Chapter 2

Two

7 a.m.

Titus was scrambling some eggs at the stove when he heard the back door open.

"You're early."

"Am I?"

"Yes. I'm not completely helpless, you know?"

Roz entered the kitchen, placing her purse and car keys on the table. "That's debatable," she said.

"Well, y'all are just in time for breakfast."

"Just coffee for me. The little one is still half asleep."

Titus reached into a cabinet and grabbed a mug for her. Roz accepted it, and when she went for the pot, Titus saw Shelly had been standing behind her, eyes droopy.

"Hey, sugar-pop," he said. "Tucker's still in bed if you want to join him."

She nodded with glazed eyes, moving toward the hall sluggishly.

Roz took her cup to the table and sat down. Titus spooned some eggs on a plate and joined her.

"You know, most folks put a shirt on before making breakfast."

Titus shrugged lazily. "In all fairness, I wasn't expecting you until eight. Another fight?"

"Disagreement would probably be a more apt description."

"The guest house is yours if you want it. Rent free. Just leave his sorry ass and come live with us. You practically do already."

"He's not sorry, T. He just sees things a little differently."

Titus reached for the salt and pepper. He held them up single-handedly in front of her. "This is how he sees things."

"He doesn't have a problem with you being white. He has a problem with you being gay."

"Maybe you shouldn't have told him," Titus said. He dusted his eggs with the seasonings before returning them to their caddy.

"If I hadn't, he would have thought we were shacking up a long time ago."

Titus looked at her, eyebrows raised. A slow grin crept up his cheeks.

Roz mirrored the expression with a chuckle. "I know. It's ridiculous. But no one ever sees you, T. You know how people in this town talk."

"Fuck people."

"James also says he doesn't like me being your maid."

"You're not my maid. You're my housekeeper… and Tucker's nanny."

Roz sipped from her cup. "It is pretty much the same thing, wouldn't you say?"

"So, he's ashamed. Doesn't want his wife working for a gay white dude."

"A rich gay white dude. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"What about you, Roz? Do you feel that way?"

"Hell, no. You know me better than that. I don't care what people think. You and Tucker are family to me. But I'm not gonna leave him, T. James may have his insecurities, but I love him. He is Shelly's father, you know?"

"Well, the offer's open, and I'd still pay you for all that you do. You know I can't cook more than eggs unless a grill is involved. You don't want us starving, do you?"

Roz stood, mussing Titus's dark hair. "You'll be fine." She took her cup to the sink.

"So you're considering it? Leaving us?"

Roz turned. She leaned back against the counter and sighed. "Not immediately, but I told him this would be my last year. Shelly and Tucker are growing like weeds. They'll start preschool next year, and you won't be needing me near as much as you think."

"I'll always need you, Roz."

"What you need, Titus Shepherd, is to stop being such a damn recluse. Violet died over two years ago, and how many times have you left this property since? You don't want Tucker to think it's normal behavior, do you, holing up on the homestead, being antisocial and all?"

"I told you I'd start going to the grocery store for you."

"Well, that's something, I guess. But not really what I mean. You're young, T. You should be living life. Meeting folks… dating."

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

"Why not? Violet pretty much gave you carte blanche."

"I wouldn't know where to start, Roz. Meeting someone, some… man."

"What about Macon? Augusta? That's where Barb goes, right?"

"I don't like it and she knows it. It's dangerous, and too far to drive for a chance meeting in some dark and sleazy bar."

"I'm sure it's not that bad. Barb has nerves of steel, though. That's for certain."

"She doesn't have a child."

Roz paused, considering. "I see your point there. But there's gotta be some way, T."

"I tell myself that all the time. Think about it every day–how nice it would be to love someone… to be loved."

"It'll happen. When you least expect it, so the cliché goes."

"I keep hoping maybe a guy will show up on my doorstep one day. You know, like pizza delivery."

"I don't think it'll be that easy. But you're a catch, T. If you get out there, someone's bound to take notice."

"Maybe. But will that someone love Tucker too?"

"It'd be impossible not to. He's the sweetest child on earth. So much sweeter than mine."

"Folks looking for love aren't necessarily looking for a kid, Roz."

"Why not? Two for the price of one."

"Your optimism is charming, if not sound."

"You should try it, T. Don't knock the power of positive thinking."

Titus grinned. He closed his eyes and raised the fingertips of one hand to his temple. "Oh, I can see it now…"

"Don't be a smartass," Roz turned her back to him, rinsing out her coffee cup.

"There's a man," Titus said, melodically, mock-prophesying. "A handsome stranger at my front door. Excuse me sir, he says, but I'm looking for a someone–a single man like me, preferably with a kid."

"Now, you're just being an ass."

"Instant family–just add water."

"I think it's more than water you're looking for."

"There's that too, Roz. Do you know how long it's been since I–"

"Yes, I do." She spun back, tossing a dish towel at him. "I see the empty lotion bottles in the trash. You ain't exactly the moisturizing type."

Titus's face flushed red. "Sorry. I thought I was being discreet."

"You are. But when people are around each other as often as we are, things are more… apparent ."

"I launder that stuff–hand towels and such–when you're not around. I swear I do."

"You better."

"A man has needs, you know?"

"I do. I have one at home, remember?"

"It's just–I don't have any other way of taking care of business . Sometimes, just thinking about the possibility gets me all worked up inside."

"OK. I've heard enough." Roz went to the stove and turned it on. "You go swim your laps. Work off some of that business . I'll make breakfast for the kids."

"Yeah." Titus glanced at the clock above the sink. "I guess it is about that time."

He stood, took his plate to the sink, and washed it, using the towel Roz had thrown to dry it. Before he passed through the doorway to the hall, he turned.

"Thank you for all that you do for me and T. I mean it. I probably don't say it enough."

Roz smiled. "It's unnecessary, but you're welcome. Thank you for the opportunity. It's been ideal, really. I get to see my best friend every day, and spend time with my daughter instead of using daycare. I get paid, I'm not punching a clock, and the scenery is beautiful. Truth be told, I'm gonna miss it—especially you and Tucker."

"What will you do… after?"

"I haven't given it much thought. I love kids. Maybe I'll start a daycare. Run my own business like you and Alden."

"I'd back you in a heartbeat. I know a solid investment when I see one."

"That's sweet of you to say. Who knows? Maybe I'll take you up on it. The question is what are you gonna do?"

"Me?" Titus said, eyes wide. "Without you? I have no idea."

"Me either. Because you, Big Britches, are a full-time job."

Titus went up to his bedroom. He changed into one of his new swimsuits and grabbed a towel from the linen closet in his bathroom. Before heading back downstairs, he stuck his head in Tucker's bedroom. Both kids were still sound asleep, curled like commas, facing the same direction. Cherubs in a painting.

Roz is right , he thought. They are growing fast .

Outside, he welcomed the warm muggy air on his bare skin, chilled from the air-conditioning. He was a large man, six-four, and close to two hundred fifty pounds. He hadn't taken part in sports since he'd graduated high school five years prior, but he kept in shape as best he could by swimming laps in the mornings. Nothing fancy, just freestyle slow and steady for twenty to thirty minutes. Not only did it help him keep his weight down, but he also found the task mentally soothing. It was a ritual he'd picked up with football practice–only then he'd jog slow laps around a track–using the rhythm and his breathing to clear his mind and collate his thoughts.

It was also a good way to distract him from the idea of Roz leaving.

Big Britches .

He hated change, especially the disruption that came with losing things… games, friends, love. They'd called him Big Britches in school because he'd come from old money. People who didn't know him assumed that his success was because of his family and their wealth, something he was passionate about disproving. Roz knew better, of course. She used the moniker occasionally with affection, as did others he was close to, namely Barb and Alden.

Titus tossed his towel onto a lounger, strode around the pool's smooth warm decking to the opposite side, lumbering yet graceful for a man of his size. He stood at the pool's edge, as he did every morning, staring into the clear, still water. A wispy haze was evaporating on its surface, fleeing with dawn as the sun rose higher. Using the heels of his hands, he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes and dove in.

Despite the pool not being heated, the water was warm. Titus came up for air beneath his first stroke and began the first of many laps.

He took losses personally.

In high school, he'd led the Hoke County Hawks to four championships beginning his freshman year, silencing naysayers soon after making the team. He and Alden, his friend and quarterback, had been the magic combination, not only in winning but in building a foundation for HOCO's future as a state contender.

But even though they had been the mortar to the bricks of that historical team, deep within, Titus had known that something set himself apart from his teammates. Physically, he was the same as any other teenage boy, but something at his core was distinctly different.

Barb picked up on it long before high school, being raised together and having a similar distinction. At thirteen, both had been obsessed with the television show Moonlighting for different reasons. Barb was smitten with Maddie Hayes, the former high-fashion model turned private eye, and Titus was equally infatuated with her silly but sexy cohort, David Addison.

They kept these adolescent crushes to themselves for some time.

Roz didn't come along until high school. She was a cheerleader. Barb had seen her at a pep rally and was instantly smitten. Titus had warned her not to act on her impulses, but once Barb had set her mind to something, there was no changing it. She invited Roz to join them one day at their table in the crowded cafeteria where the three of them took to each other immediately, bonding over typical teenage drama with a connection so strong they'd lingered well past lunch and late into their fourth period classes.

Because of this initial connection, and Roz's admitted infatuation with Malcolm-Jamal Warner, Barb did not reveal her secret crush that day. No. That didn't happen until the following summer, when the three of them were riding dirt roads on a Saturday night. Titus had swiped a bottle of bourbon from his father's well-stocked bar, and the three of them were sitting on the tailgate of his truck, passing the bottle around. They took turns sipping warm whiskey on a hot summer night, the moon so bright it seemed surreal, casting shadows like the sun.

"I'm gay," Barb blurted, brazen from the booze.

"Tell me something I didn't know," Roz said.

"If you knew, then why didn't you say something?"

Roz shrugged. "Figured it's your business. You'd let me know when you were ready."

Titus remained quiet, listening to the two of them.

"I had a crush on you. A little one. Before we met."

"I thought you might. Do you still?"

"No. I don't think so. I think the three of us have something else, though. Something beyond all that. It's like we were inevitable. You know what I mean?"

"I do. But I'm still glad you told me."

"Marcus Aurelius said to accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together ."

"Did he?" Roz asked. "Sounds kinda fancy. You sure you're not just trying to get into my pants?"

Titus, mid-swig, spewed bourbon with a choking chuckle.

"For your information," Barb said, "Marcus Aurelius was an emperor and a stoic philosopher, well respected during his reign of the Roman Empire and even now, two thousand years later. But if it makes you feel better, no, Roz, I promise I'm not trying to get into your pants."

"That's good. Because I'm strictly dickly."

This comment made Titus laugh harder, a contradictory guffaw that sounded both spontaneous and forced, echoing awkwardly through the still night.

Roz took the bottled from him and sipped. "What about you, T? You got something you want to tell me too?"

Titus studied her face in the moonlight. There was no malice or jest, just a simple question seeking a simple answer. He held her gaze for what seemed an eternity, then looked down at the dirt and gravel beneath his swinging feet.

"If you are, it's OK," Roz added, glancing back at Barb. "Y'all are my best friends. I would never betray that."

She took their hands in hers, squeezing gently, and they sat that way for a good while. Eventually, Titus broke the silence. "I'm not sure," he said.

Roz nodded. "Fair enough."

In retrospect, that felt like a loss, Titus thought, as he pushed off the side of the pool and began another lap.

Maybe if he'd been honest with himself and his two closest friends at that moment, he would be happy now. Instead, he'd suppressed his nature, lost it in the undertow of expectation, both familial and societal.

It wasn't a total loss, though. A son was born, and he couldn't imagine life without his sweet Tucker.

He'd done everything that was expected of him. If there was a punch list for the only child of a blue-blooded southern family, he'd completed it. He had been the high school football champion, married the town's sweetheart, ensuring the torch would be passed down. He had followed in his father's footsteps by starting a successful business, and, like his daddy, could probably be mayor one day should he choose.

He'd known love–the love of his family, friends, Violet, and Tucker.

But he was divided—always had been. He was a tormented beast, thwarted by the absence of what he craved more than any of the things he'd accomplished–the love of another man.

Outside, he'd tried to be a hero, but inside, he felt hollow. And instead of acting on the selfless, heartfelt blessing of his deceased wife over two years before, he'd remained a coward, using Tucker as an excuse. Now, his division had manifested into different forms–the ghost of his former self abroad, and the real deal, moldering in isolation.

Something's got to change , he thought, reaching for the lip of the pool, unaware that he had swum ten additional laps to his usual thirty.

He stood at the shallow end, panting, and wiping the water from his face.

"I thought I was going to have to throw my shoe at you."

He opened his eyes, and Roz was standing there. The sun was bright now, the haze gone, and the temperature rising. She had the large cordless phone in her hand, its extended antenna looking alien in their surroundings.

"What's wrong?" Titus asked.

"There's a man at the gate. Silas sent him. Says Carlos is gone indefinitely. "

"Is he OK? What happened?"

"Who knows? It is Silas Compton you're dealing with."

"Don't remind me."

"Should I buzz him in?"

"Uh, yeah… yes, please." Titus was flustered. His morning routine had not only been interrupted by Roz's giving notice, but now a stranger was here–a stranger that would require orientation to the grounds. "Tell him I'll meet with him, I guess… to, uh, discuss things."

Roz rolled her eyes, grinning at his befuddlement. She reached for his towel on the lounger and handed it to him.

"It's not the end of the world, you know. He's just here to cut the grass."

She removed her palm from the receiver, pressed a couple of buttons, and turned, heading back to the house.

"OK." Her voice faded as she went. "Sorry for the wait. When the driveway splits…"