Wedding Season

by Mark Abramson

  All Tim knew anymore that night was that life had led him to this moment in time and it felt just right. The last thing he remembered was the sound of the Russian River trickling far below them, bubbling over and under the logs and rocks that got in its way on its journey to the sea. Within a few moments they had fallen into a deep dreamless sleep, all three of them.

  A sneak peek at Chapter 1

  from

  Mark Abramson’s

  California Dreamers

  Book 6 of the Beach Reading series

  Chapter ONE

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  Tim Snow smiled, switched off the computer and went to bed. He sometimes wondered when he was younger whether he would grow up to become one of those people who told fortunes for a living. He knew he’d inherited “the gift” from his grandmother on his mother’s side, but he thought of it like a propensity for brown hair or big feet and he barely remembered his grandmother anyway. Besides his so-called “gift,” all he had of her was the photograph of the two of them that he kept in a frame on his bedside table. His parents seemed embarrassed to talk about her when he was growing up and Tim knew better than to ask many questions.

  Ever since Dr. Hamamoto prescribed the new HIV drugs, Tim’s dreams had grown stronger. He’d been spared any frightening visions lately; at least while he was awake. One night he dreamed that Congress passed a law prohibiting gays from adopting pets. The authorities were already taking dogs away from lesbian couples to euthanize them—the dogs, not the lesbians—rather than let them grow up without proper male role models. Tim wasn’t sure how this affected the rest of the country, but the dog owners he saw every week in Dolores Park were up in arms.

  The Bay Times ran an interview with a woman prisoner, convicted of sleeping with her German shepherd. She denied having “improper” relations, though they would have been heterosexual by definition and consensual, she insisted. The headline in the B.A.R. that week read: Playing it straight to walk the dog. The Chronicle interviewed a widowed grandmother in Daly City whose late husband had rented the apartment over their garage to a gay student. Authorities took away her fifteen-year-old cat. She admitted that she missed Puddles, but she’d always voted Republican because it was the party of God. Now she was leaning more toward the Tea Party. She was quoted, “If Congress says the cat has to go; then the cat has to go. I’m no terrorist!”

  Tim woke up laughing. This dream was during an afternoon nap and he couldn’t believe it foreshadowed anything real, the way his nighttime dreams sometimes did. He took his HIV drugs at bedtime. He even had nightmares lately where his phoned was tapped; he heard footsteps on the sidewalk behind him and felt someone’s eyes follow him down Castro Street. He was sure that his mail, even the PG&E bill, had been steamed open and sealed shut again.

  Tim and Nick’s new puppy named Buck, like a child of divorced parents, was adapting well to life with two homes and two fathers. His parents may not have the right to marry, but they loved each other very much. Nick Musgrove took Buck for long runs on the beach near Jenner where he got to sniff the rotting fish, kelp, and other culinary treats of the Pacific. Weekends at Tim’s house on Hancock Street in San Francisco meant learning to socialize with other dogs in Dolores Park. Nick came down to the city on Thursday afternoons or Friday if he was busy at the nursery. Tim usually drove his old Thunderbird convertible up to the Russian River after the Sunday brunch shift at Arts restaurant on Castro Street.

  Buck drew a lot of attention wherever he went. Now Tim understood why he saw so many dogs in the Castro; they provided the perfect opening if you wanted to talk to someone. Tim was sure that some of the other single dog owners trained their pets to run up and sniff at the crotches of the cutest guys. Tim felt more and more that he and Nick were “married,” whether or not they had a ceremony or any legal documents. Even so, there were tempting times when the handsome dog walkers on the neighborhood sidewalks offered much more than talk of breeding and training.

  On Saturday morning, Tim and Nick took Buck to meet Tim’s Aunt Ruth. She had been living in Tim’s old apartment on Collingwood Street and working part-time at the restaurant, but she finally married her wealthy lover Sam Connor and moved to his estate in Hillsborough. This was the first time Tim and Nick had been down the peninsula since Ruth and Sam returned from their honeymoon. Tim barely turned off the engine when Buck jumped from Nick’s lap and bounded out of the car. “Buck, get back here!” Nick scolded and said to Tim, “It was my own fault for not holding onto him tighter, but I hate to see him get in the habit of running off like that. You might have the top down sometime when you’re stuck in traffic and he’d think it was okay to jump out of the car!”

  “Hello, boys!” Sam came toward them from the direction of the tennis courts. He crouched as Buck ran toward him and Sam’s face became the object of a generous coating of canine saliva. “What have we here?”

  “Hi, Sam!” Tim shouted. “That’s Buck.”

  “He’s a friendly little guy, I’ll say that for him.”

  Nick postponed his intended scolding when Ruth appeared and she got more kisses from Buck. “What an adorable little fellow you are! Yes, you are!” She scooped up the puppy and handed him back to Sam so that she could give hugs to the boys and take the bundle of paper from under Tim’s arm, “Thanks for picking up my mail. I put in a change of address, but I guess they’re not going to forward the weekly specials from the supermarket or these catalogues. Look, Sam, there’s a big sale on children’s clothes at Macy’s. She and Sam smiled at some private joke between the two of them before she turned back to the boys. “I’m glad we’re past the age of having to worry about having children,” she went on, “and I’m delighted both of you could come down for lunch today. It won’t be nearly as tasty as when Delia was here, but we’ll make do.”

  “As I remember, you’re a very good cook, Aunt Ruth,” Tim said. “You were always trying out new recipes and pushing them on Uncle Dan and me when I lived with you in Edina. I think you were trying to fatten us up.”

  “It worked on Dan,” she said, “but that was a long time ago. Sam has been after me to hire a new cook ever since we got back from our honeymoon, but I’m having fun doing the cooking myself. I’ve never lost my curiosity about trying new things.” Ruth put one hand around Sam’s neck and nuzzled his ear with her lips.

  “I’m not complaining, dear.” Sam smiled and hugged her. Tim tried not to look.

  They walked through the formal front entrance of the Tudor-style house and through a cavernous hallway toward the kitchen. Tim accepted that they were newlyweds, but this was his Aunt Ruth, after all! She was an attractive middle-aged woman, but he didn’t want to picture her doing it. Tim had to admit that he and Nick were visitors to Sam’s estate, now Ruth’s home too, but if he and Nick could be discreet about their sex lives, why couldn’t straight people?

  “I’m sure whatever you make will be great,” Nick said. He didn’t notice Tim’s discomfort. “We’re not fussy and I’m starved.”

  “Good,” Sam said. “It’s going to be simple. I was waiting for you to arrive before I p
ut these burgers on the grill.” He set a pitcher of iced tea on the poolside table as Tim and Nick sat down in padded wrought-iron chairs. “What time is it? I must have left my watch in the bedroom.”

  “Twelve-oh-five on the dot,” Ruth called from the kitchen.

  “Would you boys like something stronger than tea?” Sam asked, filling tall glasses with ice from the poolside bar. “How about a beer or a Bloody Mary… Nick?”

  “Not for me, thanks. Iced tea is fine.”

  “I have to work tonight,” Tim said.

  Ruth carried out a large tray loaded with buns, condiments, chips and a bowl of potato salad. “How are things going at the restaurant without me?” she asked Tim.

  “Okay, I guess,” her nephew replied. “Everyone misses you, especially Artie and me… and the customers always ask if you’re ever going to set foot in there again.”

  “We’ll have to stop in one of these days, Sam,” she said. “No, Buck, that’s not for you. What should I fix for this little guy? Is it okay if he has a corn chip? They’re organic.”

  “Maybe just some water,” Nick said. “I’ll get his bowl out of the car.”

  “How about tomorrow?” Ruth asked. “Sam, you’re overdue for a visit with your grandkids and I could stop in and surprise Artie and Arturo. We’re coming into the city tonight for dinner anyway.”

  Buck stood on his hind legs and waited for her to drop the chip in his mouth. Ruth turned to Tim and said, “Sam wants to show me off to some old friends of his and make sure they approve.”

  Sam put his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck. “It’s too late now if they don’t. If we’re spending the night in town, I should call the Fairmont and see if our favorite room is available.”

  ”I have an even better idea, Sam. Let’s spend the night in my old apartment on Collingwood and take the whole family to brunch tomorrow?”

  “Whatever you say, darling…”

  “I’ll call Ben and Jane this afternoon and see if it’s good for them,” Ruth said. “Don’t tell anyone, Tim. I want it to be a surprise.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Tim promised and in spite of being leery of the honeymoon subject, he asked, “How was your trip? The card from Spain was postmarked three weeks ago, but it arrived yesterday. How is it being back in California and living as a respectable married woman?”

  “It feels wonderful,” she answered.

  “It was great,” Sam added. “It was so nice to be in Europe and not have to think about work for a change. To be honest with you, I was afraid my new bride would be bored when we got back. You can only have so many games of tennis and laps in the pool and horseback rides in the hills. I hope you boys brought your swimsuits.”

  “I’m never bored. You know me,” Ruth assured him. “I feel a little guilty, though. How many women my age fall into a life with a man they adore and such a lovely home? One of these days, I’m going to take up a hobby or maybe find some volunteer work and give something back to the world.”

  “Do you have anything in mind?” Nick asked. He was squeezing ketchup onto his hamburger and relieved that Buck was chasing squirrels up a tree beyond the gardener’s shed instead of begging at the table.

  “When I lived in the city and was tending bar at Arts, I used to walk by that little shop, Under One Roof, all the time.” Ruth poked at her salad. “That’s the place where the proceeds go to AIDS causes. I’ve often stopped in to buy gifts and thought about volunteering a few hours of my time, but never got around to it and I was right there across the street! Now I’m all the way down here and I just don’t know… I should see if there’s anything I’m qualified to do at the local humane society. I’ve always loved animals.”

  “That’s a fine idea, dear,” Sam said. “There’s always something we can do to help the less fortunate, whether they’re two-legged or four. All I seem to find time for is writing the occasional check at Christmas.”

  “Nick donates merchandise from the nursery and he helps out with Face to Face, the Sonoma County AIDS organization,” Tim said. “I’m the one who should do more.”

  “There’s no reason not to, is there?” Ruth asked. “Take some time to think about what you’d be good at, Tim. Then have a look around. Something will fall right into your lap and I’ll bet you could set aside a few hours a week you won’t even miss. That’s what I intend to do.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.” Tim leaned over to pet the dog.

  “You don’t have to change the world, you know. You’d be surprised how much a smile or a kind word can do to make someone’s day. Maybe one small action can put a whole chain of events into motion that will make a huge difference. You must remember that old woman in Minneapolis, don’t you, Tim?”

  “Huh?” Tim was thinking about whether he would have time for a nap before work tonight.

  “She left a fortune in her will to the neighbor boy just because he was thoughtful enough to put her newspaper through the mail slot on rainy days instead of throwing it from his bicycle to the front door. I don’t mean that you should do good works for any monetary reason, of course.” Ruth laughed and reached over to stroke Sam’s chin with her fingertips before she went on, “Sam could have been as poor as a church mouse and I still would have married him… just as long as he had this handsome face and so many other wonderful attributes.”

  “I said I’d think about it!” Tim was afraid his Aunt Ruth was going to start talking about their sex life again, but she poured some more iced tea and changed the subject.

  Back in the city that night, Tim had dreams about sweating over a steam table in a soup kitchen. He looked terrible in a hair net and couldn’t imagine that this dream had any meaning except that he’d fallen asleep during a documentary on the History Channel about the Great Depression. He was an adequate cook, but only because he picked up a few pointers when he lived with his Aunt Ruth and later from working in a restaurant. He couldn’t envision helping humanity with his culinary talents. What was he good at? He rolled over and nuzzled up to Nick’s naked body. There had to be something besides that, too. He fell back to sleep.

  When he thought about his dream later, it seemed so real. Nick had to head back to Sonoma County early because there were a couple of stops to make on his way to the nursery, but it was still before sunrise. Tim could let him sleep another half hour. Tim and Buck would drive up in the Thunderbird after the brunch shift at Arts.

  Tim slipped into a pair of running shorts, put coffee on to brew, opened the sliding glass doors onto his deck and sat down on the redwood bench. Buck scampered after him, made three counter-clockwise circles and settled between Tim’s bare feet. It was one of those rare quiet moments in the city. The only sound was a fly buzzing past Tim’s ear and then the distant engine of a small plane. Then a shower nozzle hissed in the house next door and a tenor voice singing an aria emerged with the steam out the bathroom window. Someone’s trash clattered down a garbage chute, the J-Church streetcar whooshed up the hill beside Dolores Park and a siren filled the air. For some reason it reminded Tim of bagpipes and he wondered if deaf people would be happy to know they were missing out on the annoyance of ambulances and fire trucks. All in all, Tim was glad to be alive. The coffee was done and it was time to wake Nick, so he went back inside.

  Tim should have known he was dreaming when the clock jumped ahead to 4 p.m. He was dead tired after brunch, but he’d promised Nick he would drive up to Monte Rio tonight. Buck had seemed fine about being left alone for a few hours while Nick was at work, but the further they went in the car, the more agitated he became. By the time they approached the Golden Gate Bridge the dog had scrambled up from the floor onto the passenger’s seat and started barking.

  “What is it, boy?” Tim asked and tried to pet him. “Do you need to stop already? I thought you did your business before we left home.” The puppy kept spinning around, jumping down under the dashboard and back up onto the seat and he kept on barking. Tim had never seen him like this.

>   “Settle down, Buck!” Tim was getting riled now. Traffic on the bridge was heavy. Only two northbound lanes were open with so many weekenders returning to the city. Tim was angry at himself for not putting the top up, rather than risk Buck jumping out again. Nick had warned him about that just the other day, but he couldn’t stop now in the middle of the bridge. It was sure to be hot on the other side of the rainbow tunnel, anyway. “I’ll pull over in a minute, boy. Hold on!”

  Tim was in the slower right lane in bumper-to-bumper traffic. A beat-up camper jerked and sputtered and burned oil in Tim’s face. There was no place to stop before the scenic overlook at the north end of the bridge. Before he could grab Buck, the puppy leapt out and started running. “Buck! Get back here! Stop, dammit! Where do you think you’re going?”

  Tim was furious! He had to wait for a parking space to open up. By the time he grabbed the leash and leapt from the car himself, Buck was out of sight. Tim ran back toward the bridge as fast as he could until he could finally see a speeding ball of brown fur barreling down the pedestrian walkway. He tried whistling, but the sound flew away on the wind. Buck seemed to be chasing someone he knew, but he was only a puppy. Who else could he know? Nick was already miles from here. “Buck! What is the matter with you? Come back here!”

  Now Tim saw the stranger in a charcoal gray suit. The man kept running with Buck at his heels. They were halfway to the north tower when the man set something down on the walkway. Then he climbed onto the rail and jumped, as gracefully as an Olympic high diver. Tim yelled, “Buck! Come back here!”

  A bridge employee arrived from the opposite direction at the same time as Tim. He stepped off his motorized cart and asked, “Did you know the jumper?”

  “I didn’t even see his face,” Tim shook his head and clipped the leash to Buck’s collar, “but this is my dog.” Tim peered over the railing at a white sailboat gliding through blue water toward the St. Francis Yacht Club and a Norwegian tanker headed out to sea, but there was no sign of a human being. Then Tim realized that Buck was still standing guard over a briefcase the man had left behind. Gold lettering was embossed on the side: C. B. Harriman.