Hawthorne Manor

By Bryan T. Clark

Mikael Ferreira seems to have it all—a great career, looks, intelligence, and charm to boot. But his work as a full-time caregiver at Hawthorne Manor barely leaves him time to breathe, let alone date. Then a new employee arrives at the manor and makes Mikael question whether he’s been living at all or merely existing...

Elliot Olsson is Mikael’s polar opposite. Elliot’s autism has always made him feel isolated. Until now. Mikael truly sees Elliot in a way no one ever has. Elliot wants to open his heart to Mikael and connect with him on a deeper level. But wanting won’t make it any easier to overcome the obstacles Elliot knows they’ll face as a couple...

As Mikael and Elliot’s story is beginning, eighty-eight-year-old Walter Hawthorne’s is coming to an end. But while his health is failing, Walter’s mind is sharp as ever—and he has a thing or two to share about life, intimacy, and love with the two young men who seem to know nothing about any of it . . .

Hawthorne Manor, a contemporary LGBTQ+ romantic novel, is an exploration of the foibles of aging, friendship, love, and the beauty that can exist in a found family. It features a house full of eccentric characters, witty banter, and a deeply emotional M/M romance. HEA guaranteed. Download today, and enter Hawthorne Manor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryan T. Clark
• Release date: May 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215138519

Bryan T. Clark

Bryan T. Clark is a Bestselling 2X Lambda Literary finalist and Rainbow Award winning author of gay romance, and contemporary books. He is also is a funny, loving, family oriented, and proud member of the LGBTQ community. Behind his computer working on his next novel, Bryan writes Male/Male Romance with an emphasis on moral dilemma. His multicultural characters and riveting plots embody real life, filled with challenges, personal growth, and, of course, what we all desire—love.When Bryan isn’t writing, he enjoys traveling, lying by a body of water soaking up the sun, and watching a good movie while snuggled up with his husband and loyal companion (Nettie the Sheepadoodle) on the couch. Born in Boston, Massachusetts, Bryan has made his home and life in the Central Valley of California

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Dedication:

Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) is a subject close to my heart. ASD is a developmental disorder and can occur in all ethnic, racial, and socioeconomic groups. Autism is generally characterized by difficulties with social interaction, communicating, and/or repetitive behaviors. Those difficulties for someone on the spectrum can range from mild to severe. If you know one person with ASD, then you only know one person with ASD.

ASD has personally touched my family. ASD has taught me that patience, empathy, and possessing an understanding of how to help a person with autism in their day-to-day life can make a real difference in their quality of life.

To my niece and nephew with ASD, I dedicate this book to you. You’re amazing adults surviving in a world that sometimes doesn’t understand you. It is my goal to help raise awareness, understanding, and acceptance of people with ASD. The world is your oyster, and I am ever so proud of both of you.

~Uncle Bryan



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In Memory of Lee Halkias

No more chemo.

No more radiation.

No more pain.

On May 28, 2022, the sun set on an amazing life.

R.I.P. my dear friend

1

Within the first two hours of Elliot Olsson’s shift at the manor, he relished the solitude the small supply room in the house afforded him. He wasn’t exactly hiding in the supply room; after all, one of the duties of his new job was to fold the linens and return them to the supply room. But with his anxiety at a seven, he questioned if this was the job for him. He needed a few minutes to calm himself.

At his job interview three days ago, Ms. Martin, the lady who’d hired him, had described coming to work in the three-story 1920s Hawthorne Manor as rewarding. As a houseman, his duties would be to ensure the house ran smoothly and was kept orderly. She’d said he would primarily work with the housekeeper and gardener, assisting them in their important daily duties.

So far, the job had been nowhere near as rewarding as she had described. Yesterday, he’d vacuumed fancy rugs, dusted figurines, cleaned bathrooms, and fetched anything that Shirley, the main housekeeper, had needed. The mansion took up a half block in the prestigious San Francisco neighborhood known as Pacific Heights.

There was nothing hard about the job. On the contrary, it was actually boring at times. Before and after work, and on their breaks, the house staff sat in the large kitchen around the table and played on their phones, ate, and gossiped.

From the supply room, Elliot could hear the boisterous voices coming from the kitchen as the staff laughed and sang Happy Birthday to Mikael.

With Elliot’s back to the door, he was startled when a voice suddenly came out of nowhere.

Hey, you’re the new guy, right? The guy popped his head into the supply room. We just cut my cake. Don’t you want some?

Elliot’s heart dropped into his gut, seeing that it was Mikael—the guy he’d secretly been crushing on since they were in high school.

Mikael’s brows above his almond-shaped eyes narrowed as he pointed a finger at Elliot. Hey… do I know you? He extended his hand to shake. I’m Mikael.

Mikael’s green eyes were mesmerizing. Elliot struggled to breathe as he tapped his wrist several times—his way of easing anxiety and focusing his concentration.

The guy with the dramatic widow’s peak and pearly white teeth was the one and only beautiful Mikael Ferreira—captain of the high school lacrosse team and one of the best catchers on the school’s baseball team in years. There was no mistaking Mikael; he was only the most popular guy back when they were in high school.

At six four, Elliot was still taller than Mikael, but Mikael was as beautiful as the last time Elliot had seen him. With Mikael’s dark brown hair, those eyes, and sun-drenched olive complexion, he could easily pass for one of the genetically handsome grandkids in the legendary Kennedy dynasty.

Thanks to a great memory, Elliot vividly recalled the first time Mikael had spoken to him. It’d been in fourth grade. Elliot had been playing by himself with one of his plastic dinosaurs when Billy Thorsten had taken it from him. Being bullied during recess had been a common thing for Elliot. They used to tease him, calling him Mute-boy back then. He didn’t understand why they’d called him that since he could talk. He’d just chosen not to. As much as he loved that dinosaur, Billy Thorsten was as big as a bear—and just as mean. Elliot had known his favorite dinosaur now belonged to Big Bear Billy. That had been true until Mikael had appeared out of nowhere and ordered Billy to give it back. That had been the first time anyone had ever stuck up for him.

Since that day, Mikael had spoken to him exactly seven times. Elliot recalled each of those times as vividly as the first. Now, as if a pair of hands were tightly wrapped around his throat, Elliot couldn’t muster a single word. As panic began to set in, his anxiety went from a seven to a solid ten as he struggled to breathe. I have to answer! he said to himself as he remembered what his therapist had said when he told her about his new job. She had reminded him to answer people when they spoke to him. I have to keep this job!

Elliot closed his eyes and began repeating the mantra he’d been taught to help him gain his voice when stressed. Being on the spectrum, he’d always been terrible at picking up on social clues and struggled with simple conversation. When he relaxed around a person, he was most likely to be abrupt and say something inappropriate. The exact opposite happened when he was stressed. It was as if his brain powered down, making it nearly impossible to think or speak. All those feelings and responses were tightly interwoven and happened in a matter of seconds, which was painful.

He focused on his breathing. One, two, three, speak— nothing came out.

He looked at his wrist as he tapped several more times. Focus on your breathing! Elliot slammed his eyes closed again. He repeated his mantra and kept tapping. One, two, three, speak —I… I… His voice was hoarse. I’m… Elliot. He opened his eyes and found Mikael staring at him.

Elliot…? We went to school together, didn’t we? Mikael flashed his boy-next-door smile as the greens and grays in his eyes fought for Elliot’s attention. I remember you.

The fact that Mikael remembered him from years past… Is that a good thing?

Taking slow, deep breaths, Elliot tried to regulate his breathing. Mikael’s voice was every bit as silky as he remembered—calming, rhythmic, like the melody of a love song. Elliot wanted to talk but couldn’t find his voice. He’d waited his entire life for this moment—the next time Mikael would speak to him—and here he was, unable to speak. His mantra wasn’t working. Within seconds, Mikael’s charm had incinerated what Elliot had been taught to help him in social settings.

What was I thinking taking this job?

I can’t do it.

I need to quit.

This was stupid.

Mikael didn’t wait for Elliot to answer as he pushed the door wider for him to come out. I can’t believe it’s you. You look so different. You’re the new houseman?

One, two, three, speak —I… I… Yes. His thoughts wouldn’t get in line. Every time he tried to hold on to one, his brain fizzled, obliterating the thought into a billion pieces. He felt the explosion in his head as he stared at Mikael.

I’m Walter’s nurse. Mikael tugged his scrub top.

Walter? Elliot’s gaze fell on Mikael’s scrubs. Walter Hawthorne … He was Mr. Hawthorne’s nurse ? How long had it been since they had last seen each other?

C’mon. Let’s get you some cake. Mikael waved for Elliot to follow him.

Elliot pushed air in and out of his lungs with deep breaths as he followed his crush back to the kitchen. Hell, he’d follow Mikael into the blazing sun if that was where he was headed.

He kept three steps behind Mikael, mesmerized by his beautiful bubble butt as Mikael’s cheeks moved beneath the thin fabric of his nursing scrubs. Mikael had always had a larger than normal butt, even when they were kids. Because of Mikael, Elliot had developed a physical attraction to a nice butt. Focused, he was able to get a handle on his nerves, and his pulse slowed.

In elementary school, merely being in Mikael’s presence had invoked a pounding in Elliot’s chest, a heightened sense of endorphins, causing butterflies to flutter in his gut. At the time, Elliot hadn’t recognized the sensation that flowed through him as being sexual, but he had as he’d gotten older.

Today, the feeling was no different than sixteen years ago when Mikael had asked him that day what his name was after he’d made Billy give back the dinosaur.

When Elliot and Mikael arrived in the kitchen, the house staff was gathered around the large table in the middle of the room, eating white cake. Elliot was still in awe that the kitchen was more like something in a restaurant than someone’s home. Yesterday, he’d counted two stoves, four ovens, and two massive commercial refrigerators, like the ones he stocked milk in at his weekend job at Food-Fair Groceries.

He had been introduced to almost everyone, except for an older man who was working in the yard and, of course, Mikael, whom he’d caught a glimpse of as Mikael headed up the sweeping grand staircase.

Cake, Elliot? Ms. Martin picked up a plate of cake with the words twenty-five written in red icing across the top. Juanita made it.

Elliot didn’t like white cake, but since the manor’s private chef, Juanita, was standing beside Ms. Martin and staring at him, he took the plate. Thank you, he mumbled as he glanced at Juanita, a short Hispanic woman wearing wire-frame glasses. His stomach clenched with nerves around his new coworkers. People staring at him didn’t make him nervous; it was interacting with them that did.

Mikael walked over to the eight-inch round cake. He was hiding in the linen closet, he said to the group as he cut himself another slice.

"I thought the closet was your thing, Mikael?" Shirley, the housekeeper, piped in.

Girl, I’ve never been in the closet. I’ll suck your husband’s tiny dick right in front of you, Mikael snapped back.

Elliot remained silent, his stare fixed on Shirley, who intimidated him a little. Fair skin with loosely curly brown hair, she was loud and came across as aggressive. Were she and Mikael actually arguing? He wanted to defend himself and clarify that he wasn’t hiding—maybe isolating, but definitely not hiding.

He started to say his mantra but stopped at two , not wanting to interrupt them. It was best not to get in between whatever was happening between Shirley and Mikael as they argued about how and who could suck dick better between them.

Was Mikael admitting to being gay? Is Shirley’s husband gay? Elliot had more questions than answers. He recalled the night two years ago when he thought he’d seen Mikael kissing another guy in the grocery store. It had been the first time he’d realized Mikael might be gay.

Ms. Martin interrupted the squabbling match. Elliot, have you met Mr. Chim yet?

Elliot turned to the man sitting at the table. No. Not yet. He extended his hand to the elderly Asian man.

The man stood, revealing how short he was, five two at most. Good morning, Mr. Chim murmured as he shook Elliot’s hand, then sat back down.

Mr. Chim is the caretaker. Ms. Martin touched Mr. Chim’s arm. On occasion, you’ll be working with him outside as well.

Between this reminder and the bantering between Mikael and Shirley, Elliot’s anxiety remained at a ten. He tapped his wrist and concentrated on staying focused and breathing.

Okay, you two are being lewd. I can’t take it anymore. Ms. Martin looked at Mikael as she put her fingers in her ears and walked out of the kitchen.

Elliot tried to redirect his attention to something other than Mikael’s and Shirley’s bickering. He, too, wished he could put his fingers in his ears or, even better, walk out of the room.

Seeing Mikael again was a mixture of emotions. Sure, he was glad to know someone here… well , kind of know someone. Mikael was someone who’d never said a mean thing to him. But now, working together, along with a flurry of butterflies dancing in his gut, Mikael’s proximity played havoc on his ability to keep his anxiety under control.

Out of the corner of Elliot’s vision, a little amber light on the kitchen wall lit up.

Elliot had been shown the board—the very old-fashioned call system in the house. Each room in the eight-thousand-square-foot old mansion was equipped with a button. When a button was pressed in a room, a light lit up on the board in the kitchen for the corresponding room.

Mikael turned to Elliot. Have you had a chance to meet Walter yet?

Elliot shook his head. He found it odd that Mikael was the only one in the house who referred to Mr. Hawthorne by his first name.

I’ll take you to the third floor and introduce you. Mikael took three more quick bites of his cake before putting the plate in the sink.

One, two, three, speak— Okay. Elliot was relieved to have an excuse to get out of the kitchen.

Mikael led him into the butler’s pantry off the kitchen, where they passed through a narrow door. Behind the door was a spiral staircase.

Have you used this stairwell yet? Mikael closed the door behind them.

No. Elliot looked up at something that could easily be in a haunted house.

Unsure where this creepy staircase would take them, he looked at Mikael. I’ve only worked downstairs so far.

This is how you go from floor to floor. For some reason, Ms. Martin prefers her staff use this instead of the main stairs. Walter has a private elevator on the other side of the house that he and I use when he leaves the house. It goes from his bedroom to the main-floor library, where it’s hidden behind a bookcase. The bookcase slides open like in the movies. It’s pretty cool. If you don’t know where it is, you’d never suspect it’s there.

Private hidden elevator? Elliot shook his head in awe at his new place of employment. Growing up poor, his apartment building on the other side of town was four stories, and it didn’t even have an elevator.

Last night in bed, before he had drifted off to sleep, Elliot had scrolled on his phone, searching for information about his new employer. He’d been surprised to learn that Mr. Hawthorne had once been a big deal in the music industry. He’d read several articles about the old man’s music career and multiple Grammy Awards, as well as several Oscars for music he’d composed for movies. Elliot thought it was cool that Mr. Hawthorne had built several schools for the poor in Africa, as well as in South America. The guy had been honored for his humanitarianism in multiple countries. His new employer seemed like a big deal, more so than just another rich guy. He’d really done things, big things in his life, and had lived what seemed to have been a pretty glamorous lifestyle.

There wasn’t much on Mr. Hawthorne’s private life other than he’d been born in Tennessee. One photo of him—probably in his twenties—showed him sitting behind a piano, smoking a cigarette. The man was gorgeous. Several other African American men were standing around him in the photo in what looked like a club or studio. How nice would it be to be as rich as Mr. Hawthorne? The one thing that stood out to Elliot was that there was no internet mention of a wife or children. In fact, there was absolutely nothing about any personal relationship with anyone.

As Elliot followed Mikael up the flight of stairs, nervousness grew in his belly as he thought of how to act or what to say to someone as famous as Mr. Hawthorne. Once through a narrow door, they came into a wide hallway. This floor, with its Tiffany-blue walls, high ceilings, and ivory crown molding, was as elaborate as any palace he’d seen on TV.

I know you haven’t had the chance to get up here yet. Up here is his bedroom, office, another music room, and a smaller second library. Oh, and, of course, my bedroom and office. It’s not really an office but a big closet that’s been converted. That’s why Shirley was teasing me about being in the closet.

There was a subtle rise of Elliot’s eyebrow hearing that Mikael lived at the manor. How cool would it be to live here? Being a nurse living here at Hawthorne Manor, Mikael seemed to have it all still.

Mikael led him down the hall. The heels on Elliot’s tight black dress shoes clicked against the marble flooring as they walked the length of it. He looked at the high ceiling that was arched and painted to look like a cloudy blue sky. He had to blink and look away because the clouds looked like they were moving with each step he took.

Elliot’s nerves churned in his gut at the thought of meeting Mr. Hawthorne. He’d never met a famous person before. Why does this man need a private nurse?

They stopped at a set of twelve-foot-high wooden double doors.

Always keep these doors closed. Even if you’re going in and coming right back out, shut the door behind you. He likes to keep the temperature even. Mikael pushed the massive doors open.

Elliot swallowed a lump in his throat as he followed Mikael into a huge room.

Inside the room was a tiny round table with an out-of-place large gallon of hand sanitizer. Mikael pumped it once into his hand and then, with a nod, directed Elliot to do the same.

As Elliot sanitized his hands, he took in more of the grand room. It looked like a living room with a couch, coffee table, and a couple of chairs in the center. Several framed gold albums were hung on the wall. Behind glass cases were awards and plaques. He looked for the Grammys and Oscars Mr. Hawthorne had won.

To the left of the sitting room was a smaller room in which a gray-haired African American man was sitting up in a four-poster bed. The old man stared at them as they approached.

Hi, Walter. What can I do for you? Mikael hit the call button next to the bed to cancel the light.

The room, covered in gold leaf and silver wallpaper, seemed to sparkle even in the low light. Elliot’s attention was drawn from the walls to the hospital equipment and monitors at the head of the bed. Was the man sick or just old? Elliot eyed the TV on the wall. Why was the TV so loud… and the heavy drapes still closed?

The sitting area and bedroom, combined, had to be bigger than the entire two-bedroom, one-bath apartment he shared with his aunt.

Who are you? The old man craned his neck as he looked at Elliot.

This is Elliot. Mikael raised his voice over the volume of the TV. He started yesterday and took Nasir’s place. I brought him up to meet you, so be nice. Mikael adjusted the hunter green comforter pulled up in the man’s lap.

"Elliot, this is Mr. Hawthorne. His last name ends in thorn because he’s a thorn in our side." Mikael laughed.

Between the loud TV, the gold shimmering off the walls, and meeting Mr. Hawthorne, Elliot was on sensory overload. His anxiety was a strong ten.

He stared at the old man. The guy’s nose and ears were too big for his face. Even in the dappled light, there was a glow to his mahogany skin.

Elliot stepped up to the bedside. Um… I’m… Elliot. His gaze went to the man’s feet… or where feet were supposed to be, but instead, the bedding lay flat.

Oh shit… he doesn’t have any legs. Elliot forced a blink, which forced him to stop staring. He extended his hand to shake.

He’s not going to shake your hand. Besides being eccentric, he’s also a germaphobe. Mikael turned back to Mr. Hawthorne. What can we do for you, sir?

I can’t find the remote. Mr. Hawthorne patted the bed.

Is that why the thing is turned up so loud? Mikael glanced around the bedding. When did you last have it? Mikael patted the bed as well.

Two minutes ago.

Elliot dropped to his knees to look under the bed for the remote. Immediately, he saw it. Here it is. Elliot handed the remote to Mr. Hawthorne. The old man’s fingers were long and arthritic.

Is that all you needed? Mikael took the remote from the old man and lowered the sound.

Where’s Nasir? Mr. Hawthorne stared at Elliot.

Nasir’s last day was Friday. You remember—he got a job at UCSF Medical Center. That’s why you got cake last Friday. For his going-away party.

Elliot waited to see if Mr. Hawthorne would ask him anything. He was horrible at small talk, but this was his boss; he had to be ready to talk if required.

Walter, do you have your hearing aids in? Mikael checked Mr. Hawthorne’s ears for himself.

With Mikael’s body stretched over the bed, Elliot got the perfect view of Mikael’s beautiful ass. He watched how effortlessly Mikael interacted with this person who Elliot had conjured up in his head before meeting him as being this big intimidating personality. Now, seeing Mr. Hawthorne and the way Mikael and he interacted, the old man wasn’t so scary after all.

The batteries are dead, Mr. Hawthorne grumbled as he grabbed the remote.

In both of them? Mikael adjusted the bed’s side rail. Why didn’t you say something?

You didn’t ask, the old man huffed. Maybe you did, and I just didn’t hear you. The tiniest hint of a grin was quickly shielded by the old man’s groan, which accompanied the roll of his eyes.

Elliot took a step back to allow Mikael more room to work.

Mikael looked down at the nightstand. Where are the hearing aids? I’ll put new batteries in for you.

In the drawer, Mr. Hawthorne answered.

As Mikael dug around in the drawer, Mr. Hawthorne looked at Elliot, and with a sly smile, Mr. Hawthorne winked.

Seeing the wink, Elliot released a breath as his shoulders relaxed. The old man was actually kind of cute in how he toyed with Mikael.

Mikael replaced the batteries in both hearing aids, then wiped them down with a tissue before handing them to Mr. Hawthorne.

The interaction between Mikael and Mr. Hawthorne was endearing to see. Mikael was as beautiful and charming as he’d been in school.

Is there anything else we can get you, Walter? Mikael folded his arms across his chest and glared at the old man as if daring him to ask for something else.

Mr. Hawthorne held a finger to his lips for a breath. Yeah. More of that cake if you all haven’t eaten it yet.

You can’t have cake today. Your blood sugar is high. And I don’t feel like fighting you later to get you to take your insulin.

It wasn’t that good anyway. Juanita didn’t make it, did she? Mr. Hawthorne pointed the remote at the TV.

Matter of fact, she did. I’ll be sure to tell her you didn’t like it.

You better not. Mr. Hawthorne shook a finger at Mikael.

Do you need anything else before we go?

Mr. Hawthorne didn’t answer Mikael and just turned his head toward the TV.

Mikael motioned for Elliot to follow him out of the room as Mr. Hawthorne raised the sound back up.

One, two, three, speak— Is he diabetic?

Yes.

Is that why his legs are missing?

No. A car accident three years ago. Before me. He’d been pinned in his car for hours. They couldn’t save his legs.

Does he ever leave his room?

He did until a couple of months ago.

What happened?

Walter has congestive heart failure and kidney failure, hence why I’m here.

You must be an excellent nurse. I mean, to be able to do everything that you do.

"I like to think I am. When I first came to work for him, it was a little scary, being by myself and all. I had to learn a lot and fast . Luckily, I already had dialysis experience. This last year has been challenging, with his decline and all. He’s a very rich man. With that comes some of the best doctors in the world, who have been a wealth of knowledge to me and are just a phone call away. By working one-on-one with them, I’ve learned a ton."

How come the curtains are closed? Elliot asked, wondering if he was sensitive to light.

About three months ago, he stopped letting me open them. He didn’t want to look at the gardens anymore. Spencer planted that rose garden out back. He was really into roses. Walter said it pained him to see the garden now.

Spencer? Who’s that? The thought was fleeting as Elliot recalled his grandpa having to always take his blood sugar level and check insulin to control it. I thought you weren’t supposed to have sugar if you have diabetes?

In theory, yes. But, hell, he’s eighty-eight years old. The man is dying; let him enjoy what he wants. In moderation, of course. I can control it with insulin when I have to. If you’re ever in the room and he asks for something, say yes, then come tell me. I’ll take care of it. He’s a sneaky shit sometimes.

Envisioning Mr. Hawthorne being a sneaky shit, a nervous laugh seeped from Elliot’s chest. There were so many questions he wanted to ask about Mr. Hawthorne, but at the moment, Mr. Hawthorne was not who he really wanted to talk about. Are you gay? He had to be sure that’s what he heard Mikael tell Shirley downstairs.

Mikael’s brows drew together. I am… Mikael answered with a tilt of his head as if listening to music only he could hear.

Although unsure if his question was okay to ask, Elliot decided that it must have been since Mikael answered it. With Mikael’s clear admission, Elliot felt he should share something important as well. There were many things he wanted to share that were important to him, but the pressure of picking the right one when he didn’t have a minute to compose his thoughts could be disastrous.

I like you… I’m gay too… I like this job… I have Asperger’s, he blurted. He wasn’t embarrassed about being on the spectrum. In fact, he’d learned that by telling people, it helped explain his anxiety or needs. He watched for a reaction from Mikael, any movement in his face muscles—his eyes—a crinkle of the forehead that he could make sense of.

Oh… I didn’t know that. Mikael raked his fingers through his hair but never took his eyes off Elliot.

Yep. Elliot was about to tap his wrist but stopped as soon as his gaze caught Mikael’s. The gentleness in Mikael’s stare as his eyes held steadfast on him caused Elliot’s heart to slow a