Chapter 12

Julian made himself a deli turkey sandwich and a bowl of beef noodle soup for his dinner. This Patch was more than interested in. She returned to the kitchen, announcing loudly that this was the fare she’d been waiting for. She circled in and out between Julian’s legs as he prepared his meal.

“Sorry, my dear, but Virge isn’t here to spoil you and I’m going to follow the vet’s instructions and feed you like a cat.”

Patch didn’t seem to agree, as she increased the insistency of her yowling. She was now stretching up, and with her paw, trying to reach the countertop and the plate on which the sandwich lay. Julian laughed.

He sat down at the kitchen table and ate his dinner, doing his best to ignore the cat as she continued to circle his chair. He’d almost finished the sandwich when he gave in.

“Okay but just this once, seeing as you’re in a new environment and need a little TLC,” Julian said, rationalizing his decision as he took a bit of turkey from the remaining bite of sandwich and dropped it on the floor. “But it’s not going to happen again.”

Patch wolfed down the tidbit and looked up at him with a, “Well, we’ll see about that,” expression before she walked off, purring loudly.

Julian sighed. He knew he was just as much a sucker for Patch as Virgil had been.

He then got up and rinsed his bowl and plate. He’d wash them tomorrow after breakfast. That done, he walked into the living room. He considered turning on the television, but opted for the computer instead, then realized Mrs. Butler hadn’t mentioned a password to connect with their Wi-Fi.

Checking his watch, Julian decided it wasn’t too late to call Mrs. Butler and ask for the password. The phone rang several times. Just as Julian thought it would go to voicemail, a male voice answered.

“Hello?” It was Tate.

Repressing the thrill that passed through his body, Julian said “Hi, this is Julian.”

There was silence at the other end of the line.

“Uh,” Julian said awkwardly, “I was wondering if you could give me the Wi-Fi password? I’d like to use my laptop tonight.”

“It’s Butler64, all lower case, no spaces,” Tate said in a monotone.

“Thanks. I hope I didn’t interu—”Julian started. But the line went dead.

Julian held the phone away from him and stared at it. What was going on with Tate? Why was he apparently so angry with Julian?

Finally Julian shrugged his shoulders. He had no answers to his questions. He got his computer, sat down on the couch, and signed onto the Butler Wi-Fi with the password Tate had given him. However, he couldn’t seem to concentrate. He gave up, closed the laptop, and turned on the television. After channel surfing for several minutes, he didn’t find anything he was really interested in, so he turned it off, and sat staring at the blank screen.

As soon as his mind was unoccupied it went, unbidden, back to the pool, and Tate. He could still feel Tate’s body against his, still see the fleeting look in Tate’s eyes when, for that brief moment, they held each other. The emotions that had been kindled also came back to him. And, once again, as at the pool, he sought to push them aside. But the more he tried, the more he found himself dwelling on them, as well as the questions his encounters with Tate had brought to his mind. What, he wondered, had happened that day in Afghanistan that had caused this outgoing, happy young man to change so drastically? Yes, he’d lost a leg. That was devastating, to be sure. But Julian couldn’t help feeling there was something more. Mrs. Butler felt that way, too. As did Mary, Tate’s physical therapist. From what Julian remembered of Tate from when he was his student, his not giving it his best effort didn’t seem in character.

Not finding an answer, and knowing the more he thought about Tate the more his feelings for the young man could grow, Julian got ready for bed. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would give him a better perspective. He needed to stop thinking about the troubled young former Marine who lived next door.

However, Julian, as he went to lock up for the night, found himself stepping outside to see if Tate was in the sunroom across the drive, watching the carriage house. And Julian found he was disappointed when Tate wasn’t there.

* * * *

Julian was awakened by Patch’s early morning demands to be fed. He looked at the clock on the night stand—6:30. He tried ignoring the cat, rolling over and attempting to fall back to sleep. However, the combination of turning in early the night before and Patch’s insistent meows precluded any success at that course of action.