by Riley Knight
“Be nice to the man, Will, he’s new in town, and he’s the best preacher we’ve had in years,” came the slightly worried voice from behind him.
“I’m not going to do anything rash, Sheila, please. You know me better than that by now.” This was the problem with small towns. Everyone thought everything was their business. Seattle hadn’t been like this. People had known how to keep their own personal business just that, personal. “I just want to talk to him.”
“It’s okay.” That deep, far too compelling voice sent little shivers of reluctant delight dancing along Will’s nerves. Attraction. It was nothing more than a liking for someone’s pheromones, or so Will had heard hypothesized, and it had always made sense to him. He found it comforting now. He was no slave to his hormones. “I’ll see you in church, Sheila.”
Then Will was having to brace himself once more, because the minister was turning to face him, looking at him with an open, wondering face. Did he find Will even half as intriguing as Will found him? Probably not. It was probably just a minister thing, to really, really look at someone like this man was looking at him.
“I’m Pastor Judah Daniels.” Judah offered his hand, and Will felt instantly ridiculous, not a feeling that he was used to, nor one that he found he particularly cared for. He was actually nervous to touch this man, even by shaking his hand, because he thought it might just be too good. Not to mention, he had forgotten even to introduce himself.
“Will Sanford. Stephen’s father.” Will tried to keep a hold on his overactive imagination as he reached out and took Judah’s hand in his own. Their fingers curled around each other’s hands, and to Will, it felt strangely like touching a live wire, like having a low-level electrical current running back and forth between them.
Hormones. Pheromones. Attraction. It was damned inconvenient, but that was all it was, and if he kept reminding himself of it, he’d be okay.
“Will.” Judah gave him a charming little smile, and even though Will was very ready to see it that way, it didn’t come off as insincere. This guy, this Judah, was younger than he would have expected, far younger, not to mention more handsome, but he was damn good at his job, Will could see that already. His charm was even threatening to work on Will. “Please come into my office.”
There was a strange reluctance to release Judah’s hand, but Will did it. With another of the deep, calming breaths which might just be the only thing that got him through this without him coming off as a complete idiot, he walked with the priest up the stairs into the main part of the church, not a place that Will was at all used to being.
It was a nice building, fairly old, but well cared for. Will couldn’t help but notice that it smelled nice, too, and that it was clean. He didn’t believe in the same things as this preacher, but he found himself reluctantly admiring how clearly devoted the man was.
In the office, Will sat down opposite Judah, who perched behind his desk. It was a nice room, with books everywhere, and Will, who was a huge bookworm, could respect that. Not that he thought that he and Judah would exactly have the same taste in reading material.
“I’m going to just be blunt here, Pastor.” Was that the right way to address a man of the cloth? Will had no real way to know, but it was how the guy had introduced himself, so it was going to have to be good enough. “I don’t think I want my son coming to this youth group anymore.”
Whatever he had expected, he didn’t get it. Anger, annoyance, maybe. Defensiveness. But Judah just linked his hands together, his elbows resting on the desk, and his sharp, defined chin resting in turn on his joined hands. Judah peered at him curiously, in a way that reminded Will sharply of a man peering through a microscope, something that he had certainly seen enough times in his life.
“And why’s that?”
There was no hostility in Judah’s voice, though Will knew that the same couldn’t be said of himself. He sighed softly. He was supposed to worship nothing but logic and usually found that pretty easy to do, but this man of God was certainly calmer than he was right now.
“I don’t want you putting ideas into my son’s head,” Will spoke truthfully because he had nothing to hide. He had made a decision a long time ago not to hide who he was, and Judah was going to have to deal with it.
“What sort of ideas?”
Will paused and then sighed softly. Fine. He would put it all out on the line. Why not? The worst that could happen was that Judah would get offended and kick him out, and then this awkward, tense, electric interview would be over. The worst part was, Will could swear that he still almost saw the sparks flowing between them, locked in their linked eyes.
“I’m gay.” There. It was out. He hadn’t been quite so blunt about it before, not because he was ashamed, but because they were in Texas now, not the much more progressive Washington state. He had never lied about it anywhere, but he had let people assume.
That wasn’t going to work in this situation. Besides, part of Will wanted to shock the minister, but Judah, to his surprise, just leaned forward a little bit more, his eyes fixed unerringly, unceasingly, on Will. He didn’t speak, he just looked, and Will, who had been braced for a much more explosive reaction, for some hellfire and brimstone preaching, found that the air was taken out of his sails a little bit.
“I don’t want you saying anything bad about my sexuality to my son. I don’t want you trying to think that all I need is to be converted and saved. I assure you, I am gay and not at all ashamed of it, so I think it would be best if I just …”
It was almost a relief when Judah finally spoke, when he raised his head from his hands, those clear eyes still firmly on Will, making him strangely breathless, making it hard to focus.
“And why,” Judah asked, with just the faintest hint of sharpness to his voice, “would you think that I would care at all about that?”
THREE
From time to time, there had been a man who was so stunning that Judah had had a hard time with it. It didn’t happen very often, but it did happen. Every time, Judah had reminded himself that he was in a situation where he couldn’t exactly just try anything, and as the years passed and he remained inexperienced because of it, it had been much easier just to assume that he would have no idea what to do and let those moments, those men, go by.
It was terrifying, in a way, to think of being caught now. But on the other hand, who would catch him? As far as he knew, no one had even remotely considered the possibility that he was interested in men. More than one person had told him that he was married to his job and that it was deeply admirable.
So he was probably safe, despite his strange, disturbing reaction to this hostile man, this Will, who wouldn’t stop looking at him with those toffee colored eyes. What would it be like to be around Will when he wasn’t angry? How would it feel to see him smile?
There was no way that he would ever find out, of course. Most people responded well to him, he’d found, but there were a few who actually seemed to dislike him because of his calling, and Will definitely seemed to be one of those kinds.
Honestly, the safest thing for him to have done was very clear to him, in hindsight. Will had assumed things about him, and it would have been quite simple just to allow him to continue to assume those things. Let Will think that Judah had something against gay people. What did it matter?
Except that it did.
Maybe it was Stephen, and Judah’s desire to build a choir with Stephen at the center of it, which he still was hoping wasn’t completely off the table. Maybe it was the defensive, but superior way that Will had said the words, I’m gay, which Judah couldn’t help but find fascinating.
More likely, it was just the desire not to be misunderstood.
Whatever it was, Judah was in it now. He had spoken up, and now got the satisfaction of seeing Will’s bemused expression, his utter confusion, which wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Will struck him as a man who was very sure of himself, and if Judah had shaken that a little, he wasn’t disappointed.
“I’ve heard a lot of things about homophobia in churches,” Will finally managed, and his voice started to get stronger once more as he started to speak. “I don’t want my son around that. I’ve kept him from it as much as possible. He doesn’t need to think that his father is sinning.”
There was a half-mocking tone to the way that Will said the last word that Judah found interesting. Actually, he found everything about this man interesting, no matter how much he shouldn’t. There was a detachment that Judah had always managed when dealing with people, but it was proving difficult to maintain around Will.
“I wouldn’t tolerate that sort of thing in my church.”
Will gave him a look that Judah didn’t quite know how to interpret, but he didn’t let that hold him back. Will could believe him, or not, and there wasn’t anything that Judah could really do other than state the truth to change his mind. But he was certainly going to try.
“This is Texas—” Will started, but Judah waved him off with an impatient movement of his hand. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard that sort of statement before.
“I know what state we’re in.” And he had noted before that Will didn’t have the local accent. He sounded like he probably came from way up North, and seemed to have a generally low opinion of Texas in general. Or was that just because Will was not in a great mood right then? “And I don’t care. This church will be a safe place. Your son won’t hear anything homophobic from me, and if I hear about it happening, you can be assured that I will respond appropriately.”
For just a moment, Judah could almost swear that he saw something in Will’s eyes. Something, a faint flicker of uncertainty, as though Will considered his words almost without meaning to. It was only there a second, but Judah could swear that he was right. He was, after all, watching Will pretty closely, whether he should be or not.
“Well,” Will’s eyes cleared and his lips, which had almost relaxed, tensed up again, “that’s a very nice sentiment, but I’m still not sure about it. Why do you want him around so badly, anyway?”
Which was, Judah supposed, a fair question, but he had the sense that the answer was going to open a whole other can of worms. Still, he had Will talking to him, and he had done that partially by being honest with him. He really didn’t see any reason to stop now.
“I want to start a choir. A children’s choir. And the rest of them look up to Stephen.” Judah let his hands rest on the edge of his desk, and he most deliberately did not clench them around the wood. Will would notice if he did. Judah wasn’t sure that he had ever been looked at in as intense a way as Will was looking at him.
For a long moment, silence reigned in the room, and Judah had to force himself to stay calm and relaxed. He looked at Will, tried not to admire the symmetry of his face, and let him think it out.
“I think he’s going to pass,” Will finally said, and Judah tried, but didn’t quite succeed, not to let his shoulders slump. “Sorry. It’s just not the sort of thing that my family is interested in.”
It would be so easy to let himself get angry, to tell Will that it just wasn’t true. Maybe Will wasn’t interested in it, that much was clear enough, but Stephen? Stephen had been. But Will seemed very protective of his son, and somehow, with something that could only be called instinct, Judah knew that he wouldn’t get what he wanted by getting upset at Will.
“I have a proposal for you, Will,” Judah admitted, getting a secret, hidden little thrill out of saying the other man’s name like that. “Hear me out. I understand that you’re worried about your son, and I can tell that you care about him. And there’s still a chance that this choir won’t happen at all.”
Judah sensed that it would though. He had gotten some seriously interested vibes from the kids, at least once Stephen had stepped forward. If Stephen was in, others would follow in his footsteps.
“Okay …” Will trailed off, dark eyebrows arched in eloquent question, and Judah continued.
“But if it does go forward, I would like to invite you to come to watch a choir practice. In fact, you, or any other parent who wants to, is always invited to watch. Your son is very gifted musically, Will. I heard him singing with his friend, and he has a natural talent for it.” He paused and then twisted the knife just a little bit deeper because he could see Will hesitating. “And he loves doing it.”
Will worked the idea over in his head, and from the expression on his face, Judah could tell that the other man wasn’t highly excited by the idea. But he was considering it, and that was something. Will struck him as a fairly stubborn person and completely devoted to his son, which Judah couldn’t help but respect. It was probably a pretty big deal that Will was even thinking about it.
“I don’t know,” Will spoke slowly. “I believe that you mean well, but I just don’t know if a church is the best environment for a child with a gay father.”
A gay father. One. Singular. Judah couldn’t help but notice that, although, of course, it wasn’t relevant to him. What did it matter if it seemed to him that Will was a single father? It wasn’t like Judah could do anything about it.
“I promise to you that nothing of that sort will happen in my church.” Judah paused and then sighed softly. His words meant nothing, which was strange because he was used to people generally sort of believing him. But not Will. Will was a skeptic, and Will was looking out for his son, so he wasn’t going to believe anything easily.
There was, of course, one thing that Judah knew he could say, one thing that would break through to Will, he hoped. One thing that he had never told anyone before, that he had never expected to say out loud, though he was very aware of it in his own head.
But Will was going to say no, that much was clear, if Judah didn’t take this drastic step. So he took a deep breath, and before Will could say anything, he spoke again.
“You’re not the only one who’s gay, Will. You won’t have to worry about what your son will hear about gay people, because even if you can’t trust in my desire to do the right thing, to create the sort of environment where anyone can feel safe, you should be able to trust in my self-interest.”
Will was listening. This was the closest that Judah had ever come to saying the words he was about to say, and he was terrified. Even knowing, as he did, that he was speaking to someone who wasn’t likely to judge him for the words, he still could barely hear his own voice over the pounding of his own heart, seemingly right against his eardrums.
“I’m gay.” The words were out. For the first time in his life, they were said to another human being, words that he had tried to deny, even to himself, but had gradually come to accept. “I’m not in any position to judge you, or to allow you, or anyone else, to be judged in my church. You, and your son, and everyone else will be safe within these walls.”
Never had Judah meant anything that he had said this much, never in his whole life, but would it be enough? Would Will be able to allow himself to believe them? For what felt like an hour, Will was utterly silent, just staring at Judah’s face as though he could read the secret to life itself there.
Or was that what he was doing? It was hard for Judah to tell, hard for him to read that handsome face, when he got so distracted by the full curve of his lower lip, by the flecks of gold and green in his hazel eyes. By the way that he sometimes found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, Will liked to look at him just as much as he liked to look at Will.
Which was ridiculous and probably not true, and even if it was, it didn’t matter. But it was distracting nevertheless.
“You …” Will shook his head, cutting himself off, and then started over again. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come to exactly one choir practice, and then, I guess we’ll see.”
Quite abruptly, Will rose from his chair, and Judah barely even had time to enjoy the sense of triumphant relief he felt. He had won a chance. Just a chance, but it was more than he would have had if he hadn’t told Will his big secret.
Judah stood, too, and watched as Will left, with a l
ong, lingering look over his shoulder that Judah couldn’t help but notice. He had surprised this man, he thought, and that was something.
Even once Will was gone, Judah stayed on his feet, forced his knees to stay still, his back to be straight and strong. He wanted to collapse into his chair, and he wanted to let himself look at what had happened. Wanted to bring Will back, if only in his mind, and see what was behind those intense, smoldering looks of his. Was it just dislike? Just worry for Stephen? A mistrust of religious people, or new people, or both?
It didn’t matter. Will wasn’t likely to be around a lot, Judah figured, so it should be easy enough just to push all of this away. Easy just to focus on his work, on building this church into something that would be the pride of the town.
So then why did Will’s face, his smooth caramel voice, linger in Judah’s mind?
FOUR
Less than a week later, Stephen came up to the car beaming, and Will knew that Judah’s assurances had been for nothing. Judah had said that maybe the choir wouldn’t happen at all, that there wouldn’t be enough interest. With one look at his son’s shining face, Will knew two things before the boy even opened his mouth.
The first was that there would be a choir if Will let it happen, and the second was that Judah had been right about at least one thing. Stephen did want to be in this choir. His son was pretty much radiating joy.
Which was doubtless why he was still worrying about it later that night, after Stephen’s homework was done, dinner was eaten, and the dishes washed. Stephen had gone to bed an hour ago, and Will was in his home office, very busily engaged in not marking the stack of tests that he had propped up in front of him.
