Chapter Eleven
Everything was a blur from the time Michael's plane landed at Sarasota Bradenton International
Airport to the time they made their way to his aunt's car. There where hugs and tears followed by
more hugs. From Aunt Helen, Uncle Robert, and the two grandchildren who came along with them.
He couldn't remember their names, but he'd take care of that once he'd settled down.
He liked Aunt Helen a lot. She was tall and beautiful; old and ageless at the same time. Her voice
was soft; her eyes even softer. Uncle Robert was obviously crazy in love with her still, and her
grandchildren didn't hide how much they adored her.
Aunt Helen sat with him on the third seat of their mini-van. She patted his hand while he talked
to his parents. A few minutes later she got on the phone herself and assured them she'd take good
care of Michael. Then she grabbed his face between her hands and cried again. She said he looked
exactly like her brother had when he was a boy, and told him she couldn't believe how much he'd
grown since the last time she'd seen him.
Michael was baffled by that comment.
He'd just found out they existed. Why would she say she'd seen him before? He didn't say
anything to her, though. She might've looked ageless, but she was old. Late sixties, going by what he'd read in the journals. She must've been confused.
She hugged him again, and Michael emotions kind of short-circuited.
Being so physically close to someone who was technically a stranger yet didn't feel like one was
totally weird. His mind told him he should keep his distance, but his heart told him to stay put; that
he was exactly where he belonged. He was reluctant and relaxed in equal parts; feeling out of place,
but also one hundred percent home.
He looked out the window and wondered if the rest of the family would be as welcoming as
Aunt Helen and Uncle Robert. The cousin in New Jersey had been a total pain in the ass when
Michael first called his house, but maybe that was only because the entire family was leery of
strangers.
Aunt Helen rubbed his head, and he relaxed against her shoulder, totally enjoying her attentions
and the scenery outside the car. He wanted to ask about his grandpa, but he didn't dare. If he was
going to get bad news, he didn't want to hear it just yet.
"Is your house far from the airport?" Michael asked, watching the palm trees and the ocean that
was so close he could smell it.
"A few hours away," she said. "But don't worry. We'll be home in no time."
"How many is a few?"
"About three hours."
Michael sighed. He'd just spent what felt like ten hours on a plane. The last thing he wanted was
more traveling time.
"Hold on a second," he said, turning to look at her. "If you live so far, why did you have me fly
to this airport?"
"Because we're not going to my house; we're going the island." She patted his hand. "That's
where we're having the celebration on Saturday. Half the family is already there, but the rest will be flying in tomorrow. Not everyone was able to take time off from work."
"The island?" Michael whispered. "As in Benjamin's private island?"
Aunt Helen chuckled and patted his hand one more time. She did that patting thing a lot.
"It hasn't been Benjamin's in… Lord… forty-two years? Richard bought it from him as soon as
he had enough money."
"Is that where he went when Grandma Elizabeth threw him out?"
"Not right away, but yes. He needed to get away. A private island that not many people knew
about and could only be accessed by boat was the ideal place for him."
"Of course…" Michael felt like the biggest idiot ever. "I should've known."
Benjamin Newman had been Richard's closest friend. He'd opened Richard's eyes to what he was,
introduced him to other gay guys, advised him to get himself a wife, and tried to help when Richard
got all depressed. He even was his father's godfather! Of course he would've helped Richard when
he'd needed a place to hide.
Michael chewed on his lip for a few seconds before he asked, "Can you tell me what happened all
those years ago? I couldn't find any journal entries after Grandpa told Grandma he wanted a
divorce."
He almost asked if his grandpa would be on the island but changed his mind at the last moment.
So what if they were going to Richard's island? That didn't mean anything. He could've left the
place to his sister for all Michael knew.
"Richard went to Benjamin's house," Aunt Helen said, and the soft look in her eyes told him she
knew he was stalling. That he didn't want to ask. "He tried to contact Mary Elizabeth, but she
wouldn't take his calls. Robert and I flew to Los Angeles as soon as we heard of what has
happening. We'd been friends for many years, and I thought she'd listen to me. But she didn't. She
felt betrayed and was furious at Richard for shaming her, even though he never did." She sighed. "I suspect she also resented losing the lifestyle she'd become accustomed to. She didn't know Richard
at all. He would've never done such a thing."
"Why did he stop looking for his son so soon after getting the boot?" There was no mistaking the
accusation in his voice. He couldn't help it. He was furious on his dad's behalf. "He could've tried
harder."
"Mary Elizabeth threatened us with doing certain things if we didn't stay away," Aunt Helen
explained, and Michael knew she was being protective by not mentioning the crazy suicide talk.
Albeit appreciated, it was completely unnecessary, as he already knew. "Richard didn't want to take
any risks. We continued to write letters to her, though. We were convinced that was safe. I think,
between your grandfather and I, we must've sent her twenty letters every week. She never
answered… not once."
"Then she disappeared and started a new life as some other man's widow," Michael concluded.
"First in Utah, then Seattle, New Mexico, and even Vancouver for a few months before buying
the house in Lake Tahoe," she confirmed, looking out the window. "She was good at disappearing,
and back then we didn't have as many resources to locate people as we do nowadays."
"We've had those resources for at least twenty years," Michael muttered.
He was happy to have found his aunt, but he still couldn't understand why his grandpa hadn't
looked for them the moment he could.
Aunt Helen patted his hand again, but her eyes became distant, as if she'd gotten lost in her
memories.
"We were lucky that Mary Elizabeth accepted Benjamin as an intermediary, but she was extremely
careful the times she met with him," Aunt Helen said in a low voice. "Richard hired detectives, but
I'm afraid that didn't help. Mary Elizabeth realized she was being followed and told Benjamin, in no
uncertain terms, that bad things would happen if Richard didn't stop looking for them. She was good at covering her steps… she was too smart for her own good."
"She was also a selfish—" Michael shut his mouth. His mother would wash his mouth with soap
if he voiced the word on the tip of his tongue.
Aunt Helen squeezed his hand.
"She was able to get away with things for a few years, but she underestimated Richard, and she
made a mistake."
"What mistake?"
"The bank needed your father's school information and doctor's name in order to pay the bills,
and Elizabeth provided it. Had it not been for that trust fund Richard was smart enough to set up,
he would've never been able to find his son." She patted his hand again, and a huge smile spread
across her face. "Here we are, dear," she announced, seemingly oblivious of Michael's state of
confusion. "You're going to love this place!"
Michael's mind was reeling. What did she mean, Richard would've never been able to find his
own son? He never did find him!
He opened his mouth to ask Aunt Helen what in the world was she talking about, but he caught a
glimpse of the small island ahead of them, and all thoughts escaped his mind.
At some point in the past forty years an access bridge had been built from the mainland, but
massive iron gates kept the island private. As the mini-van entered through them Michael's jaw hit
the floor. The place was magnificent. The bluest water ever broke at the shoreline on bright waves
that kissed white sand. There were palm trees and all kinds of other colorful trees and flowers in full
bloom.
The landscape was unbelievable. He could see yards, gardens and outdoor living space. The
house was located about ten minutes away from the main gate. It was big. Like, palatial big. The kind
of big Michael had only seen on shows like America's Richest Homes or MTV Cribs. There was a tennis court in the backyard there, and an awesome pool with lots of teenagers and kids splashing in
it. The adults were on the chairs, and around the bar and grill. To the left of the house, Michael
spotted a private dock with four jet-skis, a speed boat, and a damn yacht.
Whoever owned the place was definitely holding.
Aunt Helen had said she didn't live in the island. So who did? Could this mean Richard was alive?
Was he about to meet his grandpa?
Uncle Robert pulled up in front of the house. Michael took a deep breath and got out of the
mini-van. The nameless cousins ran off to the pool area, and Michael followed the adults inside the
house… which was boss. Everything looked expensive, but it didn't feel like a showroom. On the
contrary. The furniture was homey, and the rooms were well lived in. Some of the pillows on the
couch were askew. There were a couple of cups on a coffee table, and toys all over the floor.
Toys belonged to little kids.
There were little kids in the house. Family members. Michael would finally have little cousins to
play with.
He grinned at the thought.
Although he'd never visited the house before, a deep sense of déjà-vu descended upon Michael.
He knew the place from Richard's description of it in his journal. He knew the location of
bedrooms and bathrooms. He knew how many there were. He knew where to find the kitchen, the
dining room and the studio. He even knew in which direction to go in order to find that secluded
stretch of beach where his grandpa had been made love to by the man he gave up.
If he closed his eyes, he could feel Richard's presence in the house.
How crazy was that.
"This way, dear," Aunt Helen said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Let me show you to your
room." She followed Uncle Robert, who was already half way up the stairs carrying Michael's small
suitcase. The duffel bag containing the journals, the Tony Award, and the Oscars Michael had kept
with him.
He stuck his hands in his cargo shorts pockets and took several steps back. "Would it be okay if I
look around?" he asked. "I promise I won't touch anything. I just wanna—"
"Don't be silly," Aunt Helen cut him off. She came back downstairs, and touched him lightly on
the face. "You can do whatever you want." She cupped his cheek. "I know the past couple of days
have been quite emotional for you, so we're going to leave you alone for a bit, okay?"
"Thanks," Michael said with a smile. "I just need to… you know…"
Take everything in? Pinch himself to make sure he really was in this house?
He didn't know how to explain it to her, and luckily he didn't have to.
"Make yourself at home." Aunt Helen kissed him on the forehead, and headed toward the back
of the house. "We'll be out in the patio. Join us whenever you want."
Michael began exploring the first floor the moment she was out of sight. Several of the bay
windows were open, letting the tropical breeze in. He loved it.
He walked through the living room, the formal dining room, and the kitchen. He looked in the
pantry and storage closets. He found a game room and a huge home theater. The library was located
in the back of the house, and so well stocked it'd make his parents weep when they saw it. The last
room he walked into was an office.
It had almost as many books as the library, and Michael just knew it had been his grandfather's.
Or maybe it still was.
"God, please," he whispered. "Let it
be
his office."
Michael broke into a huge grin when he noticed the bookcase in the far wall contained a bunch
of journals, and the work of R.B. Lewis. Man, Dad was going to die when he found out his own father was as also a big fan of the famous author. This was good. I'd be an ice-breaker, and
something they could bond over.
If he's alive.
Grandpa was definitely a fan. Only the real hardcore fans made sure they got special editions,
