Chapter 17

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” Mrs. Butler said, placing a hand on Julian’s shoulder.

Smiling to reassure her, Julian said, “Like I told you before, it’s not a problem.”

“I’ve made a pot of soup, sandwiches, and a salad for your dinner. There should be more than enough food for the weekend. And let’s see…oh yes, I’ve made up the bed in the room across the hall from Tate’s. Mmm? I hope I’ve covered it all.”

“Please don’t worry. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

She hugged him and got into the cab. Julian waved and watched as the cab drove out of the curved driveway. When it was out of sight, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up at the big Tudor house. In the back of his mind still lurked the nagging suspicion that his motives for offering to stay with Tate were not completely altruistic. He reminded himself once again why he’d left New York, picked up his bag, and went into the house.

* * * *

Julian stood in the entry hall. The house was very quiet. The only sound was the ticking of the mantle clock in the large parlor to his left. The sound seemed strangely magnified in the silence. Julian wondered what Tate’s response had been when his mother told him Julian would be staying with him.

Julian set his bag down in the entryway, went through the living room into a room that, whatever its original purpose, was now obviously set up for Tate’s rehabilitation. Free weights and workout machines, a set of parallel bars, steps with a rail, and a ramp surrounded a massage table in the center of the room. In the far corner was Tate’s prosthetic leg which lay on a table.

Julian walked over and looked down at it. The upper part was flesh colored and resembled a normal thigh. From the knee joint down it did look like something from a Star Wars droid. If Tate wore long pants probably no one would notice he was wearing it, if his gait looked normal—Mary had said it would with this high tech prosthesis.

Julian thought of the brief moment of intimacy he and Tate had shared the previous weekend, of how Tate seemed to have a sudden change of heart when they had begun to go further. Could the reason he was resistant to moving forward with learning to use this device be the fear of rejection because of his handicap? Julian found that hard to accept. Tate was a physically beautiful man in every way—handsome, solidly built. If someone were to reject him because of his leg, well that person wouldn’t be worth it in the first place. But then Julian didn’t know how he would react if he were in Tate’s situation.

Julian continued his tour of the large house. He walked through the spacious formal dining room, poked his head into a small parlor, and went into a room with a grand piano where he plinked out a simple melody. He wound up in the sunroom.

It was a sizeable space, with many large potted plants, along with floor to ceiling screened windows. The windows were open, which allowed the summer air to flow freely, giving one the feeling of being out of doors. Furnished with comfortable looking rattan furniture, Julian found it to be delightful. If this were his home, he’d spend a lot of time here.

He walked across the room to the window in which he’d seen Tate on more than one occasion, apparently looking out toward the carriage house. Memories of the various encounters Julian had had with the handsome young man flowed through his mind as he looked out across the drive to his front door. They culminated in the most recent—when he and Tate had held each other and kissed.

“Looking for me?”

Julian startled, then turned to find Tate on his crutches, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I was,” Julian replied. He smiled as he walked toward Tate.

“I don’t need a baby sitter,” Tate said, an edge of resentment in his tone.

“I know that,” Julian said still smiling, hoping to defuse what could become an uncomfortable scene. “Think of my being here as a way to help your mother feel more comfortable while she’s dealing with a difficult situation.”

The air of defensiveness seemed to ebb somewhat. Tate sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Julian just shook his head slightly to show he wasn’t offended.

Tate went to a couch and sat down, laying his crutches on the floor beside him. Julian walked over and sat next to him. They sat for some time, Julian waiting for Tate to initiate conversation

“It’s just hard, you know? I…no one expects to wind up like this.” He gestured toward his legs. He was wearing shorts and his injured leg was next to Julian.