Wellspring by Barry Brennessel

Author:Barry Brennessel [Brennessel, Barry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance, historical
Publisher: MLR Press
Published: 2014-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Vincent and I have the impression our Aiden is running from something.”

They sat around the dining room table, the four of them—Aiden, his parents, and Maxwell Tembooke.

How expansive this dining room was; it seemed even more cavernous than he remembered. Of course, it might have simply been the projection of his mood, that this dinner was a cold, barbarian ritual of forcing strikingly different personalities together to see what conflict would arise, much like the ancient Roman habit of throwing wild animals together in the Coliseum.

“Oh, no, I don’t agree,” Max said. “He was running to something, I believe. A cause.” He smiled. “A pioneer must follow his inspiration. It doesn’t come calling at his door and lay out the plan.”

“You seem to know a lot about my son, for having only just met him,” his mother said.

“It was rather a long train ride,” Max said, without smiling.

“Well, still,” Louisa said, motioning she was in need of more wine, “it isn’t the best timing for him to simply up and leave our home every two weeks.” She turned to her son. “We’ve suffered from far too much of that in this family.”

After refreshing his wife’s glass, Vincent leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat “Now, Louisa. Let’s remember we’re entertaining a guest. You haven’t let this gentleman speak at all since he’s arrived.”

His wife scowled. “Oh, Vincent, That’s not true.” She turned to Max. “Is that how you feel, Mr. Tembrooke? I certainly hope not. If anyone has mastered the art of monopolizing conversation, it’s my husband.”

“Are you following the progress of the war?” Vincent asked. “I have maps in my study. I’m keeping track of every piece of land that’s freeing itself of the Kaiser’s control. I have family in the Vosges.” His father shifted in his chair, ready to rise. To fetch a map, perhaps? The evening paper? To wheel in the globe from the study? “The Prussians stole it from the French in…what now? 1870, May of 1871, something like that. Which is why my mother and uncle came to America. There was nothing left for them after that war.”

Louisa pursed her lips. “Vincent, let’s not bore Mr. Tembrooke with family history.”

Mrs. Henderson entered the room, balancing two dinner plates. She set them before Louisa and their guest. She cast a sideways glance at her employer. “Doing our paahht for the war effort.”

Vincent studied his wife’s plate of corn pudding and chicken force-meat. “Calumet’s Reliable Recipes again?” He was as crushed as a child who got nothing more than a sweater on Christmas.

“Boston Cooking School.” And before anyone could reply, Mrs. Henderson hurried back through the door.

“The war effort,” Louisa said softly, empathetically to her husband. Her eyes said, Be strong and brave my dear; we’ll get through yet another crisis, however slight.

“The war effort,” Vincent grumbled.

“I would in truth like to know more about the Royce family.” Max waved around the room. “What’s your secret for success? Clearly you’ve been doing all right for yourself.

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