Edward Unconditionally Common Powers 3 (16 page)

Either way, he'd know for sure on Wednesday.

For now, Brian made a note to keep his eyes peeled for the little red Miata while on patrol.

Flipping open his cell phone, he searched for a number, found it, and hit Send.

“Hello,” his best friend answered.

“Mitchell? Did I catch you at a bad time?” Brian asked.

“No, I'm stuck in Houston rush-hour traffic. What's up?”

Brian laughed, not missing the Houston grind one bit and glad he'd decided to leave it behind him and make a new life with Rush here in Spring Lake.

“Rush and I are going to have a barbecue on Wednesday for some friends here in Spring Lake. Wondered if you and Sammi wanted to come out and spend a few days at the ranch. I know it's the middle of the week, and if you guys can't get away, I understand.” Rush had started this dinner thing for Edward, and Brian figured what the hell, might as well make it a real party. He couldn't think of two better people to have over than his best friend Mitchell and his life partner, Sammi.

“Hey, that sounds great. We could use some time away. Sammi's been hitting the books hard for the GED test, and he's strung so tight he might snap.” Mitchell chuckled. “It's driving me nuts. He just won't relax.”

“Well, he can relax out here. He could even bring his books and study, if he wants.”

“No way. A chance to have Sammi without those books? I'd kill to get him to think about me for a change.”

“He's focused on his goals, and that's good, man. I can't believe you're so jealous.”

“I'm not jealous.”

Brian snorted.

“Okay, a little. He wants it so bad, and if he's going to get into college, he has to pass this test. I know it's important. It's just that he's so tired between working at the grill and studying that we haven't really, you know... ” Mitchell knew he could talk to Brian about anything, even his sex life. In the past, they'd dissected every date either of them ever had, given each other advice, and been there through the death of Mitchell's previous partner, a man Brian had secretly loved.

“Haven't been having sex?”

“Yeah.” Mitchell exhaled.

“That sucks.”

“I wish it did. Or he did.” Mitchell groaned. “I'm dying here, buddy.”

“Sounds like you need some time away too. You know, you're both welcome here anytime you need to get away. Rush might put you to work on the ranch, but it's a chance you'll have to take.”

“Listen, some good hard physical labor might be what I need to take the edge off. You can count on us for sure.”

“Great. Come out in the early afternoon; we need to talk.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, I just need your advice. I think Rush and I might be interfering with someone's life.” That was an understatement. Bringing Jack and Edward together after such a huge blowup might not be the best idea, but some things needed to be forced.

“Trying to help someone find their way?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“You think Sammi's powers might help?” Sammi could read the thoughts of others, a handy power if you're going to have one. It was Sammi's power that had brought Mitchell and Sammi together, forging a soul bond between them that even Sammi's past as a sex slave couldn't destroy.

“They might. He might be able get a read on these guys. Clear things up, at least. If that's okay with him?”

“I'll ask, but I'm sure he won't mind. You can count on me.”

“I always have. See you.” Brian hung up.

He'd reached his patrol car, his hand on the handle, when the feeling hit him. He hadn't had a premonition in a long time, but this one was strong, just like all the others he'd ever had in his life. And just like all the others, Brian knew it would come true.

Edward would need him soon. Before the end of the week. Something bad was going to happen. A chill raced down Brian's spine. He shook it off, got in his vehicle, and pulled out of the parking lot to finish his patrol.

After Edward walked Winston in the grass verge on the other side of the hotel parking lot, he put a bowl of dog food down, and filled another bowl with water. Then he turned on the TV and found the home renovation network, his and Winston's favorite.

With the sounds of the television and the cool air running, Winston would be fine until Edward got back. As he left the room, he placed the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door handle so the maid wouldn't bother Winston.

Then he hopped in the Miata, pulled out of his spot, and headed to Olivia's. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he was satisfied with his appearance. He'd needed forty-five minutes, not thirty, to take the swelling down around his eyes, but now there was no evidence that he'd cried his eyes out like a heartbroken teenager over Jack.

Jack stared at the door for a long time after Brian left. Thank God, the man had knocked and given Jack a moment to pull himself together. Only sheer willpower had kept his hands from shaking.

Now they shook like a junkie needing a fix.

Jack willed them still. He willed his heart to stop its yearning. He willed his brain to turn the fuck off and leave him alone.

Because there was no way it could ever work. Not in Jack's life. Not here in Hooterville. Not if Jack wanted to stay chief of police.

But Rush and Brian were together, and no one thought any less of them. Rush was still a respected member of the community. Brian, a respected officer of the law.

But Rush and Brian weren't like Edward. They were big men. Manly. Men who could kick your ass if you got out of line or had the balls to shoot off your mouth about them to their face. No one would look at them and think “fag.”

Edward, on the other hand, screamed “fag” from the rooftops while waving a big rainbow flag. No one could doubt his sexual orientation. His body was lithe, his facial features delicate, more beautiful than some women Jack had seen, and... Shit. Why did Edward have to be
so
gay?

Yet those were the very things that attracted Jack.

If Jack had any type of relationship... Shit, had he just used the
R
word? Jack's mind rewound and began again. If he hung out with Edward around here, tongues would wag, and Jack would be labeled “fag” right along with him. The good folk of Spring Lake might not say it to his face, but they'd snicker behind their hands and behind Jack's back. He'd lose their respect and become an object of derision.

Guilt by association.

Only in Jack's case it'd be truth by association.

Either way, it spelled the end of his career and the life he'd worked so hard to build here. So far from that run-down trailer, the hard fists of his drunkard daddy and the abusive put-downs of his mother.

This was just like all those years ago when he had to make a choice about his own survival. Stay with his family, or save himself and cut them out of his life. He'd chosen himself and saved the only person he had the power to save at the time.

Now, it was Edward or him.

Jack chose himself.

Really, there wasn't any other choice.

Holding his breath, afraid of what he might find on the other side of the door, Edward put his key in the lock and went inside.

“Meemaw, I'm back.”

“In the kitchen, honey.” Her voice sounded good and strong. He exhaled and let go of the fear he'd find her ill again. His heart just couldn't take that, not today.

“Are you ready to go to lunch?” He stepped into the kitchen and froze.

Olivia was putting a thermos into a large picnic basket.

“What's all this?” he asked.

“I thought we'd do something special. I want to take you to the old ranch. We're going to have a picnic.” She smiled up at him.

“That's wonderful! I haven't been on a picnic in ages.” He beamed at her. He just barely remembered going once or twice to the ranch as a young child. The horses had seemed so huge to him, all thick lips and big teeth. The cows so small, dotting the wide fields they'd clustered on. “Is it still a working ranch?”

“Yes, if you count the pumping jacks and gas compressors.”

“Pumping jacks?” Jacks? Jackrabbits? Jumping jacks? He had no idea what she was talking about, and it must have shown, because she laughed.

“Oil and gas wells. But the old homestead is still there and in good condition. I keep it maintained. The power's been shut off out there for almost fifteen years. Nowadays, I go there sometimes for some peace and quiet. It has a working well, though, so there's fresh water, if you wanted to work the pump.” She chuckled and pointed to the thermos. “But I thought we'd enjoy some fresh-squeezed lemonade.”

Edward came over to the table and inspected the basket. “What else have you got in there?”

“Just some sandwiches, some fruit, and a slice or two of cake I made this morning.” She winked at him.

“Cake?” Dear Lord, please let it be chocolate, because he could sure use some right now.

“Chocolate.” She winked.

“Thank God.” He sighed.

She laughed. “I figured chocolate can cure what ails a body.” She gave him a piercing look.

“Chocolate can never be a wrong choice, in my opinion.” He nodded, avoiding her gaze.

“Then let's go!” She slapped the lid closed, and Edward carried the basket to the door. “Wait.” She opened a closet door, pulled out a folded quilt, and then motioned for him to go on.

At the car, she put the quilt in the backseat, and he put the basket on top of it to hold it down.

“I hope you don't mind that the top's down?” he asked as he settled her into the car.

“I was counting on it.” She grinned. “And I hope you plan on driving fast.”

“Meemaw!” He chuckled. “You're a bad influence, you know that?”

“I like that, Edward. I want that on my headstone.
She was a bad influence
. Then she laughed and he laughed, and they pulled away from the house.

Jack glanced at his watch. Two o'clock and he hadn't had lunch. He couldn't have eaten before anyway. He walked to the door, opened it, and leaned out. “Kristen?”

“Yes, Chief?” She looked up at him.

“Can you order me a lunch from the diner? Whatever the daily special is will be fine.”

“Sure. Working through?” She had that look in her eyes, the one that mothers reserved for wayward children.

“I want to get out of here early today. I'm going fishing.” He ducked back in his office before she could launch into a round of questions.

Fishing sounded good. He hadn't been thinking about it, but when she asked, it was the first thing that came to his mind. Sure. He'd get his pole and go down to the creek, toss a line in, and just sit. Maybe kill a beer or two. Watch the sun go down.

Not think about Edward.

He ground his teeth and went back to work. If he got this done by four, he could be at the creek by five.

Edward turned off the road onto a gravel and dirt... well, it was nothing more than two ruts... and came to a gate.

“I'll hop out and get it,” she said, her hand on the door.

“No way. I'll get it.” He got out and approached the gate. It was almost shoulder high on him, four thick metal posts crisscrossed, with some kind of latch.

“Just push down, it'll lift and unlock,” she called to him.

He did, and it swung open without any help from him. He trotted back to the car, got in, and pulled through. “Should I shut it?”

“Better. I let John Macon graze his herd here, so best keep it shut so they don't get out.”

He got out and shut the gate. “Now where?” he said as he got behind the steering wheel.

“Just up the road, over that rise.” She pointed, and he took off.

The car bumped and jolted over the rut. As the undercarriage of the little car occasionally scraped the ground, he could understand why everyone around here drove those god-awful pickup trucks.

They made the crest of the rolling hill, and Edward stopped the car. It was like a picture postcard. Across a small green valley between the hills sat a white cottage. Well, ranch house, he supposed was the proper term. It had a porch that wrapped all the way around it from what he could see.

Surrounding it were a half a dozen majestic oak trees, as fine as any he'd seen anywhere in the South. All they were missing was the Spanish moss blowing in the breeze. Set to the side and behind the house was an old barn, its white paint worn and faded.

“It's perfect, Meemaw,” he whispered. “Just the way I remember it.”

She smiled and touched his leg. “I'm glad you remember, child.”

He started the car down the hill and followed the road up the front yard.

The house was bordered by a variety of bushes, oleander, camellia, roses. Some bloomed, others had spent flowers, but all looked healthy and vigorous.

“Where do you want to spread the blanket?” he asked as they parked and got out.

“Over there. Under that tree.” She headed for it, and Edward followed with the basket.

As she spread the blanket, he looked around. “I can see why you come here.” It was lovely, and quiet and... home. He'd never been anywhere that felt so much like home, certainly not his parent's house, and not even his high-rise condominium.

Edward's heart eased.

He put down the basket on a corner of the quilt and sat. Olivia was already pulling off her socks, her shoes already tossed to the side. “Come on, Edward. Get comfy.”

He toed off his running shoes, slipped off his socks, and put them next to hers; then he just lay back, his arms behind his head, and looked up through the long, thick branches of the tree.

“I'll bet I can climb it.” He smiled.

“You used to when you were nothing but a tiny thing. One time your dad had to go up there after you. You'd gotten up so high, and it wasn't until you looked down that you got scared.” She chuckled. “He was so mad at you.”

“His perpetual state.” Edward snorted.

“But I'd never seen him prouder, child.” She lay back next to him, gazing through the branches. “He just kept shaking his head and muttering, ‘Why, I never. Look how high he got. Why, I never.'”

Edward's heart caught, and he swallowed. “My father was proud of me?” Even if it was only for climbing a tree, it was better than nothing.