Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela by Felicia Watson
Authors: Felicia Watson
Tags: Romance, Gay, Contemporary, M/M romance, Novel, glbt, dreamspinner press, paperback, felicia watson
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hospital
asked if I needed help, and I said I sure did. She got me in touch with
ACC, and two weeks later, me and the kids all got away.‖
38
Felicia Watson
Luckily for Logan, Cheryl showed no inclination for sharing her
story, so the rest of the class was mainly filled with chatter about which
was worse, Norah‘s job with Merry Maids or Tish‘s current stint at
Applebee‘s.
While the women washed up and gathered their things, Nick
uncovered the vintage Thunderbird that fascinated him so. That past
week, he‘d even called Dave Acken to inquire about the car, so he now
knew that Dave was willing to let it go as is for a mere eight thousand
dollars. Of course, that was eight thousand more than Nick could
afford, but he was still tempted. Something in the car called to him, and
it wasn‘t just because he had wanted one so badly back in high school.
Nick was sure that beneath that rusted body and corroded engine, a
thing of beauty waited to be renewed and released.
―You thinkin‘ of buyin‘ it?‖ Lost in his reverie, Nick hadn‘t even
heard Logan walk up beside him.
―Yeah, how did you know?‖
Logan just shook his head and shrugged, mumbling, ―Just a
feelin‘.‖
―Not sure it‘s a good idea; it‘d take a lot of work to restore it, I
guess.‖
―You bet. More ‘an you even think right now.‖
―You ever done anything like that?‖
Storm clouds gathered in Logan‘s eyes as he answered, ―Yeah.
Long time back.‖
Nick had no intention of asking, but he knew with an inexplicable
but ironclad certainty that buried underneath those four simple syllables
lay a heartbreaking memory for Crane. The man was an enigma for
sure; that was why Nick couldn‘t help thinking about him all the way
back to ACC. That was the explanation Nick gave himself, at least.
Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela
39
Chapter 4:
Bridges to Cross
The hardest thing in life is to know which bridges to cross and which to
burn.
—David Russell
EARLY on Saturday evening, Nick stirred together a quick barbeque
sauce and dumped in a pound of Isaly‘s chip-chopped ham. It wasn‘t
the healthiest meal he could have prepared, but it had been on the table
a lot when he was a kid, since his mom was inordinately fond of the
cheap and easy local specialty. Agnes had eaten little of the chef‘s salad
he‘d picked up for lunch; therefore, Nick was hoping an old favorite
would tempt her flagging appetite.
As he set the table, Nick was torn between having dinner with his
mother and going for a long run. He could go later, but he hated
running right after a meal, just as his mom hated eating after six p.m.
The August evening had cooled a bit, making it especially tempting;
the recent streak of sizzling weather had by and large confined him to
the use of his rickety treadmill in the basement. Musing that Agnes
seemed pretty ―with it‖ and that a hectic week had left him in dire need
of the Zen found in an extended run, Nick decided one dinner alone
wouldn‘t hurt his mom.
―Hey, Mom,‖ he called up to where she was puttering around in
her room. ―Are you ready to eat?‖
When she appeared a few minutes later, he showed her the pan of
liberally sauced meat. ―I‘ll get you set up, and then I‘m gonna go for a
run. ‘Kay?‖
Agnes shooed him out of the kitchen, briefly assuming the role of
the mother she still was, despite everything. ―Go and have your run; I
can do the rest. Buns‘re in the cupboard, right?‖
40
Felicia Watson
Nick gratefully took off, heading up Matson Boulevard until he
could cut over into Riverview Park, where he spent some carefree time
racing up and down the hilly trails. Drenched with sweat and feeling
pleasantly exhausted, he arrived home well over an hour later. He could
see the light on in the kitchen at the back of the house and hoped his
mom wasn‘t still toying with her food.
Nick popped his head into the room, saying, ―Mom,
asked if I needed help, and I said I sure did. She got me in touch with
ACC, and two weeks later, me and the kids all got away.‖
38
Felicia Watson
Luckily for Logan, Cheryl showed no inclination for sharing her
story, so the rest of the class was mainly filled with chatter about which
was worse, Norah‘s job with Merry Maids or Tish‘s current stint at
Applebee‘s.
While the women washed up and gathered their things, Nick
uncovered the vintage Thunderbird that fascinated him so. That past
week, he‘d even called Dave Acken to inquire about the car, so he now
knew that Dave was willing to let it go as is for a mere eight thousand
dollars. Of course, that was eight thousand more than Nick could
afford, but he was still tempted. Something in the car called to him, and
it wasn‘t just because he had wanted one so badly back in high school.
Nick was sure that beneath that rusted body and corroded engine, a
thing of beauty waited to be renewed and released.
―You thinkin‘ of buyin‘ it?‖ Lost in his reverie, Nick hadn‘t even
heard Logan walk up beside him.
―Yeah, how did you know?‖
Logan just shook his head and shrugged, mumbling, ―Just a
feelin‘.‖
―Not sure it‘s a good idea; it‘d take a lot of work to restore it, I
guess.‖
―You bet. More ‘an you even think right now.‖
―You ever done anything like that?‖
Storm clouds gathered in Logan‘s eyes as he answered, ―Yeah.
Long time back.‖
Nick had no intention of asking, but he knew with an inexplicable
but ironclad certainty that buried underneath those four simple syllables
lay a heartbreaking memory for Crane. The man was an enigma for
sure; that was why Nick couldn‘t help thinking about him all the way
back to ACC. That was the explanation Nick gave himself, at least.
Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela
39
Chapter 4:
Bridges to Cross
The hardest thing in life is to know which bridges to cross and which to
burn.
—David Russell
EARLY on Saturday evening, Nick stirred together a quick barbeque
sauce and dumped in a pound of Isaly‘s chip-chopped ham. It wasn‘t
the healthiest meal he could have prepared, but it had been on the table
a lot when he was a kid, since his mom was inordinately fond of the
cheap and easy local specialty. Agnes had eaten little of the chef‘s salad
he‘d picked up for lunch; therefore, Nick was hoping an old favorite
would tempt her flagging appetite.
As he set the table, Nick was torn between having dinner with his
mother and going for a long run. He could go later, but he hated
running right after a meal, just as his mom hated eating after six p.m.
The August evening had cooled a bit, making it especially tempting;
the recent streak of sizzling weather had by and large confined him to
the use of his rickety treadmill in the basement. Musing that Agnes
seemed pretty ―with it‖ and that a hectic week had left him in dire need
of the Zen found in an extended run, Nick decided one dinner alone
wouldn‘t hurt his mom.
―Hey, Mom,‖ he called up to where she was puttering around in
her room. ―Are you ready to eat?‖
When she appeared a few minutes later, he showed her the pan of
liberally sauced meat. ―I‘ll get you set up, and then I‘m gonna go for a
run. ‘Kay?‖
Agnes shooed him out of the kitchen, briefly assuming the role of
the mother she still was, despite everything. ―Go and have your run; I
can do the rest. Buns‘re in the cupboard, right?‖
40
Felicia Watson
Nick gratefully took off, heading up Matson Boulevard until he
could cut over into Riverview Park, where he spent some carefree time
racing up and down the hilly trails. Drenched with sweat and feeling
pleasantly exhausted, he arrived home well over an hour later. He could
see the light on in the kitchen at the back of the house and hoped his
mom wasn‘t still toying with her food.
Nick popped his head into the room, saying, ―Mom,
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