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  “Hopefully again soon. I want to show you I can go longer.”

  We adjusted ourselves on the bed to spoon, Cody as the inner spoon and me the outer. Our heads rested on pillows.

  “I’m serious. I don’t usually bottom.”

  “And I don’t usually top.” My fingers caressed his arm. I would be hard-pressed to remember the last time. My previous boyfriends had all been aggressive and dominant. It does not always equate with sexual positions, but it did seem to be a pattern with the guys I liked. It was refreshing with Cody to have had the chance to switch things up.

  “I guess what I’m trying to say is…well, I really like you. I wouldn’t do that with just anyone.”

  I squeezed him and kissed his shoulder.

  “I really like you, too.” I felt tension escape his body as if he did not think he and I were feeling the same things. I had assured him that this was more than a fling. “You’ve caught me by surprise this summer. You’ve made me feel young again.”

  “You are young.”

  “In gay years, I’m old.”

  “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Don’t start wishing you were anything different.”

  I squeezed him again. I realized I might be Cody’s first real relationship. He seemed to be falling hard and fast. My calloused heart made me want to pump the breaks, but maybe I should just let myself go. It was time to figure out if I was really in this and figure out what we had together. No more thoughts about Josh. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was devastate Cody.

  He began to snore lightly as I held him. He felt at home here with me. He was in this. If I let him, maybe he could teach me what love really was.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days passed. The restaurant was busy and Cody’s schedule kept us apart. He insisted on staying in his Airstream, “I need to sleep. I’d just be in your way.”

  I tried to get him to change his mind—I could take care of him so he did not have to worry about food or laundry. Finally, I relented.

  I hit a sweet spot in writing. One of my minor characters suddenly revealed a dark secret—the subplot blended nicely with the arc of the whole story. I spent my time fleshing out this new element and editing earlier parts of the novel to make it fit. My fingers flew over the keyboard.

  “This is good work, Alex,” my editor Dan said on our conference call. “Your fans will be pleased. They’ve been hungry for a powerful story like this for some time.”

  I mined the inspiration for all that I could. I knew plenty of times when I got nothing when I sat down to write. I could not pass this up. And the subtext of my editor’s comments were my previous works were not really up to par and I needed to right the ship. Instead of going to the restaurant to have a meal or even a couple glasses of wine, I stayed in the cabin to work. I texted Cody an apology for not stopping by, “Work hard. See you Sunday.” Then an eggplant emoji—I was learning.

  I was putting together a plate of cheese and crackers for a snack when Beau started barking and ran to the door. I looked up and saw two men as they stepped onto the porch—Josh, and a man I assumed to be Ethan.

  “Alex, are you here?” Josh knocked on the screen door.

  Beau jumped up and put his paws on the screen door and barked. I grabbed him and pulled him back. “Hey, Josh. Come on in. I’ve got Beau.”

  He opened the screen door and the two stepped inside the cabin. Beau wagged his tail, eager to meet people. Josh held out his hand and Beau sniffed and began to calm down. I let him go and he set about meeting the visitors. Ethan gave Beau a good scratch behind the ears.

  “Alex, this is Ethan. Ethan…Alex. The writer.”

  We extended our hands and gave a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.” What had Josh told Ethan about me besides what I did for a living? Did he know that I helped out in the office? Had he gone into any details about our encounters?

  Ethan looked just like his picture in Josh’s room. Tall, handsome, dark hair, and broad white smile. He continued to pet Beau and Beau was eating it up. “Who’s a good boy?”

  “What brings you guys by?”

  “I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Josh put his hand on his hip and then crossed his arms and then uncrossed them, all in a matter of seconds. Not quite the confident Josh I was used to seeing. “Are you free for the day to watch the office? Ethan and I have to go take care of some things in Phoenix. We should be back tonight.”

  I thought about my writing and my current streak. I did not really want to pull away from my work. I could set up my laptop in the lobby and write there, but the packing up and setting up seemed like an unnecessary stumbling block to the day.

  “You need me right now?”

  “We have to get on the road as soon as possible. I know its last minute.”

  Josh looked at me and mouthed, “Please.” He looked like a boy who really wanted to get his way and knew how to turn up the charm.

  I did not owe Josh any favors. He had some nerve to come up and ask for help. And stopping in with Ethan when he had asked me to stay away?

  “It’s more about George. I’m worried I’m going to be gone too long and he’ll need something.” That was the card he had waited to play knowing that despite what Josh had done, my friendship with George was important to me.

  “I guess I can hang out down there. I’ve been meaning to stop in and see George anyway.”

  “We really appreciate it,” Ethan stood and looked from me to Josh. “We should get on the road.”

  “Thanks again, Alex.” Josh followed Ethan out the door and I surveyed my desk to inventory what I should take down with me to work.

  Through the screen door I could hear Ethan talking, “You said he was cute…definitely your type. Very much your type. Hard to believe you didn’t bang him.”

  Josh’s response was muffled as they continued to down the hill. Technically, we had not “banged”. Had Josh talked at all about what we had done? If this emergency errand had not arisen, how long would it have been before Ethan and I even crossed paths?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The office was quiet when I let myself in. I checked to see if there were any expected check-ins. There were two but expected to arrive later, near closing. These visitors would make for a full park. I had not been paying much attention on how things were going with occupancy. A full park was definitely a good thing for George…and Josh.

  The desk was surprisingly tidy—was Josh finally getting his act together or had Ethan stepped in to help. I peeked into the inner office. The boxes were there and I figured I could spend some time sorting through those when I needed a break from writing.

  I touched the mouse on the computer and the screen came alive. No porn this time.

  I grabbed a box and returned to the front office and set it down behind the counter. I looked to my laptop and notebooks on the counter and then down at the box. I should spend the time writing. But the possibility that more information about Gray Whitlock was tucked in the boxes made me curious to start digging.

  I sat on the ground and spread the contents of the box in front of me. There were ledgers, but unlike the other boxes, more loose paper and envelopes. I set the ledgers in a stack to look through later and began the process of sorting the remainder into piles. The first stack was old invoices and bills that needed to go into the shredder. Envelopes of any kind I put into a second pile. The third pile was any loose scrap.

  The envelopes drew my attention and I began to inspect each one more closely. All of them were addressed to George but had no return address. The handwriting on each was similar, clearly the same hand on different days setting pen to paper.

  I opened one envelope and unfolded a handwritten letter. I scanned to the bottom—signed by Gray. Surprised and thrilled by my discovery, I continued to open envelopes and unfold the paper. In an arc, I spread them out, sorting by the date written at the top. The time spanned from the mid-80’s through to the late 90’s. I read from the beginnin
g as Gray wrote about his college days and being away from home. At times, Gray seemed to be responding directly to questions George had asked in his own letters. He must have asked questions, offered advice, and let Gray know he wanted to know everything about possible majors, fraternity life, and even the women he was meeting.

  The tone of the early letters was of a man reaching out to his mentor for guidance. Knowing now that Gray was gay, I could only assume he was struggling with those feelings in college. He asked about women and what to do next in dating. But was he really looking for ways to impress them? Were these actual women he was talking about or was he covering up a crush on a male classmate?

  The summer between junior and senior year brought a change in tone. They seemed to be more intimate and conversational. Less mentor and mentee and more friends separated by distance. I caught some references to fishing trips and time spent together. If Gray was looking for advice, it was more about what books to read and where a good weekend road trip might take him.

  That December, Gray talked about seeing the movie Philadelphia over Christmas break; he went to a daytime showing miles from ASU to avoid running into anyone from school who might recognize him or wonder why he was there. “I’d love to hear your thoughts. Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington are great. They should do well at the Oscars.” Hanks had gone on to win for Best Actor, and the world saw a mainstream portrayal of what life was like for a gay man with AIDS.

  I sympathized with Gray on his fear of being seen watching certain movies. It was silly to think that a simple act could signal to others a difference. But were Gray’s fellow football players going to see Philadelphia? Probably not. I had expanded options to rent movies and later to have DVD’s shipped to my house. Even then I felt like everyone could tell I was going to watch something that had a gay character or was a musical or chick flick.

  Letters were written further apart once Gray was in dental school. He was serious now and feeling the pressure of completing his program and starting his practice. “I’ve decided to move back home and work with John Collins until he retires. I love the city, but I miss getting out in the woods. Can we plan some fishing trips this summer? I look forward to seeing you again. Love, Gray.”

  I set the letter down. The use of “love” was an interesting choice. Was this used in a platonic sense? Or was there more there? Was it possible that something more than friendship had developed between these two men?

  The George I had known was a widower who missed his wife and had only one other love—his business here. He knew about me and we talked openly about my love life. He had surprised me with his willingness to discuss the men in my life and to offer advice. He mentored me very much like he seemed to have been mentoring Gray. My first summer here, I was in the end stages of a six-year relationship with my ex. I discussed our problems and he told me stories about the struggles he had faced with his wife and how they had overcome them. Never a mention of anything else or any other context.

  Marriage to a woman had created doubt in my mind that Gray Whitlock was gay. Was I blinded by the possibility that George was gay? Many gay men got married. Some because of deeply held religious beliefs, others pressured by family, and others just because they believed there was no other option. I benefited from the trailblazers who had shown that there were other options. Men older than me did not have those same trailblazers.

  I collected the letters, stacking them from top to bottom in order and placing a binder clip at the top. I returned the rest of the box’s contents to the box for another day. I spent the afternoon waiting for the anticipated guests to check in. Attempts to write were blocked by thoughts of George and Gray and the letters. Mid-afternoon, I walked down to check in on George and found him snoring in his recliner. A chat about the letters could wait for another day, but that day would be very soon.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Are you mad at me?” Cody poured my first glass of wine at a table in the corner of the restaurant. I had my file of newspaper clippings and the letters.

  I paused from spreading out the papers and said, “Not at all! Why would you say that?”

  “You didn’t want to sit at the bar where I can talk to you better,” Cody grinned. He was teasing, but I was so much in my head about what I had found that being social was the last thing on my mind.

  “Sorry. I just wanted to be able to spread all of this out.” I reached over to grab his ass and gave it a squeeze. “I’d rather be hanging out with you.”

  “What is all this?”

  “I found more stuff about Gray Whitlock. I know…it’s a weird obsession that I should forget about, but the letters I found raised so many more questions.”

  “Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll get an idea for a novel out of all of this. I think any real answers are unlikely. Do you want any food?”

  “Not right now. Thanks.” I winked and he turned his attention to the table of four that needed to order.

  I paired the clippings with the letters in chronological order. Maybe the sequence of events would provide some sort of insight. Then, I started from the beginning and read everything, picking up a letter and associated newspaper clippings, then setting them back down to continue with the makeshift timeline on the table. I looked up as Molly approached the table and asked to sit down. I motioned to a chair across from me and set down the current letter I was reading.

  “I was wondering if I was going to see you again. After today, I’m going to stick close to home until the baby comes. Jim wants me to go stay with my mom, but I’m finding any excuse to delay that decision.” Molly rolled her eyes.

  “You’re not close, I take it.”

  “Not really. She’s kind of…difficult. I sometimes wish we were closer and that we should make an effort to see each other more. But whenever we do get together, I end up wanted to tear my hair out.” Molly laughed, “I’m being dramatic, but she really makes it hard to try. She won’t even come up here to the restaurant. It’s always me driving to her.”

  “Maybe now with the baby…” Sometimes a new life made the adults see everything for a new perspective.

  “We shall see. It would be nice to have the help.” She eyed my wine with envy as I raised the glass to my lips. “I’d kill for one of those right now.”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Molly’s eyes moved away from the wine and down to the papers scattered in front of me. “What’s all this?”

  “A crazy research project. I found some things going through old boxes in George’s office. It’s probably nothing, but I can’t help myself from trying to piece things together and figure out what has happened in the past.”

  “A mystery. How exciting.” Molly leaned in with her elbows on the table. She scanned the papers that were upside down to her. Her gaze stopped on the clipping of Gray and his wife’s wedding announcement. She pointed, “Can I see that?”

  I handed her the notice. Did she recognize the faces in the picture? She grew up in the area and may have known the family. He may have even been her dentist as a kid. Maybe Molly knew Gray’s kids in school or some other activity. Maybe Valerie was her teacher at some point. Why had I not thought of this sooner?

  “I don’t understand, Alex. Why is my parent’s wedding announcement in George’s old files?” Molly looked at me and then back down to the clipping.

  “Wait. Your parents?”

  “Yes, this is the mother we were just talking about…and my dad. He’s been dead for fifteen years.”

  I leaned towards Molly and asked again in disbelief, “Gray Whitlock is your father?”

  “Well, he was until he blew his brains out.” She set the clipping down and met my gaze, “What is this all about?”

  “That’s my question. It seems like George and your dad knew each other. He has all the clippings of your dad in football, the wedding announcement…several years’ worth of details about your father.”

  Molly shook her head, “I never knew George and my
father were close. Here he’s been in my own backyard for years and I didn’t know. I have so many questions for him. My mother seems to have scared everyone else off from talking about him to me. I grew up in a town where everyone knew him but no one talks about him or his death.”

  The reality of the situation was still sinking in. I also had been looking for answers and may have had them right in front of me all of this time. “I met your mom—at the library the other day.”

  “I’m sure she was pleasant. She probably told you just enough to think you heard it all so you‘d go away and stop asking.” Molly folded her arms and scowled. “Is there anything I should know?”

  Should know? That was a tricky question. Molly’s father may or may not have been gay and killed himself near the wood where men went to hook up together. Did she need to know that? She was my friend and about to give birth. Was now even the time to mention the letters and how they grew more intimate over time? Would she read an implication into the salutation including the word “love”? Who would not want to see letters written in your own father’s handwriting? Could I share them with her? Or should I be selective about them? More importantly, had she been protected too much by too many people? Would showing her the truth be what she really needed?

  “Do you know why he killed himself? Your mother said she didn’t know…but you say that might have been a ploy.”

  Molly looked out the window. Her eyes, definitely an inheritance from her mother, were wet. “He was sick. He feared he would not get better. I’ve tried to get more details but my mother is a stubborn woman. He was depressed and drove to the lake. You probably know the rest.”

  “Did he go to the lake often?”

  “Not that I know of. I always assumed he looked for a secluded spot where he could be alone. I supposed he had been there before. I was so young. I have no idea if he fished or had a boat or anything. Alex, I honestly know nothing about him.”