The Growing Season

by Diana Copland

  “Hey,” he greeted breathlessly.

  Sam tried for a smile, but failed. “Hey.”

  They stared at each other. “Aren’t you cold? Where is your jacket?”

  Sam looked down, as if surprised to find he wasn’t wearing one. “I guess I must have forgotten.”

  He looked so genuinely lost that Danny opened the door wider. “Come in here.”

  Danny caught his arm, and Sam allowed himself to be pulled into the house and stood meekly as Danny closed the door behind them. He took Sam’s hand and led him into the lounge. Sam shuffled, moving like a sleepwalker.

  “Everything all right?”

  Danny looked up. Devon was standing on the landing, Will and Cal at his shoulder. Devon was still wearing jeans and a dark sweater, but Cal and Will were both dressed for bed.

  “We heard the doorbell.” Cal studied Sam’s drawn face. “How’re you doing, Sam?”

  Sam cleared his throat, frowning. It was almost as if he was having trouble understanding the question. Danny slid his hand across his back, and felt the chill clinging to his shirt.

  “I’m okay,” Sam finally managed.

  “I’m so sorry about your mom.” Will’s eyes were sad. “She was a nice lady.”

  Sam nodded and Danny heard him swallow. “Yeah, she really was.”

  There was an uneasy silence. What exactly did you say to a man who had just watched his mother die? Danny stepped closer and slipped his arm around Sam’s waist, holding him against his side. “Have you had anything to eat?”

  Sam frowned. “Um...” He sighed. “Yeah. There’s so much food at the house you can’t believe it.” He smiled weakly. “Every woman from their church made a casserole.”

  “But did you eat any of it?” Danny persisted.

  Sam looked into his eyes. “I honestly don’t remember.”

  “Come on.” Danny urged him toward the kitchen.

  “Dan—”

  He paused. Devon had come down a few steps.

  “You got this?” Devon’s voice was soft, but his expression spoke volumes. If Danny needed them, Devon and Cal and even Will would come downstairs and sit with them, be with them.

  Surprising gratitude filled Danny even as he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

  “Okay. Night.” Devon went back upstairs, turning toward his room, and Cal and Will went the other way to theirs. As he took Sam into the kitchen, Danny heard doors closing upstairs.

  He flipped on the overhead lights and pointed at one of the stools. “Sit.”

  Sam didn’t even argue. He dropped onto the stool and put his elbows on the surface of the butcher block, running his hands over his face and up into his hair.

  Danny opened the refrigerator. “Do you like turkey sandwiches?”

  Sam nodded.

  Danny grabbed a package of turkey. “Mayo, mustard?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Cheese?”

  “Yeah.”

  As he moved around the kitchen, Danny surreptitiously watched Sam. His usually lively eyes looked flat and tired, and there were dark circles beneath them. Lines of pain and fatigue bracketed his mouth, and he needed a shave. He looked ragged and lost, and Danny’s heart ached for him.

  He made the sandwich, cut it in half and set it in front of Sam. “What do you want to drink? Beer? Water? Soda?”

  “Water would be fine.”

  Danny filled a glass with ice and water, and grabbed a bottle of Yoo-hoo from the refrigerator. He set the glass in front of Sam before dropping onto a stool at his side.

  Without looking at him, Sam reached over and curled his hand around Danny’s wrist. When he spoke, his voice was very soft. “Thank you, Danny. When I left the house, I wasn’t even sure where I was going. I just knew I needed to get out. I appreciate you letting me barge in.”

  Danny laid his hand over Sam’s. “You didn’t barge in, you were invited.” He caressed Sam’s hand with his thumb. “And you’re always welcome.”

  Sam gave Danny a small, tired smile, and then his eyes fell on the bottle in Danny’s hand. For the first time since he arrived, Danny saw life in them.

  “My mom used to get Yoo-hoo when I was a kid. I loved it.”

  “You want one?

  Sam’s eyes lifted, brightening. “Yeah.”

  “Excellent.”

  Danny hopped up and got another bottle. He popped the top and handed it to Sam. He took a drink, Adam’s apple bobbing in his long, tanned throat, and he licked his lips with a soft, contented sound.

  “Good, yeah?” Danny smiled.

  “Tastes like my childhood.” Sam looked at the bottle, his expression soft. “Just as sugary and teeth rotting as I remember.”

  “Hey.” Danny nudged him with his elbow.

  “It’s good.” Sam’s thumb moved over the blue and yellow label. “She used to buy it for special occasions. Like, if I got a good report card, or made the Little League baseball team.” The corner of his mouth pulled up. “Of course everyone made the Little League team, but she still made it special. Christ.” He closed his eyes but not before Danny saw the damp sheen. He reached over to run his hand up Sam’s arm.

  “Come on. You need to eat. She wouldn’t want you going hungry.”

  Sam gave a pained laugh. “That’s for sure. Mom’s cure for all ills was brownies.”

  “Audrey’s was chocolate chip cookies.”

  They shared a look. Sam’s grief was fresh, but Danny had been there. In many ways, he still was.

  Sam picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite. They sat in companionable silence as he ate. Once he was done, Danny took the plate to the sink, pulled a package of sandwich cookies out of a cupboard and placed them on the block between them. He took a cookie, keeping his voice as casual as he could.

  “Did you get everything taken care of?”

  Sam’s eyes were hooded. “Yeah.”

  “Did they go with you? Your sisters? Your dad?”

  “My sisters did. Dana knew which dress to take, and Leslie handled the flowers. I was mostly there to write the check.”

  Danny was surprised. “You’re paying for the funeral?”

  Sam nodded. “It’s not common knowledge, but my dad is in debt up to his eyebrows. A lot of it’s medical expenses, but some of it was just bad investments. Mom always handled the money, but she’s been too sick for the last year.”

  Danny took a thoughtful bite of his cookie. “Nice of you.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  Danny nudged the package of cookies toward Sam, but he shook his head. Danny closed it, then offered his hand. “Come on.”

  He led Sam into the lounge, turning off most of the lights as he went. The softer lighting seemed more conducive to quiet conversation. Sam sat on the couch, then sighed and let his head fall back. “Christ, I’m tired.”

  “When did you sleep last?” Danny dropped down beside him.

  “I’m not sure, honestly. She’s had several bad nights in a row, and I stayed with her so my sisters could go home to their kids.”

  “Where was your dad?” Danny pulled his leg up onto the cushion, wrapping his arm around his knee.

  Sam looked at the ceiling. “You know, I’m pissed at my dad about a lot of stuff. We have—history.” Irony twisted his mouth. “But I don’t blame him for this. For whatever else he’s done, he loved her, and watching her suffer was killing him. It was pretty awful.” He closed his eyes. “I wouldn’t wish it on anybody, and my mom sure as hell didn’t deserve it.”

  Danny reached over and took Sam’s hand. “They weren’t able to help her? I mean, with medicine and stuff?”

  “Oh, they did. But the morphine made her feel spacey, so she wouldn’t take the full dose. She said she didn’t want to die without being able to recognize us.” He released a shuddering sigh. “She did pretty good, right up until last night.” He rubbed his face with his free hand. “God, it feels like days ago, not hours.”

  “I think time sl
ows down when we’re doing something we hate.” Danny was thinking of his lost six months.

  Sam nodded. “I was glad I came home, glad I could have the time with her. But watching her go...” He looked so broken Danny wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him. He settled for holding his hand.

  “I’m sorry those are your final memories of her,” he whispered. Sam lifted Danny’s hand to his chest, pressing it there. He doubted Sam was even fully aware he’d done it.

  “I’m sorry your mom is gone, too.”

  “Yeah, it kinda sucks.”

  Sam looked at him. “I remember your mom being the most elegant woman.”

  “She was that. And the kindest and gentlest one, too. She loved all of us, unconditionally. And I was a complete and total shit, you know?”

  “You?” Sam tried for a smile. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, I was. I broke all the rules, and then ran off when I was too young and stupid to understand the consequences. And she still left me part of the house, because she said I had experiences that would help me understand the kids who ended up here.” His lips twisted. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “I am.” He looked into Danny’s eyes. “I’m sure that’s exactly what it takes to understand some of those kids.” He ran his thumb over the back of Danny’s hand. “I used to wish I could live here when I was a kid.”

  “You did?”

  Sam nodded. “It seemed like a magic place, somewhere kids like me could be just who they were without anyone judging them. We’ve all got our stories about what it was like at home. I don’t know many guys whose families welcomed their coming out with open arms.”

  Danny snorted. “Mine sure as hell didn’t.”

  “Mine, either. Dad never got it, still doesn’t. He thinks it’s a ‘phase.’ I’m twenty-eight fucking years old, and he thinks it’s a phase. It’s why I left tonight. I’ve been living out of the house for ten years, and yet when I’m back there, I’m Sammy, his perpetually confused son. At least he’s not confrontational about it. My Aunt Edie, however...”

  “Was she the woman in the green polyester pant suit?”

  “That’s her.” Sam’s gaze flattened. “With a hairstyle that went out in 1969 and clothes she bought at the local hub of polyester pantsuits. She’s my dad’s younger sister. And she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t really hate you?” Danny laced his fingers through Sam’s.

  “Oh, she really does. She’s sure my homosexuality is at the heart of my dad’s financial woes and my mother’s cancer. I’ve brought a plague onto their house.”

  Danny’s grip on Sam’s hand tightened. “She said that to you?”

  “Not recently.” Sam closed his eyes. “But, yeah.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit.” Danny huffed. “God, I hate people like that. Sanctimonious and self-righteous.”

  “That’s her all right.” He turned his head and gave Danny a wry look. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’s got a white sheet in the attic.”

  “Lovely. She did give me kind of an odd look this afternoon.”

  “Aunt Edie?” Danny nodded. “Oh, she noticed you, all right. Even with everything going on, she managed to ask if you were my boyfriend.”

  Danny’s heart skipped its rhythm, and then settled, beating harder. “What did you tell her?”

  “That it wasn’t any of her goddamned business. She’s caused enough trouble in my life. She doesn’t get to cause more.”

  “You know, I wondered about something your dad said.”

  Sam looked pained. “You mean his charming comment about seeing something that might have caught my attention?”

  “I wasn’t offended. Just curious.”

  “I was offended enough for both of us.” Sam blew out a breath. “When I was twenty-three, my parents decided to surprise me and drop in on me in Seattle. I hadn’t told them, but I had a boyfriend. His name was Josh. He was nineteen but looked younger, and they arrived while we were...well.” Danny felt an unreasonable jolt of jealousy he wasn’t entitled to. “We managed to throw on some clothes before I opened the door, but it was pretty obvious what had been going on. I tried to get Josh to leave before they came in, but he refused to sneak out the back door. Mom was gracious, but then she always was.” Sam stared hard at the muted television. “Dad asked me when I had started molesting little boys.”

  “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yep. Mom was mortified and Josh was furious, and it was a mess. But Dad’s been digging at me about it ever since.”

  “So—” Danny ran his thumb over Sam’s knuckles, “—what happened to Josh?”

  “He didn’t last much after that. I know my dad is an ass, but I didn’t need to hear it daily.”

  “Do I look like him?”

  Sam glanced at him. “Who, Josh?” Danny nodded. “No. But you look young. And Dad is pretty sure that’s my type.” He let his head fall back again. “He might be right. I didn’t think I had a type, but...”

  “You’re just a twink magnet.” Danny smirked.

  Sam’s lips twitched. “I suppose. I do seem to like men who are...I don’t know...”

  “Too pretty to be boys?”

  Sam’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. “What? No! Is that what you think?”

  “That I’m pretty? Well, just about everyone I’ve known for the whole of my life has told me so. ‘Are you sure you’re a boy? You’re so pretty! You look just like your mother.’” He hated how bitter he sounded—it made him come across as immature.

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Look like your mother?”

  Now it was Danny’s turn to avert his eyes. “Yeah, I guess I do, although I haven’t seen her since I was a baby. She’s a fashion model, so she’s probably taller than I am, but she married my dad after knowing him all of three days. They met in Vegas. Motherhood was not something she’d counted on, so she split.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sam murmured.

  “Better she split than hang around and fuck me up even more than I am. I honestly don’t remember her, and I had Audrey. But I guess I’ve got Tonya’s face. And even I can see it’s too pretty to be considered masculine.”

  Sam turned, lifting his hand to run his knuckles down Danny’s cheek. “I do think you’re beautiful.” His voice was rough. “But I never for one moment found you feminine. If I wanted feminine, I’d date women. A man can be both beautiful and masculine.”

  Danny chuckled. “I think that may be the very first time anyone has said I was masculine.”

  “Then you’ve been talking to the wrong people.”

  The comment warmed him clear through.

  The grandfather clock in the entry hall chimed, and Danny found himself counting the tones as they echoed through the room. Apparently Sam was doing the same.

  “It’s midnight. I guess I should go back.” He closed his eyes with a sigh that moved through his entire body. “But, God, I don’t want to. My sisters aren’t there, and my aunt is entrenched with her bunch.” He let his hand drop heavily to his thigh. “Mom was the only reason I came home. Now that she’s gone, all I can hear is the silence where she used to be.”

  “So, don’t go back. Stay here.” Danny watched the reaction move over Sam’s face. Temptation, and wariness. “Just to sleep, Sam. You can have my bed. There’s a couch in the lounge I can crash on.”

  “I won’t take your bed,” Sam protested.

  “Why not? I sleep on the couch more than I do the bed, anyway.” It wasn’t a lie.

  “What about your brothers?”

  “What about them?”

  “Aren’t they going to find it...weird?”

  Danny voice gentled. “They know what you’ve been through today, and they know your dad. They aren’t going to find it weird. And I guarantee Cal and Devon are much easier to face across the breakfast table than your Aunt Edie. Even though Devon is definitely not a morning person.”

  Sam gave him
a wistful smile. “Are you?”

  “Not even remotely. You?”

  “Totally.”

  “Should at least be entertaining.” He stroked his fingers up Sam’s arm. “You look like you could use a good night’s sleep, Sam, that’s all. You just need to get used to the creaks and groans of this old place.”

  Sam hesitated, then offered his hand. “Thanks.”

  Danny took it, pulling him to his feet. “Anytime.” He lowered the lights, and the two of them moved quietly through the cavernous house.

  “Jesus, this place is huge, isn’t it?” Sam whispered as they reached the top of the stairs and walked by the open doors of the upstairs lounge.

  “Yeah. I don’t have any idea how many square feet, but it’s got eight bedrooms just on this floor.”

  “Holy shit.” Sam looked around wide-eyed as Danny led him along the winding route to his bedroom. When they arrived, Danny opened the door and let Sam enter first, then followed.

  “I chose this one because it was the farthest from the others,” Danny explained as Sam glanced around the small bedroom. “I didn’t know Cal or Devon when I first got here, and I didn’t want to be too close. I also didn’t understand what Mom was thinking, what I was supposed to do.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Well, I know them better...”

  “No.” Sam’s gaze was searching. “Do you know what you’re supposed to do?”

  “I’m supposed to restore the grounds, and then help make the house somewhere safe for kids who find themselves in the same situation I was.”

  “Then Audrey was right, wasn’t she? About leaving you a third of the house.”

  “I like to think so.” Danny gestured toward the bed. “So, there it is, such as it is.”

  Sam studied the bed mutely.

  Danny flicked on the closet light and pushed the door nearly closed to provide soft illumination for the room, then shut off the overhead. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and the springs moaned.

  “Do you want a shirt to sleep in?” Danny asked.

  “Do you have one that will fit me?”

  Danny rummaged blind through his top drawer and came up with a T-shirt he’d slept in for years. It was an XXL, and hung well past his hips, but he thought it would fit Sam better than anything of his. Danny tossed it to him.