Anything Could Happen (21 page)

Austin’s heart was speeding up again. “I’m sure.”

The smile grew even more. “Okay, then. I’m in.”

They started to hug, but didn’t. That was good. Austin did need time away from Guy. But he needed something else too. After some time alone, he needed time
with
Guy. Real, quality time.

Then maybe he could figure his life out.

T
HE
drive to Buckman was pleasant and safe, despite the smattering of snow that had chosen to arrive that morning. That was Kansas City weather. Don’t like it? Wait a day. It would change.

Guy drove; it was his car, after all—a deep-blue Ford Fiesta. Austin sat up front, and Uncle Bodie and Lucille were in the back, she in her big princess bed, posing like royalty. Every now and then she would stand up, hind legs in the bed and front feet on the windowsill, watching the turning-white world go by.

They listened to the radio and considered a novel on tape, but Uncle Bodie said he wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to talk.

So they talked—mostly about inconsequential things. Pleasant time-passing talk.

Once they got out of the city, there were great stretches—half an hour at a time or more—of nothing but countryside. When they did pass a town, it was small and zipped past in minutes.

They stopped at a truck stop for lunch. Uncle Bodie insisted they served good food because there was stiff competition with the truckers for business. Sure enough, the food was good. They ate light, though; Gram had made it clear she was making dinner. So it was a Reuben for Guy, beef and gravy over bread for Uncle Bodie (he was sure to save a bit for Lucille), and a patty melt for Austin. It was a sandwich that could be awesome or terrible, depending on who cooked it. Luckily, Uncle Bodie’s advice was sage and the patty melt was delicious, the fries surprisingly so.

“Normally, I would take Lucille a couple,” Uncle Bodie said. “She loves french fries, but not with this seasoning. Good for us, not so much for a little woman.”

Then they were back on the road. Guy insisted he do all the driving. It wasn’t that long a drive after all, Austin conceded. All he needed to do was get in an accident in Guy’s car!

All in all, the drive felt good to Austin. He was surprised how good. Guy had been sweet and friendly the last week, making an effort to give Austin some of his time. He’d been nervous at first, both at the prospect of them
not
talking and spending time together. But things went surprisingly well.

They’d even spent a morning driving around, up and down streets, actually searching for Todd’s old VW van, but no luck. Austin didn’t really expect to find it—Kansas City wasn’t New York or Chicago, but it was huge. Uncle Bodie even told him the Kansas City metropolitan area was bigger than Las Vegas, Salt Lake City, and even Austin’s namesake in Texas.

“It could be looking for a crapping needle in a haystack,” Austin said.

“It could,” Guy said. “Or we could get lucky.”

The trip went well, and the time flew by, and before they knew it, they saw the sign that proclaimed the exit for Buckman was in two miles.
The
exit. Only one.

“And if you miss it,” Uncle Bodie said, “You have to drive eighteen miles before you can turn around and come back.”

“Believe me, it’s true,” Austin added. “Todd and I were coming home one night from a party, and we were high, and we almost missed the next one.”

“High, huh?” Guy asked.

“And you know what they say—”

“What do they say?”

“Drunk drivers kill, stoned drivers just miss their exits!”

Guy burst into laughter. “True. So true.”

“It took us almost an hour extra to get home. Todd got in big trouble.”

“Oh,” Guy said, and stopped laughing.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to get glum,” Austin apologized. “It was out of my mouth before I could stop it.”
I’ve been doing that a lot lately. That’s Todd’s thing. I’m the one who always thinks things through.

Guy pulled off the exit without a hitch, and then Austin was giving directions—left here and right there—and quick as could be, they had pulled up in front of a lovely butter-yellow house.

“It’s beautiful,” Guy said. “For some reason I was expecting it to be… smaller, maybe?”

Just then the front door opened and his grandparents came out onto the porch, Gramps as thin as ever, Austin’s short and stocky grandmother at her husband’s side.

“Austin!” she cried.

“Grams,” he called back and rushed across the lawn (now covered with a least an inch or so of snow) and up the steps into her arms.

Lucille began to bark wildly from the back, unhappy to be left out of this sudden turn of events.

Guy and Uncle Bodie climbed out of the car. Austin and his grandmother were still hugging fiercely, she rocking him in her arms as if he were a man only half his size.

“Bodie! Good to see you,” Austin’s grandfather said.

“Frawley,” he responded. Lucille had been leashed but still barked madly. “Lucille!” He gave a gentle yank. “This is family, girl! That’s my sister and her husband.”

Lucille stopped her vocal assault long enough to look up at her master.

“Don’t you want to make a good impression? They haven’t seen you in a long time.”

She gave a single loud bark, then turned to look at Austin. He could see she was trying not to growl. He bit back a laugh. Ferocious little woman!

Austin’s grandmother had finally stepped back to let her husband get in a hug, and she stepped to the edge of the porch as Uncle Bodie began his slow climb up the four steps.

“Boden,” she said happily. “It is wonderful to see you.”

“Wilda,” he nodded, holding Lucille on a short length of her leash.

Wilda squatted. “And look at you? Aren’t you lovely? So sweet. Lucille?”

Lucille answered.

“I’m Wilda. You can call me Grams. And look at what I’ve got for you.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small dog biscuit.

Lucille shook with excitement, growls and other doggie noises on hold. She had eyes only for the red bone-shaped treat. Wilda handed it over, and Lucille very delicately took it from her and then began to madly munch it down.

This gave Wilda the chance to stand and hug her brother. “Oh, Boden. I have missed you so very much.”

“And I you, dear sister,” he said looking down into her round face.

They both laughed happily and hugged again.

“And who is this?” Wilda asked, giving Austin’s elbow a gentle squeeze and nodding at Guy, who was tentatively approaching the steps. She gave Austin a look, eyes flashing, brows rising and dropping.

Austin’s stomach gave a little flip. “Grams, this is Guy. He’s a friend of mine. Guy, this is my grandmother Wilda.”

“Hello, Mrs. Chandler,” Guy said politely. “Very pleased to meet you.”

“You just call me Grams, you hear?”

“Okay, ah, Grams.”

By then he’d climbed the steps, and she gave him a hug, almost as big as Austin’s.

Guy’s grandfather stepped forward. “And this,” Austin said with a nod, “is my grandfather, Frawley Chandler.”

Frawley reached out his hand and Guy took it. “Pleased to meet you,” he said to the older gentleman.

“Likewise, I’m sure. And call me Gramps, please.”

“Gramps,” Guy said with a nod.

“Austin, you and Guy get your luggage while I take Boden inside. We don’t want to freeze out here, and you aren’t gonna want to go back out in this once you’re all comfortable inside. Don’t forget to kick off your shoes.” Then she grabbed her grandson again and hugged him once more. “So is this a friend, or a
friend?
” she whispered in his ear.

“Just a friend,” Austin said and blushed to the roots.

“Too bad,” she said as she let him go. She stared after Guy, who was back at the car and opening the trunk. “He is
very
good-looking.”

“Grams!”

She giggled. “What? A grandmother wants her boy to be happy!” She laughed and guided her brother into the house, Lucille now much more cheerful and dancing at their feet.

Still pink, Austin joined Guy and helped him bring in the suitcases. “Whatever you do,” Austin told Guy and pointed at two rubber mats on the floor, lined with about four pairs of shoes. “Don’t ever forget to kick them off.”

Guy stiffened. “I don’t know what my feet smell like, Austin.”

“Weren’t you taught to wear clean socks and underwear in case you were ever in an accident?” Austin asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” Guy answered. “But we had the heat blasting on our feet, and as for the underwear….” He leaned in. “I freeball it.”

Austin’s eyes popped, and Guy grinned. He then joined Austin in toeing off his shoes to join those on the rubber mats. The immediate scent of man rose to meet them. Guy groaned.

Austin grinned, and before Guy could protest, dragged him through the foyer and into the house.

T
HEY
were all sitting around the dining room table, and it was laden with food: chicken, a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and a platter of big puffy rolls. There was plenty for everyone, and they filled their plates and stuffed themselves. Everything was delicious.

“Mrs. Chan—ah—
Grams
,” said Guy. “This is the best gravy I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Aren’t you just about as sweet as syrup on pancakes?” She grinned a huge one, and gave him a wink. “Austin, you better keep an eye on this one,” she said.

“Grams,” he hissed. Awkward! Did she have to do this? He wasn’t expecting this kind of teasing. Accepting, yes, but crap, she didn’t have to embarrass them all. He spared a glance at Guy, who only shrugged and grinned back.
Oh you!
he wanted to shout.

“And what is it you do?” Frawley asked Guy while scooping out a second helping of mashed potatoes.

“Well,” Guy answered. “I wear a lot of hats. I work for the Pegasus Theatre. I direct, act, help with grants—even answer phones and work the box office.”

“Grants?”

“Yes.” Guy nodded. “The Pegasus depends on grants, and many of them are provided by the community. We have major sponsors, some pretty impressive names by the way, as well as from individuals. Our patrons keep us going.”

“Guy is writing a play himself,” said Austin. He took a big bite of his third roll. Lord, he had missed Gram’s rolls.

“What kind of play?” Wilda sat back. “What’s it about?”

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Austin said, jumping in. “He doesn’t want to jinx it.”

“Oh, really, now?” Wilda asked.

“It’s about people,” Guy said. “Five people and how they react to a circumstance they’re thrown into.”

Austin raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you just keep the rest to your ownself,” she replied. “Don’t want to jinx it. I know all about jinxin’, don’t I, Frawley?”

Her husband nodded. “We both do.”

“When you get it done and are ready to show your play, you let us know, okay?” She stood and picked up her empty plate. “Maybe we’ll come an’ see it.”

Guy gave a nod, and gave Austin a big-eyed stare.

This time it was Austin’s turn to shrug.

Wilda asked for empty plates, and Austin asked her to sit down. “You made dinner. It’s my job to clear the table.”

“Not when you’re a guest,” she declared. “You stay right where you are. Tomorrow I’ll be needin’ lots a help.”

Austin stayed put while the empty plates were passed down.

“Is it okay for Lucille to have somethin’ from the table?” Wilda asked.

“A little gravy over her dry food is all,” Uncle Bodie said. He rose from the table, and Lucille, knowing she was being talked about, got up and walked to his side. “I’ll get some. It’s her dinnertime too.” He left the room.

“Dessert?” Wilda asked. “I hope you left room.”

“Lord, Mrs.—Grams.” Guy rolled his eyes. “I’m stuffed fuller than a tick.”

“Well, there is always room for Jell-O,” she declared and left the room.

“Austin…,” he said.

“Don’t argue,” Austin replied. “It won’t do any good.”

What she brought back wasn’t what Guy had expected—Austin could see that. She placed a plate with a big piece of pie. The Jell-O, mixed with whipped cream, was only one layer. Guy gave it a big-eyed look of surprise. “What? You thought it was that crap they serve in high school cafeterias?” she asked. “Would I do that, Austin?”

“No ma’am,” he replied.

“Try it,” she ordered.

Austin shook his head, and took the fork she offered. He cut off a bite-sized piece, popped it in his mouth, and then sighed blissfully. “Oh wow. It tastes like a Dreamsicle,” he said. “My favorite when I was a kid.”

She smiled serenely and left the room. “Finish that roll, Austin! I’m gettin’ you some.”

He smiled contentedly. As he told Guy—there was no arguing. And as happy as he was finding himself in Kansas City, there really was no place like home.

After Lucille’s meal had been taken care of and everyone was done—Guy had a second helping of pie, despite his claim that he was full—Wilda announced they should go ahead and take their luggage to their rooms. “Boden, you’re in the guest bedroom upstairs.”

Uncle Bodie took his small case up the stairs with him, and Austin promised to bring Lucille’s bed up in a moment. Wilda asked the “boys” to “come this way,” and led them into the kitchen and the door to the basement. “I put you two downstairs,” she said and headed down with them following after.

“Where?” Austin asked. “I took all my furniture with me.”

“You remember Miss Flora?” she asked him.

“Sure.”

“Well, her granddaughter Abby got married last month, and she sold her bedroom suite. It’s as pretty as can be and just perfect for you two. And not too girly.” They reached the bottom of the stairs, and she took them around the corner where Austin had had his bedroom for years. Having it at that end gave him some privacy. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was there. Oh, it was nice all right. White dresser, end tables, desk, and a bed.

One bed.

“Ah—Grams. Ah….”