Chapter 12

On Tuesday, Marc’s phone bleeped while he was leaving the bank. It was a text from Benjamin.

Marc? Can you come to my office at City Hall in the next half hour? Earlier if poss.?

The second text was an address. Marc copied it into Waze and checked how long it would take. He switched to his text program and replied.

Waze says 11 minutes. I’ll be right there!

He started the Jeep and was about to back out of the space in front of the bank when his phone bleeped again.

11 minutes?? From your place?

He grinned. From Grammom’s place, it would have taken at least the half hour Benjamin had proposed. He sent back a quick text.

I’m in town already. Bank errand for Donna. Driving!

He made it to City Hall in nine minutes.

Benjamin’s office was on the third floor. On the heavy wooden door was a small brass plaque: TOWN HISTORIAN’S OFFICE. Under that was a newer plaque, inscribed Benjamin Adams, M.A. Marc opened the door hesitantly.

The secretary was a short, thin, balding man with bottle-bottom spectacles that magnified his eyes. “Mr. Shelby? Mr. Adams is waiting for you. I’ll show you right in.”

Benjamin was on the phone. He held up a finger and mouthed, I’ll be right with you, and motioned to the red leather chairs in front of the big mahogany desk.

The office looked like a cross between a rich lawyer’s and tenured professor’s. Lots of leather-bound books in floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves lined one wall. Rich but understated fabrics, dark woods, and more leather were the predominant themes in furnishings. A spectacular view of the town center dominated the room through a nearly wall-sized window behind the desk. Marc sat and waited, trying not to eavesdrop but failing miserably.

“Right? That’s what I mean. Listen, Artamae, I’ve got Mr. Shelby in the room right now. Would you like me to put you on speakerphone?” Ben listened to the phone.

There it was again. Mr. Shelby. Marc shifted in the chair. I think it’s just his formality, his businesslike nature coming out. It’s just business etiquette. Don’t let it get in the way.

“All right, hold on.” Benjamin smiled and turned the phone around, pressed speaker, and put the receiver back in its cradle. “Go ahead, Artamae.”

The voice that Benjamin used when he read the letter so many weeks ago was spot on. Artamae had a Southern drawl that would knock most people down. Her voice was loud, even with the volume down.

“Congratulations, Mr. Shelby! We’ve authenticated the photographs that you forwarded to the Capitol and dated them to the 1860s, with an exact year of 1862, in Arkansas. We’ve documented one Samuel Posey to have been working alongside other daguerreotypists, such as Charles Richard Rees, McPherson, and Oliver. These men took pictures surrounding the area of Pea Ridge, the Elkhorn Tavern, and now your home.”

She took a breath and continued. “They knew Samuel Posey for his shots of the campsites and his portraits of soldiers. He also got a stunning final photo. His last shot was of the shot that struck and killed him.”

“I didn’t know about that,” Benjamin said. He leaned toward the speakerphone, his eyes lighting with that same interest that had made them dance when he talked about what it was like doing the recreations of battles.

“Yes, it’s actually quite famous,” Artamae said. “And, Mr. Shelby, we’ve been able to validate the picnic photos behind your home with the fireplace shot of your great-great-uncle William Shelby.”

“What about the letters?” Even though Benjamin had told him it would happen, Marc was in shock. They’d done it. They wouldn’t have to sell the house. They could open the bed-and-breakfast that Donna had suggested back when Grammom died.

“The letters are being examined as we speak, though we already have enough with the photographs to designate your home a historical spot. Several people up here are interested in the letters. They are still being validated, but aside from their obvious content, they’re mostly a curiosity that adds flavor to this find. I wish I had more information for you, Mr. Shelby, but documents are not my forte.”

“So, we’re good then?” Marc asked.

“We are brilliant, sir!”

Benjamin had picked up some papers while Artamae was speaking, and he finished signing a document as she continued.

“Mr. Adams is signing the temporary town charter for a historic address designation. The official state document should arrive soon.” Benjamin presented the thick document with a gold ribbon and stamp to Marc.

Marc held the document in his shaking hands. “Oh, my God! Thank you both so much.” He pulled out his phone, took a picture, and sent it to Donna.

“We should thank you for bringing these pictures to our attention,” Artamae said. “We’d love to have you and your family come to the State Capitol for an official ceremony in a couple of months.”

“Yes… yeah, I’ll let my sister and nephew know.” His phone pinged six times in a row, and when he looked at the texts, they ranged from no way! to no fucking way!! One Republic’s “Stop and Stare” played on his phone. Marc dropped the document on the desk and grabbed for the cell. “Please excuse me just a second. It’s my sister calling.”

Benjamin smiled and picked up his own phone to give Marc some privacy.

Marc answered. “Donna?”

She was speaking so fast he couldn’t understand her. “Wait, what’s wrong? Calm down!”

“That Upshaw man is here! He just walked right in the front door and he won’t leave! He wants to know why we haven’t filed the paperwork yet—” Her voice got quieter, as if she were holding the phone against her chest. “No! I will not let you talk to him! Get out of my house!”

“What?” Marc couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’ll be right there.”

“Marc, can you come home now?” Donna was almost sobbing.

“Quick as I can. Don’t let that asshole leave, and don’t let him take anything.” He hung up the phone. “Benjamin, I’m sorry. Thank you so much for this document, but I have to go home. That guy Upshaw just barged into the house and won’t leave. Donna’s freaking out.”

Benjamin spoke into his phone. “Thank you, Artamae. I’ll let you know. It looks like we’ve got a situation here.” He hung up and studied Marc. “What’s going on?”

“Albert Upshaw just walked in and demanded to know why Donna hasn’t filed the paperwork yet.” He looked at the document. “Do you have an envelope?”

“Oh, yes.” He pulled a larger manila envelope out for the document. “Let me know what’s going on when you get there.”

Marc grabbed the envelope and flew out of the building.

* * *

He made it home as fast as he could, surprised he didn’t get a ticket or hit anyone. He was fuming as his Jeep came to rest in the driveway.

Ralphie will be home soon. He can’t come home to this.

Marc entered the house, and Donna was standing in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. Albert Upshaw wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Where is he?”

“He’s wandering through our house. I told him to leave, but he said he’s got a right to be in the house since it’s the property of Oakville now, and we can’t do anything to stop him.” Donna was visibly upset. Tears stained her cheeks.

“No, they do not own the property! That letter said the tenth! It’s only the eighth.” Marc was getting angrier. They both heard furniture moving around upstairs.

“Marc, let’s wait until he gets down here. I don’t want him to get angry. People have said he’s in the position he has with the town because no one ever challenges him.” She set two cups of coffee on the table.

“No, this is our home and our property and our historic landmark, not the town’s. I’m stopping him.”

Marc stood at the bottom of the staircase and shouted, “Mr. Upshaw, if you do not come downstairs right now, I will call the police!”

There was silence upstairs for a moment, and then Upshaw’s heavy tread clomped down the stairway. Marc took a step back and pointed at the back door as Upshaw glared balefully at him from the bottom riser. “Out. Now.”

“You can’t do anything to stop me,” Upshaw grated. “The town owns this property and all the properties on this street.”

“No, you don’t. The paper said the tenth. It’s the eighth.”

“No, you had until the eighth to file the paperwork. We still haven’t seen any paperwork. Therefore, we have every right to look at the property.”

“We will not be filing any paperwork,” Marc said. “And you have no right to this property or, very likely, any of the properties on River Silt Road. The state has just awarded this address historical landmark status. Therefore, we’ll be opening a bed-and-breakfast, and you will not get a cent of the property or anything on or in it.” Marc pointed at the door again. “Now get out of my house.”

“What?” Upshaw sneered. “Nice try. This place doesn’t have historical status.”

“The paper was just handed to me today. It’s signed by Mr. Benjamin Adams, town historian.” Marc held up the envelope.

“Let me see that!” Upshaw grabbed for the envelope and Marc dodged.

“No. You can see it from here.” Marc held up the document. “I’ll even send you a photograph of it so you have it for your records.”

“You think you’re so smart,” Upshaw growled. “I’ll make sure that your ‘historic’ status is reversed at once.”

“I doubt you’ll succeed,” Marc retorted. “Leave my property now, or I will contact the police and have you arrested for trespassing. And if you have any of my property on your person, you’d best set it down there before you leave.” He pointed at the small table beside the door.

“This is bullshit!” Upshaw looked as closely as he could at the document that Marc held up. “This has to be a fake. Did your boyfriend do this for you? Did he sign the paperwork because you sucked him off? I’ve heard the rumors!”

“Leave. Now.” Marc didn’t take his eyes off the man.

Upshaw pulled an ancient Blackberry from his pocket and stabbed a stubby finger at it, dialing a number. “I’ll get investigators on this! You must have forged these documents. There’s no way they’re real.” He brought the phone to his ear. “Margie! Put in a call to the state historian’s office and get me any information they have on the Shelby property. This faggot thinks he’s got a case to keep the town from taking this place, but I’m betting his butt-buddy boyfriend pulled more than his pants down to get that paperwork through.”

Donna walked into the room, her tears dried and her anger visible. “Is he actually…?”

Marc nodded. “Let me listen.”

Upshaw nodded his head, agreeing with whoever was on the other end of the line. “I knew we shouldn’t let a faggot on the board. Make a note that we need to find someone to run against him next election.” Upshaw dropped his phone into his pocket. “You’ll never win, faggot. I’ll make sure of that. This place belongs to Oakville now!”

Marc was livid. “Get Out Of Our House!” He snapped out each word like a drill sergeant.

Upshaw refused to move. “It’s the town’s house, faggot. You’re not going to live here and push your homosexual agenda on decent folks.”

Donna grabbed Upshaw’s arm. “In case you didn’t get the message, Mr. Upshaw, it’s time for you to take your small-minded opinions elsewhere. Leave. Now.”

Upshaw wrenched his arm out of her grip. “Don’t touch me. I’m leaving.” He slammed the door open, bouncing it off the inside wall hard enough to shake its glass. He started to walk away and then came back to shout at them once more as Ralphie ducked through the open door, looking from Upshaw to his mother and uncle with wide eyes.

“You know, that shit don’t fly in Arkansas either.” He pointed at Ralphie. “Having a kid living in a house with a faggot! I’ll get the police out here to do a welfare check!”

“He’s my son!” Donna shouted. “You leave him out of this.”

Upshaw opened his mouth again, and Ralphie slammed the door in his face. Through the glass, Upshaw shouted something incoherent and finally walked away.

The three stood in silence. Ralphie looked between them for a minute and then spoke. “What… what just happened here?”

“It’s a long story.” Marc sighed.

“Why’d you slam the door, Ralphie?” Donna hugged her son.

“We didn’t need to hear another thing that he had to say. Who the hell was that, anyway?” Ralphie rolled his eyes and locked the door.

“That was Albert Upshaw. He’s the councilman that wants to take our house. He barged in when your mother was here alone, claiming the property was already his,” Marc said.

“He what?” Ralphie said.

“Yep.” Marc was grim. “He’s got an ego as wide as Texas.”

“Wait, Upshaw?” Ralphie said. “Like Elmer Upshaw?”

Marc nodded. “Yeah, that’s his dad.”

“Like father, like son,” Ralphie said. “Elmer’s the biggest bully in school.”

Donna raised her eyebrows. “Maybe we should call the police to do a welfare check on the Upshaws.”

“It would serve him right,” Marc agreed. He went into the kitchen and headed for the table where coffee waited.

“How’d you get him to leave if he thinks the house is his?” Ralphie asked as he went to the refrigerator for a Dr. Pepper.

“Well, it was a combination of showing him the historian’s document and threatening to call the police if he didn’t leave,” Marc said.

“Historian’s document?” Ralphie said. “What document?”

“Oh my God! That’s right, you don’t know yet. Marc, show it to him!” Donna sat at the table.

Marc grinned. “I was just at Benjamin’s office. He was talking to the state historian. Ralphie, the photos have been authenticated and documented. We’re getting historical landmark status. We don’t have to move.”

With a flourish, Marc gave Ralphie the document. Ralphie read it and his eyes widened.

“Holy shit!”

“I know, right?” Donna hugged Ralphie and reached out to hug Marc. “Holy shit is right!”

The three of them hugged as a group, laughing, relieved.

“We should invite Benjamin over to thank him,” Donna said.

Marc winced. “We should, but I wonder what kind of hay Upshaw might try to make of that.” He slid the document back into the envelope.

“What’s he going to do?” Ralphie asked.

“Upshaw might try to kick Benjamin off the council. I’d hate for him to lose his job over this.”

“He’s an elected official, isn’t he?” Donna asked. “And even if he isn’t, I don’t think Upshaw has control over his job.”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t want to make things worse for him.” Marc sighed. “I’ll give him a call in a little while and let him know what’s happened.”

Donna patted his hand. “I’m sure it will work out. Upshaw won’t be able to overturn a state ruling.”

“I hope you’re right,” Marc said.

* * *

He called Benjamin’s cell phone and it went to voicemail. “Benjamin, that guy Upshaw was over here threatening Donna and me, and even Ralphie. He’s furious about the document, and he accused me and you of—well, we should talk. I don’t want you to be blindsided.” Marc hesitated for a moment, then added, “Call me back, please?”

He hung up.

Since Benjamin hadn’t answered his phone, it was a good bet he wouldn’t be getting texts either, so he put the phone in his pocket and went back to his sister and nephew. “When he calls me back, we’ll figure out what to do. For now, we should talk about where to put this document so that Upshaw can’t get his hands on it.”

“Maybe we should get a safe deposit box at the bank,” Donna said.

“That’s an idea,” Marc said. “In your name, my name, or both?”

“Let’s put it in both our names,” Donna said. “That way either of us should be able to get whatever’s in it, right?”

“Yeah. Let’s find out how to do that and we’ll go tomorrow. I don’t want to do that long drive back tonight.”

Just then, his cell phone rang. It was Benjamin. “Donna, can you call the bank? I have to take this.”

“Sure,” Donna said as Marc walked out of the room.

“Hi, Benjamin.”

“Marc? What happened?” Benjamin sounded concerned but not freaked out.

“Upshaw claimed the house was his, not ours. He came in and wouldn’t leave until we threatened him with calling the police. And he tried to grab that document you gave me. He threatened to kick you off the council because of it.” Marc found himself pacing back and forth in the hallway next to the stairs.

Benjamin snorted. “That Upshaw’s a bag of wind. He thinks he has more power than he does.”

“So he can’t fire you?”

“No,” Benjamin said. “The constituents elected me, and he can’t get rid of me. He’s tried before. It never works.”

Marc sagged against the banister in real relief. “That’s good to hear.”

“I was going to call you anyway,” Benjamin said. “Want to come over for dinner?”

Marc smiled. “I’d love to. Let me check with Donna.”

“Yes, you can go,” Donna said from the doorway.

Marc looked up, blushed, and grinned. “Thanks, sis.”

“You go spend some time with your guy,” Donna said. “We’ll be fine.”

“What time do you want me there?” Marc asked Ben.

“In the next half hour. Earlier, if possible?”

Marc chuckled. “I’ll be there in eleven minutes.”

He hung up the phone. “Thanks, Donna.” He hugged her. “Just lock the doors, would you? And I’ll just be down the road if Upshaw comes back.”

“I told you, we’ll be fine,” Donna said. “Go get ready for your date. And yes, I’ll lock the doors.”

* * *

Marc took the stairs two at a time. As he changed into his best black jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, a trickle of doubt weaseled its way into his mind. He said it wouldn’t affect his job… but what about our house? Can Upshaw screw that over even now?

He realized what Benjamin hadn’t said. And that brought a new worry into his head. Had Benjamin done it only because they were falling for each other? Was his friend Artamae in on it?

Calm down, he reassured himself. I’ll ask him about it at dinner.

Marc headed back down the stairs. “Looking sharp!” Donna whistled.

Ralphie looked up from his homework already spread across the kitchen table. “Are you going to a movie or something, Uncle Marc?”

“No, it’s just dinner with Benjamin tonight. But that’s probably better because we need to talk.”

“Uh oh. Problems already?” Ralphie asked.

“Oh, no, no problems. I just want to make sure he’s aware of what Upshaw accused us of.” At Ralphie’s quizzical look, Marc clarified, “Of Benjamin only giving us that document because he and I are seeing each other.”

“Oh. That’s stupid,” Ralphie said.

“Why do you think it’s stupid, Ralphie?” Marc found himself honestly curious.

“Because only stupid people think shit like that anymore.”

Marc smiled. “I’d have to say you’re right.”

“Can you do something for me?” Ralphie asked.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Just hug him for me, because I know Mom’s super excited about being able to stay.” Ralphie looked at his mom and smiled.

“Okay, I will.”

The worry came back as he drove to Benjamin’s house. It wasn’t Jed worrying; it was him. No one in his head was saying anything, except the worry, which painted elaborate scenarios about Benjamin faking everything.

Maybe he doctored the photos he sent to his friend up there.

That’s stupid. Why would he do that?

How do you even know she’s his friend?

Because he said she was!

For that matter, how do you know she’s who he said she was? Maybe she was just a friend helping him trick you into believing you could stay.

Why would he do that?

Well, he did move on you awfully fast at the campsite. Maybe he’s done this before.

Marc couldn’t think of an answer to that one.

Maybe he only did it so you’d stay here, and the photos don’t actually mean anything.

That’s ridiculous.

Maybe he’s just using you to get back at Upshaw. They hate each other; that’s obvious.

I hardly know this man. How can I trust him?

Maybe you can’t,the worry said, and then mercifully fell silent.

Suspicion settled into him like a dense fog. It made it hard to see clearly. By the time he got to Benjamin’s house, he was gripping the steering wheel, white-knuckled. He wasn’t sure whether he was more upset about the idea that Benjamin had led him on or the idea that he and Donna and Ralphie might still—even after all of this—lose the house.

He slammed out of the Jeep and walked to the front door, pounding on it harder than he needed to. He looked around to see if there were any nosy neighbors who might have taken photos of their long, involved kisses at the front door after their date the other night.

The thought of those kisses washed through him, and he blinked. Why was he worrying? He had no evidence except Upshaw’s angry accusation. Come on, Marc. Consider that source.

Benjamin opened the door, a platter of ribs in his free hand. “Come in! I just got the grill started. And tell me what happened with Albert?”

Marc followed him into the house, trying to remember who Albert was. Then it came back to him, and he was able to describe it as he closed the door. “Well, he barged in on Donna while she was cleaning the house and startled her. Then he picked through the house, inspecting it like he would sell everything inside. And he wouldn’t leave, so she called me.”

“Damn,” Benjamin said. “Could you grab that saucepan on the stove and open the door for me?”

“Sure.” He picked up the saucepan, opened the back door, and followed Benjamin to where a large wrought-iron grill stood in the flaming firepit.

“So then what happened once you got there?”

Marc sighed. “Then it got ugly.”

Benjamin set the platter down on a small table next to the firepit. “If that wasn’t ugly before, I’m not sure I want to hear what ugly sounds like.” He took the saucepan from Marc and stirred.

Marc sighed. “We were invaded by his body, first. Then his small-minded mouth attacked.”

“What did he say?” Benjamin placed the ribs on the grill. The fire licked up around the meat, sizzling.

Anger surged back into Marc. “Long story short, he called us—you and me—‘faggots with an agenda.’”

“He what? That homophobic jackass.” Benjamin turned away from the fire and looked at him directly. “How’d he bring that in? An agenda about what?”

“About the house. He said— Look, I want to ask you something. Did you falsify those documents so I’d sleep with you?”

Benjamin was basting the ribs with the sauce, but at Marc’s question, he jerked. The saucepan fell from his grasp, splashing his toes and pant legs in the homemade sauce. His legs suddenly looked like he’d waded through a pond of blood.

“What? What are you talking about?” Benjamin waved his arms around, meat brush still in his hand. “We researched those together. You brought them to me! How could I falsify them?”

Marc’s fists were balled at his sides. He bit back the anger with difficulty. “I meant, that’s what Upshaw is accusing us of doing. Some kind of mastermind plot to fuck each other and steal from Oakville.”

Benjamin shook his head, a red wash rising up his neck. “Upshaw is a Confederate asshole. His white robe is pressed and ready for anything. He wouldn’t know a real document if it bit him on the ass, and he was my biggest detractor when I ran for town council.”

“I’m sorry,” Marc said. He hadn’t meant to accuse, but it had come out all wrong. Jed? Help me. I don’t know how to do this.

But Jed was silent.

Benjamin didn’t seem to be listening. He grabbed a rag and wiped the sauce off his shoes. Then he walked to the garden hose and splashed water over them and the bottom of his pants. He groaned. “Well, these are ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” Marc said again. “I’ll buy you a new pair of pants. It was my fault.”

Benjamin still wasn’t listening. The red wash had filled his cheeks now.

“Benjamin, I didn’t mean that you had. He accused you, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t true.” It sounded like the lie it was.

“That’s funny. Because for a minute there, it sounded like you believed that homophobe.” Benjamin looked at the house and then back at the ribs. “I have to stay out here and keep an eye on these.”

“What can I do?” Marc asked.

“Well, you can answer a question for me now,” Benjamin said.

“Okay,” Marc said.

Benjamin drew a breath and then looked at him directly. “Did you fake the letters? Because they connect a lot to this area, and it’s the first I’ve ever come across soldiers protecting photographers.”

Marc drew in a hurt, shocked breath. “I did not! I found them in the attic. Jed pointed them out.”

“Jed? Your dead husband?” Benjamin scoffed. “Seriously?”

“The frame with his picture in it fell on the loose board! That’s how Donna discovered them.” Marc crossed his arms over a suddenly tight, painful stomach. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this.”

But Benjamin wasn’t finished. “Come to think of it, you didn’t want to sell your house, and I told you about the Elkhorn Tavern, and then, voilà!” He made an explosion sound with his lips and motioned with his hands. “The next day, you have those letters and a pack of old photographs. What were you going to find next, a journal? Did you have that in reserve in case your fake photos and letters weren’t enough?”

Marc’s mouth hung open. “I can’t believe you’re saying this! I trusted you!”

“Did you?” Benjamin fired back. “Or did you just think that I was lonely, being the only openly gay man in town, so you thought you’d lie to me like Grant did and steal my heart too?” He turned his back. “Just get out of here. I shouldn’t have ever let you in on anything. I didn’t lie to you, but I doubt you’ll believe me. Get out.”

It was like the crack of the gun all over again, only this time it was the hateful staccato of Benjamin’s words that assaulted him. He ran out of the house to his Jeep. Once behind the wheel, he pounded his fists on it before keying the engine and driving away.

He wasn’t sure if he was angry with Benjamin, himself, or Jed.

But he knew he was angry with someone.