Promise Rock 03 - Living Promises (MM) (39 page)

Ambrose nodded, as though conceding the same thing, then looked at Jeff. “That kid,” he said after another thoughtful, awkward minute, “the one you called Sir Galahad?”
Jeff tried not to stiffen. “Yeah?”
“Isn't he a little young for you?”
Jeff fought against a giggle, turned it into a chuckle, and then set it free. “Yeah, yeah he is. But so was Kevin. That didn't stop either of them from being bossy little shits, you know?”
Ambrose gave a frustrated sigh. “Do I know about bossy little shits? I'm out here because Martin refuses to take orders—what in the hell do you think?”
Jeff swallowed. “I think you'd be surprised at how mature Martin's become these last months.” Good. They were talking about Martin now—right where the conversation needed to be. “He practically kept Collin's garage running for the last two weeks when Collin was sick.” That was somewhat of an overstatement—Joshua had done most of it, with a lot of help from Shane, but Martin had been there, too, and it seemed like a stellar conversational gambit. It must have worked, too, because Ambrose perked up a little.
“He has? Well… I
would
like to hear about that.”
Jeff heard Shane and Crick both give little sighs next to him, and he felt some of the steel seep out of his spine as well. “Come inside, Mr. Turner. Have some dinner. You've been on a plane most of the day—sit down on my couch and meet some nice people. The apartment's crowded to the gills with folks who would like to tell you about Martin. Won't you please come and listen?”
Ambrose Turner grunted and shrugged—and then let Jeff lead the way. As soon as they cleared the door, Martin greeted his father with a hug, a fierce one, that was returned quietly, and in kind.
Then Martin took his father's hand and said, “Come on in, Pops— meet everyone. I'll get you a plate of food. They're really nice here, I swear.”
T
HEY
didn't all hold hands and sing Kumbaya by the end of the night. Ambrose Turner didn't suddenly become a card-carrying, rainbow-flagwaving member of PFLAG. Jeff didn't sit down and find a replacement father figure for the man who had been trying to contact him from Coloma for the past three weeks. In fact, Ambrose spent most of his time talking to Lucas and Kimmy, or Andrew and Benny, then Jon and Amy, and finally, Joshua, Natalie, and Collin's oldest sister, Joanna: in short, anyone who wasn't gay by any way, shape, form, or stretch of the imagination, and who couldn't push the comfort zone of a Baptist virgin, much less a happily married father of five.
He must have bitten off the words “faggot,” “queer,” or “homo” eight to twelve times a piece. It would be
years
, if
ever
, before he and Jeff had the same kind of talk about Kevin that Jeff and Martin managed.
He almost choked on his tongue when he walked around a corner and found Shane dropping a kiss in Mikhail's hair after Mikhail made sure that Shane wasn't involved in a fight. He almost choked on it again when he caught Collin whispering in Jeff's ear. He didn't catch Deacon or Crick, because they were so good at holding themselves like cowboys that they managed not to scandalize anyone in public, but when Jon and Amy started talking about the two weddings at Promise Rock, he had to excuse himself. The little girls found him a few minutes later, hiding in the bathroom and petting the cats and sneezing up a storm.
But he didn't yell at anyone to stop it. And he didn't grab Martin by the arm and haul him out. And he did listen to the stories about Martin learning a trade. And he did actually
hear
that his son had been helpful and kind during a time of great trouble.
And he did show approval as Martin talked excitedly about horses, and cars, and the people at Promise House, and why he was grateful for his family.
And he looked quietly, without anger, at the picture of Jeff and his dead son, looking very, very happy for maybe the last time in Kevin's life.
And in the end he did shake Jeff's hand as he left and thank him for the dinner.
And in the end, he did let Martin stay for Christmas.
It was more than Jeff had hoped for, but not too much to ask. C
HRISTMAS
was simply lovely. The family was healthy. There was food and gifts, and even hidden chances for Collin and Jeff to sneak off and have bang-out monkey sex a couple of times. The best part of that was that they always managed to turn it into making love instead.
Two nights before Christmas, Martin, Collin, and Jeff sat around Jeff's kitchen table and wrapped gifts for all of their family, including the Doc and Mrs. Herberts, who were thrilled to meet Martin the next day, and talked.
They talked about Christmases past and the wonderful things their parents had done to please them as children. They talked about favorite gifts and things they had wanted more than anything in the world but didn't seem as important now as the fact that someone loved them enough to give them that gift on Christmas morning.
They talked about Kevin.
Martin talked about how his older brother used to take his own money and buy each of his brothers and sisters something that he knew they wanted, but that his parents disapproved of. When Martin was nine, Kevin bought them all their first video game system—it was the last Christmas gift Kevin ever sent.
“I think,” Martin said quietly, dangling a piece of fancy ribbon for Katy to bat at, “that he was trying to tell us that maybe what my folks approved of wasn't everything in the world, you know?”
Jeff smiled a little. He should have guessed about the secret subversive in Kevin. The fact that the man hit on Jeff while pretending to “teach him a lesson” should have made
that
obvious enough. So in turn, he told about how they first met, and Collin chortled (and admired Kevin's move), and Martin laughed until he dropped Katy's ribbon (she was ignoring it anyway) and put his head in his arms and just let it go.
When he was done laughing, he sat up and wiped a little at his eyes and said, “What happened when he came back?”
Jeff blushed. “Oh, kid, I don't think you'll
ever
be comfortable enough to hear that part of it, you think?”
“I thought you walked around and talked for a while,” Collin said thoughtfully, and Jeff blushed even further.
“Well, yeah. But the night still ended up in my apartment!” Martin made a “woot!” sound, and Jeff grinned, still blushing, and said, “Thank you. I'm glad you approve.”
Martin looked embarrassed. “I do,” he mumbled, picking up his next gift from the pile. “I approve of all the good you could give him, right? Is there any more of Margie's fudge left—hey! Get off of me!”
“It's a hug, kid—no strings attached.”
Martin returned it, briefly, because he was fourteen, and then stood up, rolled his eyes, and went looking for the last of the soy-fudge.
Collin reached around the table and grabbed Jeff's hand and kissed it, and Jeff moved into him and bent down and kissed
him.
“What's that for?” Collin asked, his lean mouth quirked up a little at the sides and his brown eyes soft.
“A different sort of approval.”
Collin's grin was blinding. “So I made the grade?”
“Every damned day. Twice on Christmas.”
“Excellent. I worked hard on that!”
“I hope I was worth the effort,” Jeff said soberly, and Collin planted his big, wide-palmed hand on the back of Jeff's head and pulled him in for a kiss.

T
HE
day after Christmas they put Martin on a plane with hugs and a few tears and an admonition to text and e-mail often (which he did, after New Year's) and a promise to fly him out during the summer, with his parents' permission, so he could intern for Collin because he loved it.

Lucas stayed in Levee Oaks, which was nice, because when Jeff, Crick, Mikhail, and Kimmy met to knit the next day, Jeff and Kimmy no longer got to sound like the dried-up old spinsters that they had been two months earlier, and Kimmy's smiles were just a little bit softer as well.

The day after that, Jeff and Collin went up to Coloma to visit Jeff's mother for Christmas. She didn't remember Collin, but enjoyed her See's candy and hand-knit socks very, very much. Jeff's father was in the room and, much like Ambrose, managed to keep his mean-assed opinions to himself. Jeff caught up on the Porters and the Masons and the Beachums and told his father to give them all his regards. His father learned for the first time that his son had HIV. He looked really, really sad when he heard that, and he put his hand on Jeff's shoulder for just a moment as Jeff talked to his mother about the fact that he was doing fine. Jeff allowed the touch, acknowledged it with a pat of his hand, and then kissed his mother's cheek goodbye. Then he turned, shook Archie Beachum's hand, and left.

Much like Martin's father, it wasn't holding hands and singing Kumbaya, but it was seeing his mother once a month and maybe making it to dinner with his father next time, and it was a start.

Collin held his hand on the way out, and when they got to that fabulously gaudy, big-dick Camaro in the sedate old-people's parking lot, he turned Jeff around and hauled him in for a hug that made Jeff yearn.

“Oh, God, it's an hour and a half back down the hill,” Jeff groaned, resting his forehead against Collin's and panting.
“Yeah, Jeffy, but you know what, right?”
Jeff pointed his chin sideways and smiled shyly up at Collin from under his eyelashes. “We have the apartment to ourselves?”
Collin's grin was diabolical. “I'm going to have so much fun making you scream.”
They both had fun—and Jeff
did
scream. And then they kissed, naked, alone and together, and Jeff thought that family was nice, but
this
sort of family was even better.
“God, Sparky, I'm glad you didn't quit,” he said when he pulled up for air.
“God, Jeff, I'm glad you gave me a chance,” Collin echoed, rolling his eyes a little while he twined his naked, hairy legs with Jeff's.
“So, when are you moving in?” Jeff asked casually, like his heart wasn't in his mouth. It wasn't as though Collin had been back to his apartment more than a handful of times since he'd recovered, but this was more than that, and by Collin's slow, leonine blink, he knew it.
“When we find a place together in Levee Oaks,” Collin responded after a short pause.
Jeff looked around. “You don't like the condo? It's got a pool and a weight room!”
“We can afford our own pool, Jeff, and our own weight room, and another bedroom so we can have three cats, maybe, or even a dog, and enough space between us and the neighbors that I can
really
make you scream.”
Jeff blushed, felt his cock swell where it was trapped between his groin and Collin's lean hip. “You think I'm holding back for the neighbors?”
Collin's grin was evil. “I'd sure like to find out.”
“So, a house?”
“Yeah.”
“In Levee Oaks, the anti-gay capitol of the Northern California bible belt.”
“Yeah.” Collin smirked but held firm.
“That's quite a promise.”
“Hey—I loved you through the flu, baby. You owe me.”
“Isn't that the other way around?” Not that Collin had been a bad patient, ever, but still.
“I was delirious—I could have confused you with David Beckham—you ever think of that?”
“Oh shut up.” Jeff half-laughed his way through his anxiety. “Yeah, well, maybe living is our biggest promise anyway. Sure, let's find a house. It'll be fun. Con and Katy won't know what to do with themselves. We may have to get another cat just to give them something to whomp on.”
“Yeah?” Collin said, his entire body vibrating with excitement. “You know, for gay people in California, buying a house is like a wedding ceremony, right?”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Sparky, you think
that's
a wedding ceremony, then what Shane and Mikhail are doing in February is
really
going to float your boat.”
“Yeah? What's happening in February?”
Jeff just laughed and kissed him, because he was dear and perfect, and they were buying a house together, and planning for February would come soon enough.

T
HE
gods must have been smiling on Shane and Mikhail that day, because after pissing down rain for a week, there was actually sunshine the day before and the day of their sweet little wedding ceremony out on Promise Rock.

It had been nearly a year since Jeff had been to Promise Rock, and there had been some changes made in that time since Shane had taken over the adjoining property to Deacon's for Promise House. The first thing Shane had done was clear out all of the overgrowth and make sure the snake population was managed. Unlike Deacon, who had favored potbellied pigs as a first defense and a shotgun as a last resort, Shane had simply had a local wildlife society come and get them all. (He had no idea what they did with them, as long as it was legal, humane, and Mikhail didn't have to see a single scale, rattle, or flickering tongue.)

The other thing he'd done was have the service road that Deacon used as a kid all scraped and graveled. When guests came to Shane and Mikhail's wedding, they drove down a nice, maintained gravel road instead of a ruthless piercer of tires and gobbler of axles, and Jeff told Collin that this alone was a great improvement.

The guests parked on Shane's side of the little swimming hole and walked through a cattle gate, now propped open, and across a rise before venturing down to the little corner of the world that used to belong to Deacon and his father alone.

Kimmy was there to greet them, her lithe dancer's body sheathed in a long, ruby-red dress with a white wool coat and her long, brownblonde hair recently streaked and hanging down her shoulders and back in big, full spirals. Lucas was with her, wearing a dark wool suit with a crimson tie to match the woman he so obviously adored.

Jeff greeted her by taking both hands in his and kissing her cheek, because she was lovely, and because the occasion called for it.
“How you doin', heifer? You look scrumptious.”
Kimmy gave him a watery smile. “I'm fine,” she said, her voice a little throatier than usual. “Aw, fuck. I'm going to be a mess when Jon's talking. Shane's just worked so hard, you know? He so totally deserves this, and so does Mickey—”
“You get to call him Mickey?” Collin asked from behind Jeff's shoulder.
“Sister-in-law privileges,” Kimmy said seriously. “I asked. Wow, Collin, you clean up pretty!”
Jeff had helped Collin pick out his brown pinstriped suit. It had wide lapels and a tawny gold tie, and the kid looked sharp as hell. Jeff had gone with classic black, because the two of them didn't do the twin thing, but that didn't stop them from holding hands as they were escorted down the rise and over the narrow part of the feeder stream that had been converted to irrigation farther away from the levee.
The curve of the stream formed a wide, deep spot that had been used as a swimming hole for years. At the edge of the swimming hole, forming a sort of hollow, was a big granite boulder surrounded by its smaller brothers, interspersed with a stand of oak trees. In the summer, the hollow was nice because the shade by the stream was about fifteen degrees cooler than the surrounding grasslands, which were usually scorched and brown starting around May.
In the winter, the grasses were green and had been freshly cut, both on The Pulpit side and the Promise House side. It would have been unbearably cold, except Deacon had thought to rent some gas-powered heaters—the tall kind that looked like lamps—to stand in a semi-circle around the biggest boulder.
Jeff understood that this was the third wedding that had taken place at Promise Rock, and that near the boulder was where people stood.
“They decorated,” Jeff said with a smile.
He had been to the second wedding that had been held there, and it had been lovely. When Deacon and Crick had been married—much to Deacon's surprise—the family had stood around the couple in a loose circle while the newly ordained Jon-the-Unitarian-minister had conducted the ceremony. Shane and Mikhail had modeled their wedding after that one a little, with some added touches that were exclusively them.
Besides the standing heaters, which were very appreciated in the shade, where the ground was still frosty even at one in the afternoon, there were red-and-white standing bouquets and big, red, indoor/outdoor carpet spread on the ground. The fold-up chairs by the document signing tables were the same, but the rich white-and-red flowers were there too. (So was a random assortment of blankets, neatly folded, that Jeff was pretty sure the guests would appreciate after the ceremony.) The kids from Promise House stood attentively at the documents and a guest book, most of them armed with disposable cameras as well. Shane had obviously bought them new clothes—and given them duties. They looked pleased and proud and very conscious of their dignity, and Jeff loved the big man all over again for giving kids like Martin a chance to be kind and good and proud.
Propped up on one of the tables, near the blankets, was a picture of an arresting-looking woman holding a surly-looking teenage boy by the hand. Mikhail's mother, Jeff thought sadly, and her son, not long after they'd arrived in the country. Well, it was fitting—she had died last year around this time. Instead of remembering her in grief, they were remembering her by giving her the one thing she'd always wanted: a secure future and a loving home for her son.
There was music, powered by a generator in the back of a pick-up truck that had been driven to the other side of the stream, a rather eclectic mix of old and new rock and roll.
“I like this song,” Collin murmured, as Bruce Springsteen's “Gypsy Biker” played in the background. “But it doesn't sound like ballet music,” he added thoughtfully, and Jeff smirked.
“It's Shane's music,” Jeff said with certainty, and Kimmy took his arm and smiled.
“Mine too. And Lucas too—we're all fans.”
“What kind of music does Mikhail like?” Collin asked curiously.
“All kinds,” Mikhail said, coming along side of them. “But today is not a day for me and my ballet. Today is a day so everyone can see my perfect cop and know I make him happy.”
“I never doubted it,” Jeff said sincerely, and Mikhail rolled his eyes.
“Well, I did. And that is why we have this day, so everyone knows that I doubt it no longer. And as for the paperwork?” Mikhail's shrug was one-hundred-percent Russian peasant. “That is for the government people. Fuck them. It is no matter to me if they think we are married. As long as our friends know.”
With that, Mikhail trotted off, looking to greet other guests, and Kimmy gave an exasperated smile after him.
“That really stuck in his craw, didn't it?” Lucas asked with a quiet smile.
“The whole „California marriage' thing?” Kimmy said with a shrug. “Well, yeah—but pretty much mostly for Shane's sake. He's got this whole idea about government and the police force and how Shane's not getting his just due.” Kimmy grimaced at her brother-in-law fondly. “So, per usual, it's all about Shane. God, I can live with someone making his life all about Shane.”
“How about all about you?” Lucas asked slyly, and Kimmy's blush was lovely to see.
“Lucas, you make your life all about her, and I personally will cook you dinner once a month.”
“Yeah!” Collin said at his side. “Family game night. I miss it. You guys on for that again?”
“Yeah, Sparky,” Kimmy said, taking them down to the little circle of friends that was exactly like Deacon and Crick's, only a little larger. “But first we have a wedding to go to.”
“Did you just let her call me „Sparky'?” Collin asked with a little bit of indignation, and Jeff laughed.
“Sister-in-law privileges: she has 'em.”
“Fine—but I'm inviting Joanna and her husband to the next game night. She'll clean you out.”
“In what game?”
“Doesn't matter. Joanna pretty much kicks whatever ass she wants.”
“I'm going to kick
both
your asses if you don't quiet down! Jon's here!”
Jon had presided at Deacon and Crick's wedding in his one suit, and he wore that same suit now. His streaky blond hair had just been cut and styled, and his wife was standing next to him on her tiptoes, adjusting his blood-red tie. Amy was dressed like Kimmy and Benny, in a long red sheathe dress with a white coat. Benny stood across from Collin and Jeff in the loose circle, holding her daughter by one hand and Drew's arm with the other. Jeff had a moment to snort at the ways of women, and then Amy stepped away and walked to the edge of the circle, where Shane and Mikhail were waiting patiently for Jon to be ready. With an impish smile, Amy grabbed both of the men by hand and dragged them to where her husband stood.
“Nice going, hon. We don't know which one of them would have bolted.”
“Neither of them,” Amy replied sweetly. “I just wanted to see how nervous they were.”
“How nervous are they?” Crick asked from behind Deacon. He was tall enough to peer around his beloved's shoulder while keeping his arms wrapped around Deacon's shoulders protectively.
“Not nearly as nervous as you were, Crick,” Amy replied smartly, holding up what were obviously dry hands, and Deacon responded with a smile.
“He was only nervous because he snuck up and married me when I wasn't looking. I don't think that's a problem here, is it, Shane?”
“No, sir,” Shane said calmly. His usually riotous, brown, curly hair was cut nicely and styled so it stayed put—and Jeff was glad, because he was the one who'd referred Shane to a stylist to make sure he looked his best.
“How're you doing, Mikhail?” Deacon asked, and the little man bounced on his toes.
“
I
am doing fine, Deacon,” Mikhail said with determination. “However, we only have three hours before these heaters quit and I freeze my tiny little ass off, so I suggest we start.”
“Why does he get to be called „Deacon'?” Collin asked softly to Jeff, but it was Kimmy who replied, “Because Deacon is Deacon, Sparky, now hush!”
“You heard them, Jon,” Deacon said with a smile. “Get your ass in gear!”
Jon executed a full bow in Deacon's direction, and abruptly all the side chatter—like Collin's question to Jeff—stopped.
“We all know Shane and Mikhail,” Jon said with a smile, “and most of us are familiar with traditional wedding vows. But Shane and Mikhail already love and honor each other, and both of them have left the idea of obeying right out of their dictionaries, and so we're left with the only tradition that I'm comfortable with at weddings, and that's the tradition of Promise Rock.
“Now, I'm not sure if even Carrick James knows this, but when I was five years old I thought I was the loneliest kid on the planet. I was crying in the bathroom—you know, little kids' bathrooms with the toilets that barely touch your ankles? And this boy who hadn't spoken in two weeks of Kindergarten comes up to me, and he tells me that if I stop crying, his dad will take us to Promise Rock. Now, I had no idea what Promise Rock was, and those may have been the last words Deacon spoke in public school for at least four more years, but that weekend Deacon's father brought the two of us right here and played with us for hours.
“It was my best day ever, right up until Parrish brought us again. And again. And then Deacon and I came out here, and then Deacon and Amy and Crick. And this place we're standing in has come to mean something huge—a lot bigger than it probably looks to those of you who are new.
“This place, Promise Rock, is where you get to go if you keep your promises to the people who love you. It's a reward for trusting another soul enough that you let them make you happy. It's this family's place, our private place, where we go to tell the world, and God if he's listening, that we are family because we choose to be. It's where we make the things in our heart real.
“My wife and I were married here, and I had the privilege of performing the ceremony for the brother of my heart to the man he's always loved, right here.”
Jon paused a little, swallowing hard and blinking at Deacon, who gave his best friend, the brother of his heart, a crooked grin. Jon nodded, like he could keep going now that Deacon had seen that this place was the family's holy place, and that Deacon had made it so.
“So being married here, that means you're our family. That means we're not letting you go, because you can't have too much family. And I can't think of two better people to stand here and announce their intentions to be family than Shane and Mikhail. This place is not about what the rest of the world thinks—which is good, guys, because I've got to tell you, the rest of the world would
not
get you at all.”
There was laughter then, and Shane's smile grew wider, if that was possible, and Mikhail's look up at his lover was all adoration. Mikhail got Shane, and that was all that mattered—it was so simple and so obvious, and Jeff felt a hand at the lapel of his dark wool suit with the nipped in waist, and suddenly the red linen kerchief that he'd put in his pocket for looks was held up to his face, and he took it from Collin gratefully.
God, he was such a queen—but just look at them. Who cared if he was crying? The whole world should cry at their wedding—it should be a law.
“But we get them,” Jon said seriously. “We get that their life is all about making promises to listen and to understand. It's all about kindness, especially when it's unexpected, and it's about loyalty, which is always, always deserved. It's about hearts that are lost without each other, and about never letting go when they're found. It's about the unlikeliest of people fitting each other like lock and key.
“That's you two. You two together—you're everything that love should be. And I'm madly in love with my wife, and I should know.” More laughter, which was good, because Jeff wasn't sure if there was a dry eye in the house. He looked sideways and saw Collin frowning fiercely and swallowing hard. After handing Jeff his handkerchief, he'd locked his hand with Jeff's at their sides and was currently strangling it with the effort not to join the crowd.
Forget it, Sparky. Wait until you watch our little diva bitch come completely unglued. We're doomed. It's three days before Valentine's Day—give it up, baby, we're a whole family of sobbing queens.
“So now it's your turn to talk—make your promises here on Promise Rock. Family like you is exactly what this place is for.”
They spoke then, the little Russian dancer and the big, good-willed cop, and although their words played and twined like ribbons at a Maypole, they never stopped looking at each other with their souls in their eyes. They were about as pure and purely in love as Jeff had ever seen two people in his life, maybe even purer than he was, when he was with Kevin, because they'd lived for each other when the rest of the world had tried to kill them off. (In Shane's case, multiple times, and Mikhail had endured some near-misses as a lost teenager himself.)
Jeff wouldn't compare, though—not anymore. He had loved and lost, and wonder of all wonders, he'd lived. And he'd keep living, not because he had to, not because of memories, but because he had a family who loved him, and a lover who was family.
He listened as Shane said something about Mikhail being with him as long as he drew breath, and Mikhail said, “You had better keep breathing, you big, stupid cop, because my life is now so tangled with yours that there is no separating them. You carry my heart in your chest wherever you go—just make sure it is not ever too far from my side.”
That right there was where Collin lost it, and the entire clearing could hear the big shudder of breath he pulled in through quivering lips and the shaky exhale. Jeff wrapped an arm around his waist then, relieved to feel Collin's steel strong grip over his shoulders.
“Scared, yet, Sparky?” he whispered.
Collin shook his head and ignored the tears caught in his brown lashes. “Happy,” he whispered back. “Now I know what to say when it's our turn.”
Jeff caught his breath then and tilted his head a little, so it touched Collin's shoulder. They had found a house—they hadn't had time to move in, but they'd joined their finances and the bid was in escrow, and it was going to be all official in no time at all.
But there, right there, in this holy place of promises, Jeff had felt it. He'd felt the rightness of living with his lover in front of God and everyone, and he felt all of the promise the future could bring.