Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Getting moved in and unpacked is only the start: once the house is in order there’s a succession of mundane tasks to be done – finding a vet for Ha-eun and registering the two of them with the medical practice, organising cable and wifi, setting up the order for heating oil and wood for the fire – and when Billy’s tackled those he squares up to the challenge of the half-wild yard. Goody’s time and attention is absorbed in setting up the store, his days spent elbow-deep in boxes or co-ordinating deliveries over the phone, and his evenings writing out recommendations for the shelves in his neat spiky hand and fretting over the balance between popular literature and heavyweight novels, contemporary and classic.
The store itself, the shopfront now reading E. Goodnight Robicheaux, Bookseller, is transformed from the day they saw it, floorboards freshly varnished, wooden shelves gradually filling with bright new books and tables laid out for feature displays. It seems to Billy the essence of a bookstore, its deep windowsills padded with blue cushions to encourage browsing and its little back room a treasure trove of picture books with beanbags for sitting and reading aloud. Goody’s kept the ancient cash register on the checkout beside the stands of clip-on book lights and stationery; it’s hokey, the sleek modern card reader hidden away below, but he insists to Billy that it adds necessary character.
Billy’s up on the gallery where his prints are displayed under the newly-installed spotlights; they’re from a series he took in Boston trying to capture his longstanding vision of the city as country, its rivers of traffic, canyons of streets, vertiginous cliff-faces of buildings and tangled vines of telegraph wires. Looking at them now he feels his usual sense of mingled pride at what he’s managed to capture, a moment’s vision preserved forever in shades of grey, and panic that he’s already reached the limit of his inspiration and talent and he’ll never be able to replicate it. When you start to feel confident, he repeats to himself, advice from long ago, that’s the time to put the camera down. He’s rearranging a display of glossy art books when there’s a knock at the door and Goody exclaims, ‘Sam!’
Billy peers over the balcony as Goody jumps up from the box he’s unpacking to let in their visitor. ‘Trust you to turn up as soon as the hard work’s done.’
It’s strange to see Sam in their new surroundings – they’re more used to him turning up in their apartment, ready to soak up some nightlife and culture – but now here he is, imposing even out of uniform and grinning fit to bust. ‘Had to come and see the only real bookstore west of Augusta.’
He and Goody hug, and he flips Billy a salute over Goody’s shoulder. Sam and Goody go way back, before Goody ever met Billy: fresh out of the army and taking his information science qualification, too old and experienced for college life, Goody had found a kindred spirit in Sam, there for a masters in criminal justice. Though their paths took them different ways after, their bond has endured, too deep for Billy to resent.
‘Like it?’
Sam revolves to take in the full effect. ‘Most impressive.’
‘It’s a real gem, isn’t it?’ agrees Goody proudly. ‘I know Rose Creek wasn’t your first suggestion, and we did look at Langston, and Huntsford and Dresden – but honestly, tell me we were wrong.’
‘Business seem promising?’ asks Sam.
Goody wavers a hand, comme-ci, comme-ça. ‘Hard to say yet. Obviously there’s a lot of interest right now, everyone will want to come and see when we’re officially open, but maybe in three months’ time we’ll be old news.’
‘Bookstore’s something every town needs,’ Sam disagrees, ‘though there is an argument that Langston needs it more.’
Goody gives him a wry smile. ‘Supporting an independent bookstore long term is going to be a big ask anywhere. But Matthew from the school, he wants to talk about textbooks and maybe even organising some readings, so …’
‘So far, so good?’ asks Sam, and they laugh together, a private joke.
‘How’s Ellie?’
Sam’s face softens. ‘Doing well. You’ll see her when you come over.’ Billy’s never met Sam’s sister; she’s a school counsellor, that much he knows, but she’s never ventured to visit them. From what he’s gathered some past trauma keeps her living in Sam’s protective shadow, though neither Goody nor Sam have ever talked about it directly.
Sam settles himself on one of the window seats. ‘See you survived the move OK.’
‘Just.’ Billy looks affectionately at Goody.
‘Didn’t stab each other, that’s what counts,’ says Goody cheerfully, ‘and have to say, settling in’s been easier than I thought. Didn’t know how people would react to’ – he gestures to himself and Billy – ‘but they’ve been nothing but friendly. Leni next door, she’s been a real help with the practicalities, and Josiah at the library, and Matthew…’
‘…from the school – would that be Matthew Cullen?’ asks Sam, head on one side. ‘I remember him when he was in high school, and Emma too. Closest thing to troublemakers Rose Creek had in my time.’
Goody laughs. ‘I’ll tell him you said so – forgot you’d know everyone here from the old days.’
Sam leans forward slightly. ‘Man called Bogue been around? Short, dresses like his grandfather?’
‘Met him the first day,’ Goody assures him. ‘Not seen him since, though. But Faraday, he’s the new auto business, he said Bogue helped him set up too, so he’s doing right for the town.’
‘Of course he is.’ Sam sits back. ‘Bogue has a hand in everything round here.’
Goody reaches behind the counter for his jacket. ‘Want to go get coffee? No need to mind the store if I’m not open yet.’
Sam shifts a little awkwardly. ‘Truthfully, I’d rather stay here than sit in a café. Wouldn’t want to run into Harp or any of his boys, even if I’m not on the clock.’
‘Serious turf war with the next town?’ teases Goody, but Sam doesn’t laugh.
‘We don’t see a whole lot of each other, and that’s the way we both like it. He does things his way and I do mine.’
‘Tell me what you want and I can fetch it for us,’ offers Billy; there’s no point pushing the issue if Sam’s determined to keep a low profile. ‘Bound to be somewhere close by.’
Goody drops a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thanks, cher.’
They’ve not had the time to try any of the cafes here, and Billy rejects the first he comes to, a franchise where he suspects the coffee will be bitter and overbrewed and the pastries tiny and cardboard; the second looks like the kind of old-fashioned café that gives small towns a bad name, where a clique of hostile customers shoot new comers suspicious glances over plates of stodgy pie. He feels a pang of regret for the favourite haunt they’ve left behind: all the effort expended to find a coffeeshop which was modern without being soulless, serious without being snobbish and welcoming without being self-consciously homespun. Is it really too much to ask to find somewhere similar?
And suddenly there in front of him is a café apparently sprung fully-formed from his imagination, its big windows revealing well-spaced tables and comfortable sofas. He pushes open the door onto a low buzz of conversation and the scent of some quality coffee, then recoils at the sight of the name on the glass. Teddy’s Ba-Q-ry?
The young man at the counter has shoulder-length hair and an attempt at a beard; ‘Help you?’ he asks with a friendly smile.
The deplorable pun repeated on his apron sets Billy’s teeth on edge. ‘What’s with the Q?’ he demands accusingly.
The young man beams. ‘That’s me. Teddy Q.’ He offers a hand. ‘You must be Billy, Em told me about you. Thought I’d see you or your husband in here before too long.’ Billy blinks, blindsided by the combination of disarming enthusiasm and disturbing familiarity, and Teddy laughs. ‘What can I get for you ?’
‘One green tea, a large Americano and a double macchiato, to go.’ Billy looks around as he waits. It really is his kind of place, the atmosphere lively but unhurried, customers chatting or tapping at tablets; he spots a striped cat curled up asleep in a corner of one of the sofas. ‘You’re the owner?’ he asks.
Teddy favours him with another bright smile. ‘Always wanted to run my own café,’ he confides over the whine of grinding beans. ‘And I said, right from the start, that’s what I’d call it.’ A commendable commitment, Billy supposes, to a tragic lack of taste. ‘Anything else for you?’ Teddy gestures to the trays of cakes and pastries.
Billy scans the selection, as mouthwatering as Carmen’s cooking: cranberry-maple muffins, chocolate-beet brownies, brown sugar peach cake... ‘Zucchini cake’s good,’ offers Teddy. ‘Zucchini are fresh down from Jack’s farm. With pecans.’
‘Spell those with a Q too?’ Billy can’t resist asking.
‘I’ll change the label!’ Teddy’s obviously decided to find him entertaining, and in the face of his annoyingly impeturbable goodwill Billy has to capitulate. ‘Give me two pieces, and a cranberry muffin.’
Teddy organises the cups into a carrying tray for him and bags the muffins. ‘Tell Goodnight I’ll be down to the bookstore as soon as he’s open.’ He’s so puppyish and enthusiastic Billy can almost forgive the name. Almost.
Back at the store he has to rap on the glass: Goody jumps to his feet from the windowseat where he and Sam are sitting to unlock the door for him again.
Sam takes his cup with a nod of thanks then picks up the thread of their conversation: ‘…a spate of petty thefts, must be related; you’d think it was the roadhouse, but though we’re up there most weekends dealing with fights we just can’t put a finger on where it’s coming in. Danger is if it creeps into the school.’
‘There seriously that much trouble around here?’ Billy can understand Goody’s scepticism: it’s hard to imagine violence and addiction among the well-kept houses and bright new institutions of Rose Creek.
Sam looks grim. ‘Don’t have to look far in Langston to find it – too many men with time on their hands and no money.’ He shakes himself out of his dark mood. ‘But I didn’t come here to cast a blight on proceedings. Goody’s told me how he’s set up – how about you?’
Billy shrugs. ‘Haven’t had much time yet.’ It’s true, at least in part. ‘No shortage of advice, though – everyone thinks they know what I should be out to photograph round here: they keep telling me just wait until fall, the colours are something else, or recommending quaint rural houses.’
‘Guess they’ll be in for a shock when they get up on the gallery,’ agrees Sam.
‘Enlarge their horizons some,’ says Goody stoutly. The worry is plain on his face, though, so Billy tells Sam, ‘I’ve got some commission work for the moment: can take my time to find a Rose Creek aesthetic.’
Sam nods, serious. ‘Just keep looking until you see what’s really there.’
‘We’ll come over to Langston once we’re sorted out,’ promises Goody: he and Sam have always had the knack of picking their friendship up as though no time has passed, and Billy envies them that.
‘Town’s not up to much,’ warns Sam, ‘and I know you’re too lazy to appreciate the hiking trails, but we can take you out on the lake, it’s best in summer.’
After a while Billy drifts up to the gallery again, the low rumble of conversation a background as he contemplates the photographs that line the wall. Sam’s question, well-meant though it was, has tapped his unease: can he find a way to express something about this environment, or will it resist his efforts? He focuses on the closest image, a cluster of telegraph poles and traffic signs reflected in the puddles of rainwater on the street to make an artificial forest, scraps of trash floating like fallen leaves. What is he going to do with real trees, tens of thousands of them and all the same? And if he can’t find anything original to say, what then?
He’s jerked from his introspection by the explosive cough of an engine outside: it stutters, halts, then rattles back into life, unusually loud. Billy leans over the balustrade to check on Goody: unexpected noises can be a trigger for him, but to his surprise it’s Sam who’s on his feet.
‘Going to have to love you and leave you,’ he announces abruptly as the sound fades into the distance. ‘Past time I was heading back.’
‘Of course,’ says Goody, a little taken aback, ‘glad you could come by.’
Sam’s already at the door, waiting for Goody to let him out. ‘Come over for the day soon,’ he urges, ‘we’ll take the boat up to Grafton Pond.’
‘Sure,’ promises Goody, unlocking the door, ‘but we’ll see you back here first, won’t we? Housewarming’s--’
‘Won’t make it,’ says Sam distractedly, ‘sorry. I’ll call you.’ And with that he dives out the door and disappears around the corner without looking back.
Goody locks the door again behind him, frowning. ‘That was odd.’
Billy comes back down the stairs. ‘He really on such bad terms with the police here?’
‘Who knows?’Goody squats down beside his box to finish unpacking. ‘Don’t know what this Harp’s like, but Sam’s a man of principle, doesn’t bend the law to do favours for his friends.’
Billy sits down on the bottom of the stairs. ‘That why he left?’
Goody wrinkles his nose. ‘When we met he was all for getting out of Maine altogether, was going to be a lawyer after his masters. But he changed his mind, went back again. All he ever said was Langston was more of a challenge.’
‘Comparatively, I suppose.’ Now he’s seen Rose Creek Billy can understand that policing it could be dull. ‘But why not somewhere bigger, if he wanted more action? The kind of stuff he was talking about, it’s not exactly major league.’
Goody pauses in his shelf-stacking. ‘Think Ellie came to live with him round about then. He never said much about it and I never liked to press.’ He arranges the remaining books on the shelf, straightens them to his satisfaction, then stands up with the empty box. ‘But that wasn’t what I meant. He said they couldn’t come to the housewarming.’
Billy shrugs. ‘It’s a shame, but I guess it’s short notice.’
‘Yes, but…’ Goody looks back to the door. ‘ … I never told him when it was.’
--
Sam’s words echo in Billy’s mind two days later as he drives up to the school against a tide of children streaming home, freed into the summer afternoon. Watching them push and shout, off to play in the wide safe streets or fan out into the margins of the woods to splash in the creek, climb and explore, it seems to him the kind of idyllic childhood that belongs to another age. Will they still grow up into disaffected teens, he wonders, open to the temptations Sam described? It’s hard to believe: the older boys and girls that follow the wave of shouting youngsters seem sober, responsible, conformist. If there are any misfits, goths or punks or rappers chafing at their narrow horizons, wanting something more, he doesn’t see them.
The parking lot at the school is mostly empty and no sign of Goody yet, but a team of little girls are practising on the sports field and Billy wanders over to join the parents on the sidelines while he waits. It’s Josh coaching, just as he said, yet somehow it’s still a surprise to see him in track pants and Raptors tee, putting a squad of intense young players through their paces. He’s good, Billy realises after a while, working his team methodically through a series of ball control exercises – dribbling around markers, running and passing in opposite chains and then in a circle– but making it fun rather than competition, keeping up a stream of jokes and encouragement.
‘I think your husband’s making my husband late,’ says a voice beside him: it’s Emma, in her work clothes with her hair pulled back severely, but lively as ever.
‘He has a lot to say for himself.’ Billy makes space for her on his bench.
‘If it’s about poetry Matt will give him a run for his money. Best make yourself comfortable.’ She suddenly breaks into a grin. ‘Hey, isn’t that…’ She points: at the other side of the field another coach is practising with the goalkeeper, firing neat shots for her to stop; he’s tall and lanky with dark curly hair and a deft touch. ‘Looks like Ale made good on his promise.’
‘Why are you so keen to see them get together?’ asks Billy.
Emma turns back to him, direct as ever. ‘I think they’d be happier. I am, with Matt. Aren’t you?’
Billy can’t help but relax into a smile: from the moment he met Goody he’d been all in, understood, accepted, loved with a straightforward passion.
‘See?’ Emma looks back to Josh, reorganising the players into two teams for a practice match and waving Alejo into goal on the other side. ‘I know it’s not easy for a single parent but Ale’s so good with children, and now he’s back…’
She tails off and they watch in silence for a while until the ball comes arcing in their direction, Blue and another girl chasing after. ‘Nice work,’ Josh shouts as they tussle energetically for control.
Emma’s gaze rests on them a little wistfully, he thinks. ‘They’re fearless at that age. If only you could keep it. ’
Billy raises his eyebrows. ‘I heard you were a terror in high school.’
She turns, intrigued. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Sam Chisolm.’ After the experience of the cookout it’s a tiny pleasure to have the upper hand in a conversation. ‘Chisolm!’ exclaims Emma. ‘That takes me back. He seemed to have a sixth sense when we were doing something we shouldn’t.’
‘Which you mostly were?’ asks Billy dryly.
Emma grins. ‘There was one night I convinced Matthew and Teddy to climb onto the roof of the firehouse, can’t even remember why now, but the police turned up on a random patrol; Harp stopped running after about a hundred yards, but Chisolm just wouldn’t give up – chased us all the way across town, right back to my house.’ Her eyes dance with amusement at the memory. ‘We had to pile in through the window at the back, and my dad answered the door and swore the three of us had been there all evening.’
Behind them there’s a distant burst of laughter he recognises; Billy looks around to see Goody coming across the lot with Matthew. ‘And here we all are,’ finishes Emma, ‘pillars of the community.’ She eyes Billy suspiciously. ‘Did you really meet him in a bar fight?’
Billy looks affectionately at his husband, bookish and bearded. ‘Goody wasn’t always a librarian.’ Goody spots him and his face lights into a grin: he’s handsome as always, cornflower blue eyes sparkling in the sun, but with something newly relaxed about him – carefree, Billy thinks.
‘They’ve been hearing about us from Sam Chisolm,’ Emma tells Matthew as they join them.
‘That’s right,’ declares Goody, ‘he said he remembered you.’
‘Chisolm? Bet he does.’ Matthew puts his arm around Emma and drops a kiss on her head. ‘How come you know him?’
‘We’re old friends,’ Goody tells him. ‘Really he’s the reason we came out this way to look for a place.’
‘Haven’t seen much of him since he moved – Langston, wasn’t it? Left us here with Harp.’
‘What’s he like?’ After what Sam said Billy’s curious.
‘Couldn’t find his ass with both hands.’ Goody snorts at Emma’s crisp response. ‘You’ll see him cruising round sooner or later, or sitting freeloading in Teddy’s place.’
‘Thought the fat cop who eats donuts was a stereotype.’ It’s certainly hard to imagine Sam working alongside him: was he edged out as too much of a threat, Billy wonders.
‘Hope to be seeing more of Sam now, and Ellie too,’ Goody adds.
‘Oh, that’s right,’ exclaims Emma, ‘I remember her. She was older than us; I always thought she was really cool and smart. Wasn’t she valedictorian?’ she asks Matthew.
Matthew frowns. ‘I think so. But after, wasn’t there some tr—‘
He’s interrupted by a cheer from the field as Josh and his players explode out of a huddle and scatter back to the locker room. Josh leaves Alejo gathering up the cones and balls and comes loping over, glowing with enthusiasm. ‘Ain’t they something? Shaping up real well. Charlie went ten for ten on goal, and Eve and Deanna are so quick.’
‘See Ale came to show you how it’s done,’ says Emma sweetly.
‘Helps to have two for the training,’ allows Josh, ‘And he ain’t too dusty.’
‘Some silky Latin footwork going on there, if you ask me.’ Matthew manages to keep a straight face.
‘F--,’ begins Josh, then remembers where he is. ‘Like you know jack about soccer.’
‘Rewarding though this is, Billy and I have an appointment to keep,’ announces Goody, as though it’s not his fault they’re late. ‘But before we go, let me invite you to our housewarming. This Saturday.’
‘Sure thing,’ says Josh at once, ‘Blue’s at a sleepover.’
Emma and Matthew exchange a glance. ‘Can we bring Teddy? He’ll be hanging out over at our place.’
‘From the Ba-Q-ry?’ Since he’s discovered the name of Teddy’s café Goody’s taken an inordinate pleasure in using it at every opportunity; he ignores the stony look Billy gives him. ‘Of course. And you can bring your boyfriend,’ he tells Josh.
‘He is not my-‘ Josh grates.
‘Come on, güero,’ shouts Ale from the lot where he’s marshalling Blue and two of her friends into the car. ‘We’re going for ice cream.’
Goody raises an eyebrow. ‘And we have to get to the vet’s. Don’t let us hold up your date.’
It takes them half an hour to circle back home, fetch Ha-eun and make it to the surgery at the top end of town. The building, when they find it, is as new as the hospital. ‘Lone Deer Veterinary Clinic,’ reads Goody. ‘Bit New Age, isn’t it?’ he comments as they make their way inside. ‘I’d have expected vets out here would be down-to-earth types birthing cows and doctoring horses.’
‘We do large and small animal work,’ volunteers the receptionist with a professional smile; Billy’s able to recognise her by now as Alejo’s other sister. She waves them through to the waiting room. ‘Won’t be long: just take a seat.’
Goody settles Ha-eun in her pet carrier at his feet. ‘Think they’re any relation to Psyche’s Garden?’
The question is answered when the vet appears to call them in: he’s a Native American, hair braided down his back and a powerful frame under his scrubs. ‘Who do we have here?’ he asks, holding open the door to the examination room.
‘Ha-eun, Goody and Billy,’ grins Goody.
‘And which one of you is in the cage?’ The vet doesn’t crack a smile or introduce himself, though his badge says he’s R.H. North.
‘Ha-eun,’ says Billy meekly, putting the carrier on the examination table and opening the latch to let her out. ‘We just need to get her registered.’
‘We’re new in town,’ Goody adds. ‘Goodnight Robicheaux, bookstore owner, and Billy Rocks, photographer. It’s good to meet you,’ – he glances ostentatiously at the badge – ‘Mr North.’
‘Heard about you,’ says North briefly: his manner is brusque, but his skill with animals is plain: though Ha-eun’s nervous and reluctant North persuades her out onto the table and checks her eyes, ears and teeth with a gentle and practised touch. ‘Any known conditions?’ he asks.
‘Laziness and ingratitude?’ Billy eyes Goody: North is darkly handsome in something of the same way as Alejo, though he seems as serious as the other is sunny, and Goody seems to have set himself the challenge of winning a smile from him, though North seems to be equally determined not to rise to the bait.
‘She’s in good condition.’ North runs a hand over Ha-eun’s back and she arches into his touch. ‘Coped OK with the move?’
‘Think she’s enjoying having more space – she’s spent a lot of time in the basement chasing mice.’ Billy’s found it slightly unnerving to see their spoiled housecat morph into a tireless predator.
North nods. ‘Cats’ innate skills can lie dormant until they encounter the right conditions.’
‘Think it’ll work for us too? Now I’m here, will I suddenly find I know how to fix a tractor or raise a barn?’ Goody’s giving it all he’s got, and Billy can’t really blame him – it’s not often his charm meets such an impervious response.
North remains stony-faced as he keys Ha-eun’s details onto his screen. ‘Not intending to let her outside?’
‘No,’ says Billy quickly; he runs a finger over her dark head and the unconscious gesture brings the first shadow of a smile to the vet’s face.
‘Plan is to build her a catio so she can get some sun and air,’ adds Goody.
North nods shortly. ‘Good idea. If you need help with the work, Alejandro Vasquez’ your man. Tell him I recommended him.’
‘You’re a friend of Alejo’s?’ The question’s out before Billy realises how dumb it is in a place where everyone knows everyone else.
‘Friend.’ North appears to consider the word as though it’s not a concept he hears much. ‘I guess so.’
‘Well, why don’t you –‘ starts Goody, but whatever he was going to say is cut off as a nurse pops her head around the door. ‘Red, could you come help with Mrs Garrett’s Doberman?’
‘Of course,’ says North, then to Billy as he opens the door of the carrier to let Ha-eun slink back inside, ‘we’ll send you a reminder for her shots in a few months.’
As soon as they’re outside, Billy stops, carrier in hand to confront his husband. ‘What’s got into you?’
Goody’s eyes crinkle in amusement. ‘Harmless fun, cher. Always best to keep on the good side of your vet.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘Strange nickname, though. Not much red about him I could see.’
Billy tucks the carrier carefully onto the back seat. ‘Why are you so fascinated? You were an embarrassment in there.’
‘Think he’s gay?’ asks Goody, unmoved.
‘Get in the car,’ Billy tells him impatiently, then, as he starts the engine, ‘you think everyone’s gay.’
‘Everyone is gay,’ insists Goody stoutly. He gives Billy a sidelong look. ‘Especially the dark silent ones.’
‘You’re ridiculous,’ Billy tells him, though he can’t suppress a smile.