Return to Cooter Crossing: Stories from Bennett Bay, #4

By Stephen del Mar

Aidan Quinn is having a good day, possibly the best day of his life, at least since moving to Dublin. He just received word that his degree committee approved his PhD and he's on his way home, with lamb chops, chard, and a bottle of wine. Time to celebrate in the little cottage he shares with his mentor and lover, Dr. David Stokes. But, something is wrong when he gets home. Dr. Stokes has found a new student to "mentor."

Like any good Irish-American lad, he gets drunk and heads home to his mother. He hopes to find himself and make plans for a new future in the quiet backwater town of Cooter Crossing. But, he forgot what it's like being part of a large family in an extremely small town. He gets off the plane in Tampa and finds his little sister is pregnant and won't tell anyone who the father is. His next two older brothers, Danny and Dillon, are keeping secrets, and the oldest, Rory, shows up with his son, Sean, expecting Aidan to help him navigate Sean's coming out. 

Just as Aidan thinks he's finally getting ahead of the family drama, and settling back into life in a small Florida village, someone shoots him. And people start dying. Will he find a way to put all the pieces back together? Will he find a new direction for his life? And, what really happened to Mrs. DeWitt's prize rooster? 

"Return to Cooter Crossing" is a contemporary southern family drama with strong characterization and set in Stephen del Mar's rich world of Bennett Bay and Big Cypress County, Florida. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bennett Bay Press
• Release date: May 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386595717

Book preview

Chapter I

Aidan swayed in the aisle of the plane. His life hung from his shoulders. A laptop case and a duffel bag full of clothes. Not much to show for twenty-eight years. The line of passengers moved. He looked at the row with his seat number. A plump, older woman in a dark blue and white nun’s habit smiled at him. He told his face to smile back. He wasn’t sure it worked. He was pissed. Pissed in the Irish way of being drunk off his ass and pissed in the American way, because he came home last night and found the man he loved shagging a pretty, blond boy in their bed.

David calmly explained, as he pounded the boy’s butt, that now that Aidan had his doctorate, it was time for him to move on. He needed to find his own way. He said, There’s a ticket back to Florida on the table with your bags. I’ll have Ian here pack up the rest of your belongings and have them shipped to your parents’ house. Each word was punctuated by the slapping of flesh and the grunts of joy from the boy. The kid, Ian, looked over at him and smiled.

Aidan felt his face grow hot. He knew he was glowing red as he turned and walked back into the cottage’s little kitchen. He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. He wanted to vomit. He stood next to their kitchen table. He loved that table. They’d bought it one afternoon when they went for a drive.

They’d only been in Ireland a few weeks and wanted to explore the countryside beyond Dublin and they found it in a small, village shop. The green-stained wood caught his attention and then he saw the inlaid tiles glazed with Celtic patterns. He unclenched his right hand and traced a never-ending knot with his finger. In his excitement to tell David about the decision of his degree committee, he’d missed the ticket on the table, along with his passport, and his bags on the floor. He picked up his passport. A young man full of love and promise looked back at him. That kid was off to Ireland to work with his lover and earn his PhD.

Aidan clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath. The mad urge to rip that photo up coursed through him. He wanted to destroy something. He could still hear them fucking in the bedroom. He should have closed the door.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear the smells of man-sex from his nose. It didn’t work. He looked around the kitchen. Tomorrow he would not stand at that stove making David his favorite omelet. Would the kid cook him breakfast? He looked at the wooden block bristling with knives next to the stove. Then jerked his gaze back to the table. He didn’t like the thoughts whispering to him from some dark place. He took another deep breath and picked up the ticket, one-way, Dublin to Tampa for tomorrow night. He glanced back at the knives.

Fuck me harder, Dr. Stokes, drifted from the bedroom. His bedroom.

Ten years ago he’d been the freshman in David’s bed. Twenty-four hours. He had twenty-four hours. He looked at the knives longer this time. His hands were sweaty—itchy. They wanted to grab something— to crush something. Would anyone miss them for a day? He shook his head. Fuck them. He put the ticket and his passport in the outer flap of his computer bag, picked up his duffel bag, and left his home.

Aidan stuffed his bags into the overhead bin and forced a smile at the nun. I think I have the window seat, he said.

She smiled and got up to let him slide in. He settled into his seat and looked out the window; nothing but a nondescript modern airport. Men in reflective vests drove little trucks pulling luggage wagons that snaked across the expanse of concrete. A cold winter rain moving in from the North Sea softened the orange glow of sodium-vapor lights.

Don’t worry, dear, flying is very safe. The woman reached across the empty seat between them and patted him on his arm.

I’m sorry. What?

She smiled again. That was becoming annoying. You seem a little distraught. Fear of flying?

He really didn’t want to be rude, especially to a nun, but he wanted to be left alone. Not particularly.

Her eyes narrowed. Oh, I just wondered because you look and smell like you slept on a pub floor.

Aha, the directness of nuns; no, he’d slept on a couch in a flat above the pub.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood on the street in front of their cottage. The home they’d made together. A cold and misty rain drifted around him. A soft night the locals would’ve called it. He started walking and found himself in front of the Shamrock, the corner pub. He went in to get out of the cold. Patrick, the owner, took one look at him and pushed him to a table in front of the fire. There had been a bowl of stew and a bottle of whiskey. About three hours ago, Patrick had shaken him awake. He was tangled up in a blanket on a couch.

Aidan, do you want to make that flight?

A little squeak came from deep inside him. I want to see my momma.

He expected ridicule for sounding like a child. Patrick just nodded and kissed him on his forehead. I will miss you, Aidan Quinn, but you need to be with your people. There’s a cab waiting for you. Go now.

Aidan looked at the nun. How long had she been waiting for an answer. Just a bad day, Sister.

Her dark eyes held his. Do you want to talk about it?

A flight attendant walked down the aisle closing the hatches on the overhead bins. The click, click, click reminded Aidan of the slap, slap, slap of David screwing the kid.

No, he said.

He looked up at the stewardess and asked for a bottle of water. He touched his shirt pocket. Patrick had handed him a pill before he pushed him out the pub’s front door.

Take this, he said, and you’ll wake up approaching the States. I don’t think sitting alone and brooding on a plane is what you need right now. There’s something to be said for oblivion.

He’d watched Dublin slide by the cab. He wasn’t ready to say good-bye to this city. He wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Ireland. He was still working out what it meant to be an Irish-American in Ireland. Generations ago his family had left because there was nothing to eat. How would he explain his departure? He pulled out his phone. He texted his sister. I’m coming home for Thanksgiving. Need ride from Tampa. He included his flight information. Then shut off his phone. He needed his family, but he wasn’t ready to talk to them. Not yet.

The stewardess came back and handed him a bottle of water.

The nun said, So you sound like you’re from the States. Are you from Tampa?

Aidan put the pill in his mouth. He hadn’t been to church since he was twelve and really didn’t believe in God anymore, but there was the thinnest strand of guilt in popping a pill in front of a nun. He took a mouth full of water and swallowed.

Cooter Crossing, he said.

She narrowed her eyes and frowned. I’ve never heard of it and what’s a cooter? Is that someone’s name?

Aidan tried a smile again. It felt more natural this time. Well, it’s a very small village up the Big Cypress River from Bennett Bay. A cooter’s a type of water turtle that spends most of its day basking on logs along the river banks. The town’s built where the Cooter Creek runs into the Big Cypress. There was a ferry boat crossing there ages ago. The settlement grew up around that.

She smiled. He found it somewhat less annoying. Oh, I know Bennett Bay. My nephew teaches at Sterling University. I hope to see him this trip. I’m going to visit my brother. He lives down in Sarasota.

That’s nice, Aidan said. He wondered how long till the pill brought on the promised oblivion.

She pulled a large handbag from between her feet, then started rummaging around in it. Aidan looked back out the window. How do you politely tell a nun to fuck off?

Here, this is my nephew, Marcus. She held a photo out to Aidan.

He took it. He didn’t expect to see two men on a beach holding each other in their arms. It was a photo of love. Men in love. He didn’t want to see it. Which one is he?

She beamed. The older one. Then she frowned. The other one is Paul.

He handed the photo back to her. Did he really need this now? So you don’t like him being with a man?

She bristled and looked him in the eye. I may be a nun, but I’m not medieval. He’s gay. He’s supposed to be with a man. I just wish he’d chosen better. That little tramp ran off with another man and devastated him. Still not over it from what my brother says.

I’m sorry. And he was. Was there a brotherhood of men who’d been jilted by other men?

Her eyes narrowed. So do you have a boyfriend?

He wondered if it was the alcohol he’d consumed in the terminal pub, or the pill kicking in, but he got the feeling the nun was trying to set him up with her nephew. And did he have an I’m Gay sign on him somewhere? Could nuns even have gaydar?

The stewardess started making the pre-flight announcements. He pulled the emergency procedures card from the pocket on the seat in front of him and feigned interest. He wasn’t ready to say the words, No I don’t have a boyfriend, because he still wanted to think he had a lover, a home and a career. Things started to get fuzzy. Maybe I’ll wake up and everything will be okay.

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Son, we’re going to land soon.

Oblivion dissolved around him. Aidan opened his eyes. His face was stuck to the small, airline pillow by dried drool. The nun gently shook his arm. He peeled the pillow from his face and pulled his glasses out of his shirt pocket. Everything was still blurry even with his glasses on. His head throbbed and his stomach churned. He eyed the vomit-bag in the seat pouch. The nun pushed something at him. She was holding a little plastic bottle of orange juice in one hand and a few tablets in the other.

She said, Take these.

Aidan was trying to wrap his mind around taking pills from a nun, but his brain wouldn’t wrap around anything at the moment. Why was he on a plane with a nun? Where am I? he asked. The plane banked to the left. He looked out the window. Florida? Tampa Bay stretched out before him. The Gulf beaches raced below them and Saint Pete zoomed by. They were over the Bay. He saw the causeways connecting the peninsula of Pinellas county with Tampa. The plane descended. The water coming up to meet them.

Take them, boy. It’s ibuprofen and vitamins. And you need the juice. Your blood sugar will be low. It will help with the hangover.

He held out his hand and the nun dropped the tablets into his palm. She opened the juice bottle and held it out to him. He popped the pills in his mouth and took the bottle and drank the juice. He wasn’t sure it’d stay down. The plane jolted as it landed. He looked out the window. Bright blue sky with white puffy clouds. Palm trees. I’m not in Dublin? He looked back at the nun. He touched the empty seat between them. He asked, Is David sitting here? Where is he?

She reached up and touched his face. Oh laddie. You talked in your sleep for a while. I didn’t mean to listen.

"What… what did I say?

Her eyes moistened. She looked away from him.

Aidan swallowed. Tell me, please.

She looked back at him. You found your David… She shook her head. I’m so sorry.

His stomach tightened. It wasn’t nausea this time. Tell me, he whispered.

She sighed. You found him…

In bed with someone else, he finished. He closed his eyes. He could smell the sex. He heard the moaning and slapping of flesh. The kid in his bed. He reached for the bag and held it to his mouth. Juice, bile and little tablets filled the plastic lined bag. Tears streamed down his face. He heard a dinging sound. He looked up. The stewardess made her way toward them.

May I help you? She smiled at them, then frowned when she saw Aidan with the bag. Do you need assistance, sir?

The nun said, Could we get two wet towels, dear?

Yes, Sister.

Aidan noticed the other passengers looking at him. He tried to ignore them by focusing on sealing the bag with the little wire tabs. He was alone now. What was he going to do?

Here you go, Sister. He looked up. The stewardess handed two towels to the nun. She reached out for the bag. Aidan handed it to her. She said, Do you need anything else?

He tried to smile. Just my dignity back. He knew his face was nearly as red as his hair.

She winked at him. A lot of people get airsick. That’s why we have the bags.

He nodded. She didn’t need to know what ailed him. The stewardess walked back to the front of the plane. They were pulling into the terminal and the passengers were getting jumpy. The nun handed him a towel.

Now, wipe your mouth.

He did. She took it from him and handed him the other one. Now your face and your eyes with this one.

The warm moistness felt good on his eyes. He stuffed the towel in the seat pocket.

Thanks.

She patted his hand. Then reached in her bag and pulled out a card and a pen. She lowered the tray table and started writing on the back of the card. She finished and handed it to him. That’s my nephew’s number. I’ll tell him about you. I think sharing a pint might do you both some good, but not too many mind you.

He looked down at the card. Marcus Murphy and a phone number. He turned it over. It was the Sister’s business card, Sister Mary Brigid Murphy.

Thank you, he said.

You have someone waiting for you?

He thought for a moment. I think I called my sister.

He pulled out his phone and turned it on. It started pinging. He had four voice mails and fifteen text messages. The voice messages were from his mother. His brothers and sister had texted him. One was from Patrick. Nothing from David. Pathetic, he thought. He opened the last text message from his sister. I’m on the parking garage roof. WTF?

He put the phone back in his pocket. Sister Mary Brigid reached out and took his hand again. Son, will you be okay?

He didn’t know what to say. What did a nun know of heartbreak and regret? I guess so. I mean break-ups happen all the time, right? Just a third of my life thrown away and my future screwed. Yeah… no job, no home. I’ll be okay. They say time heals, right? He bit down on the anger welling up. She’d been nothing but kind to him. He didn’t need to dump on her.

She nodded. It’s going to be raw for a while. You need to find healthy ways to let it out. Rage can be good for the soul, just be careful how you express it.

The plane came to a halt and the passengers jumped into the aisle and started emptying the overhead bins. He nodded at her. Thank you, Sister. You’ve been very kind.

She gave his had a little squeeze. I’ll say a prayer for you tonight.

He wanted to say, Don’t bother. Instead, he said, Thank you.

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Aidan looked out at the skyline of Tampa as the automated tram ran from the terminal to the main airport hub. He remembered enjoying the ride when he was a kid. He and his brothers would scramble to sit up in the front and pretend like they were driving. The tram arrived and the doors hissed open. He took the escalator down and walked over to the elevators to the parking garage. He pushed the button for the top level. The doors of the elevator parted and hot, humid air rushed in. He breathed in the tang of Tampa Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. Dublin had sea air too, and he loved walking along the waterfront, but the Irish Sea never smelled quite right. He was a child of black, river water and the Gulf. He could taste it, he was home.

He stepped out into the sun and looked around. He set his bags on the ground and took off his jacket. A car horn beeped three times, he looked west toward the Bay. His father’s old green pickup truck headed his way. He looked up at the clouds and tried to think of something to say. The truck stopped in front of him. He tossed his two bags in the back and then opened the passenger door. His sister smiled back at him. She was a Quinn through and through with pale white skin, red hair and bright-green eyes. She’d cut her hair short. Then he looked down…

Aidan? Aidan, are you okay? You look like you’re having a stroke.

Aidan stretched out his arm and pointed at her. Molly Mae Quinn, you’re with child!

She frowned. Oh well spotted. Now shut your mouth and get in the truck. Mother has a corned beef in the oven. And there’ll be hell to pay if she has to hold dinner.

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Aidan watched west central Florida roll past as the truck headed north from Tampa Bay. Strip malls became subdivisions and now grassy farmland with hammocks of live oak, cypress domes, and cow pastures. He couldn’t look at Molly. His worry about explaining himself had slid to the back of his mind. His baby sister was sitting next to him pregnant. Pregnant.

Molly reached out and turned off the radio. Aidan, she whispered, say something.

He shifted in the seat and turned to look at her. The image of her from ten years ago when he left home was so strong. An awkward, fourteen-year-old with long, red hair, freckles and green eyes. Eyes full of tears as her brother left for college. Now a young woman, very pregnant, sat behind the truck’s steering wheel. She glanced from the road to him. A tear ran down her cheek.

Say something. Please.

What the hell am I supposed to say? Why didn’t anyone tell me?

She pulled the truck over and made a right turn, taking the road that led to east Big Cypress County and their home. You were away…on a dig and working on your doctorate.

Bullshit! It was an urban dig in Dublin for God’s sake. Not the outer steps of Mongolia. I lived in a cottage with hot water, cable TV and high-speed internet. You know that. We’ve emailed, talked on the phone, and even video chatted, and you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me that your were getting married or pregnant? Don’t you think I’d like to know I’m gonna be an uncle?

I’m not married.

Not… married? Aidan looked out the window again. Everything looked normal, but it wasn’t. Cognitive dissonance, that’s what they called it. Things were out of whack. The world wasn’t right. He didn’t have David and Molly was pregnant. In the outside world, in the twenty-first century, a single mother was nothing to blink at. But, they weren’t from that world. They were heading for Cooter Crossing, a small village in the back waters of the Big Cypress River. A village made up of mostly Irish-Americans and stuck somewhere in the 1950s. That’s why he’d fled as fast as he could.

The father didn’t ask?

Not sure who the father is.

Aidan looked back at her. She was blushing bright red.

Fuck. Not very eloquent, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She laughed. Yeah, fuck. Well, there is a good thing.

What’s that?

Most folks are betting on Sonny Kent as the father.

Aidan shook his head, Most folks? He didn’t know what to do with that. He asked, Who’s he.

Nephew of Mable Kent.

Aidan thought for a moment. It was a small town and he did know most of the people or at least their families. Kent… no! You mean the old, black woman that plays the organ at the Congregational Church? She still alive? I didn’t know she had a nephew.

Yes. She’s still alive and ornery as ever— grand-nephew actually. He’s from New York.

Wait a second. You got knocked up by a black—Yankee-protestant? How is this a good thing?

I didn’t say it was him. We spent a lot of time together in the spring time when he was visiting. I just want you to know what folks are saying. When Uncle Jack heard, he said it would’ve been more respectable if I’d run off with a woman and turned queer like you. So you aren’t the black-sheep anymore.

Poor choice of words.

Yeah.

He tilted his head. Folks have been saying? What do you say?

She shook her head and didn’t say anything.

Damn that Quinn stubborn streak, he thought. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped… we could’ve done something.

She glanced at him again, defiance in her green eyes. He had an image of Boudicca standing on a dike, with red hair flowing in the wind, offering defiance to the Romans. Pity the Romans.

What, kill it?

He clenched his fist. Never. The child’s my blood too. But I could’ve gotten you out of here.

What, go to Ireland? How was I supposed to know that? And is it easy for an unwed, unemployed mother over there?

He shook his head. Well, no. But you still should have told me! Molly Mae, you can be thick and stubborn. I only hope the child takes after its father.

She said, Whoever that may be?

Well…so how long is the list?

Does it matter? she asked.

Well, I don’t know. But how?

She glanced over at him then back at the road. "What do you mean, how?"

It was Aidan’s turn to blush. I know Mom and Dad never talked about sex, but surely they talked about birth control and safe sex in school?

Abstinence. She spit the word.

What?

She shifted gears and made a left turn. We were told to wait until we got married.

He snorted. And you’ve never done what you were told.

Well, no. And if abstinence worked, there wouldn’t be seven billion people on the planet. She reached to turn the radio back on. So, are you disappointed with me?

I don’t know. But damn it, Sis, safe sex.

She laughed. Not very Catholic of you.

Really? You are using Church Doctrine for this?

I’m not stupid, she said. I use protection. Sometimes it doesn’t work. She reached out and grabbed his hand. I’m glad your home. But why? What happened?

Aidan looked away from her. Can’t a boy come home to see his family for Thanksgiving?

Aidan you haven’t been home in ten years and then you text that you will be on a flight the next night? Mother’s besides herself. She’s busting with joy to see her baby boy again and terrified that something is wrong… You’re not sick are you?

Sick?

She took a deep breath. I know it’s not in the news a lot anymore, but it’s still out there.

HIV? Really? I’m fine.

You don’t look fine.

He pulled down the sunshade and looked at himself in the vanity mirror. His hair was a shaggy mess. Three days of red stubble sprouted on his chin and his green eyes were shot with red. No wonder Sister Mary Brigid thought he slept on a pub floor. He flipped the visor back up. Pull into that gas station. I need to pee.

He went down the aisle stocked with a few personal care items. He grabbed a comb, some eye-drops and deodorant. He went to the counter and swiped his card. Thank God for plastic. All he had in his wallet was Euros. He walked back to the restroom. After he relieved himself, he washed his hands, and splashed cold water on his face. He wetted down his hair and ran the comb through it. He tilted back his head and squeezed some drops into his eyes. He un-tucked his shirt and rubbed some deodorant on his armpits. He looked back in the mirror. He still looked worn out, but hopefully he wouldn’t alarm his mother too much. He could just say it was a rough flight.

He got in the truck. He expected Molly to start it up and head back on the highway. She just sat there. She said, Aidan, why are you here?

He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to tell her, but he’d just lectured her about keeping secrets. He took a deep breath. My committee approved my dissertation. I’ll be getting my doctorate.

Her voice was flat. And?

And, I went home to tell David, to celebrate, and I find him in bed with a young guy. My bags were packed in the kitchen, along with the plane ticket, and my passport. He told me to get out.

He told you to get out? He had your bags packed?

Aidan nodded.

She started the truck. I’m so sorry.

Yeah, well… so am I.

She asked, Are you sure you want to be here? Everyone will be home. Might be kind of overwhelming.

Everyone? Aidan asked. Even Danny and Rory?

She nodded. Yeah. Danny’s not on the boats anymore. He’s a manager in the processing plant now. He says the money’s not quite as good, but he can have a home life.

Aidan shook his head. Home life? Danny? Does he even have a home?

He bought one of those tract houses over by Swan Landing.

Aidan sighed and looked out the window at a herd of cows. So Mother called everyone?

Molly said, Well, she was worried. Thought one of us might know what was up. I got the third degree.

Aidan turned the A/C fan up. He wasn’t used to the heat. Sorry, Sis. So Rory’s bringing the family down too?

Molly said, Now that’s got Mother worried too.

What? Why?

Well, we got a card from Mary that she couldn’t get away long enough from her job for the drive down from Atlanta and they’d spend the day at her sister’s house.

So what changed?

Molly shook her head. Don’t know. Mom called up there last night asking about you and saying you’d be coming in. And Rory called early this morning saying he was bringing Sean down. Just said he wanted to see his brother.

Aidan sighed. Yeah. That’s just about everyone. So how old is Sean now?

He’s going to be seventeen on New Year’s.

Aidan said, That’s right, the kid has a January first birthday. Great, a moody teenager in the house on top of everything else.

She glanced back at him. So what are you going to tell everyone?

He sighed. The truth I guess. I just need to find a way to sanitize it. They don’t need to know all the details. Just I got my degree and David and I broke-up. I’ll need to find a job and somewhere to live.

Wait. You’re not going back? What about that job at the museum? The National Museum, that was a big deal.

Well, yeah. Dr. David Stokes wasn’t just my degree supervisor, he’s on the museum’s board. I took the plane ticket as a termination notice.

Can he do that?

Apparently. He’s the current rock star of archaeology and can pretty much fuck and fuck over whoever he wants.

She reached out and squeezed his leg. I’m so sorry.

Yeah. So am I… so am I.

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Aidan tucked his tee-shirt into a pair of old jeans he found in his dresser. They were ten years old, but they still kind of fit. Good thing baggy clothes were the fashion when he was in high school. He looked in the mirror and sighed. A nap and a shower helped him look somewhat human.

Molly called from the bottom of the back stairway, Dinner time.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for it all. But what was he going to do? Stay in his old room for the rest of his life? Yes, his lover had dumped him. Yes, he had no work. Yes, he was a mess. Welcome home.

He went down the back stairway into the kitchen. It was a big, old country kitchen, built for the all-day job of cooking for a large Irish-Catholic family in the late 1800s. It was all white and gleaming. The east windows behind the breakfast nook darkened with the evening. His father, at the counter next to the stove, carved a massive corned-beef brisket. His mother spooned potatoes, carrots and cabbage from the roasting pan into serving dishes. She turned as he came into the room and smiled. The smile cut him. She looked older and he realized how much he’d missed her.

Hi, Momma.

All settled in, dear?

He ran his hand through his wet hair. Yeah. The shower brought me back to life.

He grabbed a biscuit from the bread basket and put some butter on it. His mother gave him a quick scowl. He grinned back. Where’s Molly?

They’re in the dining room. Danny drove in from town, just got here. The plant closed early for Thanksgiving.

Aidan asked, I didn’t see Dillon. Is he working at the store tonight?

She did didn’t say anything.

Mom?

His father spoke up. We don’t know where he is. Every time he gets a day off he goes out of town. He won’t say a word about it. Damn inconsiderate, if you ask me.

His mother put the roaster in the sink. Well, he promised he’d be here tomorrow.

Aidan said, I’m sure it will be fine. He kissed her on the cheek and pushed through the swinging door into the formal dining room. The long table was covered with a rust-colored tablecloth. Fresh, fall-colored mums sat on the table and his mother had put out her pumpkin and turkey salt and pepper shakers. Molly and Danny, his next older brother, sat at the table in close conversation.

Hi, Danny.

They stopped talking and looked over at him. Of all of his brothers, Danny looked the most like him. They, of course, all had the trademark red hair and green eyes of the Quinn family. But it was the smile that his grandmother always called The Devil’s own grin they shared. But now he looked older, more than just the three years that separated them. He was thinner. His skin was tight and ruddy from years working on the shrimp boats in the Gulf. Aidan felt self-conscious about how their lives turned out. Life in academia was nothing compared to life at sea. And whining about a bad break-up wasn’t going to impress anyone in this room.

Danny stood and his eyes caught Aidan’s. A twinkle and the little devil came alive. He smiled, came over, and hugged Aidan. He kissed him on his cheek. Welcome home, little brother. This is where you belong.

Danny held on, a little too long, a little too tight. When they stepped back, Aidan searched his brother’s face. Everything okay, Danny?

He reached up and mussed up Aidan’s hair. My little brother’s home, what could be wrong?

Their father backed through the kitchen door carrying the platter of corned beef. He held the door with his back as their mother carried in a tray with the vegetable dishes and the basket of biscuits.

She beamed at her children. Come on now. Help get this on the table. It’s getting cold. Danny, you can say the blessing tonight.

His brother didn’t say anything, which made Aidan glance up at him as he set the potatoes on the table. Danny had a blank look on his face. Then, he caught Aidan looking at him. He smiled. Happy to, Mother.

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Dinner was over and the dishes done. The family gathered in the family room in the back of the house. A light, winter rain had passed through with a cold front bringing a hint of chill to the Florida night. Angus lit a fire in the fireplace making the room quite cozy. Nola Mae passed around a tray of coffee. Molly, dear, take the yellow cup. I made that one thin for you. By thin she meant the coffee had no whiskey. Molly took the yellow one, leaned back in the easy chair, and put her feet up. She looked very uncomfortable. Aidan glanced around the room at his family. He saw Danny watching Molly. He couldn’t read his expression, but it wasn’t friendly.

Danny? Aidan whispered.

Danny shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and smiled at Aidan. He said, Mother says Rory’s bringing Sean down. It will be good to see the little lad again. How old was he the last time you saw him?

Aidan sat back and sipped his coffee. Ah, yes, his mother had thickened it up. He tried to remember his nephew. Well, it had to be the Fourth of July bar-b-que the summer I left for college. He must have been, what, six or seven? I remember him being a blur of orange hair, freckles and giggles. He seemed to chase that old dog everywhere.

Angus said, That was Missy. A fine dog. He looked over at his wife. Nola Mae, maybe we should get a new dog.

She sipped her coffee. We’ll see, dear.

Aidan smiled as he thought of the old dog. She’d stand guard on the ground below their tree-fort when his friends, Clark and Innes, would camp out. He wondered if the old fort was still out there. Maybe he’d take a walk in the woods later tonight.

He’s nearly seventeen and becoming quite a man. His mother got up and took a photo off the mantle. She came over and handed it to him. His eldest brother, Rory, beamed at his wife and son. Mary sent this in her Thanksgiving card. Said they wouldn’t be coming down this year, but something changed. As soon as we heard you were coming home, Rory called and said he was bringing Sean down. Have you talked to him?

Aidan handed the photo back to her. Well, we video chatted a few months back and exchanged a few emails. Nothing out of the ordinary that I know of.

She looked at him over the rim of her glasses. They all swore she had Jedi mind powers and could always find out what they were up to. Of course that never stopped them from trying to keep secrets, that was the duty of children after all. She pushed her glasses back up. Well, I know something’s up. I just hope everything’s okay. She looked at the photo again and shook her head. They look so happy, but you just can’t tell. Things are hard nowadays. Both parents having to work. Just not right.

Aidan caught his sister making a gagging motion behind their mother’s back and it was all he was worth not to break out laughing. A quick sip of coffee saved him. His mother handed him something else. What’s this?

I clipped it out of the paper. Thought it might interest you. Maybe you could get some work with them. It’s about digging up old things. That is what you do, right? Molly tells us you aren’t going back.

Aidan looked over at his sister. How much had she told everyone? He set his coffee down on the side table and sighed. His parents had always been supportive of his choice of archaeology, but they really didn’t understand it. He spent as much time explaining that he wasn’t Indiana Jones as he did trying to actually explain what he did. In the end, they all agreed that he dug up old stuff for universities and museums. Which, he had to admit, was what he did. He just had a hard time explaining why it took so many years of college and all of the tuition to just dig up old stuff. It was the understanding of the artifacts that was the key. No one ever got that.

He looked at the newspaper clipping. It was dated late summer. The headline read, Boys find Spanish Treasure on the Bank of Blackwater River. He scanned the article. Apparently, some kids playing along the river found some old Spanish gold coins. A professor at Sterling University in Bennett Bay dated them to the late 1500s and said they must be from a Spanish mission fort. County Commissioner Gregory Diamantis has requested that Professor Seabrook conduct research and wants to annex the land into the Jackson Point County Park. The land has been in the Gonzales family for five generations and Mr. Roberto Gonzales is disputing the claim as an attempt to take his land.

Aidan looked up from the clipping to his mother sitting on the sofa next to his father.

His father said, What do you think, Son?

I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. If they’d found them down at Swan Landing, in Bennett Bay, that’d make sense. The Cisneros family started the settlement there in the 1580s. Of course, they changed their family name to Swan when the English took over Florida, so Spanish relics there would make sense. And then there’s the Castillo in the Spanish Quarter of Bennett Bay. You’d expect to find a lot of artifacts there. But I don’t remember any official missions or settlements beyond the Bay.

But we are just up the river from the Bay, Danny said. Couldn’t some folks have settled there?

Well, for us it doesn’t seem far. But back then, the land journey would have been extremely difficult. Hell, they killed the missionaries down in Tampa Bay as soon as they got off the boat. Cisneros’ one saving grace was he didn’t have any priest with him; they’d died on the journey, and he had no interest in converting or enslaving the natives, a very rare thing back then. He was able to make relative peace with them and they pretty much left each other alone. And that meant not going up the river.

His father nodded. I don’t trust anything that Diamantis is up to. But old Roberto is worried. He says there’s something going on down by the lake and it doesn’t have anything to do with gold coins and a ghost.

Nola Mae crossed herself. Ghost?

He patted her knee. Oh, Mother, just old stories. You know there has always been talk of the woods around Lake Jackson being spooky or haunted. You know the stories about the Stark place. Just a bunch of malarkey, if you ask me. More like the drunken ravings of swamp rats with nothing better to do than spin yarns down at the Gator Tale.

He looked over at Aidan. Son, would you mind visiting Roberto? At the very least you’d be able to help him understand what that Professor is putting in all of those reports he keeps getting.

Sure, Dad. I’d be happy to.

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The screen door slapped closed as Aidan walked down the steps into the backyard. He looked into the eastern sky. The front had blown past and the sky was clearing and turning into a translucent gray-blue as the sun set behind him. The full moon came up behind the cypress trees down by the creek. The branches were bare for winter, the skeletal silhouettes bearded with Spanish Moss. He took a deep breath. Just enough of a fall chill to keep the skeeters at bay and make it a good night for walking. He loved walking at night. You could be alone in the darkness. Alone with your thoughts.

He headed down the slope of the yard, past his mother’s azalea bushes, toward the creek. The footpath that followed the little stream down to the river was still there. He followed it as it wound its way between the massive trunks of cypress trees, their knees sticking up from the swampy ground. He came to a branch in the path. I wonder if the tree-fort’s still there?

He took the left branch down to the water. The creek widened, forming a small pond with an island of three massive cypress trees in the center. The summer before they started high school his two best friends, Allen Clark and Innes Callahan, had claimed the island as their kingdom. They raided the village for scrap lumber, and built a narrow, plank bridge to the island and a platform between the three trees that became a kind of tree-house. It was their castle; they called it Camelot and the pond was their mote. Clark, of course, had been King Arthur, he’d been Lancelot and Innes was Gawain. They spent almost every night up in the fort telling scary stories, frying catfish on an old camp-stove, and just generally sneaking around in the dark. In the night, the village had belonged to them. Aidan sighed. The joys of being boys in the woods, carefree and, as his mother would say, up to no good.

The moon, a little higher now, silhouetted the tree-house. The planks on the bridge were gone. It looked like there’d been high water recently. The little creek could flood in heavy rain. He looked up, the fort was still there but looked rather decayed. Decay, he said into the night. He’d come back home to find a foundation to rebuild his life, but the foundation, the idea of home was as illusory as Camelot among the cypress trees. But then Lancelot always betrays Arthur and Camelot falls. The old stories never really end. They have a truth that gets repeated again and again. The metaphor was all mixed up in his head. Was he really Arthur and had David been his champion?

The three-hoot call of a horned owl pulled him back to the present. He turned and headed back to the main path and continued toward the river. He wanted a beer and for the first time in his life at the Crossing he was old enough to buy one. Tonight would be his debut at the Gator Tale. As Innes’ grand-dad always told everyone, the only authentic Irish pub on the Big Cypress River. To which Innes would always say, But it’s the only Irish pub on the river. Innes. Was he still here?

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Aidan came out of the woods at the end of Cypress Street which paralleled the river on the south side of town. The Gator Tale was at the intersection of Cypress and Main Street where the bridge ran across the Big Cypress River. The pub had been built at the site of the original ferry landing, long before the state road and its bridge were put in. Cooter Crossing had started out as a river town birthed during the lumber and railroad boom of the late 1800s. The lumber was mostly gone, the trains didn’t stop any more, and there hadn’t been a ferry crossing the river in nearly seventy years. Time flowed, but the town held on like an old cooter basking on a log.

The parking lot was about half full. The bar was built on pilings on the edge of the river bank to keep it above the inevitable summer floods. A screened patio ran around the west side of the building and steps in the back ran down to a floating dock. There were a few bass boats and an old, white houseboat tied up at the little marina.

Aidan heard the buzz of conversation from tables on the porch as he walked up the front steps. Someone whispered, Is that Quinn’s little boy? It was too dark for him to see who and he didn’t hear the response. He opened the front door and Irish folk music enveloped him. The pub had one big, open, main room. The bar itself ran along the back side. To the left was the small stage with the folk band. Booths lined the right wall and the rest of the room was filled with tables. Most of the people sat near the stage where a middle-aged woman with long black hair and a streak of gray sang something in Gaelic. He’d spent three years in Dublin and was never able to understand it. His family gave up the tongue over a hundred years ago and he had no talent for it. He walked over to the bar and sat on a stool. It was well-worn, but comfortable. Designed to keep you at the bar drinking no doubt.

The bartender asked, What would you like?

Aidan changed his mind from beer to whiskey and was about to say, Beamish, but the sight of the bartender took his breath away. The man had long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. He wore a green tank-top with the logo of the Gator Tale on it. He had a Saint Brigid’s Cross tattooed on his left arm. Aidan made out the outlines of a nipple ring under the shirt. Steel-blue eyes caught his.

Would you like something?

Innes?

Steel. Cold steel.

It’s me, Aidan.

Innes said, Yes. I know who you are.

He threw a bar towel over his shoulder, pulled two bottles of beer from a bin of ice behind the bar, and headed toward a large group of men sitting close to the stage. Innes handed the beers to two of the men and sat down next to an older, bear of a man. He kissed the man on the cheek and put his arm around him.

A young woman said, Sorry about that. What did you want?

Without turning around, he said, Beamish… with ice.

A glass with a jigger of amber liquid and an ice cube was pushed toward him. He turned around. The woman had fashionably short-cropped black hair and blue eyes that were as warm as Innes’ were cold.

Fiona?

She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. Sorry about my brother. He forgets his manners. I think maybe he was a little shocked to see you.

Aidan swirled the whiskey around in the glass and took a sip. Smooth. Close his eyes and he could be back in a pub in Dublin, but that wouldn’t really be any better. Thanks. That’s the good stuff. Surely he knew I was back? I expect I’m the talk of the town.

Well, there is the idea of a thing and then being suddenly confronted with it.

I don’t understand… what did I do? I haven’t seen him in ten years.

Her face reddened. She reached up and touched the small, silver cross hanging from a chain around her neck. Aidan Quinn. You cut your way through this village, breaking hearts right and left and then departed to have adventures in the great world. And you don’t even have the good graces to realize the longing you left behind.

Her eyes hardened. In all the time you were gone, did you even ask about the boys that loved you? Did you ever wonder or even care about what became of them?

For God’s sake. That was all ten years ago. I was an eighteen-year-old kid. I can’t be held responsible for that.

Do you know the difference between and boy and a man?

This was not going how he expected. I am sure you’ll tell me.

A man takes responsibility.

Aidan downed the rest of the whiskey and threw some bills on the bar. Thanks for the drink.

As he headed for the door, the woman on stage started to sing something about flowing black water. Dark water flowing to the sea. Flowing or floundering, Aidan felt caught up in a current sweeping him along. And he didn’t like it.

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Aidan stood on the landing outside the front door. He breathed in the cool night air. The sounds of the swamp at night mixed with the music from inside. Fiddles, insects, frogs, and the croak of a night heron. He shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from his visit home, but a pregnant sister and the accusation of being a callous heart-breaker wasn’t it.

Aidan? Aidan, is that you?

Someone stood behind the screen door to the porch. Aidan walked closer. All he could make out in the darkness was the form of a large man; a large, well-built man.

He wasn’t sure he was up for any more reunions. Yes. Who are you?

The screen door opened and a man stepped into the light. It’s me. Clark.

He reached up and pulled Aidan to him. Aidan smelled beer, cigarette smoke, and sweat. He put his hand behind Aidan’s head and stroked his hair. Clark pulled his head forward. Their heads tilted, lips touched, mouths parted and tongues danced. Aidan closed his eyes. He felt the strong arms around him. In his mind, he was lying naked next to another boy high in the trees, making love with the abandon of youth.

Clark breathed into his ear, I’ve been looking for you. He pulled Aidan back through the screened door, into the darkness of the empty porch. Clark pressed him against the wall and kissed him harder. He pulled back and simply said. Fuck me, Aidan.

Aidan frowned. He thought of David fucking the blond boy in their bed. He reached out and grabbed Clark’s shaggy blond hair. Yeah, I can fuck blond boys too. This was what he wanted; release, revenge, and distraction. He pulled Clark’s face back to his. They kissed again. Aidan pulled out of the kiss and growled in Clark’s ear, I want to fuck you so hard.

He took Aidan by the hand and held tight. He led him past the empty tables on the porch and out the back, down the steps to the docks. They boarded the old houseboat. Clark turned and playfully kissed him on the cheek. He felt like a boy again sneaking around at night looking for a place for a fast blow-job. Clark took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the sliding glass door that led to the main cabin. He stepped in and turned. Coming?

Is this your boat?

Yup. My hide-a-way. It was my granddaddy’s. He bought it when he worked for Cypress-Craft years ago. You might say it is my Camelot-a-go-go. A mobile fort.

Aidan laughed and stepped into the cabin. He turned to slide the door closed, but Clark reached out. Not yet. Long day at the mill. I need to rinse off. He stripped off his clothes and stepped back to the aft deck of the boat and then dove off the stern. He came sputtering to the surface. A black spot in the moon-lit water. Damn, that’s cold. Coming in?

Aidan pulled off his shirt, kicked out of his shoes and undid his pants. Hell yeah. The icy river water burned as he plunged in. It was dark under the surface, like swimming in ink. For an instant, he wasn’t sure which way was up. Panic seeped in. Then he relaxed and let his body float to the surface.

Clark laughed as he swam over. The men embraced and kissed. He said, We’d better get out before the gators find us. And we’d better get our dicks warm or we’ll be bumping pussies like lesbians.

Aidan giggled. Be nice. I seem to remember you were very good at dick warming. Clark swam back to the boat. And I’ve been practicing in the mean time.

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Aidan opened his eyes. There was a man in his arms. He breathed in the musky smell of lovemaking. Sunlight reflecting from the river danced on the ceiling of the cabin. The birds sang in the trees along the river. A car door slammed. A truck thump-thump-thumped as it crossed the bridge. He thought of David. Maybe things hadn’t been that good between them. Was he too busy to notice? Had it been time for him to go? Did relationships have expiration dates? There were footsteps on the dock. The boat listed and righted itself as someone boarded. A woman hollered, Allen Clark, you no good cock-sucker, you’re late for work again! You better just be drunk and not have some man in there with you. Robertson called from the mill, looking for you. The sliding glass doors slid open. Clark sat up in the bed. Angry footsteps came down the companionway. A woman with black hair and a pinched face fumed in the doorway.

Clark said, Fuck, and pulled the covers up over them.

If you can get to the mill by nine you may still have a job. However, you no longer have a marriage. I don’t want you near me or the kids. She turned and stormed off the boat.

Shit. Clark looked at the old clock next to the bed. And double shit.

Aidan sat up in the bed and leaned against the wall of the cabin, stunned. Who… Who was that?

Clark turned to him. Almost surprised that he was there. Fuck… Aidan. I got to go. He jumped out of bed and stood naked in the middle of the cabin. He ran his hand through his hair. He seemed to be lost. He staggered out onto the deck of the boat. Aidan heard a splash.

Damn. Aidan scrambled out of bed and pulled his boxers on. Clark was already climbing back on board by the time Aidan made it to the sliding glass doors. Clark pushed past him.

I gotta go. He ran around the main cabin of the boat looking for clothes. He pulled pants out of a basket and slipped into them. He grabbed a shirt from the back of the settee and put it on. In one hand he grabbed a pair of socks and in the other he grabbed his boots, then ran from the cabin and jumped from the boat to the dock. Aidan was alone in the cabin as the boat rocked back and forth. He stepped out onto the deck of the boat and stood there in nothing but his boxers. The bright light of day all around him. Clark’s old pickup tore out of the parking lot past a delivery truck with the logo for Swan Seafood painted on the side. Innes stood next to the truck with a young blond guy. They both looked at him.

Oh hell, Aidan said. He ducked back into the cabin and sat on the settee among Clark’s laundry. He’d just fucked a woman’s husband to get back at his own lover, an ex-lover that didn’t give a damn. He laid back and put his hand on his forehead. A wife and kids, what the hell, Clark?

Chapter II

Aidan stepped back out on the deck of the houseboat. He tucked his shirt in his pants and looked around. He didn’t see anyone this time. The parking lot of the Gator Tale was empty except for two cars. The seafood delivery truck was gone. Aidan stepped off the boat onto the dock and turned to get a good look at it. Camelot was painted in Old English script across the stern. The aft deck was set up as a little porch with a few lounge chairs, a BBQ and even a potted palm. There was a small walkway on the side of the cabin that gave access to a small deck area on the bow. There were steps leading to an upper deck and the flying bridge. The boat had the feel of an old lady that had gone downhill, yet still had the air about her that hinted she’d been something in her younger days. Aidan shook his head. So Clark still had a fort to hide away in and fuck boys.

He looked up the hill at the little town. He could see the top of his folk’s house. It was an old, three-story Queen Anne with a big turret and lots of gingerbread scalloping along the eaves. Damn, he thought, I really should have let someone know I was staying out all night. He walked off the dock and headed up the hill. The walk of shame, Cooter Crossing style.

It only took a few minutes to walk back to his folk’s house from the river. A county sheriff’s car sat in front of the house. Aidan started running. He saw an officer standing by the front steps talking to his sister. He was a young, black man with short-cropped hair and a broad smile. He had the solid build of a football player, like a darker version of Clark.

Aidan panted. He wasn’t in bad shape, but he wasn’t used to running up hills. Is everything okay? He paused for a breath. Mom and Dad? Oh my God, is the baby okay?

Molly looked him up and down then said, Aidan James Quinn, you are a self-centered ass. She tried what was no doubt meant to be a dramatic exit, but the effect was ruined by the fact she could hardly get up the steps.

Aidan said, Do you need help?

Not by the likes of you.

She put her hand out to the deputy and he kind of lifted and pulled her to the porch. Without looking back, she straightened herself and walked into the house.

The men stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Finally, the deputy cleared his throat, Aha, well, you seem fine. I’ll be moving on.

What happened?

Your mother was concerned. You didn’t come home and you left your phone here. You were seen drinking down at the Gator Tale last night. She was worried that you might have fallen in the river.

You’ve got to be kidding me?

Well, Aidan, it’s a small town. Most folks make it home unless something’s amiss.

Aidan studied the deputy’s face. There was something familiar about him. And he used his name like he knew him. Yeah, well I ran into an old friend. Kind of lost track of time.

Old friend? Allen Clark?

How’d you know?

The other man grinned. It is a small town and Innes called the house this morning. Said he saw you on Clark’s boat.

Aidan felt his face flush. And how is that any one’s business?

Who you hook-up with? No one’s. Disrespecting your family and worrying your mother, well, that’s for you to decide. He walked down the steps heading for his cruiser, then stopped and turned. "I understand you went through a bad breakup. I’m sorry about that. And I know you were close to Clark when you were in school. But the years haven’t been good to him. Bad things happened and he