Blue Skies. Robyn Carr
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offering an opportunity to keep them from just licking their wounds and medicating their hangovers. She asked if they were up to helping her go through Drake’s clothes and other personal items. “I dread it,” she told them. “School’s going to be out soon and I have to get this behind us. I could use the company.”
“You sure we won’t just be in the way?” Dixie asked. “It’s a mighty emotional thing for kids.”
“I told the kids to think about what they’d like to keep—sentimental things, like watches and cuff links and stuff. The rest, they understand, is going to go to people who can use it. I’m going to get as much of it cleared out as possible while they’re at school.”
“Of course we’ll help you, sugar,” Dixie said. “The three of us. Just like old times. We’ll meet you over there in an hour.” When she hung up, she said to Carlisle, “She needs us more than we need to feel sorry for ourselves. Now, are you going to stay here with me for a while?”
“If you’re sure it’s okay…”
“It’s not only okay, if you go back home I’ll be very disappointed in you.”
So Carlisle went around the corner to his town house to pack a bag while Robert was at work. He looked around the home they’d shared these past three years. You’d think Robert would have left a note or something, but he hadn’t even picked up his dirty clothes or wiped out the sink. He left the scut work for Carlisle…and Carlisle always did it.
He drove his car around the corner to store in Dixie’s garage, and when he pulled into her drive, she was putting the bags full of clothes out on the curb for pickup. This had been the fourth time in the past year that Carlisle had packed a bag to leave Robert. In his heart he hoped he would be strong enough and smart enough not to go back this time.
Of course, he had a long history of running away. Once he got to college, he had gone home to Anoka, Minnesota, as seldom as possible. He had no siblings, and his straitlaced religious parents were not just openly disapproving of gays, they were downright hostile. Carlisle was afraid they’d pick up on clues that would have been obvious years before to anyone else.
But they hadn’t. Carlisle was a twenty-six-year-old fifth-grade teacher when he finally told them the truth, and they acted exactly as he had feared—stunned and angry. “But you went to the prom!” was his mother’s first shocked and disbelieving cry. Mothers who were worried that their sons were gay always hung on to that prom date as confirmation that their worst fears were unfounded.
Then they told him not to discuss that filth around them again until he had examined all his options. Options? Like rehabilitation. There was a church in Minneapolis that was having great success helping gays return to a straight life.
Carlisle often wondered how you could “return” to a straight life. When had he ever been straight? He had no memory of it.
He seemed to be able to have a superficial, somewhat loving relationship with his mother, Ethel, as long as they never broached the subject of homosexuality. But this was hard for Ethel, who always wanted to know if he was still gay.
His father, on the other hand, was barely civil. It was with great sadness that Carlisle had left his teaching job and the Midwest ten years ago to fly for Aries, but he got the distinct impression that his parents were relieved to have him so far away. He visited rarely, and when he did, his father had nothing to say to him. There was no way he would ever introduce anyone in his family to a partner. Carlisle knew he was referred to as the Gay Cousin, and while a couple of his aunts sent Christmas cards and occasional notes, no one bothered to keep him posted on family events, probably fearful he might attend.
But then came the real deal breaker, the events of 9/11. Although there had not been an Aries jet involved, airline employees often traveled on other airlines using nonrevenue passes—a professional courtesy. His parents couldn’t know for certain that he wasn’t on one of the hijacked planes, whereas Carlisle had talked to his mother the previous month and knew they had no travel plans and were tucked safely away in Anoka.
As it happened, Carlisle had been in New York on a layover and was stranded by the grounding of all aircraft. He had watched the plume of smoke that grayed the city and wept his heart out at what was happening to the world. Dixie had been in D.C. and Nikki in Boston, and it had taken a couple of days for their cell phones to work properly so they could be certain of one another’s safety.
When his parents saw those huge planes smash into the towers, killing thousands of people, did they not think, “Where is Carlisle? Could he have been on one of those planes? Is he okay?”
They had never called. No one had called. Not his parents, aunts or cousins.
That’s when he realized they weren’t just annoyed with him for being gay. They simply didn’t care about him at all.
Because of that, whenever he and his two best friends groused about their loneliness, Carlisle felt he was the most alone of all.
Ever since Nikki had left the house she’d lived in as Drake’s wife, she had felt a little strange driving up to it. The feeling was even more pronounced now that he was dead and she was a guest in this house that belonged to the bank.
Buck had convinced the children to stay at his house while Nikki was away on her flight, and he had driven them to and from school. It was just too much to expect him to move into Drake’s house; Buck used to seethe each time he had to pick up the kids there. But today after school they would return to this house that had been their home.
Dixie and Carlisle were parked at the curb, waiting for her. They had several hours left before the kids would be home from school.
“I really don’t know what to do with this house,” Nikki said to her friends as they met on the driveway. “There’s not a dime of equity in it and the kids really like the neighborhood and schools, so it makes sense to just live here with them. But for me…?”
“Too many bad memories?” Carlisle asked.
“More than I can count. Plus, thanks to Drake’s poor planning, the mortgage payment is horrendous.”
“They say don’t make any big changes right after a death,” Dixie advised.
“If they had been needled and ridiculed by Drake for a dozen or so years, they might not have said that.”
“I know, sugar, but if you’re patient, just hang around here a little while, and maybe somethin’ will turn up nearby. It might be easier for the kids if you didn’t have to change neighborhoods, at least.”
Since Drake’s death, the master bedroom had been closed off. Now she had to go in there and sort out the remains of his life. She left the clothes to Dixie and Carlisle, while she bit the bullet and opened up his desk, filing cabinets, strongbox and safe. Although she had nurtured the secret hope that she would find some hidden stash that would take care of educations, at least, so far there was nothing. What she did find was debt, and evidence of stock trading. The market hadn’t been good to Drake, and he’d borrowed against his 401K and house. He bought on the margin, sold short and lost his shirt.
With Dixie and Carlisle helping, it didn’t take all that long to get rid of Drake’s personal effects, but going through his paperwork was something Nikki had to do on her own, and it would take more than a couple of days. Resigning herself to that fact, Nikki hunkered down for a long, hot summer in her ex’s house.
But after a couple of weeks, it became harder, rather than easier, to be at the house. Nikki took the kids out for most of their meals rather than cook in Drake’s kitchen. And no way could she move back into the master bedroom.
Then April said the magic words. “I hate being here because Dad died here. I wish there was a way we could start over completely.”
Oh, boy, was there ever. Nikki had the kids pack up their favorite things plus clothes, computer, books and games. She called the real estate agent and listed the house, and they all moved to Buck’s.