The Burning Point

  "You're so right about the hunger for touch." She leaned into him, her forehead resting on his shoulder. "More than anything, I miss being held."

  "After Barbara's death, I invited both dogs onto the bed to help me make it through the nights." He put his arms around her without passion or demand. Simply friendship, because if he told her how he really felt, he'd scare her to death. Life had knocked out a lot of his pride. He'd settle for what bits of affection he could get. "Think of me as a larger version of Oscar, always available for a hug."

  She laughed a little. "But I think you'd want to do something that Oscar, poor darling, hasn't been equipped to do for years."

  "I won't deny that. But I don't want anything you don't want to give."

  "What bothers me is that I...would want what you want."

  "We can work things out as we go along, Julia. Fill up some of the empty places in each other's lives. It doesn't have to be a sexual relationship or nothing." He stroked her back and she relaxed, absorbing his embrace like a flower thirsting for water. There were undertones of desire between them, but for now that wasn't important. What mattered was that they were in harmony again. "Just don't shut me out."

  She tilted her head back, and he saw that there were unshed tears in her eyes. "Forget the law, Charles. You should have been a used car salesman."

  Recognizing that he'd won his case, he relaxed into a smile. "Maybe I should. It would be a step up in status from being a lawyer."

  She gave the first real laugh he'd heard from her since Sam's death. They were friends again.

  Maybe, God willing, someday they would be something more.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Kate enjoyed the post-shot celebration, but after an hour of chatting and grazing the sandwich buffet, fatigue hit hard. She drove back to the Grand Maya and took a long, leisurely bath. Then she put on her lounging robe, dug a small, over-priced bottle of wine from the minibar, and sprawled on the sofa. The vague dreams she'd harbored all her life had been turned into reality, and the results had been beyond her expectations.

  She was lazily trying to decide if she was ready to go to bed and sleep for ten hours when Donovan returned. "You didn't last long," he said.

  "When I started yearning to curl up underneath Carmen's desk for a nap, I knew it was time to call it a night." She smothered a yawn. "Can't wait to get back to Maryland and have a few days of peace and quiet."

  "Not until day after tomorrow. Remember, we have to go to San Francisco to look over some old bank building."

  "I'd forgotten." Or rather, she hadn't wanted to remember. Her conscience might not let her take the easy way out when breaking up with Alec, but that didn't mean she would enjoy doing it the hard way.

  Donovan straddled a chair and folded his arms across the back. "If he has the time--maybe we can have dinner with Tom?"

  She came instantly alert. "Why--so you can call him a faggot to his face?"

  "No. So that I can apologize for being a jerk."

  Donovan hadn't been the only jerk--Sam had been far worse. Even for Kate, the most doting of little sisters, Tom's coming out had been a shock.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  It had been a Saturday in spring--the last spring of her marriage--and she'd been planting flowers along her front walk when her brother dropped by for a visit.

  Tall and dark haired and handsome, he ambled across the new grass, his eyes less relaxed than his posture. "Got another trowel, or is this a one-person garden party?"

  "Heck, no, if Donovan was home, I'd have roped him into planting petunias."

  Tom went for a trowel, then dropped to his knees on the other side of the slate walk and began to dig. Kate found it soothing to have him there, especially since things had been very tense between her and Donovan lately.

  Would talking to Tom help? He was the best sounding board she knew. But if she revealed that Donovan was sometimes a little...a little too angry, her brother would not be objective. Worse, it seemed a dreadful betrayal of her husband to discuss their marriage with an outsider.

  "Kate, there's something I want to tell you." He looked up, regarding her with the blue eyes that were so much like their mother's.

  She sat back on her heels and wiped her forehead. "Are you and Rachel getting married? You two have been hanging out forever. Now that you're out of school and making pots of money as a programmer..."

  "No! Nothing...nothing like that."

  "What, then?"

  "I'm not going to be marrying anyone. Ever." He placed a geranium in a hole and patted the dark soil around it. When he could delay no longer, he took a deep breath and raised his gaze to his sister. "I'm gay, Kate."

  She blinked at him, at first not processing the words. Then she recognized what he meant, and her blood drained from her face.

  Tom said tightly, "Say something, Katie. Please."

  She reached across the stone path and took his hand. Though she was numbed by the news, this was still Tom, her brother. His fingers locked around hers.

  "Sorry. I...I have to readjust my assumptions here." How could Tom be gay? He liked women, enjoyed their company. But as she looked back, she realized that his behavior toward her friends had been that of a brother.

  Lord, what had it been like for Tom, having to hide something so basic about himself? "I...I've always looked forward to you having kids so I could be an aunt. I'm going to miss that. But I'll get used to it."

  "Probably quicker than I will," he said.

  "How...how long have you known?

  "All my life, I think. Some of my earliest memories are of knowing that I was different, and that I mustn't talk about it. I've spent years trying to deny what I am, but I can't live a lie any longer."

  She thought of Rachel Hamilton, who'd been dating Tom since high school. "Does Rachel know?"

  "She figured it out a while back."

  "How did she react?"

  "Rachel's going to make a great doctor--she was totally calm. In fact, she's the one who raised the subject a couple of weeks ago, saying it was time I sorted myself out. I almost passed out from shock, but once I recovered, it was an incredible relief to be able to discuss what I am openly. She encouraged me to tell the family. I figured that I'd start with you, because you're the most likely to...accept me." His voice wavered.

  "Oh, Tom, how could I not?" She knee-walked over the flagstones and hugged him. "You're the best brother in the world, and I love you. I always will."

  He embraced her so hard her ribs hurt. They clung together for a long time as tears stung Kate's eyes. He was the kindest and most compassionate man she'd ever known, but many would judge him on his sexuality without learning anything else about him. "This must have been so hard for you to carry alone."

  "It...hasn't been easy." He released her and sat back on his heels. "At least you haven't told me to never darken your door again. It's a start. But I'm worried about telling Mom and Dad."

  "They love you, Tom. You're no different today than you were yesterday. They aren't going to toss you out for being who you are."

  "I think Mom will react like you--shocked, but able to handle it. But Dad..." He scooped a handful of soil and crumbled it in his hand. "This will break his heart. It was bad enough when I refused to follow him into PDI, but this is far worse. His only son, a fag. Queer. He's going to be devastated, and it's going to come out as rage."

  Tom was probably right. Their father was stubborn and an unrepentant traditionalist. The man who wouldn't allow his daughter to work in the family business would be horrified to learn that his only son was homosexual. "He'll be upset, but he'll get over it. He always does."

  "This is different, Kate. Very different." Tom turned his trowel restlessly in his hands. "Donovan is going to have trouble, too."

  "He'll be startled, but he's always really liked you. Also, he's got less invested--it's easier to accept a gay brother-in-law than a gay son."

  "True. But would you mind not telling him until I'm ready to tell Mom and Dad?
This coming out business is a real energy drain."

  "Not to be rushed," she agreed. "Now get to work, or I won't feed you lunch."

  Her brother laughed, and they went back to planting flowers. In later years Kate had occasional moments of wishing that her brother had been given an easier lot in life, but his sexuality had never once been an issue between them. He and his friends had been a godsend when she ran away to San Francisco, bruised in spirit and body. Their support had carried her through the worst time of her life. She wouldn't have changed her brother even if she could, because she loved him so much exactly the way he was.

  But others had not been so tolerant.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Kate realized that she was holding her stemmed wine glass like a weapon. Donovan had noticed, too. "You look like a mother cat ready to defend her kittens to the death," he said.

  "Sorry. Tom doesn't need me to defend him."

  "I've wondered...since Tom has lived in San Francisco for so many years. Is he...?"

  "HIV positive? No, Tom's fine. But Mick, his 'long-time companion,' as the obituaries say, died three years ago." In the final terrible days, she had taken her turn at nursing, and had wept for days after the funeral. After the initial devastation, Tom had sublimated his grief by hospice work, offering his strength and compassion to others who were dying. "Mick was a great guy."

  "I'm sorry," Donovan said. "For what it's worth, having to figure out how I felt about Tom helped later, when a friend of mine came out. Instead of freaking, I was able to say 'Big deal, let's go to the ball game.' He appreciated that."

  "A pity you weren't so enlightened about Tom."

  "I was a total idiot. Plus...there were other complications then, too."

  That was true. "After mature consideration, how do you feel about Tom?"

  "That he's a terrific guy who happens to prefer men to women," Donovan said. "I'd like to make amends to him for past behavior. Grovel a little, sackcloth and ashes, whatever."

  "A good grovel will probably work. Tom isn't the sort to hold a grudge. I'll call and see if he's free. I'll call my partner as well. I really miss having Liz around."

  She withdrew to her room, thinking that Donovan really had changed over the last ten years. For the better.

  Chapter 23

  "Welcome to Sa-a-an Fra-a-an-cis-co, Baghdad by the Bay!" Kate caroled, the wind whipping her hair as she accelerated the rental car onto the Bayshore Freeway. To her surprise, Donovan had tossed the car keys to her, saying this was her turf, so she could chauffeur him around. In the old days, he'd automatically taken the wheel when they were together, and she'd found a certain retro pleasure in letting him drive.

  Her elation at being home again surprised her, considering that she hadn't been gone that long. As she drove north into the city, she decided it was because, as Donovan had said, she was on her turf. Not living in his house, not a neophyte learning the business from her ex-husband. In San Francisco, she was strong and in control.

  "What are you grinning about?" Donovan asked.

  "The fact that humans are as territorial as wolves, and this is my territory."

  "Does this mean you get all hairy at the full moon?"

  "Maybe." Realizing that she was almost flirting, she kept her attention on the freeway. It was one of the perfect days that sometimes came to the Bay Area in winter, when rains had washed the sky and the air was so brilliantly clear that it was possible to pick out individual buildings on the East Bay. A day to walk along Fisherman's Wharf like any tourist, and eat crab soup with hot sourdough bread.

  Instead, they were going to the offices of PDI's prospective client to discuss a job. But after work--playtime, and a night in Kate's own house, courtesy of Jenny Gordon, who would stay with her parents for the night. Apart from the short visit she intended to pay Alec Gregory in the evening, it should be a fun day.

  Donovan, who'd been gazing out over the bay, said, "It would be dead easy to bring down the Bay Bridge. Two hundred pounds of explosives, tops."

  A little startled, she asked, "Do you always look at structures in terms of how you'd demolish them?"

  "Always."

  It wouldn't be long until she did the same.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  As Kate pulled away from the El Dorado Bank, Donovan loosened his tie. The site visit he and Kate and the bank's real estate manager had made to the structure slated for demolition had been straightforward, though at the meeting back at corporate headquarters they'd been unexpectedly joined by the company president. "I wonder why the CEO showed up for something so routine."

  "He was drawn by the glamour of PDI, of course," Kate said. "You impressed him. You're going to get the job of taking down his old office tower."

  "I hope you're right. It's hard to tell with corporate barracudas."

  She pulled up at a light. On the street corner, a mime was entertaining a small group of entranced, or possibly baffled, tourists. "Trust me, the barracuda liked you."

  His gaze dropped to the glimpse of knee visible where her long skirt fell open from a series of buttons that ran from hem to waist. She'd unfastened buttons to just above the knee to show off her elegantly booted legs. Remarkable how much more provocative that was than a mere short skirt. "You're the one who did the impressing. If you'd unfastened one more of those buttons, he'd have fallen into your lap."

  "When dealing with barracudas, a woman's got to use every weapon she has. Why do you think I wore this skirt? It's gotten results before."

  He laughed. "You're shameless. Here I thought that you conducted all your business meetings in a spirit of professionalism and low-key intelligence."

  "Damn. I was hoping you wouldn't figure that out."

  Relaxed by the bantering, he gazed out at the city. Kate had been a real asset at the meeting, even though Randolph had first assumed that she was Donovan's secretary or girlfriend, if not both. Her brains impressed the CEO almost as much as her hemline. If PDI got the job, Kate deserved a good share of the credit. Nick Corsi had made a pitch for the project, but even if he'd brought his wife to the meeting, Angie was no Kate.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Donovan wasn't fond of having to face people he'd insulted, and Tom Corsi didn't make it particularly easy for him. His former brother-in-law was already seated at the Khyber Pass, the Afghan restaurant in Kate's old neighborhood where they'd arranged to meet for dinner. He got to his feet when Kate and Donovan came to the table. Tall and lean, he had his father's dark hair, and his mother's blue eyes. His face showed the decade had passed, and perhaps a few years more.

  Tom had always been easygoing, but today his eyes were like flint. After hugging Kate, he said to Donovan, "It's been a long time."

  "Too long. For years, I've wanted to apologize. When I should have been trying to help, I made things worse." Donovan offered his hand.

  After a brief pause, Tom accepted the handshake. "Apology accepted."

  It was a start. They sat down, Kate covering any awkwardness by launching into a colorful description of the Las Vegas shot.

  A few minutes later Liz Chen came tearing in with apologies for being late. Petite and graceful with a mane of black hair, she was a perfect San Franciscan, her features suggesting a blend of Chinese and European. "So you're the infamous Donovan," Liz said. Her hand was small, but her shake no-nonsense.

  "I don't think I want to know what that means." This was indeed Kate's turf; he had the distinct impression that pretty little Liz would rip his throat out if she thought he was giving Kate a hard time.

  "Actually, what makes you infamous is that Kate said so little about you." Liz gave Tom an affectionate kiss, then took the seat opposite Donovan. "California is full of ex-spouses, and usually one hears entirely too much about them. Kate was so discreet that I was able to speculate endlessly."

  "And Liz has a great imagination," Kate said.

  Before Liz could voice any of her speculations the waiter came to ask for drink orders, and the conversation moved on
. Though Tom said nothing to Donovan, Kate and Liz's easy chatter prevented that from being obvious.

  Ease ended with the meal. As the waiter cleared the dishes, Tom said to Kate, "I know you and Liz are dying to talk shop, so I'll take Donovan for a walk. We can meet at your house in an hour or so for dessert and coffee."

  Kate gave her brother a narrow-eyed glance. "Fine. I'll take back some Khyber Pass elephant ears. I warn you, though, if you spend too long exploring, there might not be any left when you get to my place."

  After a brief tussle over the check, which Liz won by explaining that she'd learned so much about demolition that the meal was clearly deductible, Tom led Donovan outside. It was dark, and February in San Francisco was damp and bitingly chilly.

  They walked a block in silence, cresting a hill. A splendor of lights gilded the undulating highs and lows of the city. Wondering if he should speak, Donovan glanced at Tom, whose profile was cool and reserved. No, leave the first move to Tom, who'd wanted this encounter.

  At the bottom of the long hill, they passed a shabby Mission-style church, pale fog ribboning the bell tower. Tom asked, "Do you still go to mass?"

  It was not what Donovan expected. "Not lately."

  Tom turned toward the church's front door. "Then come in for a visit. Good for the body on a cold night. Benefit for the soul is optional."

  "Is this your church?"

  "No, I live a couple of miles away in another parish, but I drop in here regularly." Tom genuflected, then ambled up the left aisle. "I like churches. Any flavor will do. My idea of a vacation is going on retreat to a monastery in New Mexico."

  In the dim light Donovan saw the Stations of the Cross painted in traditional Spanish style. Though different from the churches of his boyhood, he would have known it was Catholic with his eyes closed. Decades of incense and piety had saturated the wood and stucco. "How do you reconcile the Church's official attitude toward gays with your faith?"