THREE

 

From time to time, there had been a man who was so stunning that Judah had had a hard time with it. It didn’t happen very often, but it did happen. Every time, Judah had reminded himself that he was in a situation where he couldn’t exactly just try anything, and as the years passed and he remained inexperienced because of it, it had been much easier just to assume that he would have no idea what to do and let those moments, those men, go by.

It was terrifying, in a way, to think of being caught now. But on the other hand, who would catch him? As far as he knew, no one had even remotely considered the possibility that he was interested in men. More than one person had told him that he was married to his job and that it was deeply admirable.

So he was probably safe, despite his strange, disturbing reaction to this hostile man, this Will, who wouldn’t stop looking at him with those toffee colored eyes. What would it be like to be around Will when he wasn’t angry? How would it feel to see him smile?

There was no way that he would ever find out, of course. Most people responded well to him, he’d found, but there were a few who actually seemed to dislike him because of his calling, and Will definitely seemed to be one of those kinds.

Honestly, the safest thing for him to have done was very clear to him, in hindsight. Will had assumed things about him, and it would have been quite simple just to allow him to continue to assume those things. Let Will think that Judah had something against gay people. What did it matter?

Except that it did.

Maybe it was Stephen, and Judah’s desire to build a choir with Stephen at the center of it, which he still was hoping wasn’t completely off the table. Maybe it was the defensive, but superior way that Will had said the words, I’m gay, which Judah couldn’t help but find fascinating.

More likely, it was just the desire not to be misunderstood.

Whatever it was, Judah was in it now. He had spoken up, and now got the satisfaction of seeing Will’s bemused expression, his utter confusion, which wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Will struck him as a man who was very sure of himself, and if Judah had shaken that a little, he wasn’t disappointed.

“I’ve heard a lot of things about homophobia in churches,” Will finally managed, and his voice started to get stronger once more as he started to speak. “I don’t want my son around that. I’ve kept him from it as much as possible. He doesn’t need to think that his father is sinning.”

There was a half-mocking tone to the way that Will said the last word that Judah found interesting. Actually, he found everything about this man interesting, no matter how much he shouldn’t. There was a detachment that Judah had always managed when dealing with people, but it was proving difficult to maintain around Will.

“I wouldn’t tolerate that sort of thing in my church.”

Will gave him a look that Judah didn’t quite know how to interpret, but he didn’t let that hold him back. Will could believe him, or not, and there wasn’t anything that Judah could really do other than state the truth to change his mind. But he was certainly going to try.

“This is Texas—” Will started, but Judah waved him off with an impatient movement of his hand. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard that sort of statement before.

“I know what state we’re in.” And he had noted before that Will didn’t have the local accent. He sounded like he probably came from way up North, and seemed to have a generally low opinion of Texas in general. Or was that just because Will was not in a great mood right then? “And I don’t care. This church will be a safe place. Your son won’t hear anything homophobic from me, and if I hear about it happening, you can be assured that I will respond appropriately.”

For just a moment, Judah could almost swear that he saw something in Will’s eyes. Something, a faint flicker of uncertainty, as though Will considered his words almost without meaning to. It was only there a second, but Judah could swear that he was right. He was, after all, watching Will pretty closely, whether he should be or not.

“Well,” Will’s eyes cleared and his lips, which had almost relaxed, tensed up again, “that’s a very nice sentiment, but I’m still not sure about it. Why do you want him around so badly, anyway?”

Which was, Judah supposed, a fair question, but he had the sense that the answer was going to open a whole other can of worms. Still, he had Will talking to him, and he had done that partially by being honest with him. He really didn’t see any reason to stop now.

“I want to start a choir. A children’s choir. And the rest of them look up to Stephen.” Judah let his hands rest on the edge of his desk, and he most deliberately did not clench them around the wood. Will would notice if he did. Judah wasn’t sure that he had ever been looked at in as intense a way as Will was looking at him.

For a long moment, silence reigned in the room, and Judah had to force himself to stay calm and relaxed. He looked at Will, tried not to admire the symmetry of his face, and let him think it out.

“I think he’s going to pass,” Will finally said, and Judah tried, but didn’t quite succeed, not to let his shoulders slump. “Sorry. It’s just not the sort of thing that my family is interested in.”

It would be so easy to let himself get angry, to tell Will that it just wasn’t true. Maybe Will wasn’t interested in it, that much was clear enough, but Stephen? Stephen had been. But Will seemed very protective of his son, and somehow, with something that could only be called instinct, Judah knew that he wouldn’t get what he wanted by getting upset at Will.

“I have a proposal for you, Will,” Judah admitted, getting a secret, hidden little thrill out of saying the other man’s name like that. “Hear me out. I understand that you’re worried about your son, and I can tell that you care about him. And there’s still a chance that this choir won’t happen at all.”

Judah sensed that it would though. He had gotten some seriously interested vibes from the kids, at least once Stephen had stepped forward. If Stephen was in, others would follow in his footsteps.

“Okay …” Will trailed off, dark eyebrows arched in eloquent question, and Judah continued.

“But if it does go forward, I would like to invite you to come to watch a choir practice. In fact, you, or any other parent who wants to, is always invited to watch. Your son is very gifted musically, Will. I heard him singing with his friend, and he has a natural talent for it.” He paused and then twisted the knife just a little bit deeper because he could see Will hesitating. “And he loves doing it.”

Will worked the idea over in his head, and from the expression on his face, Judah could tell that the other man wasn’t highly excited by the idea. But he was considering it, and that was something. Will struck him as a fairly stubborn person and completely devoted to his son, which Judah couldn’t help but respect. It was probably a pretty big deal that Will was even thinking about it.

“I don’t know,” Will spoke slowly. “I believe that you mean well, but I just don’t know if a church is the best environment for a child with a gay father.”

A gay father. One. Singular. Judah couldn’t help but notice that, although, of course, it wasn’t relevant to him. What did it matter if it seemed to him that Will was a single father? It wasn’t like Judah could do anything about it.

“I promise to you that nothing of that sort will happen in my church.” Judah paused and then sighed softly. His words meant nothing, which was strange because he was used to people generally sort of believing him. But not Will. Will was a skeptic, and Will was looking out for his son, so he wasn’t going to believe anything easily.

There was, of course, one thing that Judah knew he could say, one thing that would break through to Will, he hoped. One thing that he had never told anyone before, that he had never expected to say out loud, though he was very aware of it in his own head.

But Will was going to say no, that much was clear, if Judah didn’t take this drastic step. So he took a deep breath, and before Will could say anything, he spoke again.

“You’re not the only one who’s gay, Will. You won’t have to worry about what your son will hear about gay people, because even if you can’t trust in my desire to do the right thing, to create the sort of environment where anyone can feel safe, you should be able to trust in my self-interest.”

Will was listening. This was the closest that Judah had ever come to saying the words he was about to say, and he was terrified. Even knowing, as he did, that he was speaking to someone who wasn’t likely to judge him for the words, he still could barely hear his own voice over the pounding of his own heart, seemingly right against his eardrums.

“I’m gay.” The words were out. For the first time in his life, they were said to another human being, words that he had tried to deny, even to himself, but had gradually come to accept. “I’m not in any position to judge you, or to allow you, or anyone else, to be judged in my church. You, and your son, and everyone else will be safe within these walls.”

Never had Judah meant anything that he had said this much, never in his whole life, but would it be enough? Would Will be able to allow himself to believe them? For what felt like an hour, Will was utterly silent, just staring at Judah’s face as though he could read the secret to life itself there.

Or was that what he was doing? It was hard for Judah to tell, hard for him to read that handsome face, when he got so distracted by the full curve of his lower lip, by the flecks of gold and green in his hazel eyes. By the way that he sometimes found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, Will liked to look at him just as much as he liked to look at Will.

Which was ridiculous and probably not true, and even if it was, it didn’t matter. But it was distracting nevertheless.

“You …” Will shook his head, cutting himself off, and then started over again. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come to exactly one choir practice, and then, I guess we’ll see.”

Quite abruptly, Will rose from his chair, and Judah barely even had time to enjoy the sense of triumphant relief he felt. He had won a chance. Just a chance, but it was more than he would have had if he hadn’t told Will his big secret.

Judah stood, too, and watched as Will left, with a long, lingering look over his shoulder that Judah couldn’t help but notice. He had surprised this man, he thought, and that was something.

Even once Will was gone, Judah stayed on his feet, forced his knees to stay still, his back to be straight and strong. He wanted to collapse into his chair, and he wanted to let himself look at what had happened. Wanted to bring Will back, if only in his mind, and see what was behind those intense, smoldering looks of his. Was it just dislike? Just worry for Stephen? A mistrust of religious people, or new people, or both?

It didn’t matter. Will wasn’t likely to be around a lot, Judah figured, so it should be easy enough just to push all of this away. Easy just to focus on his work, on building this church into something that would be the pride of the town.

So then why did Will’s face, his smooth caramel voice, linger in Judah’s mind?