They walked in silence, and as they approached the side of the school, the sounds of the band emerged from a cracked-open door. Rowan pulled on Dex’s arm as he made to go to the main entrance. “We go in here.” She opened the side door, and a welcome wave of warmth, light, and music spilled out as they walked in out of the frigid darkness.
“And one, and two, horns go!” A handsome man with dark hair and glasses Dex thought of as “hipster cool” stood in the front of the room, exhorting the group of middle schoolers tootling their way through “St. Louis Blues.” Dex recognized it from his own sojourn in high school jazz band.
The guy himself—Mr. A.—looked familiar for some reason. He smiled over at them, then did a double take at whatever he saw on Rowan’s face. He held up his hand to halt the musicians. “Good. Take it all the way through from the top.” As they began the song again, he came over. “Everything okay, Rowan?”
She shook her head and bit her lip.
Dex supplied the words. “We had an unfortunate incident. Someone broke into my car and stole Rowan’s clarinet.”
“Oh no. That’s terrible!” As Mr. A. frowned in concern, it struck Dex why he looked so familiar.
“Is your last name Alcott, by any chance?”
Mr. A.—or Eddie, as his mother called him—looked at him funny. “Yes.” Then he turned his attention back to Rowan. “Rowan, I’m so sorry. We’ll give you a loaner for tonight. It’s all going to be okay. Here, let’s go back to the instrument room right now and get you set up.” He put his arm around her shoulders and smiled at Dex. “Thanks for bringing her in. I believe you must be the uncle I’ve heard Rowan talk about.”
Mr. A.’s eyes were mesmerizing, so warm and brown and friendly. Dex had the weirdest urge to snuggle on his broad shoulder and be taken care of. He shook himself out of his daze. “Um, yes. I’m Dex. Dex Crawford.”
“I’m Ed Alcott.”
Dex hoped he wasn’t imagining the glint of interest in Eddie’s… Ed’s eyes. “Well, nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from… uh, from Rowan.” He’d caught himself just in time. It was against healthcare regulations to disclose that Ed’s mother had been Dex’s patient. “Thank you for encouraging her in her music.”
Ed’s cheeks got pink. “Oh, she hardly needs encouragement, do you, Rowan? You’re a natural.”
It was Rowan’s turn to blush. “Thanks, Mr. A.”
The band squeaked to a halt. Ed turned to Dex. “Will we be seeing you tonight at the concert?”
Yes, definitely more than a glimmer of interest. I hope. “I wouldn’t miss it. Have a good day, honey. We’ll figure out about getting you a new clarinet, so don’t worry.”
Rowan surprised him by giving him a quick hug. “Bye.”
Dex walked to the door, reluctant to leave this place of light, warmth, and Mr. A.’s brown eyes and cute butt, and go back into the winter gray with a broken car to attend to.
Dex was caught in holiday memories as he clapped along with the other parents after the concert band labored its way to the end of the last piece. His dad used to take him, Jan, and a gaggle of neighborhood kids out Christmas caroling each year. They carried candles stuck in the middle of squares of cardboard so the wax wouldn’t drip on their hands. When someone answered their knock, the whole motley group of kids and a few adults would launch into one of the standard carols like “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” After a circuit of the neighborhood, they’d all go back to Dex’s house, where his mom would make them hot chocolate and he and Jan would fight over who got the most marshmallows. He hadn’t thought about that for years.
The jazz band had been quite good for a middle school, and Rowan had played her solo with nary a squeak on the borrowed clarinet. And Mr. A. had looked cute from the rear as he encouraged the kids.
Clarinet. That reminded him: he needed to buy Rowan a new one, but when he’d looked online, the array of choices daunted him. The good news was he had an excuse for speaking to Ed.
He followed the crowd up the aisle and out to the school lobby. With his goal of “speaking to Ed” as motivation, he crossed the hall and entered the band room. Kids stood everywhere, packing up instruments and shouting about whatever it was middle schoolers shouted about. He didn’t see Rowan, but Mr. A. stood right there, arms full of sheet music, listening patiently as a couple of his students talked to him. The kids seemed so alive, not even trying to be cool.
Ah, there Rowan stood, in a corner by herself, unscrewing her clarinet with a solemn expression on her face. His heart ached. Did she have friends? It seemed like she used to, back in her elementary school days. This past year she’d talked on her phone plenty and had gone to a few birthday parties, but her usual group of girlfriends—what were their names? Gina? Rachel?—seemed to have evaporated.
“Hello there.”
Ed’s voice brought him out of his head. Dex returned his smile. “Hi. Good job with the bands.”
“Thanks. The kids did great tonight. Hard to believe they’ve only been playing together for a few months.”
“Yeah. Amazing.” What was truly amazing was the effect Ed’s kind eyes and lush lips were having on Dex’s body.
“And Rowan was wonderful with her solo. Where is she?” Ed turned to survey the room.
“Um, before she gets over here, I wanted to ask you. I need help picking out a clarinet to replace her other one. I was thinking of getting it for a Christmas present.”
The crinkles around Ed’s eyes when his grin widened gave him an impish air. “That’s nice. I can certainly help you with that.” Two other parents approached him. He added hastily, “E-mail me. Rowan’s got the e-mail address,” before turning to greet them.
Rowan walked up, and Dex held out his arm to her. “Great job on your solo.”
She gave a small smile but evaded Dex’s hug. “I have to put this back in the instrument room.”
“Oh, okay. Meet you in the lobby, then.”
Dex stood for a moment, silent in the middle of the cacophony generated by twenty kids and their parents in a band room. Empty, while so much life was going on around him. Alone, with nothing to do for Christmas.
Then Ed Alcott glanced over at him.
Okay. Maybe not so alone after all.
Chapter 5
The usually sleepy Eugene Airport bustled with activity as Dex helped Rowan check in and get her boarding pass. But the Sunday before Christmas would tend to do that, he thought.
“Here.” Dex handed Rowan a small wrapped gift. “Merry Christmas.” He’d picked up the charm bracelet on their Christmas shopping expedition to the Holiday Market yesterday while Rowan was at another stall selecting Gaga’s gift. Her new clarinet would have to wait until he could consult with Ed Alcott. He’d also made Rowan buy a few things for her father and his family, even though she’d protested, telling her it was the polite thing to do.
“Oh. I… I didn’t get you anything yet. Sorry.” She stashed the gift in her backpack.
“That’s okay. Have a good time with Gaga.”
“Thanks, Uncle Dex.”
This time she allowed him to hug her before going through security. He waited until she was safely on the other side and had been joined by the airline representative who was to escort her onto the plane. She seemed so young all of a sudden, and Dex’s jaw clenched with the need to protect her. All he could do was wave. She waved back briefly, then was gone.
He walked out the front doors of the little airport and headed to his car with the newly installed passenger window. It was gray and misty, a typical winter day in Oregon, and he was at loose ends. He hadn’t heard from Ed, despite adding his phone number to the e-mail message he’d sent him.
Driving home from the airport, Dex veered onto Beltline and took the Coburg Road exit. Man, the traffic was heavy, even for Eugene. Finally he got to a grocery store parking lot, and, yes, there was the Christmas tree stand run by the Boy Scouts that his family had gone to every year to pick out a tree. Not knowi
ng exactly why he was doing it, he parked and ventured over to inspect the trees.
Why would he get a tree now, when Rowan was gone for two weeks? Those two weeks stretched out in front of him as he considered a Douglas fir. Maybe he should have taken Gwen up on her offer and gone with Rowan to DC. He had enough PTO saved up. Work was slow right now anyway. Even people who needed them didn’t want to spend time on physical therapy sessions during the busy holiday season.
“Need any help, sir?” The bright-eyed Boy Scout made him feel 100 years old. When had Dex gotten to the age where “sir” was appropriate?
“No, thanks. Just looking around.”
“Okay. Let me know when you have one picked out.”
Was he doing this? Picking out a tree? He thought of Mrs. Alcott and her cheerful talk about always getting a tree, even the year her husband died. And about the year she got one but didn’t trim it because she was depressed. Funny, she didn’t seem like the type to get depressed. He walked along the Christmas tree-lined path, breathing in the scent of fresh pine. Was he depressed? As if in answer, the rain, which had only been hinting with a soft mist, increased to a more robust downpour.
What the heck, a small tree might be a good thing. He hailed the Boy Scout and pointed to a shorter noble fir with a nice round shape. He helped the kid carry it to the front, where one of the Scout dads cut the lower branches and sawed a slice off the bottom of the trunk. After paying the Scout mom at the till, Dex signed up for them to come haul the tree away after New Year’s Day. The dad and the Boy Scout insisted on carrying the tree to Dex’s car and tying it to the top without Dex’s help, waving away his extra cash.
He stood in the lot, a tree now gracing the top of his car, and realized he had no idea if Jan had a stand or where her ornaments were. Curse you, Mrs. Alcott, he thought and laughed. And like magic, his phone buzzed. When he saw the unfamiliar number, he just knew it was Eddie, her wonderful son.
They discussed the clarinet options and Ed offered to come with him to the local music store to help pick one out. Then he asked what Dex was doing.
“I just dropped Rowan off at the airport. Now I’m standing in the Albertson’s parking lot with a Christmas tree on my car.”
“You got a tree. Excellent.”
Dex watched folks enter and exit the grocery store. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m kind of at a loss about decorating. I don’t know where Jan’s stuff got to.”
“I can help. I have loads of extra ornaments, a stand, everything. Come over and I’ll set you up.”
Of course he did. Ed had Mrs. Alcott for a mother.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll even—. Sorry. Let me know if this is too pushy. I love trimming Christmas trees. So if you want, I can come to your place after we get you the stuff and help you with that. Or is that a bad idea?”
Bad idea? Ed was making everything brighter.
“Not at all. It’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Dex piloted his tree-laden car through the Whiteaker, which had become quite the hipster brew-pub neighborhood since he was a kid, searching for Ed’s house number.
He pulled up in front of a cozy Craftsman-style house, somehow not surprised to see a Christmas tree twinkling in the front window, a wreath on the door, and the porch railing adorned with colorful lights. He was more surprised to find a lump in his throat as he walked up Ed’s sidewalk.
The door opened before he reached it and Ed stood there, a warming sight in his jeans and sweater, his dark hair tumbled over his forehead, his glasses catching the colors of the lights on the railing. “Hello there. Come on in.”
Dex shook the rain off his hoodie as best he could and wiped his feet on the welcome mat, then walked in to Ed’s home. A fire burned in the hearth, over which hung colorful Christmas stockings. The tree in the corner glinted red, blue, green, and white, with ornaments twisting softly from the branches and a small heap of presents underneath. “What? No Christmas music?” Dex joked, noting the soft jazz playing in the background.
“Oh, I have lots of that if you want to hear some.” Ed held out his hand. “Let me take your coat.” He draped it over a chair and said, “How about a cup of tea? Then we can think about getting the tree to your place. Is mint tea okay?”
“Sure.” Dex gazed around as he waited on Ed’s comfortable couch, noting the guitar and saxophone against one wall and the bookcases that ran floor to ceiling. Green plants, too, and some interesting paintings. It was like a mini-Mrs. Alcott’s. He never wanted to leave.
“I’m glad I called.” Ed set the cups of tea on the coffee table, then joined him on the couch.
“Uh, me too. But why exactly?”
“I get to trim another tree! I love decorating for the holidays.” Ed’s brown eyes sparkled behind his glasses.
“That’s good,” Dex said laughingly. “Because I’m not much of a holiday person. My mom and sister were the ones for that.”
“And where is your mom these days?”
“She died about five years ago.” Dex paused and sipped the tea, allowing himself to be warmed by its minty comfort. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was the only one left from his family of four.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I… I know that Rowan’s mom passed last year. She…. Jan was your sister?”
“Yes. There’s just me now. Well, me and Rowan. Dad died a year after Mom.”
Ed regarded him over his teacup as he took a sip, his eyes somber. “That must be hard.”
Dex caught himself about to shrug and stopped. “Yes. It is.” Ed’s kind eyes impelled him to continue. “It’s…. I miss my sister and my folks. And I don’t know what I’m doing, raising a teenage girl. Sometimes I think it’d be better if she went to live with her father, but she doesn’t want that. But at least he has a wife and kids, and Rowan’s close to his mom. They all live in DC. I’d miss her, but she’d have a real family to belong to.”
“And what makes you think you’re not a real family? You and Rowan?”
“I’m Rowan’s gay uncle who doesn’t even know how to decorate for Christmas. Or any holiday. I cook, which is better than nothing, but… I mean, I look around here and you have a real home. Jan’s place is okay, but it’s not like it’s mine, you know?”
“But it’s Rowan’s home from before, right?”
“Yeah. But I have no idea if I’m giving her what she needs. And I don’t know how to make the place we’re living into… like, our home.” Dex paused, surprised at himself and what he was confessing. He hadn’t talked this much about his feelings in… well, pretty much ever. There was something about Ed and his kind face that encouraged confidences.
“You could, though. If you have the desire. You certainly have the love… for Rowan. And she seems to be doing fine. I can tell if the kids I teach are neglected—and I don’t mean physically but emotionally. She’s a typical twelve-year-old and so she’s moody at times, but she’s loved and she knows it.”
Tears came unexpectedly to Dex’s eyes and he turned away. God, he was an emotional mess. But he knew somehow that Ed wouldn’t judge him for it. “Well, anyway, how about we take the damn tree over and get it set up?”
“Sounds good. I’ve got the stand and a box of ornaments over here. Oh, and a bunch of Christmas CDs. You can’t trim a tree without Christmas music. I’ll follow you over in my car. Let’s go.”
“I love it. What do you think?” Ed stood next to Dex, contemplating the tree in Dex’s condo, fully trimmed with Alcott family ornaments and lights. It listed a bit to one side, but it was a bona fide Christmas tree.
Dex detected a nice scent coming from Ed as he stood close to him. He had to restrain himself from leaning in and taking a big sniff. “It’s good.”
“Oh wait.” Ed reached into the box and pulled out a smaller cardboard container. “We need the star.” He removed a gold star-shaped object. It looked like two spray-painted flat stars affixed to a green tube. There were chunky shapes stuck to the star s
urfaces.
“Dude. Is that a toilet paper roll?”
“Um-hm. This is my star I made in preschool. How d’you like the macaroni decorations?”
“It’s… I can’t imagine why your mother doesn’t claim this for her tree.” Dex’s lips tugged into a smile, imagining Mrs. Alcott “ooing” and “ahing” over Eddie’s star.
“She has another one even more hideous that she loves even more.” Ed walked to the tree and reached up to place the star’s tube on the highest vertical branch. “There ya go.” He turned to Dex and made a flourish with his arm. “Ta da!”
“It’s… ah, it’s amazing.” Dex had almost said “adorable,” even though he never used that word out loud. But in all seriousness, the tree was adorable and so was Ed Alcott.
Ed Alcott, who was staring at Dex like he couldn’t tear his eyes off him. “You… you’re very attractive,” he said and blushed.
“Thank you.” Dex took Ed’s hand and tangled their fingers, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ed’s sweet mouth. He pulled away, enjoying the slightly dazed look on Ed’s handsome face. “Let’s turn out the lights except for the Christmas tree. I used to love that when I was a kid.”
The windows looked out onto darkness, and Dex remembered it was winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. But inside, with Ed and Christmas carols on the stereo and the glow of the lights, everything was warm. Dex felt cozier than he had in a long time. Maybe ever.
He and Ed sat on the couch and watched the lights. Dex wondered why he wasn’t moving faster—as in, jumping Ed’s bones. With his pick-ups and fuck buddies in Portland, it had been right to business after establishing who was doing who. But with Ed, he felt like talking.
“Tell me about being a music teacher.”
Ed shifted and sighed. “Well, it keeps me busy. A lot of jazz musicians have second jobs. And I do like directing the kids.”
Happy and Merry: An M/M Holiday Romance Collection Page 2