Page 44 of Resilience on Canvas

“I’m sure you two wouldn’t have no trouble rentin’ a nice place. Not with the money you have from the marathon,” Henry said. “Me and Robert, though, we have to hope that someone’ll have a room for rent in a boardin’ house or somethin’. At least for a little while.”

Henry flipped open the pack and took out two cans of beans, along with a can opener. He handed one of the cans to Robert and then started opening his own.

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to make money soon enough, Hen,” Robert said, taking care to project some confidence in his tone. “Couple of strong men like us.”

After Henry finished prying his can open, he passed the opener to Robert.

“I sure hope so.” Henry blew out a nervous breath as Robert opened his can. “I’m worried, though. Because of what my... uhm, what my father said.”

“What’d he say?” Joe asked through a mouthful of crackers.

“He thinks me and Robert won’t find enough work to live on our own for a while.

Or to pay them back for the funeral, neither.

Besides that, I think he wants me and Robert to stay with them rather than in our own place because.

.. well, because, then, he can keep us from sharin’ a room.

Maybe he hopes that eventually, me and Robert will tire of ‘whatever the heck we think this thing between us is.’” Squeezing his eyes shut, Henry shook his head and said, “Those were his words. Not mine.”

Robert’s stomach roiled from the pain in Henry’s voice.

He reached into the pack for a fork, taking the opportunity to steady himself, lest he say something biting in front of Henry’s friends.

Robert couldn’t have Joe and Rose thinking that he was a selfish son of a bitch like his father had been, taking money from the Sherwoods for the funeral and then insulting them behind their backs.

But, Christ Almighty, him and Henry weren’t hurting nobody by being together.

Henry’s Goddamn parents needed to mind their own business.

Why couldn’t Charles Sherwood let Henry make his own way in life?

Why couldn’t he let his son be happy? Charles wanting to try to shape Henry’s life into what he himself wanted for his son was why Charles had agreed to Robert’s Goddamn marriage scheme back in the wintertime.

Now that Robert knew Henry enough to understand the type of father-son relationship the two of them had, it wasn’t no surprise that his little wolf hadn’t pushed back.

Of course he hadn’t said no to marrying Clara.

Probably Henry hadn’t even had it in him to think of saying no to his father back then.

Not ’til the worry over the wedding night became overwhelming, anyway.

Poor Henry hadn’t known how much courage he had in him.

Courage to seize the life he wanted. Henry still couldn’t seem to see the courage he had within him.

But Robert had seen it. He had seen it plenty of times.

Before Robert could manage to say something comforting, Henry excused himself from their little picnic, saying he had to relieve himself, his voice wavering like he was trying not to show how emotional he was over recounting those words his father had said.

Gritting his teeth, Robert tried to calm himself by taking a couple of long breaths through his nose while Henry walked away .

Joe said, “Good Lord, I can’t believe his father sometimes.”

“I can,” Rose said. “Emily’s parents were like that. I think maybe even most parents would be.”

“Emily?” Robert asked, crooking an eyebrow.

“Oh...” Rose’s cheeks reddened, and she reached up to fix one of her hair pins. “Emily was... well, she was my companion in New York.” She looked away. “Romantic companion.”

Robert’s eyebrows shot up. Henry hadn’t never told him that Rose liked women in that kind of way. Or, well, she was with Joe, and they seemed happy enough, so it seemed like she must like both men and women, then. Robert hadn’t never met someone like that before.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew,” Rose said, meeting Robert’s eyes again. “I’m sorry if I seem uncomfortable. It isn’t that I’m worried I can’t trust you. I know I can. But I still feel funny telling people about her sometimes.”

Sympathy bloomed in Robert’s chest, and he found himself smiling a little.

Rose returned his warm smile with one of her own. “Anyway, I’m not surprised that Henry’s father isn’t being very kind with regards to your relationship.” She trailed off and let out a sorrowful sigh. “Still, I feel so sad for poor Henry. I wish we could cheer him up somehow.”

“Yeah, me too,” Robert said. “I’m hopin’ that him helpin’ me with my family—the two of us takin’ care of everybody together—will make him happy.

I know he feels like he disappointed his parents in other ways, too.

Not only because they know about our relationship, I mean.

” He heaved a sigh. “Sometimes I think Henry only sees himself as a stockboy or somethin’. But he’s so much more than that.”

“He really is,” Rose said. “He’s kind and funny and smart and—”

“ And a talented artist,” Joe said, scooping up a forkful of beans. Just before shoveling them into his mouth, he said, “Extremely talented, in fact. I bet you that he could sell some of them pictures of his someday out on the coast.”

Robert tilted his head. “Artist?”

“Oh my God! He hasn’t shown you his drawings yet?” Rose said, her eyes popping.

Robert shook his head. “Never.” He heard the crunching sound of Henry’s footsteps behind him and turned. “Henry Sherwood, when the hell were you gonna tell me that yer an artist?”

Henry stopped in his tracks. “Oh! Uhm . . .”

“Don’t you dare say that you weren’t never gonna tell me. I swear, Hen, if you really were plannin’ on keepin’ that from me, I might have to kick yer teeth in.”

Henry’s cheeks flushed crimson, but he sputtered a little laugh and shrugged his shoulders. Robert rolled his eyes. His threats weren’t holding weight with Henry Sherwood no more.

“When’d you learn how to be an artist?” Robert asked as Henry settled back down next to him.

“I started learnin’ when I was little,” Henry said with a shrug.

“I bought my first charcoal pencils before we moved to Guymon, but even before I purchased those, I liked to draw, mostly with pens or such. That was kind of hard, though, because sometimes, the ink would leak out too fast and then there’d be a big blob on my paper. Or a bunch of little blobs.”

“Did you bring them pencils? Maybe I can watch you draw somethin’ when we’re in California.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

Robert shoved him half-heartedly. “ Bore me?! Jesus, Hen, you wouldn’t bore me! ”

“Alright, well, I can try to draw somethin’ for you. I, uhm, I have some of my sketchbooks in the truck, too, if you want to see them.”

“Of course I want to see them!

Henry worried at his bottom lip for a moment.

“What if you think I’m terrible?” he asked.

“I won’t!”

Rose chimed in. “Henry, you are far from terrible. You’re incredible.”

Henry’s cheeks reddened some more. “Ah, maybe some of my stuff ain’t bad, but...” Frowning, Henry shifted uncomfortably. “Years back, when my father found a couple of my drawings, he—”

“Nope,” Robert said firmly. “I refuse to let you finish that sentence, Hen. I may have only known Charles Sherwood for a little while, other than the brief talks we'd had in church sometimes, but I can say for certain that he seems to have a knack for missin’ out on greatness, even when it’s starin’ him in the face.

” He paused to set the can of beans on the ground in front of him and then scooted closer to Henry.

Even though the two of them hadn’t never really been lovey with people watching them, Robert couldn’t hold back no more.

Heart hammering from the lingering fear of being seen, of being caught , Robert leaned in close and cupped Henry’s chin.

In the most tender tone he could muster, he said, “I won’t hear no more talk of Charles Sherwood tonight. Understand?”

Exhaling a shaky breath, Henry nodded. Pushing past his unease, Robert leaned in and touched their lips together in a brief, soft kiss.

Robert was feeling proud of his own boldness as he pulled back, but then Henry took him by the collar and smashed their faces together, capturing Robert’s lips in a long, passionate kiss.

Henry Sherwood. Brave as they came .

Rose and Joe each let out a holler. Robert had to push Henry’s shoulders to pry his little wolf off of him. Both him and Henry then started to laugh.

“Henry Sherwood, we have company,” Robert mock-scolded.

Henry’s face was redder than the ripest tomato. “Sorry.”

“Liar,” Robert teased. He picked up Henry’s can of beans and thrust it into his hand. “Come on. We better finish eatin’ before the sun sets.”

Rose teased, “Dinner with a show, though. It makes me feel like I’m back in New York.”

Henry swept his hand through the layer of sand, sending some her way.

“Hey!” she said, laughing.

Joe tried to kick some back at Henry, but his movement ended up tipping over their cracker box, making some of the crackers tumble out onto the ground.

“Joe!” Rose said. “What was that?”

“I was tryin’ to re-, uhm, retaliate.”

Rose sucked in a breath in a real exaggerated manner, and Jose crooked an eyebrow in response.

“What? Can’t I be surprised that you said the right big word for once?” Rose teased.

With a lighthearted scoff, Joe picked up a fistful of sand and tossed it in her lap.

Henry and Rose and Joe all erupted with laughter, and Robert couldn’t help but chuckle too.

Thank God Henry was feeling better now. Hopefully Robert could keep Henry’s spirits up for the rest of the trip.

Because they were so very close to finally realizing their shared fantasy of building a life together. So. Goddamn. Close.