“That part was harder. At first, I asked if we could stay together for them, but Becca felt it just confused us both more than anything, so we divorced, but I promised to always be there for her. When she got a job opportunity in Los Angeles, she was afraid to even tell me about it, and she would have turned it down if I’d asked, but I wanted everything for her. She had a better chance of earning more money in producing for radio out there than in Georgia, and I was sure it wasn’t going to be terribly difficult for me to get another job in mortgages and loans, which it wasn’t. So I packed my bags, and we made our way out west for a new life. Turned out to be the best thing that could have happened for my career, because if I hadn’t started at Rackley-Brewer, I wouldn’t have wound up in what would eventually become the best paying job I could have ever dreamedof.”
From what Art knew of Wes’s life, Wes had been fortunate enough to work at Rackley-Brewer when the bank was switching over to computer databases, and he was essential in their transition, which certainly earned him an impressive salary and benefits—one of the reasons Art was less than surprised he was ahousie.
“Of course, if you told me life would work in my favor back when we first moved, when shortly after that Becca was diagnosed, I’m not sure I would have believed you,” Wes added. “We thought we had all the time in the world. Boy, were wewrong.”
Art could see the transformation in Wes’s expression as he seemed to relive the hopefulness and then cruel tragedy all overagain.
“But we were both there for Mike and Kelly to her last breath, before her last round of chemo created complications…and she was just too weak to goon.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring thatup.”
“It’s fine. Sometimes it’s nice to chat about it. I don’t regret my time with her. I’m sad it’s over, but I treasure thememory.”
Two residents approached with buckets and gardening gear, taking their places and interrupting Wes and Art’s conversation with a friendly greeting and brief chat before Art attempted to change the subject to something more pleasant forWes.
“How’s Justin doing?” Artasked.
“I haven’t talked to him much this week. He’s been fairly busy with work, but I need to give him a call…maybe today or tomorrow. We’ve been talking about getting together in a few weeks, heading back for dinner and then church on Sundaymorning.”
“Church? That’s interesting. How is this the first time I’m hearing aboutit?”
“I’ve still got secrets up my sleeve, Art Cromley,” he said with a smile. “But that’s not exactly something I boast about. I’m not a frequent visitor. I may have been raised Catholic, but I don’t believe I need some intermediary between me and the Lord. Though I’ve considered heading to a place around here one day. There’s an Episcopalian church just a couple miles away that the shuttle will take us to. I know you aren’t particularlyreligious.”
“I’m not bothered by anyone who chooses to go, but I have to admit the subject makes me slightly uneasy, considering how my mom was about forcing me to observe hers and then her subsequent disapproval of mylife.”
“I totally understand that. I assure you, I have dealt with it enough too that I sympathize with anyone who chooses not to attend church or believe. Justin isn’t particularly religious, and I think mostly goes along with it because of his wife. Kelly has always said she’s a little too practical for God, which I can’t say I disagree with.” He seemed entertained bythat.
“Why does that amuseyou?”
Wes broke up some dirt around one of the bean bushes. “Kelly’s stubbornness about anything has always amused me a little bit. She just has her opinions, and she’s set on them and won’t let anyone change her mind about anything, whether it’s about where to eat dinner or about the Lord.” Wes eyed Art for a moment before saying, “You have a beautifulsmile.”
It caught Art so off guard that his mouth fell open and he struggled to process thewords.
“I didn’t mean that you should do the opposite of it. I said it waslovely.”
“No, you just surprised me. What made you saythat?”
Art could understand Wes was saying that because he was interested in him. That was obvious from the handholding and the kissing and the walks together, but the compliment threw him in a way all the other thingscouldn’t.
“It was an observation,” Wes replied. “You’re beautiful, Art. I’m sure you’ve heard thatbefore.”
Art glanced around the garden uneasily, and Wesnoticed.
“Okay, this shouldn’t be such a shock to you. You’ve always been a looker, so I know you’ve had plenty of men tell you that in yourlife.”
“Not really. Haven’t ever really been with anyone who would’ve just flat-out said something likethat.”
Art wasn’t baiting him for a compliment. It was a fact, and Wes’s jaw dropped as he seemed surprised by Art’sadmission.
Wes was about to say something else, but the conversation was making Art uncomfortable, so he just said, “Can we just finish this? Do youmind?”
Surely, a compliment like that should have made him feel good, eager even. He appreciated that Wes was willing to say it, butbeautiful? It didn’t fit with this image he had of himself after all theseyears.
He was relieved when Wes abided by his wishes and the conversation shifted back to other residents and even their latest book-club selection, for which they were keeping up on pagestogether.
When they finished gardening, they headed their separate ways to their activities, and as was becoming more regular for Art, he found himself looking forward to the walk they had planned for thatafternoon.
Although, he couldn’t shake Wes’s compliment from his thoughts and how conflicted it made him feel about himself, and in particular, about hisbody.
