Great Restorations - 12. Chapter 12

SAWYER watched Marc trudge up the stairs, hand trailing behind on the banister, and another wave of guilt swamped him. He should‘ve answered the phone. He should‘ve known something was wrong. But all he‘d been concerned about was work. And getting laid. That part shouldn‘t be forgotten, either.

He‘d promised Marc he would take care of the guests, and he would. But first…. He sank onto the steps. Elbows on his knees, he massaged his temples. Until he could get past the knowledge that he‘d screwed up, and screwed up badly, he wasn‘t going to have it in him to be diplomatic. Or even polite. That he hadn‘t been cited for speeding on the drive over counted as a minor miracle. All he could think about was getting to Marc, but now that he was here, the inadequacy that had been plaguing him grew.

“Sawyer?”

The soft, feminine voice brought him out of his daze. He peeked between his fingers, then nearly groaned. “Hi, Rachel,” he said, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Nice spread.”

Rachel shrugged. She took a seat two steps below Sawyer. “I did what I could. Food‘s my thing, you know.”

“And you‘re very good at it,” Sawyer felt compelled to say.

“Mmmm.” Reaching up to unfasten the clip at the nape of her neck, she said, “I didn‘t know. About you and Marc.”

Every muscle in Sawyer‘s body froze. Only his eyes moved, tracking Rachel‘s movements as she shook out her hair and tilted her head back against the wall.

“I’d say I feel stupid, but that’s really not the word for it. I’m not sure there is a word.” She rolled her head along the wall until their eyes were locked on one another. “Five years ago, I would’ve seen it way before today. Hell, I would’ve seen it by the second date, when all I got was a peck on the cheek. I’m not blind. Or at least…” She shook her head. “I didn’t use to be. But now… I’m so messed up, I can’t even put what I’m feeling into words. Words,” she said, with a sad smile, “aren’t my thing.”

“What happened?” He held both hands up when the words escaped before etiquette caught up. “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me. Sorry.”

“The usual, Sawyer. I grew up telling myself I’d never be one of those women, but then there I was. Taking the abuse like I deserved it. And spinning so many excuses for him, and for myself, that any therapist’s head would spin.”

“I’m truly sorry.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” She sighed and he did the same, and for a few minutes they both just sat silently with their thoughts. Rachel’s next words were soft, nothing more than a whisper of sound on her breath. “I’m happy for him,” she said. “For Marc. And you.”

Sawyer swallowed twice. “Thanks.”

“You know what hurts the most about all this?”

Could his mouth get any drier? Speechless, Sawyer shook his head.

“That I won‘t have a convenient hiding place anymore.” She sought his gaze again. Sawyer was no coward. He met her stare. “But that‘s pretty unfair to Marc, isn‘t it?”

“What is?” Sawyer croaked.

“Using him like that.”

For what, was Sawyer‘s instinctive question, but he quashed it. If she wanted to share with him, he’d let her. “I suppose,” he began slowly, “he was doing a bit of the same.” More than a bit, but that was as far as Sawyer was willing to bend.

Rachel shrugged. “I suppose.” She leaned over and patted his knee. “Even if we’ll never be a couple, we‘re still very good friends. Marc and me. I think you should know that.”

Sawyer sensed a trap. “Of course.”

“He was there for me when I needed a friend. A patient, understanding friend. It was hard to trust again, after what I went through, you know?”

Sawyer nodded. “You mean it’s hard to trust other people.”

“No,” Rachel said with a rueful laugh. “I mean it’s hard to trust myself. And Marc…he’s got a bit of the same, okay? Part of him is always going to be that little boy that wasn’t wanted, no matter how hard he tried to be perfect. Just keep that in mind.”

After some consideration, Sawyer acknowledged this with a nod.

“So forgive me for being cliché, but if you hurt him, you‘ll have me to answer to. And I‘m good for a little more than Miralax in your brownies.”

A rush of vertigo washed over Sawyer. Part relief, part fear. He held out his hand. Rachel took it, and they shook. “Does doing my best count for anything?” Sawyer asked, because in reality, Rachel already owed him one nasty poisoning.

A knowing smile broke over her face. “Did you mess up already?”

“Isn‘t that obvious?”

Rachel cocked her head. “I‘ll give you a freebie. But starting today”—she stood, smoothing her skirt over her knees— “watch yourself.”

Sawyer stood, taking her arm when she tried to move away. “Thank you. He never wanted to hurt you.”

“What about you?” she asked with a wink. “Did you ever want to hurt me?” He thought about it too long, and Rachel laughed. “I just bet you did.”

“I‘m not the jealous sort.”

“Sure you‘re not,” she said, rubbing at a bit of smudged mascara. “Where is he?”

Sawyer followed her gaze up the stairs. “Sleeping, hopefully.”

“Have him call me, okay? When he feels up to it. No rush.”

Sawyer slung his hands into his pockets, feeling self-conscious of his outfit for the first time since he‘d barged through the door, demanding to see Marc. “I‘ll tell him.”

In the kitchen beyond, a dish clattered to the floor, and they both craned their necks to look. The room had been tomb-silent a minute ago. Rachel smirked. “Time for Act Two.” She stepped forward and kissed Sawyer on the cheek. “Don’t sweat it,” she whispered. “You’re doing fine so far.”

Stunned, Sawyer didn‘t reply, and a moment later, she was gone, slipping out the back door.

Furious whispers brought Sawyer out of his daze. He slunk forward around the corner and into the kitchen. Reba saw him first. She smacked Karen, who was arguing quietly with Rick, and they both snapped to attention. Rick‘s face had turned red. Karen‘s blush was more becoming, but she was smiling. Tim was perched on the counter, gnawing a drumstick. He waved.

Karen cleared her throat. “Sawyer.”

Sawyer eyed the group. So this was how it was going to be. He braced himself. “Karen,” he said, adding a nod in Rick and Reba‘s direction, then in Tim‘s. Tim smirked back.

“Nice duds.” Reba waved at his running shorts. “Is that standard city attire for funerals?”

“I was in a hurry to get here.”

No one said anything, but Karen‘s eyes softened. In the end, adding yet another surprise to Sawyer‘s day, it was Tim who spoke. He waved the chicken leg at Sawyer. “So you and the boss, huh?” He nodded and took another bite. “Cool.”

Sawyer could have kissed him. Probably not the best of ideas, considering the subject matter. He nodded with exaggerated slowness, so there was no mistake. “Thanks, Tim.” He turned to each of the others in turn. “Anybody else think it‘s cool?”

Karen stepped forward with a sigh. “Of course it’s fine. I never said anything. I had a feeling you were trying to keep it on the downlow, but it was kind of obvious.”

Sawyer blinked. “When was it obvious?”

“Anytime you two were within five feet of each other,” Karen said.

Reba snorted.

“And it’s not an issue for me, in any way, shape or form,” Karen finished, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Me either,” Reba piped in. “I already knew, anyway.”

Three down, one to go. Sawyer turned to Rick, who sputtered, “I’m thinking, damn it! And”—he spun to Reba, pointing one beefy finger in her face— “what do you mean, you knew? How could you know? You knew? What the fuck, Reba?”

“Oh, please.” Doing her best to be as condescending as possible, Sawyer was sure, she said, “I‘m the mother of two boys.”

Rick spread his hands. “What difference does that make? I’m a boy.”

“Astute self-diagnosis,” Karen muttered.

“And I didn‘t know,” Rick finished.

“Don‘t feel bad,” Reba soothed. “You‘re blind to everything that doesn‘t involve your dick.”

“Which this most definitely does not,” Rick rushed to add.

Sawyer‘s head began to throb. “So what are you saying, Rick?” His patience was near its end. All he wanted was to be upstairs with Marc.

Rick paced the length of the kitchen once, then again. Reba and Karen watched, Karen with anxious eyes and Reba with the narrow-eyed gaze of hers that always sent Sawyer fleeing. That woman was dangerous. Rick better know what was at stake.

Tim gestured Sawyer closer, then handed him a piece of chicken. Rachel‘s chicken. Sawyer smiled as he bit into it. It tasted better than he remembered. “Rick?” he prompted after he‘d savored the first bite.

Rick paced some more. “Does someone wanna say out loud to my face why nobody mentioned this to me, since it was apparently common fucking knowledge?”

Reba laid a hand over her heart. “Maybe because we knew you’d react like this? Just throwing it out there.”

“Oh, you know what? Fuck you, Reba. Fuck all of you.” He stopped in front of the door, hands on his hips. “Don‘t assume how I feel. Even if you’re super fucking positive you already know.” His even tone made Sawyer pause, chicken halfway to his mouth. “Just… have some faith in me every once in a while for Christ’s sake.”

No one else seemed inclined to speak, so Sawyer did. “That sounds fair to me.”

“I‘m so glad you approve,” Rick drawled, sarcasm back in spades. “Gotta go.” He pushed through the screen door and into the backyard.

Sawyer watched the door swing back into place. He tossed his chicken bone into the garbage can. “That didn‘t go so badly.”

The only one to appreciate his flippancy, Tim laughed.

“We should go talk to him,” Karen suggested.

“No.” Enough was enough, and Sawyer hadn‘t forgotten his mission. “Give him some time. In the meantime, help me clear these people out of the house, please.”

Karen gaped, scandalized. “Sawyer, these people are here to pay respect to the dead.”

Biting back the unkind retort that sprang to his lips, Sawyer turned to Reba for help. “You saw him, right? He‘s a mess.”

“I know,” came Reba‘s quiet reply.

“I‘m not trying to be disrespectful. I‘m just worried about Marc.”

“So am I,” she said, voice strained. She took hold of Karen‘s elbow. “It‘s been a few hours. There are one or two people I know who can pass the word discreetly. I think Sawyer has a point. I got a good look at Marc earlier, and he‘s barely holding it together.”

Karen pursed her lips. “Where is he now?”

“I sent him upstairs to lie down. He looked like he was about to fall over.” Sawyer rinsed his hands in the sink, then began collecting abandoned paper plates from the counter. “I‘m not really dressed to mingle. I‘ll stay here and clean up. And guys,” he said as Reba and Karen turned to go, “I, uh….” He tossed the stack of plates into the garbage with more force than necessary. “I should have been here this week. Thanks for taking care of him.”

Reba gave a little nod, but Karen shook her head. “He didn‘t ask to be taken care of. Mostly he dealt with it himself.”

Sawyer‘s stomach flipped. He rubbed his hand over it, regretting the few bites of chicken he‘d taken. There wasn‘t much to say to that. Just, “Okay. Well, thanks anyway.”

They slipped through the door, Reba first and Karen on her heels. Wordlessly, Tim fished out two fresh trash liners from beneath the kitchen sink and began to collect garbage. He didn‘t speak, and the beauty of his personality was that Sawyer felt no pressure to fill the silence. Out of all Marc‘s friends, Tim was the biggest question mark. His demeanor might lead one to believe he hadn‘t a care in the world, but Sawyer was beginning to wonder. Call it intuition.

They worked efficiently. Sawyer kept one ear tuned to the quiet conversations drifting in from the other room. Slowly, things began to quiet as one by one the guests departed.

“So,” he said to Tim after nearly twenty minutes of silence, “you knew about me and Marc?”

“Suspected.” Tim stretched a piece of cling wrap over a plate of deviled eggs.

Sawyer waited, then pursed his lips against his desire to smile. Tim was a man of few words. “So you had no idea about Marc before now.”

“Didn‘t say that.”

“You don‘t say much of anything.” Sawyer blew out an exasperated breath.

Tim threw him one of his trademark smirks. “The more you say, the more people start expecting you to say. First it‘s trading off opinions of American Idol, then deep discussions on politics.” He opened the fridge and began stacking covered dishes on the shelves. “Next thing you know,” he said, head still in the fridge, “they want to know when you‘re getting married and what you plan to do with the rest of your life. If you keep to yourself, the most they can say is that you‘re shy. Maybe ignorant.”

Sawyer began sponging off the countertop. “You don‘t strike me as either of those things.”

“No?”

“No. In fact” —their eyes met across the kitchen island— “I‘m pretty sure you knew Marc was gay.”

Tim slung his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Maybe.”

“And,” Sawyer waited a beat, beat back the surge of jealousy, and made an effort to keep his voice steady, “I think you‘ve been waiting for him to figure things out.”

The smile began on the left side of Tim‘s lips, twitching upward until he dipped his head, grinning openly. It was an easy expression, nonthreatening. Which was why Sawyer reined in the possessiveness that surged into his chest. “You‘re not denying it, I see.”

“Nope.” Tim‘s eyes strayed to the door that led to the living room, but it wasn‘t a furtive glance. His brows drew together and his lips pursed into a thoughtful expression. “But you can brush your jealousy aside, Sawyer. See, you‘re looking at things like they began a couple of months ago.”

Sawyer frowned. “They did.”

“Not for me.” Tim reached into the tub of ice by the back door and snagged two bottles of beer. He offered one to Sawyer. “Marc and I have been working together for four years. I‘ve had lots of time to both develop and get over my feelings for him. He‘s a good friend. Hell, he‘s my best friend. And that‘s a more important relationship to me, by far, than lover.”

“He never knew how you felt,” Sawyer said quietly.

“And never will,” Tim replied, pointing his bottle in Sawyer‘s direction.

Sawyer tipped his beer in return, then cleared his throat. “So you‘re gay?”

“I hate labels,” Tim said, pulling his ponytail tighter. “It’s mostly false advertising. Let‘s just say I‘m a free spirit. All genders welcome.”

Sawyer snorted. “I know someone just like you. Do you remember Bruce?”

They finished their beers while Sawyer sang Bruce‘s praises. As he was dropping the empty bottles into the trash on top of the paper plates, Karen pushed through the door. She made a show of swooning against the wall, and Tim snorted. “Oh, please. I had the hard job, listening to Sawyer go on and on about Marc‘s dreamy eyes.”

“What?” Sawyer shot Tim a dirty look. “Liar.”

Karen straightened with a sniff. “So you don‘t think his eyes are dreamy?”

“I—wait.”

“I‘m going to tell him you said that.” She winked at Tim.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Since when did this become like the fifth grade?”

“Since Rick left.” Tim patted Sawyer‘s shoulder. “Usually it‘s like the third grade. But since our esteemed colleague is off dealing with a sudden pressing threat to his manhood, we‘re able to raise the bar.”

Karen stepped out of her heels and padded over, untwisting her chignon. She shook out her hair and tossed it over her left shoulder. “I‘m going to have one of those Amstels. If anybody has any objections to seeing a lady chug a beer, you better leave now.”

“Hell, girl.” Tim screwed off the metal cap. It went with a hiss, and he handed it over. “I used to pay money in college to see such things. And you‘re going to give it away for free?”

“Watch and learn, Tonto,” Karen said, tipping the bottle to her lips.

Reba crashed through the door halfway through Karen‘s show. “Did you save one of those for me?”

Sawyer handed her the last one. “I can‘t thank you enough for taking care of that.”

“No problem.” Reba blew her bangs off her forehead. “Now can I go home and get out of these fancy clothes? God, Karen, how can you bear to wear this crap every day?”

Karen hiccupped. “It‘s a living.” She set down the empty bottle. “Okay, guys, let‘s clear out and let Sawyer do his thing.”

Reba and Tim snickered.

With a groan, Sawyer dropped his head into his hands.