“I was just going to offer. You could move some of your things into my place; keep them safe, just in case,” Boyd said.
“I might do that,” replied Llewellyn, thinking it wasn't a bad idea. He knew he could trust Boyd to mind his possessions until he came home again. “You better get going. I've got some planning to do.”
“Be careful, Lew,” said Boyd as he let himself out the back door. Llewellyn watched his neighbor cross their shared double driveway and enter his own home. He turned the newspaper back over and looked at it. Daffyd, Daffyd; what have you got yourself into? He picked up the phone and dialed Rhiannon's number.
“Dad?” She answered on the first ring, seeing Llewellyn's name on the display panel of her vidphone.
“Hello, Rhee.” He didn't waste time on pleasantries. “Have you seen that scandal paper with Daffyd all over it?”
“Yes, I have. It's awful, Dad! I can't believe they printed it.” Mostly I can't believe he got caught. He's always been so discreet, so careful.
“Is it true, Rhee? Is Daffyd hetero?” Lew asked her bluntly. The hesitation before she replied, gave him the answer. He interrupted her to ask, “How long have you known?”
She hesitated again. “More than twenty years,” she said at last. “I didn't believe it for a long time, but eventually I realized he was telling me the truth.”
“Why didn't either of you tell me?” he asked quietly.
“I didn't because it wasn't my place to tell Daffyd's secrets. You'll have to ask him, when he turns up.” Although, after reading the article, and learning the timing of his disappearance, she doubted that would be anytime soon.
“If he turns up,” said Llewellyn. Rhiannon was about to chastise him for thinking Daffyd would desert his family completely, when Llewellyn said something she hadn't considered. “What if that reporter was part of one of those groups, Rhee? What if they killed him and dumped his body somewhere?”
Her knees went weak at the thought, and she sank into a chair. “No, Dad, no.” She thought over the details of Daffyd's vanishing. “She wouldn't have let him go, then. Remember, the hotel doorman saw him, and the front desk clerk called him in his room? Maybe he just decided to find a safe haven.”
“Then why haven't we heard from him, Rhee? That's not like him at all!” He was frightened and angry and taking it out on her.
“I don't know, Dad. I don't know.” She heard the underlying fear in his voice. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“No, Rhee, I'm not.” He told her of Boyd's visit and his advice to Llewellyn to get out of town.
“You don't really think you're in any danger, do you?” She couldn't believe her father's neighbors would turn on him.
“It's hard to say anymore. People are so much nastier now than they used to be. Those anti-hetero groups are bigger and crueler and better organized. You never know who might be a member. I'm going to take Boyd's advice, Rhee. I'm leaving tonight.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“I don't know for sure,” he replied. “Daffyd always wanted me to see his island; maybe I'll go there.” The island under discussion was in the south Pacific. It was technically part of one of the many small kingdoms that dotted that part of the world. Daffyd had bought it outright as a getaway place, and had built a comfortable, but not ostentatious home there. He often used it for a week here and there, to get away from the prying eyes of fans. He loved his houseboat, but sometimes people he didn't know found him there. No one came uninvited to the island.
“That's not a bad idea,” Rhiannon said, privately thinking it was a little extreme. However, if Llewellyn felt safest there, then that's where he should be. “You better go and make your flight arrangements then, Dad. Let me know when you're leaving, and keep in touch along the way. I want to know you got there safe and sound, okay?”
“I'll keep in touch. You might want to consider your own safety, Rhee. If this gets ugly, we could all be in trouble.”
“We'll be fine, Dad. If it seems that there's even a chance of us getting hurt, we'll head for the hills.” She smiled to make her voice sound less strained. They bid each other farewell and broke the connection. She stared at the dead receiver.
She wished she knew where Daffyd was. This upset and brouhaha was all his fault. If he had just tried harder to be normal, instead of saying that it was beyond his control, none of this would be happening. You know better than that, Rhiannon ap Owen, said a part of her mind she didn't want to listen to right now. You've seen him suffer over the years. NO ONE chooses a living hell like that. He has tried, and you know it. Right now, people are going to be saying very nasty things about him, and maybe Dad's right to run. It might not be a bad idea to go up to the cottage for a while. Take Ria, and just go up for a winter holiday.
This sounded like a good idea. She would talk to Morgyn tonight and make the suggestion. She was sure her daughter wouldn't object. As a police officer, Morgyn knew better than anyone how the NoHets, as the radical heterophobic movement members were called in this part of Northern California, could get out of hand. Innocent family members of heterosexuals were not immune from the hate-inspired wrath of this mob.
She took a small notepad and started making a list of things she'd have to take. It was chilly enough to need warm clothes, but still got warm enough on sunny days to get away with summer wear. Groceries, some games and toys for Ria, books for herself; she sat and jotted down everything that came to mind.
The kitchen door opened and her Significant Other, Beatrice Lowell came in from outside. She tossed her coat onto a chair and kissed Rhiannon on the cheek, before sitting at the table with her. She indicated the list in front of Rhiannon.
“What's that?” she asked.
“I'm making a list of things to take up to the cottage. I think I want to go up there for a while,” Rhiannon replied, adding another item.
“Why do you want to go up there this time of year? It's cold and rainy. Is something wrong, Anna?” She refused to use the short form ‘Rhee', preferring her own pet version of Rhiannon's name. ‘Rhee’ reminded her of Daffyd, whom she detested intensely. She had never felt comfortable around him. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her uneasy.
When she and Rhiannon had first started seeing each other just over ten years ago, Beatrice had not associated ‘Daffyd ap Owen’ with anything other than the music world. She wasn't a follower or fan of his, and had never paid much attention to him.
Then Rhiannon had introduced her new love to her brother. Beatrice had looked into the startling blue eyes, and realized she knew them. When he spoke, the memory flew up from the deepest recesses of her mind; unbidden and unwelcome of a fraternity party twenty-five years ago, or more. It was the wildest event she had ever attended. Half the partygoers were in various stage of undress, there was every form of alcohol available, recreational drugs were set out in bowls like chips or candy. Sexual activity did not seem to be confined to private rooms; Beatrice had seen couples, and even a threesome or two being incredibly indiscreet in the corners of various rooms. She had wandered around, drinking a rum punch that seemed to be more rum than punch.
One group she saw had involved both genders, and she had watched the proceedings from behind a tall potted plant. She had found the sight arousing, to her shame and confusion. Tearing her eyes from the erotic scene, she had found herself to be under the amused scrutiny of a young man who was in a position to see, not only Beatrice, but also the activity she had been so intently watching. She had flushed bright red. The tall youth had laughed at her discomfiture and turned away.
Her embarrassment hadn't kept her curiosity at bay, and her mind kept replaying the images of the boy and the girls she had seen. What would it be like with a man? she wondered. This is the place to find out, if I'm ever going to know. Nobody cares who's doing what or whom. Somebody said there's private rooms upstairs; I wouldn't have to do it out in front of everybody. A warm tingle went through her at the thought
. But who do I ask? How do I ask? What do I say?
Who should she choose: the blond fellow she had seen with the two girls? She knew he was willing to have a female partner, but he might be worn out from his prior activities. Perhaps that swarthy fellow she had seen kissing a girl in the kitchen. Why not that tall one who was watching you before? He seemed kind of interested in the trio on the floor? Didn't you see his eyes go to them before he turned away? Maybe he wasn't laughing at you; maybe he was laughing because he wanted to be doing that to you and was embarrassed to ask.
Bolstering herself with this thought, she went in search of the young man. She saw him leaning against a wall, talking to a very plain-looking girl. Beatrice had smiled to herself. She was extremely attractive in face and figure, and knew it. If he was after a woman, she wouldn't have any trouble replacing the homely one he was with now. She moved closer, trying not to be too obvious.
“You are so full of it, Dave,” the girl was saying. “There's no way.”
“I'm telling you I can and I did,” he replied, laughing. His companion shook her head in mock exasperation, smiling up at him.
“You'll have to prove it to me, then, because I don't think anyone can compose a symphony, or even a tune for a song, that fast.”
Beatrice meandered past, pretended interest in someone else for a moment, then turned back, just as Dave lifted his head and glanced around. His incredibly blue eyes touched her and slid past, before returning to the young woman before him.
“Come up to my room, and I'll write you a song right now,” he said, with an odd little smile that barely moved his mouth at all. “Ginny's Song, just for you.”
“HA!” exclaimed Ginny, laughing. “I'm sure. I come up to your room, you ‘write a song', and the next thing I know, you'll be showing me your baton, or something.” She smiled in a way that suggested this wouldn't be an unwelcome situation.
“I promise not to show you anything you don't want to see,” he replied.
Ginny laughed. “Tell you what, I'm going to the little girls’ room, and when I come back, you can write a song for me. Upstairs.” She smiled at him, squeezed his hand and walked away.
Beatrice had heard enough to decide that he was just the one she wanted. She approached him with a suggestive smile.
“Hi there,” she said.
“Hello,” he replied.
“I overheard part of your conversation with Ginny,” said Beatrice, as if the girl were a friend of hers. She licked her lips nervously. “I'd kind of like to see your ... baton. Music, I mean.” She was flustered now, under his steady gaze. She knew he understood her meaning, by the way he smiled. Her hands felt clammy and cold suddenly. This is it! she thought. I really did it. Why would he want to take that mouse up to his room when he can have me? She smiled invitingly.
“Sorry,” he said. “It's a private performance.” The blue eyes flickered contemptuously, and he pushed himself away from the wall, away from Beatrice. She watched his tall form striding across the room. He encountered Ginny returning from the washroom and said something to her. Ginny glanced past his arm to where Beatrice stood, cheeks burning with shame and outrage, and laughed up at him. He shook his head and half-rolled his eyes. Beatrice watched them go up the stairs together.
I'll get him some day! she had vowed to herself. If it's the last thing I ever do, I'm going to get that self-important asshole. She had left the party soon afterwards, not wanting to encounter either of the couple after they came back down. It was too humiliating. She had managed to forget the incident completely, burying it deep in the farthest corners of her subconscious, unnoticed, unremembered. Until Rhiannon had introduced her brother of the bright blue eyes and faintly mocking smile.
Now, his world was crumbling around him, and Beatrice couldn't have been happier. It was hard to hide her joy from Rhiannon, but she played the sympathetic spouse to perfection. Her greatest hope now was that the great Daffyd ap Owen would come crawling to his sister for help, and Beatrice would be there. I'll help you all right, you evil, twisted thing. I'll help you straight to Hell! She focused her attention on what Rhiannon was telling her.
“I just want to get out of town for a bit, in case this trouble with Daffyd blows up. I don't want Ria getting hurt.” Rhiannon turned worried eyes to her partner. “I'm scared, Triss.”
“I don't blame you,” said Beatrice. “Perhaps it's a good idea to get away for a bit.” She couldn't tell her that Rhiannon and her girls were as safe as if they had a twenty-four hour police guard. As one of the founding members of the local branch of NoHets, Beatrice had made certain that her family would not be molested in any way. However, she knew Rhiannon wouldn't approve of her association with the group, and had kept it hidden from her. “I won't be able to come with you right away,” she said. “But I'll come up on the weekend. Is that all right? Will you be okay up there with just Ria?”
“I'll be fine, Triss,” said Rhiannon. “But aren't you afraid, staying here alone?”
“I'm sure Morgyn will make sure the police check in now and then,” Beatrice replied smoothly. “I'll be fine, I'm sure. But you and Ria might feel safer out of the limelight.” Besides, if that slithering snake brother of yours turns up, he'll likely come here first, and I'll be here to welcome him with open arms. She hid a sly smile. “Let me make you some tea and then I'll help you pack your bags, Anna. Everything will be fine, darling. You'll see.” She kissed her tenderly.
“Thanks, Triss. I need to hear that. This whole thing is a nightmare.”
“It'll all blow over soon, I'm sure. People don't seem to care as much anymore whether other people are normal or not.” She turned away to hide a grimace of distaste. She cared. She cared a lot. She put the kettle on the stove. Rhiannon sighed, and felt a modicum of relief. Maybe Triss was right, and this would pass before they knew it. She was lucky to have Beatrice. So many people wouldn't have been so understanding.
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CHAPTER 30
Seren had finished weeding, and had fetched a basket to gather more produce. She was trying to pick only what they needed for each day, so that the vegetables would be at their peak of freshness for each meal. Besides, chores helped to pass the time, which would otherwise have hung heavy on her hands. Now, with her basket held in both hands, she came walking blithely around the end of the lilac bushes, unprepared for the sight that greeted her.
Daffyd, stripped to the waist, was chopping firewood for the kitchen stove. A gleam of sweat shone across the broad shoulders as he swung the axe. Seren stopped and stared, struck by the image. Daffyd was so soft-spoken and genteel, she tended to forget how big he was. Looking at him now, she was impressed by his size. He was about six-foot-three, broad across the shoulders, and deep through the chest. His extra weight was well distributed, so, although his abdomen was far from flat, neither was it a flabby gut hanging over his waistband. He looked big and solid and firm. Light brown hair spread across his chest and down his belly. Seren felt an incredible urge to touch him, run her fingers across his chest, drag him behind the lilacs and have her way with him. Instead, she tightened her grip on her basket and waited until he had split another chunk of wood and was tossing the pieces onto a growing pile near the back door.
“Hi!” she said brightly. “Working hard, I see.” She walked over, trying to keep her eyes on his face, although they preferred to wander the unfamiliar terrain of his physique.
He armed sweat from his forehead. “Just keeping busy,” he said. He put another big piece of wood on the chopping block. “I used to do this on my grandma's farm,” he said and swung the axe. “But it's been a long time. I'm going to feel this tomorrow. Or the next day.” He banged the wood against the block to force the axe all the way through. “I've been getting soft.”
“You don't look soft,” she blurted. “You look good.” She could have bitten off her tongue for being so forward.
His eyes smiled at her in a way that made her thankfu
l her hands were busy clutching the pannier. Otherwise, they might have done something inappropriate. “Thank you. You're very kind.”
“Not at all. I'm just telling you what I see.” She stopped herself before she went too far. “I gotta get this inside. Don't work too hard.” She smiled and hastened for the kitchen door. He watched her go, bemused by her reaction, and wondering what it was all about.
Reznik and Devany were assembling sandwiches and putting them on platters. Reznik looked up as Seren, looking quite flushed, came in.
“What's up?” she asked, an impish light dancing in her eyes.
Seren shook her head. “Nothing. Just ran into Daffyd.”
Reznik grinned. “He still chopping wood?” She cut another sandwich into neat triangles.
“Yes. Yes, he is.” Seren turned toward the sink, putting her harvest on the counter.
“Doesn't he look good without a shirt?” She passed the triangles to Devany to arrange on the plate. “I tell you, if he was about twenty-five, maybe thirty years younger—mmmmmmmmm, wouldn't I make a play for that!”
Seren made a non-committal noise, and pumped water into the sink. Reznik continued, “You know, a lot of big men are better with clothes on. See ‘em in a bathing suit or something, and they've got boobs, or beer bellies, or they look like old bread dough. But Daffyd now—he just looks fine. I looked out just when he was taking his shirt off; watching him just about gave me hot flashes. How about you?”
Seren was studying a cabbage for signs of pests, and was washing it carefully. He face felt hot and flushed, and Reznik's comments weren't helping any. She was trying very hard not to think about Daffyd's chest and how it would feel under her hands, or what it would be like to plant a series of kisses across it. Stop it! she scolded herself, and tried to think of other things.
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