When he’d vented to Marty following one such encounter, his friend had quoted H. G. Wells to him: “Moral indignation is jealousy with a halo.” And indeed, Wells’s Mr. Brumley had manufactured many a reason to despise Sir Isaac Harman, all because Brumley was ashamed at having fallen in love with Harman’s wife. Thinking on it, Hudson had wondered if his friends similarly despised him, if they coveted his affair because they longed for affairs of their own. If so, he thought, they understood nothing of the potential for ruin in such an undertaking.

  “He committed suicide,” Hudson answered Ben. Now that it was out there, he felt the relief of having said it and found it easier than expected to provide the details. “He shot himself.”

  “Because of ... the affair?” asked Ben.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Hudson said. “He didn’t leave a note, and I couldn’t very well ask Emily. I heard later that they were having financial troubles, but I don’t know that that was the reason.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “But if you’re asking me what I think,” he said, “I think Paul couldn’t accept who he was.”

  He was finished. There was really no more to the story. Everything else was speculation and supposition. He’d worked through all of them, searched everywhere for reasons, and had finally come to the conclusion that he would never really know what Paul had been thinking that night when he’d put a pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger. Moreover, he’d elected not to drive himself crazy with trying.

  “So the manuscript,” Ben said. “His work ...”

  “I promised I would finish it,” said Hudson. That had been his one concession to his own feelings of guilt. It had been an easy one to make, as the mystery intrigued him as much as it had Paul. Still, it was a concession nonetheless. Worse, he realized now that it had also been a way for him to not let go.

  “I can’t imagine what he must have been feeling,” Ben said quietly.

  Hudson looked at him. “Can’t you?” he asked. Everything he’d said had led to this point. Now, as he saw Ben considering the question, he felt his heart begin to pound.

  Ben shook his head slowly. “I can’t, Hudson,” he said.

  “Can’t understand?” said Hudson.

  “I just can’t,” Ben repeated. “I’m not ...”

  “Not what?”

  “Caddie,” Ben said. “She doesn’t ... She’s just angry with me.”

  “This isn’t about Caddie,” Hudson said gently. “This is about you.”

  “I know she thinks that we’re ...” Ben began.

  “It’s not about us either, Ben,” said Hudson. “It’s about you and who you are.”

  Ben wouldn’t look at him. His head was bowed, and he continued to shake it from side to side. When he did finally look up at Hudson, it was with an expression of deep despair. “I don’t know who I am,” he said.

  Hudson crossed the floor to him, stopping in front of Ben and putting his hands on his shoulders. “Look at me,” he said.

  Ben turned his face to Hudson. His eyes held enormous pain.

  “You do know who you are,” Hudson said slowly. “And whoever you are—whoever you turn out to be—you’re a good man.”

  Neither spoke for a long time. Ben’s mouth trembled, and Hudson felt his whole body shaking, like the first stirrings of a coming earthquake. He pulled Ben to him and held him as it broke. For a moment Ben seemed about to slump to the floor, but then he steadied himself, and Hudson felt the tentative touch of his hands as Ben embraced him.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

  Ben wasn’t crying, although his chest heaved raggedly. It was as if he was trying to speak but couldn’t form the words. Instead, what he was feeling translated itself into physical form. Hudson held him tightly, absorbing the torrent of feeling, growing dizzy from the force and power of it.

  Ben lifted his head from Hudson’s shoulder. The pain in his eyes had faded, and now it was replaced with questions. Hudson answered them by placing his mouth on Ben’s and kissing him. Ben, shaking, kissed him back, inexpertly and beautifully.

  Without a word, Hudson took him by the hand and led him up the stairs. In the bedroom, he faced Ben and reached for the top button of his shirt. He realized as he unhooked it that the shirt was the same one Ben had been wearing the night in the locker room. Only this time, Hudson was taking it off of him.

  When Ben was shirtless, Hudson ran his hands down the furry expanse of his chest. Ben stood with his arms at his side. Ben took one of his hands and placed it on his own chest. Ben looked at it, as if he was unsure if it really belonged to him. Then he moved it, slowly, to the open neck of Hudson’s shirt. When his fingertips touched bare skin, he drew them back slightly, then replaced them.

  Hudson resisted the urge to help him by removing his own shirt. He let Ben do it, however fumblingly. When it was done, Ben touched Hudson as if he were a statue, lightly and with a sense of fear, as if at any moment someone would tell him that he was violating a clearly posted rule. His fingers brushed Hudson’s skin, pausing at a nipple, barely grazing it as they passed over.

  Hudson drew him closer, placing his hands on Ben’s lower back so that their torsos were touching. He kissed him again, this time with greater passion. His tongue sought Ben’s, found it, drew it into his mouth.

  He kissed Ben’s neck, moved his mouth down his collarbone to the cleft of his throat. He kept going, his lips closing around a nipple, biting gently as Ben let out a gasp of surprise. He was tempted to go further, resisted it, returned to Ben’s mouth and kissed him some more.

  Ben allowed his pants to be undone, offered no resistance when Hudson pushed them down. And when Hudson stepped out of his own jeans, it was Ben who led him to the bed and watched while Hudson lay down on it. Then he sat, looking down at Hudson with desire and fear, a fear Hudson answered by reaching up and putting his hand behind Ben’s neck and drawing him down.

  Now Ben’s hands touched him more surely, exploring Hudson’s body with the eagerness of a boy. He paused only a moment in the space below Hudson’s navel before slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts and seeking out his cock. When he touched it, he kissed Hudson, hard, and drew away to bend his head down.

  He took Hudson into his mouth, and as he did Hudson found himself thinking that only a man really knew how to pleasure another man. Whereas women sucked cock, men adored it, like the relic of a saint or the symbol of their own power. He suspected that women gave attention to the penis because they loved what it could do for them, while men worshiped it because they loved what they could do for it.

  Ben was not without the faults of a novice, but he displayed an innate understanding of what would feel good. He sucked gently at the head of Hudson’s cock, worked the shaft with a sure hand, as if the experience of another lifetime flowed through him. Hudson, watching him, saw that Ben had found something he’d long sought without knowing it, and that sweetened the experience immeasurably.

  When Hudson felt himself getting close, he drew Ben’s head up and they switched places. Hudson took his time, drawing forth groans from Ben’s throat with every touch of his mouth. Whenever he sensed Ben was nearing the edge, he backed off, letting him cool off before beginning again.

  They continued in this way for a long time, neither of them wanting it to end, neither speaking a word. There was an understanding that this was Ben’s initiation into a new world, and both were reluctant to break the spell too quickly. Whenever the threat of orgasm approached, they warded it off with distance, kissing and familiarizing themselves with one another’s body until it was safe to resume.

  When it did end, they were lying side by side, each holding the other’s cock in his hand. Ben came first. Hudson felt the quick throb and release as Ben’s body lost control, casting a milky net over his hand and Ben’s stomach. Seeing this, Hudson gave in as well, and while Ben continued to pump him, he lifted his ass from the bed and groaned. Jism arced from his prick, laying a line of white from throat to groin as his balls drew up and he shook with the force of his climax.

  There had always been for him, after the shuddering ceased and the heat of his cum had begun to cool into inconvenient stickiness, a moment when he felt ashamed of possessing such animal urges. Now, though, he felt nothing but joy. Beside him, Ben was still breathing heavily. His hand still held Hudson’s softening cock, as if he feared letting go of it.

  “Are you okay?” Hudson asked, turning to look at him.

  Ben nodded. “I’m trying not to forget what it felt like,” he said.

  Hudson leaned over and kissed him. “Don’t worry,” he said. “If you forget, I’ll remind you.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Ben was cooking eggs when Caddie came in. He flipped them over, looked at his daughter, and said, “Good morning” in a cheerful voice.

  Caddie looked at Hudson, seated at the table drinking a cup of coffee, and said nothing. She started to walk through the kitchen on her way upstairs but was stopped short when Ben said, “Sit down. I’m making breakfast.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Caddie said stonily.

  “Sit down anyway,” said Ben, sliding the finished eggs onto a plate, adding two strips of bacon, and setting it on the table. “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, but I’d like you here.”

  Caddie seemed about to argue, but then she pulled a chair roughly away from the table and sat. She glared at the plate of food, not looking at either Hudson or her father.

  “Where were you all night?” Ben asked.

  “Out,” said Caddie curtly.

  Ben cracked an egg and poured the contents into the frying pan. “By ‘out’ I assume you mean you were at Brian’s,” he said. “It would have been nice if you’d let me know you weren’t coming home.”

  Caddie cast a glance at Hudson. “Why?” she asked. “You didn’t spend it alone. Right?”

  Ben turned to her, the spatula in his hand. “Whether I did or not, I expect you to let me know if you’re not coming home,” he said.

  Caddie rolled her eyes and snorted. “What, you get laid and all of a sudden you get to act like a real parent?”

  “I should have been acting like a real parent all along,” Ben replied. “That was my fault. But it’s not my fault that you’re unhappy, so stop blaming me for that.”

  Caddie stood up.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Ben demanded.

  “Brian and I are going diving,” said Caddie. “He’s taking me to Monastery.”

  “Monastery?” Ben said. “You’re not going to Monastery. It’s an advanced site, and even when the conditions are perfect it’s a dangerous dive.”

  “Brian says it’s fine,” Caddie said.

  Ben laughed. “Yes, well, Brian’s an idiot,” he informed her.

  Caddie bristled. “He’s a good diver,” she said unconvincingly.

  Ben slid the eggs from the pan and took them to the table. “You’re not diving Monastery,” he said as he sat down. “And that’s final.”

  “I can do what I want!” Caddie yelled.

  Ben poked at his eggs, breaking the yoke. He picked up a piece of toast, dipped it into the yellow center, and took a bite before answering. “You can go,” he said, “on one condition. I’m coming with you.”

  Caddie shook her head. “I don’t need you to come with me,” she said.

  Ben chewed on his toast. “I know a lot more about Monastery than Brian does,” he said. “I also happen to be an actual scuba instructor.” He paused, letting the barb sink in. “And I’m your father,” he concluded.

  “I don’t need you,” Caddie said again. She turned away and started to leave.

  “If Brian takes you to Monastery,” Ben said, “I will personally make sure that he’s banned from every dive shop and boat in town for taking an uncertified diver in the water.”

  Caddie swirled around, her mouth hanging open and her face red with rage. Ben didn’t look at her as he continued speaking. “I will also have him fired from his job at the aquarium and contact his certifying agency to see that his personal c-card is revoked.” He looked at Caddie. “Now, do you still want to have this conversation?”

  Caddie, speechless, shook her head. “You can’t do that,” she said.

  “I can,” Ben said simply. “And I will. So, either I go with the two of you or you don’t go at all.”

  Caddie swallowed hard. She seemed about to cry. “Fine,” she spat. “If you want to come, you can come.”

  “Thank you,” Ben said. “Tell Brian to meet us there at one. The tide should be in then.”

  Caddie left, and they could hear her feet on the stairs as she stormed up to her room. Ben half expected to hear the slam of a door, but none came.

  “That was something,” said Hudson.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life,” Ben told him. He smiled. “Except maybe for last night.”

  “You’re sure you’re still okay about that?” Hudson asked.

  “More or less,” said Ben. He looked at Hudson. “Not about you,” he said quickly. “I just mean it’s a lot to take in all at once. Yesterday I was just confused. Now I’m ... gay,” he finished. “Or something.”

  “You’re something, all right,” Hudson teased. “But I’m serious. You said this was something you never even considered. Are you sure you’re not just ...”

  “Going through a phase?” Ben suggested.

  Hudson shrugged. “Well, yeah. It must have occurred to you.”

  “Sure it has,” said Ben. “And, no, I never had considered it before. But there are a lot of things about myself I ignored. Maybe this was one of them.”

  He picked up a piece of bacon and bit the end from it. “When you first told me what Caddie said,” he told Hudson, “I tried to convince myself that I was just happy to have a friend. A real friend. I told myself she just didn’t recognize the difference.” He tipped the bacon strip toward Hudson. “I guess I was the one who didn’t recognize the difference.”

  Hudson got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. When he sat down he said, “We should probably talk about what’s going to happen now.”

  “No,” Ben said. “Not now.” He looked at Hudson. “Just let me enjoy this for a while, okay?”

  “What makes you think I won’t?” Hudson asked him.

  “I didn’t say you would,” said Ben. “But I don’t want to chance it.”

  Hudson added sugar to his cup and stirred it. “All right,” he said. “No talking until you’re ready. What do we do in the meantime?”

  “We did pretty well not talking last night,” said Ben. “Maybe we could continue that conversation?”

  Hudson pretended to consider the question, taking several sips of coffee before replying. “I think I can do that,” he said.

  Ben reached out and took his hand. “Thank you,” he said.

  Hudson laced his fingers between Ben’s. “You know,” he said, “if it wasn’t for Caddie, this probably never would have happened.”

  Ben sighed. “I hope I’m doing the right thing with her,” he said. “I just don’t know.”

  “What’s this Monastery she’s talking about?” Hudson asked him.

  “A dive site,” Ben explained. “You pass it when you drive to Pt. Lobos. There’s a Carmelite monastery on the other side of the road.”

  “And is it really dangerous?”

  “It’s hard to get in and out of the water there,” Ben explained. “Also, the waves are deceptive. Every year one or two people die there because they don’t take it seriously enough.”

  “Then why dive there?” Hudson asked.

  “Ah,” Ben said. “Because it’s one of the most beautiful dives anywhere in the world.” A note of excitement entered his voice as he talked. “Monastery is where the Monterey Canyon comes closest to shore,” he said. “You can dive right to the edge of it. You could dive into it if you were foolish enough. You see things there you don’t see anywhere else in Monterey. Anywhere else anywhere, really. It’s spectacular.”

  “I’d love to see it,” Hudson told him.

  “Come with us,” Ben suggested.

  Hudson shook his head. “Remember the part about it not being a good idea for new divers?” he said. “Besides, things will be tense enough as it is.”

  “Good point,” Ben said. “Well, we’ll go one of these days.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” Hudson said as he stood up. “And now I’m going to go home, take a shower, and ...” He stopped. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do,” he concluded.

  “Dinner tonight?” Ben asked.

  “You’re on,” said Hudson. He rinsed his coffee mug in the sink, then came over and gave Ben a kiss. “Have fun with your future son-in-law.”

  Ben glared at him and Hudson hurried out. As Ben heard the door close he suddenly felt very much alone. Some of the old fears began creeping out from under doorways and scuttling out of corners where they’d been hiding, as if Hudson had been a talisman keeping them at bay. Now, without him, Ben was vulnerable.

  He got up and started to wash the dishes, hoping it would help distract him. When it didn’t, he turned his thoughts to the upcoming dive with Caddie and Brian. He hadn’t dived Monastery in a while. He tried to recall what he’d seen on his last visit to the site, and what they might see today.

  Flabellina trilineata, he thought. Dendronotus albus, Tritonia festiva, Mexichromis amalguae. He saw each nudibranch as he named it. Thordisa bimaculata. You’re a homosexual. Aldisa cooperi. You can’t live that way. Melibe leonina. Faggot.

  He dropped the coffee mug he was washing—Hudson’s coffee mug. It hit the edge of the sink and broke, the pieces clattering to the floor. Ben stared at them as the shadows crept closer, their mewling voices clawing at him.

  The ringing of the phone came as a great relief. He lurched for the handset, grabbing it in his soapy hand and nearly dropping it. “Hello?” he said, his voice overly loud in the quiet kitchen.