“No, not always. We did in the beginning, but not as we got older. I had a key, though, and I’ll admit I took some things when I found out we lost him—but only things that were memories between us or that would have given away his sexuality. Maybe that was wrong of me, and if so, I apologize. It likely wasn’t my place, but…”
“But you wanted to protect his secret,” Deacon said. “You didn’t want him to be outed against his will, and you didn’t want to risk changing how his sister or family might feel about him after his death.”
Grady sucked in a sharp breath. Deacon got it…got him. He understood. “Exactly. My concern was always with him and shielding him, even after death. It seems that wouldn’t have been an issue, but I didn’t know. I robbed Patricia of knowing her brother’s truth.”
“No.” Deacon shook his head. “You didn’t. She had her speculations already, though I don’t know how. I never did. No one else I know did, except her, and hell…finding out after he was gone… It might have hurt her more than just losing him. She would have been broken-hearted that he hadn’t shared it with her. They both passed away knowing how much they were loved by the other. That’s all that matters in the end.”
Grady hoped Deacon was right. It was such a mess, and in some ways he’d ended up telling Deacon anyway, but then, he hadn’t, really. Deacon had just known. “Thank you.” Grady took another bite and chased it with some water. “How did you get into making ice cream?”
Deacon grinned, then launched into a story about cooking and baking with his grandma most of his life and how he fell in love with desserts. “Ice cream was always my favorite. We made it at home together, but just your everyday chocolate, vanilla, and such. I was an electrician. Even though I loved food, it wasn’t something I considered a career at first. I come from a blue-collar, work-with-your-hands kinda family, so again, it just wasn’t something I considered. Patricia was a teacher. I’m sure Nathan told you that. She loved what she did, and damn, she was good at it. But I didn’t. It was just a job. Ever since I was a kid, Granny and I cooked together using her mother’s cookbook. I saw a recipe for peach cobbler once. Don’t know what made me think about it, really, but I decided to make it into ice cream. Just kept doing it, using her desserts to make new flavors. It went that way for years. The family loved it. News traveled, and people would ask me to make it for birthday parties and such.”
He paused, took a drink, then continued. “It was Patricia who said I should open my own place. Told her she was crazy.” Deacon chuckled. “Running an ice cream parlor? How the hell would I make any money doing that? But I like it. Probably sounds crazy, but it brings me joy.”
“It doesn’t sound crazy at all. Who doesn’t want to make people happy?”
Deacon nodded. “I liked the idea more than I let on at first. Got more and more excited about it, and Patricia kept pushing, and then for my birthday, she took a lease out on my first building.” He smiled, clearly nostalgic. “Said I couldn’t let it go to waste, so then I had no choice. Kicked my ass in gear. She knew I wouldn’t throw money away like that, so I got going on flavors, looked up what I had to do to start a business, and it went from there. She was always good at pushing me to take risks, to do things I wouldn’t normally do.”
“It’s cool hearing about her from you. Nathan told me so much over the years that it almost felt like I knew her.”
“It’s cool talking about her to someone who didn’t really know her. Don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s just you and the connection to Nathan.” Deacon’s eyes darted away, as if he was embarrassed by what he said.
“Makes sense to me.”
They looked at each other and smiled before Deacon cleared this throat and began eating again. “You’re working with Roe—that the kinda work you’ve always done?”
“I’ve done a whole lot of construction in my life. It’s what my family did. I worked on farms too, did some customer service; and the army, of course. Done a bit of everything. Haven’t really found my place in the world, especially after losing Nathan.”
“I hear ya. I’ve always known mine, but now it’s almost like I lost it… Fuck, I don’t normally talk like this. Got all twisted up discussing Nathan and Patricia, I guess. Think you’ll stick around?”
That was a tough question to answer. He hadn’t intended for each move to be temporary, but somehow they ended up that way. “Hope to. Just trying to find the place that feels right, ya know? That feels like home. I like it here so far, though. Monroe is great. Holden too. I like the work. But it’s only part-time, so if I do stay, eventually I’ll have to find something else. Found a small house that was willing to do month to month if I paid a little more for rent.”
They continued to eat, but didn’t talk about Patricia or Nathan anymore. He admitted he’d never tasted Deacon’s ice cream, and Deacon told him he should come down. They discussed sports and Covington Acres.
“I looked it up. Craziest shit I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe people want to paint, exercise, carve pumpkins, watch movies, and have s’mores with goats.” Grady laughed.
“It’s real popular. I have a small portable freezer and take it to the farm sometimes for movies in the late spring and summer.”
When the waitress took their bowls and asked if they wanted refills of their coffee, Grady looked at Deacon.
“I’ll take another cup,” Deacon replied, so Grady did too.
They talked about Grady’s four years in the army, and where he was from, then the North Carolina weather. “I know it’s crazy, but I love the rain,” Grady told him. “Nothing like sitting outside and listening to a storm, especially in the summer.”
“Are you kidding? That doesn’t sound crazy. I do the same thing. I got a screened-in porch, and I go out there.”
“Look at you, liking what I like. Stop copying me,” Grady teased, and thankfully, Deacon chuckled. Since they didn’t really know each other and had met under painful circumstances, he worried it wasn’t the right time to joke around.
“I have a feeling I’m older than you, so seems like you’d be the one copying me,” Deacon replied.
“Thirty-eight,” Grady told him.
“Got ya beat by two years.”
When their coffees were finished, Deacon stuck to water and Grady ordered a sweet tea.
“You’re one of those, huh?” Deacon asked.
“And what’s that?”
“Sweet-tea drinkers. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only person in the South who doesn’t drink it.”
Grady laughed. “It’s good, so that clearly means something’s wrong with you.”
“Heard that before.”
From there the conversation continued to foods they liked and didn’t like, and on and on. Before Grady realized it, they’d been talking for three hours.
“I should probably head out,” Deacon said. “Didn’t mean to keep you this long.”
“No, no. I’m the one who’s interrupted your life. I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me. It’s, um…been a long time since I’ve just sat around and enjoyed someone’s company so much.” Grady wasn’t sure Deacon knew it, but a small frown curled the edges of his lips. Shit. Should he not have said that? He couldn’t help that it was how he felt.