“I wish it was that easy. I know how to turn off my head,” Devon quipped.
His dad stepped closer. “Don’t you even think about it, not for a second. When you were drinking, I never stopped worrying about you.” His eyes were hard as stone. “Am I proud of your work and what you did? Sure I am. But if you never painted again but you stayed sober, I’d be just as proud of you if you decided to collect garbage. Quitting drinking took more courage and determination than anything else you ever did in your life, and I don’t want you to go back to that. Don’t even think about it.”
Devon swallowed hard. Jesus. His father had never talked to him like that. “You’re proud of me?”
He pulled him into a hug. “I have always been proud of you. Devon, you have a gift that I can never dream of. You see the world differently from the rest of us. So just paint what you see and what makes your heart happy. It will be stunning.” He released him and breathed heavily. “Now, let’s go before we’re late.” This time his dad made it all the way back to the house.
Devon followed. There was no use fighting him, and maybe he was right. Maybe if Devon let things go for a while, his mind would settle and he’d know what he needed to do.
Inside, Devon took a shower and changed into something other than jeans. Once Dad was ready, Devon drove them around to the small church just down the main highway. It was where everyone went and was sort of nondenominational, which worked for Devon.
He helped his dad inside and into a seat on a bench in the vestibule. Devon worried that he was already tiring, but once he sat down and the kids and half the people all came over to talk to him, he perked right up and was all smiles. Maybe what he needed was to be out with people rather than sitting inside most of the day.
“Morning, Devon,” Enrique said from behind him.
Devon didn’t need to look to know it was him. His heart beat a little faster, and even in the cool room, a light sweat broke out on the back of his neck as Enrique’s heady scent reached his nose. Devon slowly turned to face him.
“I have everything ready for our afternoon out.”
Devon nodded. “I think it’s going to be a great day. Dad is looking forward to it.”
Whispers from nearby caught his attention. Devon had forgotten the kind of microscope he would be under here. He turned as a group of ladies broke up not ten feet from him, Mrs. Fitz one of them, guiding Rita to her seat. “What is that about?” Devon asked as another group of men, a few of them glaring in their direction, eventually moved away.
Enrique shrugged. “Who knows? People like to talk. There isn’t much else to do, so they talk and talk.”
The organ started, and as a general group, everyone slowly moved into the sanctuary and sat down in pews that had been in use for over fifty years. Devon’s father told him that when the town decided they needed a church, everyone got together, arranged for the materials, drew up plans, and built the building as a community. His dad’s name was on the founders’ plaque in the vestibule because he worked on it as a kid with his father. He and his dad went down to the same pew he had sat in his entire childhood. Devon went in first and then his dad, with Enrique sitting next to the aisle.
Everyone talked quietly, and Devon forced himself to keep his eyes forward as whispers continued behind him. “Maybe this was a bad idea,” he told his dad.
“They have to talk about something, and you’ve been away for a long time. Your coming back is news. Just go with it.”
The music grew louder, the talking softer, and the service began. Devon couldn’t ever remember being so happy to listen to a minister for the next hour.
“DEVON,” MRS. Fitz said once the service was over. She gave him a hug, as did a large number of other people. “How are you settling in? You know you can come over any time to visit.” She patted his shoulder, and Rita hugged him as well. Then she followed Mrs. Fitz out.
“How are you holding up?” Craig asked, with his boys right next to him. “Has the busybody express driven you out of your mind yet?” He smiled, and Devon was grateful to him. “I’m taking the boys fishing next Thursday, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with us. You too, Enrique. We have plenty of room.”
“Thank you,” they both answered at the same time.
“I understand you’re giving an art class on Tuesday,” Craig said. “God, you’re braver than I thought.”
“Huh?” Devon asked. What the hell was all this about? “The class is filled.” He didn’t know what could be the danger. At least that’s what Enrique had emailed to him.
“Yes. And all those ladies are the ones who filled it.” Craig patted him on the shoulder. “Better you than me, dude.”
“I don’t get what all this gossip is about,” Devon said a little loudly, making sure the others could hear, and sure enough, he got a few sheepish looks and they turned away and left the church.
“Nicely done,” Craig told him and stepped outside. “Come on, boys, we need to get home for lunch. Say goodbye to Mr. Devon.” Devon remembered that smile and was relieved that it didn’t make his belly flip the way it used to.
“Bye,” they both said, with the younger one hurrying over to give Devon a hug. “Can I take art class too?”
“Of course you can,” Devon said. “You can come over sometime and you and I can have art class together.” He seemed so earnest, and Devon wasn’t going to turn him down. “You and your brother can both come if you want.”
“Thank you.”
“Come on, Joey. We need to get home. You too, Billy. Get in the van.” Craig smiled, and they left the church.
Devon watched him go.
“We should leave too,” his dad said. “I want to change my clothes and get another jacket before we set out.” He went right to the truck, climbed in, and lowered the window.
Devon turned as Craig pulled out of the parking lot.
“What is it with you and him?” Enrique asked.
“Craig and I are friends,” Devon answered absently, wondering exactly how he felt. So much of his reclusion had been wrapped up in Craig and Enrique, and now he was spending time with the latter and felt almost nothing other than friendship for the former. He wondered why he’d stayed away in the first place and exactly what he’d been missing.
“There is more,” Enrique said, and Devon turned to look into his eyes, stepping back at the clear understanding he saw in them. Devon wanted to cover himself, feeling naked and exposed for a few seconds.
“Maybe,” Devon allowed himself to say. “I should get Dad back to the house. Do you want to meet us and we can leave from there?” He needed to change the subject and was suddenly jittery about spending an entire afternoon with Enrique, with only his father as a buffer.
Enrique nodded but said nothing more, then strode out to his truck. Devon followed him with his gaze, wishing he hadn’t when he realized the old men he had seen inside were watching him. He didn’t know who they were, which was strange. He climbed into the rental truck and drove his dad back to the house.
“You need to take this thing back to Anchorage soon. You can drive my truck. It will save you money.”