Prologue

SPRING 1993

Dear Titus,

Surprise! Bet you weren't expecting a letter from me. Just know that whatever condition you saw me in those last few months, I was much better when I wrote this on a sunny day in early December. Once finished, I will get it to Tuttle, instructing him to mail it to you one month after my death. I want to give you time to grieve and get your head on straight before I speak to you this final time. It's unusual, I know, but I needed to tell you some things while I am still well enough to communicate. Whenever I try to in person, you—my wonderful, thoughtful, caring husband and nursemaid—find ways of changing the subject. So, I got my thoughts on paper to let you know what I was trying to say—what I've wanted to say—for a while now.

You're the best, T. I couldn't have asked for a better husband or father for our child. Even though life threw a monkey wrench at us early on, you've always been so good to me. Thank you for that and thank you for giving me Tucker. I can't think of anyone else I would rather spend my last days with than you two. You're both my world.

If they were giving out spousal medals, you would win hands down. I know it's been difficult—me dying and you trying to care for both me and a baby. If there were some way I could have made it easier, I would have. That's another reason why I'm writing this—to acknowledge all the selfless time you devoted to me.

You are only twenty-one years old, T. Yes, you have a son to care for, but please don't make that your only focus. Please don't let our brief time together continue to keep you locked away from the world.

I can hear you now—"But I have a boy to raise."

Yes, you do. But there are two boys I'm concerned with. Tucker and you.

What I am about to say will make you uncomfortable. It was always challenging for us to talk deeply about personal stuff. Maybe if we'd been together longer, we would have become more open. But I'm dead now, so it's not an option.

I know that you're gay… or bisexual, or whatever. The labels aren't important. I may have always known, even at HOCO High and our beloved football games. I looked the other way. You were my big handsome football hero, and I was the doting cheerleader. Destiny brought us together, at least the way small towns do. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, maybe we would have grown apart. Who knows? But I thank God for you every day. And I have no regrets, especially now.

Living with you these last two years, I've seen the occasional glance you give a handsome doctor or nurse at the hospital. No judgment, merely observation. When you're as close to death as me, perception shifts. I would never hold this against you, T. We're all created in God's image and life is way too short to get hung up on religious rhetoric. So, what if you're enticed by the beauty of a man? I was, too. With you.

I'm not implying that you were lustful or contemplating affairs. I know you weren't. That's not you at all. What I saw was only an appreciative glance or, perhaps, a notion for something you had tucked aside… whether for me, or for your parents, or for the image a town like Spoon chose for you.

Please don't do this. Not anymore.

The two things I want most now are for you to raise our beautiful son and to be happy . If you want to ask one of those handsome nurses out to the Dairy Dream on a date, then by God, you do it. You deserve to be happy, and if there is anything I can give you from beyond the grave, it's absolution. Loving someone is nothing to be ashamed of. You have an enormous heart, T, and you need to fill it. Fate brought us together, but now you are free to be with whomever you choose.

Just promise me you'll use a condom this time, regardless of gender (yes, I'm laughing)!

So, there it is. I know your secret. I wish we had had the time to be comfortable enough with each other to talk about it because I like to think that we would have. In a way, I guess we just did. But know this—it doesn't matter. I love you and I know you love me, and our love created Tucker and there is nothing more precious to me than him, including you (Sorry! Yep, still smiling).

So, this is my final I love you . Live your life. Raise our son. To hell with anyone that gives you crap about it. Life is way too short—believe me—to worry about what others think of you. Even though it may not work, I absolve you from feeling any guilt about me. God dealt me a bad hand. I played it the best I could.

Thank you for everything.

Love you both.

Violet

Barb held the letter for a few more seconds before folding it and returning it to the envelope.

"Wow," she said. "That's quite a lot to digest."

"Now, you know why I wanted you to come over," Titus said. He turned off the light she was reading by.

They were sitting on the screened porch, watching firefly flashes bob in the heat of the early summer evening. The swimming pool glowed out there as well, an oasis in a black night of a thousand stars.

"So, she knew," said Barb. "Did you know she knew?"

Titus sipped from his whiskey glass. "I suspected. We've been in our own little worlds since Tucker's birth and her diagnosis. You pick up on things, I guess. Isn't that what married couples do? It's what I've heard, anyway. Her illness took precedence, so the topic was easy to avoid."

"And you loved her."

"Of course, I loved her. I was willing to forgo everything for her."

"I'm not sure that's love, Titus. I mean, had she not been dying, do you think the marriage would have lasted, knowing that you're gay?"

"Who can say? She summed it up best. We were dealt a hand, we played it. Game over. I loved her, and I love Tucker more than anything else in this world. He's a result of our love."

"And now she's giving you permission to live your authentic life."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that."

"What do you mean you don't know? Titus, her intent is clear. She wrote it down because she knew you'd react this way and wanted you to have it on paper . She knew you'd never throw it away… that you could always take it out and read those words."

"I thought the same."

"She's giving you your freedom… from beyond the grave."

"Tucker's my priority. You heard it yourself. She said to raise our son right."

"And to live your life. Be happy."

"Barb, we've known each other since we were little. I've known you longer than anyone outside of my parents. Do you honestly think I'm going to put myself before Tucker's needs?"

"No, but you don't have to. You can do both."

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Titus, you've got money. Daddy owns half the town. You haven't worked at the printing company since Violet got sick."

"I plan to devote myself to Tucker the same way."

Barb scoffed. "It's unnecessary. He's a healthy child, and you have Roz to help. You're young. You need to get back out there."

"And what, Barb? Start dating again? Men ?"

"Yes."

"You're not dating any women."

"No, but given the opportunity, I would. We've shared this secret for a long time, T. I think what Violet is trying to tell us— you —is clear. Life's short. Fuck what other people think."

"Agreed. But she was my wife and I'm not gonna go gallivanting around town with anyone while the dirt's still fresh on her grave—especially when there's a child to consider."

"Understood, but you've got to get out of this house, T. You've been a hermit for over two years now."

"So what? Alden can run the business without me. I have a home. I'm happy here."

"You still worry about what this town thinks of you."

"And you don't, Barb? I mean, I don't see you out there, living an alternative lifestyle ."

She rolled her eyes at his use of the trendy phrase. "It's not a lifestyle, T. You know that. The only choice you're making is suppression—and we're both guilty of that. I'm going to take what Violet said to heart. I hope you do too… eventually."

They sat there, quiet for a while, listening to the drone of crickets and frogs. Titus's property was a few miles outside of town, and he cherished nights on the porch like this, away from civilization.

" Do you care what this town thinks about you?" Barb asked.

"Nope. Not anymore."

"So, this is about Tucker."

"Mostly. I also think about other folks. Like Mason."

"Mason?! Why in the hell would you think about him?"

"You know why. He was in love with Violet. He thinks I stole her from him."

"This is going to sound cold, but I don't know another way to say it. You spared Mason from having to go through two years of hell, watching someone he loved wither away."

"You're right," Titus said. "It does sound cold."

"Sorry."

"Do you ever think that maybe someone turns out the way they do because of something you did?"

"He was your enemy long before Violet came into the picture, T. He was always jealous of you being the Hawks' tight end."

"But what if our slip-up—Violet getting pregnant—prevented him from ever having a chance with her? You know… detoured his happiness."

Barb sat up. Even though it was too dark to see her, Titus could feel her eyes burning. "Do you really think Violet would have ever had anything to do with that little shit?"

Titus chuckled. "No. He was pretty transparent and clearly, she had a good eye. This letter confirms that even more."

"So, stop using Mason as an excuse. Get out there and find yourself a man."

"You know, I could easily say the same to you."

"I don't want a man."

"Ha. Ha."

"I know. Bad joke," Barb said. "But I am going to make more of a go of it. Surely, there's another lesbian somewhere in Spoon. God knows there're enough gay guys."

"Really?"

"You would know it if you hadn't been tucked away since graduation. Spoon is full of gay men, different generations. A lot of them are closeted, though, like us."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. Fear?"

"No. I mean, why do you think there are so many gay men in Spoon?"

"Who knows? Maybe something in the water."

"Well, if it's true, I don't know any of them."

"Yes, you do. I'll make you a list."

"What're you making a list of?" This third voice came from the darkness. It was Roz. She had joined them on the porch.

"Gay men in Spoon," Barb said.

"Girl, you may need more than one piece of paper."

"How come I don't know about all these men?" Titus asked.

"Because you never leave this house, Big Britches."

Barb grinned at Roz's use of Titus's high school nickname.

Roz continued, "I do all the shopping. I bet you don't even know we have a brand-new Blockbuster Video store. What are we drinking?"

"Crown Royal. Here. I have a glass for you." Titus picked up a highball glass from the tray on the coffee table and poured some of the amber liquid into it. "There's ice in that bucket and Seven-Up if you want."

"No need. It's so dark out here I can hardly see," She felt for and sank into a neighboring chair. "I finally got them down. Tucker's a dream, but Shelly's a handful. Whose idea was it for us to both have babies at the same time, T?"

"I'm grateful for it. And I do know about Blockbuster. Daddy's been talking about prosperous Spoon's latest addition nonstop."

"So, what did I miss?"

"Nothing. Just reliving our glory days."

Barb set her empty glass on the table for Titus to pour. "Speak for yourself. Y'all act like we're old."

"You don't have kids," Roz said.

"Or a dead wife," Titus added.

"Did you show Barb the letter?"

"Yeah, he showed me. What are your thoughts, Roz?"

Roz took a long sip from her drink. She had flawless ebony skin that camouflaged her as she sank deeper into her chair. Her gaze went to the fireflies outside the screen. "I think whatever T does is his own business."

"Thank you," said Titus, capping the bottle.

"You're only saying that because you know he wants you to say it."

"That's not true, Barb. You were always the big talker of the three of us. I say everything will play out in due time. Meanwhile, Titus has a son to raise. If that's his priority, I see nothing wrong with it."

Barb sighed, exasperated. She sipped from her drink.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Roz."

"You mean for agreeing with you," said Barb.

"That too, and for getting my young'un tucked away."

"That's why you pay me."

"You're much more than an employee. You know that."

"I do."

"James is probably wondering where you and Shelly are."

"Nope. He's working late. That's why I'm out here drinking with you ne'er-do-wells!"

"Hear, hear!" Titus said, raising his glass.

Barb and Roz raised theirs. Any minor tension between them had passed quickly, as it always did.

The three of them relaxed, continuing to observe the night, comfortable in their silence. Over the trees was the soft pink glow of Spoon. Far to the right, on the opposite horizon, came the paler glow of neighboring Morehead. Both were small towns, but good places to live and grow. Titus, Barb, and Roz knew nowhere else. They were friends, had been since childhood, and like the endless star-filled sky above them, would likely remain so forever.

"I'll be fine," Titus said. "We'll be fine."