Chapter 32
Tate backed out of the kiss and gave Julian a relieved smile. Then he pulled Julian into one that seemed to show his appreciation for Julian’s actions.
“We better take this next door,” Julian said. “Your mom will be home soon.”
* * * *
Through the month of November the pattern of Julian and Tate’s lives remained the same—dinners and evenings with Tate and Mrs. Butler, occasional nights out for a movie or a meal, and the eagerly anticipated Sunday mornings at the cottage.
Whenever Julian had thoughts of his relationship with Tate being more open, he reminded himself of how lucky he was to have this man in his life at all. He would be patient and wait until Tate was ready to come out to his mother.
Thanksgiving was approaching. Mrs. Butler surprised Tate and Julian by suggesting they all go to New York for the Macy’s Parade. “It was something we did as a family every year,” she said. “Then we’ll come home for Thanksgiving dinner. It will be good to get back to our traditions.”
Julian came over to the big house early on Thanksgiving morning. He and Tate helped Mrs. Butler with preliminary preparations for dinner. The warmth of the kitchen as the pumpkin pies baked, the jovial banter, and the atmosphere of holiday cheer made Julian feel happier than he had in many years.
They left the house and drove to the city. They were lucky enough to find a parking space within a reasonable walk to the parade route. They thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle. Julian felt he could see a physical transformation come over Tate as the day progressed. He seemed happier and more relaxed. Even to the point of putting an arm around Julian’s shoulders as he pointed out some balloon or performing group he found particularly entertaining.
When they returned home that afternoon, the smell of turkey, which had been placed in the oven to slow cook while they were gone, filled the house. Tate lit a fire in the dining room fireplace, while Julian and Mrs. Butler finished preparations for Thanksgiving dinner.
They sat down to eat. Mrs. Butler asked Tate to say grace, which he did, offering a brief prayer of thanks for the meal while all three joined hands. They laughed and talked as they ate. Julian couldn’t remember having a better Thanksgiving.
After the meal, Mrs. Butler explained to Julian another family tradition: that of telling something they were especially thankful for that year.
“I’ll go first,” she said. Julian expected her to say something about how grateful she was that Tate had made such a remarkable recovery, but he was wrong. Taking one of each man’s hands in hers and looking directly at Tate, she said, “I’m thankful for many things this year, but what I’m especially thankful for is that you have found a man to love you as you deserve.”
Tate had been smiling at his mother as she spoke, but when she finished, his smile faded and he stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights. With an open mouth he turned his gaze on Julian and then back to his mother.
She smiled at her son, took Julian’s hand, and put it in Tate’s. She then placed her hands on top of theirs.
“You…you…knew?” Tate stammered.
Mrs. Butler’s smile deepened. “Of course I knew. Mothers always know. Really, Tate, it was pretty hard to miss, the way you two looked at each other. I got quite a kick out of watching the two of you trying to keep from letting it show. It was a bit of a challenge finding ways to stay away from home on Sunday mornings so you two could have your privacy. Church services only go on for so long, you know. And you can only spend so much time cleaning the church kitchen after coffee hour.” She chuckled. “So, today, I decided if it was going to take you forever to make up your mind to tell me, I would have to give you a little nudge.”
Tate stared at his mother for a long moment. Still holding Julian’s hand in his, he said quietly, “What about Dad?”
Mrs. Butler smiled wistfully. “Your father was a wonderful man. He was very set in his ways and had very definite opinions on many subjects. But he loved you very much, Tate. I am absolutely positive that your happiness would have superseded any of his beliefs.”
Tate, with tears in his eyes, let go of Julian’s hand and hugged his mother.
“Now, Julian,” she continued, when she let Tate go, “you and Tate can spend the weekend deciding if you want to move in here with me, or if you and Tate want to have the cottage all to yourselves.” She winked. “Either is fine with me.”
* * * *
It was Christmas Eve. Julian and Tate had attended services with Mrs. Butler. They came home, exchanged presents, enjoyed egg nog and Mrs. Butler’s famous Christmas cookies. They all sat by the Christmas tree, quietly watching the flames flicker in the fireplace and listening to holiday music. Mrs. Butler sat in an overstuffed armchair. Tate and Julian sat next to each other on a love seat, each with a cat purring softly on their lap. Tate had insisted they bring them over to the big house saying, “They shouldn’t be shut up at home all alone on Christmas Eve.”
Again, Julian marveled at the way things had turned out. He and Tate were a couple. The individual needs of both men had been satisfied. How could it be better than this?
“Oh my,” Mrs. Butler exclaimed. “Look at the time!” She got up from her chair. “I’m going up to bed. Make sure the fire is out before you go over to the cottage, won’t you?” she asked as she walked to the couch where she patted the cats and kissed both Tate and Julian good night. They assured her it would be taken care of.
“Merry Christmas,” she said as she went to the door.
“Merry Christmas,” the men chorused after her.
She stopped and turned back to them. “Don’t stay up too late. Santa will be here before you know it,” she added.”
They all laughed.
She left the room. Tate pulled Julian close. “I’m pretty sure Santa has already come,” Tate said, looking into Julian’s face, his eyes full of love.
Julian couldn’t have agreed more. He leaned over and kissed his Marine…the Marine who no longer lived next door.