Authors: Josh Aterovis
“You remember Bryan, right?” Will asked. It was clear by the way he said it that he fully expected us to know him. Asher must have been as blank as I was, though, since an awkward silence stretched out, making it obvious that we did not, in fact, remember
Bryan
.
“He performed my wedding?” Will prompted. I was surprised at how easily he mentioned the wedding, without any outward sign of grief.
“Oh!” I said, suddenly placing him, “You look different when you're not in a suit.”
Bryan
laughed. “I get that a lot.”
“You're the pastor at the
“Right,”
Bryan
confirmed, “And if I remember correctly you're Killian and Asher. I've heard a lot about you guys. How's your dad, Killian?”
I blinked in surprise until I realized what he meant, “You mean Adam?”
“Yeah, did I mess that up?” He smiled in an appealing, self-depreciating manner. “Aren't you Killian Connelly, Adam's son?”
“Well my name is Killian Kendall, actually. I'm not really Adam's son, although he's been like a dad to me; closer than a dad, really. He's good. Him and Steve, that's his partner, are buying a house and turning it into a bed and breakfast.”
“I've met Steve. Where's the house?”
“In
Chicone
.”
“Not too far from here then.”
“How do you know Adam and Steve, just from the wedding?”
“No, I knew Adam before the wedding. That's why he called on me. The gay community is small enough here on the Shore that if you are out and at all social you pretty much know everyone. Hey, I don't mean to be dominating the conversation. You didn't come here to see me. I'll get going and let you guys talk.” He stood up and handed
Darin
over to Will. We made a token protest but he waved them away and let himself out.
I waited until I heard his car door slam before I spun around to face Will. “So, does the Reverend Bryan come around often?” I said with a teasing grin. Asher carefully took
Darin
from Will's arms and settled in the middle of the sofa.
“A few times,” Will said blushing, “It doesn't mean anything. He's just making visits, you know, like for the church.”
I cocked an eyebrow, a trick I'd learned from Adam. “How often do you attend his church?”
“Well, I've never been…”
“And does he make all his visits dressed like that?”
“It's a very relaxed church,” Will
said
defensively.
I burst out laughing. “I'm just teasing you, Will. Don't get your boxers in a bunch. Although, you never know, maybe he is interested in you.”
“I'm not ready for that yet, Killian. Don't rush things.”
“Ok, ok. So how are you feeling?” I sat down on one side of Asher and took
Darin's
tiny hand in mine. Will plopped down on the other end of the sofa with a sigh.
“Tired!
He's such a good baby, but if only he would sleep through the night, just one night. Mom tries to help out as much as possible but she works all kinds of shifts so she needs her sleep more.”
“Are you painting?” I said even though I thought I knew the answer.
“Are you kidding? I don't have enough energy to walk to the mailbox some days.”
“Maybe you should get some help,” Asher suggested.
“Like what, a nanny? I can't afford that.”
“Well if you had, like, a daycare person you could get a job, maybe start painting again. Nikki would still sell your stuff, right?”
He shrugged, “Maybe, I don't know. I don't know if I want to paint anymore and I don't know what else I would do. You guys want something to drink?” It was an obvious attempt to change the subject. While he was doing better, he wasn't completely healed yet by a long shot.
“Sure,” Asher said, accepting the dodge.
“Killian, would you give me a hand?”
“Ok,” I said, caught a little off guard. I followed Will into his kitchen. “Are you and Asher back together?” he asked me as he pulled three glasses out of the kitchen cabinet.
“No,” I said quickly.
“I didn't know with the two of you arriving together and all.”
“My car is out of commission and Asher wanted me to meet someone so we drove over together. I could have driven Adam's car but since we were going to the same place it seemed silly.”
“Well, at least you're getting along. You're going to try the whole friend thing?”
“I guess. It's awkward. Sometimes I feel myself slipping back into habits. I have to keep reminding myself not to kiss him or put my arm around him, little things. I think it's over between us, though. We've both started moving on.”
“Well, I know I'm probably a little biased, seeing as how Asher is my cousin and all, but I think you guys were great together. I hope you work things out.”
“I'm not sure there's anything to work out,” I said as he leaned into the refrigerator. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he pulled out a pitcher of iced tea and began pouring it into the glasses.
“Are you moving on?”
“I don't follow.”
“From Aidan, are you ready to move on?
Bryan
seems like a great guy.”
“Don't start that again, Killian. I told you, he's just being nice. It's part of his job. You know, visit the less fortunate and all that.”
“What if it's more than that? You can't hold onto this forever. Aidan gone, he would have wanted you to keep living your life.”
“Can we drop this please?” he said. He handed me two of the glasses and gave me a gentle shove towards the living room. He followed with the third glass.
I talked Asher into letting me have a turn holding the baby as Will brought us up to date on Darin's progress. It seemed he was starting to smile when he heard Will's or his mom's voice and he loved Veggie Tales. I'd never been around babies so this didn't sound like much of an achievement to me, but
Will
seemed convinced he was raising the next Einstein so I tried to look suitably impressed. He was certainly a beautiful baby. He had inherited his parents' fair hair and blue eyes. I couldn't help but think as I looked into his tiny face that I hoped that was all he inherited from his biological parents.
Soon it was time to go, so I handed
Darin
back to Will, we said our goodbyes, and we made our exit. We didn't talk much on the way home; I drifted in and out of that semi-hypnotic state that's so easy to fall into on a warm day in the car-not quite sleep but close to it. I arrived home to find an empty house. I called everyone's name a few times and, getting no answer, went up to my room with a shrug.
I decided to write down as many details as I could remember from my interview with Caleb while it was still relatively fresh on my mind. I took out the notes I'd scribbled while there and used them when my memory stuck. I tried to accurately record his answers to my fumbled questions, including his expressions and tone (or lack thereof). I also included my impressions, whatever they were worth.
I had just finished writing when I heard the front door open. “Hello?” Steve called out, “Anyone home?”
“I'm up here,” I yelled. “I'll be right down.”
“Hey, Kill,” he said as I trotted down the stairs, “Feel up to driving to
Chicone
with me?”
“What for?”
I asked.
“I just came from seeing
I didn't. I'd forgotten that Adam was driving Kane up to his mother's today. Adam was coming right back but Kane would be staying for a few weeks. That meant my options were staying home alone or going with Steve to the haunted house-tough choice. It was times like this that I realized how much it sucked to be single.
“I guess I'll go with you.”
“Don't sound so excited, sport.”
“I'll try to contain myself,” I said dryly. “I mean, who wouldn't be thrilled to spend some time in the Addams' family mansion? Scooby
Doo
where are you?”
Steve laughed and gave me a playful shove towards the door. “Let's get going, Shaggy.”
“If I'm Shaggy, does that make you Fred?”
The drive up to
Chicone
was filled with a constant stream of chatter about color swaths, fabric samples, paint combinations, security concerns, licenses, promotional plans, and landscaping. Needless to say, Steve did most of the talking.
By the time we arrived in
Chicone
, the morning mugginess had become oppressive as heavy dark clouds descended in a gathering darkness. The wind picked up, and as we climbed out of the car I thought I heard a distant rumble of thunder.
Perfect weather for visiting a haunted house.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” I mumbled under my breath.
“What did you say?” Steve asked.
“Nothing,” I said as I followed him to the front door. Steve pulled a red plastic key ring out of his pocket and unlocked the heavy, wood-paneled door. We stepped into the foyer and I made sure I carefully closed the door.
Might as well spare
Amalie
the trouble
, I thought darkly.
“It's incredible, isn't it?” Steve said sounding like a kid on
Chris
tmas morning.
I had to admit, the entrance was quite spectacular. All paneled walls and hardwood floors, dusty now, but it was easy to picture what it would look like polished and sparkling, with soft rainbow colors cast across the floor from the stained-glass transom above the door. This room alone was almost as big as our entire living room where we lived now. I leaned back against the door and allowed my mind's eye to take me back to what it must have looked like when
Amalie
first stepped through this very door. What did she think when she saw the splendor and elegance? Was she used to such extravagance or was she as impressed as I felt?
My ruminations were interrupted by a sudden rapping on the door that sent vibrations through my whole body. I leaped away with a yelp, thoughts of
Amalie
filling my fertile imagination. Steve gave me a funny look. “That's probably the contractor,” he said. I got the impression that he was trying to suppress a smile.
He opened the door to reveal a very ordinary, and very alive, middle-aged man wearing paint stained jeans and a denim work shirt. A tape-measure was clipped to his belt and he wore heavy work boots. He held out a rough hand with a friendly smile.
“I'm Reid
Schubel
, you must be Mr. Redden.”
“Please, call me Steve. It's nice to meet you, Reid. This is Killian Kendall.”
Introductions out of the way, Steve took Reid on a quick tour of the house. The whole time they kept up a steady stream of technical talk that wafted somewhere slightly above my head, or at least beyond my interest level. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't dredge up any concern over lead-paint tests, wiring checks, plumbing checks and structural integrity. I was beginning to think that staying home alone would have been a better choice. When they went off to inspect the roof I decided to poke around
Amalie's
old room, the one that had been used for storage.
The electricity hadn't been turned on for the old house, and Reid had recommended rewiring anyway, so the room was dark and musty. The only light I had was what managed to filter in through the streaked
windows; which wasn't
much considering their dirty state and the premature darkness outside.
With my limited knowledge of antiques, mostly gleaned from watching Antiques
Roadshow
on PBS, I didn't see any great treasures right away. It seemed most of the items were detritus of the various generations spanning the century and a half the house had stood here. I guessed that each occupant had left their own contribution. There was a broken phonograph from the early 20
th
Century, a couple mismatched chairs,
an old wicker basinet that had begun to deteriorate, several ugly lamps from the 60's
, and that was just what was in the front. As I pushed farther back things got older and looked to me to be much better antiques. There was a beautiful wooden bed with a carved headboard and next to it a dusty armchair whose seat some rodent had used to make a nest. I wondered who had left them there and why. I was pretty sure the chair could be reupholstered and it would be quite nice.