The All Important Third Date

Caleb stood at the open refrigerator, marveling at the lushness of its bounty.  He’d never seen their refrigerator so resemble a cornucopia.

“Oh, hey, good, you’re home.”  Nolan’s voice called from the loft.

“We win a farmer’s market in the lottery or something?”  Caleb asked, now eyeing the burgeoning fruit bowl on the kitchen island too.

Nolan trotted down the spiral stairs, wrapped only in a long, fluffy, terri cloth towel at his waist, and flashed his brother a frenetic sort of grin.  “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”  He said.  “I’m having someone over tonight.”

Caleb grabbed a bottled water from beside an impressive bunch of broccoli rabe and closed the fridge door.  “Oooh.  Having someone over, as in, a date?”

Nolan smiled.  “Yeah.”

“That why you cleaned my bathroom?”  Caleb asked with a smile.  His bathroom was the downstairs one, the one company would use.

“The only reason I’d venture in there, Brother.”  Nolan quipped.  “I didn’t throw anything away, all your products are in the cabinet.”

“Good.”  Caleb said.  “You know I’d seek retribution by sabotaging your wine collection.”

“Duly noted.”  Nolan chuckled.

“So, the same girl?”  Caleb asked, twisting the bottle cap on and taking a swig.  It was ridiculously hot out today.  Even here in the air conditioned townhouse his mouth felt balmy and sticky.  “The Indian one?”

Nolan frowned a little but nodded to confirm.  “Zahra.”  He impressed.  “I’m making dinner.”  His brother looked around the kitchen, a little daunted by the prospect.

Caleb laughed.  “Say no more.  I’ll find some place to be for the evening.”  He hadn’t planned on sticking around anyway; a new club was opening in the city and he thought he might check it out.

“No, actually.”  Nolan swished his pinky in his ear, trying to dislodge an errant drop of water.  “I was hoping you could be here.”  

Caleb paused, the water bottle midway to his lips, his face a question.  “You want me to be here while you have a date?”

Nolan nodded and padded toward the laundry room.  “Yeah, think you can make it?  At least for the dinner?”  He turned, his face all wrapped up in thought.  “Then maybe find somewhere to be after…”

Caleb raised an eyebrow and leaned against the kitchen counter.  “Isn’t tonight your third date?”  He asked leadingly.

“Yes.”  Nolan’s answer was terse.  “And?”

His brother emerged from the laundry room with the ironing board and began setting it up.  Caleb still hadn’t answered.  Nolan stared at him, expectantly.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Nolan, don’t play dumb.”  Caleb scoffed.  “I know what a third date means for you straight people.”

Nolan couldn’t help the smile.  “Like I said, maybe find somewhere to go after.”

Caleb rolled his eyes and pulled a face.  “Nole, in what universe is it a turn-on to introduce your gay little brother on the third date?”

Now Nolan looked serious.  “You’re an important part of my life.”  He said simply, and crossed back into the tiny laundry area to fetch the iron.

Caleb watched his brother choose a setting and plug in the device before he figured it out.  “You want to know if she’s a homophobe.”

Nolan met his eyes.  “I’m sure she isn’t.”  He said, but he didn’t sound certain, just hopeful.  “And it’s more than that.  I want her to meet my family.  I want you guys to meet her.”

“On the third, fucking, date, though?!”

Nolan sighed and headed back to the spiral stairs without comment.

“Wait.”  Said Caleb.

“I’m grabbing my shirt and pants.”  Nolan said as he bounded up the stairs and disappeared into his bedroom.

“Family?”  Caleb called with trepidation.  “You didn’t invite Jonah and Velvet too, did you?”

Silence.

“Yeah.”  Came Nolan’s muffled response from somewhere deep in his bedroom.

Caleb smacked his hand to his forehead and tisked.  What was his brother thinking?!

When Nolan reemerged and started down the stairs again he was holding a few different shirts and a couple pairs of pants.  “Help me?”  He asked casually.

They laid the garments out over the sparkling clean kitchen island and looked them over ponderously.

“Not the lavender if Jonah’s gunna be here.”  Caleb vetoed brusquely.  “No sense setting yourself up for comparison.”

Nolan nodded and pulled it off the counter with a grunt of agreement.

Caleb held up the remaining two against his brother’s still bare chest, alternating one then the other under his chin.  Nolan stood patiently, enduring the process with ease and trusting his brother’s magic.

“This one.”  Caleb said, his verdict as clear as if a gavel noise would follow.  “It’ll make your eyes leave Jonah’s in the dust.”  He added.

Nolan gave a short laugh.  “Unfuckinglikely.” He tossed the runner-up onto the first eliminated and they focused on the pants.

“Neither.”  Caleb said firmly.

Nolan frowned. “Those are my best pants.”  He argued.

“Yeah.”  Caleb agreed.  “And completely useless.”  He looked his brother in the eye.  “Jeans.”

An ‘Ahhh’ sort of expression replaced Nolan’s consternation and he smiled.  “You’re the best.”  He threw the light gray striped button down they’d chosen over the back of a bar stool and gathered the rest of the clothing up, eagerly heading back to the stairs.

“Grab a black teeshirt for underneath.”  Caleb advised.

“Yup.”  And Nolan was gone again. 

 

“A tight one!”

He heard Nolan chuckle.

Caleb delivered the selected item to the ironing board but went no further than that.  He wasn’t their mother.

This time when Nolan came back down he had thrown on a plain white tee and a pair of boxers. 

“Ok, picked jeans, a belt, a tee—I’ll need you for shoes, I think.”

“Yeah.”  Caleb agreed.  He would.  “But listen, Nolan, seriously, why are you doing this?”

Nolan pulled out a gourmet recipe book and plopped it on the counter.  “Because you’re my family and my family is important to me.”  He reiterated.

Caleb shook his head.  “Yeah, but we’ll also be here in a week, two weeks, a month, whenever you’ve got this relationship on firm footing and are really ready to do the ‘meet my girlfriend’ thing.”

That’s how it had been in the past.  That system worked well.  

“I would rather know sooner, rather than later.”  Nolan said quietly.

His brother thumbed through the cook book almost idly, no clear agenda at the moment, lost in thought.

Whoa.  “You mean you want to know before you sleep with her whether or not we like her?”

Nolan was quiet.

“Jesus, Nole, that’s a little intense.”

“I’m in love with her.”  He responded simply.  

“Then I’m sure we’ll love her too.”  Caleb soothed.  Nolan always picked great girls.  He couldn’t remember objecting to a single one.

Nolan shook his head marginally.  “I’ve never felt like this, Kay, and I just don’t want to lose my heart if it can’t work out.”

Caleb furrowed his brow.  “If you love each other, why wouldn’t it work out?”

Nolan met his eyes meaningfully.  

“Oh god.”  He said, barely audible.  “You need to know if she meshes because you think she might be it.”

Nolan’s face said it all.

“So I was right, kind of, about the homophobic crack?”

“I’m sure she’ll love you.”  Nolan repeated mulishly.  

“But if not?”

He sighed.  “If not, then, what future can there be?”

Caleb’s eyes widened.  Wow.  He was touched.  Honestly.  Moved.  “Nole.”

Nolan shrugged and decided to open to the table of contents rather than meet his brother’s eye at that moment.  “She’s from a traditional Hindu family.”  He fretted.

Caleb laughed.  “I’ve never heard that Hindus were especially anti-gay.”

“Me neither, but…”  He ran a hand through his still-drying hair absently.  “And the sooner I introduce her to my family the sooner, maybe, she’ll introduce me to hers, and then we’ll really see, won’t we?”

Caleb sank into an island stool and studied his brother’s tense muscles, his barely restrained nervousness, his heart, out there, beating right on his white cotton sleeve.  Boy, did he ever love this girl.  Two dates.  Almost three.  And he’s thinking marriage and forever.

“This is all very Jonah of you.”  Caleb commented wryly.

Nolan met his eyes.  “No shit, huh?”  He said, sounding a bit in awe of it.  “I did not see this coming.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, thinking.  “More than the thing with me, you need to know if Jones approves.”  He said astutely.

Nolan looked startled and then very guilty.  “I want to know what each of you thinks.”  He argued.  “Jonah isn’t the end-all, be-all.”

Caleb shook his head.  “No, he kind of is.”

Nolan scratched the back of his neck and slapped the cook book closed, deciding to fetch another from the shelf.  “That’s ridiculous.”  He denied.

“Nole, there’s no shame in it.”  Caleb soothed gently.  “He’s important to you.  His opinion is key.”

Nolan shrugged and returned to the kitchen island, brows furrowed, lips turned-down, a storm cloud.  “You’re better at reading people than Jones is.”  He reasoned.

“But you’re the best at it.”  Caleb said with a smile.

“Well my radar is a little foggy with this one because I’ve never wanted someone more in my life.”  He confessed unashamedly.

“Ok, well I’ll be glad to give you my report, but let’s not pretend this doesn’t all hinge on Jonah’s stamp of approval.”

Nolan sighed heavily.  “I wanna see how she is with the kids too.”  He said.

Caleb’s eyes blinked dramatically.  “The kids are coming too?!”

“Yeah.”  Said Nolan, as if that were obvious.

“Does your date know all this yet?”  He asked, incredulous.

“I told her, yes.”  He said evasively.

“And she still agreed to come?”  Caleb asked with a smirk.

“She did.”  Nolan answered blandly.

“Then, brother, I think you’ve already got your answer.”  He said with a playful tone.  “She’s the one.”

“I hope so.”  Nolan said, a shade wistful, a shade worried.

“Tell you this, though:”  Caleb leveled seriously.  “No way in hell you’re getting laid tonight.”

Nolan grimaced. 

“Just saying.”  Caleb shrugged.  “Want me to make the salad?”  He asked with a perky change of mood.

Nolan laughed and very unexpectedly wrapped his arms around his brother affectionately.  “I thought you’d never ask!”

Meet The Folks

Velvet stood on the wide wraparound porch of a lovely Victorian style home in one of Cedar Falls’ more affluent residential neighborhoods.  She was uncomfortably hot, the August heat making her feel especially heavy and causing sweat to pool in places she didn’t even have seven months before.  She wore a lightweight linen blend sundress but even that felt like too much clothing.  She sincerely wished she were back at the townhouse, spread out on Jonah’s bed in the cool dark of his air conditioned bedroom, wearing nothing at all.  She cast her glance sideways at the tall, handsome, wholesome looking man next to her on the porch and flashed back to what he’d done to her earlier that morning.

And with that decidedly unwholesome thought in her head her cheeks were stained with high color when the front door opened inward and she came face to face with Mr. Delaney, Jonah’s stern looking father. 

“Well, Hello!”  Greeted the gruff older man in what Velvet assumed must be his most genial sort of voice, though to her mind it was still rough and somewhat ornery.

“Hi, Pops.”  Jonah responded and embraced the man, clapping him on the back before reaching his hand to Velvet and pulling her forward to meet his dad.  “Velvet, this is my father Ethan Delaney; Pops, this is Velvet.”  Jonah said with a wide smile.

“I know this young lady well enough—Though she may not remember me.”  Mr. Delaney said, extending his hand and shaking hers while leading her into the blessedly cool interior of the Victorian home.

Velvet smiled prettily.  “You’re friends of my parents?” She guessed.  It was always the case when some older person seemed to feel fairly well acquainted with her but she had no recollection of meeting them.

“Indeed, your father was our lawyer since the time Evelyn and I married and moved to town.”  He said.  And Velvet noted that Mr. Delaney, like so many others, never followed such a statement with anything close to ‘He was a good man, your father.’  She often wondered about this glaring omission.  It seemed to be something people said of the dead, whether they particularly meant it or not, and yet somehow, when it came to Sebastian Calder Esquire, people seemed content to leave the perfunctory phrase unsaid. 

Her smile deepened as Mr. Delaney navigated them toward the wide archway of the front parlor where she saw Nolan, already arrived, playing a board game with an adorable boy of maybe eleven or twelve. 

“I’m supposed to offer you two lemonade.”  Mr. Delaney said with a sigh, “Would you care for any Lemonade, Mrs. Grey?”

Velvet’s smile slipped and Jonah’s fingers found hers, encircling her hand and squeezing firmly.  “Pop.” He said, a warning note in his voice.

“Jonah?”  The older man replied, a steely note behind it.

“Please, call me Velvet.”  She heard herself saying smoothly, covering the tense little standoff between father and son with her pleasant tone.  “And lemonade would be heaven, thank you.”  She added, sweet as pie.

“Alright.”  Mr. Delaney replied cordially enough, not taking his eyes from Jonah.  “How ‘bout you two, you all set with lemonade?” He called into the parlor beyond.

“Hey!”  Nolan said in greeting. 

“Hi!”  Velvet responded enthusiastically, stepping into the parlor and tugging gently on Jonah’s hand to follow, hoping to diffuse the situation further.  She didn’t need him ruffling feathers and drawing battle lines within his own family on her account.

“We’re good here, Pop.”  Nolan said chipperly as he made a discreet gesture to the boy, who saw it and promptly rose to his feet with a ready smile.

“Be right back then.”  Mr. Delaney grumbled and headed toward the back of the home where Velvet imagined the kitchen was kept. 

Jonah turned to her, looking troubled and apologetic.  She shook her head before he could speak and she smiled.  There wasn’t time for more because Nolan was approaching with the youngest Delaney brother.

Velvet watched Jonah’s stormy expression clear instantaneously when he saw his little brother.  “Cale soup!”  He declared, pulling the young man into a bone-crushing hug.  The boy erupted in a peal of laughter and then blushed furiously, casting an eye at the pretty lady in their parlor.

Velvet accepted Nolan’s hug and kiss on the cheek while Jonah ruffled their brother’s hair affectionately.  “My Pop and Jones already at eachother’s throats?”  He asked in a low whisper.

She held up her thumb and forefinger, indicating ‘just a little’ and he chuckled, shaking his head.  “Pop’s pretty old-fashioned.”  He said, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was a warning or an excuse or something else.

“Velvet, I’d like you to meet my brother Caleb.”  Jonah said, half-laughing at something the boy had just said or done.  “Caleb, this is my good friend Velvet.”

“A pleasure to meet you.”  The boy said, and Velvet couldn’t help raising her brows at the formality.  Then, “Is that your real name?”  He asked quickly.

She giggled, signaling to Jonah and Nolan that she wasn’t the least bit put-off by the query.  “It really is.”  She answered.  “My mother was debating between that or Lacey, and I think I’m glad she went with Velvet. What do you think?”

The boy laughed.  “Lace is for old ladies.”  He said decisively. “How old are you?”  He asked next.

She let out a trill of laughter.  She wasn’t ever around children much.  She decided she liked Caleb Delaney very much.  “Not old enough for stuffy old lace!”  She said, and felt Jonah’s arm wrap around her shoulder.  “I’m seventeen.”  She answered.  “Almost eighteen.  How old are you?”

She watched the boy’s eyes flick to her hugely pregnant belly before he answered.  “I just turned eleven.”  He answered proudly.  “How old are you Jonesie?” 

“Alright, enough with the third degree.”  Jonah said, laughing.  “Ma in the kitchen?”

Nolan grinned.  “She is.  Making your favorite, you lucky dog.”  He winked at the pair of them before suddenly seizing his little brother and throwing him over his shoulder, cave-man style.  “Let’s go finish the game before we have to go in to dinner.”  He declared over the boy’s surprised peals of laughter.

Velvet allowed herself to be led from the parlor back into the front entryway where Jonah pulled her as close as possible, with her huge belly in the way, and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.  “I love you.”  He whispered, searching her eyes, looking deep into her.

She sighed.  “I love you with all my heart.”  She replied effortlessly.  The more often she said it the more it felt right, the less it felt like her husband might appear in a cloud of dark smoke and challenge Jonah to a duel.  The more she said it the lighter her heart felt, a little freer every time from the shackles of her disastrous marriage.

“Your Lemonade, Mrs. Grey.”  The disapproving voice of Mr. Delaney grumbled to her right.

“Pops—“  Jonah spoke through clenched teeth.

“Thank you, Mr. Delaney.”  Velvet cooed, stepping out of Jonoah’s arms hurriedly and taking the offered beverage with her best smile.  He looked at her as though she were an unclean temptress.  She sipped the iced lemonade and felt the cool, tart zip of energy returning to her frustratingly sapped body.  It went a long way in clearing her head, too.  “You have a lovely home.”  She spoke genially, despite his stern, unforgiving countenance.  “I simply adore the historic district.”  She sipped again and willed her skittering nerves to subside.  “Would you mind terribly giving me a tour?”

“I’ll show you—“  Jonah began, but his father cut across him with authority.

“I’d be glad to give you a tour.”  He answered in the affirmative, but Velvet was certain the ‘glad’ had been a mere figure of speech.  Determined might have been the better choice of word there.  He offered his arm, which took her aback, but then she remembered her advanced state of pregnancy and how it tended to make older folks think her fragile and helpless.  She smiled graciously and slipped her arm thorugh his while handing her perspiring lemonade glass to Jonah, who took it from her reflexively.   “We’ll start upstairs—that way we can finish in the dining room for dinner.”

She laughed lightly.  “You’ve given this tour before, haven’t you, sir?” 

To her enormous delight and relief she saw his lips twitch and his eyes crinkle just a bit.  “Ah, once or twice.”  He admitted, his voice flavored with pride.  “We’re on the historic society’s tour, afterall.”

Velvet raised her eyebrows as they started for the wide, graceful staircase.  “Are you?”  She asked, letting her tone show a proper level of impressed.  “How many homes receive such an honor?”  It was the right question.  The man looked proud enough to strut.

“Only three private homes on the tour.”  He informed her importantly.  As they began to climb he stopped and turned.  “I can manage, young man.”  He spoke to Jonah, who had followed them and seemed intent to accompany them on the tour.  “Your mother asked to see you in the kitchen before dinner.”

Jonah frowned, his brows drawing together fiercely.  With her free hand Velvet reached over and gave his hand a squeeze.  He searched her face.  She smiled.  “Go on.”  She told him gently.  “I’m in good hands.”  She dazzled Mr. Delaney with a warm smile, and it did seem to melt his rigid cold at least a smidgen.

“I wouldn’t keep that woman waiting if I were you, boy.”  Mr. Delaney cautioned, and, dismissing his son turned and resumed the climb up the wide Victorian staircase, with Velvet on his arm, discussing crown molding and lead glass windows.

Velvet turned her head as she ascended, keeping Jonah in her eyeline for a few moments, her eyes locked on his violet stare.  “I love you” she mouthed over her shoulder.

His right hand slipped over his left breast and he smiled, his face a mixture of concern and yearning.  “I’m yours.”  He mouthed back.

With a giddy smile rooted in the security of a good man’s love, she turned her face front once more, and complimented the detailed woodwork on the newel post as they approached the second floor landing.

“He still standing down there mooning at you?”  Mr. Delaney asked in a low voice.

Velvet startled before glancing back over her shoulder and giggling.  “No.”  She told him.  “He’s finally cleared off.”

The older man nodded gruffly.  “Damned romantic fool.”  He muttered.

Velvet smiled fondly.  “You’ve raised a good man, Mr. Delaney.”  She told him, her tone heartfelt and open.

Ethan Delaney clucked his tongue and shook his head.  “That’s what they keep telling me.”  He sounded skeptical.  “Not sure good men run off with other men’s wives.”  He leveled.  “This marble is original to the home.”  He added, gesturing to the tiles on the upstairs bathroom tile. 

Velvet’s eyes widened at the man’s candor.  “Italian?”  She murmured politely. 

“Spain, I think.”

She nodded.

“What are your plans?”  He asked her.  “Clawfoot.”  He gestured to the old fashioned tub.  “Iron.”

“Must weigh a ton.”  She exclaimed softly.

He grunted.  “You haven’t much time left, have you?”  He continued, steering her toward an upstairs parlor.  “The Ladies Salon.”  He informed her dispassionately.  “We use it as part library, part sewing room.”

“The ceilings are higher than I’d expected.”  Velvet commented, wondering how she should make answer to his more pointed questions.

He nodded.  “Ten foot.”  He supplied.  “Twelve downstairs.  And The attic is about eight, excepting where is slants.”

“Is it finished?  I mean, do you have attic guest rooms?”

“The boys used to play up there as kids, but, no, we never did anything too formal with it.”  He stopped before a larger window with a built-in window seat.  “Because there’s no sense pulling that boy into a love triangle if he doesn’t stand a chance, and letting him get attached to a child that he can’t raise when you go back to your husband.”  He told her matter-of-factly.

Velvet gazed through the original lead glass window panes at a charming backyard and a graceful oak tree with a rope swing—the kind with the wide wooden plank type of seat, maybe big enough for two.  “I have no plans to go back to my husband.”  She told him quietly.  She was feeling a heat allover that had nothing to do with the hazy august heat outside.  He’d made her feel ashamed.  And embarrassed.  And smaller than she’d felt in a long time.

He made a disbelieving sort of noise in his throat.  “That oak is as old as the town, so they say.” 

Velvet nodded absently, and stared at the thick trunk, the sturdy branches, the full, healthy green foliage.  Tall and strong and sturdy.  Good.  She’d bet it turned auburn red in the fall.  This tree reminded her of Jonah.

“I don’t want my son raised by that awful man.”  She whispered, not sure what made her confess this to a man she’d only just met.

Ethan Delaney sighed.  “And you’d rather my son have the job?”  He asked.

Velvet swallowed the sticky thickness of her tongue and wished she’d brought her lemonade with her.  “I would.”  She admitted.

“Why on earth?”

She smiled at the tree before meeting the older man’s intent stare.  “He’s the finest man I’ve ever met.”  She told him squarely.  “He saved my life.”  She shrugged her slight shoulders.  “I love him.”  Within her the baby stirred and whirred.  Her free hand went to the roundness in response and she ran her fingers over the linen-covered orb lovingly.

“So you’re a romantic too.”  Jonah’s father frowned, his tone colored with something close to disgust.

She smiled sadly.  “I lost my head for the wrong man, sir.”  She told him plainly.  “I was silly and I acted foolishly, and I have paid the price.”  He narrowed his eyes at her but she continued.  “I will be more careful this time—“  She smiled wistfully,  “but I know it’s right this time.”  She asserted.  “I can feel it.”

Ethan Delaney studied her carefully for several long moments, sizing her up, taking the measure of her.  “You’re a very lovely girl.”  He told her begrudgingly.  “And you’re not as vapid as I expected you to be.”  He allowed.  Velvet held her sweet smile in place and decided to withhold comment until she was quite sure he was done.  “But you’re young.”  He decided.  “And too romantic for your own good, and you’re used to getting whatever you want.”  She wanted to protest, but held her tongue uncharacteristically still.  “I know your mother, and I knew your father.”  He told her, and it didn’t resonate as a positive statement the way he said it, somehow.  “You’re thinking you want a man to worship you, spend his life devoted to you, give you a respectable home and a fresh, clean start; someone to put down roots with?”  He nodded, the question was rhetorical.  “Well, you’ve found your man, little girl.”  He concluded.  “But I don’t think that’s really what you want, is it, Mrs. Grey?”

Velvet’s jaw fell open and she shook her head.  What did he mean?  “I—“

“Pops.”  A voice said calmly from the door of the glorified study and sewing room.  The voice sounded perfectly pleasant, but Velvet thought she detected a note of warning.  “Wanna wrap up the tour?  Food’s ready, and Ma doesn’t like to wait.”  Nolan said with a half smile.

Ethan Delaney grumbled something indistinct. Before walking the tow of them toward Nolan and easily transferring Velvet’s hand to Nolan’s arm.  “Now here’s the one with sense.”  He muttered.

“Not to mention the good looks.”  Nolan quipped charmingly.

Velvet was still too stunned to manage a smile.  She stared at the older man as he trundled out of the room, leaving her alone with Nolan.  It was quiet.  She could hear a lark, or a starling maybe, singing in the handsome oak outside.  She became aware of the soft ticking of an analog clock somewhere in the room.  The house smelled clean, like lemon verbena and bergamot and lavender.  And old woodwork.  And antique books.

“Don’t listen to a word he says.”  Nolan finally broke the silence in a very soft voice.

She licked her lips and stared after the man, now disappeared from view.  “You have a lovely home.”  She said jerkily.

Nolan sighed.  “C’mon.”  He urged her carefully.  “Let’s get you downstairs and get the two of you some more lemonade.”  She could hear the smile in his voice.

The corners of her lips lifted as she rubbed her round belly in a soothing, repetitive motion.  “We’re going to have a nice home and a nice family and a big oak tree for him to climb.”  She told Nolan, her eyes far away, her voice small and almost girlish, but for the aching determination lacing it with bone and substance.

“And we’ll build him a treehouse, and teach him to swing on the rope swing.”  Nolan added softly.

She felt her lips form a genuine smile.  “And he’ll have a lemonade stand in the shade on hot August days.”

Nolan chuckled.  “His mama’s favorite.”  

“Nolan?”  She asked, as he led her to the top of the back stairs, what surely would have been the servant’s stair and had some history behind them that Velvet would have been made aware of, were she still on Mr. Delaney’s solid arm.

“Hmm?”  These stairs were narrower, they wouldn’t be able to negotiate them side-by-side.

“Do you think we’re crazy?”  She asked, at last turning to him and searching his stormy blue-gray eyes.  “Do you think we’re too romantic for our own good?”

He smiled kindly, if a touch sadly.   “I think you both need a healthy dose of Romance, Sis.”  He told her.

Her lips parted.  What had he just called her?  She tilted her head to the side and stared at him, a smile beginning to open and spread across her astonished face.  He shrugged and grinned a most charming grin. 

“C’mon.”  He urged her.  “You don’t want to make a bad impression on the future mother-in-law by turning up late to Sunday dinner.”  He winked and directed her hand to the handrail.  “Besides, Jonah’s probably having kittens down there, he’s so nervous about what Pop might’ve said to you.”

Velvet began the descent down the servant’s stair, and she could smell fresh basil and warm bread, and the baby adjusted positions eagerly (she imagined) within her.  She was smiling now.  “Why, he told me that I’ve found a man to start fresh with, a man who’ll love me and cherish me and a man to put down roots with.”  She breezed gaily.

Behind her Nolan laughed appreciatively.

“I see you’ve already figured out the best way to handle Pops, then.”

She giggled.  “Not a problem.”  She told him, taking the steps as quickly as she could with her off-balance and her cumbersome extra weight.  That bread was making her salivate.  “It’s much the same way I handle my mother.”  She told him honestly. 

“Velvet.”  He said, when she’d reached the bottom of the stairs at last.  She turned and looked up at him, eyebrows up and her face expectant.  He shook his head and closed his mouth.  “Just—“  He closed his mouth again and looked at his shoes for a moment.  Velvet furrowed her brow and wondered what on earth he needed to say to her.  “Just.  Well.” He laughed.  “My Mother’s not so easy.”  He leveled with her.

She frowned.  Oh Dear.  If Celia Calder and Ethan Delaney were considered ‘easy’ to deal with by comparison to Mrs. Delaney, Velvet wasn’t sure she was ready for Sunday dinner.

A Nice Night For A Surprise; part 2

It was confusing.  Seeing it.  He couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing at first. He’d always imagined it would feel different, walking in on something like that, seeing the betrayal, but Caleb felt largely bewildered.  Initially.  And embarrassed.  Because he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.  Walked in on something intimate and illicit and he felt ashamed, like a child might at glimpsing a graphic movie scene or accidentally catching his parents in a private moment.

And he apologized.  He felt the imperative to speak, to make his presence known, and all that sprang to his lips was “I’m sorry.”

And everything started happening very fast.  Gideon leapt up, the young man grabbed a pillow to cover himself, and Caleb started backing out of the room apologizing repeatedly.  It took Gideon a moment to throw on his robe and chase after Caleb and he didn’t manage to catch up with him until the kitchen. 

“Caleb, please, Caleb, stop.”

And Caleb did stop.  He was dazed.  And dizzy?  He couldn’t really tell.  Nothing made sense.  He stopped beside the kitchen island and waited for Gideon to catch up.

“Honey, please—“  Gideon placed his hand gently on Caleb’s back and that’s when it started to hurt.  That’s when the confusion gave way to sharp understanding, when the embarrassment shifted into grief, when the numbness was replaced by the burning, constricting agony of betrayal.

Caleb stepped out of Gideon’s reach.  “No.”

“Caleb, honey, please just listen—“

“No.”  What was there to be said?  He couldn’t look at Gideon.  He walked toward the entryway.

“Caleb!” 

Caleb was dimly aware, as he opened the big yellow door, that this was his home, his townhouse and that he should be asking Gideon and the young man to leave, but he knew he couldn’t do that.  He just needed to go.  He needed to be far away from their bedroom and their picnic that he’d set out on their living room floor, and their life together.  He needed to get the hell away from it all.

“I love you.”  Gideon said, grabbing the big yellow door before Caleb could shut it in his face.

Caleb froze.  His mouth was dry and his hands, he realized, were shaking, his thoughts were jumbled and he felt an actual, physical pain all over his body, as though he had been tortured on a rack or something.  Were his lips numb?  Jesus.  He was dizzy.  Lightheaded. 

“I love you.”  Gideon repeated, more softly, more urgently.  “Please, please don’t go- please stay, please, we’ll talk—“

“I’m sorry.”  Caleb said slowly.

Gideon paused, his mouth open, his face angst ridden. 

Caleb looked at him and had the strangest sensation that he was looking at a stranger, or an acquaintance from some distant memory.  He studied those deep concerned eyes, the proud nose, the chiseled jaw, and he didn’t see the man he loved, couldn’t seem to recognize the lover he had been about to ask to marry him.  He didn’t know who he was looking at and he felt nauseated.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”  Gideon said, miserable.

Caleb winced and blinked rapidly.  He was crying, he hadn’t realized that he was crying and wondered when the tears had started.  He shook his head, trying to focus, trying to dispel some of the lightheaded fuzziness that was threatening to engulf his consciousness.  “No.”  He said softly.  “No.”

Gideon reached out, maybe to be tender, maybe to help steady him, he couldn’t be sure.  Either way Caleb knew he couldn’t let him touch him again.  Not ever again.  He dodged the outstretched hand and backed away.  “No.”

“Don’t go like this.”  Gideon begged.  “Please, just talk to me, Caleb, you can’t go like this.”

Caleb backed slowly and carefully down the brick steps, shaking his head and keeping his eyes on that handsome but unrecognizable person by the big yellow door.  His chest felt so heavy, he felt like he might be crushed under the weight of some invisible force.  The pain of it stole his breath. 

Caleb saw movement somewhere behind Gideon and knew the young man must have thrown some clothes on and come down stairs.  He pressed his eyes closed.  He didn’t want to see him.  Didn’t want to know who he was.  He’d seen more than enough already.  “I’m sorry.”  Caleb said desperately and, spinning on his heel, fled back to his car, fumbled in his pants pocket for the keys, threw himself behind the wheel and got out of there as fast as he could manage. 

He was reckless and scattered and panicked and manic and he didn’t know where to go, but he needed to go.  He had to. 

A Nice Night For A Surprise

Caleb didn’t call Gideon when he managed to get off work a few hours early.  He wanted to surprise him.  He left the radio station buoyant, decided to head over to the centre street shops and pick up some wine, some artisanal bread and some fresh fruit and aged cheese.  He had something on his mind that he wanted to talk to Gideon about and, well, he wanted the evening to be special.

Centre Street in Cedar Falls was part of the very heart of the most adorable, the most tourist friendly historic downtowns in the entire state.  Centre Street, with its small shops, upscale boutiques and artisan storefronts was one of Caleb’s favorite places in the world.  It stretched all the way up to the Main street, where City Hall sat gracefully on the hill, presiding over the whole of downtown, to the waterfront at river street, so the view up and down Centre was always charming and lovely.  A street over, to the north, was Cedar parkway, where various town offices could be found, such as the school department, the housing authority, and it was also a popular location for dentists and private practices, and at the top of Cedar Parkway lay Cedarwood Park with the Pavilion and the gazebo and benches and trees and flowers and bikepaths.  A street over to the south stretched Maple, which hooked up with Elm and those were the streets you went to for all the best food, the best shoe shopping and that’s where you’d find the haberdasher, the barber, and the Hibernian hall. 

Various diminutive forms of cedar trees lined Centre Street and it was picturesque, clean, and it honestly had a little something for just about everyone.  A bakery and chocolate shop, a sandwich shop, a miniature little grocery; a smoke shop, a paint your own pottery center, several cafes, jewelry stores and bookshops; An art gallery, a music store, several posh restaurants, a Mom & Pop pizza parlor, a few clothing boutiques, a hair salon, a day spa, an Italian deli, a cheese shop, a new-age shop, a specialty candle and soap shop; an apothecary, a travel agent, antiques, collectibles, an ice cream parlor and a pet store.  And Caleb’s favorite place, perhaps because he was biased, was his brother’s Wine Shoppe, a perfect little store that was welcoming, classic--but modern enough to feel selective-- and chic.

He parked in the handicap spot.  He’d only be a minute.  He’d already picked up some fruit at the little grocery, some cheese from the imported cheese shop and grabbed a baguette and a ciabatta just as the Artisan bread place was trying to close for the night.  He just needed the wine and he’d be on his way home.  To Gideon.  He smiled.

It was a wine tasting night.  No wonder there hadn’t been any other spots available at the storefront.  Caleb hated that he had the car at all.  Downtown Cedar Falls was best enjoyed on foot.  Cars only cluttered it up.

His brother looked up automatically from where he was showing an attractive older couple some stylish looking bottle and smiled broadly at Caleb, giving a half a wave and a ‘one minute’ finger.  Caleb nodded, returning the smile, and headed toward the refrigerated section.  He wanted some champagne maybe.  Or maybe not something so, well, so expected or expectant.  Maybe just a nice Asti or a pleasant little white something-or-other.  No need to go counting chickens with the champagne.  He smiled. 

Some jazz was playing softly over the speakers and the lights were warm, inviting.  These wine tastings were really quite charming.  Caleb scanned the crowd quickly as he made his way to the large glass doors of the walk-in.  It was a decent turn-out and it was only eightish.  On tasting nights Nolan kept the shoppe open till ten in order to draw a young, sophisticated crowd, but the event always started at about five so the older folks could come and enjoy it as well, and the people who’d just got out of work around the downtown area.

Standing at the refrigerator he looked over the selection distractedly.  He saw a few that looked nice, one or two he’d had before, but really he was just waiting for his brother to come help him choose a good one.  Of course his brother would argue that all the wines he stocked in his shop were good.  It was likely the truth.  Caleb didn’t really know, he left that business to the expert.

“You’re going to get a ticket.”  Warned Nolan, walking toward him with a smile.

Caleb grinned.  “I’m just popping in and out.”

Nolan hugged his brother.  “Out of work early?”

Caleb nodded.  “I’d like something light and fun.  I’m surprising Gideon.”

Nolan smiled even wider.  “It’s a good night for it I think.”  He said, his eyes sliding to something beyond Caleb, behind his back.  Caleb turned over his shoulder to see his beautiful sister-in-law chatting animatedly with several customers by the table of horsd’ouvres.  So that was why Nolan looked especially relaxed and contented this evening.

Caleb turned back to his brother and felt like his face might split from smiling so widely.  “Who’s watching the kids?”

Nolan laughed.  He was as chipper as a school-boy.  It was sweet.  “The twins went over.”  He said, meaning their teenaged nieces.  So it was kind of like a date-night for Nolan.  He may have had to work, but Caleb had the feeling that tasting nights weren’t really quite the same as regular work, and now that Zahra was here with him, well, his brother looked over-the-moon.  He felt glad for his brother.  He and Zee hardly ever got time to themselves.  He sincerely hoped they’d stay late after the guests had gone, after they locked up, cleaned up, and turned down the lights, and just take the time to slow dance and finish a bottle of some wonderful wine together.

“Alright, is it a celebration?”  Nolan asked, unable to keep from grinning as he looked toward the shelves of chilling wines.

Hmmm.  Caleb hoped so.  “Not specifically.”  He dodged.  “Just a nice night for a surprise.  Maybe a little indoor picnic.”  He hoped it gave his brother some ideas for later.

Judging by the way his eyes got far away for a moment and the glance he stole over to his wife, Caleb was pretty sure he had, indeed, planted a fertile little seed in Nolan’s imagination. 

“Cheese and fruit and bread?”

“You got it.”  Caleb chuckled.

Nolan opened the refrigerator and pulled out a sexy little number.  “Crisp, light, and some bubbles.”  He said “You’ll love it.”

He hoped it had a cork that might pop off with a flourish.  “Will Gideon?”  Caleb could feel his excitement mounting.

Nolan looked thoughtful.  “I’ve told you a hundred times that Gideon likes red.”  He said, but his voice was light, easy.

“Then by all means, grab me a red one too.”

Nolan shook his head, laughing quietly, and moved easily toward a section of racks.  He scanned the rows and after a moment pulled an attractive label from below.  “This is excellent.”  He said affectionately, handing it over as if it were precious.  “I think he’ll really enjoy it.”  His eyes met Caleb’s and crinkled at the corners.  “You might even find it to your tastes too, little brother.  Have it with some gruyere.”

Caleb rolled his eyes.  He really did not like red wines, but his brother had yet to give up.

“Thank you.”  He said a little flippantly, and then again more genuinely “Thank you a lot.”

Nolan’s smile softened and his eyes were warm.  “Not a problem.”  He said quietly.  “Now get the hell outta that parking spot you asshole.”