by T. M. Smith
Taylor set his glass down on the table and reached out, pulling Valerie close and hugging her. Charles scooted in and wrapped his arms around both of them and they stayed huddled together for a few seconds. Frank had to strain to hear Taylor when he spoke to his foster parents. “I can never repay the kindness you’ve shown me, the home you gave me. I just love you both so much, I hope you know that.”
“We do, Taylor, we do,” Charles assured his son.
“I need to tell you guys something; I hope it doesn’t put a damper on the festivities. Caleb and I think it’s good news, and we want you to hear it from us, not see it on the news or read it in the paper.” Frank took another sip of his drink before setting it on the table and looking up, right into Taylor’s attentive gaze. “The Cold Case Squad is reopening the case, Taylor.”
Taylor stared at him for a few seconds, mouth agape, eyes full of so many emotions, Frank couldn’t figure out which feeling would win. “Really?”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, really. Caleb and I met the Sergeant that’s running the investigation.”
“This is good news, sweetie, right?” Valerie reached for Taylor’s hand, holding it in her much smaller ones.
“Wow…yes, sorry, Mom. That is good news, Frank. It’s just, well, very surreal. I guess I’d resigned myself to never knowing the truth.” Taylor looked a little shell-shocked.
“There’s no guarantee that they’ll find any new evidence.” Caleb spoke up. “But the Sergeant we met came across as a man that would exhaust every outlet in his search for the truth.”
Frank quickly agreed with his partner. The waiter arrived with two bottles of champagne, six flutes, an antipasto platter Charles had ordered, and Caleb took the opportunity to order a round of shots for everyone. When the shots arrived, Frank was a bit surprised that Valerie and Charles toasted with them. “It’s Patrón, dude. Everybody drinks Patrón,” Caleb said with grin.
After dinner they all headed back up to the suite for the night. The place was the size of a small apartment, and probably cost the same per night as a monthly lease. Spacious and inviting, the suite had an open layout for the kitchen, dining, and living area as well as a master bedroom, a double queen bedroom where Frank’s dad was sleeping along with Caleb and Justine, and an impressive balcony that looked out over the city. Frank took a seat on one of the couches between his dad and Caleb and tried his best to concentrate on the baseball game they were watching. Not on Taylor who was moving around the room, gathering his laptop, a bag of pretzels, and cold beer before heading outside to the balcony.
Justine’s words from the other night played on a repeat loop in his mind. Have you told Taylor how you feel? Don’t you think you should?
Not here, not tonight. This weekend was about his graduation; they’d have more than ample time to talk when they were at the Vineyard later in the week.
Later, when everyone was asleep, Frank lay on the couch in the dark living room, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if telling Taylor how he felt was worth risking everything they’d built over the past decade. And how did he feel, exactly? Of course he was attracted to Taylor. Who wouldn’t be? He was smart and funny, loyal to those he loved, and when he smiled his eyes lit up. The fact that Taylor had an amazing body didn’t go unnoticed either. Since the first time Frank started entertaining thoughts of a possible relationship with Taylor, he’d dreamed of what it would be like to kiss his full lips, have those arms with just the right amount of muscle wrapped around him while Taylor stared down at him like he was the only man on earth. But was it real, the attraction and the sexual tension that Frank thought they shared?
Above all, he didn’t want to lose Taylor. But standing back and saying nothing, was that really an option he should consider? Rolling onto his side, Frank closed his eyes and begged for sleep.
Chapter Twelve
Taylor
“Boarding pass, please.” The blonde standing at the gate to their plane smiled up at Taylor when he handed her his ticket to be scanned. “Thank you, sir, enjoy your flight.” Her smile widened when Taylor winked at her, reclaiming his boarding pass and entering the jetway that led to the plane. Valerie and Charles were right behind him, his father anxious to get onboard and into their seats in first class so he could get a cold beer, warm nuts, and a nap, in that order. Taylor planned to use the alone time with Valerie to talk with her about his true feelings for Frank.
Once they were on the plane, Charles took the empty aisle seat with Valerie and Taylor in the row beside him. The time waiting for the rest of the plane to board went by fairly quickly as Valerie shared all the gossip from back home with Taylor. He tried to focus on the conversation, managing a nod and occasional, yeah, when there was a pause, but his mind was twisting and turning with what he wanted to say to her. Mentally preparing yourself was one thing, and Taylor had spent the better part of the last year gearing up for this chat. Actually saying the words out loud to someone other than his own reflection in the mirror…well, that was a horse of a different color.
“Taylor?” He shook his head, turning to his mom. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Nodding more vigorously than necessary, Taylor had to open and close his mouth a couple of times before he could push out any words. “Yeah, fine. Why?” He cringed at the high pitch of his tone. Valerie smiled and shook her head, pointing over Taylor’s shoulder.
Turning, he saw the flight attendant looking at him expectantly, pen poised to take his order. “Oh, sorry, a gin and tonic please.”
“All right, we’ll have that out in a jiff.” She smiled and moved on to the couple sitting behind them.
Valerie laid her hand on his knee, patting gently. “Talk to me, Taylor; tell me what’s got you so worked up.”
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, turning and giving the woman that had been his saving grace a sheepish grin. “Well, I was hoping we could talk.”
“Of course darling, about what?” she responded, squeezing his hand in hers.
“Frank.”
Tilting her perfectly coifed head to one side, she studied Taylor for a long moment. Her silence and lack of telling facial expressions or tense body language confused him, made Taylor even more nervous. He was beginning to think she wasn’t going to speak at all when one corner of her mouth lifted, a knowing gleam dancing in her cornflower-blue eyes. “I was wondering how long it was going to be before you and I had this conversation, how old you’d be. Hell, for a while there I thought you might actually act on your feelings before you gave yourself time to really think on them.”
He stared at her, openmouthed, slack-jawed, lost for words. “What…how…what?” His inability to string two words together amused his mother and she laughed, loudly, smacking him on the knee with her smaller hand. He attributed the fact that it stung to the slew of rings she wore on every finger but her thumb.
Valerie turned her body sideways and leaned against the back of her seat, smiling at him. “You and Frank always had a special bond. From the first day he brought you to our home, I could see how important you were to each other already. I think early on he was something like a big brother to you. He took you to baseball and football games, helped you build things; he and his family became an extension of our family. But most importantly I think, for you at least, was that he never treated you like a kid. Even if he did continually refer to you as such, he always looked at you, talked to you, and interacted with you like one would a friend or peer.”
The way his mom spoke confidently and without malice, coupled with the softness of her features, calmed Taylor. He’d known deep down that everything would be okay, but until just then, some part of him had still worried about spilling his secret. Well, not so much a secret apparently. “When did you figure out that my feelings for him were changing, growing into something…stronger?”
The stewardess arrived with their drinks and a plate of cheese, crackers, and fruits his mom had likely ordered. Valerie pulled out her tray so the stewardess could set t
he plate down, then took the offered mimosa before thanking the lady that then handed Taylor a gin and tonic. “I hope Seagram’s Gin is okay, I completely forgot to ask when I took your order.” She flashed a thousand-watt smile showing her perfectly shaped white teeth.
“Perfect, thanks…” He looked at her name tag. “…Miley.” Taylor nodded, taking a sip and sighing; it was delicious.
“If you’ll just bring another round next time you pass, dear. I’m sure these glasses will be empty by then,” Valerie told Miley.
“Sure thing.” Miley nodded, bouncing back down the aisle. Taylor turned and couldn’t help but chuckle when his eyes landed on his dad. Charles had his chair pushed back, hands folded over his chest and his eyes closed, snoring softly. The tray in front of him held an empty beer can and two empty peanut wrappers.
“Please tell me he’s not snoring with his mouth hanging open.” There was a carefree tone to his mom’s words that made him happy.
“No, not at all.” Taylor turned back to face his mom just in time to see her roll her eyes. She wore a genuine smile though, the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth filled with years of blessings.
Polishing off the last of her drink, Valerie set her empty glass beside his on the tray in front of him. Her eyes were warm and kind, perhaps a bit misty when she looked at him again. “Do you remember the summer of your nineteenth birthday at Martha’s Vineyard?” she asked him.
Jesus, how could I ever forget that summer? Taylor’s mind played that summer, that night, over and over so many times, in different variations. In his dreams, a wet and naked Frank rose from the water, slowly making his way toward Taylor where he stood on the beach. The moonlight glistened behind him, causing a halo effect, Frank’s face shrouded in darkness until he was standing so close to Taylor, their breaths mingled. Dream Frank would lift his hand and cup Taylor’s cheek, his thumb trailing over Taylor’s bottom lip and then…
“Here you are, ma’am.” Miley was back, trudging through Taylor’s sexy daydream like a bull in a china shop.
He forced a smile when the perky blonde handed him a fresh gin and tonic, downing half of it before answering his mom. “Yes, I remember. But why do you remember?”
“That night in particular sticks out in my mind because it was the first time I saw the way you looked at Frank. There was something in your stare, the way your eyes followed him as he came out of the water.” Valerie seemed to be looking for the right words to say, her eyes straying from his while she thought. “It was the way one would look at a lover.”
Taylor’s face flushed and he looked away, taking a healthy gulp of his drink and collecting his thoughts. “I didn’t realize anyone else was on the beach that night,” he whispered.
She laughed softly, the sound making him think of a wind chime or tiny bell. “Charles and I aren’t as boring as you might think Taylor. We still have a very healthy sex life, and—”
Taylor cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Oh God, no, please, just stop right there,” he begged, making gagging sounds.
Valerie threw her head back and laughed so loud that the people in front of them turned to look back at them. “Sorry,” he mock-whispered, shrugging his shoulders before turning to glare at his mom who was now almost doubled over, peals of laughter escaping her tiny body along with a snort—a fucking snort.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the seat belt signs as we make our way into Dallas Love Field.” Miley’s sugary voice finally broke the haze of laughter his mom seemed to be trapped in.
She sat back in her seat, using the cocktail napkin to dab the corners of her eyes. “My dear, sweet boy, you have been such a joy in my life; always remember that. As far as your feelings for Frank, I’m of the opinion that life is far too short, and who better knows that than you Taylor? If you want to spend yours with Frank, then do what you have to do to make that happen. My only concern is that Frank may not agree. He could very well push you away, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Even if it is just hurt feelings.”
Taylor nodded. Her concern was valid. Another stewardess came through with a bag collecting trash and their conversation was stilted, for the moment. He was just happy that he now knew for certain that his parents wouldn’t begrudge him a life with Frank. He only had to wait two more days to see Frank again when they all met in Martha’s Vineyard. The future Taylor had dreamed about, meticulously planned in his mind, was so close he could feel it.
Chapter Thirteen
Frank
Dropping his backpack into the chair and kicking his bedroom door closed, Frank fell face first onto the bed. The past seventy hours had been busy, to say the least. He’d driven to Austin for Taylor’s graduation, partying like a rock star with his best friend Caleb and the graduate, when not a damn one of them were…rock stars. Well, Caleb may well think he was, in his own twisted mind, but they most definitely were not. His body was reminding him of that fact at the moment. Then he had to drive back to Dallas to pick up a shift for an officer that had recently become a father, and all that before catching his flight at the ass crack of dawn that morning from Dallas to Martha’s Vineyard.
There was a soft knock at the door before his dad peeked into the room. “Don’t be going to sleep now, or you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”
“Whatever,” Frank muttered, waving his dad away and grabbing a pillow, pulling it over his head to block the sun that was glaring through the open window. “Five minutes,” he pleaded, lifting the pillow just enough to look at his watch; he noted the time was 5:20 p.m. He could take a quick power nap before dinner. Hubert would surely be back up the stairs banging on his door if Frank didn’t make it down soon, so he wasn’t worried about sleeping too long.
When he woke some time later, his bladder was screaming. Half-awake, feet moving more by memory than sight, Frank stumbled into the bathroom to take a piss. Slowly, the fog of sleep lifted and he noticed how dark it was in the bathroom. Lifting the shade to peer outside, he saw the haze of twilight. “Fuck.” Glancing at his watch, he was taken aback to see it was two in the morning. A few more curses as he washed his hands before heading downstairs.
The path from his room to the kitchen was bathed in soft light, compliments of the Bath & Body Works Wallflowers that were plugged into sockets in almost every room in the house. The Stones had purchased several of the quirky scent-filled night-lights the first summer they’d visited the cottage with Taylor. The poor kid often had nightmares and Valerie had discovered that night-lights worked well at keeping the demons at bay. So, the following day Valerie and Justine left the men to sail and fish while they drove into Boston to do some shopping, returning with a bag full of the multi-functional gadgets that plugged into the wall, emitted lovely aromas, and cast enough light in the room to keep the nightmares away for the most part. Each one was a different design as well: bedazzled multicolored fish, a shiny starfish, and other random beachy things. There was one with an anchor on the face, the background blue and white stripes, a nautical theme. To this day that particular Wallflower was plugged into the socket in the hallway, just outside his bedroom.
Knowing there was no way he could go back to bed now, not if wanted to keep his days and nights straight, he set about starting a pot of coffee. While he waited, Frank dug a tablet and pen out of the drawer beside the fridge and started a grocery list. His dad would have stocked the pantry with dry goods and a quick glance in the freezer showed a variety of meat and seafood, but Frank loved to visit the local shops for fresh produce. An obligatory trip to the liquor store was in order as well. Caleb and Justine wouldn’t be down until the following week, but it was good to be prepared.
Coffee in hand, Frank went out the back door, softly closing it behind him so he wouldn’t wake his father, and headed down to the beach. As a boy, Frank would sometimes get up in the middle of the night and quietly leave the house, finding himself down on the beach, walking the path where the water met the sand. Burying his toes in the wet earth
beneath him, Frank remembered the last time he was on the beach with his mother, mere days before the cancer took her from them. He flapped his arms in the breeze and cawed like a bird while his mom leaned back in the lawn chair Frank had dragged down from the house for her to sit in. She smiled and they both laughed and laughed.
The day of the funeral, Frank had held tight to the white rose the Reverend had given him. “You can put it on your momma’s casket so she’ll have a little piece of you with her, always.” The elderly man in the long black robe with a rosary and cross hanging around his neck told him, but when the time came, Frank couldn’t let go of the rose. Instead, he ran all the way back to the beach behind their cottage, not stopping until he was in the water up to his knees. Ears ringing, heart pounding, he held on to the rose in spite of the sharp bite of pain he felt in his fingers from the thorns and cried. He cried until he thought his lungs would burst and the water might rise up and drown him. His dad joined him there a few minutes later, offering Frank a sad smile, a rose in his hand as well. They both eventually let the ocean take the flowers along with some of the pain.
Frank closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds of Martha’s Vineyard. Waves crashing, birdsong, and if he strained he swore he could hear his mother’s laugh in the distance. Blinking, he held his hand out in front of him, opening and closing his fist, fingers wiggling. There were times when he swore he could still feel the sharp bite in his flesh from the thorns and it comforted him.
The day after his mother’s funeral, he and his dad drove to one of the small shops in town where Hubert purchased a rosebush, the tiny, white buds so much smaller than the ones they’d tossed into the water the night before. Hubert planted the bush at the end of the lowlying brick wall that ran the length of the cottage and by the end of the summer, the buds were proudly blooming. Over the years the roses flourished as did the bushes and other flowers Frank and Hubert planted in “Meredith’s Garden,” aptly named after his mother.