Page 6

In the attic, Marc was getting distracted. His main stress-tell, pacing, had surfaced again. He kept walking the same four feet over and over, even though he had work to do.

But he had no idea what this lunch might be like, and it was driving him mad.

“Marc?” Donna called from the bottom of the retractable stairway.

“Come on in.” Marc walked over to the hole in the floor and squatted.

Donna craned her neck up at him. “Coffee?”

“Sure, I’ll be right down.”

“Okay, or I can just come up. I’ve brought the coffee pot so I don’t spill it on these stairs.” She showed the tray with the cups and a coffee carafe.

Marc grabbed the tray as she got closer. “Get up here. I’ll get this poured.”

While Marc poured, Donna climbed and hopped into the attic space that Marc had turned into a bedroom. He’d dragged the wooden bedframe that matched the large dresser into the center of the room. The dresser still had Jed’s framed picture standing on the corner. In the array of furniture, Marc had discovered a secretary, where he placed his laptop and cameras. He’d gotten a lot completed yesterday after getting back from his talk with Benjamin.

“Wow, this place looks homey and lived-in already,” Donna said.

“Thank you, sis. I used the old bedding, and with Ralphie’s help, I shoved the mattress from my room up here.” Marc brightened, then sighed. “But there’s still so much left to do!”

“I know,” Donna soothed. “But that find yesterday might make it so we can stay much longer, right?” She took her cup, fished in her shirt pocket, and handed Marc a small jelly jar of cream. “Here, it’s cold too.”

He took the small jar, unscrewed the lid, and poured some in his cup. “Thanks. Glad you remembered. You know I can’t drink coffee without cream.”

“Ralphie organized the clothes in the boxes. He thinks about half of them might be worth something, but I think we should just donate all the clothes to the Goodwill.” Donna sipped her own coffee as he set the cup aside.

“That’s a good idea,” Marc said. “From what I’ve been reading, it’s hard to sell clothing online. We should keep an eye out for more unusual items, though—like old books or collectible records. Grammom collected everything.”

“I know. She had sixty years to collect all this shit.” Donna sat on the bed and bounced experimentally. “Is this a feather bed under here?”

“Yes,” Marc said. “I found one stuffed in a box and aired it out yesterday afternoon. I hope it keeps me warm; it was cold up here last night.”

“You should get a comforter from my room,” Donna said. “I found a box with a couple shoved inside. At least, I think they’re comforters. Otherwise, I’ve got three boxes of blankets.”

“Oh, I’ve got a few blankets on the bed too, and the comforter from my room. If it gets colder, I’ll be ravaging all the boxes for more blankets—don’t worry about that. I won’t freeze.” They laughed.

Marc took another sip of his coffee and started pacing again. Then he stopped, with effort. “I’m going to wear a path in this floor.”

“What’s going on, Marc?” Donna knew his tells too.

“This lunch date,” Marc admitted. “I’m worried that Jed’ll be angry with me.”

Donna took it in stride. “Honey, from what you said, he wants this for you.”

“I try to tell myself that, but then I worry that I’ll forget him. I’m worried that I”ll forget what he looks like.” Marc gave up and went back to pacing.

“You’ve got that picture to remember him,” she said and pointed to the dresser.

Marc picked up the frame and took another sip of his coffee. He smiled. “Yeah, that’s true. But this isn’t what he looked like.”

“When did he take that picture?” Donna asked.

“This was from his law school graduation. We never took ‘couple pictures.’ I actually had to cut this out of his yearbook.” Marc bit his bottom lip and held the frame to his chest. “This wasn’t even what he looked like anymore. Even with my eyes closed, I’m having a hard time remembering his mustache. He grew it after that photo was taken.”

“But you remember he had one,” Donna said.

“Yeah,” Marc smiled. “He had a mustache that was too long, and he’d bite it when he’d eat. He could never remember to keep it trimmed.” He did that on purpose, so Icould run my fingertips over the edges and suggest he trim it. Marc opened his eyes and blinked away tears. “Sorry. I know it’s probably a dumb fear, but…”

Donna shook her head. “No, it makes sense you’d be worried about that. Memories fade. I can’t remember what Mom looks like anymore. But I found a picture of Grammom in the newspaper for her obituary, so I could remember what she looked like.” She rose from the bed, placed her cup on the dresser and hugged her brother. “Like you said, it was just a kiss. There’s no guarantee that this lunch will be anything other than working out how to handle the pictures and letters.”

“I know,” Marc said sheepishly. “I’m jumping to conclusions, but I’ve always been like that.” Marc broke the hug, put the picture back, and walked to the furniture he’d organized in the room’s corner. “There’s another metal-framed bed, a few random chairs, and these midcentury ones. I might want to keep them up here to make the place feel like home. They remind me of Los Angeles.”

“That’s fine with me,” Donna said. “They don’t look like anything I’d be interested in. But I’ll get Ralphie up here to help bring the other pieces downstairs. When do you think we can get them ready for sale?”

“The eBay page is almost complete and I’ll get in touch with an estate sale company to see if we can have someone come out and look at the haul.” Marc glanced at his phone. “But first, my meeting is in thirty minutes. Think I’ll make it?”

“Are you walking or driving?”

“Driving,” Marc said.

“Oh, hun. No one drives out here anymore.” Donna laughed. “Yes, you should be fine.”

“I’ve added the address to my GPS, so I shouldn’t get lost. I hate to admit it, but I’m nervous about this.”

“If you described last night accurately, he’s as interested in you as you are in him,” Donna said and sipped her coffee.

Marc drained his cup and gathered his phone, notebook, and pen. “I’ll take this stuff along in case he has notes or needs me to check on something.”

“Maybe he just wants to have lunch,” Donna said.

“Maybe. I guess I’ll find out soon.” He picked up the Thermos. “Come on.” He started down the attic stairway. “When it’s official and we own the place outright, I’ll change this extendable ladder into a real set of stairs. Whatever money we make from the furniture and other stuff, we’ll reinvest in the house.” He waited for Donna to descend.

“Sounds like a plan. The three of us can continue living here for a good long time.” Donna reached the bottom of the stairway, and Marc headed towards the end of the hall.

“Can you put those in the kitchen before you leave?” Donna asked.

“Okay, sis, but then I’m out of here.” He raced down the stairs, stopping only long enough to put the jar of cream back in the fridge and pour water in the bottom of their cups in the sink. He was at the door when Donna called down the stairs, “Bye! Have a good time!”

“Bye,” he said as he opened the door.

“What?”

“Bye!” he shouted as he hurried out to his Jeep.

* * *

In the car, his thoughts became a conversation.

Jed, it’s just lunch, it might not even be anything more. I’m sorry I kissed him behind your back.

You didn’t.

I did, though. It was more because… I can’t lie. He’s attractive. His excitement about these documents reminds me of your enthusiasm for a case.

He could almost hear Jed sighing—the sigh he reserved for Marc’s irrational episodes. Marc, I want you to find someone. I’ve picked this guy for you. I like him. William likes him too.

Who’s William?

You know, William Shelby. Donna found him.

Oh… William. Right.

Trust your heart, Marc. Trust with all the love you gave me.

* * *

Marc kept his eyes on the road, glancing occasionally at his GPS. The little car that represented his Jeep kept moving forward on the map he followed, turning left at the entrance to the Pea Ridge National Park official gate.

He followed the gravel road to the two-story structure in the distance: a fireplace at each end and a set of elk horns at the roof’s apex. He pulled up beside Benjamin’s Toyota.

Benjamin wasn’t in the car. He frowned and glanced around the site.

No sign of him.

He got out of the Jeep and locked up, an old habit from Los Angeles.

“Marc!”

He looked up just as he heard the shout. Benjamin waved his arms near a cannon. They jog-walked towards each other, Benjamin looking over his shoulder every couple of feet.

“Are you being followed?” Marc shouted, but Benjamin shook his head as he approached.

When they were within talking distance, Benjamin said, “I’ve got a picnic set up. I’m just keeping an eye out for squirrels.”

“What about the tavern?”

“It’s not a real tavern, in the strict sense of the word. Come on.” Benjamin reached out for Marc’s hand to tug him towards the cannon—just a brief, friendly tug.

“Okay, let’s move fast if you’re afraid of sharing lunch with them,” Marc chuckled.

As they approached the cannon, Marc noticed two wooden benches and a small wooden table set with camp dishes and napkins. A wooden ice chest and the violin he’d remembered from the first time they’d met sat on one end of the table.

“I might have gone a little overboard— Hey!” Benjamin clapped his hands at a squirrel running along the fence surrounding the property. It jumped down on the other side of the fence, and Benjamin grinned as they sat down.

“So, lunch was just an idea? What’s up with the tavern?” Marc took a seat on a bench.

“Oh, it was a tavern at one time, before the Civil War. It was the last stop before a long ride. On the weekends, this place is bustling with costumed employees who give tours and explain the history.” Benjamin reached into the wooden box, pulled out pewter dishes, and placed a roast chicken and a pea salad on the table. “I only get to use this setup twice a year at my yearly Civil War battle, so I pulled out it early.”

Marc nodded his head. “Civil War battle?”

“I’m a re-enactor. I play Brigadier General James, a long distant great-grandfather, of the 12th Arkansas Infantry, Hébert’s Brigade. You should come, if you’ve got time.”

“Sure, sounds fun.” Marc pulled a drumstick off the chicken. “What’s involved?”

“Next Saturday we’ve got the bonfire. We’ll be doing drills and practicing maneuvers. Remember the other night at the meeting? I was talking to Crandall?”

Marc nodded around a mouthful of chicken and made a go-on gesture with his free hand.

“He’s one of us. He’s got a new uniform, and I think he’s planning on moving up to officer.”

All the talk was a little over Marc’s head. He’d never played outside; he was an online gamer. He’d leveled three toons to over one hundred in World of Warcraft because Jed had encouraged him to play. Jed and he never grouped together. Jed was a solitary player, hacking and killing creatures to take out his aggressions from the real-life characters he had to defend. But running around, out in the elements, had never seemed like a fun time to either of them.

Even so, he could listen to Benjamin talk all day about his war maneuvers.

Benjamin came back from a long description of a battle maneuver as if he was coming out of a trance. “Shit, I’m running off at the mouth, aren’t I? Damn, I’m sorry. I’d talk my head off if I wasn’t so hungry.” He pulled the other drumstick off the chicken.

“No,” Marc assured him. “No, it’s interesting. I was just thinking about my husband and the games we used to play. They just never took place outside.”

Benjamin began to choke on his mouthful of chicken. He jumped up and tripped over the bench, coughing hard, bent over.

Marc, alarmed, jumped up and ran to his side. “Benjamin! Let me help!”

Benjamin spat, coughed again, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry. I just—you surprised me. I didn’t know you were married. I wouldn’t have grabbed your package or even suggested the bonfire. I’m so sorry.” His face grew a deep red, and he refused Marc’s hand and stood up on his own. “Let’s… let’s take care of business. I’ve got the email from Artamae in this folder.”

“No, no. You don’t understand. I’m not married anymore.” Marc stopped short. That’s the first time I’ve said that since…And then he looked at Benjamin. “I mean, I might still feel married, but Jed isn’t with me anymore.”

“Divorced?” Benjamin was looking through his messenger bag, avoiding Marc’s eyes.

“Dead,” Marc said bluntly.

“I-I’m sorry.” An awkward silence fell between them as Benjamin found the file. “I don’t know why I didn’t just bring my laptop. It’s just that when I get my Civil War gear out, I tend to go natural.”

Marc touched Benjamin’s shoulder. “Benjamin, it’s fine. I’m okay. He died two years ago. I’m nearly over it.”

“I don’t think you should ever be over it,” Benjamin said, but he smiled. “Look, you don’t have to tell me about any of it. Sit down, and I’ll let you know the great news from Artamae.”

He brought out a jug and filled the mugs on the table. “Just water, sorry. It would have been something stronger, but we’re on federal land.”

Marc took his seat across from Benjamin. “Water’s just fine, thanks. Now what do you have there?”

Benjamin held out a piece of paper from his file. “Take a look at this.”

Mister Adams,

First off, how could you hide these pictures from me? You must let me know how you found the photos and let me touch them with my delicate hands. (Don’t laugh! When I’m handling history, everything about me is delicate.) Young man, you must arrange for a trip to Little Rock very soon because I’m going out of town at the end of the month for a conference.

Second, these look like the photo set from the Pea Ridge Battle area. The building doesn’t appear to be the Elkhorn Tavern. If you identified the building, then we’ve got a new historical spot. Get me everything you can on the location—address, the year they built the house, everything. We can date these photos to 1865. You must pull up all records regarding the home. Get floor plans, if possible. Also, was anything else found with the pictures? Do you have the original wrapping?

Third, don’t be a stranger! When you get here, we’ll go out for drinks with my old man and the historian. Let’s make that happen very soon, sir.

Always,

Artamae

“Wow! They’re authentic? I mean, I—we can save the house?” Marc read it over again, not believing his eyes.

“Looks like it, but we must start the paperwork soon. If you can make the bonfire, that’ll be cool too.”

“Tell me more about this bonfire.” Tell me why you love this bonfire so much.

Benjamin picked up the violin. “It’s our big get-together, is all.”

“Were you going to play?”

“I had planned on it, but then I thought about putting it away instead.” Benjamin held the violin in his lap.

“I’d like to hear it. What was the song you were playing when I stumbled upon you the other day?” Marc took another bite of the chicken.

“It’s the ‘Ashokan Farewell.’” Benjamin put the fiddle under his chin and plucked strings lightly.

“It sounded familiar—the tune, not the name,” Marc said.

“Did you watch Ken Burns’ The Civil War?” Benjamin turned one of the pegs on the end of the violin’s neck, then plucked a string again.

“Didn’t everyone?” Marc lied and grinned.

“It’s the only original piece of music in the show. I just like playing it. It reminds me of a simpler time. It’s got some difficult passages, and it’s nice to play something that can work for the period but not be the period.”

Benjamin started the song. He slid the bow up the strings and down again, his fingers dancing lightly along them. Marc listened in delight. About halfway through the melody, he stopped and rested the violin on his knee.

“I have to practice the rest of it before I’ll feel ready to perform. But when the rest of the band gets together, it’s a treat. Crandall plays the banjo, James plays the guitar, and Melody brings up the second violin. Even if women traditionally wouldn’t have played alongside the men, she wanted to try, and the gang is amazing when it gets going.”

“And the bonfire? Is it just a night to play and talk?”

“It is. It’s men comparing uniforms and the chefs planning out the meals for the weekend battle sequence. Nurses rehearse wrapping the wounds, and everyone brings their families. You should bring Donna along.”

“Families? They allow kids?” Marc raised his eyebrows.

“It’s best if they aren’t too young,” Benjamin admitted, “but as long as you keep an eye on them, it’s fine.”

“Ralphie is nearly fifteen.” Marc considered. “And he’s a great kid.”

Benjamin set the violin down. “Is Ralphie your kid?”

“No, I’m not a dad.” Marc laughed. “No, Ralphie is Donna’s kid—my nephew.”

“Then sure, you guys should come!” Benjamin enthused. “It’s in my backyard for the most part, and we branch off into the national park. The bonfire is my backyard fire pit.”

He picked up his violin again and played something that sounded like an Irish jig. Marc couldn’t help clapping his hands and bouncing his knee to the rhythm. His plate of food was long gone, but this man mesmerized him.

Finally, the music ended. “Want to come back to my place? I can get the paperwork to you tomorrow.” Benjamin packed up the violin.

“I would,” Marc said, “but now that we’ve got a good chance of keeping the house, we’re killing ourselves cleaning it out and getting stuff ready to sell.” Marc drained the cup and stacked the plates to make it easier for Benjamin to pack.

“That’s great. Is the house full of antiques?”

“If you think shit from the 1950s is antique, then sure.”

Benjamin stacked the items and began the trudge to his car. “I’ll be back for the benches and the other stuff.”

“Here, let me help you. It wouldn’t be a fair date if I just up and left you with all the work.” Marc grabbed the two benches and watched Benjamin’s back. Did I just say date?

Benjamin stopped at the back of his Toyota, opened it, and placed the violin case in the back. Marc handed him the two benches. “Thank you. If you can get the chest with the leftover food, I’ll gather up the dishes.”

“Sure thing. So, will I need a uniform for the bonfire?” Marc asked as they made their way back to the picnic area.

“Nah, it’s regular clothes. Only a few people show up in costume, and it’s usually the people who want to show off a new uniform or are still learning how to walk around in costume.” Benjamin reached across the table and tossed the last of his chicken towards the squirrel, who was back on the fence.

“Is it hard to walk around in the costumes?” Marc bent his knees and picked up the wood chest.

“Mostly it’s the women, getting used to wearing long dresses and those hoop skirts.”

“That makes sense,” Marc said.

They walked back to the Toyota and stored the rest of the items in the backseat. After they packed the SUV, the two men stood against their cars and looked at each other for a minute.

Marc was smiling so much that his mouth hurt. He wasn’t sure what to say or do next, but he knew he didn’t want to drive off.

Just as Marc got up the courage to say something, Benjamin spoke.

“I’ve got a few extra uniforms. We’re almost the same height. I mean, I might be a little wider around the waist.”

“Ah, I’ve got way more poundage on me than you.” Marc blushed. “Maybe I could check out your costumes on Saturday, see if something fits.”

“Sure! In about a month, we’ll have a rehearsal camp before the big battle at the end of the season. If you get a chance, maybe you can come out and see what it’s like camping. Most guys just lie under the stars on bedrolls, but I’ve got a tent that is warmer.”

“That sounds fun too.” Marc’s phone beeped. He pulled it from his front pocket. “Donna wants me to get home soon.”

“Sure, we can talk more tomorrow,” Benjamin said.

Marc turned to his car and then back again. “Oh, I just had a thought. We’ve been going through the boxes that we’ve found in the house.”

“That has to be fun, right? I mean, discovering all the little things.”

“Yeah, I’ve set up a website with pictures of the more antique and unique items. We’re donating all the clothes to the Goodwill.”

“I’d love to see what you’ve got. What about eBay?”

“I don’t know how to set one up, honestly. I think the oldest thing I’ve found is some of the furniture.”

“It’s easy, maybe I can stop by and show you how to do it.” Benjamin smiled. “Have you thought about donating the clothing to the local homeless shelter? Or women’s shelter?” Benjamin pointed out.

“I hadn’t, but that sounds better,” Marc said. “Anyway, seeing Donna’s text reminded me—we found a lot of fabric in one room of the house. Bolts and bolts of it. Could your group make use of stuff like that?”

“What kind of fabric?” Benjamin seemed intrigued.

“I’m not sure. I’ll tell her to set it aside and we’ll look at it together. But I remember Donna mentioned something about wool and linen.”

“Oh, what colors?”

“Like I said, I’m not sure. But you can check it out when you stop by. Anything that works, we’ll donate to your unit for the eBay help.”

“Any of it?” Benjamin tilted his head and his brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

“Yes, it’s a deal.” Marc held out his hand.

Benjamin took it and they shook. Then they stood there, holding hands. Benjamin moved a step, and then Marc did too, until they were close enough to kiss again.

“So we’ll see you on Saturday,” Marc said awkwardly, and let his hand slip out of Benjamin’s. He got into his car and waved. “Bye.”

He backed up and drove off, leaving Benjamin waving at him in his rearview mirror.

I’m not sure, Jed. it feels awkward and too soon.

You don’t need to jump in bed with him. You just need to spend some time with someone else. It’s time, Marc.