by Amy Lane
“No, not Sammy, although he really is a wonderful little person when he’s not in pain. But Channing—I knew him and Sheryl as children, you know. Their parents would get assigned to a post for a few years and then move back, and every time they came back, their mother made sure they continued their lessons. It was almost frightening how organized those people were. Sheryl too, you know.”
“But not Channing?”
Anson shook his head. “No, Channing was special—and organized because he had to be. But he was… was different. He did things because they made sense to him, not because someone told him it was how it was done. I remember explaining the scale to him, and how F-flat was really E-sharp—I thought I was going to have a riot on my hands. He had to hear the entire explanation of how the scales worked before he’d settle down and just take my word for it that you couldn’t change it. Why not just have different letters, because sure, that would take it to J and K, but who cared if you were playing an M or a C-sharp as long as people knew they were different, right?”
Tino couldn’t keep himself from laughing. “He seems to have settled down somewhat.”
Anson made a pftt sound and waved his hand. “No, my boy. You’ve just been beguiled—he’s been here for what? Six weeks? He’s just started to bend reality to his will. It doesn’t stand a chance against Channing. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a little help.”
Tino shrugged. “You know, I’m just the manny—”
“Sure you are,” Anson agreed—but Tino was surprised his sarcasm didn’t drip through the fine wood on the floor.
Channing came rushing in at that moment, checkbook in hand, and Tino excused himself to go help ready the table for dinner. Mirella had finished setting up, and Sammy was seated in his spot, looking sad and disconsolate.
“What’s the problem, little man?” Tino asked. He sat down adjacent to Sammy, because although the kid had been understandably reluctant to move in and cuddle, Tino couldn’t help thinking that if any kid needed a hug, it was this one.
“Mirella yelled at me,” Sammy muttered. “She said something nasty in French, and I don’t know what it was.”
Tino felt a growl start in his throat. Finally—finally—Sammy had a chance to have his uncle Channing and a good night, and that vicious woman had to ruin that?
“Sammy?” he said. “How would you like to learn some French?”
By the time Channing arrived, Tino had managed a few choice phrases: Don’t be mean, My uncle pays you, and Tino will get you in trouble now all rolled off of Sammy’s tongue more or less like Sammy had taken the same courses Tino had, and Tino figured he could fill in the blanks as they went along. Sammy was probably destined for prep school, where he’d learn Castilian Spanish and formal French and be able to bargain with the Captains of the Universe like his uncle. Tino couldn’t help him there—he’d gone for the practical versions of both languages so he could discuss business or travel. The best he could do was make sure Sammy had some defenses against the Mirellas of this world—and that Tino could help keep him a little safer.
Channing sat down, though, and all thoughts of the petty housekeeper drifted away. He was still tired, yes, and all of his effort and attention was focused on Sammy, but that was the best part.
Tino had watched his parents over the years, and his real epiphany had come when he’d realized that the children had been like a shared business venture for them. They both participated in the upbringing, and they had a vested interest in making sure their business was thriving and healthy. Tino’s father had been right—Tino was the product of a loving home and two parents who worked equally to make sure everybody pulled their weight.
He recognized that Channing was living up to his end of the bargain right now. He talked to Sammy about his schedule and asked honestly if he got too tired. He asked what Tino could do to help make going to his activities easier for both of them. He even asked (and this blew Tino’s mind) what consequences Sammy thought were fair when he acted out like he had that night.
“Giving Tino my piano lesson was really smart,” Sammy said, eyes wide. “He played horrible, and I got so jealous! I wanted to play because I could play better!”
“Well, okay, then,” Channing told him, winking at Tino as he spoke. “The next time you give Tino a rough go over your piano lessons, Tino gets the whole lesson, okay? Tino is worn out and he’s trying his best. We’ve got to make things easier on him, you understand?”
Sammy looked at Tino, apology written all over his small face. “I’m sorry, Tino,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“Aw, mon bébé—”
Sammy’s eyes were wet now, and his lashes were spiked around them. “Is that good French? Or is that like what Mirella called Uncle Channing?”
“That’s the best French,” Tino said. Hesitantly, he reached out and smoothed Sammy’s bangs from his forehead. “That’s the French that means you’re someone I want to be happy, and that I’ll take good care of you, okay?”
Sammy nodded and smiled and then yawned. And then Channing yawned, and Tino thought it was time somebody took charge.
“Okay, gentlemen, I have a plan. We’re going to finish our food and take our plates to the kitchen. Then you two are going to go upstairs, take a shower, and meet down in the family room for Sammy’s favorite cartoon. Sammy, if you hurry, we can watch Gravity Falls as well as last night’s Adventure Time before you go to bed, okay?”
Sammy smiled shyly at Tino, because he knew what came next. It had been Tino’s routine, established since his first night there, and Channing had approved fully.
“And do we get cookies and milk?” he asked, excited.
“Yup!” Tino succumbed to the kid’s latent cuteness and ruffled his hair. “I bought special cookies today while you were at….” God, he couldn’t remember the schedule right now. Apparently he completely wiped it out of his mind once Friday arrived, and he wasn’t going to apologize for that. “Lessons,” he finished lamely. “Whatever lessons they were, I went to the store and got sugar cookies—the soft ones. They’re pretty rich, so only one apiece, okay, guys?”
“Yay!” Sammy cheered. He had two bites of salad and chicken on his plate, and he was still chewing them when he took his plate into the kitchen.
“I only get one—” Yawn. “—cookie?” Channing complained.
Tino rolled his eyes. “You don’t get that if you fall asleep at your plate. Now go take a shower before you doze off in your food.”
Channing’s tired smile was enough to make Tino glow.
Summer Daze
SAMMY fell asleep between them on the couch in the sitting room, midcartoon. Channing picked him up and carried him upstairs to his room while Tino hovered in the doorway to bid the little boy good night.
And then the worst happened. Sammy murmured, “Night, Mommy.”
Tino’s heart stopped—oh God, don’t let him realize—but before Channing could make his escape and let the fantasy continue, Sammy opened his eyes and rolled over to his side, body congested with angry tears.
Channing kissed his temple and said, “Sorry, little man. I miss her too.” Then he settled down on the side of the bed, hand on Sammy’s arm, while the poor kid cried.
Tino didn’t belong there—he knew it—but he couldn’t just… just leave the two of them like that either. He could feel his heart in his stomach and rushing in his ears as he stood at the threshold of the darkened room, watching the pathetic little tableau. It felt like something brave when he ventured in just far enough to squeeze Channing’s shoulder. He’d been planning to back away immediately, but Channing reached up and squeezed his hand, then turned around and nodded, pointing Tino to the door and letting him go for the night.
His eyes were shiny in the light from the hallway, though, and Tino’s heart thudded in his ears again. He took a step closer, close enough for Channing’s head to touch his midriff. Very carefully, so he didn’t rustle too much and distur
b Sammy’s grief, he stroked Channing’s hair back from his face and then bent down and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.
Channing startled, and Tino backed up, away from touching distance, and gave a shrug in the dark before turning and fleeing to his own room. He closed his door but didn’t feel the need to lock it, because Channing wasn’t that guy. The man who’d just settled in to keep his grieving nephew company until he slept wasn’t going to burst into Tino’s room while he was sleeping and try to take advantage.
Provided that Tino slept after that, because it didn’t feel like he’d ever close his eyes. He just lay there in the dark of his bedroom, watching the line of light under his doorway and waiting for Channing’s shadow to interrupt it.
After about half an hour, the hall light turned off, and there was a soft tap at Tino’s door—but the knob didn’t turn.
“Night, Tino—thanks for everything.”
“Night, Channing. Get some sleep. You’re….” His breath caught because this hurt him and he didn’t know why. “You’re so tired. You need to rest.”
“Yeah. You too. Night.”
And then he was gone—but the knock must have done the trick, because finally Tino could sleep too.
ARTIE didn’t have a car and couldn’t drive, which was something Tino hadn’t thought of when he’d invited him over. The solution was simple—and embarrassing. Tino’s sister Nica would bring Artie and his brother and sister, along with Elaina and—oh, they just had to pack up Dad’s minivan, didn’t they—Nica’s friend Taylor.
Tino explained all of this in mortification the next morning, after Nica had blithely texted him with the news that they would all be there in an hour.
Channing heard the list of names with an increasing smirk on his face, finally collapsing into laughter over the breakfast table, in his pajamas, over eggs and toast.
“Oh dear God,” he chortled. “Well, you threatened me with this last week, and all I got was Jacob—hey, why don’t you invite Jacob? I mean, you know, it’s a party, right?”
Tino flailed. “You know I told you all of this so I could just tell Nica no, right? I hate to disappoint Sammy, but—”
“Then don’t,” Channing said kindly. “I’m the rich guy with the pool. Seriously, after the week I had being the business guy with the company, rich guy with the pool is like… a vacation.”
“But… it’s taking advantage of you,” Tino muttered. “It’s… I mean, crap. I need to go buy chips and dogs and—”
“I’ll go buy chips and dogs—we’ve got a grill, I’ll clean it out. You go tell Sammy he’s going to have company—new company—and that he doesn’t have to play with them if he doesn’t want to, but he’s welcome to come out whenever he wishes.”
They regarded each other soberly. Sammy had refused to come down for breakfast, and Tino had made him a tray with some fruit and toast. There had been no tantrums, no screaming “I won’t eat it!”, but Tino was pretty sure the food hadn’t been touched in the past hour.
In fact Tino was pretty sure Sammy would be lying on his bed, a collection of Legos in front of him, talking quietly to himself as he assembled and reassembled the Tatooine space station.
Well, every kid had his therapy, right?
And… Tino should have taken money on that bet, because Sammy hadn’t moved. With a sigh, Tino came into the room and sat down on the bed, taking the liberty of rubbing the little boy’s narrow back between his shoulder blades.
“So,” he said, feeling foolish, “uh, my entire family except my parents is coming this afternoon to swim in your pool. It… it just sort of happened because my friend has no car and my sister’s a tool, but, well, there it is. There will be two kids your age, and my sister Elaina, who’s thirteen, and….”
His pocket buzzed and he checked it midsentence. Great. He hadn’t needed to invite Jake—apparently Channing had invited him anyway.
“And my three guys who just like the pool, I guess, and—”
Sammy rolled over. “And Dinner Box Girl?” he said hopefully.
“Yeah—Nica, she’s coming. No lasagna, though. She’s going to swim in the pool and catch a ration of… uhm, crap from me for hauling all the entire world to take advantage of your uncle in your backyard.”
A smile flickered over Sammy’s little face, and Tino held his breath, hoping it would catch. “Do I have to go?” he asked cautiously, and ah! Tino recognized this as the trap it was.
“No,” he replied, thinking that Channing was very wise. “Your uncle and I would love for you to come out and have a good time, of course, but this is, well, actually it’s my day off, but more than that. It’s voluntary. It’s… people are coming out to play, and if you’re not feeling it, you don’t have to, okay?”
And oh! The smile stayed, just a little bit, in the corners of Sammy’s Kewpie-doll mouth. “Yeah. Okay. I might come out.”
“Fair enough,” Tino said. “We’ll look forward to it if you do. Here.” He stood up and, taking a risk, pulled out both Sammy’s old and new swimming trunks, putting them on top of the dresser. “Here’s some swimsuits if you decide to join us. Now, I’m going to go change, and then bring some towels out to the pool and see if I can help your uncle with the grill. It just sort of turned into a big thing, and I don’t want him to work any more than he has to.”
“Tino?”
“Yeah?”
“You… you haven’t told your sister how… uh….” He trailed off and blushed. “Forget it.”
Oh. No, Tino got it. “I told her you’re sad, Sammy. And you don’t know how to be, now that your mother isn’t here. Nothing bad about you, I promise.”
And that was a real smile. “Okay—thanks, Tino!”
“De nada—that one’s Spanish. Did I tell you what that means?”
“No, what’s it mean?” Sammy swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up eagerly.
“It means ‘it’s nothing’—like ‘no problem.’ So if someone says ‘gracias’ to you, that means ‘thank you,’ and you say, ‘de nada,’ as in ‘I didn’t put myself out, I was happy to do it.’”
Sammy nodded. “Those are good words—those are polite words. My mom said you had to know those words first.”
Tino nodded back, hoping their luck would hold, his heart triple-timing. “She was a smart lady, your mom,” he acknowledged. “I’m going out now, but you don’t have to wait for everyone else if you don’t want to. You can come out any time, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tino.”
“De nada.”
Tino shut the door gently and then leaned against it for a moment. My mom said you had to know those words first. My mom said—past tense. Not present. And no tears. Oh wow. Oh, wonderful. Tino hoped Channing could get home immediately, because he wanted to share this with him. Tino wanted to see Channing smile about Sammy almost more than anything.
And he didn’t ask himself what he wanted to see more than that. And he didn’t ask himself why.
He just, for once in a lifetime of worrying about what to do next and how he should behave, ran off to face with a whole heart what promised to be a good day.
JUST because it was a good day didn’t mean he couldn’t give Nica a sincere ration of crap for hauling five hundred people out to his boss’s house.
“Seriously, woman? What made you think this was a good idea?”
“You said he wasn’t here all week!” she protested. “Besides, if Artie and the kids aren’t a problem, what’s three more people?”
“Four!” Jacob walked up to the front door, where Tino was having the “be good, you heathens” meeting with Nica while everyone else waited a respectful distance at the end of the walk. “Hows-is, Nica? You’re looking sweet and pretty today.”
Nica beamed at Jacob—she’d always had a soft spot for Tino’s best friend. “Jakey! What’re you doing here?”
“Boss man asked me,” Jacob said modestly. “He thinks I’m good for Tino.”
“He does not,�
�� Tino protested. “He felt sorry for you. We all feel sorry for you.”
Jacob just smiled sunnily, and Tino rolled his eyes. You couldn’t be mad at Jacob—it was like some sort of rule.
Tino gave in just that quickly. “Okay, all, huddle up.” Taylor, Artie, and two round-faced, redheaded children with pale skin, green eyes, and more freckles than God if he was a Scotsman, gathered around him. Elaina, five feet two inches of elfin grace and fey humor, wiggled under Tino’s arm for a hug, because she’d missed him this past week.
“Look, people,” he said seriously, “Channing was really nice about this—he went shopping for food and sodas and everything. But the fact is, the only people actually invited were you”—he gestured to Arthur—“and you and you.” He touched each freckled nose in turn, eliciting giggles. “So here’s some ground rules. There’s a pool house if you need to change, and it’s got a small bathroom in it—use that if you need to. Don’t go into the house—especially dripping wet. If the kids need some time out of the sun, have them change and we’ll set them up in the sitting room with a grown-up and some TV. Sammy is here, but the rule is, he doesn’t have to play, even if he does have to be nice. Are we all good with the rules?”
Oh God. He was responsible for Channing’s house. It was terrifying.
“All good rules, bro,” Jacob said, nodding.
“Geez, Tino, way to be uptight.” Nica rolled her eyes. “C’mon, guys—let’s go swim.”
“And don’t forget to thank Mr. Lowell for being such a nice guy!” Tino insisted, even as Nica grabbed Taylor’s hand and hauled him around the garage to the back.
Tino hadn’t even looked at Taylor as they’d huddled, because the kid had gotten tall, for one, and because he kept regarding Tino with this sort of… arrogance for another. Like all Tino needed was a good kiss or something and all his problems would be totally over.
Well, Tino wouldn’t have minded the kiss, but from Taylor? God no. He was a great-looking kid, but the arrogance put Tino off, for one.
