Page 28 of Resilience on Canvas

Chapter Fourteen

Robert

Clutching the note Henry had left for him on the kitchen table, Robert was breathing fast and shallow, rage causing his muscles to shake.

He crumpled the paper in his palm. Goddamn son-of-a-bitch Henry Sherwood.

Why would he do something like this? Not only had Henry paid for the funeral home owners to take Robert’s father’s body, but he had then prepaid for both the funeral service and the casket?

Dammit, now Robert owed Henry a whole bunch of money.

No, worse. He owed Henry’s parents money.

Owing Henry for the transportation of the corpse from the Davis’s farm over to the funeral home would have been humiliating enough.

But, Jesus Christ, this was too Goddamn much.

Robert clenched his teeth to fight back the scream that was threatening to explode forth.

Dammit, Robert took care of his family his own self.

It wasn’t Henry’s responsibility to chuck his money into the fire like this.

And it wasn’t right for Henry’s parents to burn up some of the money they’d been saving for so long, neither.

And every fucking penny that either Henry or his parents had spent on the funeral expenses was as good as torched now.

Because there wasn’t no way in hell Robert could ever pay the Sherwoods back .

Robert took the now-crumpled note and ripped it in two before inhaling a breath to try to calm himself.

Somehow, he’d have to keep himself from boiling over.

He’d have to head over to Henry’s parents’ house and pretend that he was thankful for everything.

But God help him, the moment him and Henry found some privacy. ..

Robert wasn’t sure whether he’d kiss him or kill him or both.

Probably both.

Robert took the car into town. By the time he pulled up to Henry’s parents’ house, the storm of fury inside him was barely blowing stronger than a light breeze.

After parking, Robert started up the walkway.

When he stepped up onto Sherwood’s well-kept porch—which had floorboards that were much sturdier and in better shape than his own—he clenched his teeth to brace himself from the swift flash of envy.

And he tried not to think about how much he owed these people now.

Before Robert even had a chance to knock, Henry opened the door.

In a flash, every ounce of rage and shame and want that Robert had been keeping contained inside him flared up, the twisted swell of emotions causing Robert’s heart to race. Without a word, Robert took Henry by the collar and pulled him outside.

Stumbling forward, Henry said, “Robert, I... I’m sorry. But I had to—”

“Goddammit, Hen, I’m so mad right now I can barely even think,” Robert hissed.

Quickly, he reached out and shut the door, one hand still clutching tight to Henry’s shirt collar.

Yanking Henry close, Robert turned to him and searched Henry’s worried eyes, while his own were wide and wild.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Paying for the... the whole of everything for my pop? That was my responsibility. ”

“I couldn’t leave him there, rotting like that.

And you said yerself that he ought to have a casket, that he was still yer blood and such.

I mean, it wouldn’t be right to... to toss him in a hole without a proper burial.

You were the one to make me realize that back in the store.

Gosh, Robert, I’ve told you before that I want to help you.

I wasn’t spendin’ that money on nothin’ important. ”

Robert pulled on Henry’s collar—one fierce tug—and then, through clenched teeth, he snarled, “And your parents? What about their money?”

Henry’s eyes went large and pleading, and, Christ, he was so Goddamn cute. Robert found his fury faltering a little.

“I’ll pay ’em back,” Henry said. “I promise.”

Robert huffed, though there was less strength behind his upset than there had been before.

“Great, so then I’ll owe you more money instead,” he said bitterly. “What makes you think that’s better?”

“Well... uhm...” Henry’s face reddened a little, and he started chewing on his bottom lip—his plump, pink bottom lip which, even through the haze of upset, Robert could see looked so Goddamn kissable.

“Because it’s me, you know? Me and you? And I thought.

.. well, I thought we were... something. ”

Henry’s eyes fell to the wooden floorboards, and the last bits of Robert’s fury took off with the next light breeze. He released Henry’s shirt.

“Yeah, we are,” Robert sighed.

“Still?” Henry said.

“Still,” Robert confirmed.

Whatever had started between the two of them couldn’t be broken so easily. Although Robert still wished Henry hadn’t paid for the funeral himself like that.

“But, Hen, what you did...” Robert raked a hand through his hair.

He wanted to say something biting. Something mean.

Something to make Henry realize how Goddamn inadequate he had made Robert feel.

But Henry’s sweet face and kissable lips and puppy eyes had snuffed out too much of Robert’s fire.

Growling, Robert said, “Goddammit, I’m supposed to be mad at you! ”

Henry huffed a soft laugh. He looked up at Robert through his lashes, and one corner of his mouth ticked up to form a barely-there half smile that made Robert’s stomach flutter in the most infuriating way.

“We can pretend that yer mad?” Henry suggested. “If that helps.”

Robert snorted. “Shut up, Henry.”

“I mean it. I’ll even let you hit me.”

Robert searched Henry’s beautiful brown eyes. Lord, there wasn’t the tiniest bit of insincerity in them. There was something else there, though. Something sinful and lovely.

“Don’t tempt me.” Robert took Henry by the shirt collar and pulled him close. Then, in a whispered voice, he said, “Because if I hit you, then I’ll need to make it better. And I know neither of us is ready for that right now.”

Henry’s face flushed. He exhaled a shaky breath. Robert leaned in and touched their foreheads together.

“Was that too much?” Robert asked. “Probably, right?” He made a sound in between a hum and a laugh. “I know we need to be careful, but honest to God, I can’t help myself when yer close to me like this.”

Henry chuckled, his little laughter barely loud enough for Robert to even hear.

“Uhm, well, yer the one who keeps pullin’ me close.”

“I know,” Robert said. And he knew, too, that he ought to pull back right now. But he wanted to savor their forbidden closeness for a moment longer. “God, I like you, Hen. ”

Henry shifted his position, tilting his head so that their noses bumped together. “I like you, too, Robert. I like you so much. I’m sorry I went behind yer back like that.”

“I know you are.”

“God, I thought you might kill me for it.”

“And yet you still did it,” Robert said, smiling to himself. It took real courage for Henry to betray him like that. “It was the right thing, Hen. Brave, too.” Closing his eyes, he paused to breathe in Henry’s scent one more time. “Now, I think we better head back in, little wolf.”

Robert opened his eyes and waited for Henry’s expression to sour from the nickname. But Henry’s smile broadened instead. Henry rubbed their noses together. Once. Twice. Three perfect times before finally pulling back. Robert released Henry’s rumpled shirt fabric from his hand.

Without exchanging another word, they went into the house.

In the front room, the twins were playing with some Lincoln Logs, ones they had likely brought with them from their house—the set heavily used, some of the pieces missing—while May was nearby pretending to feed a well-loved baby doll.

The moment they spotted Robert, every single one of them hopped up and barreled into him, and the force of all three kids at once pushed Robert back a step.

By the time Robert managed to kneel, all three had started to cry.

While Thomas and Peter cried into his chest, May scrambled up onto his thigh.

Clinging to him, she cried into the crook of his neck, wetting his skin with her tears.

Robert’s chest twinged as he hugged them close.

Raymond Davis may have been a mean bastard, but, hell, of course the loss had hit these little ones hard.

He had been their pop, the man who had raised them, however poorly.

And, Christ, these children had spent hours trapped in the house while their father had been putrefying only feet away .

“I’m sorry I left you for so long,” he said. “I made me some money, though.”

“Enough to bury Pop?” Thomas asked with a sniffle.

Dammit. Of course the kids had overheard him talking to Clara before he left that morning.

Robert sighed. It wasn’t enough for the funeral. Not even close. Enough for a couple of meals, maybe. Probably it was enough for some penny candy, too. Or popcorn. One tiny treat that the family could enjoy while they waited for the bank to take their farm. Son of a bitch!

Before Robert could reply, Henry’s hand settled atop his shoulder.

“Enough for the funeral, yup,” he lied, squeezing Robert’s shoulder.

Gratitude swelled in Robert’s chest. “I hadn’t told you this yet, Robert, but Mr. Simmons said we could have the funeral tomorrow.

Save on the embalming cost. He even had some pre-made caskets for sale and knew some men who have been waitin’ for work, too. Men who can shovel.”

Folks who needed money and were taking whatever work they could get.

Robert smiled sadly. “Thanks, Hen.”

Robert hugged the children for a little longer. After a while, once they seemed to have cried everything out, they were happy to return to their games. Robert pushed himself to stand, his muscles sore and bones cracking as he made it to his feet.

“Did you talk to Clara?” he asked Henry. “About the bank?”

Henry shook his head. “I couldn’t make myself tell her. Oh, Robert, it was too horrible.”

Clara had probably been on the verge of breaking, even without the knowledge that they’d soon lose their home.

Robert nodded. “I know it was. I’m sorry I put you through that. ”

“Should we tell her now? Together?”

“Yeah.”

Robert and Henry left to find Clara. Robert could hear her laughter rolling through the hall, the sound traveling from the back of the house. They found her chatting with Henry's parents in the kitchen. As soon as Robert walked through the threshold, Clara rushed over to hug him.

“Don’t be mad at Henry,” she whispered.

“Henry and me are fine. Don’t you worry.” He pulled back and smiled when he noticed the brightness in her eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the bank just yet. “Seems like yer feelin’ better than you were before.”

“I had a nap. Goodness, I slept so well. And, Robert, getting out of that house...”

“I shouldn’t have let you stay there with Pop still in the bedroom like that.”

Henry’s father chimed in from the kitchen table. “Everything’s taken care of now, Robert.”

Shame churned in Robert’s stomach.

Grimacing, he said, “Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“Appreciate it,” Henry’s father said. “But if you can’t—”

“I will.”

Henry’s father only responded with a curt nod. Henry’s mom walked over, her hands clasped in front of her chest.

“Robert, we were thinkin’ that maybe y’all should stay here for a while.

At least through tomorrow night. We could keep the little ones occupied before the funeral.

I know how hard it can be to return to your house once someone you love passes away.

A couple of nights of reprieve might be helpful for everyone. ”

“Ah, we couldn’t impose like that,” Robert said .

“We insist. Besides, I love having the children here. And Clara, of course.”

“Well . . .”

Robert looked over at Henry who merely shrugged.

It seemed like this wasn’t part of Henry’s plan, but the man wasn’t objecting.

Robert pursed his lips as he thought over the offer.

Probably the kids were better off here. Eating proper meals.

Sleeping in what had to be bigger, nicer beds.

It meant more time with Henry. But it meant imposing on Henry’s parents, too.

Robert wasn’t fond of that notion, but he had to do what was best for his family.

“Alright, sure, we can stay.”

Robert would have to head back home in the morning to find some church clothes for everyone. Something they could wear for the funeral. And then, once their pop was buried, Robert would have to tell Clara they were losing the farm.

Lord help him. What a month it had been.