Wings of Love

by Scotty Cade

  Brad still had a smile on his face as he got out of the truck.

  “What are you smiling at?” Mac asked.

  “How do you think we’ll use these power tools at the lake?” Brad asked.

  Mac looked perplexed. “Damn, you’re right, limited electricity,” he said.

  “I am right,” Brad replied. “But I had an epiphany en route. Take a look in the back of the truck.”

  Now Mac had the same smile on his face that Brad was sporting.

  “Smart man,” Mac said as he caressed the generator. “I see you’ve added a few other creature comforts of home as well,” he said, referring to the microwave and coffeemaker.

  “Yeah, you got a problem with it?” Brad asked.

  “Nope, I got no problem with it. I’m as spoiled as the next guy.” Mac chuckled.

  They loaded the rest of the tools in the truck and drove back to the airport. Mac pulled the truck right up to the dock, so they could load the plane. While Brad unloaded the truck, Mac carefully weighed each tool before loading it into the plane to make sure he didn’t go over his weight load. Within an hour, they were back in the air, and Brad was on his way to his new life.

  Chapter 12

  THEY landed at the lake as planned, unloaded and carried everything up to the lodge, and borrowed and reloaded Zander and Jake’s old pickup truck. They took a break and grabbed a quick bite. When they were finished eating, they again went over their supply list to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Soon the two men were bouncing around the cab of the little truck, making their way to the cabin.

  When they reached their destination, they unloaded the haul for the last time and took the truck back to the lodge. Jake offered to bring them back to the cabin, but it was only three thirty and the weather was still beautiful, so they opted to hike and enjoy the weather while they still could. Winter would be moving in soon enough, and days like this would be hard to come by.

  They reached the cabin just after five o’clock, giving them approximately five hours of daylight remaining. This was going to be their first night in the cabin, and since they had no idea what to expect, they really needed a game plan. Mac reached into the cooler and pulled out two beers, and they headed out to the porch, careful to avoid the rotten floorboards. With pen and pad in hand, they made a list of things to do before nightfall. When the list was complete, they set out on their chores with a vengeance. The first order of business was to make sure all the oil lamps were full and the wicks were in good working order. Then they stocked the huge wood compartment built into the stone fireplace with as much wood as it would hold. Winter was still officially four or so months away, but in the summer, it could drop to the upper thirties at night, and they wanted to be prepared. Next, Brad made the beds with the linens Mac had packed and made sure each bed had extra blankets, while Mac made sure the water reservoir was full and the hand water pump was primed. Mac noted that they would need to make sure the wood-burning stove was hot, to boil some water for baths later that night. They busied themselves around the cabin until the sun was about to set. They opened another beer, headed to the porch, and made a toast to their first day as they watched the sun fall behind Mt. Denali. Five minutes later, both men were again busy as bees. Brad lit the oil lamps as Mac tackled the chandelier. Brad commented that the cabin took on a nice glow as the shadow of the flames danced on the log cabin walls and ceiling, but they had no time to watch; there was more work to be done. The kitchen needed to be thoroughly cleaned, as did the bathroom, and they hadn’t even thought about dinner.

  While Brad cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, Mac set up the generator on the back porch and filled the fuel tank. He ran a multi-outlet extension cord through the window and plugged in the microwave and coffeemaker. With that done, thinking ahead, he scanned the cabin; next to the wood-burning stove was a large tub, which he assumed was for heating water. He intently studied the old stove until he thought he had figured out how the thing worked. He opened the door to the compartment on the left, and from the pile of ashes he saw, he assumed that section was the wood box. He loaded some kindling and a pile of logs into the compartment and lit the kindling and nursed the fire until it caught. He closed the firebox door, filled the tub with water, covered it, and placed it on top of the stove. Feeling pretty good about himself, he moved on to his next chore, which was to light a fire in the old stone fireplace. They hadn’t tried it yet and hoped it still had a good draw—or they might just freeze this winter—but when he opened the damper and felt a breeze, he knew the chimney wasn’t clogged. He lit the fire, and to his amazement, it all worked perfectly. He stoked the fire and turned to put the iron tool on its rack. That’s when he caught a glimpse of Brad coming out of the bathroom. He howled with laughter. He laughed so hard he barely caught his breath.

  “What’s so funny?” Brad asked, not knowing why Mac was hysterical.

  “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” Mac asked.

  “No, why?”

  “Just do it,” Mac instructed.

  Brad went back into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He began to roar with laughter himself as he saw his reflection in the mirror. He had a blue bandana tied around his head, and it was soaked through and through with sweat or soapy water, he didn’t know which. His face, neck, and sweatshirt were covered with dirt, his hands were in yellow rubber gloves, and he was holding a mop and bucket. He thought he looked just like his grandmother’s old cleaning lady.

  Mac joined him in the bathroom, and they both chuckled while Brad tried to wash the dirt off of his face.

  “Man, this place must have been really dirty,” Brad said. “Look at me. I’m a mess. I scrubbed that old tub so hard I was afraid I’d scrub the porcelain right off.”

  “You did a great job,” Mac replied. “It looks clean as a whistle.”

  “Thanks,” Brad said.

  Suddenly they heard a loud rumble, like someone was holding a sheet of tin and moving it back and forth to imitate thunder. They both looked in the direction of the noise. Their eyes grew wide with amazement as flames shot out of the top of the stove; the old aluminum tub and lid were bouncing around like they would both fly off of the stove at any minute. Brad saw Mac run toward the stove, but before he could say anything, Mac quickly grabbed the lid handle and lifted it off of the tub. He howled in pain and dropped the cover onto the floor.

  “Damn it,” he yelled. “How did it get so hot so fast?” He grabbed the wrist of his burned hand with his other hand and stared at it in shock. “I just put the water on ten minutes ago.”

  Flames were still shooting out of the top of the stove, so Brad quickly filled a bowl with water, used a wet towel, opened the firebox door, and threw the water in. The stove began to sizzle and the flames quickly turned to smoke. Brad pushed Mac toward the door, and when he was safely outside, Brad ran back in and began to open the back door and the windows. When every door and window was open, he quickly found his medical bag and a flashlight and headed for the porch.

  “How bad is it, Mac?” Brad asked.

  “I don’t think it’s too bad,” Mac replied. “I released the lid pretty quickly.”

  Brad handed the flashlight to Mac and said, “Let me take a look.” Mac took the flashlight and shined the light on his burned hand.

  Brad took Mac’s hand, careful not to touch the burned area, and examined it. It was a relatively small first-degree burn across the center of his hand and in the crease of his fingers, where he’d grabbed the lid handle.

  “Stay put,” Brad said as he went back into the cabin. He was back in less than a minute with a bowl of warm water he’d made by scooping a cup of boiling water from the tub and mixing it with the cool water from the well tap.

  He was just starting to clean the burned area with the warm water when Mac asked, “Shouldn’t we put butter or something on it?”

  “Nope,” Brad responded. “An old wives’ tale—butter’s not good for burns.” Brad then
cringed and said, “This might hurt a little,” as he tried to get Mac’s wedding ring off of his hand. Mac looked very concerned.

  “Why do we have to take my ring off?” Mac asked.

  “You might have some minor swelling or edema, and I don’t want the ring to cut into your finger,” Brad said.

  “You think it’s that bad?” Mac asked.

  “No, I don’t, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  Mac was sitting on the floor of the porch with his legs crossed, Indian style, and Brad was in the same position right in front of him. Mac leaned back against the wall of the cabin, laid his head back, and closed his eyes as Brad finished dressing the wound. Mac tried to relax his breathing and concentrate on keeping still and not jerking his hand away as Brad took care of the burn.

  When he was relaxed and clam, Mac realized that Brad was caressing his hand and gently cleaning the burns, and it felt kind of good. The way he was stroking the burn, it was almost sensual, and although he was sure Brad didn’t mean it in that way, it felt really erotic. Mac panicked when he realized his dick had jumped to attention. He certainly didn’t want to alert Brad to this sudden interest, so he tried to casually change positions so Brad couldn’t see the bulge in his pants.

  When Brad had finished dressing the burn, Mac quickly stood and walked around the porch with his back to Brad.

  “Thanks, Brad,” Mac said. “Let’s go check out the mess in there and see what we need to do about it.”

  “You stay out here for a minute, and I’ll go check on the stove,” Brad said.

  When Brad got inside, most of the smoke had cleared and he could see that the fire was out in the stove. He used the fire tools near the stove and cleaned out the firebox, loaded a small log and some kindling, and lit the fire again.

  Mac came in and said, “I’m really sorry, Brad. What did I do wrong?”

  “I think you just put too much wood in the firebox, that’s all.”

  “Oh, is that all,” Mac said as he laughed. “I could have burned this place to the ground.”

  “No harm done,” Brad said. “Listen, it’s getting pretty late, and this water is still really hot, so I’m going to dump it in the bathtub, and you can get cleaned up, while I boil a little more for me. But be careful and try not to get your bandages wet.”

  “Why don’t you go first, and I’ll get these windows and doors closed. It’s getting pretty chilly in here,” Mac said.

  “Nah, you go,” Brad said. “I’ll do all of that. Besides, I think I’ll soak a while when it’s my turn, and I’ll feel rushed if you haven’t had your bath, okay?”

  “Okay,” Mac mumbled.

  While Mac got a change of clothes and his toiletries, Brad carried the tub over to the bathroom and poured the hot water into the bathtub. He was turning on the tap when Mac walked in carrying a black leather bag and wearing only his boxers and a T-shirt.

  “You’re on your own,” Brad said. “Just make sure you test the water before you get in. That water was boiling when I took it off of the stove. I don’t want to have to grease your entire body down with burn ointment.”

  “Ha-ha,” Mac said sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “I heard you doctors were assholes, but I didn’t believe it until today.”

  Brad chuckled. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

  “Hey, Brad, do you have my wedding ring?”

  “No, I put it on the kitchen table,” Brad said.

  “No problem, I’ll get it.”

  When Mac came back with the ring in his hand, he could see the questioning look in Brad’s eyes.

  “This is the first time I’ve taken this ring off since Lindsey put it on sixteen years ago.”

  “Wow, Mac, I’m sorry. I should’ve realized that when I saw you were still wearing it.”

  “Not your problem, Brad. I’m a big boy, I could’ve said no. Maybe it’s time.”

  “You know, Mac, you didn’t take the ring off, I did. So technically you still haven’t taken it off.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Mac said. “But I think the time is right. I can’t preach to you about moving on with your life if I can’t do the same. So, a new start for each of us.”

  Brad smiled and said, “A new start.”

  “Brad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Get out of here so I can take a bath,” Mac said.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Brad stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He proceeded to close all the windows and doors. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. He picked up an oil lamp from the end table and walked out onto the porch. It was cool and crisp, but not too cold yet. He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. We need to get some porch furniture, he thought. He opened the wine bottle and poured himself a glass. His second thought was, Did Mac have a hard-on when I was bandaging his hand? I think he did. I think I know a hard-on when I see one. Besides, his cargo pants looked like a circus tent. He took another sip of wine.

  He heard the screen door open and close, and he looked up to see Mac dressed in long flannel pajama pants, a sweatshirt, and heavy wool socks, his wet hair slicked back. He looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch model, Brad thought.

  “How was the bath?”

  “Quick, but hot,” Mac responded.

  “How’s the hand?”

  “Okay,” Mac said. “I think I managed to keep the bandage dry.”

  “Good, tomorrow morning I’ll redress it and take another look.”

  “Thanks, Brad.”

  “No problem.” Brad downed the last of his wine and refilled his glass. He poured a glass for Mac and handed it to him as he stood. “My turn for a bath. See you in a bit.”

  Brad left Mac standing on the porch and made his way to the kitchen. He again removed the tub of hot water from the stove, carried it to the bathroom, and poured the water in the tub. He turned on the cold tap, returned the tub to the kitchen, and slipped back into the bathroom. He undressed, tested the water, and slipped into the hot water. He quickly sighed as he noticed how comfortable the tub was. It was long enough to stretch out, very deep, and tall enough on one end to comfortably lean back and rest his head and neck while most of his body was covered in the water.

  He totally relaxed and let the hot water consume him. Steam was rising off of the water, and through the steam he could see the flickering flame from the oil lamp casting an eerie glow. He watched the flame dance on the ceiling, and for the first time in ages, he felt totally relaxed. He thought about how a hot water heater and shower would make things easier at bath time and decided that he was going to talk to Mac about upgrading the solar electrical system to allow for the extra power they would need for a few modern-day necessities. He took another sip of his wine and put the glass on the floor next to the tub. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. His thoughts went to Mac. Mac seems to be having some very odd reactions to me. The almost-kiss. The hard-on. And sometimes I catch him staring at me from a distance. Could Mac be struggling with his sexuality? Just because he was married doesn’t mean he’s straight, but never in all the years we’ve been coming up to the lake did we ever get a vibe that he was gay. If he’s struggling, I need to help him.

  Chapter 13

  WHILE Brad was having his bath, Mac stood leaning on the porch railing, looking up at the dark blue velvet sky. He was always so amazed at how close the stars appeared to be when he was up in the mountains, like he could reach out and touch them. He and Lindsey had loved stargazing. They would lie on a blanket in their backyard and look at the stars for hours. “Lindsey, I miss you so much,” he said under his breath. Then his thoughts took over. Why am I having these feelings for Brad? I’m not gay. My God, I got a woody when he was dressing my burn. I’ve never been attracted to another guy, but these thoughts are pretty hard to deny. What do I do?

  He was startled out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mac, are you okay?�
�� Brad asked.

  “Oh yeah, why?”

  “I called your name twice, and you never heard me.”

  “I’m sorry, I was thinking about Lindsey. We loved the stars, and they are so vibrant tonight,” Mac said.

  “They are indeed—so close, yet so far,” Brad whispered.

  “Bath okay?” Mac asked.

  “Really good; I was so relaxed I dozed off for a few minutes.”

  “Speaking of sleep, I’m pretty tired as well. Why don’t I make us a quick bite, and we can turn in?” Mac said. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good, can I help?” Brad asked.

  “Sure. How about I make a couple of sandwiches and you toss a salad?” Mac said as he opened the cabin door.

  “You got it,” Brad replied.

  Mac walked into the cabin with Brad behind him. They prepared their dinner and ate mostly in a comfortable silence, both seemingly lost in thought. When they were through eating and everything was clean and put away, Mac folded the dishtowel and threw it over the edge of the sink.

  “I guess that does it,” Mac said. “I think I’ll turn in.”

  Their eyes met for a brief second and lingered. Brad said, “Okay. Good night, Mac.”

  “Sleep tight Brad,” Mac responded. He climbed the ladder to the loft, pulled back the covers, and slipped into bed. Brad threw a few more logs on the fire, and put out all the oil lamps.

  “Hey, Mac?” Brad shouted.

  “Yeah, Brad?”

  “I’ll keep the fire going tonight. No need for you to go up and down the ladder in the dark.”

  “Okay, thanks, I’ll take it tomorrow night,” Mac responded.

  Brad made his way to his bed by the light of the fire, and crawled in. The cabin was silent except for the crackling sound of the wood burning. The sound was soothing, and he fell asleep immediately.

  Unfortunately for Mac, sleep didn’t come. He went over and over the events of the day, the last couple of weeks, and the last five years since he and Brad had met. When they’d first met, Brad was with Jeff. Lindsey had just died, and Mac wasn’t interested in anything but trying to get through a day. And he was straight; what part of being straight had he forgotten? But how could he explain the feelings for Brad he was experiencing? He thought back to high school. He had experimented with a couple of guys while he was on the swim team, but hadn’t every guy at that age? It was enjoyable, sure, but he never thought it would ever go beyond just that, two guys getting their rocks off. He had never ever remembered consciously being attracted to another man. Could it be that I’ve denied that part of myself for all these years? Question after question popped into his mind.