Chapter Seventeen
DEACON
The line of poetry I sent to Winter at eight o’clock wasn’t the one I really wanted to send him.
But it was Christmas Eve and the line ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse’
It was cliché, yes, but it was relevant for one day of the year.
It was fitting and wholly appropriate, which meant the one quote I wanted to send him would just have to wait.
Like he’d said, we had all the time in the world.
Even though what I felt for him sometimes was a balloon inside me that would expand so much it could burst.
Love was such an immeasurable thing.
I’d read countless books and poems and quotes about love. I’d read those words then, as if reading any fiction; words on paper that held little meaning because I’d never experienced it.
Well, I understood it now.
I’d been watching my parents my entire life. I knew what love could be. I’d see them laugh and cry together, cook together, read together, be happy to be together. I’d always wanted that depth of understanding for myself.
Never once thought it’d be a reality for me.
But now . . . now maybe it could be.
I really wanted to hold Winter’s hand.
I liked it. Not with anyone else—never with anyone else—but Winter was patient and understanding. He didn’t mock me like the kids at school had, and he hadn’t pressured me like the guys at college had tried to.
Winter let me be me.
On my own terms, in my own time.
And that trust unlocked something in me.
Something small, like a tiny seed that, with the right conditions, could sprout.
I wanted to try, anyway. Small steps.
The fact I’d held his hand at all was huge for me, but Winter seemed to understand the gravity of it.
He didn’t dismiss me or hurry me. He wasn’t disappointed or impatient or frustrated.
He’d looked at me in wonder, as if he were amazed and proud.
We’d made a pinky promise.
An actual pinky promise, like the kids in elementary school did, like I never could.
My promise to him was to try.
And with him, I felt like I could try a whole world of things. One measured, carefully thought out, over-analyzed step at a time, of course.
“Earth to Deacon,” Dad said, waving his hand in front of my face.
Oh.
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
Dad rolled his eyes, smiling. “I said we’re done here. I’ll stay and finalize some orders and do one final check on the patients before I come back later this afternoon.” He shooed me toward the door. “You need to go. I hope you’re more helpful at the bookstore than you’ve been here.”
I winced. “I’m distracted, sorry.” We’d stopped by the clinic to check on the overnight patients. Even though we were closed barring emergencies, we still needed to provide care.
Dad put the folder on the counter and leaned against it and gave me a smile I couldn’t quite place. “You know, Deac, it’s okay if you want to take some time off work.”
“What?” I was not expecting this. What did he mean? “Why would I want to take time off? Are you saying you’re not happy with my work? I know I’ve been distracted, but I can—”
He put his hand up, still smiling. “No, no, Deac, not at all. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I’m just . . .” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not very good at talking about this. It’s more your mom’s forte.”
“Talking about what?”
“About most things.” He smiled at the floor. “You know, when we found out we were having you, I freaked out. I was not ready. Your mom took it all in stride, the way she does everything, but I . . . I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. But jeez, we lucked out with you.”
Lucked out?
He smiled fondly at me. “You were the perfect baby. Slept, ate, rarely cried. You were a great kid: super smart, inquisitive, always reading. Never argued, never put a toe out of line. Even at college, never did drugs or alcohol. During veterinary school, clinicals, and residency, you easily managed the rigorous courseload. And now, as an employee, you’re pretty damn perfect.
Since you’ve started here, you’ve never missed a day.
Not one sick day, not one holiday. You’ve done every single thing I’ve ever asked and never complained. Not once.”
I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this. “Dad, why . . . why are you saying this? If I did something wrong, just tell me.”
He shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m proud of you. Not just proud of your work. I know sometimes the lines can get a little blurred between work and home.” He gave me a fond smile. My favorite kind. “Deacon, I am proud of the man you have become.”
Oh.
A strange, heavy lump formed in my chest, hot and burning, and it made me want to cry.
“You’re a good man, Deac. And I’m happy for you.
I’m happy that you met Winter. He’s a real nice young man.
So, what I’m saying is, what the point was to this whole story, is that if you ever want to have some time off work to spend the day with Winter to go do something fun, you just have to ask, okay? ”
I really wasn’t sure what to say. I still had the strange urge to cry and didn’t dare to look at him. I could barely even nod.
“Okay, enough of the sappy stuff,” he said. “It’s Christmas Eve. We should be talking about holiday cheer. And the light festival tonight is going to be fun. Your mother and I will see you there. You have a good day with Winter, okay?”
I nodded again. I did need to leave because it was almost time for the bookstore to open. I wanted to say something, a response to his kind words, to tell him that I was proud of him too, that I was lucky to be his son, but I couldn’t say the words.
I had an overwhelming supply of love and gratitude that I wasn’t quite sure what to do with. But I needed to do something. I had to. I needed to give it an outlet. I needed him to know.
So, I crossed the floor, and for the first time since I was a very young boy, I put my arms around my dad and hugged him. Just for a second, long enough to hear him suck back a shocked breath, before I let go and took a step back and hurried to the door.
I glanced back at him for a split second. He was stunned, his hand to his mouth, eyes teary.
I didn’t dare stop though.
I hurried to see Winter. I was so excited when I got there. He let me through the door and eyed me cautiously. “Are you . . . is everything okay?”
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “I hugged my dad.”
He understood the significance immediately, without me having to explain. He grabbed my coat sleeve. “Oh, wow. Deacon, I’m so happy for you.”
“He said he was proud of me, and I . . .” I trailed off as I noticed his sweater. It was red and white, Christmas themed, of course, with Rudolph and holly and snowflakes. “Oh, that’s . . .”
He laughed. “It’s my ugly Christmas sweater.”
I grimaced. “Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but I’m glad you’re aware . . .”
He laughed and laughed. “Oh, you’re funny.
Come through here; can I make you coffee before the rush?
I left Merry and Bright at home again today because I’m expecting this morning to be super busy—well, I hope it will be—and it wouldn’t be fair to the boys.
And then this evening is the light festival, which I’m super excited for, so I won’t be home until later.
But I’ll be home all day with them tomorrow to make up for it, to give them lots of cuddles and playtime. ”
I followed him through to the storeroom. There were boxes of books, newly arrived, which would need to be inventoried and cataloged. Which I should start on immediately . . .
“Evie will be here soon. She’s working this morning, helping out as well,” he said. “She’s been a godsend this week, actually. And I got her a little Christmas gift.” He nodded to a gift bag on the desk. “Oh,” he said, his perfect smile aimed at me. “Your poem this morning was lovely,” he said.
“It wasn’t the one I wanted to send,” I admitted. “But it was Christmas Eve, so . . .”
“Which one did you want to send me today?”
I shook my head. There was no way I was saying it out loud. “One I’ve now saved for another day.”
He laughed. “That’s fair. I know I keep going on about them, but I don’t expect you to do daily poems forever, I mean, that would be a lot. And it’s unreasonable. If you want to pare it down to once every other day or once a week, I’ll understand.”
I shrugged. “Would you mind if I wanted to send you one every day forever?”
He grinned, eyes sparkling. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all,” he murmured. “I’m really glad you’re here today.”
That weird, burning lump in my chest was back. “I am glad I’m here also.”
Just then, someone came through the door, bell chiming above them. Winter gave my arm a quick brush as he went to greet them. “Good morning, Evie,” he said.
“Morning!” she replied. She came into the storeroom to hang her coat up. “Oh, Deacon. Good morning and merry Christmas Eve!”
She was so bubbly and loud. Normally I would avoid such types, but it suited her, and I almost envied her carefree energy. “Morning, and merry Christmas Eve to you also.”
She grinned as the doorbell chimed again, then she was gone to greet them. “Merry Christmas Eve,” she said brightly.
Winter came in, smiling, collected a pile of books with a customer’s name on a Post-it note, and disappeared into the store. He was busy, non-stop, and always smiling.
I listened to Winter talk to the customer about the books they’d requested. I loved how passionate he was, how perfect he was. I listened as Evie hummed what I thought was the Smurf song as she worked.
I stood there for a second, so unbelievably happy, unrecognizably happy, taking it all in for just a moment. Then I got to work.
“So do you want your gift tonight or tomorrow?” Winter asked. We were closing up the store. It was dark outside now. Main Street was closed off in preparation for the light festival, people busy setting up stalls and making the whole town look more Christmassy than it did before.