Page 8 of No Kind Words

“This way.” I lead Maeve to the left and down another busy street. This one has an exclusive-looking art gallery halfway down, the window display showcasing some incredible paintings. Another place I’d like to explore.

I’m only here for the weekend, for now anyway, but my interest is piqued. Calston Cove looks a lot better than the town I left.

When we get to the property, a sporty, bright red Mini is in the car park. The estate agent, I presume. The door opens, and a familiar person steps out: Stacey. Her surname escapes me, but she’s my age, and we were in a lot of classes together.

“Oh my god! Jethro Palmer. Where the hell have you been?” She leans in and kisses my cheek. She was always pretty, but now she’s a beautiful woman. She looks me up and down. “Wow, you look great.”

“You look great too, and it’s Jet now,” I say, then turn to Maeve. “Stacey, this is my friend and right-hand person, Maeve.”

After they say their hellos, Stacey takes a ring of keys out of her bag and motions for us to go forward. “It’s such a shame about Mr Gurney. He was a lovely man. It was all very sudden too. One minute he seemed right as rain, then gone the next. A heart attack. There’s no one to keep running the place. He worked by himself and has no family able to take over. So it’s being sold as seen. All the equipment is included. We can negotiate the price as the family are open to offers.”

She unlocks the doors, goes in first, and turns on the lights. “I can’t believe it’s you. You left so suddenly, and no one saw or heard from you. We were worried. Your dad was a difficult man. Everyone knew that.”

“He was a mean and violent drunk, Stacey, not difficult. He was a bastard.” I can’t keep the hardness out of my voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out that way.”

“That’s okay. I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m going to let you look around. You know way more about this sort of stuff than me. One thing, Jethro, it would be good to have you back here again. We missed you.”

I don’t know what to say. It’s sweet of her, and the kindness has chipped off a little of my armour.

Of course the place is perfect. Everything I want for my practice is here. I’m sure I’ll be able to get the loan from the bank, and combined with my savings, I can buy it. I’ll need to see the accounts and get a survey on the building.

After saying goodbye to Stacey and telling her I’ll be in touch, we walk back towards the house. Maeve is buzzing with excitement and plans. She can so see it as my place. We reach the café with the amazing aromas, and Maeve walks to the door. “Come on. My treat.”

It’s quieter now. There are still plenty of customers, but the rush seems to be over. I let Maeve lead me to the counter to look at all the pastries as well as the board on the wall behind the server.

Just as I’m about to order, I overhear the server say Benny to the other young worker. It’s only a casual comment, but it feels like the whole world is closing around me. Does he work here too? Where is he? Could he come out of the kitchen right now? I listen a little closer. The young worker says he’s gone home. So he does work here. It could be a coincidence—Benny is not that rare a name—but when I left fifteen years ago, he was the only one with that name. Although I was the only person to call him Ben. Just for the two of us.

The art of tuning out customers’ conversations is something that takes time. My coffee shop slash bakery is a focal point for locals to meet and catch up. I’ve heard plans to break up before the poor soul concerned did. I watched people fall in love and have seen heartbreak. I heard joy over pregnancies and wedding proposals, and worry over health scares. The ability to not listen has taken me years to perfect.

Saturday mornings are always hectic, with queues outside the door waiting for a table or takeaway coffees and pastries. Today is no different. Even the cold weather hasn’t kept anyone away. I lift my hand in greeting to Ivan and Brodie, who’s carrying Milo.

They walk to the only table available, which is closest to the counter. It takes them a couple of minutes to get settled. Coats and hats come off, and Milo sits on Ivan’s lap while Brodie comes up to the counter to order.

I hold up my hand. “Gimme a couple of minutes, and I’ll get it out to you.”

With two plates of bacon and cheese omelettes and extra bacon on the side for Ivan, I walk to their table. Ivan’s words stop me in my tracks, and the plates wobble in my hands.

“I was so shocked to see him, and he looks so different from when he was in school. He was quiet, studious, cute in a geeky sort of way. Nothing like the sexy tattooed guy I met yesterday, and the woman with him is a surprise. I always thought he was gay. Then Jethro disappeared. A matter of here one day and gone the next.”

Jethro? Jethro is back in town. Fuck, he didn’t come home for the funerals of either of his parents. Why now? What the fuck is going to happen when I see him? Especially if he’s not the beautiful, shy but adventurous young man I knew and wanted to share my life with fifteen years ago.

Brodie’s voice brings me back to the here and now. I give them an apologetic smile and place the plates in front of them. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

I don’t give them time to reply and flee back to the kitchen with every intention of staying there for the rest of the day. Too many thoughts, unanswered questions, and anger are whirring around in my head and coursing through my body. As I sink into the chair at the small prep table, memories of the barn and the last time I saw him assault me.

The sheen of sweat that clung to his chest as he drew deep lungfuls of air, the blissed-out smile and half-closed eyes as he came down from his orgasm. The smell of sex mingled with hay and warm sea air. I can almost taste it on my tongue. Before I can lick my lips to see if it’s real, the air turns to fear. And fury. Anger so palpable I want to shrink away from it.

The nightmares that followed me after he left always felt like this: it wasn’t me being threatened; it was Jethro, and I was always too far away to reach him, to get to him before the first lash of the belt hit him. I’d wake up with his name on my tongue and bile in my throat. My imagination has run wild with thoughts of what had happened. The shouting, the vile, hateful words Palmer spewed at him as he attacked his own flesh and blood.

“Benny?” Maddie puts her head around the kitchen door. “Are you okay? I’ve called you a couple of times.”

I straighten, push my hair from my clammy forehead, and get it together again. Thank god, she snapped me out of my haunting memories. “Um, no. I’m not feeling too good. Can you let the customer know the kitchen is closed for fresh cooking?” It’s two o’clock, so I’m not going to let too many people down, and we’ve got plenty of food we can heat up. There’s soup, and baked potatoes are warming in the oven. No one will starve.

The short walk to my house makes me nervous. I could bump into him at any moment. What would he do or say? And me, what am I going to say? Will we recognise each other? He’ll be thirty-three now, still prime age, whereas I’m forty and, in my mind, officially middle age. The hair at my temples is going grey, as is my short beard. After the shitshow that was Jamie, I joined Brodie’s running group, determined to get back in shape. For six months, I had happily eaten whatever Jamie wanted, and I’d put on a few pounds.

I’m not certain I have enough to gain Jethro’s interest again. The lust for a twenty-five-year-old is different. I’m not looking for secretive hook-ups. Hell, I’m not looking for hook-ups at all. If only I’d got the life Jamie said he wanted too. I haven’t changed my mind about that. I still want the whole caboodle—marriage, kids, the cute house, and the golden retriever. Would Jethro be into that? He’s still only thirty-three. Way too young to want to be tied down with a husband and children. And even if he does, who says he’d want that with me?

Why is he here? His old home has been sold. The barns, almost derelict when we sneaked in them, are restored to function as working buildings again. Does Ivan know? And he mentioned Jethro having a woman with him. Has he realised he’s bisexual? The idea doesn’t seem real, not to the man I knew all that time ago.

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