Redesigning Landry Bishop Page 18

  Even though the photos weren’t great quality, Landry could tell that the artwork was beautiful and creative—a swirl of abstract shapes and bright hues that perfectly conveyed youthfulness and joy.

  “Wow!” Landry exclaimed. “I love it. I hope you’re considering a career as an artist.” He handed the phone back to the beaming girl.

  The boy lifted his chin. “I’m applying to art schools in California and Chicago.” He looked determined and proud and a little frightened.

  Landry handed him the book and set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to be hoping you achieve everything you dream of. If you need an extra letter of recommendation, drop me an email. Jordan screens my emails, so just remind him you’re from Peril and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

  The boy nearly strangled Landry with the force of his embrace.

  Right at that moment, Landry didn’t crave fast food, cheap comfy clothes, or escapist TV. Right now he had everything he wanted.

  Chapter Seventeen

  LANDRY had to go to the community center and pose for photos and eat bland grocery store cookies. He didn’t mind too much. It was interesting to chat with some of the people he’d grown up with. Even the ones who’d treated him badly back then seemed genuinely thrilled to see him again. He didn’t carry grudges. Being young was hard, and with the perspective of maturity, he knew many of those people had carried burdens of their own. He even suspected that the adversity he’d faced while young had helped him grow strong.

  He had no idea how long the socializing might stretch on. Missy and her family had left some time ago, when the twins got too excited and tired and teetered on the verge of tantrums. Landry was just beginning to flag when Jordan approached and said, in a louder voice than necessary, “Landry, we have to go. You have that Skype meeting with Ms. Winfrey, remember?”

  Well, nobody could argue with that. After a few final hugs, Jordan bundled Landry into the truck. But instead of heading back to their house, where dinner needed preparing, Jordan drove out of town and stopped again at the railroad tracks. No trains were passing now.

  “Oh my God,” Landry said after a long silence.

  “Yeah.”

  “That was…. Oh my God.”

  “I love how authors like you have such an extensive vocabulary.” Jordan squeezed Landry’s knee. “But you’re right. Oh my God.”

  That seemed to about cover it, so they stayed quiet for several minutes. But then Jordan cocked his head. “Do you really have a hundred grand to toss around like that?”

  “I’ve been thinking about the Jag, just sitting in the garage and gathering dust. Since it was a gift from Steve and selling it could provide the bulk of the donation money, I was maybe going to ask them to dedicate the library to him. If that’s okay with you.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?”

  “Because now that we’re together, I don’t want—”

  Jordan stopped him with a raised hand. “He was your husband and you loved him. I’m not jealous of him, Lan. I think it’d be really nice for you to honor his memory that way.”

  “Jesus.” Landry shook his head in wonderment. “You are one amazing human being, Jordan Stryker.”

  Level ten smile. “Do you know the moment I started falling in love with you?”

  “Love?”

  “Yep. L-O-V-E. Maybe some people might say this is too fast, that we haven’t known each other very long, but they’d be wrong. There’s the click, remember? Plus I’ve been waiting thirty years for you. That’s plenty long enough.”

  Landry moved in for a kiss, but Jordan held him off. “Nope, not yet. I was telling you something. The moment, right? When I saw the light?”

  “Okay, when was that?”

  “Do you remember that awful dinner I made? With the gross sauces and seasonings?”

  Landry chuckled. “It was pretty unforgettable.”

  “Kind of like the Hindenburg disaster. I thought you were gonna fire me. But you didn’t even yell. You didn’t make me feel like a huge fuckup. You were just, Oh well, shit happens, let’s clean up and eat sandwiches.”

  “That made you fall in love with me?”

  “Start to, yeah. ’Cause you acted like I could fail without being a failure. A few days later you smiled at me over breakfast. And that….” He paused and cleared his throat. “That did it.”

  Landry’s throat felt thick too. “I haven’t told you this enough, but you’re remarkable, Jordan. You haven’t just made my everyday life easier, although you’ve accomplished that as well. You’ve also helped me see myself more clearly. Helped me become a better version of myself.”

  “I….” Jordan sniffed loudly. His eyes might have been a little dewy, but his smile could have illuminated all of Nebraska. When he spoke, his voice rasped slightly. “Good. Some people used to tell me I lacked ambition, but I didn’t. I dreamed of making a difference to someone. I’m so glad that someone is you.” They did kiss then. They made out like teenagers, actually, not even stopping when a passing train shook the truck. And just as the train disappeared into the distance, Landry reached a decision.

  Chapter Eighteen

  LANDRY hadn’t made it to the Barn Owl the previous day, and going today meant stopping every three feet to shake someone’s hand and thank them for their congratulations. He was pleased, however, to discover that the store had improved its selection since he’d moved away, and he was able to find some surprisingly exotic groceries. Well, exotic for Peril. He wondered who in town regularly consumed kimchi, matcha, and hummus.

  After changing into jeans and a sweater, he got to work in the kitchen. The twins were napping, and Jordan was helping Rod assemble a new storage system in the garage. Missy sat on a kitchen chair and watched Landry prep.

  “How are you doing? After the extravaganza, I mean.” She looked slightly worried.

  “I’m still pretty overwhelmed.” The dried porcini mushrooms had already rehydrated in a bowl of water, and now he drained them and began to chop. He smiled when he realized the knife was part of the set he’d sent Missy and Rod for Christmas a few years earlier.

  “It was quite a to-do,” she agreed. “You sure held up well, though. I can’t imagine standing there and talking to all those people without even note cards to rely on.”

  “I still can’t believe Aunt Trudy did that. I mean the center itself—that’s incredible. But naming it after me?”

  “We’re proud of you, Wormy.”

  He smiled at her. “I’m proud of you too. Rod, the twins, everything you’ve done with this house…. You’ve done well for yourself. You have a really great family. And you’ve always, always had my back.”

  Her chin wobbled, and she sniffled. She reached for a paper napkin, mumbling something improbable about allergies before she blew her nose.

  And he winked at her and smiled, because he’d already cried once today, and that was more than enough.

  HE popped dinner in the oven just as Rod and Jordan tromped in from the garage, both of them happily smudged with dust. Rod sniffed the air. “Wow, smells good! What’re you making?”

  “Lasagna.”

  “Really? I love lasagna. I was sort of expecting something schmancier, though.”

  “It has celery root, mushrooms, and a white sauce.”

  Rod grinned. “See? Schmancy! Can’t wait.”

  “You’ll have to wait about an hour for it to bake.”

  “Perfect, ’cause we’ve gotta wash up.” He held aloft a pair of filthy hands.

  While Rod and Jordan went upstairs to clean up—Jordan first detouring to kiss Landry’s cheek—Missy disappeared to investigate the ominous bangs coming from Blake’s room. And that was perfect for Landry, who grabbed his phone and ducked outside onto the back porch. Ignoring the chill and gazing out at the frost-killed garden and the tree he’d once fallen out of, he called Suzee.

  Just as Landry reentered the kitchen, Jordan came in too, all tidied up and with his hair slightly damp.
Landry wanted to drag him upstairs to bed but instead took his hand. “Would you go for a short drive with me?”

  “Sure! Need more mushrooms?”

  “No, this is something else.”

  They grabbed their jackets, and Landry found Rod in the living room, picking up toys. “Can you do me a favor? If the oven buzzes before we’re back, just turn the temperature down to two hundred.”

  “Sure.” Rod dumped an armful of action figures into a toy chest. “Two hundred.”

  Landry got behind the wheel this time, and Jordan didn’t ask where they were headed. Maybe he could tell from the tightness of Landry’s shoulders that patience was best. Landry headed south out of town, but not by far. No other cars were in sight when he parked at the side of the road.

  “Cemetery?” Jordan asked.

  “Yes.”

  Without further comment, Landry led him down a familiar path to a granite stone engraved with two names and sets of dates. The last time he’d visited, there had been only one. “I should have brought flowers,” he said.

  Jordan stood close against him. “We can come back later if you want.”

  “Maybe.” Perhaps he should have felt sad, standing at his parents’ plot, but he didn’t, not really. Partly because he’d finished mourning them long ago, and partly because the decisions he’d made this afternoon felt so right. He was a little nervous, yet more comfortable in his skin than he could remember. His parents would have been happy to know that.

  “Do you see all the Bishops?” Landry asked.

  Jordan took a few minutes to wander around. “Wow. They’re everywhere.”

  “Yes. We’ve been dropping dead around here for well over a century.”

  “Impressive. And it’s a nice cemetery.”

  “It’s better in the summer, when the trees have leaves. But yes.” Landry pointed to an empty space close to his parents’ grave. “That plot is mine.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Completely. My grandfather bought it in my name right after I was born.”

  Jordan walked over to the space and looked down at the dry grass. “Isn’t that kind of creepy?”

  “I thought so at first. But my dad said his dad was just making sure I’d have a spot close to everyone else for my final rest. Still morbid, but also sort of sweet.”

  “It is.” Jordan chuckled. “The more I learn about your family, the more I like them.”

  “I was thinking…. Steve wanted to be cremated. His relatives are a bunch of homophobic shitheads who didn’t even bother to show up for the memorial service, so I don’t care about them. And I never knew quite what to do with the ashes, so… they’re in the closet in my study. Top shelf. Now I’m thinking maybe I should inter them here.”

  Jordan wrapped an arm around Landry’s waist. “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

  “Good. But believe it or not, I didn’t drag you out here to discuss Steve or the legion of deceased Bishops.” Landry detached himself so he could face Jordan.

  “You look very serious.” Jordan bit his lip and shifted his stance uneasily.

  “That’s because I’m going to have to let you go.”

  “I…. What?”

  “I don’t need a PA anymore. I turned down Suzee’s offer. In fact, I’ve decided to stop doing any live appearances. I’m going to concentrate on my books and my blog.”

  Jordan answered in a whisper. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what I really want to do. A wise woman once told me, and I quote, ‘Be more of who you want to be instead of who you think you should be.’ I want to stop trying to fit some image and instead be the real Landry Bishop. Not the brand, but a man from Nebraska who gives pretty good advice about how to turn your bedroom into a relaxing retreat.”

  For good reason, Jordan looked confused and shaken. Yet he managed a genuine smile. “That’s great, Landry. I’m so glad for you.”

  “It feels great. Like a huge weight is gone.”

  “You look… I don’t know. Loose? Grounded. Was there something specific that helped you make this decision?”

  Landry reached up to give Jordan’s cheek a quick stroke. “You helped. But also I noticed something after we got here. People were making a huge fuss over me, but they weren’t hounding me with questions about which stars I know or how glamorous life is in Hollywood. They were telling me things instead—about their kids, their jobs, their psoriasis.” He chuckled. “I could have lived without that last topic. Anyway, I realized they were all saying the same thing, and today at the center, they really drove that message home.”

  “And what was that?” Jordan asked quietly.

  “They want me. Not because I’m famous, but because I’m me. In their hearts, I never stopped being a Perilian. I guess maybe in my heart, I never stopped either.”

  “Are you planning to move here?”

  Landry laughed and shook his head. “That’s a step too far. But I’ll visit. I’ll do a better job of keeping in touch. And when I die, well, I guess I’ll come home for good.” He scraped his foot across his waiting burial plot.

  Jordan nodded. “But you don’t need a PA anymore.”

  “Not really. I won’t be flying off to New York or making appointments with designers. I won’t be working all the time.”

  Again, an authentic smile from Jordan. “I’m really glad to hear that. And I totally understand. I’ll find another job—I always do. But what about us? The personal us, not professional.”

  This next part was tricky. Dangerous, maybe. But Landry wanted it more than anything. “Actually, I’m laying you off as PA, but I have another position to offer you instead.”

  “Yeah?” A hint of a smile played at the edges of Jordan’s lips, and his eyes held a definite sparkle. “What position is that?”

  Landry dropped onto one knee. Fortunately his gravesite was soft. “Partner. Life partner. I, uh, don’t have a ring to offer you at the moment. But will you consider a position as my husband?”

  Stryker Scale level ten. No. Eleven.

  Jordan whooped loud enough to scare some birds from a nearby tree. Then he grabbed Landry by the biceps, hauled him to his feet, and crushed him in a bear hug. “Yes!” he whispered into Landry’s ear. “Yes, and yes!”

  And dammit, now Landry was crying again. “You didn’t even wait to hear my complete offer.”

  “I don’t care. This position comes with benefits way too good to pass up.” Jordan squeezed him even harder. “Besides, will my job description really change all that much? PA or husband, I’ll still be the guy who helps you be the very best Landry you can be. That’s the best job in the world.”

  “And I get to help you be the world’s best Jordan. We’ll work together to be a spectacular us.”

  Kissing one’s fiancé passionately atop one’s own burial plot might have been unusual, but Landry had the sense that none of the surrounding Bishops would disapprove. Somebody drove by, honking long and loud and interrupting the mood for the moment.

  “Are we going to stay in LA?” Jordan asked.

  Landry had given this a bit of thought. “We could, if you wanted. But there’s no reason we have to. We can live wherever we like.”

  “You’d give up your beautiful house? The pool? The view?”

  “The traffic. The pretension. The incessant sunshine.” Landry loved his house, but he could easily love another as long as Jordan was there to share it. And considering the asking price for a Hollywood Hills mansion, he’d be able to afford just about anything somewhere else.

  “Seattle doesn’t have incessant sunshine.” Jordan’s eyes glittered with excitement.

  “And it has a good foodie scene, plus some homes with lovely views. I think I’d enjoy Seattle.” Landry caught Jordan’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Whither thou goest, I will go. Where thou lodgest, I will lodge.”

  “Are you going to write a blog on how to romance your fiancé with Old Testament verses?”

  “There you go. You’re i
n your new position for two minutes and already you’re helping me.”

  That led to another kiss, this one as good as the last and promising many more in the future.

  “We’d better get back to your lasagna,” Jordan said with a pat to Landry’s ass.

  “And to share our good news.”

  Jordan took Landry’s hand and they began to walk back to the truck. “We have to call Elaine right away,” Jordan said.

  “Of course. I’d like to ask her to be my best woman.” She could even wear that dress he’d brought her from New York, if she wanted. “Um, do you suspect she may have been—”

  “Trying to set us up? I’ve been thinking that for a while.” Jordan whooped another loud laugh. “Good old Elaine. She’s going to think it’s funny you popped the question in a cemetery in Nebraska.”

  “Are you kidding? Marriage proposals in rural graveyards are the latest thing. Landry Bishop says so.”

  “Well, if Landry Bishop says so….”

  Laughing, teasing, giddy from pure joy, Landry and Jordan got into the truck and began their journey together.

  KIM FIELDING is pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. Her books span a variety of genres, but all include authentic voices and unconventional heroes. She’s a Rainbow Award and SARA Emma Merritt winner, a LAMBDA finalist, and a two-time Foreword INDIE finalist. She has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full-time. She also dreams of having two teenagers who occasionally get off their phones, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a cat who doesn’t wake her up at 4:00 a.m. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.

  Blogs: kfieldingwrites.com and www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding/blog

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