Chapter 5

The back door slammed as he jumped over the porch railing. He took the back wall like an Olympic hurdler.

His elation was growing. He couldn’t help hollering and whooping as he ran past the old rock where he’d had battles in the woods with his friends. He found himself sprinting into Benjamin’s backyard.

Benjamin wasn’t there, so Marc ran around the side of the house to the front yard. He saw a Toyota Land Cruiser in the driveway—someone was home—and ran to the front door.

He was out of breath and panting, but he couldn’t contain himself. In his excitement, he pounded on the door, dancing from one foot to the other as he waited.

“Hold on, hold on!” Benjamin opened the door. “Marc? Are you all right?”

His elation bubbled out of him. “Oh my God, Benjamin, you’ll never believe what we found!” He pulled out his shirt and reached into his pants.

“Whoa, Mr. Shelby. Hold on!” Benjamin reached to stop Marc’s hands from going further.

“No, wait! I’ve got something in here for you to see!” Marc said. He struggled with the ornate box.

Benjamin glanced down, then back at Marc’s sweaty face. “That’s a little premature, isn’t it? They might do things differently in Los Angeles, Marc, but we haven’t even had a date.” Benjamin looked around to see if anyone was looking. Fortunately, the street was deserted.

“What?” Then realization washed over Marc at what this much look like, and he flushed. “Oh, not that. I—we found something, but I didn’t want to risk putting it in my pocket and crushing it or dropping it.”

“Ah.” Benjamin’s face went through several expressions, settling on neutral. “Okay, show me. What did you find?”

Marc dug in his pants. “This.” He presented Benjamin with the black-and-gold box. As he handed it over, Benjamin’s earlier words percolated through his excitement.

We haven’t even had a date.

Is he gay? Sure, sounds like it to me,Jed said and was gone before Marc could respond.

Benjamin opened the lid and examined the oilcloth but made no move to unwrap it. “What’s this?”

“Donna found it under a floorboard in our attic. You might want to open it on a table.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Of course. Please come in.” Benjamin opened the door.

Inside, the house was immaculate and smelled of Lemon Pledge. It took Marc back to Wednesday afternoons working in his office in the house, when the cleaning lady would be in the living room, dusting the bookshelves. It had a peaceful, comfortable feel.

However, he was too antsy to sit, so he stood close as Benjamin untied the leather thong and carefully unwrapped the oilcloth on his dining table.

Benjamin drew in a sharp breath of surprise. “Wow,” he half whispered.

Marc wondered what had shocked him.

But it wasn’t any one thing, as it turned out. Benjamin turned to him, his eyes alight and excited. “Why didn’t you tell me what was in here?” He laid the oilcloth carefully back over the top of the pictures. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared through a door and came back with white cotton gloves on his hands and handed another pair to Marc. “Here, put these on.”

“I’ve already handled them,” Marc said. “Sorry if I wasn’t supposed to do that.” He slipped his hands into the soft white gloves.

“You said you found them under a floorboard?” Benjamin lifted up the oilcloth again and studied the top photo almost reverently.

“Well, Donna did. She’d noticed a floorboard in the attic was loose and pried it up.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Benjamin turned and pointed across the room. “It’s going to be temporary, but I’ve got a box of sandwich baggies in the kitchen drawer. Can you get them for me?”

Marc smiled. “Sure.” He zigzagged past the traditional furniture of the dining room and through a swinging door into a modern kitchen. A large butcher-block table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by sparse white walls. A plain white backsplash ran the length of the sink counter, and white cabinets lined the walls, sporting shiny aluminum knobs. The kitchen looked like a blank palette that had nothing of Benjamin in it.

Marc pulled out drawers and discovered cutlery, knives, kitchen utensils, and towels. The last drawer he opened revealed various-sized boxes of plastic bags. He grabbed the sandwich bags and the gallon bags for the folded letters, in case Benjamin wanted to unfold them.

He hurried back out to the dining room. “Here you go. I brought the larger size for the letters, in case you wanted them unfolded.”

“Letters?” Benjamin’s voice rose as he shook his head in wonder. “Let’s get these sealed first.”

Marc handed opened baggies to Benjamin, who slid photos and parchment pieces into them quickly, sealing them before examining them closely.

Marc paced the room like a caged tiger as Benjamin made excited noises. For a minute, Benjamin stood and disappeared into the other room again, coming back with an iPad and a large magnifying glass. He’d lined up the plastic baggies and oilcloth on the dining table.

He turned to Marc again. “In that secretary under the window, in the third drawer, there’s a dining table pad, and in the bottom drawer is a red tablecloth. Can you bring those here?”

Marc did as he was told. He wasn’t sure what the dining pad was, but he found the tablecloth and four pieces of padded thickness. He brought them to the table. Benjamin placed the photos and letters carefully on a chair and took the pads from Marc, who saw how they fit the table as Benjamin laid them down. They fluttered the cloth into the air together before resting it on the table as well.

“I don’t suppose you want me to set the table too?” Marc joked as Benjamin transferred the photos and letters back to the tabletop.

“Um…” Benjamin pretended to consider, then grinned. “No, come here. Sit beside me.” He pulled out two chairs and they both sat. The warmth of Benjamin’s leg pressed against Marc’s was distracting as they leaned in close to look at the photos.

They were both surprised to see the image of Grammom’s backyard. Two men sat at a table set for a meal. Another man, dressed in a Confederate soldier’s uniform, stood near the unusually shaped fireplace that Ralphie had pointed out was shaped like theirs. Another photo was of a woman placing platters of food on a table, and a third was of an armed soldier guarding two men developing photographs. The soldier had a smile on his face and there was a wildflower in the barrel of his gun.

“Do you think they’re likely to save the house?” Marc asked as Benjamin’s long fingers turned each photograph carefully on the table.

“They look authentic,” Benjamin said. “I’ve got to call Artamae Cleave at the Capitol. She specializes in Civil War photography.” He placed the photos to the side and picked up one of the parchment pieces. “It’s these letters that intrigue me.”

“Donna said they sound like love letters,” Marc said.

“It’s not uncommon to find letters, but this William Shelby must be a relative of yours. This is the first time we’ve found proof of a soldier protecting the photographers. Sometimes they were such a hindrance that they were only allowed to take pictures before or after a battle had taken place. I’m wondering what your Shelby said or did to warrant their protection.”

“But love letters between two men?” Marc asked. “Wouldn’t they be court-martialed if someone caught them?”

“Not necessarily. You know the word homosexual didn’t even exist until the late 1890s, right?” Benjamin had a crooked grin.

“So, could any of this save the house?”

Benjamin held up the first photo. “This could, for sure. That’s a unique fireplace. We’d need to verify that it’s the one in your house. We’ll also research and verify the date your home was built. If it’s anything like the Elkhorn Tavern, you’ll be in like Flynn.”

Marc’s relief was stronger than he’d expected. He let out a sigh that washed the tension out of him. His hands fell to his sides—the left one landing on Benjamin’s right leg—and his head sagged to rest on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Thank. God.”

Benjamin didn’t seem to mind, and Marc couldn’t have moved even if he had. When the heat rising from Benjamin’s denim-clad thigh penetrated his relief, Marc lifted his head and impulsively kissed Benjamin’s cheek.

“What was that for?” Benjamin turned to look at him.

His lips were surrounded by a luscious blond beard. Marc closed his eyes, not sure what he was hoping for but just enjoying the moment. “You just saved my family’s house,” he said, opening to find Benjamin staring at him with intense brown eyes.

Marc replayed the last few moments in his head and heated as a tingle of embarrassment rose through his chest. “I’m just excited that we might be able to save it,” he said. “I didn’t mean to…to…” He pulled back and set his hand in his lap.

Then Benjamin’s hand slid into his.

“Thank you for the kiss,” Benjamin said. “I’m flattered.” His smile flashed through the blond beard.

“I promise, this isn’t something we normally do in Los Angeles either,” Marc said, flustered. “When I get excited, I tend to move too fast.”

“I think that you’re doing just fine,” Benjamin said.

“You… that was okay with you?” Marc asked. “I mean, we only met the other day.”

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you,” Benjamin said. “I am.”

Those words brought a different tingle to Marc’s chest. Benjamin squeezed his hand. “But…”

“But if I’m to work on this package—” He nodded at the table. “—I shouldn’t play with this one.” Benjamin let go of Marc’s hand and placed his in Marc’s crotch. Marc caught his breath and Benjamin winked. “I don’t want prying, bigoted eyes to suggest anything out of the ordinary.”

“Oh!” Marc, startled by the pressure, licked his lips and managed, “Do you have people who will barge in on us?” Marc winked.

“No.” Benjamin smiled but left his hand where it rested.

“Well, can you at least explain what the Elkhorn Tavern is?” Marc directed the conversation back.

“Sure.” Benjamin pulled his hand out from under the table. “Meet me there tomorrow, and we’ll have lunch.”

“Okay. I’ll leave this package with you.” Marc pushed the chair back and stood up.

Benjamin followed suit and pulled Marc into his arms. “Listen, I’m sorry I was so forward with you. I am not the kind of guy who gropes another guy out of nowhere.”

“It’s all right,” Marc said. “I mean, I kissed you first.”

“True,” Benjamin said. “So how about I kiss you second?” Before Marc could move, Benjamin’s fingers slid through his red beard and pulled his chin forward so their lips met.

It wasn’t like the kisses he’d remembered from other guys. Benjamin’s lips lingered, his tongue dipped between and over before meeting again. A teasing bite on Marc’s bottom lip was followed by a smile and Benjamin’s left arm pulled Marc closer. He felt like he was getting lightheaded. It was a passionate kiss, Marc memorized the curve of Benjamin’s lips, the tickle of his beard, and closed his eyes.

I’m sorry, Jed.

No, Marc. It’s okay. It’s time.

Marc backed away from the kiss, still holding onto Benjamin’s waist. “I’m sorry. I’m just overexcited.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m looking forward to meeting you for lunch at the Elkhorn Bar.”

“It’s the Elkhorn Tavern. It’s on the other side of the park.” Benjamin motioned with the back of his head, not taking his eyes off Marc.

“Tavern, okay. I’ll look it up and meet you for lunch tomorrow.” Marc let go and took a step toward the door. Then he stopped. “What happens now?”

Benjamin reached to open the door for him. “I’ll draft emails to Artamae and Neville, the historians at the Capitol. I believe you found what you need, but we must dot all our i’s and cross our t’s before someone accuses you—or even me—of making it all up.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll let Donna know too.” He went out the door and stood on the porch awkwardly.

“See you tomorrow,” Benjamin said.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Marc took the steps two at a time and darted around the corner to go through the woods to his home.

* * *

“Donna. Donna! You’re not going to believe it!” Marc ran toward the house, elation driving him forward all over again.

Ralphie and Donna opened the back door and ran out to the porch.

“What happened?”

“Yeah, what happened, Uncle Marc?”

“I think Benjamin likes me, and Jed told me to go for it!” Marc hugged himself, bouncing on his toes.

Ralphie stared and tilted his head, then looked at his mom. “Isn’t…”

“Yes, Ralphie. Let’s let it go,” Donna said.

“Unk, are you okay?” Ralphie walked up to him.

“Yes, I’m great.” His cheeks were flushed. Part of him wanted to blame it on his run across the park, but another part wanted to shout to the world that he was falling for the handsome town historian.

“Uncle Jed? Isn’t he, you know…?” Ralphie trailed off at a sharp glance from his mom.

“I still talk to him, and I hear him in my head. I know he’s dead, Ralphie. But I don’t want to let go of him.” Marc took a deep breath. “In fact, we got in a fight this morning, and he pointed out where those letters and photos were.”

Donna sat down in one of the porch chairs. “Come on, Marc. You can’t really believe that.”

“No, it’s true,” Marc insisted. “I hit the dresser and his frame fell and landed on the floorboard you pried open. It’s as though he knew it was there and he helped.”

“And Uncle Jed was the one who got you to meet Mr. Adams?” Ralphie asked.

“No, it’s a long story, but—well, I kissed him, and he kissed me back.”

“Wow, you move fast,” Donna said. “And Jed encouraged this?”

“Jed told me to go for it, but I backed off. While Benjamin investigates the William Shelby package, he’ll hold off on investigating mine,” Marc laughed.

“Ew! Unk, we don’t need to hear those details about your life.” Ralphie’s expression was half-interested, half-disgusted.

“What do you know about packages, young man?” Donna scrutinized Ralphie.

“I’m not dead, Mom. I do watch Netflix,” Ralphie pointed out.

“This family,” Donna sighed. “So, what’s he think about that package?”

Marc started bouncing on his toes again. “He says there’s a good chance they can get this place declared a historical site. He’s going to send emails to a Civil War photography researcher and historian at the Capitol. He’ll let me know more about what he finds out from them at lunch tomorrow.”

“Lunch tomorrow?” Donna said. “Where are you meeting?”

“Have you been to the Elkhorn Tavern?”

“I have, but you know it’s not a real tavern, right? It’s not an open establishment that sells food. It’s more like a picnic spot. So maybe he’ll bring a picnic,” Donna said.

“Oh, I wondered. It’s near the national park, right? The entrance?”

“Yes.” She stood up. “Well, that’s enough excitement for the day. Let’s get back to work and see about getting some of these things listed online. Maybe we can become an antique store to get the rest of the stuff out of here. Maybe we could use the main floor as a store?”

“It’s a thought, and if we can save the house, we can just live upstairs.” Marc stopped to look at the chimney. “This fireplace is the one in that picture. Those pictures were taken back here.”

Ralphie said, “Do you remember that line in the letter, ‘If you are reading this, you found it.’ What do you think it means? Do you think Samuel left the letters under the floorboards? Or do you think it’s another hiding place?”

“I’m not sure,” Marc said. “I mean, it could be anywhere.”

“Or maybe Samuel left the picture of the fireplace as a clue?” Ralphie stood in front of the chimney, looking at it with his head cocked to one side. “Maybe there’s a secret brick!”

Donna grabbed Ralphie and pulled him toward the house. “We can look for that later. Come on, let’s get lunch started.” They went inside.

Marc studied the chimney, wondering the same thing his nephew had. The tin box, still in his pocket, clicked against his pocketknife as he circled the base of the chimney.

“Marc, are you coming? We could use another pair of hands,” Donna called.

I’ll look at it later. “On my way!” he called as he headed into the house.