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found in the freezer. As he stared out at the swirling snow and
four-foot high drifts, he wondered how he could ever have been so
self-centered to deny who Wendell was and expect him to live here
in this often miserable place. Hot and humid in the summer,
crowded and dirty in so many places, electrical failures and
snowbound. Great God Almighty, where had he had his head?
Four days later, he watched a snowplow clear his street with his
cell phone to his ear as he phoned airlines. He packed a suitcase
and slung a guitar across his chest. When the taxi arrived, he was
ready. Humming in the icy air, he skipped down the steps to the
sidewalk.
As the cab drove away, he didn t look back.
It wasn t until he was in the air that he allowed himself to
consider he might not be wanted. He may have hurt Wendell so
much he wouldn t risk being with him. And then there was this
guy he d been dating. Was he really into this man? So many
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unanswered questions.
I ll never know if things can change between us if I don t try.
It was late evening by the time the taxi pulled up in front of the
Living the Good Life Farm gates. He paid the cabbie and his
excitement to be here spurred a generous tip.
After the bitter cold of Chelsea, it seemed warm here. Carrying
his luggage and guitar around to Wendell s house, he pressed the
doorbell. No response. There was a dim light on inside, however,
so he left his belongings on the wide porch and explored the
nearby barns.
His throat tightened and his heart almost beat its way out of his
chest when he spotted Wendell on his knees in one of the stalls,
watching as a wobbly newborn lamb struggled to gain its feet for
the first time. Its mother stood above it, licking clean its dark coat.
It was a little Herdwick.
Periodically, the baby gave a little baa.
I thought this one wasn t due until early spring, Jon said as
he noted the chalked color on the ewe s wooly coat. Images of sex
with Wendell behind the boulder when he d noticed chalking on
the ewes flashed. He felt heat flood his cheeks and knew he d
blushed. Thank goodness no one could read minds.
A man standing near Wendell, hands in his jeans pockets said,
This little ram came early.
He seems to be okay, Wendell replied. Then, as if Jon s
voice had registered at last, he pushed up. Jon! What are you
doing here?
Jon may have imagined the special glow on Wendell s face and
the excitement in his words because he was here, but for now he
wanted to think it was because it matched what was blooming in
his own chest at seeing Wendell. I thought I d take time to visit.
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We don t have any gigs at the moment.
Excuse my manners. Carlton Clay meet Jon Badd. Badd with
two ds. Jon and I grew up together. His band played at our high
school reunion in the fall.
Badd? Not Jon Badd of Boyz Gone Badd!
The same, Wendell said with pride. Carlton teaches at the
state university in Portland, but he has a special interest in sheep.
Jon extended his hand as dismay hit. This was the guy Wendell
was dating.
I m a huge fan of your music.
Thank you, Jon said as he shook a smooth hand that told a
tale of books, pens and paper rather than farming.
Carlton s especially interested in our Herdwick project.
Jon looked deep into Wendell s eyes, catching the kaleidoscope
of colors green, brown, mustard and gold reflected in the barn s
incandescent light. As am I, he said in a quiet, telling voice.
In the silence that followed, Carlton Clay must have sensed the
message, the feelings that passed between them, for he checked his
watch and excused himself with, Ooh, I need to be going. My
wife will worry if I m not in Portland territory by dark. Thanks,
Wendell. Nice to meet you, Jon.
Jon smiled, feeling lighthearted and happy enough to do so
now that he d figured there was nothing romantic between the two
men. Of course, some secret gays married, lived the lie of being
heterosexual, but he sensed this wasn t the case here. Nice to have
met you, too.
The house is open, Wendell said as he washed his hands at
the big sink in the barn, dried them and rubbed alcohol based gel
cleaner on them. I ll walk Carlton out.
They left talking about the birth of the lamb, and Jon took his
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belongings from the porch and entered the house. He stood near
the door for a moment and let all that was Wendell fill him the
smells, the colors, the warmth from the fireplace where logs
crackled as flames danced orange, red and blue.
He d put his bag and guitar near the couch and was standing by
the fire when Wendell came in and stood in the middle of the room
with his arms crossed.
Why are you here? His voice had lost all traces of his earlier
friendliness.
Jon tried to talk over the sudden awkwardness that had just
descended on his dream. He d imagined Wendell throwing his
arms around him and telling him how happy he was to see him.
Instead, a cold, distant man stood before him.
You& you wouldn t take my calls.
What was there to say, Jon?
Hello? How are you? How re things? How re the folks? The
usual things people in conversation say.
Wendell dropped his arms and put his hands in his pockets.
Relief trickled through Jon at this softening of attitude. He
spoke in a quiet tone. I wanted to know those things.
It was better for me if we cut it off clean. When we were
teenagers and you left, it took me a year to recover.
Oh, Wendell, no. I m so sorry. I didn t know. He wanted to
reach for him, to wrap his arms around him and make things right
again. But the situation was too tenuous and he didn t want to
drive him away.
You were into new challenges, so it wasn t surprising I
seldom heard from you. When you returned for the reunion, I knew
it was crazy to unlock my feelings for you again. Foolish of me to
let you into my home, into my bed, thinking I was a man now and
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it wouldn t hurt when you left again he turned his head away
but it did. It hurt like hell. I needed to go on with my life and not
wallow in loss.
I ve hurt, too. Sometimes I just wanted to hear the sound of
your voice.
Wendell looked up, his cheeks wet. I was afraid to hear yours,
afraid I d throw all this away and fly to New York to live with you.
In time, it would ruin what we had. You ll never know how hard
it s been not to call you.
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