapped protectively around himself.
Jorgensen took his suit jacket off as he approached.
“Here, wrap this around your shoulders. You look like you might be going into shock.”
Mutely, Otto took the proffered jacket and wrapped it around himself. He was enough smaller than the detective that the jacket was more like a robe.
“Is there somewhere else we can go so I can take your statement? Maybe we should have someone check out that bump on your head.”
Otto declined the suggestion of medical attention. “I live upstairs,” he replied with a shrug.
“Is it okay if we go up? I think you’ll be more comfortable in a different space. Am I right?”
Otto nodded.
“Do you want me to come along?” Travis asked.
“Might as well get your statement while I’m at it.” Detective Jorgensen seemed resigned to Travis’s presence.
“I wasn’t asking you, I was asking Otto.”
“I know.”
Otto seemed surprised Travis had asked permission, but after a second he nodded. After shutting and locking the front door, he led them toward the back of the store where a colorful curtain hung. He pulled it aside to reveal a doorway and a set of stairs heading upward. They followed him upstairs, Otto keeping the detective’s jacket tightly wrapped around himself.
The apartment took up the second floor of the house; even so, it wasn’t very large. At the top of the stairs, what used to be two bedrooms had been combined to create a living room and tiny kitchen. There was a deck the size of the porch roof that looked out over the street. There was a small bathroom and a bedroom, and that was it.
It was probably perfect for Otto, but with Travis and Detective Jorgensen, the space felt very small. It didn’t take too long to get Otto’s and Travis’s statements. Travis had texted Rod that he was going to be late picking him up; hopefully Gloria and Jasper wouldn’t drag him into mischief before Travis could get there.
Jorgensen stood up from the chair he’d been occupying. Otto stood too, and again Travis was struck by the sheer bulk of the detective.
“How are you not a cowboy or something?” The words came from Otto, but Travis had been thinking them.
The detective smiled. Travis had to admit that the man was incredibly handsome, especially when he broke out a smile. “If I was a cowboy, who would catch all the bad guys?”
Travis watched as a breaker in Otto’s brain short-circuited. He shook his head and muttered something, but all Travis caught was “horses,” “Levi’s,” and “criminal.” Otto realized both men were watching him and turned a shade of red Travis hadn’t thought possible.
“Whatever, fine, no cowboys. This day hasn’t been all that bad. Even though I was robbed, and the coward took the fifty dollars I had in the cash box, it brought two of the best-looking men I’ve seen in far, far, too long into the store. I’m calling that a win. And I got to hear the best story.” He turned to Travis. “I need to know the end of this, okay? You can’t just waltz in here, save me from a robber, tell me a love story, and then not come back and tell me the ending.”
“I didn’t save you from a robber.”
“Whatever, details. Promise.”
“I will come back and bring Rod with me so he can meet you. I promise.”
Jorgensen followed Travis back downstairs and outside. Otto let them out and locked up behind them. He left the “Closed” sign up, saying he’d had enough for one day, and promised Jorgensen he would have a security company come out and install real cameras.
Jorgensen’s ugly, obviously police issue, sedan was parked next to Travis’s truck.
“The kid’s case is still open, but there’s not a lot of leads.”
Jorgensen did remember him. Travis hadn’t been sure; the detective had been almost entirely focused on Otto.
“Rod’s been staying updated, as much as he can through Maureen James.”
“It sucks. From everything we know, Belinda Ransom was a single mom trying to make it. There’s no sign of Jasper’s father, if she even told anyone who he was. That’s about all we’ve got.”
Travis thought about the little boy Rod was having lunch with and about family and what family meant. He felt lucky to have his dad and his sister (and Rod) at his back. So many people had lost more than he had, and it was pure luck. He could have been born into any family. He was lucky to have been born into the one he had.
Yes, he was still trying to get his head around his mother’s behavior, and he probably would never be able to understand her reasons, but all in all they were healthier now without her hate seeping into everything they did.
Family was Abs and his dad, of course, but also Rod, as well as Gloria, Rod’s dad, and his family. Cameron and Ira, probably. And Jasper Ransom… Travis suspected he would fit well into the motley crew that made up his reimagined family.
21
“What?” Rod stared at Travis, but Travis was watching the road.
“I witnessed a robbery today, and I promised to take you to meet Otto, the owne
r of the store, because he thinks our story is romantic.”
Rod slumped back against the seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s romantic about me being stupid?”
“I found the note.”
“What note?” Rod had no idea what Travis was talking about.
Now Travis did quickly glance at Rod. “The note you left me at Thanksgiving.”
Warmth crept into his face. Rod knew he was blushing. “Well, that’s embarrassing. I thought you found it months ago.”
“Why is it embarrassing?” Travis seemed genuinely confused.
“Jeez, Trav, I was too much of a coward to tell you how I felt, so I wrote a note and ran away. That is embarrassing.”
“You didn’t know, it’s not as if I gave any clues. You shouldn’t feel that way. I didn’t even know I loved you. How stupid is that?”
“Yeah, but I do anyway.” They were driving up one of Skagit’s busier streets where lots of shops and restaurants were located. The truck was reflected in the windows as they passed by.
Neither spoke for a little while. Travis was probably mulling over Rod’s behavior. Then, of course, they both spoke at once.
“Trav—”
“What do—”
Rod chuckled. He was nervous as hell. “You go.”
“No, I was just talking. What were you going to say?”
He took a breath. He could do this, right? He and Travis were solid; if they disagreed, it wouldn’t be the end of their relationship. They could talk things through like big kids.
“I’ve been thinking.” Rod couldn’t decide if he was going to stare out the windshield or at Travis to watch his reaction. He decided on Travis. “Um, have you ever thought about kids? Like having them? I mean, not having them having them, because except in fiction that is just not possible, but have you ever thought about maybe adoption or something? Or fostering?”
Travis grinned, the big one that Rod loved, that looked like he’d just won the lottery. “Are we talking about kids in general or a kid specifically? Because yes.”
“What yes? I mean, yes, I am, you bastard, you know I am talking about Jasper.” He punched him in the shoulder. “Sometimes I hate you. Would you consider fostering Jasper?”
Travis rubbed his biceps, but he was still grinning. “That hurt!”
“It was supposed to.”
They turned the corner to their street. Before answering, Travis pulled his truck to the curb and set it in park. “Do we have to get a minivan? I am not driving one of those.”
“Trav, I was thinking about one specific kid, not a human zoo. No, but I do need to replace my truck. How did we get off track? Wait, are you saying yes?”
“As long as we have a lock on our bedroom door.” Trav unbuckled his seat belt and leaned into Rod. His hand came up and caressed Rod’s cheek, then he kissed him. They made out in the truck for a few minutes like a couple of teenagers. “But seriously, you shouldn’t ever be embarrassed to tell me, or ask me, stuff. I already know everything about you. Remember seventh grade?”
Rod huffed a little laugh. It was true, Trav did know everything. “I can’t explain why I feel shy or nervous sometimes. There’s a part of me that’s always scared, I guess. A part that has a really hard time believing that we are for real. That part of me is always second-guessing and reminding me of the times I’ve failed. I know it’s stupid, and I try not to listen, but when I am feeling uncertain, that voice can be hard to ignore.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“Yes what?” Rod had lost the thread of the conversation between sucking on Travis’s face and exposing a part of himself he was ashamed of.
“Yes, I love you. Yes, it’s forever. Yes, I want to see if we can make Jasper a part of our family.” He leaned away and opened his door, stepping out onto the street.
Rod sat for a minute, blinking, wondering if he had heard right and knowing that he had. He unlocked his door and nearly strangled himself trying to get out.
“You need to unbuckle, dude. Now, that is something to be embarrassed about.”
“Fuck off.”
“No.”
Travis grabbed him in a familiar headlock-slash-hug. When he was released, Rod found himself on the receiving end of another passionate kiss. When he was done, Travis grabbed Rod’s hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked to the front door.
“So, what do we need to do?” Travis asked.
22
“Dad,” Travis started, “I know this is a bad time, but you’re here, and I want to talk to you about something. Something I’ve already mentioned, but now I think I’m really ready.”
Michael glanced at him before focusing his attention back on the road. They were on their way to the farmers market to meet up with Brandon Campbell and his wife, Stephanie. “Shoot.”
Lenore had served his dad with divorce papers the week before, citing irreconcilable differences. Michael had signed them, telling Abby and Travis there was no point in fighting it. Now came the hard part: splitting up two lives that had been, by and large, lived together. Travis felt terrible for what his dad must be going through.
When his dad had told him, Travis had automatically offered an invitation. “Come visit for a few days.”
Michael was leaving the lawyers to do the hard work of sorting out finances, for now. Most of the family land was held by the business, something Travis’s mom had never had much of a hand in. Regardless, it was going to be a long road for both of them.
Travis had tried reaching out to Lenore after the incident, but after months of horrible texts, all he had now was silence. She refused to talk to him in any way. It was surreal. He didn’t understand how his mother, or anyone’s parent, could turn on or off affection like it was a commodity.
Something he recognized as loss hovered along the edge of his consciousness, but Travis pushed it away. Whatever corner his mother had turned in the past months or maybe even years, it affected his dad much worse than himself. Now he understood what Abigail had been talking about, and he’d been blind to it.
“Quit thinking so hard over there, and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“I’ve been thinking about grapes, Dad.”
“Grapes? Yeah, you mean wine?” His dad glanced at him again.
Travis nodded. “You know that parcel that grandpa left me, I want to put grapes on it—cabernet or Syrah maybe—and see how that goes. I want to open a tasting room out here. I mean, we could do one there too, but I want to open one here in Skagit. Until the grapes are mature, I can buy them from other producers in the state. I think with the farmers market and the demand for local produce—as long as it’s well planned, I could do well here.” The words came out in a rush, but Travis had done a lot of preliminary research and knew this was something he could do.
“What do you need from me?”
The question caught him off guard. “I don’t expect anything. But I want to make sure, I guess, that it’s okay with you.”
“I’d like to be a part, not as Walker Enterprises but as your dad. Would that be okay?”
Tears caught him off guard too. The road ahead blurred. He was a mess these days. He tried to wipe his eyes without his dad noticing.
“Yeah, Dad, I think that would be okay, more than okay. I want to show you something.”
“I thought we were meeting some friends of yours.”
“We are, they’ll still be there when we get there. Turn left at the next intersection.”
When they finally arrived at the farmers market and made their way to Brandon Campbell’s stall, his dad had called the realtor and his lawyers. And Abigail. As they strode down the crowded walkway, his dad kept tossing out ideas for a winery and tasting room. It had been a long time—if ever—since Travis had seen his dad that excited about something. Maybe they were both starting over, and maybe that wasn’t as frightening when you had family at your back.
Brandon’s stall was smack in the middle of the market. As a founding mem
ber and business member who made regular large donations, he was given the optimal location. Funny thing, Travis thought no matter where the stall was located his produce would always sell out. Brandon and Stephanie were well respected, Travis had learned, not only for their organic produce but for the not-so-secret work Brandon did with homeless youth in the area.
As Travis and his dad approached, Brandon spotted them and came out from behind the colorful display.
“Brandon, this is my dad, Michael Walker.”
The two men shook hands, and Brandon’s enormous shaggy dog lumbered over to see what the fuss was about.
“This is Pronto,” Brandon said by way of introduction.
“Pronto?” His dad repeated automatically, giving the dog a scratch on the head.
“He’s not, but Stephanie and I like to give our dogs a challenge.”
It didn’t take Travis long to fill Brandon in on his idea for a tasting room and boutique winery.
“There’s a lot of hops grown here too, and they don’t take so long to mature— from what I understand, there is a waiting list these days. Fresh Washington hops are very popular.”
Travis was so full of ideas, and hope, and the beginnings of a plan that he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. He grabbed his dad and squeezed him as tightly as he could, lifting him about an inch off the ground before putting him back down.
His dad pretended to brush himself off and straighten his clothing, but he was smiling broadly, something Travis hadn’t seen a whole lot of recently. It was great to see it.
A woman at the fresh-cut flower stall next door called over, “What’s all the excitement about?”
“Life is good!” Travis yelled back.
“Trix, come meet some new friends of mine.” Brandon motioned for her to come over. Trix whipped out a handwritten sign that said, “All bouquets $10, please pay into the retirement bucket,” placing it next to a can she had just for that purpose.
