No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn’t come. He lay awake, rolling all he’d been told and all he suspected over and over in his head, occasionally glancing over at Dustin’s sleeping form. He wanted to believe his lover and somehow manage to stay here forever, but his life was in Chicago. Wasn’t it? He wished once more that his Aunt Irene had fought a little harder to keep him as a child.
Recollections of Junior’s visit struck him hard, his newly acquired knowledge adding heightened dimensions to Timmerman’s suggestions.
Though it pained him to do so, he’d been solo for so long that he needed some alone time to get his head straight and decide exactly what to do next. The last thing he wanted was to make an impetuous decision, or worse, allow someone else to make it for him. He’d allowed others to dictate most of his life. Time to take a stand of his own.
Quietly, so as not to wake Dusty, he tiptoed from room to room, viewing the house with new eyes. Each family photo held new meaning, and he gazed at graying photos of McDaniels past, wondering who were what Dustin called carriers, and who took animal form.
He stared long and hard at his parents’ picture, stroking a finger over his mother’s curls, down his father’s nose. “Why couldn’t you be here for me?” he asked. “I need you.” They didn’t answer, and he placed the picture frame back on the mantel before taking down another that showed two young boys, shirtless, wearing cutoff jeans. Arms around each other’s skinny shoulders, they grinned for the camera, one missing his two front teeth.
For hours, he lay on the uncomfortable settee, contemplating running back to Chicago in hopes of waking from this nightmare. Every time he thought about buying a plane ticket, however, his heart ached. For better or worse, Dustin Livingston was all Seth had left, but he couldn’t let that color his decisions. He had to decide his future on his own.
Toward daybreak, he gave up the house for the front porch and sat wrapped in a quilt, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. Not long after, he heard footsteps tread down the hall. The screen door screeched open, and Dustin slowly approached the porch swing. Gaze studiously fixed on the mug in his hand, Seth forced out the words, “I don’t think we should see each other for a while.”
Chapter 15
DUSTINleft without saying good-bye, but Seth found a note on his bed listing a multitude of phone numbers, e-mail addresses, and other forms of communication, with admonishments to keep an eye on both his bite wound and his cut foot. Instructions for care were included. Seth rolled his eyes.Doctors!
Dustpan in hand, he entered his aunt’s room, heart heavy at the destruction he’d wreaked, only to find the room immaculate. Somehow Dustin had managed to clean up the wreckage. Maybe Seth had slept some and simply didn’t remember. His anger, or whatever ill feelings he might harbor for the bearer of bad news, clicked down a notch. Relief rushed through him when he found the dog figurine intact; he’d been afraid he’d broken it during his fit of rage.
Determined not to let the bomb Dustin had dropped define the course of his life, Seth returned to the task of setting the house to rights with a vengeance, finding pen and paper and then making a list of necessary materials. He avoided Possum Kingdom, driving his aunt’s truck to nearby Clayton instead for lumber, paint, caulk, and wood stain, and using the trip to justify his long-overdue visit to the offices of Clooney, Anderson, and Gentry to discuss the finer points of his aunt’s will. They said she’d left him “everything,” hadn’t they? What more did he need to know?
The offices were situated in an eye-catching structure on the edge of town, an old-style plantation house that surely must once have been the grandest in the land, now neatly divided into offices. He wondered, while climbing the steps to the front door, how many of his ancestors might have trod the same path. With his fondness for old architecture, he immediately fell in love with the entryway’s soaring ceiling, spiral staircase, and burnished oak handrail and floor, imagining how the structure might have appeared in its heyday. Had any of his relatives attended a party here, maybe, back when the impressive dwelling had likely been the abode of some prominent citizen?
A sign on the wall listed the locations of the various offices, disappointing Seth that he didn’t have a legitimate excuse to climb the stairs to the upper floors. He did so anyway, to soak up the ambiance. His explorations brought home exactly why the place held so much appeal—it reminded him of the farm. Niggling guilt took root, admonishing him for wanting to sell something that had held such importance for the family he barely remembered.
He evicted those thoughts; he had enough to worry about at the moment. The staircase effectively hid the entrance to the offices of Clooney, Anderson, and Gentry, but eventually Seth found what he sought.
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” the receptionist asked, taking in his stained Pink Floyd T-shirt and paint-splattered ball cap with obvious disdain the moment he stepped through the door.
Appointment? Seth mentally kicked himself. Why hadn’t he bothered to make an appointment? “No, ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d be in town today and hoped to talk to Mr. Clooney about my aunt’s estate.”
“Who was your aunt?”
“Irene McDaniel from Possum Kingdom.”
The woman’s entire demeanor changed. “Oh, Mr. McDaniel! Mr. Clooney hoped you might stop by. Have a seat and I’ll tell him you’re here.”
Seth retreated a polite distance, certain he’d be capable of hearing the words she hissed into the telephone if he’d had a mind to. He had yet to decide if his improved hearing amounted to a blessing or a curse. On the plus side, he now had ample warning of anyone coming down his driveway; however, the ability to hear every little night noise, amplified, definitely fell in the minus column. Who knew crickets were so damned noisy?
No one else occupied the waiting room, leaving Seth his choice of overstuffed chairs and well-handled magazines. His stomach rumbled, provoking a watch check. Oh yeah, lunchtime. For a brief moment, he considered calling Dustin and planning an impromptu lunch date before recalling his request for space. Space Dustin seemed determined to give him, as the man hadn’t called, or even texted to inquire about Seth’s injures. Both wounds had nearly completely healed, or at least enough for Seth to get a tennis shoe on his foot and walk properly. Did Dustin honestly believe “I don’t think we should see each other for a while” meant “ignore me completely”?
A few moments later, a distinguished-looking gentleman of advanced years stepped into the waiting room.
“Mr. McDaniel?” The man completely enveloped Seth’s hand in his.
Seth rose from the chair he’d sat in for perhaps two minutes, tops. “Mr. Clooney?”
“Please, call me Richard. I understand you wish to speak about your aunt’s will.” The elderly gentleman let out a gravelly chuckle. “About time you got here. Come on back to my office and let’s chat.” Richard’s pronounced Southern drawl brought back memories of Seth’s father and Aunt Irene.
Seth sniffed the air, but not a trace of Possum Kingdom “otherness” clung to either the attorney or his receptionist. What the fuck? Since when did he start sniffing people? He recalled a few noses in the recent past, hovering close to his neck.
Richard chuckled again. “No, Mr. McDaniel, I’m not kin, though I’m fully aware of what you’re doing. You’re hardly the first to include a good sniff with the handshake.”
They entered a spacious office, every available surface covered by paper. A computer sat on the desk, and the documents spread across the keyboard led Seth to believe it didn’t receive much use. Built-in bookcases lined the walls, and for a moment, Seth pictured how such an arrangement would work in the sitting room.You’re selling the place, dodo, stop dreaming, the part of him longing to return to Chicago informed him.
“You know about…?” he asked, wondering if Richard bought into the lunacy, or if Seth rode the crazy train alone.Or maybe Dustin told you the truth,said the part of Seth resolved to put down roots, renovate the farm, and take baby pictures at the nearest hospital.And sleep with Dustin every night!his libido chimed in. Yeah, that too.
The hefty attorney eased down into the chair behind his desk, which emitted a startledsqueak!“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of how your town differs from most. My wife, the late Mrs. Clooney, grew up there, though she somehow managed to dodge the family curse.”
