by Anne Barwell
“Sure.” Joel rolled his eyes. “I swear that cat loves you and your dad more than she loves me. As soon as either of you are here, it’s as though I don’t exist. Treats are in the usual place, but don’t give her too many even if she begs for them.”
“I won’t, Uncle Joel.” Isabel skipped out of the room, the cat following closely behind.
“Nannerl?” Marcus asked. It seemed a strange name for a cat—unless he was missing something.
“She’s a girl, so I couldn’t call her Wolfgang,” Joel said as though the comment explained everything.
“Huh?”
“Wolfgang,” Joel repeated. “Amadeus Mozart,” he added when Marcus still looked none the wiser.
“Oh,” said Marcus, not sure what to say that wouldn’t sound as unenlightened as he felt.
“She was Mozart’s sister.” Joel frowned. “You’re not into music, are you?”
“Not into classical music,” Marcus corrected. “I like music as much as the next guy. I’m just not as clued up on it as you probably are. There’s not much call for that stuff in my line of work.”
“Oh, right. Yes.” Joel paused as though frantically trying to remember what Marcus did for a living.
“I mow lawns and do a bit of gardening and odd jobs. Had my own business in Hokitika, but I’m starting work with someone else up here. At least for now. It depends how everything pans out.” Marcus wasn’t sure why he’d gone into so much detail. All he’d planned to say was that he mowed lawns. His hopes for the future were his own business, and it wasn’t as though a guy he’d only met a few times would be interested.
“Ah yes. I remember now.” Joel screwed up his nose. “I probably should apologize for the state of my section, then. I don’t get the chance to mow very often, with all the time I spend at school and then a couple of afternoons teaching here too. I spend one day of my weekend on school stuff, and then it tends to rain on the other.”
“I could mow your lawns for you,” Marcus said, the words out of his mouth before he realized what he was doing.
Joel looked mortified. “I couldn’t ask you to do that!” His eyes glazed over for a moment before he flushed bright red. “You’d… I mean….” He took a deep breath. “I’d pay you of course.”
“If you want to, but it’s not necessary,” Marcus said, although he hadn’t intended to ask for money at all. Joel was a friend of Darin’s, and it was obvious Isabel doted on him. He’d been going to do it as a favor for his brother-in-law, but if Joel felt happier paying him for it, he wasn’t going to argue the point. “You seemed busy, and I figured I could help. I’m not trying to drum up business.”
He wasn’t sure what Brendan would think of him taking on new customers without discussing it first, but this was something he could do on his weekend. And that way Joel would be around too, and they could….
Marcus swallowed. What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t in the habit of using his lawn mowing to pick up men. Especially men who were best friends with members of his family, and sexy as hell to boot.
He wasn’t in the habit of picking up men. Period. He’d come to Wellington for a fresh start, not another relationship. Still, it couldn’t hurt to make new friends, right? That was what people did, and if he was going to see Joel at family dinners, it would be easier if they were on friendly terms. They’d never really got to know each other when Marcus had visited Wellington before, as a few conversations over dinner didn’t count.
“I didn’t think you were, and thanks. But even if it’s a one-off, as I said, I’d pay you of course.”
Isabel came back into the room, the cat trailing behind her. Nannerl purred loudly and brushed herself against Marcus’s legs. He bent to pat her without thinking. “Oh, look, Uncle Joel, Nannerl likes him!” She handed Marcus a glass of water. “It’s quite hot in here, isn’t it? I thought you might like some water.”
Joel glanced at Isabel and then Nannerl. “That cat is usually very standoffish,” he said. “Did you sneak some cat treats into Marcus’s pocket, Issy?”
Isabel grinned, the picture of innocence, although Marcus didn’t believe it for a moment. Her expression reminded him too much of her mother’s. “Of course not! Nannerl’s just made a new friend. Haven’t you, kitty?”
JOEL stretched his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. The day had been a busy one, and transposing the music for that week’s choir practice had taken longer than he’d anticipated. Leaving it in its original key would have been easier for him but not for the kids who had struggled with the high notes the week before. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the clock on the classroom wall. Crap. He’d worked past dinnertime again.
Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift back to the previous evening. Despite behaving like a complete idiot when Marcus had arrived, he figured he’d salvaged the situation reasonably well once he’d forced himself to calm down.
Joel took pride in keeping his cool in most situations, but for some reason when he met Marcus, he’d reacted like a hormonal teenager. He hadn’t babbled like that in years—a leftover habit from his childhood put long behind him—or at least since the last time he’d seen Marcus. And then when Marcus had offered to mow his lawns, Joel had immediately visualized a shirtless Marcus, abs dripping with perspiration.
Most of the kids he’d grown up with retreated into silence when they were nervous. Not Joel. He inflicted a bad case of verbal diarrhea on anyone who would listen. His father had told him it was because he needed to work on his self-confidence and to tell himself he didn’t need other people’s approval to be the man he wanted to be.
Joel snorted. He hadn’t thought of that conversation in years. He’d looked up to his father then, and they’d been close. Joel thought the world of his father, the strong-willed yet loving man who had promised to keep his only son safe from whatever came his way.
Unfortunately he’d never prepared Joel for the then unthinkable situation that was now his reality. His father loved him. So why had he thrown Joel out of the house for being gay? Trying to mesh the two men who were supposed to be one and the same made Joel’s head hurt. How could someone who loved him be so angry about who he was?
And what had happened to his father’s vow about keeping Joel safe? Or didn’t he count himself as a threat? Sure, Claude Ashcroft had never been violent toward Joel, but Joel had heard the bile behind the words his father had spoken. A few days after finishing high school, Joel had arrived at Darin’s with nowhere else to go, and too shaken to think about moving forward with his life. Darin had supported him and reminded him that they’d talked about flatting together before university started so why not look for a flat now?
Joel sighed. Thinking about the last time he’d seen his father was never a good idea. Better to focus on something else and move on.
Forward, and never back. It was safer that way.
He glanced around the classroom. It looked tidy enough—Diane and Tina had done a good job cleaning up, although he’d told them to leave the whiteboard as he hadn’t quite finished with it. Still hadn’t quite finished with it.
Where was his notepad? He hunted through his desk and finally found it underneath the empty cup from that morning’s coffee.
“I figured you’d still be here.”
“Hi, Ella.” Joel began looking for his pen. He’d had it a few moments before. “You here for the PTA meeting?”
Ella handed him his pen. “Yes, unfortunately.” She’d joined the Parent Teacher Association shortly after Isabel had started high school at Avalon College.
“Unfortunately?” Joel raised one eyebrow. “Thanks for the pen. Where was it?”
“On the floor in front of your desk. It rolled off when you shifted your cup.” Ella walked around to his side of the desk. “Adelaide Barker’s on the warpath. She’s got some fundraising ideas I thought you might want a heads-up about.” She paused. “I’d like your input before I go for or against whatever she puts forth.”
“Yes?” Joel sto
od and offered Ella his seat, then pulled across a stool and perched on it. “This has the sound of something I’m not going to like.”
“That depends,” Ella said cautiously. “I think the idea has some merit, but it is going to be a lot of work for you if the board agrees to go along with it.”
“I’m listening.”
“Adelaide thinks—and I agree—that the school choir and orchestra sounded really good at prizegiving at the end of last year. You’ve done amazing work with those kids, and it’s obvious they’re enjoying it too.”
“Thanks. I’m proud of them. They’ve worked hard and it shows.”
The orchestra and choir were Joel’s pet projects. When he’d arrived at the school, there wasn’t much in the way of opportunity for music performance. His predecessor had a choir of sorts, but they were taught by an itinerant music teacher who came in once a week, and the kids had to audition in order to take part. Most of the students involved in it were there under protest because their parents had pushed them into it. Although their teacher had done what he could, when he’d left, the choir had quickly disbanded.
“Adelaide’s idea is to put on a concert so the kids can show off what they can do, and use the money to buy new equipment for the music department.”
“The idea has some merit,” Joel said slowly. “It would need to be later in the year, and I’m not going to push the kids into something they don’t want to do, especially as it would mean extra rehearsals. We also have some new kids this year, and they need time to settle in. If we go ahead with a fundraising concert, that means learning a lot more music.” He picked up his notebook and scribbled down some ideas. “Perhaps a couple of pieces each and for the finale the orchestra can accompany the choir?” He sucked on the end of his pencil. “Do you want me to come to the meeting with you?”
His stomach rumbled, a reminder he hadn’t had dinner yet. He’d grab something later if Ella wanted him there. This idea had a lot going for it, but he’d have to ensure it didn’t expand into something totally unrealistic.
“You need to go home and have dinner,” Ella said. She got up from the desk. “I’ve got this, but I wanted your input first. So, a short concert, about half an hour to an hour long? Hmm, have you—never mind.”
“Never mind what?” Joel knew that look. Ella wouldn’t have mentioned anything unintentionally.
“How long has it been since you performed in public?” Ella asked a question for which she already knew the answer.
“Univ…. Hang on. No.” Joel’s eyes widened. “I haven’t done anything like that since I was at uni.”
“I’ve heard you play,” Ella said. “You’re very good, and I figure I’m only asking you to do what you’re asking your students to do.”
“But… safety in numbers and all that. They’re performing in a group. This would be a solo.” Joel knew she had a point, and it had been too long since he’d done something like this.
“You’d be accompanying the choir,” Ella pointed out.
“Yes, but….” Joel felt himself warming to the idea despite his protestations, and kicked himself mentally. He missed performing and the adrenaline rush that came with it.
“Just think about it, hmm?” Ella headed for the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t mention it as an option in the meeting.” She gave him a bright smile. “Just between you and me for the moment, okay?”
“Okay.” Joel watched her go and sat staring for several minutes at the door she’d shut behind her.
Crap. What had he done? His own performance aside, as that wasn’t going to happen, if this concert went ahead, he’d just given up most of what was left of his free time for the next four months.
Chapter Three
“I THOUGHT the PTA meeting went well,” Ella said, breaking the awkward silence at the dinner table the following Friday. She passed the bowl of roast vegetable salad to Joel.
“I thought you weren’t going to suggest I perform at the concert.” Joel took the bowl, dished himself out a generous amount, and then handed it to Marcus, who was seated on his right. “I told you I was still thinking about it.”
Marcus decided to say nothing. Joel had been quiet when he’d arrived for dinner, and judging from the glances Ella and Darin kept exchanging, that wasn’t normal. Hopefully they would be able to find out what was wrong. After all, they knew Joel better than he did.
“I didn’t suggest it,” Ella said. “Adelaide did, and then everyone else was all over it. One of the parents remembered you from uni and some concert you performed in back then.”
“Of course she did,” Joel muttered. “I got into school the next morning, and everyone was talking about something I hadn’t even agreed to! Not only that, but the kids are all over it. If I back out now, I’ll feel like a heel.”
“I thought you missed performing,” Darin said.
“Yeah, but not everything that goes with it.” Joel attacked a piece of kumara with his fork, then dropped the fork onto his plate. “I haven’t done any serious practice for years, and I always get really nervous when I’m not prepared. I always made sure I knew the piece inside and out. Really not a fan of feeling like I want to throw up before a performance. What kind of example is that going to give the kids?”
“Then pick something you feel confident with,” Darin suggested. “Most of the audience won’t know if you’re playing something difficult.”
“I’d love to hear you play, Uncle Joel,” Isabel said. She’d listened to the adults quietly, frowning as she followed the conversation. “You always tell me performance isn’t about how many mistakes you make but keeping going as though you hadn’t made them at all.”
Joel managed a smile. “I do say that, don’t I?”
Marcus decided it was time to add his two cents, despite them not being worth much. “I wouldn’t have a clue how difficult anything is. I’m impressed by anyone who can play.”
“Thanks,” Joel murmured. He flushed, picked up his fork, and pushed the defenseless piece of kumara around his plate.
“So, now we’ve sorted that out, are you going to tell us what’s really up?” Darin spoke casually, but he gave Joel a familiar look. Marcus had seen it a couple of times, one of which was when he’d given Darin the “break my sister’s heart and I’ll kill you” speech.
Darin had given him that look—a mix of disbelief and “I’m not putting up with any of your bullshit”—before covering it with a laugh. He’d then told Marcus he loved Ella with everything he was, and if anyone hurt her, it wouldn’t be Marcus they’d have to worry about.
Joel glanced at Marcus and didn’t say anything.
“Do you want me to leave?” Marcus said. “I’m not going to take offense if you’d prefer not to talk about something private in front of me.” He shrugged. “After all, you don’t know me that well.”
“I don’t want to burden you with—” Joel started to say.
“Why don’t I go find the ice cream for dessert?” Isabel said brightly. “Uncle Marcus, why don’t you help me?” She glanced at her mother. “There’s ice cream, right? I saw some in the freezer last night. Uncle Marcus?”
Marcus hesitated. He’d meant what he said about leaving if Joel wanted to talk about something private, but he preferred it to be Joel’s decision. Sometimes having an outside opinion about a situation could be helpful. “Joel?”
“Up to you.” Joel shrugged. “Ice cream sounds wonderful, Issy. Thanks.”
“I’ll stay,” Marcus said.
Joel waited until Isabel had left the room. “Sorry,” he said. “I was going to talk about it later, but I’ve been on edge since yesterday, and I guess it couldn’t wait.”
Darin nodded. Neither he nor Ella said anything, so Marcus didn’t either.
“I ran into someone at the supermarket last night.” Joel took a deep breath. “Literally ran into her with my shopping trolley. I apologized and backed off immediately of course, but….”
“But?” Ella prompted softly when J
oel lapsed into silence.
“Molly Wakeman used to be my father’s secretary when I was a kid.” Joel took a long drink of water. “She recognized me immediately and started chatting like we’d only seen each other yesterday.”
Marcus frowned. He didn’t get what the issue was. “She sounds like a nice lady,” he said slowly.
“Yeah, she is.” Joel bit his lip. He glanced at Marcus and then studied his plate as though Marcus had said something very wrong. “My dad and I haven’t talked for years,” he said, still not meeting Marcus’s gaze. “He threw me out of his house—and his life—when I told him I was gay.”
“I’m so sorry.” Marcus wasn’t sure what else to say. He’d heard of others going through similar experiences, although his parents had accepted his sexuality and always been very welcoming of any partners he’d introduced. Hell, they still treated Garth like family. “That must have been… difficult,” he added finally, more to break the silence than anything else.
“Claude—Joel’s dad—was an arsehole about the whole thing,” Darin said. “He’s a very stubborn guy, much like his son.”
Joel let out a breath. “Did you know my dad is having heart problems?” he asked Darin.
“Shit, no.” Darin looked surprised that Joel had asked. “Why would I? I don’t talk to the guy. You asked me not to, so I haven’t.”
“He’s okay, isn’t he?” Ella asked. She sounded thoughtful. “Perhaps it’s time the two of you put the past behind you and talked about everything.”
“Bernadette never said anything when we spoke on the phone a couple of days ago.” Joel sounded more angry than upset. “Shit, why would my sister keep something like that from me? He’s still my dad, even if he doesn’t act like he is. I didn’t expect to find out something like this from someone I haven’t seen in years.” He pushed back his chair. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a few, okay?”
“Give him a few moments, and I’ll go after him,” Darin said. “Sorry, Marcus. Joel’s the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, and despite everything, Claude is still….”