Page 86 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"This is what I did when I lived up North. I worked with people who had difficulties with memory. Only I—got lost in the business of it all. I forgot why I got into it in the first place."

"It’s easy to get swept into a career. I did the same. Oil brought my family here same as everyone else. When it dried up, I was able to shift into natural gas, but most people hoped for the next well. I got lucky, but I spent so much time away from home." He sighed. "And now everyone is gone but me."

I rubbed his shoulder. "You still have me."

By the time Houston made it home, I’d set the table, while Lettie finished the ham hock for the greens. Paul was busying himself with a matching game I’d taught him using a deck of cards.

"It smells good," Houston said, putting several boxes from his office onto the floor.

"Do you want me to get those, Dr. Whitaker?" Lettie called.

"No, I’ll sort through it myself. Hopefully this is only a temporary setback."

"Have you gone to other banks? Surely someone would give you a loan?" I asked.

"And anger Lawrence Page? That is doubtful. No, whatever I do next, I want to own it outright," he said, looking up. "Like this house. Plus, I have a few things in the works," he said with a wink.

"Well, come eat," I said, "and maybe we can play cards after. Paul plays a mean game of spades."

Houston grinned. "No one beats me in spades."

"Oh, Lord." Lettie scoffed in the background.

It was nice with all four of us eating together. It felt close, like what I’d wanted as a child, but could never get from my own family. This was what I’d always imagined family dinners to be—full of boring conversations about our day, while planning the fun we’d have on days off, and then leisure in the evenings.

Houston insisted on being in charge of bathing Paul, though I told him I did not mind. But he was right to take on the responsibility. Paul protested baths regularly, though usually in the end he was grateful. The evenings were difficult for him, and they’d get more difficult as time went on.

Once Paul was settled in the for the night, I found Houston on the back porch in a rocking chair. He'd pulled two chairs around to face the yard, and he had a pot of green tea and two cups. He looked up at the sound of the screen door opening and nodded to the empty chair beside him.

I sat, busying myself by preparing my own cup of tea.

The yard was quiet as fireflies moved through the tree line in the dark, and the toads croaked their mating calls down by the pond.

"He did well tonight," Houston said.

"He did. The cards help him feel capable."

Houston smiled at that. "He cheats."

"Terribly," I agreed.

We sat for a moment in the comfortable silence that had begun to develop between us. It was the kind of silence that couldn’t be forced, it just arrived one day before you could notice. These were the kind of nights I had as a child, quiet and peaceful, away from the bustling metropolitan that was Minneapolis. For the hundredth time I asked myself if I could every go back if I found the means to. The answer had always been unequivocally, yes. I was in danger here, and that danger loomed closer. But the longer I shared my time with Houston that yes had become less enthusiastic every day.

"How are you holding up?" I asked. "With the office."

"I'll manage. I always have." He turned with his teacup in hand. "I have options."

I looked over. "What kind of options?"

Houston went quiet for a moment, looking out at the yard. "There are things about me, Gema. Things I haven't told you." He said it carefully, like he was measuring my movements to gauge what my reaction might be.

"You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to." He turned to look at me. "I want to. I've wanted to for some time." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It’s just that the moment I tell you, I won’t be able to take it back."

He was so close, I smelled the cedar from the soap he used. I could practically feel his hands on me even though they stayed painfully on his lap. I wanted to hold him, but I did my best to give him the space he needed to speak. "That’s a lot of weight to carry, but something tells me you’ve been carrying it for some time."

Houston was quiet for a long moment. I wished I knew what he was thinking.