A Christmas Promise

by K. C. Wells

  I should have tried to find you sooner, I know that now. But as time went by, I made more and more excuses.

  Remember me, Joshua. Remember what we shared. I look at how the world is changing, and part of me likes to imagine that we could have had what others now enjoy—marriage, equality…. Happiness.

  Never forget I loved you first.

  Hayden

  Greg’s vision blurred, and tears dripped onto the paper. He knew he was crying for so many reasons; the father he’d only gotten to know a little of: the love that permeated those few lines: the knowledge that he and his dad were more alike than either of them had guessed; and finally, the heartache Joshua and his dad had clearly suffered.

  A gentle hand covered his. “Here.” A folded cotton handkerchief was pressed into his palm.

  Greg wiped his eyes and looked up. “What happened? Did you break up or something?”

  Joshua swallowed. “Our parents. That’s what happened. Then my family moved from Alabama to Wyoming. I had no idea where Hayden ended up—now that I know about you, I’m assuming California. I never heard from him again.”

  Greg nodded. “So you and he… my dad was… gay?”

  “Gay, bi, I’m not certain. I can only speak for myself.”

  “And… did you feel for him, the way he felt for you?”

  “God, yes.” Joshua’s eyes glistened, and Greg cursed the fact that he couldn’t move the way he wanted. Joshua shifted closer and held his arms wide.

  That was all the invitation Greg needed.

  He buried his face in Joshua’s chest, and the dam burst. Hot tears soaked into Joshua’s thick shirt, and Greg made no attempt to rein them in. Joshua’s body shuddered, and Greg knew he too was crying. Little by little, he regained his composure, until finally his tears dried up and he pulled away, exhausted.

  Joshua pushed Greg’s hair back from his forehead. “You okay?” His eyes were red, his cheeks blotchy.

  Greg nodded, inhaling deeply. “Sorry about that.”

  Joshua sniffed. “Nothing to be sorry for. And there was I, thinking I was all cried out.”

  A thought occurred to him. “Does Micah know? Has he read this?” Greg handed the sheets and photos to Joshua.

  “He knows, but… you’re the only other person to read it.” Joshua gazed at him thoughtfully. “If your dad was never going to mail this, what changed his mind?”

  Greg sagged against the seat cushions. “The first thing I knew about the letter was the day before he died. He gave me the envelope and made me promise to mail it to you. I was to make sure you received it.”

  Joshua sat so still. “Did… did he suffer, at the end?”

  Greg couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand to see the pain in his eyes. “He was heavily sedated. He kept pointing to the nightstand drawer, so I opened it. I found the envelope.” It had made Greg’s heart ache, just hearing his dad trying to get the words out. But finally, Greg had grasped what he wanted. “When he’d… gone, I looked you up and found your address. I wrote it on a slip of paper and put it in my wallet. I was going to mail it, honestly. But then I got to thinking… It was my dad’s final request. The least I could do would be to deliver it in person.”

  “Not that you weren’t in the least bit curious,” Joshua said with a wry smile.

  Heat crawled up Greg’s chest and neck, finally reaching his ears that he felt sure were glowing, they were so hot. “Possibly,” he admitted.

  Joshua folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope, adding the strip of photos.

  “Were they in with the letter?”

  Joshua shook his head. “I kept these. They were the only photos of him that I had.”

  Greg stilled. “Did…. Did your wife ever see them?” Joshua nodded. “Did she say anything?” Greg doubted anyone could miss the almost tangible, emotional connection between the two young men in that last photo. Not unless they deliberately chose to ignore it…

  Joshua glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “I think that’s a tale for another night. It’s getting late, you’ve had a long day, and you need to rest.” Greg opened his mouth to protest that he wasn’t tired, and a yawn escaped. Joshua smiled. “I rest my case.”

  “You promise you’ll tell me the rest of the story?” Greg had more questions, but they had time.

  “I will. I’ll tell both of you.”

  That was good enough for Greg. Then Joshua slipped his arms under Greg’s back and leg, and lifted him carefully into the air. “Bedtime.”

  Greg clung on as Joshua carried him to the guest bedroom that would be his for a while. How long for, Greg had no idea. Long enough for him to find out more about his dad, and the man who had loved him.

  Joshua set him down on the bed. “I’ll wish you a good night, then.”

  “Wait!” When Joshua halted, Greg found the words he’d wanted to say since Joshua had carried him through the front door. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for paying my hospital bills. You didn’t need to do that. Only, now I kind of understand why you did.” He lifted his chin and met Joshua’s gaze. “That was because of my dad, right?”

  Joshua nodded. “Like I said… anything for Hayden’s boy.” He gave Greg a warm smile. “Now get some sleep.” He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Almost in slow motion, Greg undressed, removing the sweat pants that Micah had brought for him. He supposed he’d get used to the cast, but it frustrated the hell out of him, and he couldn’t wait for it to be removed for good. He lay in bed, his mind going over his dad’s letter.

  Greg’s last thought before sleep overtook him was one of regret.

  I should have told him I was gay. I thought we had more time.

  Chapter Seven

  Greg had no idea what had awoken him, and for a moment he had no clue where he was. Then he heard the light tap on his door, and everything came flooding back.

  Micah’s home. Joshua and my dad… in love.

  It still felt unreal.

  “Greg? You awake?”

  Greg rubbed his eyes. “Sure. Come in.”

  The door opened, and Micah came in carrying a mug, steam rising from it. “Hey. Good morning. How did you sleep? I brought you some coffee.” He grinned. “It’s better than the hospital version, I swear.”

  Greg stuffed a pillow behind him and sat up. “That wouldn’t be difficult.” He sniffed at the T-shirt he’d slept in. “You think I could do some laundry today?” He’d packed light for the trip, but he’d already run out of clean clothing.

  “Yeah, sure.” Micah placed the mug on the nightstand, then perched on the edge of the bed. “So how did you sleep?”

  “Like a log.” His leg had bothered him some, and there had been more than enough simmering inside his head to keep sleep at bay, but once he’d taken his meds, that was it, lights out. He was still feeling pretty zonked. “But I think those pills are really strong.”

  Micah arched his eyebrows. “They’re probably standard painkillers, but being as slight as you are? Yeah, I can see how they’d knock you out.” He gazed at the cast. “Is that comfortable?”

  “I don’t think it’s supposed to be comfortable, but it does its job.” Speaking of which… “I guess I’d better get into a routine of changing the bandages. The hospital gave me instructions.”

  “Do the pins have to be taken out at some point?”

  Greg shook his head. “I just have to make sure I tell people, you know, like when I go through airport security and stuff like that. And my dentist needs to know, apparently.”

  “I was thinking about you this morning when I woke up.” Micah’s brow furrowed. “You don’t have a phone, do you?”

  “No. That was taken, along with my wallet.” Except Greg had a sneaking suspicion that had been to give the illusion of a robbery.

  “So… you don’t know if people have been trying to contact you.” Micah gazed at him steadily. “Like your family. Do they even know where you are? Did you call them while you
were in hospital?”

  Shit. Micah’s question brought him face to face with the reality he’d been trying so hard to avoid. “No, I didn’t.”

  Micah’s eyes widened. “Aw, Greg. Don’t you think you should have? I mean, they might be worried sick.”

  “I doubt that, somehow.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from pervading his words. Maybe he had them all wrong, but then again….

  Micah kept silent, but his face said plenty. The skin around his mouth tightened, and he frowned.

  Maybe Micah had a point. “Look, I promise I’ll call them today. If your dad is okay with it.”

  Micah smiled, his tension clearly dissipating. “He’ll be fine with it. Now, I can take your clothes and add them to the laundry, but in the meantime, I’ve been thinking. That pair of sweats you wore home from the hospital? You can keep those, plus I have a couple of old pairs that would probably fit over that cast. And if they don’t, we can always cut off the leg. They’ll be warm enough to wear around the house, and it’s not like you’ll be going anywhere for a while. Plus, I have some sweaters that will probably fit you, and some thick socks. It didn’t look like you had all that much clothing with you.”

  Like Micah and his dad hadn’t done enough for him already. “Thanks. That sounds great. And thanks for the coffee.”

  Micah got up from the bed. “I’ll leave you alone to enjoy it in peace. And if you need a hand getting to the bathroom, give me a yell. It’s only a couple of doors away, and it has a shower.” He smiled. “I have a roll of plastic wrapping in my studio. I’ll bring some to cover your cast.” Micah walked over to the door. “There’s a robe in the closet for you. Call out when you’re ready.” He left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  Greg picked up the mug and inhaled the aroma. Ever since Joshua had volunteered to pay Greg’s medical bills, the whole situation had taken on a ‘too good to be true’ dimension. Add to that Micah’s hospital visits, a place to stay while he recuperated, the kindness they’d shown him ever since Joshua had carried him into the house….

  There are some wonderful people in this world. Greg was pretty sure he was staying with two of them.

  “Where’s Greg?” Dad removed the pack of bacon from the fridge, along with a carton of eggs.

  “In the shower.” Micah had left him the plastic wrapping, figuring Greg would be more comfortable doing it himself. He’d helped Greg to the bathroom, stressing that if he got into any difficulty in the shower, he had to call for help. It had to be awkward, dealing with a shower when he couldn’t put any weight on his leg. “He looks kinda tired. I think his meds are making him a little fuzzy headed.”

  “Well, that leg has to be painful.” Dad broke six eggs into a glass bowl, then whisked them with a fork.

  Micah peered at his dad. “What time did you two get to bed last night?”

  “Oh, not that late. We did some talking.” Dad put down the fork and leaned against the cabinet. “We both got a little emotional, to be honest. I let him read his dad’s letter.”

  Micah stilled. “Really?”

  Dad gave him a sad smile. “Don’t worry. I always intended letting you read it, but it seemed important to let Greg read it first. His father and all.”

  Micah got that, he truly did, but… “There’s a lot of stuff you still have to tell me, isn’t there?” He didn’t like this feeling that Dad was keeping him in the dark. Since when did we ever keep secrets from each other?

  Dad regarded him in silence, then sighed. “Yeah. And I promise, one day soon, I’ll sit you both down and we’ll talk. Let Greg get settled in first, okay?”

  Micah nodded, slightly mollified. “He needs to call California, by the way. His mom and stepdad don’t know what’s happened.”

  Dad gaped. “Seriously? God, Micah. I had no idea. Yeah, he needs to do that first.” He cocked his head. “Shower’s stopped. Go tell him I’m getting breakfast ready. I assume eggs, bacon and toast will be okay.”

  Micah left him and went into the little hallway that led to the guest bedroom, bathroom and laundry room. He tapped on the bathroom door. “Dad’s cooking breakfast. How do you like your eggs?”

  “Scrambled, please. I’ll be right out. By the way, this bench in the shower is a godsend.”

  Micah chuckled. “That was my mom’s idea. She planned that bathroom. You managed okay?”

  From behind the door, he caught Greg’s laugh. “Yeah, I coped just fine. All I had to do was sit here. Your mom liked her showers, didn’t she? This one has all the bells and whistles, doesn’t it?”

  Micah knew what Greg referred to. That shower had a rainfall head set into the ceiling, a couple of handheld shower heads, and finally a set of small jets set into the tiles. Mom loved her creature comforts.

  “I won’t be long. Just have to unwrap myself first. Then we’ll see how long it takes me to hobble to you.” Greg snickered.

  “If you need a hand, you just yell, okay?” Micah left him to it and rejoined Dad in the kitchen. “Is Naomi not coming home this weekend? I’d have thought she’d want to meet Greg.”

  Dad sighed. “Apparently, she has a big test on Monday, so she’s burying herself in her books. But she’ll be here Wednesday.”

  For a moment, Micah was perplexed, then he remembered. Thanksgiving was only six days away. “I’d better put a grocery list together.” He stared at his dad. “You did remember to order a turkey, right?”

  “No, of course not. I thought we’d have pizza this year.” Dad rolled his eyes. “It’s being delivered Wednesday morning, oh ye of little faith.”

  Micah held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying. I remember last year.”

  “Hey!” Dad glared at him. “So I forgot. As your sister is so fond of saying, bite me. And we did have a turkey, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, we did,” Micah said slowly. “It was the last one in the store, and about the size of a pigeon.” He pointed to the stove. “Don’t you have eggs to cook?”

  Dad narrowed his gaze. “God, you remind me of your mother sometimes.” Then his face softened. “Thank God.”

  A muted cough came from the doorway. Greg stood there in soft, dark gray sweats and a dark blue sweater. He gestured to his leg. “Look, no cast,” he joked. He hobbled awkwardly into the room, his hands gripping the crutches tightly, his left leg held stiffly off the ground. “Still haven’t gotten the hang of these,” he said sheepishly.

  Dad was at his side in a heartbeat. “You come sit over here,” he said, guiding Greg toward a chair. “Micah? Grab some cushions for me, will ya?” He took the crutches from Greg once he’d sat down.

  Micah ran into the living room and returned with a couple of cushions, which Dad placed on another chair, before carefully lifting Greg’s leg onto it. “You need to rest this leg, all right? Don’t go putting any weight on it. And this way, you can keep it straight.”

  Greg sighed. “I’m not about to fall or anything. And although I appreciate the help, I have to get used to getting around on those things.” Then he winced.

  “Sure you do.” Dad regarded him closely. “And I’m gonna go right on acting like a mother hen until that leg stops hurting as much as it obviously does.”

  Micah touched Greg’s shoulder. “Where are your meds?”

  “On the nightstand in my room.”

  “I’ll get them.” Without giving Greg the opportunity to reply, Micah left them and went to Greg’s room. The sheet of capsules sat next to the wrapped wooden box. Micah picked them up and hurried back to the kitchen. Dad had already poured out a glass of water.

  Greg pressed out two capsules and chased them down with the water, his face pale.

  “And when breakfast is over, you are gonna sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, except read, watch TV, or any other activities that don’t require movement. Do I make myself clear?” Dad gave Greg a firm stare.

  “Crystal.” Greg’s stomach rumbled, and he flushed.

  Mic
ah chuckled. “That’s your cue, Dad.” He glanced at Greg. “Smart move. It’s always best to just nod and agree. Makes for a far easier life in the long run.”

  Greg gave him a half smile. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  “And after breakfast, before you take up residence on the couch, you can go into my office and call your mom,” Dad added as he put the pan on the stove.

  Greg blinked. “Oh. Okay. Thank you.”

  Dad beamed. “See? We’re all gonna get along great. All you have to do is do exactly what I say.”

  Micah leaned closer to Greg and said in a stage whisper, “We let him think he’s in charge. It makes him happy.”

  Greg snickered, and quickly reached for his glass of water. His pallor had lessened, for which Micah was thankful. The meds might make Greg woolly-headed, but that had to be better than the pain.

  And maybe the meds will make the call to his mom a little easier. It was obvious to Micah that Greg wasn’t happy about the prospect, which only made Micah curious to know more. What’s the deal with his family?

  He had a feeling they’d know soon enough. One thing seemed certain: they had a lot to discuss over the coming days.

  Greg stared at the phone in his lap. The office door was closed. Joshua had gone to the store, and Micah had said something about working on a canvas. Greg suspected they were giving him space and privacy, which he greatly appreciated. It was only when he started to tap out the numbers that he realized it was a harder task than he’d anticipated.

  When was the last time I dialed from memory? It was all too easy to press a single key. We’re letting our brains go dull by relying on technology. Greg knew he was procrastinating, but he couldn’t help it. Anything to put off the moment. Sighing, he concentrated for a minute or two, until he was sure he had the right number. The phone barely had chance to ring twice before it was answered.