Spring Rain (29 page)

But those momentary suspicions had been right all along. William Clayton Spenser might have been named after William Clayton Wharton Sr., like Leigh always said. But he was also named after Clay.

And old Clay had no idea.

Ted couldn’t decide how he felt about Clay’s ignorance. If Bill were his own son and no one ever told him, how would he feel? Of course if no one told him, he wouldn’t feel anything. But how would he react if and when he did learn the truth? Anger? Disbelief? Regret? Fear? It was hard to imagine what he would feel in a situation he’d never face.

How would Clay react if and when he learned the truth? How would he feel toward Leigh? She had, after all, kept him from his son for years. Would he take to fathering at this late date? Would he help financially? Want visitation? And most perplexing of all, why hadn’t he known? No matter how frustrated he got with Clay, he never doubted his brother’s strong sense of morality. Clay would never sleep around. An accident, yes. Anyone can fall under the right circumstances. But lots of women? Never. So why hadn’t he known Bill was his?

And how would Bill react to this unsettling news? Would he be happy to find out he had a father that his mother had kept secret? Would he forgive Leigh? Hate her? Hate Clay?

They were questions that made his brain spin.

Ted’s eyes felt heavy, and he let them close, his hand still resting on the picture. His mind went empty. It was becoming harder
and harder to hold thoughts together for long periods of time. The depression and fatigue were too strong. Just a few minutes rest. Then maybe the fever he could feel building would dissipate before becoming anything significant.

He smiled sadly at the idea of an insignificant fever at his stage of things. And he could just imagine what David would say when he found out that Ted had not told him about the sweats and following chills. It was the first time he’d withheld information. And the last. But he wasn’t going to ruin tonight’s party. It meant too much to Mom.

He blinked and turned to the clock, surprised to find he’d slept two hours. He wiped a film of sweat from his brow. The fever was settling in. Poor timing.

He reached for his water and took a long drink. Weary from the strain, he lay back. Another hour passed before he woke up again. This time he felt more rested, but he was shivering because his pajamas were wet from sweating. Now there was an interesting challenge for tonight: not to get red in the face or sweat when hot with fever.

He thought about Clay, the much-loved and greatly resented man he shared today with. Back to the same question: What should he do about him? He knew he had to decide soon. He knew there wasn’t much more time, maybe a couple of weeks. Maybe a couple of months.

If he wanted to be mean, he could do nothing. Die without resolution. That would eat at Clay for the rest of his life.

Ted shook his head. No, that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to die shriven, and he wanted Clay, the officious bigot, to live whole.

Why couldn’t Clay treat this whole situation as Leigh did? She didn’t approve, but she made her points so nicely.

“You don’t understand, Leigh,” Ted had told her on more than one occasion. “You just don’t understand.”

Leigh would then look so earnest and sincere he had to hold back a smile. “Yes, I do,” she always said. “I understand.”

He’d turn his bitterness on her. “You can’t possibly.”

She never flinched. She just looked at him and saw her best
friend since forever, the one who stood by her when no one else would pay any attention to her, the one who stood up for her when the other kids had mocked her. He was the one who had held her when she cried with loneliness and frustration, the one who had played father to Bill on so many occasions. He knew she suspected he was the one who had sent his mother to her, though he knew that wasn’t true. That appeared to be a genuine God thing.

She fought a constant struggle to be true to both biblical orthodoxy and her love for him. He knew she
wanted
to say, “It’s okay, Teddy. Be what you are. I approve. You know I’ll always love you.”

But she felt she couldn’t, for both his sake and Christ’s.

“Isn’t temptation the same whether you’re straight or gay?” she always asked. “Isn’t longing longing and isn’t love love?” She smiled sadly. “Believe me, I understand temptation, longing, and love.”

Ted looked at her without blinking. If he agreed with her, and deep down he was afraid that he did, he knew and she knew that he would undercut his stance that he couldn’t help himself. So he hurt her and hated himself for it.

“What do you know of love and longing, Leigh?” His even tone kept what could have eaten like acid from being more than a slight catch of her heart, but he knew it still hurt. “You’ve been alone for eleven whole years.”

She gave him a crooked smile. “I’ve been alone for twenty-nine whole years minus one night. Does that mean I can’t understand love? Or perhaps that I understand it all the more?”

“Mmm,” he said. His eyes slid past her, sad that he made her sad. “So maybe you understand love.”

“It’s the love of God that’s beyond my comprehension.” She smiled and shook her head. “Where I’ve come from. What I’ve done. And even so He loves me and always will.” She looked at him gravely. “You too, Ted.”

“I know that,” he said, his tone testy. “I’m not talking about God’s love, and you know it. Though if He loved me, He’d have done things differently.”

“You know we can’t blame God for our choices and mistakes. And you know I’m right. Choosing not to yield to urges and hormones
is very, very hard, but it’s also what God wants. And when we fail, He wants us to agree with Him that we were wrong. I certainly agree with Him about me. And He wants us to change, Ted, where we’re wrong. Like He told the woman taken in adultery, ‘Go and sin no more.’ ”

And she would leave it there.

Clay, on the other hand, would go for the jugular every time.

“Sin is sin, Ted,” he’d thunder. “Just think about that for a while. You need to repent.”

Was it a male-female thing? Or a Clay personality disorder?

As he absently watched Clooney down on the beach dig more holes with his spade, he knew that was both too simplistic and too sarcastic an answer. It was more the case of a man who accepted biblical standards as absolutes unable to come to terms with one who flouted them.

But they had to come to terms. They had to.

The picture made a muted noise as his hand fell on it. He picked it up and studied his father’s image again. He suddenly knew what he was going to do for Clay.

N
ICE PARTY,”
Bill said as he licked the last of the birthday cake off his fork. “Great cake, Grandma Jule. Love that caramel icing.” He nodded to Clay and Ted. “Thanks, guys, for providing the occasion.”

Clay laughed. The kid was such a character. “Glad to be of service.”

“I really think you ought to be thanking me, Bill,” Mom said from her seat at the head of the table. “All those two did was show up. I did all the work.”

“Sort of like tonight?” Bill said.

Mom laughed. “Not quite. Tonight I had help.” She blushed at David.

Clay felt Leigh’s eyes on him and refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead he smiled weakly at her.

“But all
they
did was show up again, right?” Bill eyed Clay and Ted.

“Hey, that’s the way it’s supposed to be on your birthday,” Clay said.

Bill shrugged. “If you say so. Now let’s get to the next important part of the evening, the gifts.”

“A man after my own heart,” Ted said, smiling.

Clay looked at his brother seated across the table. He looked weary, but his eyes sparkled with life, and he had rosy cheeks. Tonight there was nothing about him of the somewhat bitter man Clay was familiar with, the one who lay in the bed by the French windows, studying the
sea, watching Clooney find his little treasures.

I bet he’d like to go to the beach.
Clay felt foolish that he hadn’t realized that fact sooner.
Of course he would. He’s always loved the ocean, the smell, the movement, the feel of the breeze from its surface. The deck is nice; the open French doors are nice; but they aren’t the beach.

He thought of how he’d feel if he were unable to walk at the water’s edge or get sand in his shoes or feel the pull of the wind in his hair.
Maybe tomorrow I can take him there. I’ll carry him because I know he could never walk it. And Leigh or Bill can lug a chair for him. Maybe Clooney can even find a treasure for him.

Pleased with that thought, Clay rose and picked up a pair of cake dishes. “Mom, I’m about to reclaim my reputation and prove to a certain kid that I do more than just show up, even on my birthday. You take Ted and David and go into the living room and get settled. Bill can help me clean up.”

“What?” Bill’s face was a study in surprise.

“It’s not your birthday today.” Clay stacked more cake dishes in a neat pile. “You can work.”

Wrinkling his face in disgust, Bill grabbed a glass in each hand and headed for the kitchen.

Leigh grinned at her son’s retreating back. She collected a handful of dishes and followed Clay and Bill to the kitchen.

“How about, Bill, you clear, I rinse, and your mom loads?”

Leigh and Bill looked at each other, then at Clay and started to laugh. “Your military training is showing,” Leigh said.

“Sorry,” Clay said, not the least bit chagrined. “I’m so used to giving orders that I don’t even think about it.”

“At least you’re pleasant about it,” Bill said. “If someone has to order me around, it’s nice if that someone isn’t a grump.”

“Are you thinking of any particular grump when you say that?” Leigh asked, eyes wide and innocent.

Bill grinned at his mother. “I wasn’t, but as they say, if the shoe fits.…”

“That shoe is much too big for your mom,” Clay said as he turned the faucet on. “She’s not a grump. She’s a trooper.” He caught Leigh’s look of amused surprise. “Well, you are.”

“Two compliments in one day,” she said. “I’d better be careful, or the flattery will go to my head.”

“And a lovely head it is,” Clay said, pouring ice cubes and the dregs of iced tea down the drain.

Bill dropped a fistful of dirty flatware onto the counter. “She is pretty, isn’t she?” He looked at his mother through narrowed eyes. “All the kids at school think she’s pretty too. They all like her best. Yes sir. She’s one in a million, a champ.”

Leigh just shook her head, but Bill was on a roll. With great theatrical flourish, he continued.

“She never gets angry. She never gets impatient. She never yells at me. She never punishes me. She never orders me around. And she certainly is never a grump, not even Saturday morning when I wake her up to a closet full of kittens.”

“Wow,” said an unimpressed Leigh. “You must be pushing for a great Easter present.”

“And I’m going to get hit by lightning for lying!” he flung over his shoulder as he disappeared into the dining room for more dirty dishes.

Laughing, Leigh and Clay worked quietly for a few minutes, the only noise the clink of glasses, the swoosh of water over a plate, the clatter of forks against knives.

“I thought of you this morning,” Leigh said suddenly, looking up at Clay.

He blinked, absurdly pleased. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “During my devotions.” She slid a pair of plates into slots in the dishwasher. “I was reading about Jacob and Esau.”

“Ah.” Clay handed her a large pot. “The biblical twins who couldn’t stand each other. I wonder why they made you think of me?”

“I was at the part of the story where they reconcile after being separated for twenty years.”

“And I’m Jacob, the returning evil brother who has tricked my twin out of his blessing and birthright?” Clay was surprised at how sour he sounded.

So, apparently, was Leigh. “Of course not.”

“Oh.” He handed her several large cooking spoons. “Of course not.”

“Forget the returning brother/stay-at-home brother part of the story. You’re Esau, the good brother who has been hurt by his twin’s actions.”

He stared at her in amazement. He was the good brother?
She
could say that?

“You see yourself as the one with the reason to be angry and hold a grudge because just as Jacob hurt Esau, Ted hurt you. Right?”

“I guess,” he said slowly.

“You guess?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

He scowled. “I never thought of it that way before, okay?”

“I wonder if Esau got cranky when he talked about his brother?” she asked the air.

“All right. You’re right.” He was less than gentle with the pot he was rinsing. “I’m Esau mad at my brother Jacob.”

She nodded, satisfied. “When the brothers finally met, Jacob had a huge chip on his shoulder, expecting trouble from Esau and planning how to counter it.”

“Sort of like Ted always being defensive around me?”

She nodded again. “Now get this part that I’m going to say.” She pointed a huge carving knife at him. “It’s the important part.”

Eyeing the knife hovering a few inches from his chest, Clay said, “I’m listening.”

“It was Esau, the wronged brother, who rushed to embrace his twin.” The knife bounced up and down with every word. “He threw his arms around Jacob and kissed him.
Then
the brothers wept and reconciled.”

Clay turned to the sink and stared at the hot water streaming from the faucet. The pan filled and overflowed. “You’re saying I’ve got my expectations backwards.”

Leigh tucked the knife carefully into the dishwasher. “I am. You’re waiting for him to apologize to you. Maybe you need to make the first move, to be the one to embrace him and apologize.”

“But he’s the one who’s wrong.”

“By biblical standards, yes, he’s wrong. But, Clay—” she laid her hand on his arm and waited until she had his full attention—“by the same criteria so are you. And I’m not referring to our history.”

He dropped his eyes from her intense gaze and stared at her hand resting on his arm. It was delicate in appearance but full of strength, like her, unafraid to call a spade a spade.