Dillon only had two presents left when there was a pounding at the door. All conversation ceased, every one of us turning to look, even the youngest kids, as if we could feel the malevolence seeping through the doorframe.
We all sat there, frozen.
The pounding began again. With a glance toward Mom, Dad stood, straightened his shoulders, and walked toward the door.
Though I couldn’t explain it, I nearly called out to him, nearly begged him to sit back down. Suggested we could just ignore it and they would go away. I suddenly felt thirteen again, helpless and terrified.
Dad turned the deadbolt, then the doorknob. He’d barely begun to open the door when it burst open, causing him to stumble back and catch his balance on the wall.
Beside me, Moses whispered one trembling word, confirming he felt as young and helpless as I did. “Dad.”
I remained frozen as my brother Russell stormed into the house.
Seven
Micah
I remember the moment Connor walked through the door of our house for the first time. Mom and Dad had explained that a friend of Gilbert’s had a family who didn’t love him and that our family had more than enough love to share. That he was going to be my new brother. When he arrived, I thought he must have been from a family of giants. He was so tall. Already taller than my dad. He was huge. Looking back at family photos, I realize how thin he was, nearly malnourished-looking, but I hadn’t noticed that at the time. He’d seemed massive. Plus, the way my heart had tripped over itself in fear, at least that was the only familiar sensation I could attribute it to, was only more proof of his giant status.
However, that giant was gentle, and kind, and patient. And he often seemed more scared of me than I was of him. Scared of all of us. Before long, I loved him, adored him, worshiped him as much as I did Gilbert.
The other clear memory I have was his parents showing up. It had been confusing. Sure, I’d known Connor had a different mom and dad, but he’d blended in so perfectly, my own parents treating him no different from the rest of us that somehow in the months in between, I’d forgotten. It had been the first day of Christmas break. We’d been so excited. Out of school, nothing but parties and presents and sleeping in. Somehow that made their appearance so much worse.
We’d been sent to our room. All of us. There’d been screaming and yelling downstairs. With all of us kids, there was always at least one fight or another going on, but I’d never heard screaming like this, never heard anger like it.
I’d tried to take shelter in Gilbert and Connor’s room, but Gilbert wouldn’t let me. Said it was his job to protect Connor, and I’d only get in the way. Hayley let Lacy and me hide in her room, both of them holding and soothing me when I’d started to cry. The yelling continued, growing louder and angrier, and nearer.
Outside the bedroom doors.
And then it was over. Complete silence. Mom and Dad came to get us, told us that Connor was gone, but they were going to get him back.
Gilbert stayed in his room the entire next week. He wouldn’t let me in, but I’d heard him crying sometimes. That helped. Made me feel less like a little kid when I was crying.
I never knew what happened, never asked. Mom and Dad were tense, always on the phone, running here and there.
Christmas Eve came, and Connor returned. A black eye, split lip, a bit skinnier than the week since I’d last seen him. But he was back. Mom and Dad said he was back for good. For always.
Since I was four, I’d added my talent on the violin to the Christmas singalong the Kellys and my family always had on Christmas Eve. That night, I played “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” said it was for Connor. Made Mom and Dad promise they’d meant what they’d said. That Connor was home to stay. They swore they did.
I made Connor promise he’d never leave again. He promised he wouldn’t.
I’ve played it every Christmas Eve since.
When Russell Clark burst through our door, it took my brain a moment to catch on. It was nineteen years ago, and Connor’s parents had come to take him away.
I’d been across the room, giving Olive a gift I’d gotten her so she’d have something to open on Dillon’s birthday. Hayley had told me she was old enough to deal. But she was the baby of the family; I related. Even so, I left her where she was and rushed to Connor, taking a place in front of him, determined to fight his evil parents to the death if need be.
Connor gripped my shoulder from behind and hissed in my ear. “Breathe. He’s not here for me. It’s Moses’s dad.”
For a second, I didn’t understand, and then I felt like a fool. I’d truly been nine years old again for a few moments. I had to glance around the room to reground myself. Sure enough, my brothers and sisters were all grown up. There were nephews and a niece and in-laws. The Kellys weren’t there. It wasn’t Christmas Eve.
I relaxed. No, I didn’t relax, but I finally remembered to breathe. I moved away, taking my place beside Connor instead of in front of him.
Then I saw Moses’s face. Pure, unadulterated terror made him suddenly look so much younger than his seventeen years, but every bit of the terrified giant I remembered from long ago. In that instant, any fleck of resentment at his presence vanished, and my soul pledged loyalty to him as much as it did to Connor.
That was the moment Moses quit being family in name and became blood, became a Bryant.
All of that happened before Russell was halfway into the living room. Then the world went from nearly frozen motion to hyperdrive.
Russell was across the space and inches from Connor. He was big, but not as tall, not even as tall as me. His fury, however, made him seem larger than life, as did his volume. As he screamed, he shoved his finger over and over into Connor’s chest. “How dare you! In the name of God, how dare you! You infect my son’s soul with your evil, with your demons, and now you try to corrupt my other children? I’ll kill you before I let that happen. I swear to God!” He turned to Moses. “And you, isn’t—”
He didn’t finish. Connor sidestepped, putting himself between Russell and Moses. “Back off.”
Russell attempted to move around Connor, but Connor grabbed his upper arm. Russell yanked out of his grasp but quit trying to get to Moses. “Don’t touch me, faggot.”
I recoiled, and from my periphery, I noticed several other members of my family having similar reactions. Connor didn’t even flinch. “What’s your problem, Russell? The courts decided. It’s done. It’s the law. What’s the point of doing anything now?”
Russell didn’t back down. “There’s a higher law. And now it’s not just Moses. You’re coming after the rest of my family.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve not had a lick of contact with your family. I never have. I left you people and never looked back.”
“Of course vulgar words pour out of you like nothing.” Russell sneered. “And you what? Thought that we people were too stupid to find out about that vile thing you call a youth center you’re planning to build? Less than five miles from my home! From my church! From my children and grandchildren!” He began punctuating his words with his finger once again. Connor did nothing to stop him.
As Russell screamed, the rest of the family gathered, making a cluster at Connor’s and my back, surrounding Moses. I noticed Hayley holding Olive in her arms. Even in that instant, I wondered if she’d been taken back all those years as well and knew it didn’t make it any less terrifying to be hidden away in another room.
“Quit touching my boy.” Mom stepped beside Connor and pushed at Russell’s arm. He didn’t budge, but he was distracted enough to let his hand fall away from Connor. “And if you have a problem, talk to me. I’m the one who planned the youth center.”
He glared at her, nearly as much hate in his eyes for her as for Connor. “Not enough to corrupt the youth in this town of Sodom and Gomorrah? Have to come after my family, my community?”
She held her ground and lifted her chin. “Never enough. As long as the
re is scum like you laying hands on innocent children and telling them they’re going to hell, then no. It will never be enough. And if any other of your children or grandchildren are gay, they’re more than welcome in my home.”
“Don’t you dare threaten my—” He’d lifted his hand like he was going to strike her, and the entire family seemed to lurch forward, but none of us were needed.
Connor’s hand shot out and grasped Russell’s forearm, holding him still. I’d heard Connor angry many times over the years, but his voice had never caused me fear. It did then. “If you touch her, I will kill you, and I promise you, though you might be too weak to carry through on your threat, I mean mine.”
For just a flash, I saw fear cross Russell’s face, but then it was gone. He angled so he could peer around Connor’s shoulder. “Moses, get your faggot ass out here. At least pretend to be a man instead of hiding behind some old woman’s skirt.”
Without thinking, I reached out and grasped Moses’s hand. He held on so tightly it hurt.
Connor sidestepped once more. “That’s not going to be any smarter than threatening my mom.”
“He’s my damn kid.”
“Not anymore he’s not.” Dad’s voice rang out at my back, I hadn’t noticed he was the one there. “Want me to get the paperwork to refresh your memory?”
“Like I care what a court says.” Russell attempted to reach past Connor and grab Moses.
Connor shoved him, hard. Russell stumbled backward, nearly caught himself, but then his foot slipped on a scrap of discarded gift-wrap and he fell, crashing hard on his ass.
Lacy spoke up before Russell could stand. “Try to touch Moses again, and we’ll make another call to social services.”
Walden’s voice joined hers. “And I happen to be recording all of this.” He held up his cell. “Wanna repeat how you don’t care about the law? Remind the court and social services they need to keep a close eye on your entire family?”
Russell stood, but it was clear he was backing down. That threat meant more to him than Connor promising to kill him. I couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten off without jail time with the reports that had been filed over Moses, but it seemed he wasn’t sure he could do it a second time. Even so, he tried again. “He’s still my son. Even if he’s a….” He grimaced. “He belongs to me. You’re endangering his soul. I’ll call the cops and—”
Gilbert’s unmistakable laugh cut through his threat. Bright and laced with a disdain only Gilbert could capture. “You’ll what? Who and what do you think you are, Russell? Better yet, who do you think we are? We’re the Bryants, and as much as you think that God of yours hung the moon, I can promise we’ve got more money than that fucker. Hell, I made over seventy grand last month. How many years would that take you?”
Gilbert hardly made that every month. He’d been working on a piece of jewelry for some movie star for nearly half a year, but leave it to Gilbert to milk it.
“And that’s just me. You go ahead and call those cops. My sister and husband might play nice and just call social services on your ass, but I can promise you, I’ll use every one of my many, many dollars and come after you. Until you don’t have a roof over your head, a floor under your feet, or a fucking bag to pass around your church to scrape money from all the sickos who come to hear your filth.”
The anger Russell had shown before was nothing compared to the hatred that poured from his eyes, from every fiber of his being. He opened his mouth, moving it, though no words came.
Gilbert continued to taunt. “What is it, Russell? Tell us what you’re gonna do.”
Russell stood there, trembling. A tear ran down his cheek. I doubted it was from fear or hurt, probably the only expression of the powerlessness he’d been left with. Wherever it came from, it broke the spell. He wiped it away, glaring at his damp fingers in disgust, then whirled and ran from the house.
We all stood there, frozen. In shock and disbelief. Half expecting him to appear in the doorway he’d left open to the night.
Then Connor turned, and only then did I see the tears streaming down his cheeks. Instinctively I started to reach for him, but before I could move, he wrapped his huge arms around Moses, crushing the boy to him. And for once, I didn’t feel even the slightest twinge of resentment.
Moses whispered something, but it was garbled.
“What?” Connor pulled back but only slightly.
“I’m sorry.” Moses kept his gaze on the floor, but his cheeks were streaked with tears too. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say anything. I just… like a coward… and all of you….” His words were lost as Connor pulled him into another suffocating embrace.
“None of that. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Not a thing. This is how a family works.” Connor’s bloodshot gaze found mine. “We’re family. Nothing comes between us. Nothing.”
Eight
Connor
Mom tried to get us to stay the night, to sleep in Gilbert’s and my old room. It was tempting, to be surrounded in the safest place I knew. But at the same time, I was afraid if we stayed, I’d somehow make it more about me than about Moses. It was too familiar. Though it was my brother and not my parents who’d showed up, I couldn’t help but feel like I nearly lost it all once again. But that feeling was clarification enough. Moses had been the one in danger of losing everything, not me. Although, I supposed I was in danger of losing Moses. Considering I hadn’t even known he existed a year before, the thought of him being gone suddenly was one of the worst feelings I’d ever had.
We didn’t speak much on the way home, maybe not at all, everything was still a blur. My breathing became a touch more normal as we entered my apartment above Lavender Ink and I flipped the deadbolt. Moses stood in the middle of the living room, looking dazed and lost, and so much younger than Dillon, despite his height. I had no idea what to do—we should’ve stayed at my parents’.
Micah would know. Probably make Moses some hot chocolate or something, sit on the couch and get him to open up, to talk. I didn’t know how to do that, and I didn’t have any hot chocolate. “Movie?”
Moses blinked several times, met my gaze for a heartbeat, then nodded.
I nearly asked him which movie he wanted, but I knew he didn’t care. And I realized I already knew the right one. It was our go-to—X2. Though it had been made before Moses had even been born, it was his favorite of the series, mine as well.
We sat there and watched, about a foot of space between us on the couch, each of us wrapping our arms around the pillows in our laps. The movie did its magic. X-Men always did, the plot lines with the struggle of mutants resonating so well with people like Moses and me even after all these years. The ones who were different, the outcasts. It didn’t matter if you called us black sheep or pygmy goats. We weren’t like the rest of the world. And though I hadn’t forgotten that fact, my nearly two decades in Lavender Shores had lulled me into some sort of illusion of safety. All the while, the world had continued outside of the town borders. A young boy had been born, so much like myself, and had lived an alternate version of my own story.
We arrived at the part of the movie where the mansion is under attack and the mutant students at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning use their powers to defend their home, and fail. The section hit a little too close to home, maybe I’d picked the wrong film to watch. I dared to glance at Moses. Sure enough, he was rigid, his eyes glued to the screen, his fists clenched.
Maybe he felt my gaze on him; he looked at me. “What if I have to go back?”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes. I do. There was never any danger of that. None of us would’ve let that happen. Not ever. I’m your legal guardian now. There’s nothing anyone can do.” I knew the comment about God’s law had gotten to him. Remembered how that concept seemed to be bigger than everything else.
Moses wiped his cheeks quickly and gripped the pillow again. “I shouldn’t have stayed behind you. I should�
�ve faced him. He was right. I am a coward. I am a faggot.”
That word. I couldn’t remember a time without that word. Long before I’d come out to my birth family, there were always rants about faggots and other vile people in my household. “I’m one too, you know. You’re not alone.”
He gave his head a sharp shake. “You’re not a coward.”
“No, I’m not. And neither are you.” I snagged the remote off the arm of the sofa and started to turn off the movie, then thought better of it, instead turning the volume down so it was just loud enough to keep the room from being silent. “But I am gay. And I’m what the Clark family calls a faggot.”
Moses surprised me with a little laugh, and though an odd sort of smile crossed his lips, there was no humor in his eyes. “I’ve been scared of you my entire life.”
I flinched. I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to react negatively no matter what Moses said, but I hadn’t expected that. “You what?”
“I used to hate you. You were everything evil in the world. You were the one who had tried to destroy my family.”
I’d tried to talk about the Clarks with Moses after he moved in, but he’d shut me down. I wasn’t sure what to say to keep him talking. So I just went with it. “Moses, buddy, I didn’t even know you existed. When I moved in with the Bryants, your sister Sarah was two years old and your mom was pregnant with—” I took a second to remember the name of my other nephew I’d never met. “—Jacob. I didn’t know you were ever born, didn’t know about your cousins either. I promise I never wanted to hurt your family. I just wanted to stay away.”
Though Moses hadn’t talked much about his home life, I’d learned enough to know that my sister Susan had two children as well, both younger than Moses, but not by much. Somehow I’d managed to never consider that any nephews or nieces I might have could be in the same situation, that they might be gay. I’d mentioned that guilt to Dad shortly after Moses had arrived, wondering how I could’ve accepted so much love from them and never thought about the possibility of the hell continuing for other kids. He reminded me I’d been thirteen and that as I grew, life just became normal. The Clarks were little more than bad dreams and old scars. True enough, but the proof of my failure sat so near to me, hurting.
The Hideaway (Lavender Shores Book 5) Page 8
