Page 60 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

Thomas looks out Evie’s kitchen window with a huge smile and happy tears prickling at his eyes.

It doesn’t matter how often he sees Charlie playing with Jonathan these days, his heart swells every time.

Charlie chases the bundled-up nineteen-month-old around the backyard, the toddler’s infectious giggles carrying into the house.

Even though he doesn’t want to, Thomas pries his eyes away to prepare a tray of milk and cookies.

Evie will probably scold him for giving Jonathan a snack so close to dinnertime, but he can’t help spoiling the little boy when he gets the chance.

Every Saturday afternoon they mind Jonathan while Evie takes a few hours to herself, and then afterwards they all sit down to dinner together.

It’s become one of Thomas’s favorite things.

There have been ups and downs the last five months, but the ups win out.

Thomas couldn’t be prouder of his husband.

Neither of them drinks anymore, although he hopes one day it might be okay on special occasions, if Charlie can rid himself of his ghosts.

But even if not, it’s a small price to pay, and Thomas is happy to pay it.

The nightmares are still prevalent, as are what Thomas now understands to be visions—memories that cause Charlie’s heart to beat too fast and his body to freeze up in panic.

But he’s worked out how to help Charlie through them by talking to him softly, keeping eye contact, and encouraging him to match his own breathing, deep and slow.

Most importantly, Charlie talks to him, which has brought them closer together than they’ve ever been.

Nearly losing each other was a humbling experience, and neither wants to relive anything like it.

Sometimes he wonders how they will explain themselves in a few years—two men still living together into their thirties, their forties—but for now, he pushes that aside.

Charlie’s arm has improved beyond measure, regaining a lot of its mobility and strength.

Now he can lift his arm to shoulder height and grip objects if they’re not too heavy, like his toothbrush and his fork.

And Thomas’s favorite—Charlie can now hold his hand, and stroke his cheek, and caress his body when they make love.

When he steps outside with the snacks, he finds Charlie laying on the hard ground while Jonathan jumps all over him. Thomas knows this game well. Soon Charlie will tickle Jonathan until he ends up with the hiccups.

“Come on, you two,” he calls, placing the tray on the porch table. The sun is out, and it’s nice enough to sit outside for a while longer.

Jonathan squeals, “Unc Tom, Unc Tom,” then climbs off Charlie and runs toward him.

“I’ve got your milk, Johnny. And you can have a cookie. But only one.”

“Me more!” Jonathan frowns, placing two tiny fists on his hips.

Thomas laughs, sitting and letting Jonathan climb onto his lap. “You are so much like your Uncle Charlie,” he says, helping Jonathan take a few sips of his milk.

“Poor kid.” Charlie smiles and takes a seat next to them, biting into a cookie.

“Lucky kid, I’d say.”

“You’re so good with him, sweetheart.” Charlie’s still smiling, but his voice is tinged with sadness. Perhaps even guilt.

Thomas knows exactly what this is really about. “You’re good with him, too. He loves you so much.” Thomas pauses, breaking off a small piece of cookie for Jonathan before addressing the real issue. “Having nieces and nephews is enough for me.”

Charlie leans over and brushes Jonathan’s thick hair back off his forehead. “I just wish I could give ya one of your own. It’s stupid, I know. But I really wish we could have one. A kid that’s part you and part me.”

Thomas swallows the lump in his throat. “I wish that, too. But we can’t change who we are.”

“Don’t it ever make you wonder if that’s what makes it wrong? Cause we can’t fulfill God’s”—he waves his hand around—“purpose or whatever? To procreate?”

“Not anymore,” Thomas says earnestly. “I think God put us here to find love. To love someone and look after them and care for them.”

Charlie looks down at Jonathan happily eating his cookie. “Soon we’ll need to be more careful what we say and do in front of him.”

“Evie doesn’t mind us holding hands and giving each other a quick kiss in front of her. Or Jonathan. I think she barely even notices anymore.”

“Yeah, but Johnny’s startin’ to speak now, ain’t ya, little man?” Charlie grins and tickles Johnathan’s tummy through his thick coat, earning him another giggle. Then he turns more serious again. “What if he told somebody what he saw? Once he starts going to school, or even when Richard gets home.”

“I guess so.” Thomas sighs, not even wanting to contemplate hiding from Jonathan—an innocent child who loves and accepts them without question. A child who is yet to be poisoned by the world around them.

Evie calls out from inside the house. “I’m home! Where are my favorite boys?”

“Mama, Mama!” Jonathan wriggles off Thomas’s lap just as Evie appears at the back door. “Up, up,” he says, arms reaching for his mother. Scooping him up into her arms, Evie spins him around a few times before settling him on her hip.

“Did you behave for your uncles?” Jonathan nods with a gummy smile. “Good boy.”

Thomas stands and gives Evie a kiss on her cheek. “How about Charlie and I start on dinner, and Jonathan can show you what he built with his blocks today? We left it set up in the sitting room because he wanted you to see it. It’s very impressive.” Thomas ruffles Jonathan’s hair.

“That sounds perfect.” Evie looks to her brother, who is still snacking on cookies. “Charlie, can you bring the tray back in?”

“Sure thing, sis.”

They head inside, Evie and Jonathan to the sitting room where Jonathan shows off his block castle, and Thomas and Charlie to the kitchen to get out the ingredients they’ll need for dinner.

As they start pulling things from the pantry they listen to Evie and Jonathan natter, and laugh at Evie’s exaggerated praise and Jonathan’s tickle-pink giggles.

It’s a nice feeling to be in a full home, but the unexpected knock on the door a minute later has them both frowning.

Charlie calls out, “Evie, you expecting anyone?”

“No. Unless it’s Ma?”

“Okay, I’ll get it.”

Charlie walks to the front door, and Thomas pauses, knife poised in mid-air over the vegetables he’s been chopping, trying to hear who it is.

“Oh, Jesus . . . Evie!”

The despair in Charlie’s voice has Thomas dropping the knife on the counter and moving quickly to the front door.

He gets there seconds after Evie and watches in horror as an officer in full uniform hands her a telegram.

He’s only vaguely aware of the messenger giving his condolences and Charlie taking Jonathan from Evie’s arms. But what he’ll never forget is the sound of Evie’s pain, visceral and heart-wrenching, as she cries out like a wounded animal.

Or the sight of Jonathan’s confusion and fear, tears falling from his big blue eyes as he watches his mother sink to her knees. Tears for a father he’ll never know.