Christmas Angel

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  “How does all this make you feel?”

  “Confused.”

  * * * *

  He remained confused five minutes later when walking along the road. Why had the first question out of Candice’s mouth been to ask how he’d felt coming out to his father? What had she expected him to say? Awkward, nervous, the usual emotions. Not once had he entertained his parents rejecting him. He didn’t need Candice or anyone to tell him what a smooth ride he had in that respect. His father would forgive him anything.

  “Anything?” Candice had asked. “Murder?”

  “Well, that would depend. Could be self-defence. That’s not a fair comparison.”

  “Trust me. I’ve treated a few whose relatives preferred they were killers to homosexual.”

  “That’s twisted.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  He’d had it easy despite others doubting him. Despite the occasional remark, speculation and open perplexity of the men with whom he worked, they had accepted him, and when he said so, Candice noticed his use of the word. The discussion led to one on peer pressure. He’d spent the first half of the session wondering whether she’d ask how it had felt to come out as liking another man when, for so long, people had known him as the most active ‘cock’ around town. Had she done so directly, he’d have had no answer for her.

  Much of what she implied made sense—he’d always fitted into masculine roles. Still did, though that irked. He wasn’t happy with that…entirely. The idea was odd, and clichéd, too closely resembling what many heterosexuals assumed homosexual relationships were. Many were mistaken, plain wrong. A number saw Jay as the girl in their relationship, and that pissed off Dean. The thought bugged him. The matter was one he’d like to discuss with Jay. Did Jay find Dean’s borderline over the top brand of masculinity agreeable? Repellent? No, not that or Jay wouldn’t be with him, but did any part of Jay believe Dean faked his behaviour? Overcompensated? Would be good to know Jay’s true feelings, not to have to speculate. The discussion was one they should most definitely have, even if it proved awkward or Dean came across as an idiot. Maybe more maturity crept in each day.

  Would April applaud this change in behaviour? Chances were she’d laugh if she knew how awkward…

  Dean stopped, spinning around. A woman bumped into him and by the time he’d apologised and looked up…Nothing. No one he knew. Not April, yet he swore he’d seen her a moment before, as if he’d conjured her up. If he hallucinated, no doubt his psyche chose the worst possible apparition with which to plague him.

  He carried on walking.

  No reason for his surprise. April stirred her cauldron as always, only this time through Brian. More fool him for thinking they’d moved on.

  Dean waited for the light to change and then peered both ways before crossing the road. A few mindless seconds ticked on, distracted by the mundane, all too soon gone. Another headache bullied its way to the front of his skull.

  If Brian hadn’t spoken to him, he’d be happy living with Jay, having no doubts, not searching for answers. Boy, he smelled the bullshit. He might not doubt his feelings for Jay but he had questions. He had fears. Both needed investigation.

  If it were a choice between his fears and confronting April, the choice became easy.

  Chapter 5

  “So what do you think of Brian?” April asked.

  The question confirmed Jay’s suspicions. Whatever the reason April had come round to see him…again, whilst it might involve brotherly love, the visit was not purely social. Might not have much to do with Brian. April had never sought his opinion concerning any of the men she’d dated.

  Jay made a show of glancing over his shoulder and showing her his teeth before saying, “Seems like a good’un.”

  “That’s what I thought.” The answering flash of her molars was all aggression.

  Silence descended, broken only by the sound of Jay spooning ground coffee into the percolator. These visits were becoming uncommonly and uncomfortably frequent. April claiming ‘‘twas the season’ not a good enough excuse. She had never popped round this often on earlier occasions. She appeared not to want to be home, or alone, or where Brian might find her. Hmm.

  Jay switched on the coffeemaker and the gurgle and glug of the machine took precedence.

  “So, you’re happy with him?”

  “Y-Yes.”

  Her tone rose into the high octaves and she stumbled there. Hesitation? Distraction? Uncertainty? Maybe she didn’t expect Jay to ask. Was she so surprised? Though she shared little, April’s love life was an engrossing topic.

  “You started this conversation,” he reminded her, to which she said nothing. Well, hell if he would let her off so easily.

  Jay reached into the top of the cupboard, gaze flashing to the step stool for a second. Although she wasn’t any taller, no way he’d use the thing in front of his sister. Where was Dean when he needed him, and why did they keep the biscuits up so high? Not that it mattered. They had to keep something on the higher shelves. Whatever he needed to reach for would annoy him.

  He struggled, in danger of pulling a muscle, but managed. Not bothering to go to the hassle of laying out biscuits on a plate as his mother always did, Jay ripped open the packet and dumped it on the counter.

  “You don’t sound happy.” Jay was in the mood to make this conversation awkward.

  “We’re fine. Early days…I guess.”

  Did she sound disgruntled or puzzled? Hard to tell.

  “Too soon to talk wedding bells?” Boy, he pushed it. April narrowed her gaze, squinting at him.

  “Since when did you turn into our mother?”

  This time the subtle tones were easy to distinguish—suspicion warred with disgust.

  “Low blow,” he admitted. April wasn’t the only one tired of their mother trying to marry off her children. Jay had found his man, but they weren’t ‘official’, not in his mother’s eyes. Things had changed. He and Dean could marry. Marriage didn’t worry their mother so much, though. Gay or straight, she wanted her children’s children. He hadn’t raised that question with Dean. Didn’t know how Dean would react, unsure whether he wanted children himself. Marriage, maybe, but no need to rush to do either. Although likely a simple case of getting her own back, April appeared to read his mind.

  “If we’re talking wedding bells, you two have been together longer.”

  “It’s not the same for us.” Jay took two mugs out of a cupboard.

  “Why?”

  A good question he didn’t want to answer. He took time pouring coffees and adding milk before he faced her.

  “Not everyone is as understanding as our family.” Jay set the mugs on the counter. April’s thoughts moved through her expression, gave a warning of ensuing unpleasantness, though his sister continued to delay. Was she aware whenever she tried to appear nonchalant he recognised it as fake?

  “I understand. Someone has to be the pioneer.”

  Jay barked out a laugh. “Pioneer? Darling, enough men have married to make our being trailblazers ludicrous. Besides, call me old-fashioned. I prefer the man to ask.” He put a sashay into his hips, putting on a performance. He even added a twirl, right where he stood in the middle of the kitchen before returning to the counter. April perched on a stool, gaze indolent. Jay took a biscuit, leaned on his elbows, and munched.

  “Speaking of Dean…”

  Here it comes.

  “Must be nice to be one’s own boss. To get out of work when you want.”

  “You forget I’m my boss. Well, sort of.” He worked under contract, and he sometimes had to visit on-site, but his long hoped-for career had taken flight. At least a percentage of the work allowed him to set his own hours. That wasn’t the reason he mentioned it. He stalled to give his thoughts a chance to assimilate. No need to be Sherlock to work out April had seen Dean somewhere she didn’t think he belonged. He popped the last of the biscuit in his mouth and reached for his coffee.

  “Still, I didn’t ex
pect to see him in town earlier today. Walking along the high street.” She added the lengthy pause for which she was famous. “When he should have been working.”

  Jay had timed his eating and drinking on purpose. He lifted the mug and took a swallow to clear his mouth and to gain a few precious seconds…not that he needed them. That was it? His sister had seen Dean in town when she didn’t expect him to be there? Might be for many reasons.

  She was watching, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn’t want to defend Dean, but he refused to let April think she had rattled him, when she hadn’t.

  “He mentioned getting around to Christmas shopping. You’re right, though. He shouldn’t do it during working hours. Naughty man.” Jay smiled; positive the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Yes…” April’s stare never wavered. “Naughty man, indeed.”

  * * * *

  By the time April left, she’d overtired him. Jay went for a quick run around the block, not because he liked to run, or exercised regularly, but because the wish to move overcame him. Besides, the sharp air enlivened him, if it came with alarming connotations—he’d once had to undertake a long walk in snow.

  His sister’s snide remarks weren’t the only reason. She’d reminded him they needed to visit their grandmother. The old woman had grown too difficult to take care of and now lived in a nursing home. Jay hated the visits, especially since he no longer took Dean. His grandmother always became confused, never remembering Dean and believing he was April’s new boyfriend, so, a year before, Jay had reached an unwelcome decision. He always visited her alone, or with a parent or his sibling, but always without Dean.

  Less than ten minutes later, he arrived home, bringing a chill into the house. Didn’t need a shower. A quick primp and splash, T-shirt change and, fresh again, he walked downstairs now more awake and suffering less emotional exhaustion.

  He didn’t always cook, but he did more during the week, owing to his working as much as possible from home, since Dean took over at weekends if they stayed indoors. How domestic. Simple and light sufficed. He’d bought marlin steaks. He took them out of the fridge. Next, he reached for prepared and frozen homemade sauce and popped it into a pan. He chose orzo as an accompaniment. He’d throw in a few extras: tomatoes, basil, and basil oil.

  The front door opened as Jay melted the sauce. As soon as it defrosted, he’d add the fish.

  He stirred, tilting his head as his lover came up behind him. Arms went around his waist. Dean’s hot breath puffed against his neck, and a kiss landed.

  “What are you after?” Dean mumbled against his skin.

  “Only the obvious. And a way to your heart.” Both men could cook, Jay only because Dean had taught him a fraction of what he knew. Jay wasn’t the wife and Dean the husband in the outmoded sense. Jay hadn’t lied to April, though. If marriage ever came up, he wanted Dean to ask. According to April, his wish would only ever be that: a daydream and maybe in time, empty yearning.

  * * * *

  “Why are you smiling?” Dean twirled his wine glass.

  Empty plates sat between them. Jay stared at smears of red sauce, thoughts of blood popping into his mind.

  “Am I?” He hadn’t realised. “Just thinking how different things are. How we got here.”

  “I’m thinking of how we can make it to the bedroom.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Especially on such full stomachs.”

  Jay winced. “I cooked too much.” He’d thrown in salad but always made enough for ten. The garlic bread had been unnecessary.

  “I didn’t have to eat it.”

  “No, but that’s a good sign. Means I’m improving and my efforts were edible. This time.” He’d not dwell on his initial failures though he’d never forget them.

  “True.” Dean grinned, likely sharing the images of the early disasters Jay remembered well.

  “Means sex is out of the question.” Jay tried to make that sound a gloomy prospect but washing up, or bothering to do much this evening disheartened him.

  “Bit too early for bed, if not for the obvious.”

  Dean’s accompanying smile struck Jay as a gentle, warm, loving thing. Did anyone else see how Dean’s grin softened? Likely not. Jay suppressed a sigh. So many people never understood him. Dean—the guy’s guy. A ‘lad’. He hid his insecurities under a brash exterior. Couple that with his tendency to be thoughtless, and people assumed Dean was inconsiderate, selfish, and even rude.

  The man was well intentioned. Always. Though Dean Chapman was capable of stupid behaviour, if people gave up on everyone, pushed people out of their lives for being foolish, then their circle of friends and family would dwindle. Half of those blaming Dean for his egotism were good at being self-centred themselves.

  “A movie? Snuggle?”

  Jay nodded. “You choose.” His thoughts were in turmoil. He’d only half focus on the film, anyhow.

  As he curled up on the sofa, he changed his mind. He liked the film Dean chose, and his many questions reduced to one: Do I trust him?

  The reply popped up like an email in his Inbox: Yes.

  Yes, he did. Of course, trust could be misdirected. Anyone might break a person’s trust, but that defined trust and faith.

  Dean didn’t steal. Didn’t lie. He didn’t cheat. Always showed up to help with any emergency. He helped anyone when able. He worked hard. Loved hard, too. Gave everything when it came to sex; when it involved his heart. He’d die defending someone. He remained loyal to those he thought worthy of such devotion.

  Jay believed in Dean. He always had.

  Until someone proved him wrong, he always would.

  Jay snuggled, mind at peace. He settled on the sofa to watch explosive action with the man he loved.

  Chapter 6

  “Why did you agree to see me again?” His last session had taken place three days before. Candice Hemingway had promised to fit him in twice a week until Christmas. After that…they’d ‘see’. “Sorry, but the short warning, fitting me in, it strikes me as…odd.” There must be a motive. He only hoped her reasons weren’t owing to a severe discrepancy in his mental health.

  “For a man so eager to lie on the couch I don’t have, you’re doing an awful lot of complaining.”

  Was Candice always going to sound amused with him? Did she sound that way with all her…patients? Did being a patient make him a sick person? Well, crap.

  “There has to be more to you seeing me at short notice.”

  Candice tucked her legs back in the demure way she had of sitting. Left foot behind right ankle, both legs slanted, and knees to the left, feet to the right. The pose made her femininity more evident, but, in this situation, that unnerved him.

  “I really have had a few cancellations. It’s not uncommon this time of year. I’m a counsellor, not a psychiatrist. I don’t deal with serious psychosis. Think of me as a G.P. who sends people to the right specialist if need be.”

  “Do I need a specialist?”

  “It may be too early to say.”

  “You’ve still not answered my question.”

  Candice smiled, lips pressed together but stretching wider than usual. Her smile, no matter what kind, always reached her eyes. She stood, walked over to her desk, opened a cupboard, took out her handbag, dug into it, removed a small book, returned the bag whence it came, and walked back. She sat, and flipped open the book.

  Not a book. A small photo album.

  She found what she searched for and handed it over. Dean took it, avoiding contact. Touching his therapist, barring the welcome and goodbye handshake, seemed impolite.

  The photo he stared at depicted a large and handsome husky.

  “He’s my heart,” Candice said, without shame. “Brian, as you know, is a vet. He saved Blue’s life when a car that mounted the pavement clipped my dog. Ironically, the driver tried to avoid another dog that had run out into the road. I didn’t blame the driver—who appeared to have more than a degree of goodness in him, for
he offered to pay the vet bill. He blanched when I told him how much it might be but I have insurance so, instead, I suggested he donate to an animal charity. The whole point being, Brian didn’t give up. He sat up with Blue making sure he made it through the first night after surgery.”

  Candice laughed. “That night I might have done anything for that man. Love makes us crazy even when it’s love for a dog. I will always trust Blue to Brian’s care, and I will always do the best I can for him or his friends. I hope that answers your concerns.”

  “Blue eyes.” Dean caught himself tracing the outline of the dog’s face. He looked across at Candice. Her eyes really twinkled.

  “Maybe I saw the similarity. Maybe it warmed me to you.”

  So he didn’t imagine it: the dog’s eyes were a similar shade to his. Should he roll over for her?

  “And Brian asked nicely.” She took back the photograph.

  “You feel you owe him one. Or several.”

  “Something like that, though he doesn’t see it that way.”

  Dean resisted suggesting there were other ways to pay Brian back, all his ideas unethical. Not to mention the man dated April. Neither did he ask if his sessions remained confidential despite her obvious acquaintance with the vet, their association now a little more personal than Dean first surmised. He had no need to be a mind reader to realise Candice’s easy-going temperament might turn to anger at the suggestion. The emotion might not manifest in her head spinning around, and she might not kick him out, but he didn’t want to take the risk. He wouldn’t have the willpower to seek help from someone else and didn’t want to lose ground.

  Candice put an end to the silence and the intimate moment. “Now, let’s carry on where we left off. Did you do the homework?”

  When had someone last asked him that? Homework reminded him of being a teen, of doing schoolwork with Jay. Unlike the times he made excuses about incomplete study, he’d done as Candice asked.

  “Confusion is normal.” Dean had been reading both from books and online since his last session.

  “It is.”

  Dean gave her a nod. “I thought I’d feel clear on that score by now but…” He shook his head, got up, paced, and sat down again. Might be rude to pace although Candice didn’t appear to mind.