Double Concerto - 22. Nocturne

Rick peered forward in the darkness. He steered Caroline Lee’s Subaru homeward over the same back roads he had driven over earlier in the day. This time, he took the journey more carefully than before; deer were always a hazard, and he was tired.

But it was a good kind of tired. From the moment he’d risen to this moment in the summer night, he’d worn a smile on his face, or so it seemed. Rick hadn’t felt so contented, so happy in years.

Apart from the noise of the road and whine of the engine, peace reigned. Beside him, Gus appeared to be dozing. In the rear seat, Marta leaned her head on Jared’s shoulder, eyes closed. Jared snoozed also, with Joey on his right, fallen asleep on the older boy.

The silence wasn’t oppressive. It allowed Rick the chance to reflect on just what a wonderful day he’d experienced.

He’d spent hours in the company of a man who fascinated him, who made him smile, and who allowed him to let his own carefully maintained defenses down. Though he knew nothing about music, Gus had helped him enjoy everything he’d heard. They had talked about the performers and their music and what they liked or didn’t. Not once did he feel the pianist had talked down to him.

“We’re together,” Gus had said.

Together. That one word carried enough weight to take all the air out of him, to leave him floating, if only for a moment, on a cloud. At the same time, Rick had a hard time believing in the friendship developing between them. Such things didn’t happen to him. He had made lots of business acquaintances, but few – very few – real friends, and none for whom he harbored the kind of single-minded attraction he experienced now. It seemed too good to be true.

As the shadows lengthened at the music festival, Gus had insisted they head into the hamlet of Daffodil to see about getting something to eat. Rick happily agreed when Gus expressed a desire for a meal not purchased from a concession stand. However, the two eateries in town were both packed, as their little group weren’t the only festival-goers with that idea.

Along with a number of others, they put their names in for a table, probably the only time of the year the little restaurant ever had a line. Until it was ready, they had wandered the few streets in the village of Daffodil.

Off the main drag, there were no sidewalks; Gus and Rick had ambled in the street behind the teens, the sun-heated asphalt giving off the warmth of the day as the air cooled.

“It’s been a beautiful day.” The pianist commented.

“Yeah. It has.” Rick agreed. “The weather held; this wouldn’t be much fun in the rain.”

“No, I mean I’ve had a fantastic time. With you. You were so nice to do this.”

Rick smiled. “Today was terrific. You’ve shown me a world I never knew about.”

“It was worth the trip then? Getting up early and all that?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

They passed a shaded yard where an adolescentboy threw a toy for an enthusiastic black Labrador. Gus watched the scene, as the dog galloped over the grass, ears flapping, only to come to a tumbling stop over its toy.

“See? Something like that’s out of a picturebook.” The pianist’s tone was wistful.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Better than any painting in the Institute.”

“Where?”

“The Art Institute in Chicago.”

“That a big museum in the city?”

“You’ve never been there?”

“No. Never been out of Wisconsin.” Rick admitted with a rueful half-smile.

They turned at a street corner and walked along in front of a row of houses.

“I go there sometimes. To the Art Institute, I mean.”

“Is it a long way from your place in Chicago?”

“No. I can walk there. I don’t even get lost,” Gus laughed.

“It must be nice having something like that so close.”

“It is. When I want to clear my head, it’s a good place to be.”

“Sure. But I also meant that you’re lucky to be so near acquainted with beauty. Not only do you make music, you can see some of the most incredible art whenever you want.”

Gus shook his head. “I think you’re pretty well off here. This is some of the loveliest country I’ve ever seen. And I’ve never experienced life like this before.”

Rick had turned his head to take in the modest homes and trees with branches arching over the street. “It’s just summer. Nothing special.”

“Maybe not to you. But it has been to me.”

They turned left again as the group made its way back toward the restaurant.

Rick pondered what his companion had said. It had been a memorable summer. But that was because of Gus himself, not anything else.

The white-painted bulk of a steepled church loomed ahead where the side street joined the main artery of the village.

“You can call me crazy, but there’s something about the stark, simple lines of a little church like this,” Gus commented.

“It’s just a church.”

“I’ve performed in exquisite cathedrals all over Europe, toured Hindu and Buddhist temples, but the simplicity and elegance of these places is unique.”

Rick had shrugged. “Been a long time since I’ve been inside one.”

He remembered walking on a little further. Gus had peered at the sign in front of the church. It one of those modern, internally lit signs, the kind with interchangeable black letters. Trinity Lutheran Church, it proclaimed.

Rick read the current message on the sign. Something had stirred within; an idea blossomed and grew in an instant.

“I’m getting hungry,” Joey had said, interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s go back and see if we can eat yet.”

The group had headed back toward the restaurant.

 

 

Rick’s immediate train of thought was broken for a moment. A turn was coming up; he braked early and carefully, trying not to wake the sleepers sharing the ride home with him. The stars were out. He thought he could see Cygnus, the Swan, flying in the Milky Way off to the west. He let the car idle longer than necessary at the lonely stop sign, while he watched the stars twinkle and shine back at him through the windshield.

“Oh, hey.” Gus stirred. “Sorry, I dropped off.”

“Not a problem,” said Rick, speaking softly. “It’s been a long day.”

“Where are we?”

“Middle of nowhere, east of Antler.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Nope. Just looking at the stars.”

Gus leaned forward and gazed up through the glass. “Wow. They’re beautiful.”

Rick smiled. “Yeah.”

“They’re fantastic. And so many!”

Rick nodded, but said nothing as the two men gazed at the night sky.

“There isn’t much in the sky you can see in Chicago; too much light.”

“Glad I could show you some, then.”

“I don’t know anything about the constellations. Do you?”

“A little. My mom taught me.”

“Amazing.” Gus breathed. “They look like they’re dancing. Can you teach me?”

“What, to dance? I think you can do that pretty well.”

Gus lowered his gaze and looked back at Rick. “And that’s another thing I have to thank you for.”

“What?” Rick wore a smirk but kept his voice low.

“You suggesting we go back to that church for their dance. That was brilliant.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The way you convinced Joey to give it a try during supper. It took his mind off pestering his sister. I swear, they don’t need their phones or computers, just each other – they can amuse themselves by fighting all day long.”

Rick chuckled. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Gus shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be hard to get Jared and Marta interested, but Joey can be a handful. He hates things that aren’t familiar.”

Rick put the car back in gear and made the turn. “I think we’re all that way sometimes. Familiar is safe.”

“Well, I’m glad we went. I haven’t been dancing in ages, and this was completely new.”

“You never did any of that stuff in phys ed classes?”

“Oh, no. Remember, my school years were spent with masters of the piano – or meeting minimum core academic requirements. It wasn’t until Juilliard that I got into a yoga class and took dance.”

“Who’s Juilliard?”

“That’s the name of the music school in New York I went to for college.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Why? There’s no need. Anyway, dance at Juilliard wasn’t anything like contradancing in the Lutheran Church basement.”

“No? What was it like?”

“It was a beginner’s class for non-majors. It emphasized movement, rhythm, and flexibility.”

“Oh. Not folk dancing.”

Gus laughed. “Definitely not.”

There was a pause, a comfortable quiet. When Rick had proposed the contradance to the group, he’d hoped Gus would go for it. He had wanted some reason, some excuse, to extend their time together. When the other man rapidly agreed, his heart had soared.

The car rounded a curve in the highway; the tires hummed a bit louder.

“I’m surprised even Joey had a good time.” Rick murmured.

“Having a dance caller giving instructions helped.”

“That, and a couple of other kids his own age hanging around.”

“I wanted to wring his neck for disappearing.”

Partway through the event, Gus had noticed Joey missing from the church basement. Rick and Gus had missed a couple of dances looking for the boy.

“We really shouldn’t have worried. He was just being a kid, hanging out in the church parking lot with his new friends.” Rick remembered doing something like that himself as a youngster. He’d always been the boy on the fringe, watching.

“I know you’re probably right. But they’re not my children, and hanging out is not in Magda’s or Zoltan’s vocabulary. They drive their kids the way they did me when I was that age.”

Rick frowned. “You mean they’re doing all those special classes and schooling like you did?”

“No, no. Marta and Joey go to a normal school, if the big-time prep school they go to can be called that. But Magda takes them to private performance lessons all week. Part of the reason I’m here this summer is to keep the pressure on both of them, especially Marta. Zoltan has big plans for her: Juilliard, Yale, or USC, then on to a post with the Berlin or Vienna Philharmonic.”

“Is that what she wants?” Rick was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Gus’ humorless snort confirmed his suspicion. “No. It isn’t that she has no talent; she does. In my role as coach, glorified referee and professional nag, I can see that much. Anyone could. And Magda seems to appreciate that my tutoring has made her relationship with her daughter that much better, if nothing else. But I think Marta’s interests lie elsewhere.”

“Yeah. You’re right about that.” He gestured with his head toward the rear seats.

“That’s not what I was saying. That girl is fascinated by anything mechanical; she wants to know how everything works.” Gus paused. “Though I agree, they are cute.”

Rick nodded and grinned. “I bet finding a redheaded hockey player wasn’t in Zoltan’s plan for her, either.”

“God, no. I’m not sure what would horrify him more, Jared’s proletarian roots, or the distraction he represents.”

“I’m sorry if I did wrong by asking him to come.”

“Don’t be. It’s good to watch them being kids, even if it means feeling like a chaperone for some girlfriend-boyfriend stuff.”

Rick didn’t voice his own thoughts. He wished he and Gus could share something like what the teens had. He tried to shake off those thoughts; he knew he ought to be grateful just for the man’s friendship.

He deflected the conversation. “I think they danced every dance together.”

“You did passably well, yourself. That big woman with the braids was your partner how many times?”

There was something in Gus’ tone that Rick couldn’t read.

“I don’t know. A bunch.”

“She didn’t want to let you go.”

“I danced with other people. They made us change up, remember?”

“I know. She was my partner a couple of times, too.”

“There weren’t too many men there, I noticed,” Rick said.

“You’re right. That must be why you were in such demand.”

“Me? You were the popular one. Did you ever get a rest?”

“You mean when we weren’t out hunting for Joey? We both sat out the Virginia Reel.”

“I was worn out from that Acadian thing.” Rick smiled. “But I had fun doing it.”

Gus chuckled softly. “Yes. We both did.”

Rick’s smile widened.

“Besides, I needed to work off some of our dinner,” Gus asserted.

“Me too. That was some hamburger.”

“It was enormous. I got one too, remember? I don’t know how I managed to choke it down. And those fries were perfect.”

“All that wandering around the festival worked up an appetite.”

“I completely agree.”

You sure you’re okay to drive?” Gus asked. “Not that I could take over for you.”

“I’m fine. You can keep me awake, enjoying your company.”

There was silence again, long enough that Rick realized his passenger might have taken his last statement amiss. He’d said exactly what he felt, but he understood with a sickening turn of his stomach that Gus might not have appreciated his honesty. Rick glanced to his right. For a moment, he caught Gus’s grin in the darkened car. Their eyes locked; Rick saw no hostility, only warmth. Rick swallowed and breathed again in relief.

He turned again to the road.

“Oh, shit!” Rick slammed his foot on the brake, throwing everything forward; the little car juddered to a sudden stop.

In the middle of the road stood a deer, transfixed and immobile. Its eyes glowed eerily in the glare of the headlights.

Adrenaline coursed through Rick’s system.

“You okay?” Gus asked.

“It’s fine. Just a stupid deer.”

Inwardly, Rick cursed himself for driving so carelessly. He knew deer were a regular road hazard; why hadn’t he been more careful? They were lucky nobody had been hurt.

He and Gus stared back at the creature.

“Why doesn’t it run away?” asked Gus in a hushed tone.

“It’s blinded by the light. It can’t see. Its eyes will adjust eventually.” Rick turned to his passenger; he watched the man staring at the deer through the windshield. He wondered if Gus knew what was going on in his mind. Did Gus feel anything of the yearning Rick had for him?

For some reason, he swiveled his head. Their eyes met. “Thanks.”

“What, for almost hitting a deer?”

Gus blinked and smiled. “No. For this – for the stars, for the deer, for the whole beautiful day.”

Rick gazed back. For an instant, he wondered what might happen if he leaned over the center console to chance a kiss. Jared and Marta had done it; why not him?

He remembered wanting to kiss one of his obsessions; what was his name? Rudy? He’d had his chance in the parking lot outside that bar in Menomonie. But he’d let it pass. A few years later, Rick had told Marshall about it, who laughed at him.

“Sweetie, wallflowers only get kissed in fairytales.”

A stirring in the back seat broke into his memories.

“What happened?” Marta called out, her voice thick with sleep.

“Is everything okay?” Jared asked.

“There’s no problem. Just a deer in the road.”

“Looks like a doe,” Jared commented, leaning forward.

“Oh! Look – over there!” Marta cried out, pointing past Rick’s ear.

In the high grass on the right-hand side of the road, two more sets of eyes shone. Rick could just make out narrow faces and oversized ears; these were the youngsters, probably born in late May.

Eventually, the deer seemed to regain some of its eyesight. It turned away and ambled to the farther side of the road. The two little ones cautiously ventured out of their cover and onto the pavement. Their white spotted coats rippled in the brilliant light.

“They’re adorable,” said Gus.

Rick had his own opinions about deer but held his tongue. He’d had enough encounters on the roads with these creatures that their cuteness had worn off somewhat.

“Those ears. They’re enormous.” Marta added.

A moment later, the fawns followed their mother into the woods on the other side of the road.

“That was beautiful.” Gus sighed.

“Not something you see very often?”

Gus shook his head and looked a little embarrassed. “I never seen one. Not in real life.”

Somehow, Rick felt pleased.

“I have,” Marta said. “But not this close.”

“What about you, Joey?” Rick asked.

There was no response from the boy, however.

He turned in his seat.

Joey was still sound asleep in the back. Though the emergency stop had shifted him off of Jared, it apparently had failed to waken him.

“Guess he’s out cold,” Jared observed.

“Thank God for small favors,” his sister muttered.

“He’s had a tiring day. We all have.” Gus smiled.

Rick nodded. “That’s for sure.” He put the car in gear again.

They traveled homeward in a more wakeful kind of stillness.

When the car turned west at Lake Neptune, Gus broke the silence. “Look at the light on the water.”

Rick spared a glance to see silver light dancing on the calm surface of the lake. “I never get tired of seeing that,” he commented with a smile.

“You’re so lucky. Now I know how Beethoven’s Sonata 14 got its name.”

Now that they were on the main highway into Eagle Lake, Rick could accelerate a little.

“Not too far from home now.”

“How long?” Marta asked.

“Under a half hour.” Rick didn’t want the evening to end. He wished for a limitless horizon, a ceaseless supply of moonlit nights, and sunny days with Gus.

The miles and minutes ticked by without pity on his desires, however.

When the turn neared for the North Shore Road, Rick spoke up. “Jared, should I drive you home now, or after I drop off the others?”

Maybe he could extend his time with Gus a few minutes longer.

“You can drive me home after,” returned the redhead.

Rick sighed. It was not to be.

There was very little traffic out on the winding road back to Cedarcrest. Even though nearly all of the summer homes by the water were now occupied, most everyone was in bed, and few houses showed any lights.

Rick pulled in at the lodge driveway. Funny how he had no trouble finding the turn now, even in the dark. The little car negotiated the narrow way far more easily than his van had done just a few weeks back, before Gus. The house loomed up in the headlights’ glare as gravel crunched under the tires. Rick braked and switched off the engine.

Doors opened, and the weary party unfolded itself from the confines of the Subaru. Joey emerged, somewhat refreshed from his long nap. Marta and Jared stood by the taillights, speaking in low voices.

“I’ll leave the lights on so you can see to unlock the door.” Rick told Gus.

“Thank you.”

Gus hastened over. After a moment or two fumbling with the keys, the kitchen door swung open. Gus entered the house; a light over the doorway came alive, then more within.

Joey ran indoors, following Gus, letting the screen door slam after him. Marta moved slowly toward the house in his wake, while Jared walked over to Rick.

“I’m um, gonna go inside for a second, to use the bathroom. That okay?” The teen asked.

“Yeah. Fine.”

The taller boy ambled over to the door, where the girl waited for him. They disappeared into the house. Rick reached inside the car and turned off the headlights. They weren’t needed anymore. Somehow, he felt empty. Alone in the driveway, he craned his neck up to see the stars again; even their brilliance seemed to have faded a little.

The kitchen door opened again.

It wasn’t Jared; it was Gus.

“Still gazing at the stars?”

“I guess so.”

Gus looked up. “What’s that bright one, right overhead?” He pointed.

Rick’s gaze followed the brown, sinewed arm and elegant finger. “I think that’s Vega. I could be wrong, though.”

When Gus dropped his arm, Rick suddenly became aware of how close they stood together.

Their eyes met; Gus looked as mysterious as the deep, dark sky; as warm as a summer afternoon.

“Thank you for a wonderful day. ‘Nice’ seems inadequate,” Rick said.

Gus smiled briefly, then closed the distance between them and kissed Rick; just a soft, quick contact on the lips. Just enough to make the night more brilliant than a thousand suns.

Enough to leave Rick stunned, motionless and elated all at once.

“Oh, my God, I was wrong, wasn’t I?” Gus gasped. “I’m so sorry. I –" For a moment, they were still.

Then it was Rick who drew Gus closer, embracing the shorter man as their lips met again, years of longing distilled into this one moment. Gus’ tongue probed, Rick opened for him, welcomed its exploration in his mouth, tasting and devouring, deepening the kiss.

He heard Gus make a delighted kind of noise; long fingers played in the hair at the back of his head.

His own hands swept up and down Gus’ back and neck, holding him so very close.

The sounds of the night returned to Rick’s ears as they parted for air, but neither let the other go.

“No. No, you weren’t wrong at all,” Rick said, trying to steady the heart hammering in his chest. “I wanted this since the moment I saw you.”

They kissed again. They were less urgent now; Rick noted how Gus smelled of sun and exertion; how he tasted of pepper and something else he couldn’t define. He reveled in the other man’s touch, even in the clunky embrace of the cast rubbing on his back.

“Uncle Gus! Uncle Gus!” Joey’s voice carried out to them from somewhere inside the huge house with youthful insistence.

Gus and Rick broke apart.

“Uncle Gus!” The boy appeared at the screen door.

“What is it, Joey?”

“Marta and Jared! They’re kissing again!”