Christmas Delights 3 (15 page)

Jack
held out a hand and Josh shook it. “Nice to meet you, Jack. Scott, I guess this
means you’ll be leaving? Have a nice Christmas.” He turned and went back to the
easel.

“So
that’s the way we leave it?” Scott asked.

“Nothing
else to say,” Josh replied unsmilingly.

As
they walked to the snow mobile, Jack said, “Thanks for taking care of my little
brother. Have a nice Christmas.”

“No
problem. You, too.”

Chapter 4

Four
months later

Josh
mingled with the formally-clad patrons as they wandered around the gallery. He
listened to their favorable comments as they studied the paintings. He ran a
finger under the collar of his stiff, white shirt.

An
older man stood in front of one of the paintings and pulled his cell phone out
of his pocket. Josh wasn’t close enough to hear his conversation.

Lily
ran up and hugged Josh. “Looks like a successful showing. We’ve already sold at
least half a dozen pictures. I’m so glad you were able to replace the ones Dan
ruined.”

“Yeah,”
Josh said despondently.

“What’s
wrong, Josh?”

“I
think I made a big mistake.”

“About?”
Lily frowned.

“Life.”
Josh walked away and stared at the same painting the stranger studied.

* * *

Scott
and his mother entered the gallery.

“Why
are we here, Scott?” Janice asked.

“I
don’t know. All I know is Dad called and said for me to get down here as fast
as I could. There he is.”

Larry
Davis approached his son and his ex-wife. “Janice, Scott, there’s something
over here you need to see.” He led them to a wall of five paintings all marked
‘SOLD’.

Scott
stared.

“Scott,
that’s you!” his mother said. “Oh, I love this one.” She pointed to a picture
of Scott sitting on a couch reading. “When did you sit for these?”

“I
didn’t know I did,” Scott admitted. “I wonder who bought all of them.” He
turned as he heard Josh say, “I did, preacher man.”

“How
could you buy them when you painted them?”

“They
really aren’t sold. I just didn’t want to let them go,” Josh admitted.

“Why
not? Surely they don’t mean any more to you than I did.”

“Maybe
you meant more than I realized at the time.”

“What
do you mean?” Scott asked as tears threatened.

“I
mean, I was wrong. It did mean something to me. Can you forgive me?” Josh
pleaded. He stepped closer and opened his arms.

Scott
stepped into them.

After
several kisses, Scott turned and introduced Josh to his parents. “This is the
man who sheltered me during the storm.

Josh
pulled the ‘SOLD’ sign from the painting Janice admired. “Here, put your name
and address on the back. I’ll see it’s delivered to you after the show.”

She
complied. “Thank you. You don’t need to do this.”

“Just
call it a late Christmas present from Scott.”

* * *

Later,
after the gallery closed, Josh and Scott sat together on a couch and looked at
the paintings.

“I
still don’t understand when you painted these,” Scott said.

“Most
of them after you left. I made sketches when you weren’t looking. You woke me
up.” He brushed the hair out of Scott’s eyes and kissed him. “I was able to
replace the paintings of Dan when I realized he didn’t matter any more…you did.
I’ll admit it took a week or so for me to convince myself I’d fallen in love
again. I never thought a quiet young preacher would win my heart.”

Scott
grinned and snuggled close. “I firmly believe God had a hand in things. When I
came to get my car, it started right up without any problems.”

“Maybe
He knew I needed a Christmas angel.” He stood, took Scott’s hand and pulled him
up. “Let’s go home, preacher man. I have things to teach you.” He grinned and
winked. “Besides, I miss your cooking.”

“Teach
me what things?” Scott asked.

“You’ll
see. Besides, we missed Christmas.”

“Better
late than never.”

THE END

About A.T. Weaver

A. T. Weaver is a great-grandmother
who lives in Kansas City, MO with her cat Cleopatra. She started writing ten
years ago after meeting over 3,000 gay men in a Yahoo group for fans of a TV
show. She has self-published five novels and is working on a sixth.

She started writing before gay
erotica was heard of, before Brokeback Mountain was heard of. Most gay stories
had to end in tragedy in order for the mainstream to accept them. There was no
place in publishing for gay romance. There was no on-line publishing. If you
wanted to publish, you had to pay a ‘vanity press’ to publish. She believed in
this genre and paid a company $500 to publish her first book.

Email to
[email protected]

Blog:
www.alixtheweaver.wordpress.com
 

Web Page:
www.atweaver-writer.com
 

Books by A. T. Weaver

All are available in print and
Kindle form at Amazon.com and in all ebook formats at Smashwords.com

Acceptance: One Man’s Quest - How
two families react differently to the fact their son is gay.

First Impressions Don’t Count - Just
proves you can’t just people by the way they look. It’s what’s inside that
counts.

Catrion’s Curse - Is the curse
revenge or justice? A story of a love across time.

The Boss’s Son - Danny has a rough
senior year, then he meets Mike. Mike wakes up to find the trick he brought
home from Pride is the son of his boss.

Shifter Born - A lonely immortal
searches for love for over two hundred years

.

When the snow began the white flakes were soft and gentle
kisses that landed on Cameron’s jacket and melted almost instantly. He brushed
at his nose as one landed there and a single drop of ice slid off the slope of
the end.

“We should finish now,” Neal advised. Cameron’s brother and
partner in their small construction company was peering up at the heavy clouds
that threatened a big dump of the white stuff on Christmas Eve. Snow in Tacoma
specifically on this day hadn’t happened for years. Cameron’s watch showed it
was only eleven am, but he wasn’t going to argue with Neal. He shoved hard at the
last piece of wood they were covering with tarpaulin. His brother was right,
they were the wrong side of the bridge and if offices decided to send staff
home, add in the snow and it would be hell to get home themselves.

“Agreed,” he said with a shiver. There was no sense in
hanging around at this large empty house when the owners weren’t back for a
month—Cameron and Neal could make the time up after Christmas. At the car the
brothers exchanged back-slapping hugs and wishes for a good Christmas, but Neal
didn’t let him go straight away. He knew how much Cameron hated the snow and
ice and how memories of Mark haunted him at this time of year.

“You’ll be okay, Cam.” Cameron held his brother tight for an
instant longer, then released him. Neal looked at him steadily. “I can drive us
both; we can leave your truck in the garage?”

For a few seconds Cameron actually considered the offer,
then he shook his head. “I’ll be home in twenty. Stupid not to have my truck at
home.”

Home. Emma, Jason, Deefur.

By the time he made it home, the flakes were large and heavy
and visibility was bad. He was never more relieved to see Jason’s car in the
garage, and as soon as the gates closed behind him and he stopped the engine,
he relaxed the death grip he had on the steering wheel. The drive had been
pretty easy, the roads only just starting to fill as Cameron made his way out
of the city itself and into the suburbs, and he berated himself for even
thinking of wimping out on driving. As his tension became manageable, he
slumped in his seat and closed his eyes. Neal was the only person outside of
Jason who knew what Cameron was fighting as soon as the weather threatened ice
and snow.

The snow had been pristine the evening the cops knocked on
his door, as gorgeous and fresh a carpet as he’d ever seen in the streetlights.
He hadn’t even put two and two together when he opened the door. An accident on
the highway, a semi, Mark’s car. Suddenly his husband was gone, killed by bad
luck and hidden ice. Gone without even being able to say goodbye.

This was his first
real
Christmas with Jason; they’d
fought their attraction last year, still employer and nanny. He had Jason now,
but still he couldn’t shake the memories that crept up on him at times when the
ice and the cold stole into his heart. Somehow Mark wouldn’t let go of him,
with memories all wrapped up in fear. He knew it was irrational. People drove
in the icy snow all the time, and nothing was going to happen to Jason and Emma
if they went out. Tragedy had already rocked his life once, it wouldn’t happen
again because he wouldn’t let it. But, jeez, the minute it turned cold Cameron
began to worry about Jason and Emma in the car, even if it was only traveling
from home to school and back. Jason empathized, he always did. He was
freakishly understanding, utterly compassionate, knew what was in Cameron’s
head, but he never challenged it, and neither did Cameron. Which left Cameron
sitting here, resentful of the gripping memories that meant he felt so damn
scared.

The door between garage and house opened, and Jason
descended the steps into the parking area. He was smiling and had his hand
twisted in Deefur’s collar. Cameron made a show of being very focused on
gathering wallet and papers, then left the car before pocketing his keys.

Jason moved to his side and without words, he pulled Cameron
close. They hugged this way until Cameron realized the cold in the garage was
enough to have both men shivering.

“Hey, sexy,” Jason said finally.

“Hey, yourself,” Cameron replied. They said the same thing
every night. Buried deep in Jason’s hold, Cameron was home, both in heart and
place.

“Let’s get inside. I have coffee.”

“I need coffee.”

“You’re home early.” Jason indicated Cameron should go up
the step, then stopped on the bottom one. Cameron instinctively turned. This
was a ritual, every night, when Cameron came in, if Jason was here then they
would steal kisses before they spent time with Emma. Jason said he couldn’t go
all day without Cameron’s kisses, let alone all evening until Emma was in bed.
Cameron was happy to oblige. He needed that grounding connection today. They
parted and Jason’s hazel-eyed gaze was thoughtful. He added another hug as if
he knew exactly what was in Cameron’s head, and Cameron felt ashamed that he
was allowing old fears to get to him so badly.

“Emma is waiting for the Christmas cookies to be done.”

“You made cookies?”
Of course he did
. Jason was the
perfect partner, he cooked, he worked, he made their house a home, Cameron’s
daughter adored him, the dog adored him, and Cameron was more in love with
Jason than he remembered being with Mark. How much more perfect could Cameron
reasonably get in his life before the universe decided to balance it out with
more tragedy?

“Of course. Christmas trees, Santas, present shapes, and
elephants.” Jason smiled as he said the last.

“Christmas elephants? Makes perfect sense.”

“I’ll let Emma explain that one. Deefur, here.”

Jason called Deefur, but the Great Dane was evidently
experiencing his oft-used selective deafness. He was rooting in amongst the
boxes they used for storage of everything from old photos, baby clothes to all
the folders from Jason’s degree course, which he kept just in case. Thinking of
the degree had Cameron remembering warmer summer days and seeing his lover
receiving his diploma. Jason had passed with flying colors, and he’d started at
the local school where Emma attended preschool in September. Jason was the
architect of the best Christmas Play the school had ever had. Well, according
the head. Apparently Elvis as Santa was a Very Good Thing.

“Deefur, come on.” Jason said. He released his hold on
Cameron and encouraged Deefur out of the boxes with a few muttered words and a
hand on his collar again. Together they made their way up into the house, and
as soon as Cameron rounded the corner, Emma flew at him from the kitchen. He
scooped her up and held her high before swinging her around.