Until There Was You (23 page)

"My dad is very tidy! He is always arguing with Pop about it back home. He always says, 'why can't you clean the dishes'? or 'why are there clothes all over the floor'?" Bailey laughed and jumped up and down, obviously happy to be mocking his dad in public.

"I think this is pretty tidy, actually. You should have seen it this morning," Abel said, putting some logs on the ornate fireplace built into the wall. He placed some kindling in between the hunks of wood and lit it skillfully. All of the empty space in the house glowed with amber light and the warmth was almost immediate. Nate was impressed that Abel seemed so competent. He was always surprised and envious when people could do practical tasks with such ease.

"Are you telling me that you tidied this place today?"

"Uh-huh. Especially for you two." Abel placed the fireguard in front of the flames and winked at Bailey.

"I feel so special!" Nate said.

"Me too, me too. Even if it is kind of messy," Bailey added, pointing towards an untidy stack of boating manuals.

"I can't believe I didn't pack Bay some spare clothes. I planned to. I assumed that he was going to get wet, but I forgot," Nate said, slapping his forehead.

"Well, we can't have the little hero soaking through, can we? That might get rid of some of his superpowers. I tell you what, I don't have any kids clothes, but I am sure I can find an old T-shirt he can wear while his clothes dry off." Abel swooped Bailey into the air and spun him around like he was Superman. Bailey kicked and giggled and held his arm in front of him so he looked like he was flying.

"That would be fantastic. Thank you so much." Nate sighed, relieved that Bailey wouldn't have to sit in his damp clothes and that he wouldn't have to listen to him moan once the excitement of being in a new environment had worn off.

Abel carried Bailey into his bedroom and Nate followed behind, his heart blanketed with a feeling of warmth at the domesticity of the whole scene. Nate shut the feeling down as quickly as could. Abel handed Nate a pajama top, Nate shuffled Bailey out of his soaking clothes, and pulled Abel's huge T-shirt over his wide-stretched arms. Bailey was swamped, surrounded by light blue cotton; he looked lost, like he was in the middle of a fabric sea. He beamed excitedly. Then Abel threw some pajamas at Nate.

Nate reluctantly took off his clothes, shifting his body behind the flimsy privacy of the open wardrobe door,  and quickly slipped into the soft sleepwear. He discreetly inhaled; the cloth smelled of laundry detergent and a little of Abel—woody and rich and spicy. It was a fragrance that he instantly liked and made him feel safe and comfortable. The clothes were too big for him, the shoulders too stretched out and the armholes too wide. He felt like he was a kid again trying on his father's clothes. Being surrounded by something that had been so close to Abel's bare skin felt intimate and powerful, like they were becoming fused together somehow. Nate couldn't help but stare a little as Abel pulled down his tight black jeans. He tried to look away, but he couldn't get his eyes to budge. Abel really did look like he had walked out of a fitness magazine, but he had soulful eyes and a genuine humanity.

Abel looked up and caught Nate staring. He smiled widely and winked, and Nate felt the fire of embarrassment blaze across his cheeks.

"Okay. Umm. Well, maybe I could make dinner and tidy up a little out in the living room?" Nate stammered nervously, trying to get himself back in balance.

"That sounds good. I usually only eat things from a can, so it would make a nice change to eat something that's actually been prepared." Abel grinned and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Nate couldn't help but register the deep V muscle on either side of Abel's lower abdomen.

"So you don't clean and you don't cook. What a catch!" Nate joked.

"Well, I'd never met anyone that I wanted to learn to do those things for before," Abel said honestly. Nate felt Abel's eyes burn into his back, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand up a little.

"Do you at least have groceries that I can attempt to make something with? And where did the food on the boat come from? I was convinced that you were a gourmet chef."

"Yep. I always buy stuff to make dinner. But then I just don't know what to do with it, so I eat something out of a can. I'm gonna start a diet revolution. The all-can diet. My sister makes picnic baskets at the farm store in town, so I grabbed one of those," Abel said, leading Nate and Bailey back into the open plan living room and kitchen.

"The all-processed crap diet," Nate replied as he picked up open newspapers, leaflets, and wrappers and dumped them in the bin.

"That is a bad word," Bailey said tagging behind the adults, happily surveying Abel's home.

Abel pointed to the fridge. "Your Aladdin's cave awaits. Shall I pour us some wine while you're cooking?" he asked.

"Wine is the first thing you need when cooking. It helps the process along immensely," Nate said as he rummaged through the fridge, pulling out some packaged noodles, some barely in-date chicken breasts, and some soy and chili sauce. "We'll have something Chinese, I don't know what yet, but it will have all the key components. I guess."

"Dad, can we do our cooking thing?" Bailey asked, full of enthusiasm.

"I don't think so, Bay. That's for when it's just us two," Nate said as nonchalantly as possible, hoping to avoid any further questions.

"What's your cooking thing?" Abel asked, his interest obviously piqued.

"Nothing, it's just this stupid thing, it's embarrassing. It's nothing," Nate said quietly, busying himself with getting suspiciously unused pots and pans out of various cupboards.

"It's not stupid or embarrassing, it's the best," Bailey whined, slamming his balled-up fists on the kitchen counter.

"I am now officially intrigued. What does your cooking thing involve?" Abel asked, his face breaking into a wide, knowing smile.

"It involves nothing," Nate said as he chopped up the onion and kept his eyes away from Abel's.

"It doesn't sound like nothing. It sounds like a whole lot of something. I demand to know." Abel put his hand gently against the small of Nate's back, out of Bailey's sight. It felt like an intensely intimate gesture, a showing of security and protection as well as a not-too-subtle call for information. Nate felt the muscles either side of his spine tense up under the contact of Abel's hand, and then they relaxed deeply.

"Yes, Dad, Abel demands to know!" Bailey laughed giddily, clearly excited to have someone of his team.

Nate felt his face flush. "Okay, well, sometimes when I'm cooking and it's
just me and Bailey,
we put on some music and we sing along and dance a little bit. It's just this thing I used to do to keep him quiet when he was a baby, and we just kept doing it as he got older. Then he would join in. It stops him getting bored."

"Let's do it," Abel grinned.

"Yeah!" Bailey yelled.

"We don't have any music," Nate muttered halfheartedly.

"One second," Abel said, plugging his iPhone into some speakers that sat on the kitchen counter. "What do you fancy?"

"Do you have
Let's Twist Again
?" Bailey asked excitedly.

"I do," Abel replied, searching through his music library. Within a few seconds, the beat of the song burst through the speakers, and Bailey spun around on the spot, miming the words expertly. Abel picked him up and twirled him, throwing him in the air before putting him back down and twisting with him.

Abel grabbed Nate, pulling him away from the chicken strips that he was cutting, and made him join in. They all raised their arms and sang
Let's Twist Again
as loud as they could. They jumped, stomped, twirled, and did mock-line dancing moves. Bailey clapped as Abel spun Nate away from his body and then back towards it. Then Abel and Nate held Bailey's hands and swung him through the air. They laughed hard, from the bottom of their stomachs. Then they put on
The Time Warp
and danced some more, following the instructions of the song. When the music drifted into another tune, Nate got back to cooking, still swaying his hips animatedly, and Abel poured some wine into rustic mason jars.

Abel handed Nate the drink and then went back to grooving with Bailey. Nate fried the chicken strips in a skillet and then mixed in the rehydrated noodles. He doused it in soy sauce and looked down at the food suspiciously; it looked a little like a bunch of brown mush. Abel set the table and they sat down to eat.

"This is good. It's
really
good; you can actually cook," Abel said in between big mouthfuls.

"It's nice to know that I'm not completely incompetent, but it's nothing special. We should have forced Emma to make us some takeaway." Nate laughed, taking a long sip of wine.

"Well, no, you're not
completely
incompetent." Abel lit up the room with his trademark pearly smile and Nate felt his heart skip a long beat.

"I like it too, Dad!" Bailey said, trying to spear some chicken with his fork.

"Good, you're doing so well with it. You've got the appetite of a tiger," Nate replied.

Bailey roared, pretending to be a big cat, cupping his little hands as if he had paws.

Nate jumped a little as he felt Abel's hand rest on his knee. Nate didn't want to like it as much as he did; he wanted to be grown up and independent and self-sufficient, but something about Abel's touch made the world seem as though it had lost all of its rules. Everything seemed to shift slightly off its axis, unspooling with every lingering bit of contact. Nate, careful to be out of sight of Bailey, rested his hand on top of Abel's, brushing the skin with his thumb.

As Nate washed up the dirty plates and put them away, they all sang together. Old songs and new ones, anything any of them could muster. When everything was done, they sat by the fire and played I Spy and charades, talking, laughing, and falling into the comfortable rhythm of daily, uncomplicated life.

After a while, Bailey yawned, his little mouth making a perfect circle of exhaustion.

"Come on, little guy, we better take you home," Nate said, standing up from his comfortable seat and stretching upwards.

"I think I'll sleep here," Bailey whispered, and snuggled up towards the soft, plush fabric of the couch he was lying on.

"Buddy, Abel doesn't want us taking up any more of his time or house. We don't want to outstay our welcome." Nate sighed, knowing that he was entering a battle with Bailey that could go on for a while. Tiredness had roped its way around Nate's muscles; it had been a more eventful day than he had anticipated.

"Are you kidding me? You guys could never outstay your welcome. You can stay here," Abel said, something fragile and hopeful in his voice that Nate heard, and recognized, instantly.

"Yes, Dad, we could never outstay our welcome," Bailey repeated, putting his thumb in his mouth. He looked like he had run a marathon, half-moons of sleep under his eyes.

"You know, I've got to go to the high school tomorrow and talk to the students, so we better get back." Nate pretended to yawn to drive the point home.

"Okay, Bailey. I think your dad is right. You should go back to your own bed; that way you will feel much fresher when you wake up. Plus, you don't want your Nan and Granddad to miss you! Just think of how sad they'll be if they don't see you," Abel added. "I'll drive you guys back now and I'll meet you in the morning and take you to our old high school. Is that a fair deal? I'll show you all around." Nate looked at Abel appreciatively. Part of him wanted to stay and extend the night, but he knew that going back home was the better option.

"I would rather stay here. But I guess that's okay—as long as we go back on the boat soon! I think it should be you, Granddad, and me, because Dad is bad at being on a boat," Bailey said, half asleep, his voice raspy with fatigue.

Nate rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Come on, buddy, you are obviously tired because you're being silly. I am
great
at being on a boat." Nate picked Bailey up from the couch and carried him to the door.

"Let's get going, then," Abel said, picking up his keys and opening the front door. "Follow me."

*~*~*

The car came to a stop in front of Ava and Bernard's house. Nate jumped out of the truck, unbuckled Bailey from the children's car seat, and put his little feet on the floor. "I'm just going to take Bailey inside and then I'll come back out and say goodbye," Nate whispered.

"Okay, I'll be here."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Abel! I am excited to go to Dad's old school with you. I want to hear about all the fun things you two did together," Bailey said excitedly before yawning and nuzzling into Nate's shoulder sleepily. Nate saw Abel's face grow red and noticed a look of shame flash in his crystal blue eyes. The specter of high school loomed large over them and Nate wished that he could sweep it away, put the painful parts of the past in a box, and bury it deep into the ground.

"I'll see you tomorrow, little buddy. I hope you have a good night's sleep," Abel said. His voice did not hide his anger at himself.

Nate carried Bailey to the front door, knocked gently, and waited for his Dad to answer.

"Hey Dad, can you take Bailey to bed? He is really tired, so he should go straight to sleep. I am just going to say bye to Abel and thank him for taking us out on his boat. I'll only be five minutes," Nate said apologetically, unable to get rid of the childish whine that his voice took on whenever his Dad was around.

"Come on, Bailey. Let's get you settled; I don't know what Nathaniel is thinking, keeping you up this late." Bernard pulled Bailey from Nate's embrace. "Don't be long. I was in bed. And be quiet when you come back in. I'll leave the door unlocked," he added sharply, before closing the door in Nate's face.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," Nate whispered at the closed door so that Bailey would not be able to hear him. He wanted to kick the door down, but settled for stomping his feet on the porch instead.

"Is everything all right? You look like you're doing some kind of tribal dance." Nate turned around and saw that Abel was leaning against the truck, looking concerned.