The trial was over.
Trick Daniels was going to prison for a nice, long while.
No one who lived in Stellar Landing even mentioned it, most likely because they had all moved on to bigger and better, or at least other, things. It wasn’t until Chris and Raff started to tell their Alaska friends that they were heading back to New York City that anyone even seemed to remember that this was a temporary thing. The press hadn’t been a problem since Raff’s hospital homecoming. It was a little joke that the bikers had successfully scared them off for good.
Occasionally, one or another of the bikers from the motorcycle club was seen in the halls or the lobby of the building, visiting a new friend. In fact, in a surprising turn of events, Gladys was dating Cranky Craig.
“It’s Craig,” she corrected, every time someone called him by his club moniker. “No one actually calls him Cranky Craig. And he’s not cranky at all. He’s really sweet.”
Her friends refused to stop. It was too good a name to not say at every opportunity.
Cranky Craig was actually a great guy, and he and Gladys made an attractive couple. She was tiny and spritely, with more than a little punk rock running through her veins. He was tall and steady, and wore black eyeliner and heavy silver rings. When he parked in the lot before their dates, he could be seen combing his hair in his rearview mirror, and he held doors open for Gladys (and whomever else was around). It was clear he worshipped his tiny, blue-haired girlfriend and she constantly looked up at him with adoring eyes.
Even Elizabeth loved Cranky Craig. It was almost Halloween and Gladys invited her down for one last fitting of her kitty-cat costume. Craig got down on his hands and knees and started meowing right along with the little girl and, just like that, they were best friends for life.
Raff was glad that he gave in and asked Gladys to make the costume after all. The building was so much more welcoming and safe now, and he knew his daughter would have a great time trick-or-treating. They booked their flights home for the next day, so that Elizabeth would have one last hurrah with her friends, and so Chris and Raff could say goodbye to their neighbors.
They were just waiting for Raff’s cast to come off. He told anyone who would listen that the thing was driving him nuts and, if he had to fly with his arm sticking straight out from his side, he would promptly jump off the plane. It was to everyone’s great relief, then, when the doctor cut the cast off at the next visit.
Raff’s left arm was now pale and relatively scrawny, and all the kids in the building asked to touch it on Halloween. He took great pleasure in dramatically rolling up his sleeve and watching as the kids’ eyes grew large with wonder. It was as if he had the best costume of all. Elizabeth acted proud of her father and, when someone did not ask to look at his arm, she would pull on it and demand, “Wook!”
It was the best possible way to end their extended stay in Stellar. There was no need for a goodbye party—even though Gladys offered—because everyone was celebrating in the halls; kids and adults alike. As Raff, Chris and Elizabeth went from door to door, they were able to say goodbye to their friends and neighbors, and receive their wishes of continued good health and good luck, along with enough candy to last Elizabeth well into the next year.
Chris watched his husband out of the corner of his eye all night, appreciating the genuine happiness he exuded.
“See you next summer,” Raff said, over and over, and Chris was relieved. He wasn’t sure if, after all that had happened, Raff would want to return.
The next morning, they locked up their summer home and began the long journey that would get them to New York early the next morning. When the bright lights of Manhattan appeared in the blackness, they gave each other a kiss.
Finally home.
***
The good mood didn’t last long, unfortunately.
Physical therapy was kicking Raff’s butt. It was necessary to regain full use and strength in his left arm, so that he could avoid another surgery, but it was exhausting and painful.
Every few days, he would call Sam for encouragement, which took the form of Sam laughing at him for being a “two-hundred pound weakling.” But the humor seemed to help.
Raff still wasn’t ready to go to work, so he was bored. He stayed home with Elizabeth while Chris worked on building his new practice, but he couldn’t pick her up. He also could no longer sit on the floor and play with her, lest he not be able to get himself back up. Chris moved Elizabeth’s dollhouse to the kitchen table so they could play together more easily, but the changes in Raff’s physical form seemed to depress him. He’d always been the strong, big guy, and he was no longer as strong as he used to be, at least for now.
Another unexpected change was that, while they had plenty of friends in New York City, they didn’t get together as much as their friends in Stellar did. The sudden lack of a social life was quite jarring after spending half a year with neighbors who stopped by without calling and friends who planned parties for every holiday including Flag Day and Grandparents Day.
They weren’t lonely—friends and family were a phone call away—but they were a little let-down. It was like the days after Christmas when you were a kid; a little boring, a little disappointing.
Chris knew that he needed to find a way to perk his husband up.
There was something that kept running through Chris’s head. Back in Stellar, when Sam saw the press hanging around like vultures, he said that no one cared to truly get to know Raff.
It seemed that way. But it wasn’t true.
While they were in Stellar, their Brooklyn mail was forwarded to Chris’s office, and one of the letters was from the anchor of a popular television news magazine. Her name was Beverly Berkin and she was a well-respected veteran in the news industry, trusted by Americans young and old. As she became older, she chose stories that were more uplifting; a change that was appreciated by the nation when so much of the nightly news was distressing. Her letter to Raff said that she was intrigued by his story, as were many Americans, and she wanted to give him a chance to tell the whole tale.
Chris and Raff often opened each other’s mail. It was no big deal to either of them. Raff was still in the hospital when the letter arrived and, after reading it, Chris decided not to bother Raff with it just then. He needed to get better.
But what about now?
As promised, Chris kept his days at the office short. It was easier than expected to keep that promise now that he was getting more and more pregnant each day, and was needed at home as well. He arrived home that night at 5:30 with a big bag of Thai food. Usually that would elicit an expression of appreciation from Raff, but tonight he was just quiet.
“I got you spicy som tam with shrimp,” Chris said, realizing that he was using the same tempting tone as when he tried to get Elizabeth to try a new food. He opened the container that contained the papaya salad and showed it to Raff.
Raff half shrugged and took the container with a quiet “Thanks.”
They ate at the coffee table, with the television on, catching up on the latest season of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt while Elizabeth gnawed on a vegetable spring roll.
The silence was coming back.
Chris grabbed the remote and turned off the television.
“So listen, Raff. I’ve got something to tell you. Something big.”
That got his attention. “Is everything okay? Is it the baby?”
Chris reassured him that the baby was fine. Then he told Raff about the letter from Beverly Berkin, about how he contacted her when they got back to New York, and how she still wanted to give Raff a platform to clear his name.
Raff cleared his throat. “Do you think that’s necessary? Does anyone really care?”
“Necessary? I mean, it’s not going to change our life drastically whether you do or not. But have you seen this?”
Chris reached into the drawer of the accent table and pulled out a tabloid that he picked up earlier in the week. On the fourth page, in a small one-column article, was a picture of Raff leaving the physical therapist’s office. He was wearing blue sweats instead of signature Levis and black tee, because it was too hard for him to put on anything else these days. His mouth was open and his eyes were half-closed, an intentional shot to try to make him look bad.
The title read “Brooklyn Beefcake Biker’s Body’s Broken.”
Raff picked it up. It was obvious that he hadn’t seen it. “That’s one shitty title.”
Chris snickered. It was nice to hear Raff crack a joke.
“Well, just so you know, they’re still out there. And they’re still interested. Maybe doing the interview would create some compassion, or at least quell some of the rumors. Because I’ve seen other articles. This is one of the nicer ones.”
Raff nodded.
“The other thing is, it pays well. And while I would normally not ask you to pimp yourself out, we do have some bills to catch up on now that I’m working for myself. We can cover your physical therapy or the surgery, if it comes down to it, and whatever’s leftover we can put into Elizabeth’s college fund or donate to charity.” He was using that tempting voice again.
“How do we know that she will be fair, you know? That she won’t cut out pieces of what I say and make me sound like a criminal. Or an idiot?”
“That’s not going to happen. You know why?” Chris leaned over and kissed Raff softly while looking into his eyes. “Because you’re married to one of the best lawyers in New York City. And I’m definitely the best lawyer in Stellar, Alaska. I’ll work up an agreement that the show will have to sign. And if they break it, I’ll have them charged with libel so fast, their heads will spin.”
Raff’s face broke into a grin. “You’re sexy when you’re litigious.”
“I know.”
The next morning at breakfast, Raff said he wanted to do it.
“You’re sure?” Chris was thrilled with the choice, but he also wanted to make sure that Raff was doing it for himself, not because Chris wanted him to and certainly not for a paycheck.
“I’m sure. Draw up that contract thing and let’s go over it tonight. And, if you don’t mind, I’m in the mood for tacos. I’ll pick them up from Anita’s with Bizzy when you’re on your way home.”
Much more so than the words, it was Raff’s mood and body language that told Chris that, yes, Raff was sure. He was going to be on Berkin’s Broadcast.