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Sighing, he did so, his voice nervous. “We ahh… tied our scarves together. I’m afraid they’re pretty much ruined now, honey. I’m sorry.”
Glen cut in to support Whit. “Me too. But Demi, it was the only thing we could think of. First, we knotted them, and then tied an end to the sled. I was able to hang onto the other end and we got him to the junction.”
“Then I’m glad you had them. Don’t worry, I’ll make you new ones.” She secretly chuckled at their fallen expressions. What they didn’t know was how much better she’d gotten at her hobby. In fact, she’d already finished their new scarves and would wrap them up for Christmas. This time, rather than using a multitude of bright colors, she’d stuck to their favorites. She wanted them to really like them and not just pretend so they didn’t hurt her feelings.
Rudy sensed the undercurrents and cut in. “Just so you know, I’m thankful for your knitting, Demi.” She moved closer to the bed and gave Glen a nudge. Seeming to understand her mission, he slipped to the end of the bed where Whit stood, leaving her the space he’d occupied.
“What? What’s wrong?” Rudy looked from face to face, a scared expression beginning to take over his pale face. “The old man. Did he hurt you, Demi?”
“God, no. Of course not.”
Rudy peered closer as if he didn’t believe her, but her straight look must have convinced him she told the truth.
“Then he’s dead.”
Not surprised at his assumption, she told the truth. “Yes. He died on the way into town… in Clive’s snowplow. Rudy, he wanted to come to the hospital and tell you how sorry he was for hurting you.”
Rudy’s anger surfaced. Words spurted from between his dry lips. “He never gave a shit about hurting me or my brothers before. Did it all my life. I never should have expected anything different. But I promised Glen I’d tell him the truth. So, for once in my sorry life, I stood up to him.”
“You’re wrong, Rudy. He did care. Tried to make it back alive to tell you himself. But he thought he might not survive. So he gave me these words to tell you. I swear… his exact words. He said he was sorry for hurting you. That he needed to tell you… that for now and always, he was proud of you, and he loved you.”
Rudy’s face crumpled but words of anger still came out. “I don’t believe he meant it. How can I? He never gave a flying fuck about any of us boys.”
Demi’s voice rose in Fred’s defense. “Because he didn’t know how. He cared, but he didn’t know how to show his feelings. They were beaten out of him at a very young age. Listen, he gave me the honor of telling me his story, and if he were alive, I’d never say anything. But… now that he’s gone, I feel that I have to.”
Rudy took the wad of tissues from Glen and wiped the tears away. Then he made eye contact with her, listening intently.
“When your dad was a young boy, until the age of fourteen when he ran away, his stepfather physically and sexually abused him.”
Demi heard the strangled sounds in the room but ignored them.
“Because of the guilt he felt, always believing the evil lived inside of him, he hated any kind of homosexuality. Not just dislike, but with a personal hatred that had eaten away at his humanity for years. He’d had to battle that sourness in his soul all his life and liquor helped him forget. Then you told him your truth. Rudy, he might have been able to accept anything else, but not that. He just couldn’t understand how you would be happy living his worst nightmare.”
By the time Demi finished her tale, there was a lot of sniffling and sighing in the room, her included. “He loved you Rudy. Out of all his boys, you made him the most proud. He told me you had such a kind heart, and he liked that. Maybe it’s why he reacted so strongly when you confessed about you and Glen. I don’t know, but please know this. He was truly sorry for hurting you. Truly.”
Once she finished, the silence was deafening. Then Rudy slid down into his bed and turned his face to the wall. As if he understood, Glen motioned for Demi and Whit to follow him out of the room. When they were in the hall, he took Demi in his arms and hugged her so hard, she couldn’t breathe easy for as long as it took Whit to move in.
“God, Demi, you couldn’t have made that man happier. He’s worn the threat from his old man for years, terrified to let him learn his truth. I tried to make him believe he wasn’t cursed. That loving me is still love. That God didn’t hate him like we believed Fred would. Now he’ll be free of all that nonsense.” By the time Glen finished, he’d broken down and Demi had to hold him close to let him take his moment.
Finally, she felt him suck in a healing breath, and looking at a wet-eyed Whit, she saw him nod.
She understood his unspoken message. Time for them to leave. “Good. Go. Be with him, Glen. He needs you now.”
When Whit swung her into the safety of his arm and guided her to the door, she took the moment to wipe her own cheeks. Just as they reached the hallway to the outside, a good-looking woman came toward them, her face wearing a grim expression.
Ahh… the famous doctor.
Chapter Thirty-two
A few days later, Demi decided it was time. “Let’s go and cut down a Christmas tree this morning. What do you say?”
“Sure. I guess the big day is getting close. I told you that Glen came home last night. Not sure if you heard him. It was pretty late, and you were out cold, snoring away, sawing logs.”
“You take that back, Whitaker Hart. I don’t snore.” She flipped her dishtowel in his direction.
Laughing, dodging her reach, he added, “Like a grizzly.”
Chasing him, she pushed him into his chair and landed in his lap. Then she withheld her lips until he caved. “You’re right. You sleep like a baby. No sounds at all. Now convince me we should get that tree. So you know, kisses will talk me into doing most things, but sexual favors will get you anything you want.”
