The Hollow Hills - 24. Chapter 24

Joshua

I yawned, and resisted the urge to stretch because I didn’t want to disturb the beautiful man curled up against my side. I set my book down on the nightstand, but hesitated to turn off the light. Galen was sleeping; his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm that had a hypnotizing effect. Even though he had spent every night for the past two weeks in my bed, it still felt new to me—and very, very right. I watched him for a minute, then moved to turn the knob on the lamp next to my bed.

“Read to me,” Galen said softly.

I stared as a smile spread across my face. It was the first time Galen had spoken to me since he arrived at the farm. His head was tilted toward mine, and his green eyes looked bright in the lamplight, instead of the dull numbness they usually conveyed.

Our nightly routine typically ended with me reading out loud to Galen. I liked to read myself to sleep, and the sound of my voice seemed to help Galen relax. That night, however, Galen had fallen asleep almost immediately, so I hadn’t bothered reading aloud.

“Sure. I can read to you,” I replied. I picked up the book and read to him. He sighed and shifted in my arms, causing my breath to hitch. His head rested on my chest and shoulder so that his hair was just below my chin. Since he started using my bathroom to shower in, he used my shampoo and soap. His scent mingled with my own, producing a mixture I found rather heady. I had to remind myself that Galen was my friend.

After about twenty minutes, I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, so I set the novel aside and turned the light off. Galen moved with me as I shifted into a better position to sleep. I raised my hand to run it through his hair, but stopped myself. It was a romantic gesture that, even though he was asleep, I knew was inappropriate. We were friends. I sighed and settled into my pillow. “Good night, Galen,” I whispered.

The following morning, I awoke before Galen. While I wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with him in my arms, I really had to pee. I lifted his arm off my side and slid out of bed. He frowned and moved into a different position, then settled back into the steady rise and fall of peaceful slumber. After using the restroom, I headed into the kitchen to start breakfast. It felt strange to make my own pot of coffee. Alannah was an early riser and always had a fresh pot waiting for me when I woke up.

She was spending most nights at Liam’s now, so it was just me and Galen for breakfast. I decided to make pancakes and sausage. We hadn’t had those in a while. As I whisked the batter, I felt a presence behind me. I didn’t need to look to know it was Galen.

“Good morning,” I said. “I hope you’re in the mood for pancakes.”

His only response was to step closer, until he was almost glued to my left side.

“Can you grab me an egg, swee—uh, Galen?” I mentally kicked myself for the almost slip. He headed to the fridge, then returned a moment later and handed me an egg. I mixed it into the batter and set it aside to rest. The pancakes came out lighter and fluffier that way. I moved to the stove and turned on the burner after placing my favorite cast iron skillet on it. After it heated, I added some butter, followed by several breakfast sausage patties. The sizzle and pop of the fatty meat as it hit the hot surface made my mouth water. Galen followed my movements the entire time, moving around the kitchen with me in a strange symbiosis.

He had started latching on to me after Dr. Snowden’s initial visit. I think seeing the doctor rattled him to the point where he needed constant reassurance he was safe. Galen’s endurance had improved, so he now worked in the barn with Alannah all morning. I was lucky to have an understanding boss, so I completed my magazine work in my home office. While I probably could have left Galen to go to the office, I was afraid of leaving him alone. I wanted to be around in case he needed me. During the afternoon, he helped me around the house—preparing dinner and completing simple household chores.

Dr. Snowden had spent several days sitting the same room as Galen, allowing his new patient to get used to his presence. He completed paperwork or watched TV while Galen clung to me and eyed him suspiciously. I tried leaving them alone once, but Galen latched on to my arm so tightly he left a small bruise.

During the two weeks following Daniel’s initial visit, Galen had slowly showed signs of returning to life. He’d gesture to things he wanted, especially when we prepared dinner. He made eye contact with me more frequently. The doctor had told us the medication changes would start to show their effects in two to three weeks, so it seemed his prediction was right on schedule. Galen’s next appointment with Daniel was the day after he asked me to read to him. I was looking forward to telling Dr. Snowden the good news.

That morning, I was in my office writing an article, when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to find my boss standing on the porch. “Mason! Come on it,” I said, and gestured toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, Josh.” He stepped inside, hung his coat on a hook in the mudroom, and entered the kitchen.

“Have a seat. Can I get you anything?” I asked.

“No, thank you. This will be a short visit.” He sat at the kitchen table, and I slid into a chair opposite him.

“What’s going on?” My heartrate had increased, and I wiped my hands on my jeans. Mason was a good boss and friend, but rarely stopped by the farm.

“We’ve known each other a long time.”

I nodded and swallowed, a bad feeling sank into my stomach. “Yes, we have.”

“I would hope you’d agree that I’ve been pretty generous and accommodating of your schedule.”

“Yeah, you have. I appreciate it very much.”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to put on my boss hat for a minute.”

I looked at his stern face. I knew exactly what was coming. It was related to an email exchange we had earlier that morning.

“I’m very sorry about your friend, but I do have a business to run. You know how long we’ve been trying to get an interview with Chef Preston. And now that he’s agreed, he specifically requested you. He’s temperamental enough without having to deny his request. You know I’m usually pretty flexible with deadlines, but this is a special case. I want this feature as our headline article in the next issue. I’m going to have to insist you travel to New York for this. If you continue to refuse… well… I’m sorry, but there will be consequences.”

I exhaled and ran my hand through my hair. “How soon will I need to go?”

“Within the week. The sooner the better.”

I nodded. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“Good. I’m very sorry, Josh. You know how highly I think of you and your work, but I’ve gone above and beyond for you. You know I don’t do this lightly.”

“I know, Mason. Believe me, I appreciate everything you do for me.”

He held out his hand and when I clasped it, he drew me into a quick embrace, patting me on the back. “You’re like a son to me, Josh, so this really pains me. I admire how you’re taking care of your friend. How is he doing, by the way?”

“Better. He spoke to me this morning. It’s the first time he’s spoken in weeks.”

“Well, that sounds like progress.”

“I’ll call Preston and set up the interview. I’ll let you know when it’s scheduled.”

“Thank you. Take care,” Mason stated, then headed out the door.

I blew out my breath in a huff. What was I going to do with Galen when I travelled to New York?

After dinner, I sat at the table with Alannah and Liam after Galen settled on the couch.

“What’s wrong, love? Ye’ve been quiet all evening. Did something happen?”

I looked at Alannah and sighed. Not much escaped her notice. “Mason stopped by this morning. He wants me to go to New York to interview one of the hottest new chefs on the scene. He’s very quirky and requested me for the interview. He won’t do it, otherwise. I tried to refuse, but I wasn’t given a choice. Or, actually, I was. Do the interview or lose my job.”

“Bloody hell,” Alannah muttered.

“I have been passing a lot of my interviews off on our correspondents. Mason’s been very accommodating over the years. I just don’t know what to do about Galen when I’m gone. I’ll get back here as soon as I can, but it’s a long drive and the interview will last all day, since I’ll be there for both lunch and dinner services. I don’t think I can make the drive there and back in one day.”

“I’ll stay here, and I can ask Jody if he’ll stay too. Maybe Galen will let one of us sleep with him. He used to climb into bed with me when we were kids if he was upset. He did the same with Jody when they were in college together,” said Liam.

I nodded. “Sounds good.” I felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of another man sharing our bed with Galen. I jumped when I felt a pair of arms snake around my waist, but relaxed when Galen laid his head on my shoulder. I wondered how much of our conversation he had heard.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

Alannah and Liam both sat up straight and exchanged looks. I hadn’t told them about Galen speaking that morning.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Galen. It’s New York City. There will be a lot of people around. I won’t be gone long. I’ll be back before you know it.”

His emerald eyes widened, and his whole body shook with tremors. He breathed in short gasps as the panic attack took hold. I pulled him close and rubbed small circles around his back. “Shhh… it’s OK,” I murmured.

“Don’t… leave… me….” he stated in between breaths.

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back the next day. It’s only for one night.”

Galen shook his head. “I’ll go with you.”

I looked at Liam, who shrugged. Alannah smiled. “Well, I guess ye have a travel companion.”

“Apparently.”

Dr. Snowden was against Galen taking the trip. He didn’t want to jeopardize the amount of progress Galen had made. I agreed with him; however, every time I tried to talk to Galen about staying behind, he had a panic attack. Daniel adjusted his medication and prescribed an anti-anxiety pill to be used when needed. Galen still regarded the doctor with suspicion. He refused to be in the room alone with him and wouldn’t say a word to him.

I scheduled the interview with Chef Preston for that Thursday. The chef had a reputation for being difficult and quirky. I worried that bringing Galen along was a recipe for disaster, but Preston was surprisingly accepting of the situation.

Wednesday night, I packed a suitcase for both of us. We left early Thursday morning in my ‘50s era black Chevy pickup. While taking my classic truck wasn’t my first choice, Alannah needed her Jeep to haul a horse trailer later that afternoon. The drive down went remarkably well. Galen took his first anti-anxiety pill when we stopped for a bathroom break. We arrived at the restaurant mid-morning, and I was lucky enough to find a close parking space.

Galen clung to me as we entered the restaurant. I could feel him trembling and patted his hand. A man dressed in a black suit with matching slicked back hair approached us. “May I help you, gentlemen?”

I smiled and replied, “I’m Joshua Rhiordan here to see Chef Preston.”

“Yes, sir. Chef is expecting you. Please follow me.” He led us to a U-shaped booth in the back of the restaurant and gestured for us to have a seat. “I will let Chef know you’re here.”

Galen squeezed right up against me. He gripped my left hand tightly, while his right arm wrapped around my waist. I squeezed his hand. “You’re doing great, Galen. Just let me know if you’d like another anti-anxiety pill. There’s about another half hour before your next dose, but I think it’d be OK if you took it now.”

“Mr. Rhiordan!” A young man strode toward us, grinning. He was the definition of a modern hipster. He wore blue jeans with a checked flannel shirt tucked in, covered by a vest, and suspenders. The rolled-up sleeves showed off his heavily-tattooed forearms. His black hair was slicked back—long in the front and shaved on the sides—and he sported a handlebar mustache with waxed, curled ends. He held out his hand.

“Chef Preston, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I shook his hand. Galen slunk even farther behind me. He peeked over my shoulder, like a child hiding behind a parent, and eyed the chef suspiciously.

“The pleasure is mine. I’ve been a big fan of your work for years. You might say you’re one of my major influences.”

I smiled. “I’m flattered.” I looked at Galen. “This is my friend, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you, Galen. Love the name.” He held out his hand. Galen clung to me even tighter. I squirmed since his grip on me was now uncomfortable. Chef Preston raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand. “Can I have a word with you in private, Mr. Rhiordan?”

“Please, call me Josh.” I moved to slide out of the booth, but Galen pulled me back. “I’ll be right back, Galen. You’ll be fine here. We’ll just be right over there. You’ll still be able to see me.”

Galen looked at me doubtfully, but relinquished his grip and nodded. I slid out of the booth and followed Preston a short distance. His stiff gait and straight back made me wary of what he was about to say. He stopped and turned abruptly, arms crossed. His face was twisted into a scowl. “What the hell were you thinking bringing him here?”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m sorry… but I did ask permission and explained his issues to you.”

“First of all, why weren’t you honest with me? You could have told me you were bringing your boyfriend. Second of all, it’s clear he’s in a very bad place right now. He’s not in any condition to be travelling. You know… people come first over jobs. I have to say, I’ve lost a lot of respect for you.”

I stared at him, floored by his response. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. He’s not my boyfriend. It’s… complicated. And I tried leaving him behind, but he insisted on coming with me. I explained about the PTSD on the phone. We can leave if you’re not comfortable with him being here. I’m sorry.”

“Josh?” The rise in pitch in Galen’s voice alerted me to his distress. I looked over at the booth to see one of the wait staff standing in front of Galen. I rushed over and slid into the booth next to him.

“If this is too much for you, we can go,” I stated. “Mason will just have to get over it.”

Galen shook his head. “I’ll stay.”

I leaned back against the booth. I was regretting making this trip with every fiber of my being. I wondered if I could make enough money off the farm income alone. “This was a mistake,” I muttered.

Galen slid his hand into mine. “I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be OK. I don’t want you to lose your job because of me.”

“Is everything OK?” asked Preston.

Galen looked at me, then at him, and nodded.

“I know what it’s like to deal with anxiety. I used to have it so bad I couldn’t leave the house. You know, I gave your… friend… a lot of grief about bringing you here. But he tells me it was your idea.”

Galen nodded again.

“Well, all right then. I hope you two are hungry.”

I exhaled in relief. “I don’t know about Galen, but I know I am.”

Preston grinned. “Wonderful! I’m going to cook for you myself. Please join me, and I’ll give you a tour of the kitchen.”

I left Galen in the booth with a book to read, then toured the state-of-the-art facility with Preston. The highlight was a large, wood-fired oven. Preston’s style of cuisine was French fusion, with a modern twist on old classics. As I watched him cook, I understood why he had requested me to do his interview. Our style of cooking was very similar.

I tried asking some questions while he was cooking, but he shushed me, stating he needed total focus on his craft. The sous chef behind him rolled his eyes, then turned bright red when he saw me looking at him. I winked, letting him know his secret was safe.

Chef Preston plated an appetizer of herbed walnut and citrus tapenade on a crostini, served with a quail egg on top. His presentation style was quite stunning. I snapped a photograph of the final product to go with the ones I had taken of him cooking. He had also prepared a dish of seared scallops served over a roasted corn relish. He shooed me into the dining room as the wait staff followed with the plates of food.

Preston sat across from Galen and me, practically hopping in his seat as he waited for us to try his creations. I picked up a crostini and bit into it. The tang of the olives and bright citrus note melded perfectly with the unctuous egg yolk. I smiled. “This is wonderful, Preston. The egg complements the tapenade perfectly.” I popped the rest of the concoction into my mouth.

I picked up a crostini and held it out to Galen. “Try this. I think you’ll like it.”

He took it from my hand, nibbled on an end, and set it down on the plate.

Preston scowled. “Doesn’t he like it? This is one of my most popular appetizers!”

“Please don’t take it personally. He doesn’t have much of an appetite. I have a hard time getting him to eat much of anything.”

Preston nodded. “Ah. I see. What is his favorite dish?”

“He likes meatloaf and mac and cheese.”

He laughed. “Old school. I like that.”

I sliced into a scallop with my fork and scooped some of the corn relish along with the bite of seafood into my mouth. I could see why this young man had been nominated for a James Beard award.

“This is delightful! You are very talented.”

Preston beamed from the compliment. “I will leave you to it and go prepare the main course.”

Galen and I finished the appetizers—mostly I did—while Preston retreated to the kitchen. He returned about twenty minutes later with a play on coq au vin for me and meatloaf and mac and cheese for Galen.

I couldn’t hide my smile at the thoughtful gesture. I decided right then I’d do whatever I could to help this talented young man’s career.

My interview with Chef Preston was one of the most memorable of my career. We talked for several hours about his culinary inspiration, why he chose to pursue a career in the culinary arts, and his general philosophy on life. The conversation flowed smoothly, and I found him to be absolutely delightful.

We left after observing dinner service. Preston embraced me and extended an invitation to return any time. He held out his hand to Galen, who shook it tentatively. He smiled, a touch of sadness coloring his eyes, and stated, “I wish you the best, Galen.”

Galen nodded, and we left the restaurant.

We arrived at the hotel close to ten o’clock. I was exhausted and looking forward to collapsing into bed. I pulled up in front of the hotel so I could take advantage of the valet parking service. The valet opened Galen’s door for him, and he practically jumped into my lap. If the gear shift hadn’t been in the way, I think he would have.

“It’s just the valet, Galen. It’s OK.” I exited the truck and walked around to the passenger door. The valet gave me a strange look.

“Sir?”

Galen stared at the brightly lit hotel entrance. A large group of well-dressed people walked through the doors, talking and laughing loudly. His eyes had a wide, unfocused look that usually meant a panic attack was imminent. His whole body trembled and he looked at me and shook his head. I exhaled in frustration.

“Galen, I’m exhausted. I can’t drive back tonight. Please, get out of the truck so we can check in.”

A boisterous laugh from one of the large groups of people caused Galen to jump and grab for me. I pulled my arm away. The hurt look on Galen’s face made me feel like an asshole.

“Oh my God… Galen… please. You trust me, right? Then please just get out of the truck.”

Galen’s breath had dissolved into heaving gasps as the panic attack worsened. No thanks to me.

“All right… relax. I’ll get some coffee and we’ll head home.” I looked at the valet and ran my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. I guess we’ll be cancelling our reservation. It’s under Rhiordan. Joshua.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll take care of that for you,” the valet replied.

I jogged around to the driver’s side and slid into the truck. Galen immediately latched onto me and sighed. The tension in his body lessened, and he lay his head on my shoulder. I pulled out into traffic and set the GPS to home.