Stay_Men of Hidden Creek

by Avery Ford

  Nothing would ever be the same as it had been before. He’d been at the prime of his life, and he’d crashed and burned. Dr. Shimota was right—he had to accept it, and he had to move on.

  He picked up the too-hot casserole and ate until there was nothing left.

  Catherine Byrnes, Dr. Shimota’s receptionist, looked up at Austin from her desk and offered him a polite smile. “Hello, Mr. Reeves. It’s nice to see you. What can I do for you today?”

  “Dr. Shimota mentioned that she might be able to squeeze me in for additional appointments,” Austin said. Half of him wanted to forget the idea, but overall, he was glad that he was seeing it through. No matter how much progress he was making, he still had a lot of negative emotions he needed to unpack. Sitting around and feeling sorry for himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

  “Let me check the calendar. It’ll be just a second.”

  Catherine turned her attention to the computer at her desk, leaving Austin time to look around the reception area. If had been a while since he’d stopped and truly looked. The office was small—it had places for ten chairs, only two of which were presently occupied—but it didn’t feel claustrophobic. A tall, leafy plant occupied the corner, and wide windows on the south-side wall let in cheerful light. The eggshell blue paint on the walls was recent, and the floor was kept spotless. Even the magazines on the long table that divided the chairs on one wall from the chairs on the other were tastefully arranged. Most of the time, when Austin waited here, he zoned out and stopped paying attention.

  He wondered if he took more time to appreciate the little things, he’d find less to be negative about. He’d been so stuck in his head since he’d come back to the US that he hadn’t really been thinking of anything other than himself.

  “It looks like there might be space for an appointment next week,” Catherine said. “It’s on a Thursday at three. Does that work for you?”

  “Nothing sooner?”

  “Not yet, but if that changes, I could give you a call.” She smiled. “If you live close enough that you could get here in about fifteen minutes on a moment’s notice, we could slot you into a cancelled appointment. I’m sure Dr. Shimota would be glad to see you.”

  “Fifteen minutes isn’t a problem. If anything comes up, could you let me know?”

  “Of course.” Catherine scribbled something on an appointment card and handed it to him. “In the meantime, I’ve penciled you in for the Thursday appointment, just in case nothing opens up. Does that sound fair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we’ll see you Thursday or earlier.”

  Austin tucked the card into his wallet and was about to leave when the door to the back opened and Dr. Shimota poked her head out. When she saw him, her expression brightened. She waved. “Hello, Austin. What’s brought you in today?”

  “I was seeing if I could make an appointment with you, like you said I might be able to,” Austin said. Dr. Shimota came out from behind the door and joined him at the reception desk. “Catherine and I just set something up.”

  “The Thursday at three?” Dr. Shimota asked.

  Austin nodded.

  “Sounds great. I look forward to seeing you.”

  Dr. Shimota smiled at him and went to leave, but before she could go, Austin held out a hand to stop her. “Before you go, I uh... well, I wanted to give this to you.” He held out the plastic bag he’d been carrying. At the bottom was a plastic container containing a portion of casserole. “I made it yesterday, and I had some extra, so I figured you might like some. I... want to say thank you for being so patient with me. I know it can’t be easy.”

  Dr. Shimota frowned. “Not everything in life is easy, Austin, but so many difficult things are worth the struggle. Thank you for such a thoughtful gift. I’m glad that you’re putting your energy into something. Have you always liked cooking?”

  She accepted the bag from him, and he was glad for it. He might not have been able to share his meal with Hale, but at least someone would enjoy it. “I guess. I didn’t really have a chance to do it when I was in the Navy, and when I wasn’t on duty Eleanor did most of the cooking. I’m... discovering it for the first time now that I’m alone.”

  “It’s a very healthy way to invest yourself,” she said kindly. “I’m proud of you, Austin. You’re doing a great job, and I really look forward to our conversation on Thursday.”

  Austin nodded. “Me too. Have a good day, Dr. Shimota.”

  “Likewise.” She offered him a little wave, then headed back through the door and disappeared into the office.

  Maybe, if he were to start again, he could do something with food. Rocket—the fifties themed diner in town—had pretty much monopolized the restaurant business, but there were other avenues he could explore. Baking, maybe. Or catering. As the ideas started to come in, Austin felt more sure of himself than ever.

  Times were tough now, but one day soon, he’d feel the same way about life that he had when he’d confronted Hale for snooping through Michael’s apartment. The spark would come back, the luster would return, and life would go on as close to normal as it could.

  A singular chance meeting had torn him down, but it had also given him hope. Without knowing it, Hale had saved him. He hoped one day, he might be able to return the favor.

  Chapter Six

  Hale

  Grind at eight.

  Hale glanced at the time on his phone. It was five minutes to eight, and he was seated at one of the tables at Grind, Hidden Creek’s coffee shop. People had been coming in and out to pick up their morning coffees on their way to work for close to an hour now, but so far, none of them had seemed particularly suspicious. Hale had no idea what the rest of Michael’s note had meant, but he had a feeling that he’d understand it if he saw whoever Michael was referring to enter the shop.

  Right now, it was the only lead he had.

  A sudden voice next to his ear made Hale jump. “You know, that’s your third coffee this morning. If the coffee I brewed wasn’t so damned good, I’d be inclined to say that you’re nervous about something. You keep sipping and looking around like you’re being hunted.”

  Hale turned his head to find Doris May, owner of Grind, standing at his side. She had one hand on her hip, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her lips pursed like she was onto him.

  “You scared me,” Hale said, hoping to dodge her question.

  “You’re in a coffee house, boy. What do you have to be afraid of?”

  Hale held back a sigh. Doris was a grump at the best of times, but her heart was always in the right place, and even if she was abrupt and abrasive, he knew that she was only looking out for him.

  Well, him or whatever tips might come her way. Nothing stood between Doris and her tips.

  “I’ve been waiting for someone, but I’m not sure that they’ll show up,” Hale admitted. He was vague on purpose. Until he could decipher what Michael’s note was about, he didn’t want to be too obvious about what he was doing. Inviting trouble was about the last thing he wanted to do.

  “Someone... unsavory?” Doris gestured vaguely at the mug on his table. “The way you’re downing coffee doesn’t lead me to believe that you’re waiting on a new beau.”

  Hale pushed his lips to the side and gave her sass right back to her. “I haven’t seen you entertaining any new beaus lately, either, Doris.”

  “At my age?” Doris scoffed. “Men aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, let me tell you. You’re young and inexperienced, but one day, you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Any man worth settling down with is already off the market, and the ones that are left aren’t even dependable enough to tie their own shoes, forget tying the knot.”

  Hale choked back a laugh. “Is that so?”

  “And don’t get me started on the women.” Doris wagged a finger at him in warning. “Bubbleheads, all of them. Give me a woman who can hold her own in business and get on without heaving sighs over the newest hunk that rolls through to
wn, or devoting her life to being a member of the PTA and maybe we’d have a deal. Maybe. And I’m talking maybe as in, it depends on if she can hold her own in the kitchen, because I’m sure as hell not coming home to cook dinner for some trophy wife night after night.”

  Hale bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. “You could still be a trophy wife, you know. I’ve seen the way Mr. Williamson looks at you when he comes in to get his coffee. He owns property in Victory Boulevard, you know. Real estate is a good business to get into. I’m pretty sure you’d never have to work a day in your life with him if you didn’t want to.”

  Doris gave him a plain look. “Then what? Go crazy from boredom? Adopt fifty cats? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to have children at my age.”

  “You can’t be much older than thirty, can you?”

  Doris narrowed her eyes. “You know how to play the game, don’t you, Hale? I’ll fold for now. You’re lucky that I like you so much, or I might insist on finding out what’s got you so riled, even though it’s clear you don’t want to tell me.”

  Hale didn’t hold back his grin anymore. “Or is it that you’ve got a customer waiting at the coffee bar?”

  Doris rolled her eyes and waved him off. She hurried back across the shop, ducked under the counter with the agility of a woman half her age, and took the waiting customer’s order.

  Hale glanced at his phone again. It was two minutes after eight. No one new had come in since Doris had come to visit him, and a quick look through the windows didn’t reveal anyone pulling into the parking lot. He’d been hoping that Michael’s note would have led him to a clue as to his whereabouts, but it looked like that wasn’t happening. Whatever had happened at eight at Grind wasn’t going on today. He’d have to put in some more thought and try again. There had to be something he was missing.

  A quarter. A nebulous “they.” Hale wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and tried to string it together, but he had no more luck connecting the dots at Grind than he had while at home.

  Whatever the meaning behind Michael’s note hadn’t been meant for the eyes of others—he’d have no reason to write it in code if it was something he wanted anyone to find—but Hale didn’t have a clue how to go about finding out what it meant.

  With three cups of coffee in his system and an itch not to make things messy by getting the police involved, he decided to give the “they” Michael had referenced another fifteen minutes before he left and started looking for his cousin the old-fashioned way—canvassing.

  It was too bad he hadn’t been interested in spy work for more than a summer. If he had, he might have had some idea how to see Michael’s clue through to the end.

  Fifteen minutes later, Hale left the coffee shop empty handed and cut across Moore Wood park. He jogged by the angry goose, who flapped out of his pond squawking and batting aggressively at the air, and arrived at Michael’s apartment building a little winded, but in one piece. He entered through the front door, cut down Michael’s hall, and came to a stop at the very last door.

  “It’s all in the hips,” Hale mumbled to himself as he shook the tension out of his body, starting in his shoulders, then working his way down in a full-body wiggle. He didn’t even remember where he’d heard that saying from, but it helped to loosen him up when he was feeling uptight about something. When he was done, he knocked on the door and waited.

  An elderly woman answered. She was wearing a thin nightgown and round glasses, and leaned heavily on a wood cane. “Hello?”

  “Hi,” Hale said. He flashed her as charming a smile as he could manage. “My name is Hale McMillan. I’m Michael McMillan’s cousin—the one from apartment 104, down the hall. I was wondering if you’d seen Michael around recently.”

  The woman squinted at him and adjusted her glasses. “Hal McMillan? I didn’t realize Michael had a brother.”

  “I’m his cousin, ma’am. Hale McMillan. I’ve lived here in Hidden Creek all my life.”

  “Male? I know that, dear. You may be pretty, but I’ve been around long enough that I know better. Some boys are just born pretty.”

  It took Hale a great deal of will not to rub his face in frustration. “Have you seen Michael lately?”

  “Michael? Did he come home to clean up the smell in his apartment yet? Boys are messy—that’s what I told my girls when they got to marrying age—but there’s really no excuse to have a house so messy that the whole hallway reeks. I haven’t been out lately to see if the smell is still there, but I told Jerry down in the office that it was starting to get bad and he promised me he’d look into it.”

  Hale opened his mouth to interject, then closed it again. She seemed happy rattling on about anything he didn’t ask her for, but it seemed like if he kept her talking long enough she’d get around to his question. He let her continue, gleaning whatever information he could from the message between the lines.

  “You know, it’s not the first time he’s been gone for a while since he moved in here. The boy has a wild spirit. If my girls were younger and single, I’d tell them to stay away from him—and that, of course, would mean that they’d cling to him like glue. You tell girls to do one thing and they do another. Have you ever noticed that, Al?”

  Hale did his best to keep his reply conversational instead of scathing. “Yes.”

  “He’s been single all this time now, you know, and I don’t think I can understand it. Girls should be flocking to him. Sometimes I see him showing one to the door in the morning, but it’s been a while. I’m usually very perceptive, you know. I’ve been wondering if Michael disappeared to go live with a new girl while the relationship is still fresh and exciting. It must be three weeks since he’s come home, which isn’t all that unusual, but still gives an old worrier like me something to stay up at night thinking about.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that you’re worried like that,” Hale said. The woman at the door wasn’t the best listener, and her long-windedness was frustrating, but he didn’t wish her ill. “I’m sure he’s okay. If I find out any news on him, I’ll let you know, okay?”

  “That’s very kind of you, Al. You’re a good brother.”

  “I try,” Hale said. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. It’s so nice to talk to considerate young people. I have a granddaughter your age you should meet. You don’t seem to be the type who causes trouble like Michael. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to meet a nice boy like that.”

  “You can get my phone number from Michael,” Hale said with a smile. “I’ve got to get going. Thank you again for your time!”

  “Goodbye, dear.”

  The elderly woman closed the door, and Hale let out a stale breath and swept the hair back from his forehead. If he could get through a conversation like that, he felt he could get through anything.

  He headed to the next door to continue his search when a set of footsteps down the hall drew his attention. Austin was on his way in. As soon as he saw Hale, he came to a stop. “You again.”

  “I had to come back for the TV,” Hale said. “it was too big to take on my first trip.”

  His attempt at humor seemed to go over Austin’s head. Austin took a few steps forward, looking at Hale in a way Hale had never seen before. It wasn’t contempt, which was good, but Hale wasn’t sure if it was innocent or suspicious curiosity.

  “You got rid of the smell, at least,” Austin said after a long pause. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, you would have, too, if you went in there and got it in full force.” Hale tried a smile, hoping to break the ice. Talking to Austin was awkward, largely because the more Hale saw of him, the more he realized that his high school crush had never really gone away. It had lain dormant over the years, but it hadn’t died, and now it was waking up with a vengeance. Austin was older now, his body more developed and his face a little older, but there was still something about him that struck Hale squarely in the gut and hooked him.

  His untouchable, irresistible tempta
tion was back, and he was going to have to deal with the fact that no matter how badly he wanted a taste, he’d never get one.

  “So,” Austin said. “What are you doing here again—seriously, this time.”

  Hale pursed his lips. He didn’t want to say exactly, knowing that things had gone bad between Michael and Austin while they served together, but at the same time, he knew that Austin might be able to help him find a lead. After a brief internal struggle, he gave in to his gut. “I’m here looking for my cousin—and I want you to help me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Austin

  “You want what?” Austin asked incredulously.

  “Your help,” Hale replied, cocking his head to the side and pouting his lips. “Don’t make me beg, Austin. I know that you haven’t been around to see me grow up, but I promise you, my begging skills have matured just as much as I have. You’re not going to want to go up against them. They’re so good, they’ve twisted Doris May’s arm into giving me free coffee once.”

  “Shit,” Austin mumbled. “If that’s true, that’s very impressive.”

  “Mmhmmm.” Hale quirked an eyebrow. He looked cute as hell, and Austin wasn’t sure how to process that. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to go toe to toe with my expert level puppy eyes, or are you going to throw in the towel and accept that I’m going to coerce you into doing this one way or another?”

  “Let’s go inside,” Austin said with a sigh. He gestured at his apartment door. “It’s probably for the best that we don’t stand out in the hallway having conversations about... well, anything, really. If you want to talk, I might as well invite you in.”

  The apartment had been empty since he’d come to call it home, and the idea of momentarily sharing it with another person was new. But new didn’t necessarily mean bad. Growth meant change. If everything stayed the same in his life, he’d never feel any differently than he already did. Hale was Michael’s cousin, and Austin had hard feelings toward Michael, but that didn’t mean that Hale was intrinsically bad. He owed the kid a shot.