His Name was Harley Manfield

By T.A. Webb

Copyright

His Name was Harley Manfield is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any

resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by T.A. Webb

Cover photograph from iStock.com

Cover Art by Laura E. Harner

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-310512-186

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Dedication

To all the people who have lost, and yet find the strength to get up again.

And to those who are afraid to throw their heart out there…do it. Someone will catch it.

Tom

Chapter One

His name was Harley Manfield. He was the one who brought the three of us

together in the first place.

The very first day of college, I found myself walking into one of those huge science

classes, nervous as all get out. There were only a couple of seats left around one of the

lab tables, and before I knew it this big smiling goof grabbed me and this other guy who

was glancing around and plopped us down with him. Within an hour after class, he

and Gary Parker were my new best friends.

By the end of the first week, we were sitting outside one of the student hangouts,

sharing pizza and a pitcher of Coke, and Harley decided we all had to move in together.

Over the Christmas break, we all packed up our stuff and moved into a rental house

together. Gary and I went home to visit our families, and we got back to find the whole

house settled and unpacked, a Christmas tree was up and what smelled like heaven

wafting in from the kitchen.

What we didn’t know and never thought to ask was why Harley didn’t go home. He

didn’t have anywhere to go home to. His parents died when he was a kid and he was

raised in foster care.

The three of us sat down to dinner that Christmas night, Harley at the head of the

table. He’d made a ham and all the trimmings, and we toasted each other with

sparkling cider. The joy on Harley’s face made everything worth it. As I looked around

the table at my two best friends, I knew this was my new family, and I resolved to make

sure Harley always had someplace to go and someone to be with.

When we graduated, Gary and I started as salesmen with Fleming Brothers

Securities, just before the big mutual fund explosion in the nineties, and we rose quickly

through the ranks, making piles and piles of cash.

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Harley always wanted to work with kids, so he used his humanities degree to work

in a homeless shelter. It didn’t pay for shit, and he worked his ass off, but he always

came home wearing the biggest smiles and had the best stories about his day. We were

like the Three Musketeers and it was all-for-one and one-for-all, and all that. e all

pitched in and the bills got paid.

When the opportunity came along for us to buy the house, there wasn’t any question

the three of us were all in. We all sat down and looked at the asking price and our

income, and Harley tried to pull out of the deal. He didn’t want to hold us back, and

since he didn’t make as much, thought he’d just rent somewhere.

It hurt my feelings and Harley wouldn’t meet Gary’s or my eyes, but there was no

shaking him from it.

When Gary and I went to the closing, we didn’t tell him we put him on the deed

anyway, even if he wasn’t on the mortgage. I loved him and so did Gary, so that was

that. We just told him what to pay and to shut the fuck up.

Our lives lasted for a few years like that, the three of us against the world. I can’t tell

you how many beers were downed, how many girls—and a few guys, in my case—we

dated and laid, or how many good times we had.

But like all good things, I guess, the fun had to end. I was offered a great promotion,

but had to move. To Maine. I stewed over the decision for two weeks before I told the

guys about the opportunity. I saw the hurt in Gary’s eyes, but only the happiness in

Harley’s. He was like that, though – never a harsh word or a hard feeling. He grabbed

me in a hug and wanted to know if moving was what I wanted. And of course I had to

go! Only an idiot would turn something like that down, right?

So I went, but we kept the house. Then it was Gary’s turn. He was offered an

analyst’s position on Wall Street and again, Harley loved him right out the door. We

kept the house and let Harley keep living there with his small rent. We never told him

the real amount of the mortgage, and that his portion only covered most of the taxes

and insurance. He wouldn’t think about getting roommates. This was our home. And it

was, for a few more years.

As often happens, life intervened and the trips back to Atlanta became fewer and

fewer, at first just on the odd weekend and the holidays. For the first couple or three

years, Christmas was still our time together. Gary and I would fly in to spend the week

between Christmas and New Year’s, and there would be a tree and decorations and

back-thumps and love. But the fourth year Gary was married and had a kid on the way,

and I was planning my first holiday with my new boyfriend.

Harley, as always, took it in stride and there was no problem. In fact, he sent us

pictures of the house, as well as shots of him with one of the young men from work he

had grown attached to over the years. The kid—Eric—was twenty now and a good

looking young man. Clearly, he’d outgrown being Harley’s tag-a-long little brother

anymore and the way he looked at Harley made me catch my breath a little.

When I called and gently poked fun at him for his young boyfriend, his laugh was a

thing of beauty. Harley never looked at another guy that way. He was straight as an

arrow. I felt a pang that I had missed seeing him that year. Then I didn’t make it the

next year. And the new baby was keeping Gary and Liz busy. Before I knew it, I hadn’t

been home in almost three years.

When I got the call from Eric a week before Christmas, telling me Harley was dead,

that all changed.

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Chapter Two

When the phone rang around three-thirty that morning, I almost didn’t answer it. It

was freezing in Bangor, and I was cocooned in blankets. Alone. Because the whole

boyfriend thing doesn’t work so well when he won’t come out of the closet.

Everybody knows that phone calls after midnight are always bad news. But I

figured it was answer the damn thing, or lay there and worry all damn night.

“Hello,” I grouched out.

A small silence, then a tentative voice. “Is this Jim Cook?”

“Yeah, who the hell is this? You do know it’s,” I looked over at the clock with one

eye, “three-fucking-o’clock in the morning, right?”

“I’m sorry.” The caller sighed heavily. “I needed to talk to you and I forgot what

time it is.”

I waited.

Another sigh.

“I’ve got some…news for you. It’s about Harley Manfield.”

That woke me up. I sat up and my mouth went dry. “Harley? Who is this? What’s

going on?”

“This is Eric Lafayette. We’ve met once or twice at Harley’s at Christmas, but it’s

been a few years.” His voice sounded bitter and raw.

I did remember the boy – well, man now. It had been a few years, but yeah, I

remembered him.

“What’s going on, Eric? Where’s Harley? Can I talk to him?”

“No, you can’t talk to him.” What sounded like a choked sob broke across the line.

“Mr. Cook, Harley died about thirty minutes ago.” Then there were quiet sobs.

I was numb. I heard him but the meaning of the words didn’t get through. Harley

couldn’t be dead. I just talked to him…got an email, no, a check and a note? Oh shit.

I could hear a voice but I couldn’t connect the words to myself. “Eric, what

happened? He can’t be dead. You have to be making a mistake. Let me talk to him.”

“I was here with him. He wanted me to call you first, and I promised. I promised.”

He lost control again for a moment. “I promised to call you when it was done and tell

you so you wouldn’t worry. He didn’t want you to worry about him.”

“What happened? Fuck it, kid, what the hell happened to Harley?” I yelled.

“He fucking died of cancer. He had cancer and he was in so much pain and he

wouldn’t let me call you or Gary and now he’s gone. I held his hand and watched him

go and now I have to tell you and don’t fucking yell at me. Fuck you!” Eric shouted

back at me. “Fuck you!”

That brought me up short. Eric was there, Harley was dead. Dead? I’d deal with that

later. This kid needed help.

“Kid…Eric. Is anybody there with you, man? I’ll be on a flight down in about three

hours and there as soon as I can get there. Do you have someone there that can help

you? Somebody to call the…who-the-fuck-ever needs calling?”

Eric’s breath evened out, and he calmed down. “The home health care worker was

here since we knew it was coming. She called the funeral home and they will be here in

about forty-five minutes. I...I…I washed him off and he’s ready to go. He just wanted

me to call you so you could plan to come down for the service. It’s all planned and he

wanted you to know so you could take care of the house and all that. Everything of his

is all packed up and ready for Goodwill, and we already gave away most of his other

stuff.”

He was babbling, I could tell it seemed to calm him down, and I could feel my shock

wearing off some. Harley had planned everything without me? He didn’t let me know?

My best friend was dead? And all that Harley had worried about was the fucking

house? My eyes burned, and my heart hurt.

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“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Eric, I’ll call Gary and we’ll see you in a few hours.

Can I do anything for you?” It was the least I could do. He seemed to be hurting.

“No. I’ll clean up things here. I don’t have to work. Hell,” he gave a nasty little

laugh, “I don’t have to worry about that job again anyway. I might lie down for a few

minutes, though. The couch is still here. I just can’t use his bed. I can’t.”

“Go into my room and take a nap. Don’t bother with anything else, just go and get

in the bed right now. Let the worker deal with the funeral home, okay? Can you do that

for me?”

“Yeah. I am a little tired I guess.” He sounded wiped out and heartbroken.

“Eric? It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” And he hung up.

It was much later that morning, after calling Gary and both of us crying a little, that I

wondered why I felt so jealous that Eric was there and not me.

Chapter Three

Gary was getting into Atlanta close to the same time I was, so the plan was for him

to meet me at baggage claim. When I got off the plane and walked down the ramp,

though, I saw Gary waiting for me. For a minute, I saw Harley with that huge goofy

grin of his standing there. I blinked, and then it was just Gary again.

I hugged Gary and we walked down to baggage claim. But there was this space

between us that felt empty. For so many years, it had been Harley in the middle,

holding us together. Now, there was a Harley-sized hole between us that I felt all the

way to my soul. How could he be dead?

We grabbed a taxi to the house. The plan was to get there and see what was going

on. Gary’s shock was as great as mine, but he seemed really surprised that Harley and I

hadn’t been in touch more over the past couple of years.

“You two were always closer than Harley and I were,” he said. “After I got married

and the babies were here, I kind of lost track, I know. But you guys were always so

tight. He loved you, you know.”

I got in beside him in the cab. After settling in, I said, “Shut the hell up. He loved us

both. I loved him and I love you, you dumbass.”

He gave me a long look but didn’t say anything else about it. The rest of the ride was

all talk about our jobs, his kids—my godchildren. I’d already gotten their Christmas

gifts and shipped them off to him. I planned to stay in Bangor for the holidays, since my

family hadn’t handled it too well when I came out.

I’d been invited to New York to stay with Gary and his family, but I didn’t want to

intrude. And frankly, Gary’s wife always looked at me like I might try to take a bite out

of her man. I didn’t have the slightest interest, and we laughed about it, but if it made

her uncomfortable, then I would stay home. Now, I was sad and feeling guilty that I

hadn’t even considered spending the holidays with Harley.

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The last time was so…strange. Gary and Liz came down for two days with the kids,

and Harley and Eric played host, but there was some strange tension. Eric was in his

twenties now and kept glancing at the three of us, and every laugh we shared seemed

to make his backbone grow even straighter and more tense. I caught more than one

glare at me when I hugged Harley – the three of us were always so handsy. Maybe

that’s what set Liz off.

The thing was, Harley had practically raised Eric. The boy had been kicked out of

his house at thirteen, beaten and bloody for being gay, and ended up at the shelter

Harley ran. When he turned eighteen, the funding for his care ran out, but Harley got

him an apartment and a job and bullied him into attending junior college after he

passed his GED. I’d seen Harley look at Eric with pride and love, as if he was his own

son.

I think Eric had a bad case of hero worship and maybe a bit of misplaced lust in the

mix, too. Harley was a good looking man. About six-two and two hundred well-built

pounds, he had curly, strawberry blond hair and the sharpest, most gentle blue eyes.

Even in his early twenties, Harley had already been developing crow’s feet from the

constant smile he had on his face, and the laughter that followed him around.

There was a time when I had a little crush on him myself, but I couldn’t bring myself

to tell him or act on it. I valued his friendship too much, and the thought of the kind but

firm thanks-but-no-thanks I figured I would get from him made me stomp those feelings

down like the traitors they were. It might be settling, but a little of Harley was better

than none at all.

God, I was going to miss that man.

I realized I’d quit listening to Gary and he noticed too, and I smiled sheepishly at the

grin on his face. He reached over and pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear,

“I’m so sorry, man. I’m going to miss him so fucking much, but we still have each other.

So don’t you even try to lose me, you asshole.” I could feel wetness against my face

where his tears met mine. I just held on and missed the fucker.

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Chapter Four

We’d each brought an overnight bag and a garment bag for our suits, so it was easy

work to unload the trunk of the taxi and make our way towards the house. It still

looked the same after all these years. All the memories came flooding back of us being

cocky little fucks, renting, then buying this house and all the good times we’d had.

And now one of us was gone and the house looked the same. Shouldn’t there be a

hole there somewhere? Shattered windows or a crater from the blast? But no, the

cheerful porch with the same old swing hanging from the beams greeted us, the lion’s

head door knocker we’d found somewhere in the mountains in Tennessee staring out at

us.

I unlocked the door and we went in quietly, hoping that we wouldn’t disturb Eric,

that maybe he’d managed to get some rest. The house had that sickbed smell to it. No

matter how much you tried, if you’d ever been around a person with a prolonged

illness, there was a clinical undertone to everything. Even the wonderful smell of coffee

that drifted in from the kitchen couldn’t quite mask that odor.

We dropped everything in the foyer and found Eric sitting at the small kitchen table,

a mug of coffee between his hands and his head bowed.

“Come on in, guys. There’s fresh coffee in the pot and you know where everything

is. Harley,” and here his breath caught a little and he swallowed. “Harley didn’t change

a goddamned thing from when you two lived here.”

As I walked by, I dropped a hand on his shoulder in sympathy as acknowledgement

of his grief and was surprised to feel him flinch. Eric was a good looking kid. No, he

was a fine looking man, I had to correct myself. I did the math, and he was about

twenty-five now. All traces of the quiet little beaten-down kid were gone. When he

stood to get us mugs, I could see he was about six feet tall with a nice lean build,

auburn hair badly in need of a cut, and chocolate-brown eyes, rimmed in red.

I had to shake off a quick burst of heat and thought badly of myself that I’dI would

be registering this kind of thing when we were here for such a fucked up occasion. He

handed me a mug, then passed one to Gary.

We all sat at the little table, and a silence fell over us all. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but

maybe none of us wanted to open the floodgates of what we all knew had to be

explained. So I guessed it would be me to start it.

“Eric, tell me what happened. Please.” I looked up into his face and hoped that

would be enough to start the ball rolling.

He waited and looked down at his hands. Just when I was about to ask again, he

started.

“Back in January, Harley went for his physical like he did every year. Only this year,

when they did the whole, um, prostate exam thing, the doctor felt something funny. So

he sent him to see a urologist. They did the tests, and it was already too fucking late. It

was cancer, and it had metastasized to his lymph nodes, and there were cells in his

liver.”

Almost a year. That fucking bastard. I couldn’t tell whether my eyes were burning

from grief or anger. Or both.

“The diagnosis was pretty grim, and Harley wouldn’t have the surgery because they

couldn’t guarantee it would make a difference of more than a few months. The liver

was more of a concern. He agreed to the hormone therapy where they kill the

testosterone production, you know?” He looked up, and both Gary and I nodded. We

both were pushing forty now and knew what could face us as we aged.

“It seemed to work. The tumors were still there but not growing. Harley kept

fucking working,” and here Eric’s eyes dripped hot tears, “because you know there

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were always more and more kids he had to save, like he did me. And he wore himself

out, you know how he is…was.”

My heart was breaking and I reached over to grab Gary’s hand with one of mine,

and wrapped the other around Eric’s. He was like stone.

“He wanted to wait ‘til Christmas was over and tell you two. He thought he had that

long, and he thought….” He looked up and speared me with a glare. “He thought you

might come home, and that you,” and Gary got his own hot stare,” might bring those

babies of yours to see him one last time. But you know the fucker—he wouldn’t just

come right out and ask his two favorite people in the world for something. No, then he

might have to want. And God knows he couldn’t let himself want, now could he?”

There was more pain there, and I could only guess what some of it was. Maybe he’d

tell us, or maybe it was too private, but I could sense Eric had loved Harley, and Harley

had loved him. As a son. And once Harley had you in your pigeon hole, you couldn’t

jump into another one.

Gary must have felt it too, and he glanced up at me with a little crooked smile. He

knew Harley as well as I did, and he must have read the currents here, too. We waited

for Eric to go on once he mastered himself again. His face was a war zone of grief,

anger, bitterness, and this little-boy-lost look that made me want to pull him to me and

hold him close.

“Well, he fell sometime while he was making Thanksgiving dinner and I didn’t find

him until that night. The doctor said it would be a matter of days. So I quit my job and

moved in here with the home health worker and we took turns trying to keep him

comfortable. He wouldn’t let us take him to the hospice where he could get twenty-four

hour care. No, he wanted to die in his home. His home with the man he loved.”

Eric stood suddenly and left the kitchen. Gary and I looked at each other and tried to

deal with what he had just said. The man he loved? What the fuck did that mean?

Harley had loved Gary and me like brothers, and he’d loved Eric like a son.

I must have said it out loud, because Gary turned those soft eyes to me and gave me

a pitying look. “He meant you, buddy. Harley loved you.”

“He loved all of us. He was like a brother to me,” I said as if by rote.

“He loved you. Jim, Harley was gay and he loved you.”

“No,” I jumped up from the table. “No! He was straight and he was my brother and

he didn’t love me like that. He didn’t! Say it, Gary. You’re lying. Why would you say

that?” My hands were in tight fists in my hair and my heart was racing. It couldn’t be.

Gary got up and pulled me against his chest, rubbing my back like I figured he did

with his kids when they were pitching a fit.

“Jim, he came to see me in New York right after Liz and I had Matthew. He was just

named Executive Director, but he also had an offer from an agency in Bangor and was

considering it. He came to ask me if I would be upset if he asked you out on a date. If I

thought you would maybe go out with him, see him like something other than a best

friend or brother. You’d just started up with Scott, and I told him he had my blessing,

but that he should know you were seeing someone seriously. He just nodded and

played with the kids, then went back to Atlanta. He sent me an e-mail to let me know

he took the ED gig here and not to mention anything to you.”

“Oh, no, please tell me this is just a fucking nightmare, Gary. Please, please just let

this be over with and let me wake up, and I promise I’ll call him tomorrow and fly

home and tell him I love him and this whole clusterfuck will never have happened. Just

let it be over,” I cried into his neck.

I felt something behind me and then two more arms were wrapped around me, and

Eric had me from behind and helped Gary hold me as I cried out my pain and grief.

When I realized where we were again, I was sitting on the floor, propped up against

both men who petted me and soothed me as if I were a small child.

“Jim,” Eric murmured in my ear, “he loved you so much. He couldn’t see me as

anything but a kid or a friend. You were the love of his life and I hated you for so long

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for that. I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you or him. I loved him, and I see you loved him

too. I’m so sorry. I would’ve called you sooner but I was just so mad, and I thought you

knew it already and turned him down. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I didn’t know. I loved him so much and I didn’t know.”

“Shh, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll all get through it. It’s okay.”

I saw a look pass between Eric and Gary but I was too destroyed to wonder at it at

that moment.

Chapter Five

We decided to rest since the Day-From-Hell had taken the energy out of all of us.

Gary went to his room, and I told Eric to go back to mine. He couldn’t handle being in

Harley’s, so I took his room. Standing in the doorway, I took it all in—how it felt so

strange to see all of his personal items gone and boxed away. I knew at some point, I

would have to deal with my feelings about being left out of the loop, but I was too

empty to think about that now.

I decided I couldn’t sleep with the ghosts in the room either, so I grabbed a pillow

and went to the den and crashed on the sofa. The quietness of the house was like a balm

to my sore nerves. This was what I missed about being in Atlanta. My house, the

memories and love we’d built here. This was always home when my parent’s house

wasn’t an option anymore. I wrapped myself in that comfort and dozed off.

I awoke to murmurs coming from the kitchen. Dragging myself up off the couch and

through the darkness, I heard my name and stopped just short of the door. Gary was

talking to Eric, and I paused to hear what was going on.

“He’s really not happy in Bangor. The job is still good, but he can do that in almost

any city he wants. Since that fiasco with Scott, he’s been a hermit up there. He thinks I

don’t know what’s going on, but his feelings for Harley kept him from coming back to

Atlanta. And Liz, well, she’s my wife and I love her and the kids more than anything,

but she just never got how close the three of us are. Were. She’s jealous of Jim and

Harley, which is just seven ways of fucked up.”

“You think he will come back down here now? With everything so messed up? I’m

so sorry about how I’ve been treating him, but I loved Harley too, and he wouldn’t even

see me as a man. I asked him out, and he just told me to go find myself a nice young

man.” Eric laughed, a bewildered sound. “I tried ‘nice young men’ and all I got was

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fucked over. The last guy I went out with ended up trying to borrow money from me to

pay off his dealer.”

Eric and Gary shared a rueful chuckle, and Gary said, “Not all guys are assholes. But

I tell you, between you and Jim, sounds like you two may have cornered the market on

jerks. Didn’t Harley ever go out? It would kill me to think he just had work and nothing

else.”

“No, he tried a few times after he came back from New York. I think it was him

trying to fuck Jim out of his system. Then, work just was always so important to him,

and he took care of me and his project du jour.”

“Now you stop it right there. You were more than just a project to him. Every

fucking time he and I talked, or I got an email from him, it was ‘Eric did this,’ or ‘Did I

tell you Eric got named to the Dean’s List?’ He was so proud of you, and you know he

helped so many people over the years, but there was only one you.” Gary’s voice was

hard.

“I know, I know. I wish I had been better friends with you and Jim. For so long, it

was just me and Harley, and that was enough. Then when I tried to make things right

with my family, they started spewing all that hate at me again. ‘Faggot’ was as nice as it

got. And Harley helped put Humpty Dumpty’s pieces back together again. With him

gone, I just don’t know what I’m going to do. I quit my job to take care of him, and now

I don’t have a place to live. I gave up my apartment and have been staying here.”

“We’ll come up with something,” Gary promised. “This house isn’t going anywhere.

Jim and I aren’t planning on getting rid of it. It’s still home, in a weird way.”

I figured it was time to let them know I was there. An idea had been forming, but I

needed to think about it and talk it over with Gary first.

“Hey guys,” I said. Both heads swiveled my way. Gary looked a little guilty, a little

tired, and a lot…something else. Assessing maybe? Eric just looked drained. Poor guy. I

really needed to do something for him and soon.

He’d done my job. It should have been me taking care of Harley.

I sat down and started the conversation we should have started this morning.

“Eric, I know I haven’t said it yet, but I appreciate everything you did to make

Harley’s death,” and here I gulped down my emotions, “as easy as possible. He was

lucky to have such a good friend. Can you tell us, what are the funeral plans?”

Eric got up and grabbed three bottles of water from the fridge and sat one in front of

each of us. He pushed his hair out of his face and leaned his chin on his hand. He really

had nice eyes, I thought. Striking chocolate brown. For the first time, I really looked at

him. Longish brown hair. Long fingers on hands that looked worn rough with hard

work. He could stand to gain a few pounds– his face was too lean and drawn.

I shook off my reverie and forced myself to listen to the details. The service would

be in two days, at the funeral home off Peachtree Street.

“He wanted to be cremated, and his ashes spread in the yard here. It was,” Eric

gulped, “his way of being part of the house forever.”

Fuck, hadn’t I cried enough for one day?

UUL

Chapter Six

We spent the next day talking off and on about our memories of Harley, laughing,

getting a little drunk and then a little maudlin. But the thing about Harley was you

could never stay sad for long when you talked about him. He was so full of happiness

and did so many good things, it was hard to work up a bad temper about him.

Neighbors and old friends spent the day calling and dropping in to see Gary and me

once word spread what had happened and that we were home. There were more

casseroles and pies and cakes than we could eat in a month of Sundays, and we called

down to the shelter and had them send a van to pick up much of it for their clients.

There was one cake we kept, though. Miss Lily, the older lady who lived next door,

made a homemade German chocolate cake and woe be to the motherfucker who tried to

take that from us.

The day of the funeral was dreary, cold and wet. The three of us made our way to

the funeral home, and it felt like a dream I’d been in all week, and was ready to wake

up from. No, not a dream. A fucking nightmare.

There were people everywhere. The chapel was overflowing. Thank goodness we

had asked the planner to cordon off the front row for us. We were Harley’s family, and

it was time to say goodbye to him. We sat next to Liz and the kids. She had refused to

stay at the house, and Gary was in the doghouse for staying with Eric and me. One

more sin for her to lay at my door, I guess. I loved her and the kids with all my heart,

but fucking really?

The testimonials from those who knew Harley both brought joy to my heart and

broke it. So many lives this man touched. So much good he did. So how the fuck could

he cut me out like that? When it came our time to speak, Gary was passionate about

him, Eric subdued, and me? I stood up there and told about how we all met, how he

was our family and how the hole in my life and heart might never heal.

Then it was time to go to the reception back at the house. The ladies in the

neighborhood had shooed us all away and set up everything, and the set-up was what

one would expect at a Southern funeral. Food, laughter, food, tears, and did I mention

food?

When it was all over, I grabbed Gary and asked him to go for a ride with me. He

looked longingly at Liz and the kids, then at me. I know I begged with my eyes, and he

softened and agreed. I left him to explain to Liz and Eric where we were going, and I

saw the thinly veiled hurt in her eyes one more time. But she kissed him and waved to

me. Eric nodded his head and went back to playing with the kids. He was terrific with

them and had served as a buffer between Liz and me all day.

We went to sit in Harley’s Honda in the parking lot of the shelter Harley had run so

well for so many years. I needed my best friend to hear me out.

“I’m so fucking angry with him, Gary. How could he do this to me? To us?” I knew I

sounded petty and small, but I needed to talk it through before I could move forward.

Gary took my hand in his and sighed. Oh shit. That meant something I didn’t want

to hear was coming.

“And how is what he did any different from what you’re doing to me? To him? You

know, you loved him all these years and never said anything to me or to him. And now

you weren’t going to come to Christmas and see me and the kids because of this thing

with Liz. So try to remember that, okay?”

I felt sheepish. He had a point, but the realization was like a knife in my heart.

“I’m sorry, man. I love you, Mattie and Alan, but it’s not the same thing and you

know it. God,” I collapsed back in the seat, “why couldn’t we all have just stayed here

forever? The best days of my life were with you two. I could have taken care of him.

Maybe…”

“Jim,” he broke in, “you aren’t responsible for what happened. It sucks. It isn’t your

fault. He died of cancer, not because you didn’t love him enough.”

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Fuck. That one took my breath away. Leave it to your best friend to grab you by the

short curly ones with one hand and bitch slap you with the other.

“Right. I know. Fucker. I love you, you know. When you get to New York, you get

checked out for this shit, please? I can’t lose you, too,” I begged.

“Deal. If you do the same thing when you get back to Maine. Okay?”

“Deal. Now, there’s something I want to run by you. It’s about the house.”

He turned in the seat to face me. “I’m listening.”

And I told him.

Chapter Seven

When we got back to the house, I was excited. Gary agreed to my plan, and I shooed

him out the door to the hotel to be with his family. He needed comforting, and while he

was mine in ways Liz might not be able to understand, he was also the rock for her and

the boys, and they needed him.

That gave me time to talk to Eric. I found him in the den, head back against the sofa

and eyes closed. I sat beside him and put my hand on his arm to make sure he was

awake. He started, and rolled his head over to look at me.

I turned sideways on the couch and looked at him. Yeah, he was tired, worn out,

and grief-stricken, but so was I. And I wanted to try to make some of that better.

“I’d like to talk to you about something, if you feel up to it,” I started.

He nodded. “What about? Do you want me to start looking for someplace to stay? I

figured you and Gary would be looking to get the property ready to rent or sell. I’ll start

tomorrow.”

“No, no, nothing like that. It is about the house, though. I have a proposition for you.

I had an idea and I need your help to make it happen.”

He looked at me and nodded. “Go on.”

“I’d like to do something to make Harley’s work live on. He loved kids so much,

and we have this house just sitting here. What Gary and I talked about is setting up a

shelter for gay kids and calling it ‘Harley’s House’. We’d get a lawyer and incorporate

or set up a non-profit status or whatever we need to do. That way we can get grants to

help support it and keep it running, but it can be right here, and we can help at least a

few kids at a time. We’d like you to run it for us,” I trailed off as his eyes got bigger and

bigger.

He stared at me, and I thought he may have been about to turn me down or yell or

something. But all he said, in a flat voice, was, “I’m not qualified for something like

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that. Jim, I only have a bachelor’s degree. I know you have to have at least a master’s for

something like that. It’s a great idea, but I can’t help you.”

Of everything I expected, all the answers he could have given, that was the one I

didn’t expect.

“We set it up and we can make the rules. And I want you involved. I know Harley

would, too. You know how he worked better than anyone. And if you have to go get

your master’s happen, then I’ll pay for that to happen, too.”

He exploded off the sofa. “I’m not a fucking charity case! I may have been at one

time, but it’s been a long time since I needed somebody to pay my bills and make my

decisions for me. I’m a grown man.” He shouted down at me, hovering, his fists

clenched.

“Whoa, I’m not telling you what to do, Eric. I thought this would be a good thing. If

you don’t want to do it, we’ll do something different.” I stood up so he didn’t tower

over me.

He got right up in my face, pushing my chest with a finger. “Harley may have

thought I was a kid, but let me tell you something, I’m not. I’m a man.”

I pushed him back. “I can see that. I never thought anything else.”

His breathing still ragged, he glared at me, and then lunged, grabbing my face and

giving me a brutal kiss. Holy fuck, but the guy could kiss. And those hands, all rough

and big and holding me against him.

I reached down and pulled him to me by the hips, feeling how hard he was. My

erection tented my sweats, and the friction from grinding against him was filling my

vision with stars. Or maybe it was lack of oxygen, because he was taking my breath

away.

I pulled back to catch my breath, and saw how wide his stare was. He shook his

head and started to pull away. I could see the embarrassment starting to roll across his

face like a thunderstorm, but I was having none of that. I pulled against me, then

flopped backwards onto the couch, him on top of me. I took his mouth, grinding and

restarting that fantastic friction from earlier.

He resisted for a minute, then moved against me, grinding his hips into mine and

humping my cock. I reached between us and pushed his sweats down his thighs, then

did the same with mine. The feel of naked flesh against mine was good–damned

good—and something I had denied myself for too long. I reached between us and

grabbed both our cocks, lining them up together, and started stroking. He moaned into

my mouth, making me squeeze tighter.

As hard as we both were, it only took a couple of minutes until we both bucked into

my hand and shot. We panted into each other’s mouths, and the feel of him on top of

me was comforting. I’d missed this, the connection, the rush of feeling a spark with a

man.

Eric finally sighed and pulled away, standing and pulling his sweats back up. Oh

shit. I recognized second thoughts and post-orgasmic regrets too damn well. I decided

to pre-empt it. I could fight dirty when I needed to.

“Are you ready to take the job? Harley would have wanted you to, and he’d be

proud you’re keeping his work going,” I said, still laying there covered in our loads

with my sweatpants around my knees.

“I can’t talk about this with you right now,” he said. He couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Especially after we did…that.”

I reached out and grabbed him by the leg, squeezing his calf hard. “Hey, there’s

nothing to be ashamed of here. I needed this, and so did you. Eric, look at me.”

I waited and he finally glanced down and met my eyes.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, I’ve only been here a couple of days and I can

see how much you needed someone to take care of you. I’m grateful for you and what

you did for him, but Eric, you need to let some of that go. I know you gave up a lot to

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take care of him, and he wouldn’t want you to deny yourself a little pleasure. You

deserve some happiness, too.”

He looked at me so sweetly, but so sadly. “So do you. But don’t tell me you aren’t

pissed off at him for never telling you how he felt. That you aren’t fucking furious that

he might have cheated you out of however many years of happiness you two might

have had together.”

I froze, all the blood rushing from my head. Eric must have noticed the direct hit.

“Yeah, I thought so. So excuse me if I feel a little fucked up. I think we both have

some things to think about right now.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. How the fuck had he turned this on me? I loved

Harley. I wasn’t mad at him. Not really – what kind of asshole is mad at a dead guy?

Kicking off my sweats, I stripped off my shirt and strode into the bathroom and

slammed the door. I flipped on the shower, and when I had the water adjusted how I

liked it, I grabbed a washcloth and started to clean the dried cum off my chest and

stomach. My mind tossed and turned those words Eric had said over and over.

I dropped the bottle of body wash and tried to pick it up, but it was soapy and

slipped back down into the tub. I tried again and the damn thing fell again. Before I

knew it I had thrown it against the shower wall and splattered soap everywhere. I sank

down in the tub and just let the water wash over me, my breath coming in great gasps.

The anger battled with the grief, and I could do nothing except ride the waves.

God, would this never end? I couldn’t remember the last time I cried, and it seemed

like all I did the past few days was howl like a wounded animal. I heard the click of the

bathroom door, and felt Eric as he moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my

chest. My head and heart were heavy with grief, but I managed to look up. His eyes

were red and his face wet from more than the shower as he held me. Together, we

released our anger at the man who loved us both, but not in the ways we needed or

wanted.

Chapter Eight

We sat in the lawyer’s office on the twenty-third of December for the reading of the

will.

I guess there weren’t any big surprises there. He left his part of the house to Gary

and me. He had already given away or had Eric donate all of his personal items, even

his clothes. When the attorney read off how much money he left Eric, with the

recommendation he go back to school, you could have knocked him over with a feather.

I grinned at Gary. Now he couldn’t use school, money, or anything, for that matter,

as an excuse to not run the shelter Gary and I wanted to set up in our old house.

What was a surprise, though, was the envelope the attorney handed each of us. I

could see immediately that the handwriting was Harley’s, and we all three looked at

each other.

“Mr. Manfield asked that you gentlemen each read the letters separately. He

completed them and gave them to me right before he went into the hospital in

November. While there’s no requirement, he asked to request that you follow his

wishes. Gentlemen, if you have no other questions,” he looked to us all and we shook

our heads, “I’ll file the necessary paperwork. And, of course, issue the check to you, Mr.

Lafayette.” The attorney moved to usher us out. It was almost Christmas, and I guess he

had a family to get home to.

We all stood outside the office looking at each other. Since we drove over in Eric’s

car, we decided to grab some lunch, then head back to the house. The conversation was

light as we tried to figure out what could be in the letters. Gary was due to fly out later

in the evening so he could spend the holiday with his family. I knew he was torn,

wanting to stay and share comfort with me, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Those kids needed

to see their daddy, and I loved Liz in spite of her unreasonable jealousy.

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At home, we each went into our own bedrooms. We’d set up the guest room for Eric

and he went there, quietly closing the door.

I stared at the envelope for a moment, lost in thought. The anger I felt was mostly

gone, but it had been replaced by bone-deep sadness. Grief was there, too, but mostly I

felt the tiredness that came from wishing the past could be changed. If only…two of the

saddest words in the world. If only….

Heaving a sigh, I tore open the letter and leaned back against the headboard to read

it.

Dear Jim.

I can just picture you sitting in your room, leaned back reading this. You always used to read

in bed, and I liked to walk by your door and see you there, glasses on and so deep in a good book

you wouldn’t have noticed if the house was on fire.

I know you’ve talked to Gary by now and know about my trip to New York. I won’t say

much about that other than to say, I’m sorry. You deserved more than that from me. Who knows

what might have happened, but I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t choose me, and then it was too

late.

And now it’s really too late. And I can’t say it enough – I’m so sorry. I’m sorry we never got

our chance together. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry I didn’t call you and let you know what

was going on. I’m sorry I was a coward in so many ways.

I never told you, but you and Gary probably saved my life. You two took me in and let me be

your brother and your friend and your family. I think I would have faded away into nothing if it

hadn’t been for you two.

You might think I didn't want to see you at the end because I was trying to be strong. It was

more that I was afraid all the time. So very afraid that I'd messed up so badly that the three best

people I have ever known would leave me like everybody else in my life did. And that’s what I’m

the most sorry for – I’m sorry I was a coward.

Don’t follow in my footsteps. I see you burying yourself in your loneliness in Maine, and

you deserve so much more than that. A man with a huge heart like yours needs to share it. If it

can’t be with me, don’t be afraid of giving it to someone. And who knows, that someone may be

closer than you think.

Jim, I love you. Always have and always will. I’m glad for every moment I had with you. If

there’s a God, I pray to him I get to see you again. Not now, and not soon, but someday.

Yours forever,

Harley

*

How long I sat there I don’t know.

Gary was the first to come in. The door opened and he was there, sitting on the foot

of the bed holding his letter in his lap. It wasn’t long before Eric came and sat on the

side of the bed with his envelope clutched in his hands. We formed a loose circle, not

meeting eyes.

I handed mine to Gary, and he gave his to me. We sat and read, and I learned how

much he loved the kids, and that the weekly phone calls to Uncle Harley made his days

bright. How even when he was sick and hiding it, he drew strength from Gary’s family.

When Gary finished mine, he looked up at me with glistening eyes and a trembling

lip, and reached out for my hand.

Then Eric read his out loud. His voice strong, contained, he told us of Harley’s pride,

his love and his pleasure in how the son of his heart grew into such a caring, giving,

and loving man. How he wanted him to take that big heart and find someone to build a

life with, and to build a family of his own. How he wanted for Eric to spread his wings

and fly.

I took one of his hands, and Gary the other, and we sat there remembering a gentle

giant of a man. And I swore I could feel him sitting there, right in the middle, as always.

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Chapter Nine

Gary’s flight took off, but not before big hugs and promises to see him soon. He

made Eric agree, also. He and Gary had forged a fledgling friendship, and Gary’s look

at me over Eric’s shoulder as they embraced made me squirm. I don’t know how, but he

figured out something had happened between the two of us. The stare was at once a

warning, a question, and an admonition. I raised an eyebrow and gave him a shrug.

The drive back to the house was quiet, but in a comfortable way.

I didn’t have to be back at work until after New Year’s, so I planned to stay in

Atlanta for a few more days. I thought I might call my parents, try to see if that bridge

could be salvaged. Death had a way of putting small things into perspective. I was still

hurt at the rejection, but like Harley said, it might pay to step out and take a chance.

Neither Eric nor I had plans for the evening, so we called out for pizza and watched

sappy Christmas movies on cable. After the events of the day, I decided to go to bed

early and try to read. My e-reader and I made it about fifteen minutes before I was

asleep.

Christmas Eve started sunny and cool, and I stretched under the sheets, deciding if I

wanted to go running. It had been a week since I had gotten any exercise in, and I

missed the quiet of the neighborhood there. I decided I’d brave the cold, and after tying

on my sneakers, I headed out in the morning air. The yards were glistening with dew

and the cold morning air woke me up and made me feel alive.

Decorations were everywhere, and I felt a little bad that with everything that had

happened, Eric was going to be forced to celebrate his first Christmas alone in years.

That started me planning, and before I got back to the house, I already had ideas

solidified.

Eric was up and had coffee made, bless his heart. I fixed a mug, sitting with him

while he yawned and grumbled and made toasted bagels. While he puttered around the

kitchen, I asked if he minded if I borrowed the car. It was Harley’s, but he’d left it to

Eric, so I wouldn’t presume. He didn’t have plans, so I left him to his caffeine and went

to shower.

My first stop was to get a Christmas tree. I was afraid the selection would be bad

and it would be a Charlie Brown tree, but my luck was good and I found a beautiful

pine. The local Big Lots store was close by, and I got lights, tinsel, and ornaments. I

drew in a deep breath and bravely drove to Lenox Square Mall and dove into the last

minute crowds to find something for Eric.

I realized I didn’t know much about the guy, but I liked what I did know. A trip to

the kitchen shop and I had one of those single-cup coffee makers with all the bells and

whistles. I could figure his clothing sizes so a nice sweater and a couple of button-

downs filled out the list. They had one of those wrapping stands, so I had them take

care of boxing and wrapping, and then I dragged my last-minute Christmas back to the

car and headed home.

I took the tree off the top of the car and pulled it into the house. Eric came to see

what all the noise was about, and the shock on his face made me grin. Eric’s expression

melted into pleasure and he said,” You got a tree?”

I looked at the tree, then him, then back to the tree, and raised an eyebrow.

Eric turned a cute shade of red and brushing by me to help bring things in, I heard a

muttered, “Asshole”. I grinned and followed him out. Pretty soon we had the tree in its

stand and the decorations pulled out of their packaging

“Harley and I got rid of almost all of his stuff and donated his decorations to the

shelter. If you hadn’t stayed, I’d have probably just watched television and then gone

there and helped serve dinner tomorrow. Thank you for this,” he said quietly. He

wouldn’t look at me as he draped tinsel on the tree.

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I moved behind him and put my head on his shoulder. “You don’t think I would

have let that happen, do you? All these years this was your home, and you celebrated

Christmas here. It’s still your home. We just have to build new traditions.”

“We?” he asked.

I wrapped my arms around his chest. “Yeah. We.”

I turned him around and kissed him lightly. He gasped a little, then the tension ran

out of him and he returned the kiss, deepening it.

“That okay with you?” I needed to know.

“More than okay,” he whispered into my mouth.

We stood there in the den, kissing for a few minutes, then turned back to the tree. It

was dark outside, and as we tidied up and put the presents under the tree, I nodded for

him to turn the tree lights on. He flipped the switch and I turned off the lamps.

“Beautiful,” he said. He put an arm around my waist, and looked at me. “And the

tree’s not too shabby either,” he teased.

I smacked his ass and laughed. He tackled me and with an oomph of air, I hit the

ground, him right on top of me. He laughed and looked down, his face growing really

tender. I reached up and pulled his head down in a kiss.

Long moments went by as we explored each other’s mouths, and the slow easy pace

of our hips rocking against each other built. Reaching down, I pulled his shirt up and

over his head, raising my head to one nipple to lick and suck. He drew in a lungful of

air and arched into my mouth, grabbing my head and holding it tight against his chest.

Gently biting then licking one tight nub, I ran my hands down his back and onto his

ass. One hand went into his waistband and I groaned when I discovered he went

commando. He pulled free from my mouth and reached to unbutton my shirt and let it

slide to the floor.

Quick, sure hands unbuttoned my jeans and thrust them down, yanking my socks

off in the same motion. He fumbled with his own button and zipper until I reached

down to steady his hands, stroking his fingers in reassurance. When we were both

naked, he lay back on top of me and grabbed my hands, pulling them onto his ass as he

rocked against me again.

I snaked a hand between us to hold his cock. It was so hard and yet so soft, velvet

fire in my hand. The heat coming off him was stoking my own passion, and I grabbed

his hips and pulled him up to straddle my face. He looked down at me, asking

permission, and I took hold of him and guided him to my mouth. I swirled my tongue

around the head, enjoying the salty bitterness, then, with my hand around his shaft,

sucked the head and a couple of inches in.

He bucked, and I held firm with one hand around the base of his cock. I hollowed

my cheeks, giving him the friction he needed. My other hand grabbed my own cock and

I stroked it hard and fast. His hips were thrusting, so I let his shaft go and grabbed his

ass, allowing him to take what he needed.

He thrust deep into my mouth, in control but right on edge, I could tell. I brought a

finger into my mouth beside his cock, wet it and pressed it against his opening. He

bucked forward, gagging me before pulling back. I eased a finger in, and he yelled out,

filling my mouth with his load.

A few more strokes and I shot against my stomach and his back. As I licked and

sucked the last of his spend, he reached a hand down to steady himself. Easing him

down, I moved him beside me on the floor and pulled him against my chest.

We lay there, watching the lights flicker on and off, each lost in our thoughts.

“What’s going on in your head?” he finally said.

I thought for another moment, then said, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be here

tonight than with you.”

He pressed his face against my neck and I could feel his smile. And I knew I had one

tugging at the corner of my own mouth.

Reaching up to kiss me, he asked, “What do you say we take this to bed?”

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“Sounds like a plan.” I looked up at the clock on the mantle. It was after midnight.

As we got up and went towards my bedroom, I pulled him close and said, “Merry

Christmas, Eric.”

“Merry, Christmas, Jim,” his warm voice drifted back to me.

I turned and looked back at the tree for a moment, and I could almost see Harley

there, a cup of eggnog in his hand, eyes twinkling, giving his blessing.

I raised a hand to him and whispered, “I love you Harley Manfield. Merry

Christmas,” and took Eric to bed.

The End

About the Author

T.A. Webb is the writing name for the Mean Old Bear That Could. He's worked with

people living with HIV/AIDS and with children in the foster care system for over

twenty years, and takes the smaller pay for the chance to make a difference for those

who can't help themselves. After hours, he's the proud single papa of four rescue dogs,

was born and raised in Atlanta, where he still lives, and is a pretty darned good country

cook.

His sister taught him to read when he was four, and he tore his way through the

local library over the next few years. Always wanting more, he snuck a copy of The

Exorcist under his parents' house to read when he was eleven and scared the bejesus

out of himself. Thus began a love affair with books that skirt the edge, and when he

discovered gay literature, he was hooked for life.

T.A. can be found at Facebook under AuthorTAWebb, tweeted at #TomBearAtl, or if

you really want to, you can email him at [e-mail].

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Also by the Author

Dreamspinner Press

Second Chances

Hot Corner Press, with Laura Harner

Deep Blues Goodbye (Altered States #2)

Deadly Shades of Gold (Altered States #3)

From A Bear on Books

:

Let’s Hear it for the Boy

City Knight (City Knight #1)

Knightmare (City Knight #2)

Starry Knight (City Knight #3)

Knights Out (City Knight #4)

Darkest Knight (City Knight #5)

Odd Man Out (City Knight #6)

with Laura Harner, Lee Brazil and Havan Fellows

Love on a Wing and a Prayer (Goodreads “Love Has No Boundaries 2013”)

The Broken Road Café (The Broken Road Café #1)