“Don’t touch me,” he growled.He took a stepbackward, then whirled and started down the steps at a walk soquick he was almost running.His friends followed him, and Mark wasleft standing in the doorway, alone.
He had sinned.From anger, certainly, butmaybe also from pride.He had born false witness, deliberatelymisleading those men with the goal of seeing another man shunned.Mark closed his eyes and gripped tight to the doorframe.“Almightyand Most Merciful Father,” he began, and he could hear the rest ofthe prayer in his mind.His daily offices, asking for forgivenessof all his sins.How many times had he repeated the prayer in theyears since he’d become a priest?But now, the words could not passhis lips.
He slammed the door shut, locked it, and lethis body sag against its solid wood.What had he just done?
Then he thought of Jimmy.Mark’s youngerbrother, the baby he was supposed to protect, and guide.He’dtried, but he hadn’t succeeded, not as much as he’d wanted.Jimmyhad been wild and irresponsible, spoiled by a doting mother andabsentminded father, and a brother who was busy with his ownawakenings and spiritual journeys.Jimmy had been flawed, but he’dnever been hateful.His heart had been pure, and when Mark had comeout to his family, Jimmy had been the first one to walk around thedining room table to embrace him.
Cain and his friends?First order homophobes,obviously.Well, Cain hadn’t done anything overt, but if he waschoosing to spend time with those types, it was clear that his ownopinions wouldn’t be far from theirs.Mark’s words had beenirresponsible, certainly, and he’d have to watch himself moreclosely.He needed to be contrite before God, who expected more ofHis children and His servants, but he didn’t owe any sort of anapology to Lucas Cain.
Mark had come to the house for a reason.Hehad business to do, paperwork to get out of the way so he couldattend to the more crucial tasks of ministering to his congregants.It was important for him to be self-reflective, but he couldn’tallow himself to become self-indulgent about it all.He’d misspokento the visitor, done the best he could to rectify the situation,and he would think about his motivations later, when he was calmer.For now, the best thing to do was to stay busy and carry on withthe good work he did every day.
He took a deep breath, then left through theback door of the kitchen and locked it behind him.He walkedthrough the yard, past the freshly dug garden, and headed for hiscar.He saw a thin grey squirrel chewing happily on apeanut-butter-covered acorn, and he walked a little faster.
ChapterEleven
Lucas had spent the morning at the jobcenter, replying to every Help Wanted ad for which he seemed evenremotely qualified and then working on his resume.It wasappallingly short, of course, and there was no way to explain histhree year absence from the workforce without mentioning the thingthat was going to instantly disqualify him from almost every job intown, but he did what he could.
That was what life was, after all.Lucas hadto keep trying because the alternative, while certainly attractiveto most of his mind, was still unacceptable to that damn lizardbrain that wanted him to survive.And whatever scrap of pride hehad left wouldn’t allow him to become totally catatonic.So, lizardplus pride equaled effort, as pathetic as he knew his chanceswere.
He spent the afternoon going door-to-doorfrom one business to another.He skipped anything retail, anyplaces where the only jobs would involve customer service.And heskipped places that served alcohol, at least for the first round.Maybe he’d get desperate enough to try them eventually, and itwasn’t that he worried about his sobriety in the face oftemptation.The temptation to seek oblivion was there, certainly,but he was pretty sure he could keep it under control.It had beenat its worst when he’d been spending time with his friends, and hedidn’t have to worry about that anymore.So he was confident hecould have a job that brought him around alcohol.He just didn’twant to spend time with drunk people.They lacked control, andLucas needed as much stability as he could find.
So he marched himself to all the smallindustries in town, found the garages and construction sites.Bythe time businesses started closing for the day, his feet were sorefrom more walking than he’d usually have done in a year, and he waspretty sure he’d gotten no closer to a job.Half the people he’dspoken to had recognized his name and known his story, and theother half would figure it out soon enough.
There was a creek running through theindustrial area of town, probably nothing more than a drainageditch but with enough space to have sprouted some trees and weedyflowers.And there was a patch of grass near a busy intersectionwhere someone had placed a bench.It was a poor excuse for a park,but Lucas needed a break.He had to get back to the house in timefor dinner at six which meant he didn’t have a whole lot of time,but he’d take what he could.
He was sitting on the bench, watching astarling giving itself a bath in the shallows of the creek, whenthree tall shadows spread over the grass in front of him.Threemen, he guessed, and they were standing right behind him.He didn’tturn around.
“You enjoying the view?”Mikey somehow madethe innocuous question sound like a threat, and Lucas bracedhimself.And since there was no answer that would satisfy Mikeywhen he was in a fighting mood, Lucas didn’t bother trying to giveone.
“I’m talking to you, asshole!”Lucas wasready for the shove and let his shoulder roll forward with it.
“Maybe he’s gone deaf.”Tinker.Damn.He andMikey tended to get each other riled up.It was all going to dependon who the third person was.
And, finally, Sean spoke.“He’s not deaf.Hejust doesn’t feel like talking.”It sounded good, like the way Seanhad been looking after Lucas for his whole life.Interpreting forhim, sometimes accurately and sometimes not.Sean was the bufferthat kept Lucas protected in a rough world, and Lucas had alwaystried to be the same for Sean.Maybe it wasn’t too late to go backto that.Lucas didn’t move a muscle, afraid to dispel whateversense of forgiveness Sean might be experiencing.
Sean circled around to the front of thebench, and the other two eventually followed.The sun was behindtheir heads and Lucas had to squint to look at them.The anglewould be better if he stood, but he didn’t want to make any movesthat could change whatever careful balance they seemed to beworking on.So he sat and waited.
Finally, Sean said, “We should go have abeer.We’ve been friends for too long.”
Lucas was about to agree.The invitationhadn’t made it clear, but hopefully Sean had meant just him andLucas, without the others.Things always went fine when it was justSean and Lucas.
But maybe Mikey had realized the same thing,because he stepped forward and growled, “You want to drink with thefaggot?You heard what the priest said!”
“I want to hear his side of the story,” Seansaid.“That’s all.You guys head on home.Me and Lucas will sort itout.”
“Bullshit,” Tinker said.“He’ll just lie toyou.He’ll say anything to cover his perverted ass.”Tinker steppedforward and leaned ominously over Lucas.“Did you get converted inprison, Lucas?Did you come out of jail a fag?”
Lucas was tired.He couldn’t do this anymore.It was no use trying to salvage things.He just needed it to beover.So he looked at Sean instead of Tinker and he said, “I cameout of prison the same way I went in.”
Lucas ignored the other two and focused onthe man who’d been a brother and more to him.Sean’s face was tenseand pleading, desperately begging Lucas to not push, to not forceSean to do something he didn’t want to.And Lucas knew with cold,clear certainty that he couldn’t look at that face for the rest ofhis life, couldn’t continue lying to everyone including himself inorder to maintain whatever the hell it was between himself andSean.He took a deep breath, and then added, “And you know it,Sean.You’ve known it for a long time.”
There was more Lucas could have said if he’dhad to, but he’d known there wouldn’t be a need.Sean’s first swingwas wild and desperate, just an attempt to stop Lucas’s words.Lucas could have dodged, but he didn’t, and Sean’s knuckles glancedoff his cheekbone and up over his forehead.Not enough strength todo serious damage, but it got Sean moving, and as always, once Seanstarted a fight, there was only one way for it to end.
Lucas didn’t even stand.He’d hurt Sean, andnow Sean was going to hurt him.It was only fair.But his inactionseemed to enrage Mikey, who grabbed Lucas’s arm and heaved him tohis feet, then shoved him forward into Sean’s fists.
That was how it continued, for as long asLucas could stay upright.He’d take a hit, stumble backward intoMikey or Tinker, get pushed forward into Sean.Lucas knew he shouldfall down and turtle up, or at least raise his hands to protect hisface, but he didn’t.They thought he was a coward?Well, maybe hewouldn’t fight, but he could at least take a beating.He couldhandle the pain.
When he finally went down it wasn’t bychoice.Sean caught him under the jaw and snapped his head back andthe world got foggy and started to spin.There was a vague sense ofimpact and when Lucas opened his eyes he was horizontal, staringpast blades of grass toward the muddy stream.
