Chapter Eleven
Emery
Icouldn’t help but worry about Mason the rest of the day.
Even though he was napping and probably going to be just fine, there was a part of me that wanted to check on him every ten minutes to be sure he was doing okay.
I did grab a couple of bottles of water and leave them on the nightstand for him, but there wasn’t much else I could do to help.
Instead of spinning out, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand.
I folded the laundry I’d washed, putting a show on my phone to watch while I worked.
It helped keep me distracted and soon enough, the linens were folded and ready to be tucked away into linen closets.
I let myself finish the show I was watching before telling myself it was time to get up and do something productive again.
There wasn’t much I could do in terms of repairs, not alone, but I could start the demolition required to replace the drywall.
There were two bedrooms and a bathroom that would need walls repaired, and Mason had explained to me the night before what needed to be done.
I felt reasonably confident that I knew what to do and could handle it myself.
At the very least, I knew I couldn’t really make things worse, so I got a hammer and a crowbar and headed to the back bedroom to get to work.
As I stepped into the room, I realized that while we’d taken out most of the furniture, we hadn’t checked the closet for clothes or damage.
I sighed, tossed the hammer and crowbar down near the wall that needed to be ripped out, and opened the closet door.
Inside, I was greeted by a mostly empty space, except for a small fireproof safe at the top of the closet.
“That’s weird. What are you doing here?” I asked the safe. Unfortunately, it didn’t respond, but my curiosity was piqued, and I was eager to find out what was inside.
I pulled the safe down, wondering why I’d never noticed it before.
I’d been in that bedroom plenty of times, but it wasn’t the main bedroom I slept in.
Still, though, I thought I’d known the cabin inside and out.
Apparently not. The safe was heavy, but I couldn’t tell whether that was due to the contents or the fact that it was a steel box.
I carried it into the living room and placed it on a table to open it, quickly discovering that it was, in fact, locked.
“Where could the key be?” I asked myself out loud.
I headed into the kitchen area to rummage through what my mom had always called our “junk drawer,” the drawer that held all the small stuff without a home.
Inside were flashlights, a corkscrew, spare batteries, and more.
I found several pairs of scissors, a deck of cards, and a couple of campfire lighters.
After a few moments of digging, I unearthed a ring of keys tucked at the very back of the drawer. “Ah-hah,” I said triumphantly.
The ring had a mixed batch of keys, some silvery, some bronze, of all different sizes and shapes.
I peered at the safe, investigating the lock.
Silver. Okay, that narrows it down. I started trying to slide the silver keys into the lock.
It took a few tries, but eventually I found the right key and it slid into the lock smoothly.
I pulled the safe open and propped the lid up.
Inside were stacks of papers that looked mostly boring, but I couldn’t stop myself from rummaging through the contents.
At first, nothing jumped out as particularly interesting.
Ownership paperwork for the cabin and tax documents were on the top.
As I dug in, though, things got more interesting.
Under the deed and tax papers were savings bonds.
I didn’t know much about what a savings bond was supposed to look like, but the dates were from the same year I was born.
I placed those aside in a separate pile.
Beneath those, at the very bottom, was a small photo album.
I picked it up and flipped open the cover, frowning.
Why would they keep a photo album hidden away in a safe, instead of out with the rest of the family pictures?
The first page of pictures were of groups of people that were mostly unfamiliar to me.
The only face I recognized was my dad’s, usually in the middle of the group shots, young and carefree with a joyful smile on his face.
I flipped to the next page. More pictures of my dad, but most of them were of him and another man, someone I didn’t recognize.
A cousin, maybe, or a friend. The other man looked about the same age as my dad, and in several of the pictures, they had their arms around each other’s backs.
In one, they were sitting together, shoulder to shoulder, smiles wide, both faces pink from the sun.
I turned the page again. More pictures of my dad and the other man. Instead of casual best friend type shots, these were pictures of the two of them embracing, chest to chest, holding each other close. In several, they were looking into each other’s eyes. And in one, they were kissing.
My mouth dropped open, brow furrowing, and my stomach fluttered.
My dad? Kissing another man? I turned the page, and there were several more pictures of the same.
My dad and the other man, shirtless in some pictures, wearing just swimming trunks, holding each other, looking into one another’s eyes, kissing, and even one where my dad’s head was on the stranger’s shoulder as they appeared to slow dance.
It didn’t compute. My parents had been married for at least forty years.
When was this? When did my dad have time to be in a relationship with this guy?
And what happened to them? Why had I never heard about him?
I kept looking, turning page after page of the album, finding more pictures of my dad and his…
partner, I guessed. Some with friends, some just the two of them.
A few of them individually. On the very last page was a newspaper clipping. An obituary.
My chest ached as I read the clipping. One sentence jumped out at me immediately and a cold flush ran through me.
Stuart is survived by his loving partner, Arnold Wilson.
Arnold Wilson was my dad’s name. But who was Stuart? I mean, between the pictures and the obituary, it was clear who Stuart was, but… who was he? Why had I never heard about him? And where did my mom fit into all this?
I sat there, staring at the photos in stunned silence for a long time, trying to puzzle it all out. I wanted to ask my dad about it, but if he’d hid Stuart’s existence this long, I didn’t know that he’d exactly welcome talking about him.
A hand settled onto my shoulder, startling me out of my daze. I glanced up to see Mason smiling down at me. He had no idea that my world had just been rocked, of course, and I didn’t know how to tell him what I’d found. I didn’t even know what to tell him about the pictures.
“Feeling better?” I asked, my voice sounding strained as I spoke.
Mason nodded and squeezed my shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of me. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well, you’d better stay off the roof for the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow too.”
He shrugged. “We’ll see how I feel tomorrow.”
“Fair.”
A second passed before he nodded toward the album and the piles of things next to the safe. “Looks like you found some old family pictures or something.”
“I found something, alright.”
His eyebrows dipped in confusion. “What do you mean?” Without another word, I closed the photo album and passed it to him. Mason opened it and immediately smiled. “Is that your dad?”
“It is. Keep looking.”
I stared at my hands as he paged through. The soft shush of album pages falling against one another was the only sound in the room.
“Wait—is that—”
“That’s my dad.”
“Who’s he kissing?”
“I think his name is Stuart.” I looked up at Mason then, wishing desperately that he’d have some cosmic understanding I didn’t have. “Keep looking.”
“Oh. Ohh. Oh man.” As he reached the end, his eyes widened, lips parting in surprise just as mine had.
“Yeah.”
Mason put the album on the table. “Where did you get this? That safe?”
“It was in the back bedroom. I was going to start the drywall demo and…” I shrugged. “I found the safe and couldn’t stop myself from snooping.”
“Has he ever mentioned Stuart to you?”
“Never.” A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed. “What should I do?”
Mason sighed and took a seat next to me. “What do you want to do?” I looked down and he took my hands in his. “Hey,” he murmured. “No matter what’s going on between us, I’m still your best friend. I’m here for you. What can I do to help?”
“I don’t know. I want to know who Stuart is and why Dad never mentioned him. And I want to know how my mom fits into all this. And why nobody ever told me anything about it.”
“Maybe it’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s just—”
I looked up at him sharply. “Just what? What could it possibly be other than exactly what it looks like? Exactly what the obituary says?”
He nodded and sighed. “Fair. But you need to talk to your parents before you let yourself get all bent out of shape. There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why they never told you about him.
“So, what? I just call and ask, out of the blue?”
Mason reached over and brushed a strand of stray hair from my face. “What else can you do?” He took a slow breath. “Listen. It’s not like you know the entire dating history of both of your parents, right?”
“This wasn’t just dating,” I pointed out.
He shrugged. “Maybe you’re just freaking out because Stuart is a guy. There’s probably no big story here. Your dad has a past partner he never mentioned.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Do you think you might be reacting like this because of… us?” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving as he did.
I opened my mouth to protest but a cold wave rushed through me. He was probably—exactly—right. “Maybe.”
He nodded. “Okay, then.”
“But—” Mason’s eyebrows shot up as I spoke. I took a deep breath. “I just mean, my family’s so close. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned this?”
“I guess if that’s what’s bothering you, you should ask him that.”
I nodded and reached for my phone, hands shaking and Mason reached out to stop me.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what you said. Calling to ask.”
“Now?”
“No time like the present.” I found the number in my contacts and tapped on it, heart racing, beating hard in my chest. It rang a couple of times before Mom answered.
“Hey, Em. What’s going on?”
“Hi, Mom. I was wondering if you and Dad had a few minutes to jump on a video call.”
“Yeah, of course honey. You sound upset. Is everything okay? You’re not in the ER or anything, are you?”
I laughed weakly. “Not in the ER. Still in the cabin, safe and sound.” A moment later, the video turned on and my phone lit up in my hand with the prompt to allow the video call to begin. I propped my phone against the safe and smiled a little as Mom and Dad both crowded into view.
“Oh, hi, Mason.” Mom gave him a little wave.
He nodded at her. “Mrs. Wilson. Nice to see you again. Same to you, Mr. Wilson.”
Their smiles were so genuine, so unsuspecting, and I hesitated to speak. Mom broke the silence. “What’s the update with you boys?”
Mason jumped right in. “Emery saved me from heat exhaustion today. I’m doing better now, but I was pretty sick there for a while.”
“Mason!” Mom fussed. “You have to take better care of yourself. What if you’d really gotten hurt?”
“The heat can be brutal this time of year, even at the lake,” Dad pointed out.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I promise, I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.”
We were both quiet for a quick moment before I found the courage to speak. “I found a safe in the back bedroom.”
My dad’s smile froze immediately. Mom nodded slowly. “Did you… open it?”
“I did.”
“Find anything interesting?” she continued.
“A photo album.” I paused. “Who’s Stuart?” I blurted finally.
“Oh, honey. I don’t think—” Mom started, but Dad put a hand on her arm to quiet her and she stopped talking.
His jaw muscle twitched and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again a moment later, they were shining with unshed tears. “Stuart was my partner before your mom,” he said, his voice soft and deliberate.
“But… I thought you met Mom in high school.”
He nodded again. “I did. But we lost contact when I left for college. I met Stuart when we were freshmen. We were together for six years.”
“What happened?”
Dad was very quiet when he responded. “He died. It was a car accident. He was on his way to visit his parents and an animal ran into the road. Stuart swerved to miss it, and… well, that was it. Actually, your mom came to the funeral to offer her condolences. She was an angel while I was grieving and processing. Things just developed from there.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention him?”
Dad rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant. It was a long time ago.”
Out of view of the camera, Mason gently put his hand on my knee and squeezed.
“Are you… I mean, I thought you were straight?” I couldn’t help but say it, the thing that had been on my mind about my own sexuality for the entire time we’d been at the cabin.
“Honey,” Mom said. “Sexuality is complicated. Your generation didn’t come up with that part, you know.”
Don’t I know it? I thought. Sexuality was complicated, and it seemed like mine was growing more complicated every day. When I nodded, Dad cleared his throat and spoke. “I was in love with Stuart and I’m in love with your mom. That’s all that anyone needs to know about my sexuality.”
“Yeah. I get it.” I hesitated for a moment. Could it be that simple for me? “I’m sorry I invaded your privacy. I shouldn’t have looked in the lockbox.”
Dad shrugged. “I don’t mind. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from anyone except myself. It still hurts to think about losing him.”
“What’s the safe doing here at the cabin anyway?”
“Stuart and I picked out that property together. We were going to move there once the cabin was built. It felt only fitting to keep the album close by.”
My chest ached for them as I took a shaky breath. We chatted a few more minutes about lighter topics, mostly Mason filling Dad in on the progress on the cabin, the work he’d accomplished, what we had left, that sort of thing.
When we hung up, Mason wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug. For a long time, he held me without moving, without being impatient to end the hug. When I finally pulled away, he combed his fingers through my hair.
“You okay?”
I nodded confidently. “I am.”