Stable Hill

by Jodi Payne

  Don’t spook him. Take it easy. “It’s hard; it’s got to be. But it’s been a long time, Oscar. Maybe I—”

  “No, Russ. We—I can’t.” Oscar stepped farther away. He reached out and scooped up the keys to the minivan off the kitchen counter.

  “You can. Oscar, please. Wait.” Russ didn’t understand what was so awful about him. He was a good man. Oscar had felt that pull between them; he knew it. “We can take it slow, you know? I can do that. Really slow.”

  I want to help. I want to be there for you. I can be that guy.

  “I’m sorry, Russ. I shouldn’t have done that—let you… I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “You gotta start somewhere, Oscar. Why not—”

  “No. No, I don’t. I don’t have to start.”

  Russ swallowed hard against the cold ache in his chest and jumped as the screen door slammed shut.

  Chapter Seven

  OSCAR TORE out of the driveway of Stable Hill like he was being chased, but barely two minutes down the access road, he pulled over, turned on his hazards, and put the minivan in Park. The tears in his eyes blinded him and his hands shook so hard he didn’t trust himself with the steering wheel. He wrapped his arms around his ribs and let it out.

  He missed Emmett.

  It was hard, selling Dad’s farm.

  He wanted Russ.

  He’d be okay; he knew that. He was just overwhelmed. He let his head drop to the steering wheel and tried to breathe.

  God, he just wanted—

  He’d wanted Russ then. Russ was kind and warm. But then again, Jeffrey made him ache the other day with a smile. This obviously wasn’t about either of them. It couldn’t be. It was about him, about everything he was losing and how much he missed being touched.

  It took him a long while with the windows rolled down and the cool night air coming in to begin to breathe again, to pull it together enough that he could drive.

  Back on the road, he tried to turn the raw, empty feeling left by all that violent emotion into something that made some kind of rational sense, but it was so… big. So much bigger than he could get a handle on all at once. There was his responsibility to the girls. There was Emmett’s memory and the unpredictable grief that still, three years later, would catch him by surprise at a movie, in the hardware store, at the car wash. There was grief over losing Dad and losing the farm.

  There was the guilt.

  The longing.

  His own undeniable need.

  And then there was Russ. He felt awful for doing what he’d done. The man’s kiss had been real, he knew, genuinely and freely offered. He understood it came from a good place. But it reached right out to him and wrapped itself around a heart he thought had died with Emmett, finding one small, sensitive corner still beating. A fragile little piece that took joy in connecting—real joy in a validating, honest moment with someone else.

  It was shocking, and he didn’t know what to do with it. All he knew was he couldn’t stay in that space for very long. It was too personal. He felt too exposed. And he wondered if he’d ever stop feeling like he was betraying Emmett when he thought about dating again.

  Russ wasn’t the right guy, anyway. He was an employee and had been a friend to Dad. Oscar was sure it wasn’t Russ he wanted, not really; he just… wanted. It had been such a damn long time.

  He wasn’t any closer to answers when he pulled into his driveway, and he frowned at the beat-up black Honda Civic parked behind Rose’s car. He looked at it curiously. Some of Emily’s friends were driving now. Maybe it was Jessie or Keisha.

  He ducked into the garage so he could go through the kitchen and grab a beer. Rose met him before he got to the fridge. “There’s a boy upstairs.”

  “A what?”

  “A boy. With Emily.”

  “What? You let her take a boy upstairs? To her room?” He tossed his coat over a kitchen chair.

  “I didn’t let her do anything, Oscar. She just did it.”

  He looked at Rose. “Sorry. I’ll take care of it. Thanks, Rose.” They hadn’t talked about boys in the house. They hadn’t talked about boys much at all. That was his fault. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it, and Emily was a good kid, and—

  He stopped outside her closed bedroom door. Music was playing inside, and he leaned closer to the door to listen, but all he could hear was low voices. He was thinking about knocking, but then a deep voice let out a low laugh and instead he just barged in.

  Emily and the boy she was with looked up sharply from where they were sitting on Emily’s bed. The boy was sitting beside her, close, but both of them were fully clothed and the kid was showing her something on an iPad.

  It took him less than a second to regret not knocking.

  “Oz! What the hell?”

  “Emily. I would like to talk with you, please. And your friend needs to go home now.”

  “Oh my God, Oz. We’re watching videos! What’s the problem?”

  He took a deep breath. If this boy meant anything to her, he didn’t want to embarrass her any more than he already had. But the kid needed to go home now. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  He left the bedroom door wide-open and headed back downstairs, where Rose was waiting for him. Surprise, surprise. “He’s going home.”

  And sure enough, a breath later, Emily and the boy came downstairs. The boy seemed pretty relaxed, but Emily stormed right by them, pulling the kid out the door.

  He sighed. “I know. She’s seventeen. Not twelve.”

  “She is,” Rose agreed softly.

  “What would Emmett do?”

  “Exactly what you’re doing, sweetheart.”

  “Panic?”

  “Parent her the best he could.” He felt her hand on his back, warm and reassuring as ever, and he nearly burst into tears again. He was sure Emmett would do a better job right now. He went to the door and caught Emily kissing the boy, who was leaning against the Civic. He watched for half a second, feeling horrified, and then took a breath, shook his head, and paced back into the kitchen.

  When Emily finally came back in, she was upset. “You couldn’t have knocked, maybe?”

  He nodded. “I should have knocked. I’m sorry.”

  She looked at him for a long moment and then sighed and sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Rose had suddenly disappeared.

  “We need some rules, Emily.”

  “I’m seventeen, Oz. Come on. And I really like him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Brian.”

  “Does Brian have a last name?”

  “Schulman.”

  “Okay. Good. And you really like him?”

  “Yes. We weren’t doing anything, Oz. He was showing me iFunny videos. That’s it.”

  “He had his arm around you.”

  “Really? So what? He still had his stupid sneakers on. Jesus!” She pushed back from the counter.

  He rolled his eyes. “Wait, Emily. Hang on. Stay a second.”

  She did stay. But she was looking at him expectantly, like there was something specific she wanted him to say.

  Shit. Think, think, think. “Uh. I would love to meet Brian.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes. So how about you see if he can come for dinner this weekend.”

  “For real?” Emily relaxed. He’d swear he saw it in her shoulders.

  Oh, hallelujah. “You like him, right? He likes you too? You want me to trust him?”

  “Yeah. I do, Oz.”

  “Okay, well, then, I need to meet him. Then we’ll talk about rules.”

  “Okay. Yeah, cool. I’ll ask.”

  “Cool.” He smiled at her. “Good.”

  Emily jumped off her stool, slipped around the counter, and threw her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Oz.”

  He hugged her tight. Emmett’s firstborn, his husband’s namesake. He loved all of Emmett’s girls, but Emily had been his buddy since the first day they’d met. She was the first one of the
girls to understand how Oscar felt about her father, and she had simply accepted that Emmett could love a man the same way he’d loved her mom. She was the only one old enough to understand what was really happening the day they stood up together in court and Oscar adopted them all as his own. And she was going to be the first to leave the house, to move on and begin her own life.

  “You can let me go now, Oz,” she chastised softly. But it was said with love, he knew that. He could hear the affection in her voice.

  “Sorry. I think maybe I’m jealous.” He grinned at her.

  Emily laughed. “Oh, Oz. You’re such a derp.”

  He was. He was a total, uh, derp. “Good night, Em.”

  “Good night!” Emily took off for her bedroom, and his eyes followed until she disappeared up the stairs.

  He let out a long breath. Jesus. This single parenting gig was not for the fainthearted, but it seemed like maybe he wasn’t a total disaster at it.

  “Beer,” he said out loud. That’s where he’d been headed when he walked in the door. He was just reaching for the refrigerator handle when his cell phone rang. He sighed, pulled it out of his pocket, and answered as soon as he figured out who it was. “Hey, Jeffrey.”

  “Oscar. Sorry to bother you in the evening, but I wanted to let you know that I’m having some of the things we talked about delivered to Stable Hill tomorrow.”

  “Oh, great. I’ll let Russ know. And I’ll get over there early next week sometime to look at the paint and the floor in the upstairs hall. I guess I need to deal with Mom’s room too.” Oscar sighed. He felt like he was being haunted by memories today.

  “Not easy stuff, I know. You have a little time, Oscar. I won’t show it for a couple of weeks yet. Russ and I need to address a couple of issues with the barns first. You’re going to have to put a little money in, but I want to make sure you put it where it’ll get you the most return. You’re lucky, though. It’s really in fine condition and well looked after.”

  He smiled. Dad had been proud of the place, and Russ didn’t like to have time on his hands. It was a good combination. “Thanks, Jeffrey.”

  “Sure thing. Have a good night.”

  “You too.” He hung up the phone and pulled open the fridge.

  “Is Emily okay, Oscar?”

  He sighed and started to close the fridge again but changed his mind. He wanted that goddamn beer. “Yes. I told her I wanted to meet Brian, and she should invite him for dinner this weekend. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Oh, that’s grand, sweetheart. Just lovely.”

  “I guess.”

  “I’ll make lasagna. That’s what I made the first time Emmett brought you over to my house, do you remember?”

  “I do. And garlic bread, and a lovely red wine.” He remembered everything about that night. He’d brought her a rose plant in a green-and-white planter. She’d seemed so happy to meet him, and if she’d had any issue with Emmett dating a man, she hadn’t let on. He’d felt instantly welcome.

  “Well, we won’t have the wine for young Brian, hm? But men like hearty comfort food. It’ll put him in a mind to talk.”

  “You’re a wise woman, Rose.”

  “I won you over, didn’t I?”

  He laughed and opened his beer. She had. He thought it was Emmett’s smile, but maybe it had been the lasagna. He toasted the air, hoping to hell her lasagna would be enough for Brian.

  Chapter Eight

  RUSS HAD just returned from a ride out to the east pasture when he spotted the truck coming up the driveway. He shook his head. Seriously? How much stuff was Jeff bringing in? He nudged Angel off the grass and walked her down toward the house as the truck pulled up in front. Right behind it was Jeff’s damn shiny Mercedes.

  “Hey, Russ.”

  “Mr. Stokes.”

  “Oh, come on. Really?”

  Russ looked at him. “Door is open. I’m going to take Angel up to the barn, and then I’ll be down to help, okay?”

  “Sure. Sounds good, Mr. White.” Jeff’s tone was annoyed and sarcastic.

  That was just fine. Russ nodded and nudged Angel in a circle, and then they made their way back up to the barn. She went without an argument, but she tossed her head and fussed at him all the way up there.

  “Okay, what is it?” he asked her, getting her on crossties. “You think I was rude to him, huh?”

  Angel stood there, eyeballing him.

  “I know, he’s a good-looking man. You’re right. But he’s one of those guys you meet in a bar, you know? A fuck buddy is all. This is business. This is Oscar’s deal. I need to respect that.” He loosened her girth, opened the buckle, and let the saddle slide off into his arms.

  She stomped a foot at him as he hung the saddle pad to air out and set her saddle on a stand.

  “I’m telling you, girl. I know what I’m talking about.”

  He got a snort for his trouble.

  “Oh, fine.” He groaned. “Do you have to be so right all the damn time? I’m a little wound up, okay? I had a rough night last night. Oscar and I had this great supper and all. We were talking and getting along good. The steaks were amazing.” He took out a brush and started working her over with it, smoothing out her coat and combing out the dust. “I wasn’t gonna make any moves. I decided that before, I swear. I was just going to let the night be, keep it friendly, have a good time. I already knew he wasn’t interested. I don’t know what I was thinking. But he was right there all of a sudden, and….”

  Right there. Warmth and breath, and those beautiful eyes. “Something told me to go for it.” He sighed and started working over her withers with the brush. “I shouldn’t have listened.”

  She flicked him with her tail.

  “Very funny. I’m serious. I scared him off. That’s done.” Oscar had shut it down hard.

  He switched to her other side. “I shouldn’t take it out on Jeff, though. You’re right. That’s kind of a dick move even if he is… or was… just a fuck buddy.” He took a deep breath and let it out, then tossed the brush back into the tack bucket. “Okay, girl. I’m going to tuck you into your stall, and we’ll do turnout together later. Yes?”

  As soon as he took her off the crossties, Angel nudged his chest with her nose.

  “Angel.”

  She did it again. He grinned at her.

  “Okay, but only one, and only because you’re so full of good advice.” He pulled a peppermint out of his pocket and pulled off the wrapper, then held it out in the palm of his hand. She lapped it up, and he swore somehow she grinned at him.

  By the time he got her put away and made it back down to the house, the truck was gone and Jeffrey was inside unpacking. In the living room there was some artwork stacked against the couch, a whole bunch of fake flowers on the coffee table, and an upright piano stood against the far wall where a long table used to be.

  “Piano?”

  “People who buy these old farmhouses want a homey feel.” Jeff’s voice was flat.

  “And a piano does that?”

  “It does. Among other things.”

  “Huh.” He starting picking through the artwork. “Where’d the table go?”

  “Upstairs.”

  He glanced at Jeffrey, who was pulling a couple of vases out of a cardboard box. “You uh… you need any help?”

  “No, Mr. White. I think I can handle it.”

  He sighed. “Look. I’m sorry, okay? Oscar is my boss, and… I’m in a tough position.”

  Jeff looked up and gave him a wicked smile and a hot stare. “You look like you’re in a pretty good position to me.”

  Motherfucker. That look went right to his balls. He swallowed hard.

  Jeff laughed and started separating the flowers on the coffee table and filling the vases like he knew what he was doing. “You could make the bed upstairs.”

  “Bed?”

  “Oscar told me to go ahead and pick up a bed for the master bedroom. There are sheets and pillows and stuff in a bag up there.”


  “Oh. Uh. Yeah, I can do that.”

  “That’s not too weird for you, is it? I mean if it is, you could—”

  “No. I got it.” And an excuse to leave the room right now wasn’t a bad thing either.

  “Great, thanks.”

  He headed upstairs to Jonas’s room. It was weird seeing a real bed in here again, but it felt right somehow. He hadn’t realized how much worse it felt to have the room just sitting empty until it wasn’t. The long table from the living room was in here now too. It fit very comfortably under the window, and Jeff had moved a little silver tray off the dresser to sit on it.

  He picked the bag up off the floor and dumped it out on Oscar’s mother’s Queen Anne chair that sat on one corner of the room, then found the sheets and started making the bed. He was pretty sure it was a king mattress, and although it felt huge, it fit in the room just fine. No wonder Jonas had always seemed so small in that hospital bed; the room dwarfed the bed and the bed dwarfed him.

  He got the sheets on, put all four pillows in their pillowcases, and was getting the comforter out of its bag when Jeff appeared in the doorway.

  “Hey, looking good in here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I was worried the king might be a little big for the room, but the queen didn’t seem to be enough.”

  “Naw, I think it’s perfect. It’s the biggest room up here, the only room with its own bathroom. Probably ought to look like a master, right?” He grabbed the corners of the comforter and shook it out across the bed. “Oh, this is nice.”

  “I confess, I’ve used the same one before in another house. It’s got a classic look and kind of fits in anywhere.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.”

  Jeff turned to look at him, and it was his turn to stare. Tailored suit pants, pressed shirt, blue tie loosened at the throat. Jeff always had such a squeaky-clean look. Not everyone needed to put their back into a hard day’s work to make a living. Jeff’s soft hands and clean shave suited him just fine.

  Last night stung bad, but if he couldn’t have that, maybe he could let himself have this after all.

  “Yeah?”