Page 76 of Love in Mission City
“Hey, Clay.”
A low, husky voice caught my attention. I pivoted to find Henry standing at my table and smiling. That little shy smile I adored so much. I’d met him at the Summer Farmer’s Market when I’d scoped out the lay of the land.
Henry made the most exquisite fairy glass figurines. His pride collection ones were his bestsellers, although he did well with all his designs. Such delicate wonders from such a big, brawny guy.
“Hey yourself. Where are you set up?”
He pointed to the next row over.
I shoved down my disappointment. I’d hoped he would be closer.
“I’m in a booth next to Johnson.” His cheeks reddened just a bit. “Had to ask, especially because the organizers didn’t exactly think cider and apples belonged next to glass fairies.”
“True.” I grinned. “But the maker of said figurines should be next to his husband. The maker of cider.” I added that unnecessarily.
The men had quietly tied the knot just a short time ago. Henry’s coloring was similar to mine—with ginger hair. While my eyes were blue, his were green.
His beard, flecked with gray, spoke of years of living whereas I, on the other hand, couldn’t produce any substantial facial hair to save my life. At twenty-two, I kept hoping I had another growth spurt coming.
I wasn’t holding my breath. “It’s great you and Johnson are next to each other. Too bad you had to leave Zeus at home.”
Henry’s face fell. “He’s such a great dog. But not today. He’ll get plenty of treats when we get home.”
Their pampered pooch likely would.
I’d visited the orchard last year, before the men found each other. I’d found Johnson, with his dark-brown hair and soft-brown eyes, attractive. At the time, I’d been checking out how various products made here in Cedar Valley, and Mission City in particular, might pair with my pumpkin spice. I hadn’t given up on talking this couple into adding a jar or two of mine to their table. Cider went well with everything. Why not pumpkin spice?
Probably too much of a stretch. I’d solidified a friendship with Johnson and now considered him a friend, along with Henry. I gave the tall, shy man a pat on the arm. “I’m glad to see you.”
He ducked his head. “Yeah, I’m not always a fan of these things, but I like spending time seeing people I know. Oh, and Johnson suggested I might watch your table for you if you need a break because he can watch mine. So it’s a good thing we’re next to each other.”
Touched, I pressed a hand to my heart. “That’s a lovely offer. You know, Tate made the same one.”
Henry’s face fell.
“And I’ll take you both up on it,” I quickly added. “I appreciate all the help from my friends.”
His smile returned.
He’s a gentle, sensitive soul. Careful about what you say.I’d meant to thank him and had bungled it instead.
The sound of a shrill whistle hit my ears.
Henry met my gaze, and his grin widened. “Good luck. They’re going to love your product. I’ll tell everyone.” Then he was gone.
Theybeing the masses of people teeming in the already-crowded space.
I’d been coming to the farmer’s markets for as long as I could remember. Mom loved buying all the treasures and, when I wasold enough, I wound up carrying the cloth bags full of goodies home.
As I polished the pumpkins I’d bought from Wyatt and Tate, I smiled. As much to myself as to the customers passing by. Growing up, I hadn’t met a lot ofoutkids in Mission City. Our town, and the one across the river to the south of us, were known as the bible belt of Cedar Valley.
Unfortunately, not all citizens were accepting and understanding.
Still, I’d worn my rainbow bracelet every day I’d attended university in Abbotsford. I’d gotten that bracelet when my mom had taken me to my first Pride Day in Vancouver almost ten years ago.
She’d known even before I’d been able to say the words. So we’d gone. She’d shown me what it meant to be loved for who I was, and we’d pretty much continued on as such.
I was out to her as well as to a couple of good friends.
