Page 151 of Hush
They got the keys from the post office and said hello to Mitch, the ancient postman who had been delivering the mail to the town and the surrounding warrens for decades. Tom remembered him as an old man when he was a child. Mitch didn’t believe that he was “the Brewers’ scrappy lil’ kiddo”, but gave him a giant hug and looked at him like a grandfather might look at his grown children. He spent ten minutes filling Tom in on the gossip of the town, happenings about people he barely remembered and would never recognize.
Mike, though, chimed in a few times. He remembered Rosa, and Old Jim Bailey, and Crazy Willy by the bend. He laughed when Mitch said Willy was the same old cuss he’d always been.
“Still doing business?”
Mitch peered at Mike. “Well, I dunno about all that. You know Willy, you can ask him yourself.”
“I will. Willy and I go back a bit.”
That seemed to satisfy Mitch, who wished them well and sent them on their way.
Either he hadn’t read the news about the trial in DC, or he didn’t care about such federal things. He made no mention of Tom being a judge, or the trial, or Russia, or anything else. He didn’t bat an eye at Mike, either, who Tom introduced as a “friend”.
Etta Mae sniffed the lot and did her business in a patch of grass and wild clover, and then wanted to follow her nose down a sloping ravine into a winding tributary off the main creek running through town. Her tail went crazy, and she locked her paws, practically pointing as she picked up the scent of a wild animal. Tom had to carry her back to the car.
Finally settled, Tom turned a bemused gaze to Mike. “You and Crazy Willy by the bend go way back? Myparents’ neighborWilly? Crazy Willy with the rattlesnakes?”
Mike grinned wide. “Those rattlesnakesaresomething else, huh?”
“They live in the gulch between his and my parents’ place.”
“It’s a small world after all.” Mike winked and backed out of the post office’s gravel parking lot as Tom groaned.
Tom’s parents’ place was a small log cabin built into the forest at the start of a long curve winding around the middle of the rising mountain. Spruce and pine surrounded the cabin on all sides, and a long gulch split the right side of the property. Bright signs and triangle placards warned of rattlesnakes in the gulch, timber rattlers that lived in the rocks and the gullies. They didn’t climb up and try and escape, and as long as no one went down there, the rattlers and people were just fine with each other. Years ago, Willy had bred timber rattlesnakes and kept them in the gulch, feeding them rats and mice and bragging about his herd. As a child, Tom had played on the left side of the cabin only.
A hill sloped to a gentle creek behind the cabin, a tributary off the main creek through town. Sycamores and poplars crowded the banks, mixing with tall river fronds and swaying grasses. At the end of the meandering creek, a golden meadow stretched to the edge of the next mountain that crowded in close to the town, as if both peaks were cupping Lonely Pine Gulch between them.
Mike carried their duffels in and took them both to the master bedroom as Tom opened the windows and started to air out the place. Etta Mae went crazy, following her nose over every inch of the cabin, the porch, and the yard. There were too many smells to smell, and her tail beat a small windstorm behind her. She stayed close, though, always whipping around and looking for Tom or Mike and staying within eyesight. She was, at her little adventurous Basset heart, kind of a wimp.
Crisp mountain air floated through the cabin, clean pine and riotous wildflowers, fresh water and mossy fern. He ended up on the back porch, built just above the creek, and watched the water tumble over ageless river rock. Mike followed, and he wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist and rested his chin on Tom’s shoulder.
“Can I ask you something?” Mike’s voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the forest, he might as well have shouted.
“You can ask me anything.”
“You said— You said you weren’t strong enough to stay with Pasha. And that you left him because of everything… because of what happened to you.”
Tom nodded, pressing back against Mike’s hold. He laced his fingers through Mike’s, holding his waist, one of his arms.
“What about now? Are you going to leave us because of what’s happening now? It’s… the same kind of thing. People are finding out—” Mike buried his face in Tom’s hair. “I need to know.”
Tom turned in Mike’s hold, his hands seeking Mike, grabbing his arms, his elbows, running up his biceps to his neck. He held Mike, tugging his face up until they were staring into each other’s eyes. There was fear in Mike’s gaze, naked, raw fear tangled with hope. And something else. Something that made Tom’s heart go wild.
“It’s different now. And I’m a different man than I was back then. Back then, I was just starting my life. I thought other things were more important than following my heart. Being who I was. I didn’t have any role models. There was no one I could look at and say ‘yes, that’s how it works. That’s what I’m going to do. I can be like that.’ I was petrified of myself more than anything else.” He smiled, and his thumbs brushed Mike’s cheeks, his gently-growing stubble. “You’ve shown me how to live, Mike. How to be truly alive.”
“I haven’t—”
“You did it just by being you. By being the gay man I’ve always needed to see. You’reeverything. You’re proud. You’re confident. You’re happy. You’re in control of your life. You are everything I ever dreamed of, in so many different ways.”
Mike swallowed slowly. Tom watched the fear in his eyes turn to a blaze, an inferno, as his jaw clenched hard. “What are you trying to say to me?”
“I’m saying that I want you. I wantthis.Us. A life with you. Even if that means I’m no longer a judge. That’s not the most important thing in my life. Not anymore.” Maybe he should go be a lawyer for “the gays and their organizations”, as his old professor had once said.
It was time to embrace himself, everything about himself, and stop running away.
He was still scared. Still terrified, actually. But it was worth it.
Surging, Mike captured his lips, a kiss that was all of Mike’s restrained longing, his desire, his fear, and his hope, mixed into one. His hands rose, cupping Tom’s face, and he moaned as they kissed, half sobs that made him tremble. “Tom…” Mike breathed. “Tom…” He started to say something, but kissed Tom again instead, holding him close, as close as he could.
