Page 32 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

With Evie strolling by his side, Thomas leads them into Sherman Park on a perfect spring day.

Since Robert’s passing, he’s grown even closer to Evie.

He generally prefers the company of women, and their friendship is something he nurtures and protects.

Perhaps some of that is due to Evie being Charlie’s sister, but mostly it’s because he feels so himself around her.

Relaxed. Less serious, a little softer even.

Of course, there is that one part of himself that he must keep hidden, but that distance exists with every person in his life save for Charlie.

Occasionally, he and Charlie will still go to the club where they first met and enjoy the thrill and freedom of kissing and dancing in front of others like them, but mostly they don’t bother anymore.

It doesn’t feel worth the risk of a police raid or someone recognizing them now that they can spend evenings together at home, safe behind a locked door.

Maybe he and Charlie should cultivate more friendships with other homosexuals, but for now, this friendship with Evie holds a special place in his heart.

“What about here?” Evie says, motioning to a lush section of grass under the shade of a large oak tree.

“Perfect. Would you like to eat first, or shall we read a little?”

Evie spreads the picnic blanket out while Thomas sets the basket down.

“Let’s read a little first.”

Thomas chuckles to himself. This has become something they share—the joy of books.

Evie hadn’t read too many when they first met, but she was always interested in whatever novel he had on the go, asking questions about the plot and demanding he describe the various characters.

Eventually, he just started reading them aloud to her.

Currently, they are halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

Thomas has, of course, read it before, and while he struggles not to give the ending away, he also delights in listening to Evie’s theories about who the murderer is.

He reads for almost thirty minutes before his stomach grumbles so loudly Evie can hear it. She giggles. “Okay, okay, stop. Let’s eat before you starve to death.”

Evie opens the picnic basket and starts laying out sandwiches, fruit, cakes, and cookies.

“Oh, Evie, this looks amazing. Your future husband is one lucky man.”

“That’s if I ever get married,” Evie huffs. “If Richard doesn’t propose soon, people are gonna start calling me a spinster.”

Thomas laughs. “You’re only twenty-two! Besides, Richard would be a real twit not to propose to you. He must know you’ll be snapped right up by someone else if he doesn’t.”

Evie blushes as she puts a selection of sandwiches on a plate for him and he takes them with thanks.

“Well, maybe Richard is a stupid twit. But enough about me. When are you going to settle down, hmm?” Evie tilts her head in question. “Or at least find a nice girl to go steady with.”

Thomas chews slowly on his cucumber sandwich, trying to buy himself some extra time while he thinks of an answer. “Right now, I just want to focus on teaching and building my career. That way when I meet the right girl, I’ll be ready to settle down and be able to provide for her.”

“I think you’ll make a great husband and father, Tom. How many children do you want?”

He looks down, studying his sandwich with far too much interest. This is perhaps the hardest part of being a homosexual.

The only thing he still really grapples with.

When he was younger, even before he knew for sure what he was, he always imagined himself as a father with three, even four children.

He wanted to be the sort of father he wished he’d had.

But there’s no chance of that now. Not that he’d give up his love for Charlie for anything, or anyone.

Swallowing hard, he finally replies, “I guess I’d like to have three or four. Two boys and two girls. What about you?”

Evie sighs wistfully. “I think I’d be happy with two. Two boys, two girls, or one of each. I don’t mind.”

“You’ll make a great mother, Evie. They’ll be the luckiest children in the world.”

They eat quietly for a while, then Thomas asks, “Does Richard mind that we spend time together? He understands that we’re only friends, right?”

Evie throws her head back, laughing. “I don’t tell him. And who cares if he minds. Just because it’s a bit unusual for a man and a woman to be friends, doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It shouldn’t stop us, should it?”

Thomas just smiles, nodding his agreement. He’s so grateful that meeting Charlie brought someone else so kind and open into his life, too, and he wonders, not for the first time, how Evie would react if she knew the truth about him and her brother, if she could be trusted.

After they’ve packed up the picnic basket, Thomas lies down on his back and closes his eyes, the sun filtering through the oak leaves warm on his face.

“Do you miss your father?” he asks softly.

He doesn’t know why he says it, but these feelings of guilt creep up on him at times, and he wonders if he did wrong by not trying to save Robert, by not running for help.

But such feelings stir up a deep conflict in him, and it feels like he’s betraying Charlie even to have them.

He’s glad Robert is dead and can’t hurt Charlie anymore, but he was still complicit in a man’s death—wasn’t he?

And Evie lost her father because of it too.

“No,” Evie says flatly. “He barely even knew I was there when we were growing up.”

Thomas opens his eyes and looks up at Evie’s sharp face. She sits with her legs tucked under her and her blue eyes staring off into the distance, her gaze unfocused.

“And that was a good thing, wasn’t it?” she muses, turning to look down at Thomas.

He waits patiently for her to continue. “I guess Charlie’s told you what he was like, but probably not all of it.

He used to beat my mom whenever he was drunk.

Which was most of the time. He loved Donnie—praised him, treated him like he was special.

But Charlie . . .” she sighs. “It didn’t seem to matter what Charlie did, it was never good enough for Pops.

And me? He ignored me completely. I think he hated girls, Tom. Hated women. That’s what I think.”

Evie lies down next to Thomas, unbothered about her skirt becoming creased or getting grass in her hair.

They remain quiet for a while, and Thomas thinks about what she’s said—that Robert hated women—and his pulse quickens.

Does Evie understand what she’s saying? Did Robert instinctually hate Charlie, even as a young child, because he was too .

. . girlish? Because he thought he was like a woman?

“You don’t talk about your father very much, Tom. What’s he like?”

Evie turns her head, and he can feel her eyes upon him, but he keeps looking up at the thick canopy of leaves.

“When I was growing up, he was never really there. I guess he was when I was really young, but when my . . .” Thomas doesn’t finish his thought.

He still can’t bring himself to talk about his mother, the hurt and guilt too much.

“He’s like your father—drinks too much. He’d hang around for a few weeks, bumming at the house, passing out in the backyard in the dead of winter.

Then he’d go missing for a day or two. Never held down a job for longer than a few paychecks.

Bridget was the closest thing I had to a parent.

I think that’s why she’s so hard now. She had to grow up too young. I love my dad, but . . .”

“It’s hard to forgive, isn’t it?”

Thomas finally turns to look at Evie lying beside him. Her eyes are sad, but there is understanding there too. He gives her a faint smile. “It is.”

“Will you read me some more before we go?”

“Of course.”

Thomas sits up and grabs the book. He settles against the oak’s sturdy trunk, letting Evie rest her head on his lap, and they while away the afternoon helping Detective Poirot solve a murder.