For You I’ll Wait

GUTHRIE HAD seen Larx and Aaron's home when he'd been up to Colton before, but he hadn't seen it in the morning sunlight, with the morning glories wound about an arbor and cut flowers in vases decorating the aisles of chairs. He hadn't seen it with Aaron George, tall and blond and hale and hearty and kind, standing in a handsome blue suit, waiting for his husband, smaller, wiry, with dark hair harboring a few strands of silver.

He hadn't seen Olivia and her sister and stepsister dressed in pale purple, like morning glories themselves, or an entire town full of people watching the two men meet at the altar in front of their respective best friends who were conducting the ceremony.

In short, he'd never seen, nor been part of, anything as bright and shining, as full of sunshine and glory, as the George-Larkin wedding. Even Seth and Kelly's wedding, as much as he'd loved it, had the roar of the ocean, the fight of the wind in it, and that had suited them, because their lives together hadn't been easy, and they wouldn't be, and Seth and Kelly seemed to thrive in the storm.

But Larx and Aaron were working so hard to create a little haven of kindness. Bad things happened there, of course—what happened to Tad had happened to all of them, including to the still thin, healing teenager sitting anxiously in the back near April—but there was hope that the people in the town could make things better.

It was the perfect wedding for two people who were far from perfect, but who wanted to give the world at least one day of sunshine, flowers, and joy.

As Guthrie finished the processional, allowing the last chords to die softly in the early morning August sunshine, he glanced to Larx's arm, where a determined-looking Olivia was clinging with all the force in her white-knuckled fingers. As Guthrie watched from his discreet little stool to the side of the arbor, he could see what seemed to be a ripple or a faint breeze pass along the ruffled fabric of Olivia's full, empire-waisted tunic, and his eyebrows rose.

He saw the exact moment Larx realized his oldest daughter was in labor right before his own wedding.

And then he watched as Larx approached his groom with raised eyebrows of his own, and Aaron George's widened eyes told the same story.

And then they glanced to their two officiates: Yoshi, the diminutive English teacher, and Eamon, Aaron's former boss, the tall and thickly muscled sheriff.

"For obvious reasons," Eamon intoned, "We're going to hurry this up a bit."

Olivia had been seated when the rest of the wedding party had remained standing, and Guthrie stared at her as her husband moved to her side and allowed her to crush his hand.

The wedding vows were lovely—he assumed—but his eyes were on Olivia the entire time. She saw his gaze and winked, and then took her husband's hand and panted her way through her next contraction, and Guthrie felt a stupid shaft of disappointment.

He'd wanted so badly to talk to her.

Oddly enough, Olivia had become one of his closest friends in a remarkably short time. He wondered if that was because, in one way or another, they were both… isolated in some ways. Yes, he was surrounded by people who loved him, but he'd spent most of his life on the road and was having a hard time adjusting to the idea that he might not have to live that way anymore.

And Olivia had changed her entire vision of what her life would be in the span of less than a year. They were both getting used to living a life they'd never thought would fit them, and somehow they'd found each other. Guthrie had hoped… oh, he'd hoped for somebody to talk to.

Somebody besides Tad, because he and Tad had a totally intense way of communicating that was frightening and raw and terrifying in its honesty, and Guthrie needed a friend to tell him that was okay.

What had happened in the hotel two nights before had scared him shitless.

Not just the primal, animal-screaming sex, although that had been such a beautiful purge, Guthrie wished he could stop being embarrassed about it. But besides that, there had been the conversation afterward, the two of them on the bed, peeling each other's hearts open like tangerines.

"HOW BAD is it?" Tad had brought fruit salad, and he sat on the bed cross-legged with the bowl in his hand. Guthrie was leaning against the headboard, wishing he didn't have to eat.

"It hurts," he said. "Can't lie. He says awful shit, and I can either scream awful shit back or take it." He thought of the day before, screaming Butch's littleness, the nothingness of his life into the old man's dying face. "Either way, it makes a body… less. Less of a person. There's no winning."

Tad leaned forward, his hand on Guthrie's ankle, the skin-to-skin contact reassuring at the same time it burned. "What you're doing is so important," he whispered. "There's no way he can make you ‘less.' Don't think that way. It's bigger than the awfulness of the person you're caring for—remember that."

SO MEANINGFUL— and painful and embarrassing. Guthrie didn't want to talk about it to anybody but Tad. But he did want to talk about Tad . Was it normal to fall in love like this, where even the person's flaws seemed like sunshine? Where the smell behind his neck could be an aphrodisiac and a sedative at the same time? Where the crinkles at the corners of his eyes seemed like a promise of growing old together? Where the thought of letting this person down made your hands shake?

Guthrie had been in love once before, but he hadn't had a chance to find out. He'd tried a couple of times since, and those had ended, mostly because Guthrie's life was always in a state of flux, of wandering, of upheaval. But he and Tad had faced more than flux, wandering, and upheaval, and somehow, some way, he'd fought harder to remain by Tad's side.

Did that mean it was real love, the kind that stuck? He wasn't just working on one dream here, he was working on two—was that allowed? Could he make that recording date with Seth and still have Tad waiting for him with open arms? Did a man like him get the things he wanted most in the world?

Those were the things he wanted to talk to Olivia about. They were the kinds of things he was pretty sure Tad talked to Chris about (although he suspected they discussed diet, fiber content, and bathroom schedules a lot more, because they were stuck in a car together a lot.)

But he wasn't stupid, and he tried not to be selfish. The girl was in labor at her father's wedding . He kept an eye on her while the dads said their vows, feeling a sunshine burn behind his eyes.

"I get to go through life with a friend, a partner, somebody who gets me, somebody who laughs with me, and somebody who won't leave when things get rough. I know that because we've been through the rough, and baby, you're still here."

Larx was the one who said the words, but Aaron's weren't any worse.

"I thought the sun had gone down on love a long time ago—I'd planned to live my entire life in a sort of perpetual twilight, where I knew what love was but I knew I'd never see it again. And then one day I looked up and you were running on the damned road, which was a death trap, and I realized the sun wasn't gone. It had dipped behind the trees for a bit, but suddenly there it was, right in front of me, and we had a ways to go before night."

Gah! All that poetry from two guys with the most mundane jobs in the world. Guthrie wanted to cry. He'd worked his entire life to be a musician, to be a poet, but apparently nothing made you spout the good stuff like getting your heart broken… and then falling in love.

"And there you go," said Yoshi, obviously proud of himself and happy—and then staring anxiously at Olivia, whose even breathing was not all that loud but had the attention of the entire assembly. "By the power vested in Eamon Mills and me by the internet gods and a very helpful website, we have both seen our best friends married, and hopefully they will only be fifty percent as worrisome as they were before."

"Amen," Eamon intoned. "May the groom kiss the groom, and then may everybody clear a path so Olivia's husband can get her to the first family-mobile so she can deliver the grandbaby of the grooms in a hospital and not the front seat."

There was some general laughter, and then Elton stood, Olivia gripping his forearm tensely, and Olivia took unsteady steps down the aisle. Suddenly her knees almost buckled, and Larx was there to help Elton catch her. Without missing a beat, Aaron was there as well, lifting her up in his arms and bearing toward the vehicles at speed. As the little party hurried forward, Guthrie was shocked to hear Elton call his name.

"What?" he asked, standing and setting his guitar in its case. He'd been prepared to play the recessional, although he'd been pretty sure this was going to be how the ceremony ended the whole time.

"She wants you and me!" Elton called. "Please!"

"Me?" Guthrie asked, horrified. The girl had a whole troop of family literally carrying her to her car and she wanted him ?

" Nobody who's changed my diaper," Olivia panted. " Nobody who borrows my Tampax. And nobody who's going to give me shit about seeing my hoochie stretched to the end of fucking days!"

Elton must have nudged her as they cleared the aisle and approached the driveway, where a Subaru Forester was one of the last vehicles parked.

"Except my husband," she corrected, her voice breaking. "Guthrie, please!"

Guthrie was already hurrying down the aisle, pausing where Tad and April were sitting to give Tad the truck keys. "I'll call ya," he said, kissing him on the cheek.

"This is a surprise," Tad said dryly.

"My only qualification is I don't borrow her Tampax," Guthrie replied. "Don't be too impressed."

"She only said that so I'd be forced to entertain at the wedding," said her sister as she hurried up the aisle. "Now move it. We're all terrified of her at this stage, and you should be too!"

Guthrie gave Tad a beleaguered look and started jogging for the cars.

IT TURNED out there was some method to Olivia's madness, although Elton was the one who filled Guthrie in on it as he was driving at a very practiced speed on the winding roads toward the already-alerted hospital. There were eighty people in Larx and Aaron's front yard, and a reception at Aaron's place in an hour, after pictures. Olivia had originally told everybody that if she went into labor during the wedding—Ha-ha! Like that was going to happen, right?—she'd leave the place with Elton and give birth quietly, without stealing any of the people from the party. It wasn't fair, she'd argued. All of the plans they'd made, everything it took to get two incredibly busy men to have their own public wedding—and it had to be public, because they were pillars of the damned community and their family and friends were not going to let them slink off and marry like they had something to be embarrassed about—and they needed to be there. So even though Christiana and Larx had planned to be there for the birth on any other day, on this day, Larx needed to go be the star of the show.

But Olivia still wanted a friend there. And Guthrie had learned over the last couple of months that her stepsister's assessment was damned accurate. Olivia had a huge heart, and she was warm and kind and joyful. But that huge heart was guarded, and her warmth was banked in reserve for the people she trusted, and for some reason, she and Guthrie clicked.

It was, as she'd texted numerous times, as random and as chancy as falling in love. The heart wanted what it wanted when it came to friends and lovers, and she wanted Guthrie there to hold her hand when Elton was busy being the man of the house.

As Guthrie had sent her his poetry and lyrics, he'd realized that yeah, he had a friend, and he didn't want to shake her.

So Guthrie it was.

Guthrie sat in the back of the car and held her hand, listening to her gush about her father's wedding and how the dreamy guy he was marrying had literally carted her in his arms like in the movies.

"Yeah," Guthrie said dryly. "That was something special. How'd you happen to go into labor on their wedding day again?"

"Dumb fucking luck," she panted.

"Total fucking stress," Elton chimed in from the front. "She, Christiana, and Nancy Pavelle—did you see her?"

"Nice lady with the baby's breath in her updo?" Guthrie asked.

"Yeah," Elton said. "She's Yoshi's sister-in-law. I guess she, Larx, and Yoshi are the sarcastic terrors of Colton High."

Guthrie chuckled, and Livvy shook her head.

"You think it's funny, but they're terrifying . All the kids are like, ‘Omigod, I forgot to turn in my English assignment for Mr. Nakamoto, and now Mrs. Pavelle's threatening to put a snake in my locker!'"

That made Guthrie and Elton laugh, and Guthrie stroked her hand as she caught her breath in the downtime.

"What kind of snake?" Guthrie asked at the same time Elton said, "She did not !"

"Oh, she did," Olivia breathed, eyes closed. "He was a really sweet corn snake she named Buttons. She set him free but ended up with another kind of snake, rescued, who was so stupid she had to make sure he ate his field mice right or he'd choke on them and die."

"I am boggled," Guthrie muttered. "Tell me more about the magic snake woman who's friends with your father."

"And is sister to Yoshi's mysterious boyfriend," Elton added. "He's super shy—I've only barely met him, but he's got a soft spot for Christiana."

"Everybody does," Olivia murmured. "Just as well the baby came today when she couldn't be here, or the little squid would pop out and love her best."

Elton grunted as though struck, and Guthrie squeezed her hand. "Aw, princess, you know that's not gonna happen. I mean, no denying she'll be the favorite aunt, which is not knocking Maureen, but you'll be the mommy. Lookit you, being all brave and entertaining us and shit. It'll be okay, Livvy. You don't gotta be your sister to be the favorite."

"Sure," she muttered, and her hand tightened over his knuckles, and he had to work with her to keep her breathing even as the next contraction hit.

He wanted a chance to talk to Elton, though, to be in the same room as Olivia, to tell her, convince her that she didn't have to be her sister to be the prettiest. She was perfect all on her own.

"YOUR FATHER'S a fool," Tad murmured, setting aside his food and reaching to tug Guthrie next to him on the hotel bed. "You're a better son than he ever deserved. And I'm so mad at him. I had my mom, and I would have given anything— anything— to have one more day with her. And your dad got all this time with you and he wasted it being a shitty father. Don't worry about not being good enough for him. You're perfect."

OLIVIA'S FATHER had probably told her these things, Guthrie thought, but sometimes, you needed to hear them again and again.

Guthrie and Elton told Olivia again and again over the next few hours. Unlike the scatterbrained assholes on television, Elton was a fully functioning emotional human being. He'd read up on labor, knew what Olivia specifically needed, and did his best to anticipate those needs. But it was Elton's job to communicate with the hospital staff and keep his wife focused on the things she was supposed to do—they were partners in parenthood after all.

He said things like, "Livvy, you gotta stay in the present. You do this all the time when you're taking a dump. Know where the baby is in the pipes and breathe around it. You'll be fine."

Guthrie had no such responsibilities. He'd been drafted at the last possible moment for emotional support. He figured it was his job to agree with absolutely everything Olivia said without question and make wildly improbable promises that he could not possibly carry through.

"You're right, Livvy, this is bullshit. Aaron will arrest all the fuckers responsible, no question. Now breathe. Elton loves you, and that's what he said. Yeah, I know he did this to you, but that was an act of love, darlin'. Look at the man—he's got your ice chips, he's got your other hand, now follow his directions, and I'll put a pin in that arrest-the-fuckers thing, okay?"

Then the contraction would pass and she'd be left shaking and rational—thank God—and do her best to relax into the next contraction.

It was rough going. Guthrie and Elton held her elbows and walked her around the hospital room for a bit after she was admitted, and then "the big one" hit and she was in bed, lying on her side, with Guthrie rubbing the small of her back and Elton holding her hand. Finally, one more person stuck their hand up her hoochie (Guthrie could not even believe how many people had done that. If men got fingers stuck up their asses in the name of medicine as often as women got hands shoved up their cooters, proctologists would be on the accepted kill lists, and the yearly checkup would be a blood sport) and proclaimed her ready for the delivery room. He and Elton were rushed into caps and gowns and booties. Guthrie felt pretty superfluous after that. Sure, he cheerfully lied a lot—her fuckers list got really long by the end of the whole thing. But really, it was all down to Livvy.

And toward the end, in spite of multiple promises not to look because he wasn't that interested in hoochies anyway, he still watched as the tiny miracle was produced from his friend's body.

Red, wrinkled, and squalling was Guthrie's only real impression, and then Olivia was his focus again. He brushed the hair from her face and held her hand while Elton went to check on the baby.

"What is it?" she hiccupped. "Boy or girl? For the present, I mean. I understand you can be wrong about these things for years."

Guthrie laughed softly. "How very progressive of you," he teased. "Elton, end the suspense, would ya?"

"It's a girl," he said proudly, holding the solidly wrapped squiddy thing up to be ogled.

Guthrie was suitably impressed. "Look what you made," he said. "A squid."

"I think there's not enough arms and legs for a squid," she said breathlessly. "I think we have to hope it turns human in a few weeks."

"Let me know how that works for you," he said soberly, and she laughed, weak and a little hysterical but happy.

"You say that like you're not coming back," she said, and he realized with a stab of panic that he hadn't just made this promise to Tad. It was frightening enough knowing he could fuck up and not move to Colton when all this was done and break Tad's heart, but this woman had held his hand while she squeezed out a baby. He was stuck now, in this wonderful friendship, caught in the flypaper of amazing family before he even had a chance to fathom escape. "I can't raise this kid alone, Guthrie. Me and Elton are going to need help!"

Guthrie wanted to guffaw. "We just left a giant party of about eighty people who would be delighted to help," he chided, and her scowl was terrifying.

"Yeah, but I only want so many of those people in my home," she growled. "Now promise me. Not a bullshit promise. You can wipe the fuckers list out of existence. Promise me." Her voice wobbled, and Guthrie looked to Elton for backup, but Elton was doing the responsible dad thing and accompanying the baby to the washing station and the eyeball station and all the other things they did to babies fresh out of the box before they gave them back to mom.

"PLEASE, GUTHRIE." It was such a simple plea, and Guthrie stared at Tad in consternation. They were naked again, panting, their lovemaking written on their skin again, the night chill of Monterey seeping in through the floorboards of the hotel.

"I already promised," he said, confused.

"It's easy to break promises," Tad said, and Guthrie scowled.

"Not for me," he said. Hadn't he proved that?

"I know that," Tad told him. A faint sheen of sweat was drying on his forehead, and he was so earnest. "You promised we'd make the move. We'd be together. But being with you now—I think you're wondering if it's a dream. If once you have a chance to drive somewhere, anywhere, to get in your dying truck and go, you'll forget that you have family. That you have a place. That people love you. All you'll remember is one more goddamned obligation. Please, Guthrie. Let us be your dream."

"You are," he rasped, and his voice was so quiet he was afraid Tad hadn't heard. "You are," he said again. "You are my dream." And he said it again and again until Tad kissed him to still the shaking that took him over as the reality swept through him, that all that reaching, all that yearning, and it was literally right here in his arms.

"PRINCESS," HE said now to Olivia, "you all have made yourselves our dream. Tad might beat me here by a few weeks, but I'll get here. Trust me, okay? I… I won't have anywhere else to go."

She smiled and laughed a little, and then Elton arrived with the real princess.

"Hello," she murmured, forehead to forehead with Elton, both of them staring at the child cradled in his arms in awe. "I understand you're a girl. Your daddy thought of the prettiest name―"

"Your grandpa thought of it first," Elton murmured. "Trust me, kiddo, you got some awesome people to meet."

The gaze of tenderness, of pride, that Olivia sent her husband then made it hard for Guthrie to swallow. Yeah, these kids were young—so young—but God, he thought they might make it.

"You're killing us here," Guthrie murmured, reaching across Olivia to run a finger along the downy little head. "What'd we name our little princess?"

He heard the name and smiled.

TWO HOURS later, Larx, Aaron, and Christiana showed up in the hospital room, still dressed in their wedding finery.

"Tad's waiting out in the hallway," Larx said softly, since Olivia was sleeping. Elton stood over the bassinet in the corner, having just taken custody of their little princess from Guthrie, who had snuggled that charming creature to his heart as often as humanly allowed since they'd left the delivery room.

Guthrie took that as his cue and stood to go hug Elton, because it felt like the two of them had done something huge together.

Elton grinned at him. "Yeah, Guthrie, you were a part of this. That practically makes us brothers, you know."

Guthrie felt his face heat. "That's a kind thing to offer," he said. "Watch out—I may come back and take you up on that."

"You promised," Elton told him soberly, and Guthrie bent down to kiss the downy little head for the umpteenth time.

"I did," he murmured. "I keep promises like that. Anybody'll tell ya. Give Livvy my love. I gotta leave early tomorrow, so I probably won't see her. Tell her next time I come, I'll have a baby gift, okay?"

"Just you," Elton said happily.

"You're killing me here," Christiana said, holding out her arms. "Give her to me so I can tell her all the embarrassing things about her mother and make myself the favorite aunt of all times."

Guthrie slid out of the room then, and let the family be a family, but boy was he glad to see Tad leaning against wall of the hallway when he got out.

"So," Tad said, taking his hand and brushing the hair out of his eyes. "Everybody's dying of suspense, you know. What'd they name her?"

Guthrie chuckled. "Well, they joked about naming her Lumpy Space Princess, but in the end, they went with Emmeline Glory."

Tad made a happy sound. "Aw… that's sweet. That's keeping the family tradition right there, right? Olivia, Christiana—all those royal sounding girl's names for these down-to-earth, strong women. I love it."

Guthrie made a " hmm " sound in his throat. "You gonna tell me how the rest of wedding went?" he asked. "After you feed me and before I pass out, of course."

"Sure," Tad said. "You gonna tell me how all of that—" He gestured with the hand not laced together with Guthrie's toward the family in the hospital room. "—went?"

"Sure," Guthrie said. "There was some yelling, some crying, and a long list of fuckers that I promised to kill for Olivia, but she told me I could take it all back after the baby was born."

Tad chuckled, and together they turned toward the exit, hand in hand. "I look forward to hearing that," he said. "I need to kiss up to the boss, after all, and knowing his stepdaughter's enemies is a good way to do it."

"Sure," Guthrie acknowledged, "but you're gonna have to find the people who invented stirrups on the beds and the people who said ice chips only and the people who invented the portable IV—because they are all fuckers and need to be stopped."

Tad's laughter accompanied them out of the hospital and into long shadows of early evening. Guthrie was suddenly looking forward to dinner in a hotel room and the sharing of stories as much as he usually looked forward to sex.

That alone was a kind of magic he hadn't been sure existed.

"YOU DOING better?" Jock asked as Guthrie pulled his truck up the drive the next afternoon.

"Yeah," Guthrie said with a sigh. Tad and April had gone back with Chris and Laura, staying long enough to visit Olivia on their way out of town and eat brunch with the family. Guthrie had felt his desertion of Jock keenly, and while his heart was stronger, more ready to see this bullshit through to the end, he resented missing out on those things, and on the ride home with Tad.

And on the time he wanted to be spending with him now.

"Kenny told me your guy seemed okay," Jock said, sounding conciliatory. "Someday, you know, maybe I… maybe you wouldn't be too embarrassed for me to meet him."

Guthrie swallowed. "You can't use some words around him," he cautioned. "And you gotta talk about April like she's a queen. I mean, all women, really, Jock, but, you know."

"Don't be crude about your guy's sister," Jock said dutifully, and then he gave a hopeful smile. "I'd… I mean, maybe someday, when this is…." His voice dropped, and he glanced around the yard and the house, which showed a definite improvement from their efforts this last month. "When the house is finished," he said, and then sighed. "When your daddy's not here to pollute the place."

"I'd be honored," Guthrie said. "Now I'm sure you need a break yourself, right?"

Jock shrugged. "I got my girl to help me out, and Kenny Wilson came by too. I ain't been too alone these last few days. And you look better, boy. I was afraid you were gonna get arrested for killing a guy who's gonna be dead in a month, and that'd be no good. So yeah. Come help me give the old bastard his bath and his dinner, and we can have a beer and you can tell me all about it."

Guthrie lit up. "I'm telling you," he said proudly, "it was a bigger adventure than you think."