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I felt my face go hot and tugged at the collar of my shirt. “Erm. Just water for me. Thank you.”
The pretty blonde smiled. “You must be Dr. Rogers. Your grandfather talks about you all the time.”
“Really?” I blinked. “I… yeah, I am.” My cheeks went even hotter if that were possible.
“It’s so cool how cardiology runs in your family. I’m a premed sophomore at Vandy, myself.” She pressed a hand to her chest.
I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I’d mostly made peace with the fact that, despite having my doctorate, I was the only nonmedical person in my family of renowned medical pioneers and philanthropists, but every once in a while, the old sting rose to the surface. “That’s, uh… You’re thinking of my cousin Carter. I’m the other Dr. Rogers. The black sheep.”
“This is Kevin. The one who’s a talented computer… erm…” Grandfather waved a hand in my direction as though expecting me to supply the word. “Inventor person.”
I nodded seriously. “Yes. I personally invented computers.”
“Oh. Wow.” Maggie, who, tragically, had been born without the ability to recognize sarcasm, got a little pucker between her eyebrows. She looked from my face down to my polo golf shirt—which had a tiny embroidered Yoda with a five iron over my heart along with the words “May the Course be With You” spelled out in rainbow letters—then to my grandfather and back to me. “That sounds… difficult?”
“Not really,” I said modestly. “The time travel was the trickiest part. Once I had that down, the rest was easy.”
Maggie stared at me in utter confusion.
Grandfather coughed lightly. “We’ll both have the turkey club sandwiches and side salads,” he said with a firm smile. “Thank you, Maggie.”
She forced a smile and nodded at him, but she kept frowning at me, even as she walked away, like she low-key questioned the genetics that had led me to be a Rogers.
Girl, same.
Grandfather lifted an eyebrow at me, and I sighed and squirmed like a little kid who’d been caught misbehaving. “I was only joking.”
“I know, Kev.” He sounded fond but a little out of his depth, as usual. That my grandfather loved me to the ends of the earth, I had no doubt whatsoever. But he didn’t know quite what to do with me, either, and never had.
“I don’t like salad. And I dislike being treated like a child,” I muttered… exactly like a child.
“I know that too,” he said cheerfully. “But making you eat your vegetables is a habit I’ll never break, even when you’re a hundred.” He winked. “So, how are things in the Thicket? How are the newlyweds?”
“Oh, fine.” I waved a dismissive hand. “Carter went right back to work, and so did Riggs. Literally, nothing changed.” I pondered this for a second. “Except Riggs’s name, I guess. He’s a Rogers now.”
Grandfather made a supremely proud and satisfied noise, as though he’d personally engineered this outcome… which I supposed, in a way, he had. “Proof that not all Rogerses have to be doctors,” he said pointedly.
I smiled, just a little. “Yeah, I know.” At least, I knew it in theory. “So, um… Mom emailed me,” I said a moment later, after Maggie had delivered our drinks.
Grandfather’s mouth pursed in a way that had nothing to do with the lime in his drink. “Did she?”
“First time since…” I sucked down some water and thought about it. “Hmm. I think since my birthday last year? She’s been praying for me every day, though.”
“Of course, of course! Too busy praying to pick up a phone, presumably.” He rolled his eyes. “What else did she say?” The way he asked the question made me suspect he knew the answer.
“Oh, the usual. That Shepherd Church is doing some amazing things in Burundi, providing needed medical care, and she knew I’d be interested in helping them out. She said I could go over and volunteer if I wanted… or just make a donation if I’d feel more comfortable doing that.”
He made a rude noise. “Yes, your father contacted me about a donation also.” His voice was strained the way it always got when he talked about my parents. I knew he didn’t agree with most of their parenting choices, and I tried not to feel bad that I’d driven a wedge between Grandfather and his only living son.
“What did you say?” I wondered.
“The same thing I hope you said.” He lifted an eyebrow. “To take a long walk off a short pier. The Rogers Family Foundation doesn’t give financial support to charities that aren’t actively pro LGBTQ+, and neither do I.” He narrowed his gaze. “That is what you told her, right?”
I couldn’t restrain my smile. Some people pitied me for the way my parents had left me to be raised by my grandfather, but I figured I was pretty lucky, all in all. If the first family members I’d had to come out to had been my parents… well, I might not have come out. Ever. Instead, I’d had Carter and our grandfather, and they’d been fierce champions for me, always.
