A gay story: The Magic in Your Touch Ch. 15 Nate spent the better part of an hour on the phone with his mother and Seth. Three-way-calling might have its benefits, but as far as Brandon was concerned, the only purpose it had served today was to keep Nate worried and exhausted. By the time he got off the phone, his shoulders were slumping and his eyes were swollen.
When Brandon handed him a shot glass full of whiskey, Nate gave a weary grin and settled down beside him on the couch. “If you’re trying to get me all liquored up so you can have your wicked way with me, I should tell you now that I’m pretty much a sure thing.”
Brandon nudged his shoulder and laughed when he almost fell over. “No offense, baby, but I like my guys a little more lively than you are at the moment.”
Nate rubbed his hand over his face. “You try talking to a hysterical woman for over an hour and see how lively you look.”
Brandon couldn’t resist. “How is Seth, anyway?” He made a satisfactory grunt when Nate elbowed him in the ribs.
Brandon laughed. “You know I’m just teasing you. How’s your mom taking it?”
“I think we’re all in shock, to tell you the truth. Mom seems to be handling it better than Seth and I are. He and I both knew there was a good chance Dad was guilty, but neither one of us ever expected him to confess. I guess we just figured he’d deny it to the end.”
“If it makes you feel any better, so did I. I had my doubts about Calder’s actual guilt, too.”
“I know.” Nate took a deep breath. “So now what?”
“With Calder pleading guilty, the death penalty is taken off the table. The most he can get is life without parole. That will be up to the judge, but Amy’s death combined with the charges for the attack on Marjorie, the arsons, and the attempts on you, make it hard for me to see a judge giving him anything less.”
Nate didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Finally, he said, “I think I’d like to start seeing that psychiatrist you took me to, Dr. Carson? I think I’m gonna need some help to process all this.”
Brandon nodded. “I think that’s a good idea, Nate.” He reached out and squeezed Nate’s knee. “Everybody needs a little help now and then. I can’t imagine anyone going through an ordeal like this without needing a little professional help.”
Nate said, “How come you went into forensic psychology instead of going on and getting your medical degree?”
Brandon grinned. “Can you really see me sitting down with patients? I don’t exactly have a sparkling bedside manner. Besides, two doctors in the family are enough. Between you and Keith, the Nash clan is covered.”
Nate leaned back and closed his eyes. “We really are gonna be a family, huh? I mean, I didn’t just dream it all, did I?”
Brandon leaned over and kissed first one eyelid and then the other. “Nope. I’m gonna have you in front of the preacher as soon as you give the word.” He sat back against the cushions. “Speaking of which, now that this is officially over, what do you say we set a date?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Did I mention that you’re a part of the family now? That means my mother has a legal right to kill you.”
Nate laughed. “Just what I need, another homicidal parent.” Brandon grabbed him and started tickling his ribs. He writhed and jumped, finally calling out, “Okay, okay. I give.”
Brandon stopped tickling but didn’t move his hands. “You ready to answer my question, or do I have to get rough with you?”
“Promises, Nash, promises.” Brandon’s fingers started to move again. Nate put up his hands. “Don’t. I’ll be serious.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Nate reached up and stroked Bran’s face. “The day before thanksgiving.”
Brandon turned his head to the side and kissed Nate’s hand. “You realize that’s in two weeks, right?”
“Yeah, well it’s not like you have to order a dress or anything. Your brothers and mine will be out of school, and most of our family members will have the day off anyway. Besides,” he gave a shy smile. “The courthouse will be open. I’ll be able to file the paperwork for my name change. I already checked.”
Brandon studied him for a minute. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah. At first I wanted to wait. Without, Amy . . . Well, you know how I feel. But she wouldn’t want us to wait, and I don’t either. Now that I’m out of danger, I want us to make it official.”
Brandon kissed his brow. “I’m glad you feel that way.” He picked up Nate’s hand and started sucking on his index finger. “Have you given any thought to our honeymoon?”
Nate moaned as Brandon took his finger deeper into his mouth. “You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to think about anything.” Brandon retreated, but only a little. Nate said, “How would you feel about a week at a nice little cabin in the Smokey Mountains?”
Brandon took Nate’s finger out of his mouth but kept a tight hold on his hand. “It sounds great, but I doubt we could rent one on such short notice.”
“Don’t have to rent one. When Grandma Morris died, she left the cabin she and Grandpa owned to me. I haven’t been in a coon’s age, but I pay a crew to keep it maintained. All I have to do is call the service and they’ll have it cleaned and ready for us.”
Brandon narrowed his eyes. “A coon’s age?”
Nate thickened his drawl. “Yep. Us country boys depend on them there critters to keep track of the seasons. Know what I mean?”
Brandon pushed him down on the couch and covered his body with his own. “Jim Varney, you aren’t. I do like the whole bumpkin routine, though.”
Nate wiggled seductively beneath him. “Oh, really? Why is that?”
“Something about that twang in your voice gets me hot.” He ground his hips against Nate’s. “Then again, there’s little about you that doesn’t get me hot.” When Nate laughed, Brandon said, “Want me to prove it to you.”
Nate’s voice was husky and his eyes were glazed over. “Yeah, but not here.”
Brandon got up and said, “Let’s go upstairs, then.”
Nate stood up, shaking his head as he went. “No.” Seeing the look of disappointment on Brandon’s face, he said, “I’m not saying I don’t want to make love, I’m just saying I want to do it some place special.”
“This isn’t where you tell me you have some fetish about sex in public places is it? I’m as flexible about some things as the next guy,” he ignored Nate’s look of skepticism, “but showing my bare ass to half of Reed isn’t my idea of foreplay.”
“Judging by some of the fights we’ve had, I’d say you’re an expert at showing your ass.” When Brandon playfully cuffed his arm, Nate said, “I was thinking we could go to your special place, the one overlooking the pond. I’ve wanted to since the first night we made love, but we couldn’t with the guards around. Now that Howard’s gone and you’ve called off your deputies, we’re all set.”
Brandon groaned. “It’s forty degrees out there, Nate, and it isn’t even full dark yet. Couldn’t we at least wait till the spring thaw?”
Nate leaned forward and nibbled Brandon’s chin. “The moon is full. I’ll be able to look into your eyes while I make love to you.”
Brandon swallowed hard. “While you make love to me?”
Nate continued to lick his way down Brandon’s neck. “Yep. You’ve been trying to get me to top you again since that night at Gale’s.”
Brandon shivered as Nate’s tongue moved from his neck to his ear. “You said it wasn’t as good for you that way.”
Nate whispered against his ear. “It isn’t that I didn’t enjoy it, but I was so stressed out that first time, I wasn’t able to relax and just let my body take over the way I do when you’re inside me. Now that I know we’re not in any danger, I believe I can give you my full attention.”
Damn. “Nate, I don’t think—”
Nate walked behind Brandon and pressed his growing erection into the crease of Bran’s jeans, then reached around to stroke Brandon’s swelling crotch. “Did I mention that I’m not wearing any underwear?”
Brandon lost all his speech capabilities when he thought of nothing standing between Nate’s most tender skin and the rasp of his jeans. He managed to say, “Huh?”
Nate licked Brandon’s other ear. “You got it, babe. I’m going commando.”
Brandon sighed and went to get a blanket.
* * *
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” It was the eighth time he’d said it, but Nate couldn’t help but smile at Brandon’s disgruntled tone.
Nate pointed to the fire Brandon was building. “With that inferno you’ve got going, I doubt we’ll feel the cold. The only danger now is smoke inhalation.”
Brandon added the final log and came to sit on the blanket with Nate. “If you’re gonna do something, might as well do it right. And if you’re gonna make love outside in the middle of November in Illinois, you need a fire.”
Nate got behind him, with Brandon now sitting between his legs. He wrapped his arms around Bran’s waist. “When you grabbed the matches, I had no idea you were going to recreate the Great Chicago Fire.”
Brandon looked at him over his shoulder. The firelight and moonlight combined to make his dark hair shimmer. “Are you always this bitchy?”
Nate grinned. “Only when I’m horny and my guy won’t shut up.”
Brandon shifted until he was lying down on the blanket. He held out his arms to Nate. “If you want me to shut up, you’d better give me something to put in my mouth.”
Nate said, “Aren’t you gonna get undressed first?”
Brandon sat up, stripping and grumbling as he went. When he’d taken off everything but his boxers and his socks, he said, “I’ll take off my shorts, but I’m leaving my socks on. I may get frostbite, but it won’t be on my toes.”
Nate gave him a wicked smile. “There was a time when you thought you’d get frostbite from me.”
Brandon groaned and fell back on the blanket. “I’m never gonna live that one down, am I?”
Nate stood up and started undressing. “Nope. I’ll still be bringing it up on our golden anniversary.”
Brandon’s eyes darkened with love and lust. “As long as we have fifty more years together, I don’t care how you choose to torture me.” He looked down at his still soft penis. “Of course, there’s torture, and then there’s torture. I’m glad you decided to top, babe, because I don’t think this ole’ boy is gonna be perking up anytime soon. Not with my balls frozen like they are.”
Nate discarded the rest of his clothes and knelt between Brandon’s legs. “Let’s see what I can do about this delicate condition of yours.” Using the tip of his tongue, Nate traced the fine veins of Brandon’s sack and then followed the long vein on the underside of his rapidly growing cock all the way up. Nate teased him like that until Brandon was all but begging for more. When Nate took the entire hardened length of him into his mouth and swallowed him to the hilt, Brandon’s hips lifted off the blanket.
“Oh, God, Nate . . . That’s unbelievable.”
Nate didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled off long enough to lube his middle finger with the KY jelly he’d smuggled outside. He spread Brandon’s legs and carefully loosened him up, returning to the job his mouth was doing as he worked his finger inside.
By the time Nate slid in a second finger, Brandon was panting and muttering under his breath. When Nate went for a third finger, Brandon shook his head.
“Now, baby. Don’t wanna wait, anymore.”
Nate slicked himself up, got into position, and slid slowly inside Brandon’s tight body, first the thick head and then his shaft, an inch at a time. Brandon was all but screaming by the time Nate was all the way in.
“Jesus, Nate. That feels so damned good. Move, baby. I wanna feel you thrusting into me.”
Nate gritted his teeth and started to move. He could feel the head of his dick bumping against Brandon’s prostate. Even if he hadn’t been able to feel it, Brandon’s husky groans every time Nate pushed back in would have been a clear give away.
After several good thrusts, Nate could feel Brandon tightening up. “I’m almost there, Nate. Come with me, baby.”
Nate locked eyes with Brandon and thrust all the way in. He filled Brandon just as Brandon came in powerful waves all over his stomach and chest. As Nate fell onto Brandon in a pleasantly exhausted heap, he realized for the first time that he and Brandon were finally over the hump. The future was free and clear for the two of them. He was still smiling an hour later when they made their way back to the house.
* * *
Brandon shook his head in disgust as Nate wrote out a check for forty-six thousand dollars. “I can’t believe you’re buying that car after our conversation last night.”
Nate handed the check to Cain and then turned back to Brandon with a grin. “Which conversation would that be? The one where you promised not to share the garage with me if I bought that ‘souped-up death wagon,’ or the one where you offered to drive me to a dealership and buy me anything I wanted if I’d forget all about buying that ‘rebuilt refugee from a thirties’ gangster flick?’”
Cain was scandalized. “You offered to take him to a dealership?”
Brandon shrugged. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.” He moved his eyes from Cain to Nate. “I almost lost you in that first car accident, not to mention what could have happened at your office.” He reached out and stroked Nate’s cheek. “I can’t go through that again, Nate. If I have to beg and grovel to keep you safe, I’ll do it.”
Nate was filled with so much tenderness for the man in front of him, he forgot all about the fact that they were standing in Lucas’s garage. He reached for Brandon and heard a loud clearing of the throat.
Cain said, “I’ll just go put this in the office safe and gather up the paperwork.” He left before Brandon and Nate could protest.
Nate pulled Brandon into his arms and said, “Look, Bran, we just got our lives back. Do you really think I would do something reckless or stupid to screw all that up?”
Brandon sighed and rested his forehead against Nate’s. “No. I know you better than that. But a guy’s got a right to try and protect his family, you know?”
Nate moved his hands from Brandon’s waist to slide them into the back pockets of his jeans, pulling him even closer. “Yeah, I do know, Bran, but you gotta trust me.”
Brandon gave up. “You win. You know I can’t argue with you when you go all logical on me. I won’t say anything else about the car” He narrowed his eyes. “But you can’t stop me from thinking it.”
Nate nodded in agreement, pleased to have won that round. Lucas came back a few minutes later with a manila folder in his right hand and something brown and fuzzy in his left.
He handed the folder to Nate. “Here’s the title and registration. I’ve still got temporary insurance on her, so all you have to do today is buy the tags and get the registration changed over into your name.” He stuck out his hand. “Congratulations, Doctor Morris. You just bought yourself a car.”
Nate felt like a sixteen-year-old with his first set of wheels when he shook Cain’s hand. “Thanks, Cain.” He looked to Lucas’s left hand. “What’s that?”
Cain held up a raccoon’s tail. “If you’re gonna drive a car like that, you’ll need one of these for the antenna.”
Brandon just shook his head.
* * *
Clive Rogers opened the door to his office at the Carlin Bank and Trust with an engaging smile. He looked to Brandon to be the stereotypical description of every British banker Hollywood ever cast. He had the three piece suit, the salt and pepper hair, even the accent. Despite his resemblance to a stodgy bean counter, Brandon found him to be warm and friendly as they shook hands. When Rogers had called to say the tapes were in, Brandon had wasted no time driving to Chicago.
“Sheriff Nash, please come in and have a seat. May I offer you something to drink? A cup of coffee, perhaps?”
“Thank you, but I had a cup on the way over.” Brandon cracked a smile. “Coffee? I thought the English all drank tea.”
Rogers shivered. “Nasty stuff, that. Give me a good cup of coffee over a mug of tea any day.” He pointed to a pair of wingback chairs perched in front of a tall cherry armoire. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll fetch the cassette.”
Brandon settled himself in one of the chairs and waited. Rogers came back in a few minutes and opened the doors of the armoire, revealing a television with a built in VCR. He slipped the cartridge into the port and said, “I’ve used the time stamp on the check to narrow down the cassette number. I believe this is the one you’re looking for.” He settled in the other chair and pushed the play button on the remote.
Brandon did his best to be patient while Rogers ran through the film. When a familiar, red head can into view, Brandon sprang to the edge of his seat and said, “Stop the tape.”
Rogers pushed the paused button. “I take it that’s your man?”
Brandon nodded. “That’s him. Damn. I was sure the signatures on the check and the cancellation agreement were different.”
“Sometimes it’s difficult to tell.” Rogers stopped the tape, walked to the VCR and ejected it. He handed the cartridge to Brandon. “I’ve already made the necessary copies.” He then looked Bran directly in the eye. “I assure you, Sheriff Nash, we were shown the proper form of identification or we never would have cashed that check. We have a strict policy concerning the cashing of notes, especially when the person in question doesn’t have an account with us. None of my people would violate that.”
Brandon stood up. “I’m not placing the blame on you or your employees. The man on this tape was a pro. He was more than capable of making a fake I.D.”
“You used the word was, Sheriff. I take it your man is deceased?”
“Yes.”
Rogers gave him a blank stare. “Then, there won’t be a trial?”
Brandon shook his head. “Oh, there’ll be a trial, alright, just not for Wilson.” Under his breath, he said, “I just pray to God we’ve got the right man.”
* * *
Nate was in the kitchen, stirring a stock pot full of beef stew when Brandon got home. He yelped when Bran slid his arms around his waist. Only then did Brandon notice Nate was wearing headphones.
Nate clicked off the portable CD player and slipped the earphones around his neck. “Jesus, Bran. Give a guy a heart attack, why don’t you?”
Brandon kissed his cheek. “Sorry, babe, but I didn’t see the headphones.” He turned Nate in his arms so he could watch his face. “What’s with that, anyway? We have a perfectly good system in the living room.”
Nate ducked his head a little bit. “Yeah, but Sasha’s in there sleeping.”
Brandon did his best not to laugh, but failed miserably. “Are you telling me you’re in here listening to headphones so you won’t disturb our dog?”
Nate stepped lightly on his foot. “Don’t laugh at me, Nash. I’ve had a hard day.”
Brandon pulled him closer and cuddled him to his chest. “Wanna tell me about it?”
Nate sighed. “I will, but you aren’t gonna like it.”
Brandon moved back enough to see him clearly. “Might as well tell me and get it over with, then.”
Nate said, “I ran into Mike today.”
“Where?”
“At the courthouse, when I went to register my car. He was there probating Amy’s will.”
Brandon reached up to push a lock of Nate’s hair off his forehead. “Why would I be mad about that? You can’t help who you run into.”
Nate took a deep breath. “That’s true, but I sort of invited him to dinner.”
Brandon did his best to cool his temper. He kept telling himself he wasn’t angry. He counted to ten and back four times. He tried deep breathing, and even prayer.
To his credit, Nate didn’t even flinch when Brandon yelled, “You did what?”
Nate went back to the stove and pretended that Brandon wasn’t standing in the middle of the kitchen looking at him like he was insane. “I ran into him, he asked if we could talk, and I invited him to dinner. I figured you’d rather have him over here, with you to chaperone, as have me go somewhere with him.”
Brandon walked over to the table and fell into a chair. “I’d rather you tell the bastard to fuck off. He did his best to take your head off at Amy’s funeral. Why in the hell would I want that son-of-a-bitch in our house?”
Nate put a lid on the stew pot and came over to the table. He took the seat next to Bran and reached for his hand. “He was grieving, Bran. The guy lost his wife not three days before he went after me. Don’t you think we should cut him some slack?”
“Nate—”
Nate shook his head. “Just listen to me for a minute. How would you feel if someone had been after Amy, and I’d gotten caught in the crossfire? Would you have been Mr. Calm and Cool if I’d been the one laying in that box?”
Brandon shuddered at the very thought. “Hell, no, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit across the table with the guy.”
Nate’s voice hardened. “Brandon, I’m not asking for your permission here. If this is really my house, too, then I have the right to invite anyone I want to sit at this table. If I don’t have that right, then we have a much bigger problem on our hands than Mike.”
Brandon pulled back his hand and stood up. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower.”
“Bran—”
Brandon shook his head. “Just give me a few minutes, okay?” He went upstairs before Nate could respond.
* * *
Nate was setting the table when Brandon came back downstairs. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans with ripped knees and a black t-shirt that showed every ripple of his chest muscles. His hair was still damp, and Nate could see a little trail of water trickling down his neck. He had the urge to walk over and lick the moisture away, but he resisted. It was going to be up to Brandon to make the first move. He only hoped he didn’t have a long wait.
He didn’t. Brandon came around the table and took him into his arms. “I owe you an apology.”
“Uh-huh.”
Brandon grinned. “You aren’t gonna make this easy, are you?”
“Nope.”
Brandon bent him back over the dish-free-section of the table. He leaned over him and started sucking on his ear. “I was a real jerk about the whole thing.”
Nate could feel himself boning up, but he wasn’t about to let Brandon off the hook. Not just yet anyway. “Keep going.”
Brandon kissed his neck. “This is as much your house as it is mine, and you have the right to invite anyone you want to come and eat with us.”
“And?”
Brandon rested his head on Nate’s shoulder. “Do I have to say it?”
“’Fraid so.”
Brandon grinned again. “You were right and I was wrong.”
Nate reached up and wiped the water from Bran’s brow. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Hell yes it was. Damned apology gave me heartburn.”
Nate kissed Brandon’s chest through his shirt. “There. I kissed it. Did I make it better?”
“If I’d know you were going to start kissing my body parts and making them better, I’d have chosen blue-balls over heartburn as my disease of choice.”
Nate wrapped his arms around Brandon’s neck. “Blue balls, huh?”
Brandon turned his head and kissed the inside of Nate’s wrist, taking the time to trail his tongue along the fine blue vein leading up to his hand. “Yep. Classic case of blue-balls. If I don’t get some relief, and get it soon, one or both of those suckers is gonna pop right off.”
Nate flexed his hips in an evidence gathering attempt. “I think you’re right, Bran. Maybe you should see a doctor.” He pretended to think about it, and then said, “Wait a minute, I’m a doctor.” He was about to give Brandon a thorough examination, when Sasha came in from the living room and started barking.
Nate looked up to see Mike standing in the kitchen. He said, “Sorry to interrupt, but the door was open.”
Brandon couldn’t have gotten up any faster had his pants been on fire. His eyes went from sparkling blue mischief to icy control in the space of a heartbeat.
“Vaughn.”
Mike nodded. “Hello, Nash. I take it you didn’t know I was coming.”
Brandon shook his head. “Oh, I knew you were coming, all right. See, Vaughn, Nate and I don’t keep secrets from each other.” Ignoring Nate’s warning stare, he went on to say, “No, I knew all about your visit, I just couldn’t think of a damn thing to do to stop it. What I’d like to know now is, when the hell are you leaving? I’d like enough advanced notice to be suitably relieved when you make your exit.”
Nate started to say something, but Mike interrupted him. “He’s right, Nate. After the way I treated you at Amy’s funeral—” He broke off, but not before Nate saw the wetness in his eyes. Mike stood in silence for several tense minutes, working to gain control. Finally, he said, “After the way I treated you, I don’t blame him for not wanting me here.”
Nate knew better than to hope for Brandon to do the polite thing and make Mike feel welcome. Instead, he took up the reins. “Supper’s almost ready, Mike, if you want to have a seat at the table. Brandon, why don’t you take Sasha for a quick walk while the cornbread is finishing up?”
If Brandon wanted to argue, he didn’t show it. He seemed as relieved to get away from Mike as Mike seemed to have him go.
The minute they heard the back door closing, Mike said, “Listen, Nate, I really appreciate you letting me come over tonight, especially after all that’s happened.”
Nate went back to the stove and took a peek at the bread. Straightening and turning to face Mike in one motion, he said, “Like I told you at the courthouse, Mike, I understood. As Brandon will tell you, I went a little crazy after Amy died, myself.”
Mike said, “Yeah, well, you didn’t take a swing at one of your best friends, either. And no offense, but I doubt Nash is gonna want to tell me anything besides ‘go to hell.’”
Nate went to the refrigerator and removed a stone-ware jug of sweetened tea. After pouring three glasses full he said, “Brandon’s just upset. He’ll come around eventually.” He managed to sound half-way convincing, too.
Mike shook his head. “That I seriously doubt, my friend, but it won’t matter, anyway. I’m leaving Reed, Nate. I’ve already turned in my resignation with the firm and put my house on the market. All that’s left now is to decide where I want to go, and to get the hell out of here.” When Nate muttered a protest, Mike just shrugged. “You know it’s for the best. It’s not like I’ve lived here long enough to establish a whole lot of ties.” He looked down at the scarred oak surface of the table and fingered a knot in the wood. His voice was dull, emotionless. “ You and Amy were my only real links to Reed in the first place. Now that Amy’s gone and you and I—” He broke off and looked up at Nate. “You and I will always have a bond, but it’ll never be like it was. Not with all that’s happened. I think you know what I’m talking about.”
Nate wanted to argue, but he did know what Mike meant, because he felt the same way. The friendship they’d shared was forged more out of a mutual love for Amy than any real affection for each other. And as bad as he felt about it, Nate still couldn’t look at Mike without seeing Amy’s smile, or hearing her laughter. It was damn painful just to be in the same room with the guy. When the time came for him to speak, all Nate could manage was, “Any ideas on what you want to do next?”
Mike sank a little further into the chair. “Not really. The only real family I have is my aunt in Atlanta and a handful of cousins. I may just drift for a while, traveling around and trying out new places. It’s not like the five-year plan Amy and I came up with when we moved here means anything, anymore. Fucking bomb saw to that.” He gave Nate an apologetic smile. “That sounded like I’m still blaming you, didn’t it? For what it’s worth, I’m not.”
“It’s a damn good thing you aren’t, Vaughn.” Brandon stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowed on Mike. “There wasn’t a single thing Nate could have done to save Amy, and you know it.”
Nate knew that look, and he also knew there would be a free-for-all if he didn’t step in and put a stop to it. He said, “Brandon, if you’ll bring the tea to the table, I’ll take the bread out of the oven and we’ll be ready to eat.”
Brandon grumbled, but he did what Nate told him to do. Nate rescued the cornbread, and then carried the stew pot to the table. Within five minutes, they were all seated at the table and ready to eat.
To say the meal was tense was an understatement. Aside from the initial saying of grace, they ate in complete silence. Dinner at home with his parents had always been like that. His father wanted complete quiet at the table, and that’s what he got. But dinner at the Nash house was different. Whether it was just him and Brandon or the whole noisy clan, there was always laughter and conversation. And when he and Brandon were alone, the food was often abandoned for much more pleasurable pursuits than eating. Tonight, though, the silence was almost more than Nate could stand. He picked at his food, and watched Brandon glare at Mike over his bowl of stew. Nate was more than a little relieved when the phone rang and broke the silence.
Brandon started to get up, but Nate shook his head. “I’ll get it.” He was across the room before Bran could argue.
Nate picked up the phone and said, “Hello.”
“Doc? It’s Sam. Is the sheriff around?”
“Sure, Sam. He’s right here.” He held the phone out to Brandon. “Bran, it’s for you.”
Brandon took the phone, while Nate went back to his seat. He studied Brandon’s face, noticing as his expression went from intent to elated. He was practically hoping up and down when he said, “Alright, Sam. Keep everyone out of her room until I get there.” Pause. “No, Eva and the doctor are fine, but no one else goes in until I have a chance to talk to her.” Pause. “Alright. See you then.”
Brandon hung up the phone and gave Nate a radiant smile. “Sam was calling from the hospital. Marjorie Newman is awake.”
* * *
Brandon grabbed Nate and swung him around the kitchen. “She’s awake, Nate, and according to Sam, there doesn’t seem to be any signs of permanent damage.”
Nate caught his breath and gave Brandon a wet kiss right on his lips. Brandon pulled him closer and deepened the contact. He barely heard Mike clear his throat. He reluctantly broke away and turned to find Mike standing by the table.
Mike said, “Excuse me guys. I forgot I was supposed to call one of my clients about the closing of his condo. It’s been rescheduled.”
Nate said, “You’re welcome to use the phone in here. Or there’s one in the living room if you need some privacy.”
Mike pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I’ve got my own phone, but I’ll take you up on the privacy. I’ll just step outside for a second.” He slipped out while Brandon was still staring at Nate.
When he was gone, Brandon said, “You realize what this means, don’t you Nate?”
Nathan nodded. “With Marjorie awake, and my father pleading guilty, it’s really over.”
Brandon pulled him close and kissed his temple. “You got it, baby. This is the last link in the chain. As soon as I take Marjorie’s statement, I can sign off on this case and pronounce it closed.”
Nate leaned his head against Brandon’s chest. “Is that why you didn’t want just anyone in her room, to protect the integrity of her statement?”
“Yep. More than likely, she won’t remember anything, but just in case she does, I don’t want Calder’s lawyer to be able to say she was coerced or coached in any way.” He gently pushed Nate towards the mudroom. “Get your coat and lets go.”
Nate shook his head. “I can’t go with you, Bran. We’ve got company, remember.”
Brandon snorted. “Yeah, as if I could forget. Look, just tell him you have to go to the hospital with me and send him home. He’s a big boy. He can take it.”
“No, Brandon. This is the first time since the funeral that Mike has reached out to me, and I’m not going to let him down now.”
Brandon did his best not to lose his temper. “Nate, you aren’t responsible for that guy. You don’t have to baby-sit him.”
Nate firmed his jaw. “Brandon, I’m not going to argue with you about this.”
Remembering their argument earlier, Brandon sighed. “Fine. I know better than to try to force you. Look, just promise me you’ll call if you need me.” He reached over to the counter where Nate’s cell phone was charging and handed it to him. “Carry this in you pocket until I get back.”
“Brandon—”
Brandon pulled him into a hug. “Please Nate. Just this once. For me?”
Nate pulled back and grinned at him. “You’re getting pretty good and that pitiful whining thing, you know?”
Brandon grinned right back at him. “Did it work?”
Nate slid the phone into his hip pocket. “As if you ever had a doubt.”
Brandon pulled him into a soft, slow kiss. When they were both sufficiently breathless, Brandon said, “I’ve had a lot of doubts about a lot of things in my life, Nate, but not about you. Never about you.”
* * *
Brandon spent a lot of time in hospitals. Aside from the births of his nieces and nephews, there were accident reports, victims’ statements, interviews with the coroner, and on and on. Usually he dreaded victims’ statements the most, but he was actually looking forward to this one. Marjorie Newman’s statement would put an end to this whole sordid mess, and mark the beginning of his marriage to Nate. He was practically skipping by the time he reached Marjorie’s room.
He greeted Sam, who was dutifully standing guard in the hall, and then knocked on the door. He opened it before receiving leave to go in. He’d visited several times since Marjorie’s attack, so he was prepared for the balloons, flowers, and cards littering the room, as well as for the sight of Marjorie’s partner, Eva, sitting near the bed. The only surprise in store for him was Marjorie, sitting straight up in the bed, her gray hair beginning to grow back from the shaving made necessary by a blow to the head. Her hazel eyes twinkled as Brandon came into the room.
Eva greeted him with a warm hug. Unlike Marjorie, Eva’s hair hadn’t grayed with age. It was jet black and secured in a braid down her back, clear signs of her American Indian heritage. Eva was a beautiful woman who looked closer to forty than her actual sixty years with her browned skin and petite figure.
“Brandon, come on in here and have a seat. Isn’t it wonderful about Marjorie?”
Brandon stood behind one of the two chairs next to the bed and waited for Eva to take her seat. When she did, he sat down and reached for Marjorie’s hand. He said, “Hey there, pretty thing. You look more like a woman who’s spent two months at a spa than in a coma.”
Marjorie pooh-poohed him with her hand. “Not . . . nice . . . lie to. . .me.”
Brandon gave Eva a quizzical look. She smiled and said, “The speech problems are only temporary, according to the doctor. Her mind is perfectly intact.”
Brandon nodded and turned back to Marjorie. “”You up to answering some questions, sweetheart?”
She bobbed her head up and down, so Brandon took out his notebook and said, “Most of these are yes or no questions, so just nod or shake your head, and save your voice.” When she acknowledged that, he continued with, “Okay, doll, first question: do you remember what happened the night of the fire?”
She nodded.
“Great. Do you remember the man that did this to you?”
Another nod, this one more forceful. Brandon reached for her hand again and gave it a squeeze. “You’re doing fine, Marjorie. Now I need to ask you another question. Did the guy who hit you just walk into the store and club you, or was he hiding, waiting for you to leave?”
“Hiding. . .in bathroom. Went to close. . .up. Heard noise. . .found him inside.”
Brandon let go of her hand long enough to reach into his coat pocket and pull out a picture of Wilson. “Last question, Marjorie, and then I’ll go away and let you rest. Was this the guy that hit you?”
Marjorie barely looked at the picture before shaking her head. Brandon held the photo up a little higher. “Take another look, Marjorie.”
Another shake, this one more emphatic. Brandon looked at Eva, who only shrugged. He turned back to Marjorie and said, “Are you sure? Remember, you took a pretty vicious knock to the head. Could you be mistaken?”
“No. . .mistake. Not him.”
Brandon folded up the picture and put it back in his pocket. He didn’t want her to get upset, but he had to keep trying. “Marjorie, do you know who it was?”
Marjorie fought hard to make her mouth work. Finally, she was able to say the two words that held the most power over Brandon at that moment. “Mike. . .Vaughn.”
{TO BE CONTINUED IN TWO WEEKS}