The Handyman's Dream (27 page)

“I know. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let him run me out of Porterfield.” Ed considered, for a moment, leaving his hometown, his family, and his clients. “I won’t go without a fight. I proved to myself today, even if I didn’t get to knock Murkland flat, that I’m not afraid to fight if I need to. Remember what you said the other day, about how wrong it was for someone to find something ugly in you loving me? Well, I feel the same way about you. I’ll defend my right to love you, even if the Welcome to Porterfield sign is in our rearview while I’m doing it.”

Rick’s arm around Ed tightened. “I love you so much, baby,” he whispered. “You’re more of a man than Jim Murkland could ever hope to be. You’d think people would see that, and maybe some of them do. Maybe that’s why Don didn’t say any more than he did today. I don’t know. I guess time will tell if Porterfield will accept or at least tolerate us. I don’t want to leave, either. For whatever reason, this goofy town has become home for me. Maybe it’s because I found you here, but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I just want you to know, though, that I can live with you, and love you, in Porterfield or anywhere else in the world. You know that, right, baby?”

“I know that. I feel the same way. As long as we’re strong, like Mrs. Penfield said, we’ll be okay, wherever we are.”

Ed kissed Rick, loving him deeply. He didn’t know what time would tell them about living in Porterfield, but he knew that time had already proven to him that Rick Benton was the man with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. That knowledge, he thought, made him feel stronger than he’d ever felt in his twenty-eight years.

Ed looked at the stereo, where “Celebration” was lying on the turntable. He got up and flipped the switch. The record began to spin, and soon the joyful song was pouring out of the speakers.

“Enough of this fag-hater talk.” Ed pulled Rick to his feet. “We are gonna spend this whole weekend celebrating. You have your route back, I almost decked the biggest pest I’ve ever known, and I think we made a new friend today. Last time I checked too, you didn’t have to work tomorrow, which means I get to spend two nights with the man I love. If that ain’t worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.”

Rick, laughing, began to follow Ed’s shuffling steps to the music.

“You forgot one thing,” Rick said, putting his arms on Ed’s shoulders. “Every day I spend with you is worth celebrating. Being with you, baby, is a party that never ends.”

Chapter Seventeen

Ed rolled his truck to a stop in his snow-covered driveway and wearily took in the unbroken expanse of white surrounding his house. After a day spent removing snow from his clients’ walks and drives, he now had to take care of his own.

He drove the truck into the garage and grabbed his shovel from the bed. His fingers were tired and his toes were tingling from the cold. As much as he wanted to clear the four inches of new snow from his walks—just get it over with and call it a day—he knew he had to go inside for a rest and allow his toes to thaw for a while.

Ed dearly loved every season of the year and their individual gifts, but he had to admit he’d had enough of winter’s gift of snow. Arctic air had settled over northern Indiana, and a chain of weather disturbances had sent lake-effect snow blowing across Porterfield nonstop for several days. Ed was proud of the fact that he kept his regular clients’ walks cleared with just a shovel and his own sturdy back, but he was beginning to think wistful thoughts about the snow blower he’d seen recently at the lumberyard. Groundhog Day wasn’t far off, and he hoped that any critters who popped their heads up that morning would have to look damned hard to find a shadow.

Once he’d settled in an easy chair with a cup of hot tea, he began to unwind. The furnace thrummed reassuringly in the basement, and he allowed the warmth of the house to settle upon him. He gave thanks it was Saturday; soon Rick would arrive, cold and tired from his daily struggle of delivering mail through the snow. They would have the rest of the weekend to pamper and care for one another, to renew their energy for another week of battling the elements.

He caught a glimpse of a vehicle turning into his driveway. He stood up to see who it was, as it was too early for Rick. It turned out to be his brother-in-law, Todd, who had borrowed Ed’s electric drill the night before.

Ed met Todd at the back door. “You didn’t have to drag yourself out in the snow to get this back to me,” Ed said by way of greeting.

Todd stamped his snow-covered boots on the already snow-covered mat inside Ed’s door. “Call it cabin fever.” Todd grinned. “The kids are driving Laurie crazy. They’re bored with the snow and their Christmas toys. I would have taken any excuse to get out of the house for a while.”

Ed laughed, ushering Todd into the kitchen. “Sit down, sit down.” He poured another cup of tea for Todd. “I’m trying to get myself outside to clean my walks, so I’ll take any excuse to stay inside awhile longer.”

Todd gratefully accepted the hot drink. “Thanks again for letting me borrow your drill. I save a fortune in tools, having a brother-in-law who’s a handyman.”

“No sweat,” Ed said, joining him at the table.

They talked amiably for a while about Laurie, the kids, and the weather.

“There’s something else I should probably tell you, Ed,” Todd said, looking into his tea mug. “I debated all the way over here whether to say anything, but I guess forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes.”

“What’s up?”

Todd sighed, sipping his tea. “Well, after my businessmen’s basketball league game Wednesday night, I stopped by Buck’s Bar downtown with some of the guys. That jackass Jim Murkland was in there. He’d had a few, and he came staggering up to me, wanting to know how I felt about having a faggot for a brother-in-law.”

Ed felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. “What’d you say to him?”

Todd shrugged. “Told him to shut his face if he didn’t want to pick his front teeth out of a snowdrift. What else? Like I’d give a rat’s ass what Murk the Jerk says, but I thought you should know.”

Ed scowled, looking out the window above Todd’s head. “Yeah, I almost beat the crap out of him a couple of weeks ago at the post office. He’d been giving Rick shit about hanging around me. Considering how dumb he is, I don’t know how he figured out what’s going on with us, but somehow he did. Either that, or I just confirmed his suspicions, threatening him the way I did. I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry about it, Ed. I know that’s easy for me to say, especially since I’m the guy who told you about this, but I just wanted you to know what he’s saying, and that you can’t think of you and Rick as some deep, dark secret. People are beginning to be aware of it. You know Laurie and I don’t care, and I was really impressed with Rick when you brought him over on Christmas. Hell, I’d trust the two of you with my kids before I would my own brother. It’s just that people in this town talk. They always have and they always will. I oughta know. My mom’s one of the best talkers in Porterfield.”

Ed thought briefly of Eunice Ames, Todd’s mother, and what she might have to say about his relationship with Rick. “Does she know about it?”

“I don’t know.” Todd looked unconcerned. “But again, I wouldn’t worry about it. Homosexuality isn’t one of her hang-ups. She gets hot and bothered with how much money someone has and what their social standing is. You know that. Besides, whatever feud she may have with Norma, she’s always liked you. I don’t think it would faze her all that much.”

Ed tapped his fingers on the table in frustration. “So what are you telling me, Todd? Porterfield is talking about Rick and me in shocked whispers or something, and I should ignore it? Or is this when I put a For Sale sign in the front yard and leave town?”

“Ignore it,” Todd said flatly. “Don’t get all crazy on me here. Look, people talk, like I said. They don’t have anything better to do, but they’re not gonna do anything. They want to feel they’re better than you in some way, and let’s face it, it makes good conversation at the bar or over a bridge table. Bottom line, nobody in this town is gonna mess with someone named Stephens, anymore than they’d mess with someone named Ames. If anyone notices what Rick and you have got going on, they’re also gonna notice that you’re still the same Ed Stephens, shoveling walks and repairing lamps and stuff. When they get bored with the topic, they’ll move on to someone else, like always.

“Again,” Todd stressed, “I just wanted you to know, so if some asshole actually has the guts to say something to your face, you’re prepared. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Ed muttered.

“What’s the old song from the sixties, the one about the P.T.A.? You’re such a music nut you should remember it.”

“‘Harper Valley P.T.A.,’” Ed said, a grin actually coming onto his face.

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Todd grinned back at him. “All small towns are like that, just a bunch of hypocrites talkin’ shit while the skeletons fall out of their own closets.”

“I know, but I can’t help but worry about Rick’s job.”

“I wouldn’t. Don Hoffmeyer was one of your dad’s best friends, and he’s not stupid. He’s not gonna unload a good employee because someone like Murk the Jerk is talkin’ trash. And don’t get any ideas about leaving town. This is your home, and it’s Rick’s home, too, now. Your mom needs you, and Laurie and the kids need you. Hell, I need you, too.” Todd laughed. “If you take off, who am I gonna borrow tools from?”

Ed sighed, already wondering if he should tell Rick about this conversation, but knowing he probably would, whether he wanted to or not. “Thanks, Todd. For telling me about this, I guess, but more for being so cool about it. Rick and I are really lucky that our families support us. That’s pretty rare, you know.”

Todd shrugged that off. “That’s what families are for, or they’re supposed to be anyway. I suppose I should get home, make sure Laurie hasn’t killed one of the monsters yet. Thanks for the tea, and for letting me borrow your drill.” He clapped Ed on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Ed. Truth is, they don’t come any better. Don’t let any of the assholes in this town tell you any different.”

Ed watched Todd drive off, Jeannie C. Riley’s voice in his head, singing about small-town hypocrites.Todd was right. Ed knew that. Since the night he had abandoned Cathy Carroll on the dance floor at the senior prom, he’d wondered if someday the people of Porterfield would talk about him. He’d been listening to their gossip for years, letting it roll in one ear and out the other, not unlike the soap operas a lot of his clients watched every day.

So Ed Stephens’s name had finally entered the gossip mill that was Porterfield. He briefly longed for his days of invisibility, but knew to return to that time meant giving up Rick, something he’d never do. Rick and his love had given Ed’s life a meaning it had never had, and to lose that was unthinkable. Janis Ian’s song, “At Seventeen,” came to his mind, and he tried to remember that one line, something about gaping small-town eyes. Let ’em gape, he thought, his tired back straightening. Let ’em get a good, long look at what real love is.

Ed, as any good man in love should, felt the love he and Rick shared was bigger, better, and purer than any love the world had ever known. Anyone who saw fit to disparage it was automatically a fool in Ed’s eyes. A lesser man might have have poured himself another cup of tea, maybe throwing a shot of whiskey in it. Ed, however, pulled his snow boots back on and went outside to shovel his walks in plain sight of Porterfield.

* * * * *

Ed was pulling his boots off again when the phone rang. He clumped, boots unlaced, to answer it.

“Ed? It’s Effie Maude Sanders.” The voice of Mrs. Penfield’s housekeeper rolled into Ed’s ears, not unlike the sounds of the scratchy records he’d been playing for months now. “I thought you should know Mrs. P.’s had a bit of an accident. Slipped on some ice on the front porch.”

“Oh, no! Is she badly hurt?”

“Naw,” Effie Maude said. “Pshaw, she just twisted her ankle. Scared her more ’un anything. Doc Weisberg looked her over and told her to keep her weight off it for a few days. I’ve got her all set up in the study where she sleeps when that ’ritis of hers keeps her from climmin’ steps.

“Anyways,” she continued, “I’ll stay over here for a few days. No problem, since my brother can tend the stock out to the farm, but I need to be at the church social tonight. Promised I’d take care of things in the kitchen. You think you could come over and sit with her for a spell while I’m gone?”

“Of course. When do you need to leave?”

“Oh, six should be just fine, if you can make it. I want to leave a li’l early, on account of the snow. I’m much obliged to ya, Ed.”

“No problem. Rick and I will come over as soon as we’ve eaten,” Ed assured her. “We’ll be over there by six.”

Ed hung up the phone, just as Rick’s car pulled in the driveway.

“Well, this weekend sure isn’t turning out the way I had hoped,” he said.

He was sorry for Mrs. Penfield’s misfortune, but glad of an excuse for them to visit her. Thinking back on his conversation with Todd, he thought a visit with one of their biggest fans might be just what they needed.

* * * * *

Ed and Rick jumped out of Ed’s truck, their door slams sounding like rifle shots in the cold, still night. They walked from Mrs. Penfield’s driveway to her back door along the path Ed had cleared earlier that day. Rick’s face was tight and troubled. Over dinner Ed had told him of his conversation with Todd, and nothing Ed had said since would erase the look from Rick’s face. Ed hoped Mrs. Penfield might have better luck with easing Rick’s mind than he’d had himself.

Effie Maude met them at the back door, dressed for the cold and snow in a huge parka, the hood thrown back to reveal her gray hair pinned tightly into a bun. Her polka-dot, Saturday-night social dress just cleared the tall, heavy rubber boots she wore. Ed was relieved to see the ghost of a grin flit across Rick’s face at the sight of her.

“C’mon in, boys,” she rasped as usual. “Good to see you. How’re the roads out there?”

“Snow-covered,” Ed reported. “It’s too cold for the road salt to do much good. Be careful, okay?”

“Pshaw, I’ve been drivin’ in snow since before either one of you was born. Only day I didn’t make it in to Mrs. P.’s was the blizzard of ’78, ya know. I can handle this stuff easy.”

“How’s Mrs. Penfield?” Rick asked.

“Aw, just fine,” Effie Maude said, leading them into the kitchen, showing them where to leave their wet boots. “Doc Weisberg was over here first thing after I called ’im. You know those two go way back and all. Mrs. P.’s probably the only one left in town he’d do a house call for.”

“That really is something,” Ed said. He hadn’t received a house call from Dr. Weisberg since he’d been in grade school.

“Well, ya know I always thought, with Mr. P. gone and the doc’s wife gone, that those two would get together, but what with the doc bein’ a Jew, and how this town talks, I guess it’ll never happen.”

“Effie Maude,” Ed protested. “What a thing to say.”

“Now, Ed, you know well as me how this town is,” she said, heading for the door. “Talk, talk, talk. That’s all most of ’em are good for. Don’t bother me none. Never has. If you live a good life, nothin they say can hurt ya any. Mrs. P. knows that, but maybe she decided she was just too old to take on another man.” She shrugged. “Thanks, boys. I’ll be back in a few hours.” She threw the hood of her parka over her head and slammed the door behind her.

Rick actually laughed at the expression on Ed’s face.

“Dr. Weisberg and Mrs. Penfield?” Ed asked in surprise. “I think the old girl has more going on than I know.”

“Let’s go ask her,” Rick said, mischievous grin in place. Ed was glad to see it.

Mrs. Penfield was resting in a twin bed she’d had placed in her late husband’s study. She was sitting up, a book in her lap, and was very pleased to see her company.