Chapter 6: Out of Light


It can be a real long road;
It can be a lonely night,
When you're on your own,
And you're running out of light.

- When The Time Is Right - Griffin House


The plane was actually on time, an unexpected surprise for which Kevin was grateful. He had been unable to relax as he waited in the terminal - unable to dismiss thoughts of being intercepted by airport security and hauled off to jail as a possible terrorist threat when the powers-that-be discovered that his ID was bogus. This was the first official test of his new documents, and he couldn't help thinking that his precautions might not have been sufficient, that this could end very badly for him.

Didn't happen, and he should have been overwhelmed with a sense of relief. Apparently, in the eyes of the authorities in charge of airport security, who were by their very nature among the most vigilant defenders of public safety, the neat young man in Levi's and a deep blue, long-sleeved, Tommy Hilfiger rugby shirt was exactly who he claimed to be - Andrew K. Wynter, a bartender from the quaint little village of Piper's Canyon, California; height - 5' 11", weight - 168 lbs, black hair, blue eyes. Single.

Odd, he thought. He had expected to be pleased to receive the documentation that would validate his newly minted vital statistics. And he had been - until he'd read the note that came with the various documents and learned that all of the official records, which were safely tucked away in various public information systems, would indicate that he had never been married. 

Scotty Wendell had been the center of his life for almost five years. And now he was gone. It had never mattered to either of them that the "marriage" was not "real" in the eyes of the law; that had not made it any less "real" to the two of them.

Now he could invoke his impeccable logic in order to accept that it was better that way. No messy divorce to endure. No nasty details like property settlements or custody of the (non-existent) dog, or child support . . . He felt something twist in his gut as that term erupted in his mind, invoking a pain that never seemed to go away, no matter how much time passed. He tried - and failed - not to remember the last call they'd received from Michelle on that fateful day that no one liked to recall; he always thought of it as "the day the earth stood still" - literally. She had sounded devastated and broken and ashamed, and he supposed he would always feel guilty for the anger that had exploded within him as he'd tried to digest the jumble of terms she was offering up as an explanation: unviable fetus, chromosomal abnormality, cervical effacement, faulty implantation, and - somehow most painful of all - spontaneous abortion. They didn't even call it a 'miscarriage' at that stage, but the bottom line was the same, no matter how it was phrased: no baby. Maybe that's why he'd been so angry; maybe that's why he'd never quite been able to forgive her, even though he knew, in his rational moments, that she was not to blame for the loss of the child that would have provided the final, permanent tie to cement his marriage to Scotty.

He wished he could believe that Scotty had never identified his feelings for the woman who had done so much for them, in her attempt to be their surrogate; he wished that Scotty could have assumed that he was above such petty resentment. But he knew better. He'd never mentioned it, never said a single word, but Scotty had understood exactly what Kevin was feeling, and forgave him anyway. Which made the guilt just that much heavier to bear.

When the boarding call was announced, he was grateful for the interruption of his maudlin musings. He sighed and picked up his carry-all - the only luggage he would need for his one-day stay - and removed his boarding pass from his shirt pocket. It was a relief to be moving, as an alternative to sitting and thinking, and he was determined that he would find something to occupy his mind during American Airlines flight #7059, from Sacramento to Seattle, which would take approximately one hour and fifty-two minutes, gate to gate. Maybe he'd watch a movie. He hadn't yet seen the newly-released DVD of Depp's last film, but he doubted it would be available on such a short domestic flight. So maybe he'd play a game on his laptop, but then he'd have to resist that almost overwhelming temptation to go to his personal files and browse through the hundreds of photographs stored there, the ones he knew he should delete - but couldn't. Okay, not that then, but he was so determined to occupy his time with some kind of mindless trivia that he almost hoped to wind up next to a chatty fellow traveler. That thought made him smile, as he was not ordinarily one to seek conversation with strangers.

Maybe he'd just turn on his Kindle and lose himself in one of the novels he'd recently downloaded. Maybe even Grossman's To The End of The Land, but then he remembered the subject matter and realized that this was a place he wasn't ready to visit; he had his own flight from reality to deal with, without reading about a fictional one. So maybe he'd try the new Stephen King anthology. If he was very lucky, he'd become so entranced with the devious plot and colorful narrative that he'd forget to worry about what lay behind him - or what lay ahead of him.

The plane was not overly crowded, and he took his seat by the window, and gazed out across the bustling airport, watching idly as baggage handlers loaded the cargo bay with luggage bearing labels like Samsonite and American Tourister and even Louis Vuitton, although not so many of the last; this was still California, all right, but it was Sacramento - not LA. His own bag, a Gucci leather duffle, was stowed in the overhead compartment. He had debated trading it for something less showy - less obviously 'designer' - but had decided to hang on to it, realizing he could always say he'd picked it up at a garage sale.

For a while, he thought he would have the seat to himself, but, boarding last and just making it through the closing hatch, a young man came strolling down the aisle, stowed a tattered canvas bag in the overhead, and sat down beside Kevin with a warm smile. Green eyes, dark hair with auburn highlights, cheekbones as sharp as razors, a lean, muscular body, and a tan that spoke of days, weeks - years perhaps - riding the waves at Waimea Bay or Rocky Point or the Banzai Pipeline.

In other words, trouble. 

Kevin had not exercised his gay-dar in a very long time, but realized that it was still as sharp as ever as he noticed the appreciative spark in the young man's eyes.

"Hi." The voice was slightly husky.

"Hello." Kevin answered as he deliberately retrieved his Kindle from his shirt pocket.

"Nice day for flying."

Kevin was careful to make sure his smile was disinterested, slightly patronizing. "Guess so."

Green eyes dropped, deliberately examining the body beneath the colorful shirt. "You surf?"

"Back in the day," Kevin answered, rather pleased to come up with a response that should effectively illuminate the generation gap between them, but . . .

"What takes you to Seattle?"

Okay. Time to nip this in the bud. "Going to my daughter's wedding," he replied, straight-faced, therein accomplishing two goals with one sentence; indicating that he was neither gay, nor young enough to be interested in post-pubescent Joe College - no matter how gorgeous.

The young man was not quite experienced enough in the art of gay seduction to be able to hide the quick shadow of disappointment in his eyes, and Kevin felt a moment of shame. He was not proud of what he'd had to do in order to step out of his old life and into a completely new identity, but he knew it had to be this way. Piper's Canyon was a product of California by geography, not by social attitude, and he'd had to accept that. To live in that small, insular community and be accepted, he'd had to do something he'd promised himself he would never do. In an act of self preservation, he'd been forced to step back into the closet he'd abandoned when he was sixteen years old. He was not proud of it, but he knew that he would have to remain there, concealing his true nature, until he had put enough space between the life he'd lived before and the new one he hoped to build that he wouldn't have to endure the fear of being found out and dragged back into yesterdays he could no longer endure. 

To achieve anonymity as a gay man required taking up residence in a larger city, and that he dared not risk. Not only had he been well acquainted with a lot of members of the legal profession in such places, but his face had become quite recognizable during his time as Robert's communications director and media liaison.

For the moment, big cities were best avoided. Thus Piper's Canyon, it was - insular, isolated, and mostly uninterested in the world beyond its borders. He didn't dwell much on the reason for his choice, but some little part of his mind understood that it was because the village was symbolic of his childhood - a faint link to the small number of yesterdays that he actually wanted to preserve.

He would have liked to believe that the residents of his new home town would not condemn him for his sexual identity, but, in his heart, he knew better. He'd met a lot of the locals, both male and female, since he'd started working at the Pub, and found most of them affable and friendly and generally content to accept his vague explanations about his past without demanding any details. But he'd also heard the sotto voce comments made among the tavern's regulars and noticed how they watched and measured when any stranger came wandering in who did not quite live up to their standards of traditional masculine deportment. Maybe the hair was a little too long, and curled a little too perfectly around the ear. Or maybe the jeans were worn just that much too tight, cupping a pert bubble butt a little too perfectly. Or maybe it was an inflection of the voice or a look in the eye or the condition of manicured mails or the barest hint of a swish in mannerisms or a sway in the walk. Kevin wasn't always sure what it was that set them off, but he could always tell when it happened. They were never anything but polite, of course, and there was nothing overtly rude or challenging in their behavior. But it was there in their expressions, in the wariness in their eyes, and the way their fists clenched and unclenched as they watched in silence until the newcomer, sensing a chill in the air that he couldn't quite define, decided that he would best be moving along.

Of course, he was careful to conceal his smiles on the rare occasion when someone walked in, and no one so much as spared a second look, while his own intuitive ability to spot a fellow gay man was strobing a red alert.

The locals practiced a subtle form of homophobia, quiet, even harmless to a degree, but ultimately every bit as real as the kind that got young gay kids bashed to death in the mean streets of big cities or strung up on farms in Wyoming. And it was enough to convince Kevin that he'd made the right choice; to reveal who and what he was would be to take his life in his hands. The villagers' behavior was never overt or loud or challenging, but it was homophobic, nonetheless, and to hell with the national public perception of California's gay-friendly ambiance. 

The decision to step away from the man he had grown up to be had been almost as hard as walking away from his life in the first place, and, emotionally, it had been almost as crippling, because he quickly realized that he didn't know how to be someone else. He still woke up crying sometimes, although he couldn't be sure which betrayal had driven him to tears at any given moment. He had betrayed his family, betrayed his husband - the love of his life - and betrayed himself, and no dalliance with a willing, sun-gilded surfer was going to make up for any of it.

Nevertheless, he allowed his gaze to linger for a moment, noting the quick flash of dimples as the young man favored him with one more smile - resigned now but still interested, despite himself. A college kid, thought Kevin, and young enough - almost - to be his son, but still . . . tempting. Moving very deliberately and unable to completely squelch a tiny, rueful smile, he put his Kindle away and settled back against his headrest, feigning sleep, and spent the next half hour concentrating on not imagining how that lithe, golden body would look lying bare and comely against rumpled, white sheets, or, even worse, remembering another lithe body - the absolutely perfect body - lying in a pool of sunlight on a lazy Sunday morning, sensual and spent and glowing with sexual satisfaction.

Damn! Better to think about the actual living temptation beside him than the memory that always threatened to destroy him if he let it take hold.

On the other hand . . .

He allowed himself a tiny sigh. He'd thought he'd gotten better at this; he'd thought a time would come when he wouldn't even notice when some luscious young stud favored him with a come-hither look. Obviously, he'd been dead wrong.

So, to drag his mind away from where he could not allow it to go, he turned his thoughts to the hours yet to come - to the chore he had set for himself, and how he had to go about it, in order to spare anyone any more pain. Excepting him, of course, because he could not deceive himself; this was going to hurt.

He'd taken as much care as possible, avoiding unnecessary risks and making sure that the timing was perfect for his purposes. In the Walker family, there were always excuses for almost any transgression - except one. If one were a product of the union of Nora and William Walker, one did not, under any circumstances, dare to fail to be present for the celebration of Nora Walker's birthday. Such behavior had been a cardinal sin while William lived, and had become even more unforgivable since his death. This year would be no exception; it might, in fact, be even more vital than usual. Since the chances of Kevin being present were virtually non-existent, none of them would risk failing to show up - in order to try to fill the void, more or less.

So he could safely assume that they would all be there. Even Tommy. And he'd made doubly sure of that by checking with the airlines to confirm the reservations made for Thomas Walker, Seattle to LAX. Luckily all of Tommy's vital statistics were still listed in a file in his laptop, including things like driver's license number and credit card data, so it was no problem to identify himself as the man who had so carelessly mislaid his flight information. He thought it slightly ironic that Tommy would be departing from the Seattle airport a scant four hours before he himself would be arriving.

From that point, he had only one more major cast member to confront, and he had to confess that he had no idea how that individual would react.

He hadn't wanted to take this risk, had wanted to spare anyone else the discomfort of being a part of his deception, but could not, in good conscience, do anything other than what he was doing. He had tried to ignore the thoughts that kept sneaking into the back doors of his mind - but couldn't. As time went on, he had been plagued more and more frequently with memories of Elizabeth as she'd looked in the hospital, fighting for her life when her young liver had failed; memories that tormented him with the knowledge that it had been his body that provided the means for her cure, when none other would do. What if . . . what if it happened again? The same kind of thing, or something similar. What if she needed something else, something only he could provide, and no one knew how to reach him?

He couldn't live with that, so he had no choice. He had to trust Julia, and pray that he could convince her not to betray his confidence. In truth, he didn't have much hope of success; why, after all, should she trust him or help him? She'd undoubtedly heard the whole ugly story from Tommy, so why would she . . .

He drew a deep breath, realizing that he had no choice but to try. He had accepted the bottom line truth a long time ago. Genetics and biology notwithstanding, Tommy was Elizabeth's legal father, but that didn't seem to matter to the small, private part of Kevin's heart that claimed her as his own and knew that he would never be able to turn his back on her. Thus, this crazy mission had to succeed; he had to find a way to convince Julia to allow him to remain a part of the life of the daughter they shared, whether or not that fundamental truth was ever acknowledged.

"You okay, Man?" said a soft, hesitant voice murmuring directly into his ear.

Kevin sat up abruptly, trying to wipe his eyes surreptitiously. "I'm fine," he replied. "Just fine."

The young man lifted one hand and gently, tentatively wiped away a tear that clung stubbornly to Kevin's eyelashes. "Sure you are."

Kevin turned slightly and looked deep into eyes like dark emeralds and wanted - for a single second - to accept the offer he read there, to lean forward and devour those perfect, bee-stung lips and lose himself in the lines and angles and curves of that perfect body.

For one single second.

Luckily - or unluckily, he would never be sure which - the sound system chose that moment to broadcast a brief burst of static before the pilot's voice announced that they were landing.

Joe College's smile was bittersweet as he laid a comforting hand against Kevin's chest - there and gone, almost too quickly to notice. "I hear that everybody cries at weddings," he said softly. "You're just getting started a little early." He paused for a second, eyes once more examining Kevin's face. "I'll bet she's beautiful." 

Kevin looked away, refusing to meet that speculative gaze, and thought instead about Elizabeth.

"Yeah, she is."

"Like her daddy, then."

The smile was irrepressible as he recalled some of Tommy's remarks about his daughter's curls.

"Not so much. More like her mom."

The young man did not actually say, "That's a shame," but it was there to read in his face.

Kevin thought he'd never in his life been so relieved to hear the sound of scorching rubber, as the tires slammed into the runway. There was no lingering when the plane rolled to a stop, and the seatbelt light flickered off. His seatmate got to his feet quickly, collected his bag, and turned to go as Kevin moved forward to retrieve his own duffle and make his exit. But as they were standing there, waiting for the aisle to clear in front of them, Joe College turned back once more and gave Kevin that sweet, slightly lopsided smile and pressed his hand - just once and very lightly - against Kevin's chest, before reaching up to straighten the collar of the Hilfiger shirt. "See you around," he said very softly.

Then he was gone, leaving Kevin relieved, resigned, and - just slightly - breathless.

Definitely time to go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The playroom was more of a shambles than usual, and Julia grumbled to herself a bit as she tried to sort out toys and books and games. She had never been more grateful for the large, plentiful storage bins that lined one entire wall of the brightly decorated room. She smiled as she looked up and spotted the letters arranged just below the bright, Disney-patterned wallpaper border that topped off walls of pastel stripes, remembering when a certain individual had affixed them, allowing Elizabeth to direct the spacing and placement. She had never seen her daughter happier - not even when her "father" was in residence to play with her.

"Elizabeth's Pumpkin," it read. It was exactly what the little girl had wanted, when she'd been going through her Cinderella phase. It was perfectly Elizabeth, much like the rest of the house was perfectly Julia, all thanks to someone who had insisted on remaining nameless.

It wouldn't do at all for Tommy to discover that it had been his brother - the brother who had provided the seed of life that had become Elizabeth, the brother who was both much-loved and much-resented for that same fact - who had provided the down payment and co-signed the mortgage that allowed Julia to purchase her small but lovely home.

She wondered sometimes if Tommy suspected. She thought he must, at least once in a while, although he obviously preferred to believe that it was her parents who had coughed up the funds. And in that, he was partially right. Though not particularly wealthy, her mom and dad had given her a nest egg to get her started in her new life, a tidy sum to tide her over until the sale of the house she'd owned with Tommy had been completed, and the proceeds had been funneled into her account. Tommy had been off in Mexico then, "finding himself" as Nora had always termed it, and had relinquished his claims on their community property, which had been almost non-existent anyway, after repayment of the funds Tommy had purloined from Ojai Foods and reimbursing Kevin for the money he'd contributed to cover past due mortgage payments, even though he'd been reluctant to accept it. She had insisted, and he'd given in - for a while.

At the same time, she'd tried to repay her parents, but they'd refused to accept, insisting that she use the proceeds from the sale to start rebuilding her life. And she had tried, but found that living on her teacher's salary and supporting Elizabeth had left her with virtually nothing to put away toward the purchase of a suitable home.

It was at that point that Mr. "Nameless" had stepped in. He'd never admitted how he knew what she needed; never even talked about it much. He'd just walked into her rented apartment one sunny morning, handed her an advertisement from a local realtor with a picture of a small, charming, suburban house that he thought perfect for her and her daughter, and presented her with a check to cover the down payment, and a form from a local bank, already filled out and bearing his signature as co-signer, all with the understanding that she was free to opt for a different house if she found one she liked better. All she had to do was accept it.

Pride had almost made her refuse; she hadn't wanted to feel indebted to any Walker. But then she'd looked up and met his eyes and seen the bald truth there. No matter what the legal documents or the hospital records might say, this man was, at heart, Elizabeth's father.

She had accepted his offer and correctly identified the look in his eyes as gratitude and relief. So now here she was, and here Elizabeth was, but . . . where was Kevin?

She'd been devastated by Tommy's phone call, although she'd managed not to show it. Tommy did not know - and did not need to know - about the relationship between her and his brother. She and Kevin had both realized that Tommy would never understand it or condone it.

But now - had she been wrong about everything? Had they never had any kind of relationship at all?

She looked out the window to where Elizabeth was playing in her sandbox, the sun striking sparks of gold in her hair, painting her in dazzling light against the backdrop of pink and rose blossoms covering the flourishing clematis vine that was Julia's current pride and joy. The little girl - four years old now, and growing more precocious by the day - was building roads for her fleet of toy trucks with her best friend, Greg. Was it significant that beautiful, blond Elizabeth had turned out to be a tomboy of the first order, preferring boys' rough and tumble over more feminine pursuits? Would Kevin be disappointed that she no longer showed much interest in ballet and princess dresses and porcelain dolls? Would he . . . would he ever even be around to notice?

She sighed and moved toward the kitchen to prepare dinner, a simple task involving heating up the red beans and rice and ham she had prepared over the week-end, and preparing a fresh salad to go with it. Elizabeth would be happy as a clam; red beans and rice were her favorite.

The house phone rang as she stepped into the sunny kitchen, and she frowned. She had a house phone because . . . well, because there might be an occasion when she would need it. If her cell battery failed maybe, or . . . whatever. But it almost never rang, and she almost didn't answer, figuring it would be some telemarketer for whom she had no time. 

But old habits were hard to break, and she lifted the receiver, prepared to give a two-word response to any sales pitch: "Not interested".

After her clipped "Hello", there was a beat of silence, broken only by a quick indrawn breath, and she almost hung up, even less willing to deal with an obscene caller than a telemarketer.

But she didn't. Something made her wait. Something . . .

"Hi, Julia. It's me."

"Kevin?" she replied softly. "Oh, my God. Kevin, is that really you?"

"In the flesh. I know I should have called ahead, but . . ."

"Ahead? What do you mean ahead?" Then she smiled. "Where are you?"

"Across the street," he replied after a brief hesitation. "I - I want to see you, to talk to you. But I don't want to cause you any trouble, so if you think this is a bad idea, I'll . . ."

"Kevin Walker, if you are not standing at my door by the time I get there to open it, you're in deep trouble. Comprende?"

He laughed, and she thought her heart would break as she recognized the note of relief in his voice. He had not been sure he'd be welcome.

It was absolutely past time to set him straight.

He was there when she opened the door, Kevin - and not Kevin. The same - and different. Instantly recognizable, handsome and more than that - possessed of a deeply beautiful, generous, loving spirit. And yet, though the love was still there in his eyes, the hope that had been the focus of his existence for so long was no longer evident. Instead, there was loneliness and pain and despair. And she realized abruptly that it didn't really matter why he had done what he'd done, why he'd felt compelled to walk out on his old life. Whatever his reasons, it seemed that he hadn't managed to walk out on her, and - more importantly - on her daughter. She threw herself into his arms, and, for a while, neither was quite sure which of them was shedding the copious tears that fell between them, although they did finally realize that the weeping was mutual.

"I know I shouldn't be here," he murmured. "I know it'll put you in the middle of something you want no part of. But . . . but I couldn't just stay away, could I? Just in case . . ."

"Just in case she needs you," she said with a smile. Then she pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. "She'll always need you, and I don't give a damn what I have to do to make sure that she'll always be able to find you when she does."

"Even," he said slowly, "if it means that you'll have to hide it - from Tommy, from everybody?"

"Even if," she answered without a moment of hesitation. "I know we're not supposed to talk about it or acknowledge it - according to the Walker family user's manual - but you know what? I no longer worry about those stupid rules, and you mean more to Elizabeth than you realize. She may never know that she's your biological daughter - although I wouldn't be too sure of that - but she's always known, somehow, that you're more than just her uncle. And if I have to teach her to keep your secret too, well, that's just how it will be."

He ducked his head, trying to hide how touched he was by her words, but he needn't have bothered. She already knew.

"Can I . . . can I see her? Just for a minute?"

"Nope," she replied. "If you think you're going to come waltzing in her and then trip out again after 'a minute', think again, Little brother. You're staying for dinner and . . . when do you have to leave?"

"Flight out at 10:00 AM," he answered, sounding uncertain - but wistful.

"And I just happen to have a lovely spare room," she informed him. 

"No," he replied quickly. "I don't want to impose . . ."

"I think it's up to me to decide if you're imposing, and you're not." She reached up and touched his face. "I know you have to be careful, and I know there are lots of things you won't tell me. But, for tonight, you stay here and you play with your daughter - our daughter, and you tell me whatever you want me to know. And in the morning, I'll go to work, and you'll leave to go back to the new life you're making for yourself, promising only one thing. That you'll call me sometimes - when you need to - and that you'll leave a number where I can reach you. I swear that no one else will ever know."

He studied her face. "How can you do this? How can you just accept what I've done, and still believe in me? I don't deserve it, and . . ."

"Shush," she said sharply, laying her hand across his mouth. "I don't want to hear another word. More than most, I know all about what it's like to live in Walker World, and I don't need to hear the details. You're a good, decent man who's been extraordinarily good to me and to the daughter we share. You're the reason that I have her, and that's all I need to know. My only regret is that you deserve so much more than this, Kevin. You deserve a wonderful future with Scotty, and . . ."

But he was shaking his head. "Maybe I did - once. But no more. But - if you really mean it, I'd love to stay for a while and visit with Elizabeth . . . and you. It's good to see a familiar face."

She smiled and nodded. Then she led him through the house and pulled him out into the back yard where Elizabeth spotted him and responded to his presence with a delighted squeal. Moments later, he was on his butt in the sandbox, completely enchanted with his "niece" and helping Greg construct a bridge across a sand canyon, not caring in the least that he was going to have sand in places that sand was never meant to be. A sprightly spring wind had risen and swirled through the bountiful foliage of Julia's lovely garden, and the warm air picked up a few stray clematis petals, lifting them to float for a moment before dropping them on the young man and the children laughing together. One caught in dark curls, and another in bright gold. Kevin didn't seem to notice, but Julia did, looking down on the playmates and realizing that they had no idea how beautiful they were together.

Obviously, nothing mattered to Kevin but the happy little girl who had curled herself into his lap and was looking up into eyes virtually identical to her own.

Julia was pretty sure that a bomb could have exploded next door, and neither Kevin nor Elizabeth would have noticed. For a moment, the entire world held only the two of them, lost in their love for each other and the wonder of shared laughter.

She left them there, all three of them enjoying their game, and slipped back into the house, where she had to spend a few minutes wiping away her tears and promising herself that she would find a way to preserve the precious bond that existed between these two beautiful people - no matter what.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


The cake was a small masterpiece - one of the most perfect he'd ever done. Nora's favorite, of course: carrot cake with pineapple/cream cheese icing. Perfect.

Perfect - and useless, because it didn't matter. 

Scotty leaned against the tiled surface of the cabinets in Nora's kitchen and tried to pretend that he cared one way or another.

Behind him, on the other side of the kitchen, Saul was busy basting a beautiful crown roast, muttering to himself because he thought the new potatoes had browned too quickly, and watching the clock to make sure the butternut squash soufflé would not cook too long. This meal - like every other Nora Walker birthday meal - had to be perfect, even if he was wondering if anybody was actually going to taste any part of the feast. He was trying very hard not to resent the fact that Scotty had offered no assistance with the meal preparation. His contribution had been confined to the cake, which was lovely and perfect, but . . . Saul sighed, knowing he had no right to expect more from his nephew's husband, who was now a broken man. None of the family had actually admitted that yet, but that didn't make it any less true.

Scotty was staring out the window again, lost in . . . whatever it was he was seeing out there, and Saul had to suppress an urge to leap across the room and shake his partner until his teeth rattled. Because . . . this would serve no purpose. Nothing that any of them could do here, tonight, at this special occasion, could resolve the one problem that none of them knew how to remedy.

Kevin was not going to be here, and neither the finest meal, the most spectacular wines, nor the most perfect cake in the world was going to fix that. Saul quickly poured himself a glass of Walker Landing pinot noir, and tried to think of something else; anything else but the dreaded unwanted realization that . . . maybe they'd all been wrong, and Scotty had been right. Maybe Kevin really wasn't coming home.

And maybe they all knew it finally. Or most of them anyway. Even among the youngsters, Kevin's name went mostly unspoken these days. Only Evan, still too young to know better, sometimes looked around whatever room the family might be gathered in, and asked his question before anyone could think to silence him.

"Where's Unca Kevin?"

The immediate result was always the same - a brief, thick silence, followed by a raucous eruption of conversation that managed to sound only slightly desperate, while little Evan just looked confused. It had been harder on the young ones than anyone might have expected. Especially Paige, perhaps, who had come face to face with her own epiphany when she thought about her role in Kevin's departure. Sarah was still worried about her, and still a bit angry with Scotty for not leaving her out of the family confrontation that had forced them all to rethink their behavior, but Paige was not angry; was, in fact, grateful that Scotty had believed her to be mature enough to accept responsibility for her actions. That was what she'd always loved about Kevin too. He had always believed that she deserved truth, even if it was hard to swallow. 

Scotty heard a burst of young laughter from the area around the pool and gave up his attempt to follow the flight of a hawk in the distance, lowering his gaze just in time to watch Paige tumbling backwards into the pool, scowling so fiercely that he thought he should be grateful that he was not Cooper - especially since Paige's new boyfriend, Jacob, was standing nearby, watching the whole thing and wearing one of those silly teen-aged-boy smiles that were always just slightly over the top, no matter what the situation.

Nearby Sarah was sprawled bonelessly across a deeply-padded deck chair, most of her hair and face concealed beneath a big-brimmed sun hat as she attacked her second martini since her arrival twenty minutes earlier, and gazed appreciatively at her fiancé in his perfectly fitted swim trunks. 

Scotty wondered if he should go out there and make sure Paige got rescued without having her pride devastated any further. He considered it - for about a minute. Then he calmly continued touching up icing that was already perfect, figuring that Luc would manage to calm troubled waters. That was Luc's job, wasn't it? It certainly wasn't Scotty's responsibility. He had very few of those left in his life, since he hadn't even managed to fulfill the most important one, the one that would have saved the man who was the love of his life. Kevin had needed rescuing from a floodtide of self-destructive despair, and Scotty had failed him.

At the other end of the pool, Justin was sitting alone, his nose buried in a paperback, but Scotty had noticed that the young man had not turned a single page in the entire time he had been under observation. So he wasn't really lost in a story; he was lost in thought. Scotty studied his face for a moment, and wondered if anyone else in the family had figured out how badly Justin was hurting. He was constantly amazed that the young veteran managed to hide himself so well behind his stoic public persona, even succeeding - God knew how - at staying beneath Nora's all-powerful radar.

How, Scotty wondered as he poured himself a glass of Chardonnay, had he ever believed that this family was so intuitive, so sensitive and certain in their knowledge of each other? In truth, he'd finally realized that most of them lived in a fantasy of their own making and ultimately - didn't know shit. He had begun to think of them as The Family Oblivious, capitalization intended.

Most oblivious of all was big sister and Well Known Pundit (in her own mind, Kitty's title would always be a proper noun) Kitty Walker McAllister, who had only recently decided to drop the surname and take back her own maiden name. It was, after all, the one with which she'd staked her original claim to fame. Kitty, whose entire existence was wrapped around her own perceptions, her own desires, her own political agenda, and her own unique way of looking at life, was probably the most delusional of all the Walkers. For example, she was still insisting that Kevin was going to "get his head out of his ass and come crawling home begging for forgiveness".

Even Tommy - the brother with the sensitivity of a boulder - seemed to know better than that.

Most of the family, even if they hadn't completely accepted Scotty's conclusions, had figured out that what Kevin had done was not a passing fancy, not a whim of the moment, and - above all - not some kind of mindless, selfish, Kevin-being-Kevin temper tantrum.  Kitty still refused to consider any other option, although, in truth she wasn't really payming much attention, still caught up in her infatuation with Seth, the perpetual student, Seth, the Oscar-Wilde wannabe, Seth, the . . . well, in truth Kitty was free to choose any sobriquet she wished to use because Seth was still, ultimately, a work-in-progress, achingly young, lovely and sweet, but still incomplete.

Scotty picked up his glass and his bottle and fetched a soda from the fridge before going out to take a seat beside Justin. The youngest Walker sibling accepted the cold beverage with a quick smile that was warm enough but failed to reach his eyes.

"You okay?" Scotty asked, shading his face with his hand against the brilliance of the setting sun, in order to get a clear look at Scotty's face.

"What do you think?" Justin managed a small chuckle. "I think the two of us should find a place to drown our sorrows, so we don't spoil the party for everybody else."

Scotty settled back in the plush deck chair and closed his eyes. "Screw 'em," he said, taking a sip of his wine.

Justin did not argue. They sat in silence for a while, ignoring the bickering of the children, Luc and Sarah's innuendo-laden exchanges, Tommy and Kitty's ever more heated argument about the latest Republican to be caught - literally - with his pants down, and Seth's mostly futile attempts to entertain Evan, who was stubbornly determined to grab his mother's attention so she could watch his first brave leap into the pool. He wasn't having much luck, and Scotty spent a moment considering what he would have given - and what Kevin would have given - to have the chance to watch their child do something - anything - for the first time.

"Shit!" he muttered under his breath.

Justin favored him with a tiny smile. "Not exactly up for the big occasion, huh?"

Scotty took another sip of wine. "About as much as you, I'm thinking."

The two of them continued to sit in comfortable silence while everyone else leapt up and donned enthusiastic smiles when Nora and Brody made their entrance. Scotty and Justin ignored angry glares from Sarah and Kitty and raised their glasses in a silent tribute, but made no move to join the party. Luc and Tommy looked slightly embarrassed, not sure whether or not to gush with the girls or brood with the boys.

In the end, they did neither, nudged aside and ignored as the grandchildren were prevailed upon to perform the special presentation of a bouquet of yellow roses which was the ritual beginning for every celebration of Nora's birthday.

Nora smiled, of course, accepting hugs from her children and her grandchildren, while Brody just looked slightly bored and was quick to fetch a cold beer from the house. For a moment, he looked like he might wander over to join Scotty and Justin in their contemplation of the deep end of the pool, but then he thought better of it.

Smart man, thought Scotty.

They had a few more minutes of peace and quiet while the main body of celebrants moved inside to finish last minute details and set out the Parma Prosciutto and smoked sausage Bruschetta. 

Justin sat up and gazed toward the house before turning to Scotty with a rueful smile. "We're on borrowed time here, you know. She won't stand for this for long. But hey, I forgot to tell you something. Day before yesterday, you'll never guess who I ran into in the parking lot down at Romero Medical Center."

"Not much in the mood for guessing, Bro."

Justin nodded, feeling slightly foolish. "Yeah, okay. Poor choice of words. But anyway, we were down there to transfer a patient to Huntington Memorial, and I walk around the back of the bus and almost ran over Michelle."

"Michelle?" echoed Scotty. "Our Michelle? Michelle McGregor?"

"The one and only."

Scotty closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to sort through memories as sharp as pieces of broken glass, trying to bring up the good ones - and discard the bad. "How was she?"

"She looked good," Justin answered, but he didn't sound very sure of it.

"But?"

"Nothing really. She just seemed a little . . . nervous, I guess. Don't know why she'd be nervous to see me. I barely knew her. But she was sure in a hurry to get away."

"So she didn't tell you what she was doing here, or where she's living now. Nothing?"

Justin shook his head. "Just that she had to go because she was late to pick up her mother, and . . . well, she did say to tell you hello. Just you though." His smile was slightly lopsided. "Not Kevin. I don't think she ever really felt that close to him. Or vice versa, I guess."

Scotty sighed. "You're right. I guess I was the only thing they had in common. But Michelle was my friend even before I met Kevin, and I'd still like to talk to her, to be able to tell her how much we appreciated what she tried to do for us. Both of us."

Justin nodded. "I'm sorry. I had to help get the stretcher out of the back of the unit, and when I turned back around, she was gone."

The silence fell on them again, but Justin could tell that Scotty was musing over the behavior of the woman who had contracted to be the surrogate for Scotty and Kevin, to bear their child. She had disappeared from their lives after the pregnancy had ended in miscarriage, had gone off to New York to make a name for herself, according to gossip. But they had never really had a chance to talk about what had happened, and even though the baby in question had not been Michelle's biological child, Scotty was sure she must have been affected by its loss. He'd like to have the chance to tell her that he understood, that he shared her pain and wished her only the best.

Apparently, she had no desire to listen to whatever he might say, and he had no choice but to respect her wishes.

He wondered vaguely how many people he would wind up losing before his life was over.

Then, abruptly, there was no more time for musing, as a small, determined figure walked out of the house and moved toward them. The two watched her coming and knew that the jig was officially up. Nora Walker was obviously on a mission.

"Why are you two skulking around out here?" she demanded, her smile just slightly off kilter. "The party's inside, and Scotty, you've outdone yourself. The cake is just a masterpiece, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate your efforts. Nobody bakes a better cake than you."

Both Justin and Scotty had begun to get to their feet, knowing that one shrugged off the determined efforts of Nora Walker at one's own risk. But it was then that Scotty was gripped by a memory so powerful and sharp that he almost went to his knees. 

"If you bake it, he will come."

It was as if it had happened yesterday - another dreadful occasion when Kevin had been forced to find his way through the darkness of a nightmare not of his own making - alone. He had been devastated to learn the truth about what had happened to his friend, Aaron, on the occasion of his sister's party at Ojai Foods when Kevin was barely sixteen years old; devastated to realize that he had been responsible for a dreadful injury to the young man to whom he'd been attracted, when he was still struggling to accept his homosexuality.

"If you bake it, he will come." 

And she'd been right - that time. Kevin had been broken, filled with bitter remorse, guilt-stricken, and alone - but he'd still managed to find the courage to come home. Late and still hurting and almost lost, but he'd come nonetheless, back to the bosom of the family that loved him, despite everything.

But now - he wouldn't come home now, for he no longer believed that he had the right.
That . . . Scotty felt a harsh twist in his gut . . . that was what he - Scotty - had taken from the man he loved more than life itself. Kevin had forfeited everything, believing that what he'd done could never be forgiven - that he was unworthy of forgiveness, even among those in his own family. 

"Scotty," said Nora, moving close enough to wrap her arm around his waist, "please don't do this to yourself. This is not your fault. You didn't do this. You . . ."

He stood very straight abruptly, moving out of the curve of her arm, and there was actual anger flaring in his eyes. "Yes, I did. No matter how many times you try to excuse me, and blame him . . . I did this. Me. No one else, and having all of you pretend otherwise doesn't make it any better."

He paused to blink away the tears that were rising in his eyes. "Do you know what he said to me - that night at the café, after he took a swing at the wrong waiter? He said, 'I'm not angry; I'm in pain. And you're the one who put me there.' Do you know how it feels when I remember that, when I remember his face, and the agony in his eyes as he spoke each word?"

He stopped then, looking down, looking into nothing. "Of course, you don't. You weren't there, and none of you ever knew what he was going through, mostly because you didn't want to know. It was easier that way. But I knew. He looked me straight in the eye and said, 'You did this.' And he was right. He was broken by what I did, but you were all too busy trying to pretend that everything would be OK, that Kevin was just . . . over-reacting, as usual. Jesus Christ! Did any of you ever know him at all?"

Nora's eyes were huge as she looked up at him; huge and confused and filled with misgivings and uncertainty. But to his surprise, when he turned to look at Justin, he realized that his youngest brother-in-law understood what he was saying, and why he was saying it.

Damn! He would really love to be able to buy Justin a beer sometime, just to express his gratitude. It meant so much to have someone - just one someone - understand what he was feeling.

They stood together there for a moment - a frozen tableau - until Scotty turned away to move toward the edge of the pool. "Best get inside," he said softly. "Can't very well start the party without the guest of honor."

"Scotty?" she said softly, moving closer and lifting a hand to touch his face.

"It's all right," he said quickly, deliberately backing away from her. "I'll be in shortly."

"You sure, Bro?" That was Justin, willing to give him whatever space he needed, but also willing to offer a helping hand, if needed.

"I'm sure. You go on."

He stood there alone as the sun sank lower in the sky and the shadows grew longer and deeper. He thought it was a pretty good metaphor for his life.

Finally, when he glanced toward the dining room and noted that the family was seated at their appointed places, he started toward the kitchen door. It was at that exact moment that his phone rang.

Still distracted and lost in the moment, he answered without noting the name on the display screen.

"Hello."

A pause followed by a quick breath.

"Hello." This time, he spoke with a bit of impatience, since he wasn't in the mood for foolishness.

Another pause, and then. "Hi, Scotty. I don't know if you want to speak to me, but . . ." All spoken in a rush.

"Michelle," he replied very softly. "Oh, God, Michelle, of course I want to speak to you. Where are you? How are you? Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"

He could almost hear the smile in her voice. "Oh, Scotty, I can't even begin to tell you how many times I thought about you. You were my best friend - for as long as I can remember. It was so hard . . ."

"Then why did you go?" he asked gently. "It was like you just dropped off the face of the earth. And nobody had a clue how to find you. I even called Chad. That'll tell you how desperate I was, since you know, better than almost anybody, how much I don't like talking to my husband's exes."

The pain hit him then, born again and stronger because he'd let himself forget - for one tiny moment - that he no longer had a husband.

"Oh, Scotty," she sighed. "I heard what happened. Is he . . . has he . . ."

"No," he said, taking a deep breath. "He hasn't come back. I don't think he will."

"I'm so sorry."

He paused, waiting to see if she might say more, and was gratified when she didn't. "I can't tell you how much it means to me that you didn't start spouting off that he doesn't deserve me and I should count myself lucky that he's gone."

"And I can't believe that anybody would actually say something so awful to you. Look, Scotty, Kevin and I were never going to become bosom buddies. We're too different. But not so different that I couldn't see one thing clearly. He loved you, more, I think, than anyone else ever could. So you just don't listen to all those pompous asses who don't know shit from shine. OK?"

He laughed. It was a very small laugh, but comfortable and warm. It felt right.

"Can we get together?" he asked. "You can't imagine how much I want to see you.'

She hesitated, and he thought she covered the phone for a moment as there was a murmur of something he couldn't quite make out. "Not tonight," she said finally. "Got family stuff to do. But how about tomorrow? Lunch, maybe?"

Scotty smiled. "Sounds perfect. You come to my place and let me show off my restaurant. It's the only thing . . . I have left to show you." He was surprised that he almost managed to complete the invitation without having to stop to breathe. He had never actually admitted it to anyone before.

"For now, maybe," she said, her voice gentle and sad. But when she continued, her tone was different, filled with something he could not quite identify. "For now, but not forever."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

TBC