Page 24 of Santa of the Creek
“Dean never talks about it, to anyone. Except maybe his brother.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to remember a bad time in his life.” I feel uncomfortable at having this discussion about the man when he’s not here.
“You could be right. It’s hard to talk about the death of a loved one.”
“Wait! What?”
Ariel pokes her tiny head around the door as if she wants to check I’m all right. She jumps up onto the bed with a chirrup.
Hebe nods as if she’s agreeing with my exclamation. “I never met Marty of course; it was before I moved here. But I heard he was a nice boy and devoted to Dean. His parents moved away after the accident. They couldn’t take the strain of living in Collier’s Creek.”
“Dean had a boyfriend?” I manage.
Shocked, I flop back onto the pillows, biting back a cry as it jogs my ankle. No way! The guy with the locked and bolted closet had a boyfriend?
“Yes, of course.” Aunt Hebe furrows her brow. “Didn’t he tell you that?”
“He told me he’d been in an accident at Christmas. He never mentioned a boyfriend. Is that why everyone knows he’s gay?”
“I think it’s kind of an open secret among the residents who’ve been here a while. No one talks about Marty, especially not to Dean. He’s kind of fragile, you know?”
No, I didn’t know. But I do now. I need time to process the conversation because it explains a lot but opens so many questions.
“I’ve got to go, Aunt Hebe.”
She gives me a knowing look. “You know where I am if you want to talk to me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He needs a friend.”
“He has friends,” I protest.
“Not really. Most people walk on eggshells around him. Maybe be there for him like he was for you last night.”
Then she was gone, leaving me stunned, staring up at the ceiling, and not sure what to think.
A minute later there’s a ping.
Dean’s cell number.
Another ping.
I think I just got volunteered.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve at least shifted my butt—and one leg—onto the couch with a steaming cup of coffee on the table. Ariel jumps onto my lap, circles around a couple of times, kneads my thighs and settles down.
My brain hasn’t stopped racing since my call with Aunt Hebe. My heart aches for Dean, losing a lover so young. But part of me wonders why he’s never gotten over it, never found love again. Collier’s Creek is full of people desperate to matchmake.
If I’ve heard the tale of Sheriff Morgan and Deputy Ben once, I’d heard it a dozen times. It’s a Hallmark story that will never be made. I think the age gap thing is an issue for some. But not in Collier’s Creek. I once heard an out-of-towner make a crack about the deputy’s daddy issues in the bar. I swear Geraldine was ready to set Barky on him. Barky would have done it too. He and the sheriff are tight. We’ve all seen the photos of them asleep on the sofa together, no matter how much the sheriff denies it.
I pick up my phone from beside me on the couch. I look at Dean’s number. I put my phone down.
I pick it up again. Finally I huff and tap the number.
“Hello?” He sounds wary.
“I’m not Gloria.” I grin at the relieved sigh in my ear.
