Bowl Full of Cherries (18 page)

They’d just broken the kiss when the driver’s and passenger’s side doors flew open and Sondra and Tyler leaped into the SUV, laughing like crazy people.

“Are you guys all right?” Crowley asked, pulling out of the warmth of Rell’s hold to lean between the seats. “What happened? Did someone throw a punch or…? Why are you wet?”

Both of them were soaked through, head to toe. Water had turned Sondra’s straw-blonde hair a muddy color and droplets clung to the ends of Tyler’s now mussed hair.

“Snowball fight,” he said, starting the car. “It was insane. Patrick turned on us and started pelting us with snowballs, and then everyone was against everyone and there was no cover and no sides.” He whistled happily as he said this. “It was
insane
.”

“Who’s Patrick?” Rell asked, and Tyler looked up at his brother in the rearview mirror.

“Lead singer of Emporium?”

“Didn’t realize you were on first name basis.”

“Oh yeah,” Tyler said. “After I could get out of the line of fire, I made my way over to him and told him I’d help protect him. He’s a cool guy. Gave me his number. Not his regular one, but the one he gives to superfans. He’s going to text me a badge I can put up, too.”

“Oh my God,” Rell said. “You’ve tried to hide it for twenty-four years, but you, Tyler Lang, are a huge
nerd
.”

“Whatever. You can’t bring me down tonight, Rell.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it…
superfan
.”

T
HEY
WERE
late by about three minutes, but this was three minutes too many according to Rell’s mother. She took one look at them, still damp from snow, shoes grimy, not yet dressed for church, and she said with the sort of grave seriousness that scared the bravest of men, “You have
five minutes.
”

Sondra took the bathroom in Aunt Megs and CeCe’s room. Tyler, Crowley, and Rell crowded into the upstairs bathroom, grabbing washcloths and doing their best to sponge bath it. Combs raked through hair, a quick brushing of the teeth, changing out damp pants for clean ones, and somehow they made it back downstairs at her final countdown.

She surveyed them critically and then began pawing at Rell’s hair like a mother cat grooming her babies. He thought she was a second away from licking him. That would be a neat trick.

“It’s
fine
,” he grumbled.

“It’s not
fine
, it’s sticking up.”

“I really don’t think baby Jesus is going to care if my hair is sticking up.”

That got him a smack to the back of the head—albeit a light one. He rubbed at the imaginary bruise and looked around at his family. When it came time to try to figure out which combination of cars to take, that’s when Rell
really
understood just how many of them there were. Katie and her husband and their baby, Jes and her husband and their three kids, Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Megs and CeCe, Mom, Tyler, Sondra, Rell, and Crowley. Sixteen and a half people to fit in any combination of their cars.

Except Katie didn’t want to drive and Grandpa
couldn’t
drive while Jes insisted on driving, except not Katie, because they were having another spat. Tyler offered to take Mom’s car and transport all the twentysomethings, but then Jes’s kids wanted to ride along and there wasn’t enough room. Grandma had taken a shine to her daughter’s “friend,” asking, much to the poor woman’s barely contained frustration, if she thought that growing her hair out might help her “land a husband.” And in the middle of it all was Rell’s mother, trying to keep everyone from fighting. All she wanted was to get her family to Christmas Eve service and back without anyone dying.

“I’m more than willing to stay home,” Rell said unhelpfully. This was immediately followed by Tyler’s ass-kissing.

“He’s a heathen, Mother.”

Rell rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, ’cause you’re such a believer.”

“You’re going, Averell. It isn’t as if I force you to go to church all that often. You can give an hour of your time to the Lord.”

In the end, they took four cars—Rell riding with his mother and his grandparents so that the kids could all squeeze in with Tyler.

Rell wasn’t really a heathen…
so much
. He just didn’t get to church as often as his mother might have liked. He and Jesus hadn’t had any big fallings out; they didn’t come to blows, nothing like that. The man in the sandals was a pretty okay guy and he had a lot of things to say about treating people well. It was just some of his followers that pissed Rell off.

So going to candlelight service at church wasn’t a big deal. Even getting half a million hugs from the little old ladies that had seen him grow up was okay.

He watched Crowley who smiled awkwardly as people approached him, warmly welcoming him.

Crowley looked at Rell and then quickly looked away. He knew his brother’s friend was embarrassed, he just didn’t know how to make it better. God he wanted it to be better.

The sanctuary had been decorated with poinsettias leading up the steps where they held the children’s time, two Christmas trees decorated in delicate scrolled-paper ornaments, wreaths and felt banners that said
Joy to the World
, and of course, the advent candle that sat next to the pulpit.

Rell took his seat at the far end of the pew, right underneath one of the stained glass windows. He wanted to sit next to Crowley, sneak handholding in while he listened to the story of Jesus’s birth
again
. But Sondra plopped down right next to him, and then Tyler next to her, and Crowley sat on the end of the pew, chatting quietly with the hipster.

There was something about Christmas Eve service that he found pleasant. Maybe it was the songs. He loved Christmas carols, even when they weren’t being sung by Cupcakes & Heartbreaks or Dogprint Sushi. He loved the rise of voices, singing in unison. He loved the familiarity of the songs. He didn’t need the hymnal. He knew them all by heart.

And even the nativity of Jesus was its own rite of passage. He watched his nephews and niece as they fidgeted in the pew, knew what they were thinking, because he could remember thinking it as well. They thought candlelight service was the longest, most boring torture ever and they couldn’t wait to get home, couldn’t wait to open their first present of the season. And
jeez
, how long was this story? Was the preacher going to read the whole Bible? That’s what was going through their heads.

It made Rell smile.

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” The preacher had a good reading voice, not like the last preacher who’d always sounded uncertain, despite his age and all the years he’d spent leading the congregation.

Andy shoved Jack, who shoved him back. Jes’s head snapped toward them and both boys went ramrod stiff.

In the break of passages, Rell heard a phone buzzing, and thinking it was his, he quickly patted down his dress pants. But no, not his phone. Sondra cut her eyes over to Tyler, who was looking at Crowley, who, with
very
red cheeks, pulled his phone out of his pocket. His eyes went wide at whatever was on the screen, and he stood and practically fled the sanctuary. Rell didn’t even realize he was standing until he was halfway on top of his brother, trying to climb out of the pew.

“Where are you going, jackanapes?” Tyler hissed.

“Crowley” was all he managed before he moved away from Tyler’s clawing hands.

He walk-ran down the aisle, hunched over as if somehow that hid him from the disapproving stare of the pastor. Poor Mom. She finally got all the Lang children into church again, and now he was escaping, crouched low to the ground, like a commando.

He’d just shut the heavy wooden sanctuary door back when he heard Crowley.

“Mom?” Crowley’s voice shook as he answered the phone.

He didn’t seem to see Rell, and paced along the polished wood of the entryway. “Mom, I’m so glad you called, I wanted to—Oh. Oh… yes… okay. B—” He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked down at it, the light from the screen glowing on his face. “Bye.” The whispered word was haunting.

“Owl?”

Crowley turned, blinking away the last of his tears. In the dim light of the entryway, Crowley looked even more sad and beautiful. The sound of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” surrounded them. A hundred voices, singing in beautiful unison, the glow of the candles in the entryway the only light as his cell’s screen turned itself off. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward quickly, reaching out for Rell, who opened his arms and embraced him.

Crowley tilted his head and kissed Rell’s lips. And when the kiss broke, he laid his forehead against Rell’s.

“She said she had the wrong number.”

“Your mom?” Rell whispered.

“I thought she was calling to say she was sorry. I thought she was calling to…. But she said she had the wrong number.”

Rell’s blood chilled at the words. “She…?” He couldn’t imagine. Couldn’t imagine anyone being so cold, much less a parent. It made him sick to think about it. He gently traced his knuckles across Crowley’s cheek.

“Don’t tell your mom, Rell,” Crowley said darkly. “Please don’t tell your mom about us.”

“Owly, she’s not going to judge you. She’s not like—”

“Not for me, for
you
. Don’t you dare tell her about what we’ve been doing. We’ve only got two more days together and then I’ll be back in Avona and you’ll be here and there’s no reason for her to know right now.”

Rell’s heart thudded hard. “You’re saying don’t tell her because we’ve only got a few days left together?”

“No, I just—”

“This is kinda a big deal for me, Owl. I don’t care how short our time is. It
means
something to me.” Rell had thought they were on the same page. Sure, they hadn’t
said
it exactly, but what was happening between them—despite how suddenly it came about—meant something special. He didn’t know what was going to happen when their Christmas break was up, but he hadn’t thought it would mean the end.

Crowley’s dark brows came together and he looked stern, an expression Rell had never seen on the man’s face before. “It means something to me, too. You should know better than anyone that I don’t just randomly kiss guys.”

Rell’s lips quirked. He liked this stern, forceful Crowley. “Then don’t tell me I can’t tell Mom.”

“Why…?” Crowley’s voice gave out, and he had to swallow before he could speak again. “Why is it so easy for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and me? All of this? Coming out? Why are you so…?”

Rell shrugged, not sure what to say. He’d always been this way, chill about things, a roll-with-the-punches sort of guy. And right now, the “punch” (if you could call it that) was he and Crowley, moving swiftly closer. Why wouldn’t he tell his family, eventually? He wasn’t worried about them liking it or not liking it—they didn’t like a fourth of the things he did. Tyler was an asshole all the time. Jes and Katie had their own lives and their own families. And Mom? He figured Mom would “get it” and if she didn’t… they’d work through it together. They always had.

Apparently his shrug was the wrong answer because Crowley stiffened.

“You said it’s a big deal, but you’re so calm. You’d probably just stand up at dinner and tell your mom and your sisters and Tyler. And what would they think?” He walked across the wooden floor toward the door that led to the church’s small back patio. Crowley had crossed his arms over his chest.

“Wait a second. I’m obviously not saying the right thing. Do you want me to tell them or not tell them? I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Crowley said quietly. “Whatever you do, they’ll still love you.”

“You want them to be upset?” Rell asked, by that point completely lost. Cautiously he approached and reached out, grabbing Crowley’s shoulder, trying to turn him. His new friend held fast to his spot. When he wouldn’t move, Rell moved around to the side and froze. Silent tears ran down Crowley cheeks.

“Owl?” Crowley wouldn’t meet his eyes. “
Crowley
?”

“I’m sorry,” Crowley whispered. “I just want her to love me and be proud of me. I just want her to want me. Even though I’m n-not who she thought I was.”

Rell stroked Crowley’s hair gently back. It had become such a familiar action in such a short time. He loved the feel of each silky curl. Slowly Crowley turned toward him, stepping close, hiding his face in Rell’s shoulder.

“Your mother is wrong.” Rell knew it was dangerous territory, talking about someone else’s mother. He’d learned this when he was in middle school and James was raging about his own mom. Rell had said something smart like, “Yeah, she’s a total bitch,” and James had full-on decked him. His first black eye. He’d learned then that only a child had a right to make smartass comments about their parents and even if you were agreeing, it was best to watch yourself, unless you wanted a black eye. But Crowley’s mother? Crowley’s mother hadn’t grounded him for staying up too late playing video games like James’s had. Crowley’s mother had turned him away at Christmas, for being attracted to men. And even if it meant Crowley was going to punch him, Rell would make himself heard. “I’m sure your mother has her reasons. Definitely misguided, stupid reasons. In her head, she thinks she’s right. But she’s not. She’s not right, Owly.”