by Lanyon, Josh
Depression unlike anything he’d known in his adult life swamped him. He thought he would sink beneath it.
Instead, he rose and began to dress.
Someone tapped on his door. He ignored it. The door inched open. Jeff poked his head in. His eyes narrowed when he saw Austin was awake and nearly dressed.
“I didn’t think you’d be awake so early.”
“Yeah. Well.” Austin’s voice was husky. It was an effort to get the two words out.
“How’re you feeling?”
Austin looked at Jeff. On the nightstand he found his watch and snapped it onto his wrist.
Jeff slipped inside the room, then closed the door behind him. For a few moments he watched Austin. Austin ignored him.
“Okay. I’m sorry.” Jeff’s voice was edged. “It was a bad idea. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy any of it, though. I was here, remember?”
“I remember.”
Austin turned away, and Jeff crossed the room and grabbed his shoulders, turning him. “All right. Go on. Say it. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. I’m a shit.”
“Then I don’t need to say it, do I?”
Jeff let him go. He looked like Austin had slapped him. “That’s it?”
Austin said drily, “Did you want to talk about it?”
Jeff seemed at a loss for words. He said at last, “What I want is to apologize. I’m sorry, Austin. Very sorry.”
“You said that. I believe you.”
“I don’t understand. What is it that you want?”
“Not a thing.”
“You enjoyed it,” Jeff insisted. “Why the hell wouldn’t you enjoy it? Can’t you concede that much?”
Wearily, Austin said, “I can concede that some of it felt good. I can concede that you’re right. Sex is sex. We’re talking about two different things, Jeff. You’re talking about sex, and I was talking about…a connection. An emotional connection.”
Reading Jeff’s instantly closed expression, Austin added, “And that’s what last night was really about: ending the possibility of anything between us.”
“That wasn’t—” Jeff’s voice gave out. Or maybe not, because he finished steadily enough. “No. You’re wrong about that. I don’t want that. But it’s not realistic—what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want. Hell, you don’t know what you want.”
Jeff seemed to struggle inwardly. He said at last, “I know that I don’t want to hurt you. And I swear to God that was not my intention last night. I wanted to make a point, I admit that. You pissed me off with that holier-than-thou attitude.”
Austin opened his mouth. Jeff cut in. “But it was an idiot point, and I’m an idiot for trying to make it. Can we… I don’t know. Can we…” Jeff drew a deep breath. “Can we maybe start over?”
It was the last thing he’d expected to hear. Austin pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. After a few seconds, he lowered his hands. “Has anything changed? I mean, other than the fact that you’re sorry about last night?”
The confusion on Jeff’s face was almost painful to see. “I…care about you. I can’t… I don’t know that I can do what you want. You’re asking… I don’t think you realize what you’re asking. But I can try to… We could try it one step at a time.”
“How?”
Jeff continued to stare at him with that hungry, frustrated look.
“Maybe if we didn’t live seven hundred miles apart,” Austin said. “But it’s going to be hard for me to keep coming up with excuses for flying down here just to see my good fishing buddy. Even if I fished.”
Austin waited, but Jeff seemed to have no answer, so eventually he moved past him and went out, leaving the door to the bedroom standing open.
* * * * *
Back at his hotel, Austin plugged his phone into the charger, showered, and changed into clean jeans and a fresh T-shirt.
He sat down to check his e-mail, knowing he should probably use the time to try to grab some breakfast. He really wasn’t hungry, and the sooner he got back to Ballineen and finished the appraisal, the sooner he could get home and start putting the memory of Jeff behind him.
That was the only option he could see. As much as it was going to hurt, it would hurt about a thousand times worse if he let this thing go any further. Regardless of what Jeff told himself, he was not ready to compromise, and there was no way the tentative relationship budding between them could survive without Jeff making the first concession.
Besides, if he was honest, Austin was still angry about the night before. He accepted that Jeff was sorry, but he resented the fact that he’d been manipulated, used. It would be one thing if he could convince himself that last night had been about Jeff merely, misguidedly, trying to share a sexual adventure. But they both knew that wasn’t true. Last night, first and foremost, Jeff had been trying to prove something to Jeff.
What?
That sex with Austin had been meaningless? That it had meant no more and no less than sex with Carson?
That all sex was essentially the same?
That if Austin could experience sex the way Jeff did, Austin would give up his foolish and disturbing notion that something special had happened between them?
All of the above?
None of the above?
It took a while for the knocking on his door to register. Austin went to answer the peremptory summons, and Jeff pushed into the room. His eyes looked almost black in his white face.
“Okay, that didn’t go so well. Let me try this again.”
Austin had not anticipated this; he wasn’t happy about it either. “Jeff—”
Jeff shook his head, negating whatever Austin was trying to say. “Why don’t we do it like this: what do you want from me?”
“Nothing. I’ve already told you. Nothing.”
Jeff said shortly, “Now you’re not being honest.”
Austin started to speak, but Jeff was right. Besides, what did he have to lose at this point? He said slowly, “I have feelings for you. I’d like a chance to explore them. See if there’s a chance that there could be more.”
“Me too.”
“You know what I think,” Austin said as the memory of the night before came rushing back. “I think you resent the fact that I’ve made you consider—seriously consider—that you’re closing yourself off from what you really want and what you really need.”
Jeff interrupted forcefully. “I said me too!”
Austin stared as Jeff’s words registered. Jeff agreed? Now that he had truly not seen coming. “What? You think we could have some kind of long-distance relationship?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think you could just pick up and move to Washington DC?”
“Yeah, right!” Jeff glared. “My family has lived in these parts for over two hundred and fifty years.”
But wasn’t that the point? That Jeff could never live openly as a gay man in the town where generations of Bradys had been born and died? What compromise would be possible? Yet to his astonishment, Austin heard himself say, “What if I moved here?”
Jeff said, “Would you do that?”
“I…don’t know. I may be leaving my job. It’s a possibility.”
Jeff just stared. Longing and apprehension seemed to war in his eyes.
Austin’s hope died. “It wouldn’t work, would it? It would be the same problem we have now. You don’t want to accept or even acknowledge that you’re gay.”
The G word. For an instant he thought Jeff was going to tell him to shut up again, but though a muscle jerked in Jeff’s jaw, he said nothing.
The phone rang. Not his cell phone, the hotel phone. Austin automatically picked it up. Jeff went to the window and stared out at the rain-wet park, the line of his wide shoulders uncompromising and tense.
“Where have you been?” Debra cried. “We’ve been trying to reach you since last night! Why haven’t you picked up your messages?”
“There was a st
orm. I—”
“Austin…” He realized then that she was crying. “Harrison’s gone.”
“Gone?” he repeated stupidly.
“It happened last night. We tried to call you. We called and called.”
“But he can’t be. He was fine.” Dimly, he was aware that Jeff had turned, was coming over to him. “That can’t be right.”
“It was a massive heart attack.”
“No.”
“They tried to resuscitate him at the hospital, but…” Debra’s voice died out, and he thought she was crying again.
Austin protested, “But that can’t be right. He just had his birthday. He was fine.”
Debra was still talking. He tried to make himself concentrate on the words. He kept thinking that he must be dreaming. “You have to come back. Now,” she said at last.
“Yes. I’m on my way.”
Numbly, he replaced the handset. He stared blankly at Jeff’s face. What had they been talking about? Jeff looked so serious and concerned. He took Austin into his arms as though it was the most natural thing in the world, and for some reason that was the last straw.
Jeff held him while he cried. He stroked Austin and squeezed the back of his neck and didn’t try to hush him or tell him it would be all right. He didn’t say much of anything at all except an occasional murmured “Austin.”
Afterward, when Austin had control of himself again, Jeff was helpful and businesslike, getting Austin booked on a small plane out of Madison Municipal and then rearranging his flight to and from Atlanta. He helped Austin pack and promised to let the Cashels know what was going on.
He drove Austin to the airport and saw him safely to the airfield.
“Fly safe,” he told Austin and hugged him—albeit briefly—right there in the bright Georgia sunlight.
Austin nodded. He felt nothing. He felt instinctively that it was the last time they would meet, but even that pain felt removed, remote. One more weight on a heart that already felt like lead. “Bye, Jeff. Take care of yourself.”
He turned away, but Jeff said urgently, “When you come back, we’ll work it out. I promise you.”
Work it out? He remembered their conversation in the hotel room. It seemed a thousand years ago. Nothing to do with real life. In any case, he wasn’t coming back. Not ever. Someone else could do the appraisal, or the fucking cellar could rot. He just didn’t care anymore. Austin smiled politely and went up the portable stairs.
As the plane lifted, he could see Jeff’s figure grow smaller and smaller, a white dot on the green of the landing field that eventually blended in with the other dots and vanished.
Chapter Eleven
The lilacs were in bloom.
Austin could smell their cool fragrance as he came down the brick steps of the house in Frederick. He’d spent the afternoon with Ernest—or maybe Ernest had spent the afternoon with him. Sometimes Austin wasn’t sure who was supposed to be comforting whom during these long, terrible three weeks since Harrison’s death. Either way, leaving Martyn, North, & Compeau had given Austin time to spend with his little brother—time they both needed.
It had also given him a chance to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up. Not a journalist. He had toyed with the idea briefly, but Bella was the one who’d reminded him that he already had a career that he loved and was very good at and that trying to live your life for someone else was an exercise in futility. Especially when that someone else was no longer around.
Parked in the square brick courtyard was a silver Honda Accord with mud-splashed tires and fender. There was something familiar about the vehicle, although it wasn’t until Austin registered the lean, sun-browned man leaning against it that he realized what.
His heart, in hibernation these past weeks, stirred, and Austin walked quickly down the remaining steps, suddenly aware of the scent of flowers and the feel of sunlight on his face.
“Hey. Hi.”
“Hello.” Jeff, in jeans and a dark green shirt, straightened as Austin came to meet him.
“This is a surprise. Were you just going to wait out in the driveway all afternoon?” Austin asked, puzzled.
“I didn’t want to intrude,” Jeff said, “but I needed to see you.”
“How did you find me?”
“I’m a PI, remember?”
“Right.” Austin smiled uncertainly. Jeff seemed so grave and polite. They were standing close enough to hug, but Jeff made no move to hug him. Hell, they weren’t even shaking hands. Maybe he was only there to tell Austin he was required to testify at an inquest or something like that. Not knowing what to say, he settled on the truth. “It’s really good to see you.” It was. Like seeing the sun come out after a month of rain.
He didn’t ask—he was afraid to hear the answer—why are you here? But maybe the question was on his face.
“You didn’t come back,” Jeff said abruptly. “To Madison. You never came back. Not to finish the appraisal. Not for anything. It’s been three weeks, and I haven’t heard a word from you.”
Three weeks. It felt both much longer and much shorter than that. Austin had thought about Jeff a lot during that time—nearly as much as he had avoided thinking about Jeff. Because while thinking about Jeff was comforting in some respects, it was equally painful. He just couldn’t see Jeff disappointing all those generations of dead Bradys. And emotionally, Austin was at a place where he couldn’t have handled knowing for sure that it was over.
“I left the wine shop. I ended up resigning.”
If anything, Jeff’s face went sterner. “Yeah, that’s what the woman they sent to replace you said. She said you decided to write a book instead.”
Austin gave a disbelieving laugh. “Not exactly. That friend of mine who’s publishing Cormac’s stories suggested that collecting some of the wine blogs I’ve done over the years would make an entertaining book.”
“Congratulations.”
He wasn’t imagining it; Jeff seemed different. Older. Serious—almost subdued.
“How are they? The Cashels?”
“Fine. Enjoying spending all that money they don’t have yet.”
The silence that followed Jeff’s sardonic comment felt final.
Austin broke it awkwardly. “I’ve been meaning to phone you. I just…”
“Yeah?” Jeff’s smile was crooked.
It hadn’t occurred to Austin that Jeff might be hurt by his lack of communication. In fact, in his darkest moments, he had figured Jeff would probably be relieved to be let off the hook.
“I…was waiting till I knew what to tell you.”
Jeff said levelly, “I thought maybe that would be something we’d figure out together.”
Austin’s lips parted, but he really had no answer to that.
Jeff looked around. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
Austin also looked around vaguely. The gazebo? He didn’t want to bring Jeff into the house if Jeff was only here to officially tell him good-bye. There were enough painful memories in that house without adding that one. Which reminded him.
“How did the appraisal turn out? Were the Lee bottles ever found?”
“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Right. Of course. “Let’s try the gazebo,” Austin said.
“Wait,” Jeff said suddenly. “I brought you something.” He dived back in the car and carefully lifted out a brown-wrapped package. He handed it to Austin, who took it automatically. A bottle of wine. Well, not the most imaginative gift he’d ever received, but then again, maybe it was a vintage bottle from the Cashels’ cellar. Or a bottle of champagne. Maybe they were going to have something to celebrate?
“What’s this for?”
“I guess you’d better open it and find out.”
“Is it from you?”
“It’s from me. From me to you. Personal delivery.”
Austin felt a smile starting.
As they walked to the gazebo, Jeff asked, “How are you doing?”
>
“I’m okay. I never thanked you for—”
“Yeah.” Jeff sounded dry. “I’d be just as happy if you forgot most of that morning.”
Oh.
“How’s the boy genius doing?” Jeff asked into his silence.
“Better than me. He’s just dealing with grief. It’s painful, but it’s uncomplicated.”
To his surprise, Jeff slung an arm about his shoulders and gave him a hard, affectionate hug. “He loved you, Austin.”
“I know. But I disappointed him too. I don’t think we ever really got a chance to know each other. Really know each other. And I always thought we would. That one day…”
When Jeff didn’t reply, Austin said, “The hardest part is not having any warning, you know? Not having a chance to say good-bye. The last time I spoke to him, we were arguing.”
Jeff had an odd expression. He said, “I only knew your daddy like most people did, through the things he wrote and the things he said on television, but there is nothing about you that could have disappointed that man. You’re honest and kind and conscientious and intelligent. You’re a good man.”
It was Austin’s turn to color. “Thanks.”
Jeff added teasingly, “And sexy as hell.”
Austin laughed, looked away over the lawn. “Thanks again. Especially for that last one, although somehow I don’t think that mattered a lot to my dad.”
They walked up into the large open-air gazebo that looked over the roses and hedges. Austin leaned against the white railing. “Do I open this now?”
Jeff nodded curtly. “Sure. I thought if nothing else, you’d want to know how it all turned out.”
Austin could feel Jeff’s sudden tension, and it affected his own nerves. He tore off the wrapping. He gazed in amazement at the dark, dusty bottle with the date 1822 etched in white above the letters R-E-L. The words Blandy Madeira were printed at the base of each bottle.
“Wait a minute…” He stared bewilderedly at Jeff.
“They were buried beneath the cherry trees at Ballineen.”
“Oh my God. But…they can’t be the real thing.”
