Page 10 of Viking Ink

“No… it’s not a problem, I promise.” Rhys fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking nervous. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course you can.”

“Did your dad hate you because of it? Being gay I mean?” There was something in his eyes that made me feel like this was an important question.

“Christ, no. Da was a little shocked, and some people around here were wankers about it, but Da was a bit of a local legend with his boxing career, and he made sure both Mitch and I knew how to fight well to defend ourselves, and he and Father McKellen started the youth club up. There was nowhere about these parts for LGBT kids to go and talk to people, somewhere safe. The club was for all the kids, but they also made sure kids who felt different, isolated, had somewhere to come.”

“Hang on, Father McKellan was okay with that? The LGBT kids?”

“You don’t know our pastor that well, do you lad?” I leaned back against the sink. Rhys shook his head. “I’ve known him since I was a teenager when he first moved to Sodden. He caused a bit of an uproar when he arrived with his little sports car and long hair. Not what the Women’s Auxiliary league had imagined for the church’s newest pastor.”

Rhys sat forward, listening intently. “He drove a sports car?” Rhys’s jaw dropped.

Simon could imagine Rhys’s confusion. These days Father McKellan looked very much the respected minister, with his neat silver hair and dapper grey beard—far from the hellraiser who had turned up in the unsuspecting town twenty years ago.

“He did—and he listened to rock music. He was an enigma when he came to town. My dad was never one to believe in religion, but he and Father Mac hit it off over their love of boxing and wanting to do something for the kids in the district. Mac and my dad were thick as thieves—they still are. So when I came out to my dad, well, Mac made sure to give a sermon on acceptance and love, and made it very clear he wouldn’t accept any homophobic comments in his parish. I suppose what I am saying is, for a god-botherer he’s a good man.”

Rhys nodded. “My family is very religious, and not in a good way,” he said softly. “My dad is”— He hugged Mr Ted harder “—my dad is not a good or kind man.” He looked up with damp eyes. “I always knew I was different. I think Mum did too. She tried to protect me, but Dad must have seen something. He was disgusted with me. When Mum died, it all changed. She wasn’t there to protect me anymore.”

I wondered if Rhys was saying what I thought he was saying, and part of me hoped he was. But I didn’t push. He’d share when he was ready. Instead, I said, “Mums are good at protecting us from the bad shit. Mine was a little tiger when her blood got up. She was short like Mitch, but with red hair like mine. Dad called her his firecracker.” I sighed. It had been a while since I’d thought of Mum.

“Is she still alive?” Rhys asked.

I shook my head. “No. She died in a car accident about nine years ago. She and Mitch were on the coast road between here and my dad’s farm. They were involved in a head on with a lorry. The truck driver was drunk. Mum passed at the scene, and Mitch was in hospital for a long time.” It wasn’t something I spoke about often, especially around Mitch. He carried enough demons in his head, and I knew he still blamed himself for what happened.

“I’m so sorry, Simon. I bet she’d be proud of you both if she saw you now.” Rhys wiped his face with his hands, sighing. “I like to hope mine would feel the same about me.”

“I would say, from what you’ve told me, your mum would be very proud of the man you are.” I moved to crouch down alongside him, and reached out and softly tugged Mr Ted’s arm. “You and Mr Ted are welcome to stay here as long as you need or want.”

Looking at Rhys sitting there, clutching his bear, my heart broke a little. What had this young man been through? I wanted to hug him and tell him he was safe—from what, I didn’t know. All I did know was this beautiful young man had already wormed his way into my heart and home.

Rhys looked up from his lap, his blue eyes filled with so much sadness. I desperately wanted to chase it away, make him laugh, make his eyes shine the way they did when he played his guitar. Looking at Mr Ted in his arms, I had an idea.

“Wait here. I want you to meet someone.”

I ran off to the spare room—now Rhys’s room, I hoped—and pulled down one of the larger boxes I’d packed away. Inside I found what I was looking for. Looking down at the bear dressed in a fisherman’s outfit I smiled. I’d bought it on a whim back when I still believed one day I would have a little to spoil. Like many of the things I had accumulated, the bear now resided in a box, along with the other toys that I’d planned on donating at some point. Dusting the bear off, I made sure there had been no damage to him.

I hoped Rhys would like him.

Walking back into the kitchen, I lingered at the door when I saw Rhys still sitting at the table. He was whispering to his bear.

“Do I tell him, Ted? I’ve never told anyone before. I’m scared, though. But Simon seems so nice. You’re right, Mr Ted. Got to learn to trust someone.”

My heart did a weird flip flop as I watched Rhys brush his face against the bear’s fur.

This sweet man.

Clearing my throat loud enough for Rhys to hear, I walked into the room, hiding my gift behind my back. I suddenly wondered if it was too much, or too strange to offer the bear to Rhys, until I saw his eyes light up with interest.

“What have you got behind your back, Simon?”

“Oh, just this.” I pulled the bear out in front of me, and Rhys’s eyes lit up. “He doesn’t have a name, but I thought you might like him. Company for Mr Ted when you’re not home.” I tried to keep my tone easy, but I was fucking nervous. What if Rhys thought I was a bloody idiot?

“Oh my god. He’s adorable,” Rhys whispered, hand already reaching out to touch the bear.

“He’s yours now. I know he’ll be better cared for than just being shoved in a box.” I watched as Rhys gently took the bear from my outstretched hand, his eyes shining with tears. Happy ones, I hoped.

“I can really keep him?” Rhys was gently brushing the bear’s fur, a soft smile playing across his face.

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