Chapter Ten
Taine
“On the whole, not your best plan, eh, Remi?” Taine felt no guilt in laughing at the idiot sitting beside him in the vehicle. The man held a cold pack to his swollen cheek. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to poke a wounded beast—they tend to poke back.”
“Freme ta gueule.”
“You’re welcome.” Taine always enjoyed pretending he didn’t understand French. It amused him to respond incorrectly to being told to shut up. “If you knew your brother-in-law would react badly, why’d you press him so hard?”
“Someone must.”
“Next time, bring Caddock.” Taine had never enjoyed being dragged into family drama. He had none—and never much saw the point of it. “Back to the inn? It’s Monday. I should be heading back to Cardiff. We’ll tell them I punched your lights out for insulting my mother.”
“You don’t know your mother.”
“Want to tell them the truth?” Taine shared a smile with the man. “Do you think your brother-in-law will be all right?”
“Hope so. It would break Sarah’s heart if he wasn’t.” Remi reached down to turn the radio up, clearly done with the conversation for the moment.
Can’t blame him; bet talking hurts like the devil right now.
The silence on the way back home gave Taine plenty of time to think over the chaotic weekend. He’d expected to have a few drinks, a sore head in the morning, and a good trip down memory lane. He hadn’t anticipated Scottie’s meltdown or Remi’s family angst. The appearance of Graham’s nurse had unnerved him as well.
Better not think about him.
Safer.
For both of us.
The new number on his phone mocked him. Taine hadn’t stayed at the Fisherman’s Refuge for long. Scottie had devolved into worse than insufferable after the attempted attitude intervention, so he’d decided to return to his new home in Cardiff.
Speedy squeaked delightedly once placed in his palatial terrarium. He immediately scurried around to burrow inside his little shire-like cave. Taine found it relaxing to watch him.
“Just you and me, Speedy.” He paced the entire length of his home from the front door through the halls, the bedrooms, and finally out into the back garden. He was startled several seconds later when his mobile rang, but smiled at the name on the screen. “Father Wilson.”
“Andrew.” His adoptive father almost always used his middle name.
The calm, mellow voice with its slight lilt always managed to put him at ease. Taine listened to the old priest’s lengthy story about how his weekend had gone. They tended to speak several times a week.
“You’re pensive, Andrew.” Father Wilson paused in the middle of talking about the upcoming feast day celebration. “Has something happened?”
“Nothing.” He hesitated briefly. “I told you about the young nurse who seemed overwhelmed at the hospital a while ago in the cancer ward. I met him again—he’s the one who coordinated BC’s Graham’s care this past year.”
“I’ve prayed for the young man. Offering care to the terminally ill is not an easy choice of work.” Father Wilson had sat by many a sickbed, so Taine imagined the man knew what he was talking about. “What about this nurse has you so out of sorts?”
“I’m not out of sorts,” Taine barked out. He had to chuckle sheepishly. “Perhaps a little off-kilter.”
“And?”
And I have no idea.
Taine shrugged, which his adoptive father couldn’t see. “He’s young.”
“As you’ve mentioned multiple times.”
He scratched his still overgrown beard and tried to determine the best way to rationally explain himself. “He’s young.”
Well, that’s cleared things up, hasn’t it?
“Do you like him, Andrew?” Father Wilson had always been a little too intelligent and insightful over the years. It meant Taine had to toe the line more than most teenagers might have. “Or, perhaps you think you might grow to like him if you got to know him?”
“Maybe.”
“Taine speech for yes?”
“You’ve been hosting those classes for teenagers again, haven’t you?” He always found it amusing the way the priest tended to pick up certain turns of phrase from his younger parishioners. “How’re your knees doing? Still hurting?”
“I’m getting old, Andrew. The joints all start to hurt at this age.” Father Wilson sighed. “You weren’t called to live a lonely life, lad. If you find this nurse intriguing, what’s the harm in talking with him?”
“Are you sure you’re a Catholic priest?”
“God judges, son, not I. He gave you to me to cherish and love. What sort of father doesn’t love his son, whatever his choices in life?” Father Wilson coughed a few times, having been dealing with a cold for the last week. “I believe it’s time for me to rest. Think on it, lad.”
When Taine had come out as bisexual, he had fully expected to be at best lectured to constantly. Father Wilson had always been vocal about believing in God’s love and mercy. He walked his talk strongly and firmly; he also refused to judge anyone for their actions and decisions.
It had been a moment in his life impossible to forget. Being abandoned as a child had left an indelible mark on his spirit. Taine knew one of the worst flaws in his personality was his habit of keeping people at arm’s length and expecting them to disappoint him.
He expected abandonment.
Father Wilson hadn’t been a perfect adoptive father. No one could claim that distinction. But he had gone above and beyond for a baby left on his doorstep like a bottle of milk.
“Are you feeling any better with your cold? Do you have soup?” Taine worried about being so far from Scotland. It hadn’t bothered him until age started to catch up with the priest. He’d even considered moving at least to Glasgow to be within closer driving distance. “Should I come for a visit?”
“You can’t run up here every time I have a sniffle.” Father Wilson never took his illnesses seriously. “The doctor said I’d be fine in a day or two—it’s only a little cold.”
They chatted for several more minutes before ending the conversation. Father Wilson’s words stayed with Taine. He didn’t like Freddie; he hadn’t known him long enough to do so as more than a casual acquaintance.
He knew what the real question was.
Do I want to know more?
Standing in his kitchen by the hob, Taine glanced across his empty home. Alone, no pun intended. He could admit in the privacy of his mind how lonely he’d been of late. He might not find marriage the least bit attractive, but not having someone to share his life with meant long evenings with no other companion aside from his hamster.
He ate his steak and chips standing by the kitchen sink. No sound in the home to disrupt his thoughts. The silence slowly dissolved his initial intentions to avoid the new name in his mobile.
Do it.
Taine: You awake, Nurse Bunny?
Freddie: It’s eight in the evening, of course I’m awake—I’m at work.
Taine: Had dinner yet?
Freddie: I think I had half a curry at some point.
Taine: Half?
Freddie: Shared with one of the doctors. Why?
Taine: Want to have dinner with me?
Freddie: Not tonight, or this week. I’m dealing with several patients including a kid. I’m probably not the best company in the world at the moment.
Taine: Tell me when.
So, not a yes.
And, not a no.