David, Renewed

by Diana Copland

  “Would you like a chance to think about this?” Jackson’s brow furrowed when David’s thoughts spun out longer than they should have.

  “I… no,” he finally answered, knowing he was blushing. Again. With the amount of times the blood had rushed to his face in the last hour, he was surprised he didn’t pass out. “No, like I said, that all sounds fine. When can you start?”

  “Well—” Jackson glanced at the watch on his wrist. “—I can work for a few hours today if you like. I’ll have to leave by four, but that should at least give me time to diagnose the issue with the breaker box. And I can order a new water heater.”

  “That would be great,” David said emphatically. “The sooner the better.”

  Jackson nodded. “All right, then. I’ll go get my tools and be right back.”

  “Perfect.”

  David watched him walk out through the front door, then collapsed into the ugly recliner in the middle of the room, his hands on his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so intensely aware of a man’s presence. He glanced out the front window. Jackson was leaning into an open toolbox behind the cab of his truck and as he moved his jacket rode up his long body.

  David was really curious about the rest of that tattoo.

  WHILE MYSTERIOUS bangs and clanks came from his service porch, interspersed with long silences, David threw down an old blanket to protect the living room floors, then hauled in two more cinder blocks and a piece of shelving wood he found in the garage. After balancing the wood on the blocks, he made himself a makeshift desk in front of the recliner. It was awkward, the wood below the level of his knees, but it would have to make do. It was time to get realistic about his finances, especially if he was going to have to hire a lawyer. Going through his statements and monthly bills, cataloging them in stacks on the floor around the chair, David realized he was going to have to outfit an office. He missed the file cabinet and desk at the condo, but he was surprised he didn’t really miss anything else. Including Trevor.

  Leaning back in the chair and staring pensively through the window, he let that reality flow over him. He didn’t miss the condominium near the river, or the furniture Trevor picked out to furnish it. None of it was David’s style. The black leather couch and the expensive modern art on the walls, the chrome tables and the glass coffee table—it was all pretentious, nothing he’d have selected. He liked wood and fabric and warmth. He liked a home that felt like a home and not a showroom floor. He’d decorated high-end corporate headquarters that had more personality than his own condo, and he wondered again if he’d really been so eager to please Trevor that he’d simply gone along, subjugating his own taste in an effort to please him. With a sinking sensation in his chest, he knew he had.

  He’d met Trevor straight out of college in a gay bar downtown. Shy and painfully insecure, David hadn’t believed it when smooth, handsome Trevor Blankenship had zeroed in on him. He’d been so damned thrilled with the glamorous man’s attention he’d have done just about anything to keep it. Including turning into his doormat.

  “Never again,” he muttered. “Never fucking again.”

  The sun slanted through the front window at a low angle, turning the room golden. Footsteps sounded behind him and David turned to see Jackson looking around the room, the denim jacket draped over his arm and his blue-and-brown plaid button-down shirt rolled up on his forearms. They were thick and sprinkled with dark hair, and David forced himself not to stare. He had a thing for men’s forearms.

  “This room is really beautiful.” Jackson’s face softened, and the transformation on his handsome features was dramatic. It made him seem more approachable.

  “Yeah,” David looked around. “I love the wood.”

  “Me too.” Jackson shrugged into his jacket. “Well, I have some good news.” He freed the collar of his shirt from the dark denim. “The wiring is all copper, not aluminum, so I can change out the box without too much trouble. I’ll pick one up on Monday. And I yanked out some of the drywall. The best news of the day is I didn’t see any mold.”

  “Oh, thank God.” The rush of relief made David almost light-headed.

  “Yeah,” Jackson agreed. “You lucked out there. The drywall was still damp, so I have a feeling the leak isn’t very old, which is also good news. It means it hasn’t been going on for years and compromising the structure. I have a feeling the only reason the fuse box didn’t set the house on fire was the wall above it was still wet.”

  David felt a chill run the length of his spine. God, the house could have burned down while he was sleeping. There wasn’t a single smoke alarm in the place, something else that would have shown up with an inspection.

  “The leak might have happened during that last bad storm,” Jackson went on. There had been a violent thunderstorm right after David bought the house, with soaking rains and wind gusts upward of sixty miles an hour. He’d been glad none of the massive old trees on the side of the house had ripped out of the ground and come down on the roof. Other places in town hadn’t been so lucky. “I’ll know more on Monday when I get up on the roof.”

  “Okay.” David gave him a slight smile.

  They stared at each other, and then Jackson cleared his throat. “I hate to ask, but… I’m going to need a deposit if I’m buying stuff.”

  “Oh God, of course you are.” David moved some papers and found his checkbook, grabbing a pen from the top of his makeshift work station. “How much do you need?” He looked up at Jackson expectantly.

  “Three hundred should do it for now. I’ll let you know Monday how much the water heater is going to be.”

  David wrote a check for eight hundred instead, ripped it from the pad, and held it out.

  Jackson tucked the check into a pocket. “Thank you.”

  “If you need more money, tell me.”

  “Sure thing. What time do you leave for work in the morning?”

  The question startled David and he blinked in surprise. “About seven thirty usually. Why?”

  “Well, unless you want to give me a key to your house, I need to be here before you go.” He shrugged a bit self-consciously. “So, I’ll see you about seven thirty on Monday.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

  Jackson gave him a tight nod, then walked out.

  David stared after him, thinking however long it took for the repairs on the house to be complete, it wasn’t going to be long enough for him to get tired of that view.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AFTER GOING over all his financial information, David decided he could get everything done on the house without cashing in any of his retirement fund, as long as he economized everywhere else. Well, and as long as Trevor paid the mortgage on the condo. As a result, he decided staying with his mom until he had power and hot water was the best way to go. She welcomed him with open arms and wouldn’t even hear of him helping pay for groceries. He knew his dad left her well taken care of, but decided he’d start taking her out to dinner once a week if she was determined not to let him contribute. Plus, as he slept in his old room and sat at her table, he was reminded how much he enjoyed her company. The relationship between his family and Trevor had always been cool, and he hadn’t wanted to spend any more time with them than he’d had to on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

  Come Monday he’d have to find a lawyer. He had to separate his finances from Trevor’s. Trevor had a decent job as a salesman for a high-end liquor distributor; he could afford the payment on the condo—he’d just never had to make it, and pretty clearly he didn’t want to. David had received several texts from him in the last couple of days, all with the same theme: you know it didn’t mean anything, you know I love you. With a spurt of anger, David decided Trevor had pretty much proved the opposite, and if he wouldn’t make the payments on the condo, then it would be sold.

  He had breakfast with his mom Sunday morning at the same kitchen table he’d eaten his morning cereal at as a kid. He watched her moving around the kitchen, refusi
ng his help, making him pancakes while he nursed a cup of coffee. No one made better coffee than his mom, not even the Keurig he’d lost custody of.

  She set a plate in front of him and got a cup of coffee for herself before pulling out a chair and sitting on the other side of the table.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked as he poured syrup over his pancakes. His mom had the good kind, in a little jug straight from Vermont.

  “I ate earlier,” she answered.

  “Toast?” He arched an eyebrow. She gave him a withering look.

  “You’ve been listening to your sister.”

  “Toast isn’t enough for breakfast, Mom. You’ve told me that for years.”

  “I had a carton of yogurt too. Don’t fuss.” She fixed him with a level look. “So, what do you think of Jackson?”

  That was certainly an effective way of changing the subject. David picked up his knife and fork, then cut into the soft pancakes. The smell that lifted from them made his stomach grumble. “Well, he’s gorgeous,” he said finally.

  “Isn’t he?” His mom gave him a mischievous smile over her coffee cup.

  “I hope he’s as good at what he does as he is at filling out those Levi’s.”

  She chuckled. “Well, he seemed very efficient when he was here.”

  “What did you have him do?” David took a bite of his pancakes and rolled his eyes in bliss. They melted on his tongue and were his childhood Christmas mornings in one bite. Warmth swamped him, along with the realization he hadn’t spent enough time with his mother for the last five years. “These are amazing, Mom,” he said when he’d swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. And in answer to your question, the garage door stopped working about six months ago.” The offhand comment reminded David of his own missing garage door opener, and that he meant to tell Jackson. “Your dad wasn’t feeling up to bothering with it, and I’d heard about Jackson, so I called him. He got it working again in an hour and didn’t even charge me.” Her smile ripened. “I baked him cookies.” David grinned and she shrugged. “You aren’t the only one who enjoys eye candy, my dear.”

  He laughed. “Where did you hear about him?”

  “I know his mother. She’s in my garden club.” Beverley took another sip of coffee. “She has the most beautiful rose garden, which I believe Jackson helped her install. You should ask him about it. Rose bushes would look lovely down the side of your driveway.”

  They might be a bit high maintenance for someone who worked as much as he did, but he didn’t say that.

  “He’s gay, by the way.”

  David choked on his pancake. She patted him on the back while he sputtered and took a drink of his coffee.

  “How do you know that?” His voice came out a bit ragged.

  “I know his mom. We talk.”

  “About your sons’ sex lives?” David felt heat rush up his face and feared his voice sounded like he hadn’t reached puberty yet.

  “No.” His mother gave him a pointed look. “But we do talk about our children, including what our sons do for a living.”

  “That’s why you and Beth were so weird the other night, because he’s gay.” David sighed. “Well, he’s very professional. I didn’t pick up on it at all. He didn’t cruise me even once.” He took a bite of his breakfast. “Dammit,” he said around a mouthful of pancake. He was teasing, but the thought actually was disappointing. She smiled, but it faded and she looked troubled for a moment.

  “What’s that face about?”

  She sighed softly. “Did you wonder why he’s a handyman, why he works alone?”

  “Not really. Some people like to work alone.” He studied her pensive face. “But I have a feeling there’s a story.”

  “There is. He moved here to help take care of his mom. She was diagnosed with MS recently.” She sighed. “It’s such a shame. Sometimes she’s fine, but….” She shrugged one shoulder.

  “That’s hard,” he murmured. He couldn’t imagine, actually. After watching his dad die slowly, the idea of his mom being diagnosed with something debilitating made him feel cold clear through.

  “She has two other children and they live locally, but they’re busy.” Beverley sniffed, letting David know what she thought of that. “As if Jackson isn’t. He is the only one who doesn’t have kids of his own, however. He’d been living on the coast, but the moment his mom said she needed help, he moved right back here. Over there he worked with a large construction company, and he made really good money. But here….”

  David frowned. “There is construction done here. I see crews working downtown all the time. Isn’t he in the union?”

  She nodded. “But he doesn’t hide, Davy. Not who he is, not anything.”

  Now David understood. “Ahh.” David grimaced. “The good old straight-boys network.”

  The town had over four hundred thousand people in it, but the predominant attitude was very small town and conservative. Not particularly gay friendly. He should know; he’d grown up being the butt of every gay joke and prejudiced expletive imaginable. Good old straight boys raised children just like them.

  “He couldn’t get hired. Then one night someone took a baseball bat to his truck as it sat in the alley behind his mom’s house. Broke out every bit of glass, slashed the tires. Spray-painted ‘faggot’ on the side. It was awful. And very expensive to fix.”

  A slow, simmering anger filled him. David only had a dim recollection of a pickup truck in the driveway, but he could imagine what it cost to replace all the glass and tires. He’d been called faggot from the time he’d been in the fifth grade and all the way through high school, but it hadn’t figured in his professional life. Of course he worked in an industry where his sexual orientation wasn’t an issue, and since he was the head of his department, if anyone did have a problem they were smart enough to keep it to themselves. But for Jackson….

  “That’s a hate crime. Did he call the police?”

  Beverley nodded. “They took a report, but there wasn’t a whole lot they could do. There were no witnesses. It was a lousy welcome home for him.”

  “No shit,” David growled. She gave him a scolding look, but he didn’t care. He shook his head slowly. “This is wrong on so many levels.” He pushed the plate away. He’d eaten about half of the pancakes, but his appetite had faded. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jackson before?”

  Beverley looked at the tabletop and worried the edges of a paper towel with her fingernail. After a lengthy pause, she looked up into David’s eyes. “I wanted you to meet him first and hire him if you thought he could help you with the house. I didn’t think he’d want the main reason to be because he’s gay.”

  David thought about the man he’d spent hours with the day before. He pursed his lips, then nodded. She was right. But then, she usually was.

  AT SEVEN thirty Monday morning, David stepped out of his mother’s house and began the short walk to the craftsman a block over. It was chilly and he was glad he’d slipped into his long black wool overcoat and wrapped a scarf around his throat. A soft breeze picked up his bangs and stirred the brilliant fall leaves that made a canopy over the street. He loved fall, and he closed his eyes and inhaled the scents of wood smoke and the late-blooming lilies. A school bus passed him, stirring a small flurry of dried leaves, and he checked both ways before striding out to cross the street.

  A silver pickup truck with ladders hanging on each side sat in front of his house, Jackson sitting behind the wheel, sipping from a cup of something hot. Steam rose, curling around his head. David waved and Jackson nodded in response before he stepped out of the truck as David reached him.

  “Good morning.” David glanced at the late model GMC, saw how spotlessly clean it was, and recalled what his mom had told him about the vandalism. The whole thing upset David all over again.

  “Morning.” Jackson studied him, a slight frown growing. “Everything all right?”

  David forced his irritation down. He never had be
en able to hide anything, his emotions crossing over his face the moment he thought them. “Oh, everything’s fine. Just… Monday,” David improvised, and Jackson nodded slowly, but David could see he wasn’t quite buying it. “So, I’ll let you in.” He started around the front of the truck.

  “What time do you usually get home?” Jackson fell into step beside him.

  “It varies.” David dug his keys out of the pocket of his slacks as they crossed the lawn. “Why?”

  “I was able to chase down a water heater at a really good price, but I’ll need to go pick it up. And I need to go get the new breaker panel. I didn’t think you’d want me to leave the house unlocked.”

  David chuckled. “God forbid they take that recliner.”

  Jackson’s lips curved in a smile. “You don’t want to lose any of the fixtures or hardware, though.”

  David chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. After a moment he began to work his house key off his key ring.

  “Here, this way you won’t have to worry about whether I’m here or not.” Jackson stared at the key, an odd expression on his face. “What?”

  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  David angled his head to one side. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “You’re pretty trusting. How do you know I don’t have designs on that dining room fixture?”

  David studied the handsome face and the vivid blue eyes. “My mom is a pretty good judge of character and she likes you. I’ll risk it.”

  A slow smile curled Jackson’s lips and a corresponding heat began to fill David’s chest.

  “Well, I have to admit—” Jackson took David’s key, and when their fingers brushed, David fought to hide a resulting shiver. “—I do sort of covet that recliner.”

  David laughed. “If I ever get anything else to sit on, I’ll give it to you as a bonus.” Heat filled his cheeks when Jackson arched an ironic eyebrow. Had he sounded like a jackass? He wasn’t sure.