The Telling Page 12

  However, it wasn’t an easy-going, privacy-respecting Mom that he found outside his door, but a meddlesome Angie with absolutely no qualms about invading personal space until her curiosity was satisfied and he had no secrets left.

  “What are you doing here?” Michael asked.

  His sister folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

  “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. Let’s try again. Good morning, Angie.”

  A saccharinely sweet smile plastered itself to her face. “Hello, brother dear. Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to invite me in?”

  Invite her in? His eyes darted to the closed bedroom door. Maybe Jay would sleep a while longer. If he invited her in, let her solve her curiosity, maybe she’d leave. Soon. He stood aside and let her in. Sooner or later they’d have to talk, but at the moment ‘later’ got his vote.

  “Hmmm… You can tell Jay’s been here,” she observed as she wandered through his new apartment.

  The blood froze in Michael’s veins. “What did you say?” Oh shit! Soda cans and paper plates lay on the coffee table—a dead giveaway that he’d had a visitor the night before.

  Oblivious to his shock, Angie continued to scrutinize the apartment’s walls with a critical eye. “Jay did such a great job with the painting, don’t you think?” Finally noticing Michael’s pained expression, she cocked her head and pinned him with a questioning look. “You did know that he helped Mom fix up this place, right?”

  “Oh, that! Yeah, she told me,” he lied. It was then that her words sank in. “You mean you’ve never been up here before?” Please don’t ask to see the bedroom, please don’t ask to see the bedroom.

  “Well, Grandpa kinda told me not to ‘drive you insane by invading your privacy.’ But I think I’ve behaved myself long enough, and now it’s time to come hang out with my bro.”

  Yeah, but today? Why today?

  Michael stepped between her and the coffee table, effectively blocking her view. When she turned to gaze out the window, two paper plates disappeared under the couch cushions. The soda cans found a new home under a throw pillow.

  Too interested in the apartment to notice Michael’s impromptu housekeeping, Angie continued, “And in answer to your question, no, I haven’t been up here since they finished the place. I was too busy studying. But I helped in the beginning. I chose the carpet and paint. You can thank me later for my exquisite taste.”

  The mention of carpet drew his eyes downward to where a rumpled black T-shirt lay. Why hadn’t he taken it, too, when he’d picked up his own?

  His sister continued her inspection, pausing to thumb through his CDs, moving ever closer to the bedroom door while he kicked the shirt under the couch.

  He watched in horror as she moved closer and closer to the last place he wanted her to be. Jay snored. Surely she’d hear and ask questions. How could he get her away from that door? “I made coffee, want some?”

  The diversion worked. “Oh… coffee! I could sure use a cup.” Michael blew out the breath he’d been holding, leading her over to the bar that divided the kitchen from the living area. He sat on a stool facing the bedroom, strategically placing her back the door.

  With feigned nonchalance he glanced at the clock. “My, my, would you look at the time? Don’t you have to get to church? You wouldn’t want to be late for Sunday school.”

  “Michael Ritter,” Angie snapped. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you didn’t want me here.”

  “No, it’s not that,” he stammered, “I just don’t want you to be late.”

  Angie grinned. “I’m blowing off Sunday school and I’ve got plenty of time before preaching. Say,” she added brightly, “why don’t you come with me?”

  The blood drained from his face. Angie let him off the hook before he had to concoct an excuse. He really wasn’t good at excuses. “Oh, that’s right. Looks like you were in the middle of making breakfast. Well, don’t let me stop you.” She took a sip of coffee and scrunched her face in distaste. “Please don’t tell me this is decaf.”

  “Okay,” Michael agreed, “I won’t tell you.”

  She waved her cup at him and whined, “But it’s decaf! How could you? Mom raised you better than that.”

  Michael reminded her, “Caffeine is bad for my ‘condition.’” ‘Condition’ was said with the same amount of affection Angie used for ‘decaf.’ Silently he wished she’d be so repulsed that she’d go before her curiosity got the better of her and she started snooping.

  She took another sip, wrinkled her nose and sighed. “Sorry, kiddo, I forgot. If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.”

  Okay, so that didn’t work. What other reasons could he concoct to get her out of there? “So, what brings you here so early?”

  “What? Since when do I need an excuse to come see my favorite brother?”

  “I’m your only brother, Ang,” he reminded her.

  “So you are.”

  This was far from the first time they’d had this conversation, and he knew from experience that it meant she was up to something, something he probably wasn’t going to like. “Okay, Angie, out with it,” he urged, resigning himself to his fate.

  “You don’t trust me!” she exclaimed in mock indignation, giving him her best innocent look. Unfortunately, her performance fell short of innocence, only managing to achieve not-yet-found-guilty-by-a-jury-of-her-peers.

  Not about to be taken in by her antics, Michael raised a skeptical eyebrow and attempted a death glare. “Angie… “

  “Oh, all right! I wanted to talk to you about Jay,” she finally admitted.

  Michael’s heart somersaulted. She couldn’t know, she couldn’t possibly know. “What about him?” Michael croaked, fighting the urge to push her out the door and be done with it.

  “I wanted to ask how you feel about him.”

  Oh my God, she knows, she knows. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Michael attempted rational thought. This was Angie. If she knew she wouldn’t be coy, she’d come right out and speak her mind. Since getting rid of her wasn’t an option, he switched tactics and instead willed Jay to remain asleep and safely inside the bedroom until she left.

  “I know you don’t do anything without a reason,” he retorted, “so I want to know why you’re asking.” He leaned back on the stool, stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest.

  Angie sighed. Michael recognized that sigh. It usually occurred before something he didn’t want to hear. Sighs like that were often followed by things like, “I lost your favorite CD”, “I put a huge dent in your car,” or, “Sorry, but your cat just died.”

  Today it heralded, “Well, let’s just say that I believe that he likes you. A lot. I care about both of you and don’t want to see anyone get hurt.” Okay, that wasn’t too bad.

  Now, how to answer without giving too much away? “I’ll admit we’ve hit it off pretty well since we met.” Yeah, that’s an understatement. Certain images from the previous night replayed in Michael’s head.

  “Yeah, well I don’t mean ‘friend’ like, I mean ‘like’ like.”

  Michael swallowed hard in a futile attempt to dislodge a brick from his throat. “What you talking about, Angie?” He had a bad feeling about this, a really bad feeling.

  “Well, for one thing, he’s been talking about you one hell of a lot lately.”

  He had? Michael darted a gaze toward the bedroom door, his mind seeing the naked man sprawled across the bed. He shook his head to clear those thoughts before they triggered a tell-tale physical response. Taking a sip of coffee, he tried to appear casual. Five more minutes. Five more minutes and you’ve got to get her out of here. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he managed to say. “Mom talks about him all the time, but it doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

  His sister gave him an indulgent smile, setting her cup down and dropping another verbal bomb. “Yeah, well he doesn’t keep a picture of Mom hidden in his dresser drawer.”

  “He what!?”
Angie loved to surprise him, but she’d outdone herself this time. Jay’s comment, “ I keep pictures of the ones I love…” flashed through his mind.

  Grinning wildly now, obviously pleased that she’d scored a direct hit—though she didn’t know the half of it—Angie pressed on, “Yeah, he saw that picture of you, the one that was taken when you were inducted in the army. The official uniform one.”

  “Yeah, so?” He keeps a picture of me?

  His sister watched him like he’d once seen his grandfather’s barn cat watch a field mouse—right before pouncing. “Jay was just being Jay when he first saw it. He didn’t know I had a brother at the time and thought that picture was of my boyfriend. So he made some catty remarks about how hot you were.”

  Michael blushed, turning away. Jay thought he was hot? Unfortunately, judging by her knowing smirk, Angie noticed. And it was clear she intended tell the story as slowly as possible. He wanted to shake her and yell, “Just spit it out, already!”

  Unaware of how close she was to a good shaking, she fed him just enough information to whet his appetite. “He was obsessed by that picture, especially when he found out you were my brother. So, I kinda tested him.”

  If Michael had hackles they would have risen. He’d endured some of Angie’s tests himself on occasion. They usually didn’t end well for him. “Tested him how?” It was all he could do to keep his voice calm.

  “Well, I left the picture out, just to see what would happen.”

  Pretending it didn’t matter, he yawned and asked, “What did he do?”

  She just grinned and sipped her coffee. It was so quiet that Michael could hear the clock ticking on the wall and the muted thrum of Sunday morning traffic outside. Wait, was that a noise from the bedroom? Holding his breath, Michael listened, finally exhaling, relieved, when an engine rumbled to life down the street. A car door slamming. Just a car. Forcing himself to relax, he took a healthy mouthful of coffee and unwittingly played into her hands.

  With a wicked grin she said, “Let’s just say I had to get myself a new picture.”

  Michael sprayed the countertop with hot coffee, body convulsing in choking coughs. The demonic, evil being that had possessed his sister thumped his back a little harder than necessary.

  “He stole your picture?” he asked when he’d recovered enough to breathe again.

  Angie laughed, apparently enjoying her little game. “Yep. I never saw it again until about two months before you came home. I wanted to borrow a pair of thick socks, and I knew he wouldn’t mind so… “

  “So you snooped in his room,” Michel finished for her, mopping up the coffee mess with a dish towel. Again his eyes shot to the bedroom, his heart racing as sunlight reflecting off a passing car flashed across the door, creating the illusion of opening.

  “Hey, that’s not fair! I wasn’t snooping,” Angie argued, “I was just borrowing socks!”

  Michael snorted his disbelief. “What happened then?” He briefly debated tying her to a chair and interrogating her like he’d seen in bad spy movies, bright lights and all, alternated with images of launching her physically from his apartment in a giant catapult.

  “I found what had happened to the picture. It was lying there in his sock drawer.”

  “He buried it in his sock drawer, which means he likes me, why?” Please make your point and go, please just go.

  “Michael, Michael, Michael,” Angie said dramatically, placing her small, freckled hand on his arm and talking slowly, as though explaining to a child. “The picture looked liked it had been handled a lot. The edges were all ragged. And he framed it.”

  “Oh.” He framed it?

  “Yeah, ‘oh.’ He used to ask a lot of questions about you, but I figured it was curiosity, or maybe missing his own family. He has about a bazillion siblings.”

  “Six.”

  “What?”

  “He has six sisters, he told me.” He also told me their names and ages, and if they’re anything like you, God help him.

  “Telling you about his family now, huh?” She waggled her brows. “Well, anyway, like I said, he kept asking questions about you. Then when he found out you were coming home he got really nervous about meeting you. I’ve known the man for four years now. Trust me, he doesn’t do nervous, but he fretted for weeks. He even got a haircut the day before you came home.” She leaned in and whispered, “That’s why I asked him to drive you over here, so y’all could get to know each other.”

  “Why you…” Michael began, knowing he really should be grateful for her meddling. Look where it got him. He recalled something that had been bugging him. “Angie, how come you never mentioned Jay was gay before?”

  “Huh?”

  “In your letters and emails you always mentioned your friend Jay, but I thought he was your boyfriend.”

  “I didn’t?” she asked, eyes skittering to the side. He recognized guilt when he saw it, but remained silent. “You know the number one rule, right? Never out anybody. I didn’t think you’d care, anyway.” Her scarlet blushing belied her words.

  Okay, enough was enough. “Out with it, Angie.” Michael all but yelled her name, hoping that if Jay was awake he’d hear and know it wasn’t safe to come out.

  “I was kind of hoping that you’d meet and like each other, so I didn’t want to say too much about him. There was no telling what four years in the military might have done to my loving, tolerant brother.”

  “And Mom? Seems she would have mentioned it.” The light bulb suddenly came on. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Is this some kind of conspiracy?”

  Given her slow, plodding storytelling up until now, Angie’s reply came too quickly to be the complete truth. “I can’t speak for Mom, but he asked me lots of questions about you, and I knew he had the picture.” Angie stared pointedly at her coffee cup, avoiding Michael’s accusing glare. “I figured eventually he’d move on to someone he actually knew, or that y’all would finally meet and be friends.”

  Oh shit, maybe it would be better if Jay wasn’t listening in.

  This was just too surreal. His mom was a co-conspirator. It figured. Neither woman would deliberately hurt anyone, but he worried what effects their meddling, as well intentioned as it might be, could have on Jay. The need to defend his lover momentarily outweighed the fear of Angie discovering his secret. “Do you really think that was fair to him?”

  Angie sighed and shook her head, no longer smiling. “I know, I know. It was wrong for me to encourage his little crush, knowing you’re straight. But you should have seen him, how excited he was that he’d finally get to meet you. He’s a good guy. I really want both of you to be happy. I’m sorry if I meddled, I just got carried away, I guess.”

  “So what’s got you so concerned now that you had to come over here on a Sunday and talk to me?” Yeah, why don’t you leave and come back on Monday…

  “Well, I know you like him… as a friend,” she clarified. “I just thought I should warn you that his feelings for you might be deeper than that. I know you’re not a homophobe and wouldn’t hurt him physically, but I worry about you hurting him emotionally. I wanted to talk to you before we go for Sunday dinner with the grandparents, ‘cause I know they invited Jay again, so he’ll probably be there.”

  Michael stood and busied himself by pouring another cup of coffee.

  “Could I get a reheat?” Angie asked, extending her cup. If he gave her more coffee she’d stay to drink it, but he couldn’t think of a way to refuse that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. After topping off her cup and replacing the pot on the warmer, he washed his hands and resumed preparing breakfast, needing to burn off the nervous tension before he snapped like an over-wound rubber band.

  “Damn, boy, reckon you chopped enough onions and peppers?” she asked, appearing at his elbow to stare into the half-filled bowl.

  Michael jumped to suddenly find her so close, searching for a convincing lie. “I’m making meatloaf later.”

  She reminded him, “We’re eating
at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

  Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a convincing lie. “I meant tomorrow,” he improvised. Damn. Did that sound as lame to Angie as it did to him? And wasn’t she ready to leave yet?

  “So?”

  “So what?” He had to hand it to her, when she set her mind to something, she was nearly impossible to distract.

  “Will you please be careful with Jay and try not to hurt him?”

  “What makes you think I’d hurt him?” He turned his back, shielding himself from her prying eyes to blush in private.

  “If he thought you were receptive he might take that as encouragement and pursue you. Don’t get me wrong, he’d never go where he wasn’t welcome, and pardon my saying so, but you were sending out some mixed signals at the party the other night.”

  Oh my God. So she’d been paying attention after all. Michael forced down panic, wondering how many others had noticed. “What do you mean by receptive and mixed signals?” Sooner or later he’d have to tell her the truth, but he needed to talk to Jay first. No need to tell her about their relationship if it was only to be it a casual thing. He didn’t think she’d be angry no matter what, but still, now wasn’t the time.

  “Come on, brother mine; when it comes to these things, you’re clueless.”

  “I’m clueless?” I’m hiding a naked man—your best friend—in my bedroom, and you think I’m clueless?

  She snorted, a very unfeminine sound to be coming from such a delicate looking female. “Yeah, girls used to hit on you all the time and you were totally oblivious.”

  “They did not.”

  “Did, too. And the other night girls and guys were making you some pretty obvious offers and you just brushed them off like you didn’t care. But I know you, li’l bro, you probably didn’t notice. I was worried about Terry there for a few minutes.”

  Finally, to his immense relief, she dropped the subject. “Oh, Michael,” she crooned, “that’s so sweet of you, but you forgot that I can’t eat eggs.”