by Rowan Nash
The quick change of subject set off warnings in his head, but Reeve had pretty accurate gaydar. In his mind, there were two likely possibilities: taken or protective of his sexual orientation. He didn’t participate in cheating—well, at least not knowingly—and he wouldn’t be relegated to secret bunk-buddy. Reeve didn’t judge. He just couldn’t deal with sneaking around and pretending to be a “friend” when that wasn’t the truth. Deceit hurt people, even the one protecting their heart.
Reeve recited his list of people to buy for. Caleb cocked his head when he said, “Molly.”
“I know what Mrs. Rousch would love to have.” Caleb held up a set of professional-quality oven mitts. “She stops and examines them every time she’s in here and then mutters ‘Not this time’ and places them back on the table.”
He sipped the cider and the tingle of warmth radiated through Reeve. “That’s one down, what feels like a hundred to go.”
“Don’t worry. Finding the right gift for someone is my specialty,” he said, brushing past Reeve on the way the counter.
Wonder what’s on your wish list, Caleb…
3
CALEB
He’d only come down from his apartment above the shop to find a host gift for the Rousches and several gifts for the Santa party. Caleb could’ve pretended not to hear the rapping on the door because the music was turned up to a decibel that would have made his mother cringe, but that wasn’t him.
He assisted Reeve with his short list, attempting to ask questions about the people without digging too deep as his shoulders raised and lowered uneasily at some inquiries. Every gift would have been one Caleb would love to receive, which was the credit to his shop. If he wouldn’t want it given to him or he wouldn’t give it, he didn’t carry it. He’d turned away plenty of lovely items to have the quality, unique gifts that couldn’t be found in a 50-mile radius. People came back to his store and that’s why Caleb tried to get to know most of them past name-only.
But Reeve made him feel like a nervous teenager at the blackboard in class, just trying to avoid an awkward tent-in-the-pants moment. He wiped his hands on his jeans for the hundredth time when Reeve turned his back to smell a perfume that Caleb suggested for his sister, someone Reeve described as a diamond on the outside and a sugar cookie on the inside. Caleb glanced down and admired a perfect backside, which did nothing to prevent that high school blackboard-event from beginning again.
After Reeve selected his gifts, he lounged on a high-back stool off to the side of the checkout desk and downed another mug of cider while he watched Caleb wrap the gifts. What usually would have taken Caleb less than twenty minutes took almost an hour with those copper and cognac-blended eyes constantly tracking him like James Bond at a baccarat table, eyeing up his mark. Instead of asking for a third cup of cider, Reeve helped himself, reminding Caleb so much of Mrs. Rousch, especially with his small talk that veered in no particular direction.
“So are you originally from Cold Spring, Caleb?”
“Beacon.” His hometown was only about a fifteen-minute drive away, close enough that if he’d had something to go home to Caleb could, but that never happened.
“I have a friend from there, Devon Welsh. You know him?”
Caleb knew Devon. Very well. He swallowed. “Yeah, we went to high school together. Used to hang out back then.”
“He was my college boyfriend,” Reeve said casually, before taking a sip of the cider.
That statement told Caleb three things. Obviously, Reeve was gay. Second, Reeve had excellent taste in men, because Devon was in the top 1% of men in appearance, personality, and confidence. And lastly, Reeve could be looking by the “was.”
But am I looking?
“Haven’t heard from Devon in a while.” Caleb wrapped a gift for the Santa party that was happening at the Rousches’ tonight. A doll for a special five-year-old girl, Hannah. Born with Down syndrome, she touched every heart she met with her smile and a way of connecting people.
“Got a job in Germany as a foreign correspondent for a travel magazine and he’s exploring Europe writing a book on budget hostels.”
Caleb chuckled. “Same old Devon.” Devon had traveled the U.S. for a year after they graduated high school and wrote a book called Devon Does Da USA on a Dolla.
Huge flop. Imagine that.
“You see that awful book from his States travels?” Reeve asked.
Caleb pointed across the room to the book section. It was the one thing he’d probably never want in his house. The book wasn’t exactly family-friendly and he usually kept it semi-hidden with a potted plant. If the location had nudity, sex, or weed associated, Devon had visited it, cataloging the best of the best in strip joints, head shops, and adult stores across the country. Devon was gorgeous and more than original, he could never be copied.
“His mother talked me into taking in a few copies. Ruth is hard to say no to.” Caleb tied an extra big bow on Mrs. Rousch’s gift.
“Don’t have to tell me. I stayed with Devon just for the pie that Ruth makes every Sunday.”
The skin between Caleb’s eyes tugged, furrowing into a deep line as he stared at Reeve.
No one should take advantage of Ruth like that.
Reeve laughed at his reaction. “I’m kidding, Caleb. Devon and I went our separate ways amicably two years ago. He left for a two-month visit to Amsterdam, right after I started an internship at my father’s law firm while I attended law school at NYU. We had different objectives in life. I talk to Devon about once a month and still see the Welsh family from time to time when they’re down in the City or I make the extra jaunt north.”
“Love the City. It’s almost a place to both find and lose yourself.” Caleb rambled the words and immediately felt uncomfortable as Reeve stared intently.
“I feel the same way.”
The way he said those words made Caleb glance up from his wrapping. There was something sad about this man that he understood. Reeve was as lost as Caleb was.
Reeve stared at a sign behind the checkout that read “No shirt, no shoes, no questions why,” and smiled.
After bagging the gifts in silence, Caleb met him at the side of the desk. “All finished.”
Reeve slipped off the stool, stepped within an inch of Caleb’s body, and closed his hands over Caleb’s on the bags’ handles. “I was wondering if you might want to come to a party with me tonight as a thank-you for all your help. Free catered drinks and food.”
Caleb tensed and mumbled, “Mrs. Rousch already invited me.” Tonight was semi-business, not pleasure, and he needed to remember that. Not that it hadn’t crossed his mind that Reeve could be all pleasure, but only if he could find his testicles and tell Reeve that he desired the genuineness and sincerity Reeve offered.
Reeve stepped back. “Well, at least I’ll still see you there and sorry if I presumed too much.”
He wanted to tell Reeve that he’d made the right assumption, but Caleb just hadn’t found himself. He found it easier to hide in plain sight as someone he wasn’t. But God willing, tonight he would change that. The right moment and the right way to tell people were all he needed to show himself and the community that he wasn’t going to hide anymore.
Reeve held up the bags. “Thanks for your help, Caleb. I hope you get everything you wish for this Christmas. See you tonight.”
As he passed by, Reeve’s cologne of black spruce and nutmeg danced through Caleb’s nose. His hair shined like polished obsidian up close and Caleb wanted to grab his baby blue sweater and spin him back to him for a long kiss, but… then he was gone.
The same doorbell that sounded a welcoming jingle yesterday rang a tinny sound that echoed loneliness through the empty room.
Wishes rarely came true, so why even ask?
4
REEVE
Reeve backed out slowly from the parking space. The road conditions weren’t the only thing causing him to leave with caution. He should’ve asked different questions, enquired a little
deeper, and made more effort to try to get Caleb to escape from whatever prison held his heart and his courage.
Reeve knew he was fortunate. His sexual orientation had nothing to do with his family’s love. He’d seen it before; the fearful storeowner with emerald eyes didn’t have the same experience. His truth was safe with Reeve, and he deserved respect either way.
He’ll keep Molly company and she’ll have nothing to worry about in the expectations department.
Reeve entered the great room with two large bags of gifts.
“Well, apparently your trip to Caleb’s was successful?” Aunt Evie commented as she finished placing ornaments on one of eight trees in the house.
“I think there are still a few items left at the store, but not many.”
“What did you think of him?”
He was as unique as his store and I’d love to get to know him better.
“Nice guy. Molly will like him, but not sure she’s the kind he really goes for.”
“Now you sound like Molly, all doom and gloom. It’s the holidays, have some hope. Caleb is a wonderful young man and any woman would be lucky to have him on her arm.”
Or any man.
He placed his gifts with the growing mountain of ones already under the 12-foot tree. Most of them weren’t even for their immediate family; they were for less fortunate kids in the community who would be at the party tonight.
Uncle Teddy would dress up as Santa and hand out the gifts. The pediatric surgeon had a big heart and usually knew what each child wanted by inquiring in person or asking siblings who came into the clinic, then texting it to Aunt Evie after appointments.
Their aunt and uncle had always believed that “you can’t take it with you, so use it to see someone’s smile while you’re here,” and since they couldn’t have kids of their own, they showered others. Reeve was still amassing his fortune to share, but he’d made sure to perform a few good deeds over the season, including visiting Devon’s parents and strategically hiding a few hundred-dollar bills. One tucked in the sugar bowl on the kitchen table. One under a stack of plates in the kitchen cabinet and a bill folded and bookmarking his favorite verse in Ruth’s cherished Bible, which she’d read probably a thousand times.
Reeve wasn’t religious, but John 15:13 held a place in his heart because she’d read it to him once. The piece of pumpkin pie he inhaled was more than enough gratitude. Devon’s parents enjoyed life simply but always had a bit less than they should have due to helping their son live out his dreams. To give them a little extra was Reeve’s way of saying thank you for accepting him and treating him as their own son, and hopefully, to keep Ruth in the pie-making business. They had to know it was him. He did it every year, but even if they didn’t, it still felt good.
The afternoon was spent helping Aunt Evie with finishing touches on food, most of which was catered, but she had her few signature dishes she insisted on preparing every year. Mexican Wedding Cookies were delicious, but a mess to make.
As they finished, Molly chucked a handful of powdered sugar at Reeve. Retaliation was not optional. Soon the kitchen was a blurry cloud of sugar. Hearing the raucous banter, Aunt Evie shuffled into the room, and two twenty-four-year-old adults were thoroughly admonished for their behavior. But Aunt Evie couldn’t hold her amusement in and then they’d made sure she had a snow-like dusting, too. After cleaning up the mess, Reeve excused himself to change his clothes.
The doorbell rang as he finished showering. He rubbed his hair with a towel and laughed, realizing the scent of sugar was still embedded in the strands.
The doorbell sounded several times before he dressed. Guests would bring gifts to add to the mountain for Dr. Santa, assigned certain genders and age groups by Aunt Evie. Some did it out of guilt, others did it from the goodness in their heart, but to Aunt Evie and Uncle Teddy the reason didn’t matter. That a child would get what they wanted that night was what mattered. Reeve didn’t quite understand their need to do this good deed, but he didn’t think he needed to.
Finally presentable, he stepped into the dining room and grabbed a bottle of craft beer from the overflowing selection.
Molly slipped in beside him and grabbed his arm. “He’s cute. Like really cute. Like I might end my drought in the bedroom tonight cute.” She ladled punch into a cup. “He’s on the other side of the table, the blond with the dimples that make my vajajay all tingly.”
“Sis, less talk about your lady parts. I’m your gay brother, not your chatty girlfriend.” The sight of Caleb made his cock dance in his pants to the “Jingle Bell Rock” that infused the room with holiday cheer. In his own way, he related to what his sister crudely insinuated.
“Hi, Reeve,” Caleb said while adding a piece of roast beef to his plate.
Molly’s eyes flashed between them, her mouth agape and eyes wide. “How do you two know each other?”
“Aunt Evie sent me to Caleb’s gift store to finish—”
“Start,” Caleb interrupted Reeve and chuckled as he added mashed potatoes to his plate.
“Right, start and finish my shopping.”
Molly tapped her etched glass with her fingernails in tempo to the music. “I hope you picked out something special for me, Caleb. Cause God knows my brother can’t pick out crap. Actually, I take that back. Crap he can pick out. It’s something heartfelt and real that he can’t seem to find.”
While adding gravy to his potatoes, Caleb asked, “What did he get you for your last birthday?”
“Let’s see?” Reeve’s sister set her plate down and seemed to be looking into the past in her mind when our birthdays were the same day and…
Crap!
“He got me… nothing,” she pouted.
Caleb tsked Reeve playfully, and his green eyes sparkled with amusement in the dimmed light.
“Oh, you don’t know the better part, Caleb. We’re twins. Not like he can forget his own birthday.”
Reeve shook his head at his sister. Not that he’d admit it, but technically, he had forgotten their birthday. Without their parents’ morning wake-up birthday call, he’d been in a little funk that day. It hadn’t started out right, so it couldn’t continue right. And that was how the world had been for the last year.
Just not quite right. Just something missing.
“Would you like to join me in the family room, Molly?” Caleb asked, continuing his commitment to Aunt Evie but making Reeve wish his name had been at the end of that sentence.
“I’ll be right in.” She stepped to the dessert bar and filled her plate. Reeve was positive that she was composed of 99% sugar.
Reeve turned to follow behind Caleb. “I’d be glad to keep you comp—”
“Reeve, there you are! I need to talk to you and it can’t wait.” Aunt Evie grabbed his arm, jostling his beer as she pulled him into the kitchen. He sucked the foam off the top before it could trickle down his hand.
“Stop drinking!” She grabbed the bottle and set it on the counter. “You have to be Santa.”
“What? Where’s Uncle Teddy?”
“There was an emergency at the hospital—appendix, I believe. So, you have to be Santa.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I think we both know I’m not Santa material. Maybe ask one of Uncle Teddy’s friends?”
“They’re all too stuck up to don the suit.” His aunt’s eyes welled with tears. “Reeve, it’s you or those kids don’t get a Christmas.”
The woman understood how to pluck at his heartstrings, and every note was perfectly in tune.
“Fine. Where’s this Santa suit?”
She filled him in on the details, and Reeve went to the master bedroom to change.
Me, as Santa, now that was a nightmare I hadn’t even considered. It definitely wasn’t on my wish list.
5
CALEB
Caleb found standing room at a high-top table in the corner of the cavernous family room. The room was bigger than his whole apartment, but he liked small spaces, easier t
o keep clean and he could see all the things that were his. Not that he had much, but each item he brought into his life was special to him.
Molly carried on conversation like her brother, a little all over the place, but with genuine interest.
Maybe a little too much interest.
“What do you think of all this, Caleb?” Molly asked as she sipped from her punch cup.
“Beautiful home, lovely hosts, and a cause I can get behind—it’s all good.”
Molly stopped with a cookie suspended in the air. “Oh… my God.”
Caleb spun to see what was causing her suspended animation. He’d never really been one to think Santa had any potential to be sexy, considering the distended belly, the tangle of facial hair, the rosy cheeks that screamed windburn, and the semi-deranged chuckle. In any other context, the public would be calling the man a pedophile and he’d be far away from children, but… this Santa was different.
Damn.
Molly shook her head. “Well, Mrs. Claus must be on a health kick cause it looks like Santa lost some substantial weight this year. Where is Uncle Teddy?” Molly’s brow furrowed.
Caleb could see her genuine concern. “Maybe a medical call?”
She nodded. “Probably. But the roads aren’t great tonight.” Molly dabbed at her eyes with her napkin.
“Molly?”
“I just need a minute. Sorry, Caleb.” Her legs weren’t long but they moved fast. She flashed past Santa.
After watching her jog into the kitchen, Reeve turned to Caleb with furrowed brows and mouthed, “She okay?”
He raised my shoulders and mouthed back, “I’ll go make sure.” Caleb smirked and added, “Santa.” His blood pressure rose as Reeve’s eyes raked him from head to toe.
Without breaking eye contact, Caleb walked to him. He leaned in and whispered in Santa’s ear, “Are you going to let people sit on your lap and tell you what’s on their wish list?”