Piecing Together His Life Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  By Jon Keys

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Piecing Together His Life

  By Jon Keys

  Real estate broker Colin Romu has been estranged from his family for many years, but an unfinished quilt bequeathed in his mother’s will might help him make peace. Seeking solitude, Colin heads for his isolated cabin in upstate New York, but a sudden blizzard lands him in a ditch instead. Fortunately local EMT Mason Doyle is on hand with a rescue and a place to stay until the storm blows over. As they contemplate Colin’s mother’s last gift, they realize their lives entwine in ways they never imagined.

  Chapter One

  COLIN PACED the attorney’s office hallway while he waited. He covered the distance so many times that people stopped noting his passage. But he refused to allow anyone to affect his routine. His years as a realtor had let him develop an attitude that served him well, and living in Manhattan for the past decade gave him a unique perspective on life.

  He gathered his thoughts before making another trip through the law firm his family had used since his grandparents moved to the suburb of Jericho. But Morris and Associates’ longevity didn’t figure into his quest as he studied each unoccupied space that might work for a neutral location. He had hoped letting his brother and sister care for their mother’s final wishes would give them the sense of command they seemed to need. Colin wasn’t surprised when they disappointed him again by failing to present an alternative. Maybe it was only fair, since he had disillusioned them a multitude of times after he told them he was gay at his sixteenth birthday party.

  “Let me get you some coffee. We have at least forty different flavors of those little cup things. It’s not bad either.”

  Colin recognized the voice as belonging to Thomas Morris, son of the firm’s founder and currently one of their senior partners. He was also a strikingly handsome man with immaculately groomed salt-and-pepper hair Colin wished he could emulate. “That would be great. My brother and sister are pulling their normal posturing… for whom, I’m not certain.”

  Thomas motioned one of the office workers close and whispered instructions, then turned back. Colin gave him a faint bow. “Thomas, you’ve been my family’s attorney for years. I’m sure you’ve seen it all already.”

  Before the silence became awkward, the associate sent for coffee materialized with mugs of steaming dark liquid. Colin accepted the cup and let the heat seep into his hands and enjoyed the effect it had on his stiff joints. He’d found that happened more now that he’d passed the big four-oh.

  After a short time, he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, which confirmed what his nose already told him: this was a fine hot chocolate. He lifted the mug toward Thomas. “Good choice. I have developed a taste for coffee, but Mexican hot chocolate takes me back to when I was a kid. The nip of cinnamon and a bite of chili…. Just delicious.”

  Thomas nodded as he drank from a matching cup. The same young man who’d brought the chocolate signaled from the door.

  “It was your mother’s recipe. I thought it was an appropriate choice.” He motioned to an open door ahead of them. “Your brother and sister have arrived. One of my associates will bring them to the conference room. We have several items to cover.”

  Colin nodded, stepped through the entry, and found a seat.

  The people who joined them a few minutes later were the textbook definition of New England aristocracy. To Colin they represented another way his family deserted him when he needed support the most. His brother, Franklin, and his sister, Madison, had ostracized him at every opportunity and made it clear they were made of much sterner stuff than Colin. He shook himself, knowing the days of him being part of this family had evaporated decades ago. They gave him a chilly acknowledgment, turning when Thomas entered with a stack of paperwork. After a few minutes organizing his files, he turned to the siblings.

  “Your mother had a wide variety of assets, both from your father and those she amassed herself. This distribution is complex, and I expect it to take several hours. Before we begin, does anyone have questions?”

  Colin followed Thomas’s gaze as he looked at each person. His brother and sister had held that same expression of underfed jackals for as long as he could remember. He knew their inheritance was their focus. Colin had been out of the country when their mother passed away. He would have known none of this if it weren’t for a condition in her will requiring all three children to be present at the reading. He wasn’t terribly surprised. It was a replay of his graduation from Princeton.

  Colin had considered refusing to come, just to be the rust in their well-oiled machine. He contemplated it for several days too. Then the time came when he realized his purpose for going was to put the pieces of his life together, and the reading of his mother’s will was his best chance.

  Since there were no questions, Thomas started the formal reading of the will. Early in the process, Colin realized the assets were not broken up as he expected. He’d thought everything of value would be divided between his siblings. Instead the vast majority of the money went to a dozen or so charities. Colin’s world shifted in a major way when the Trevor Project and the It Gets Better Project received major contributions.

  Some of my father’s wealth as an investment banker has been used to support LGBTQ+ kids. My mother had to know those contributions would have him turning over in his grave.

  Franklin and Madison’s reactions became the highlight of the event. They wore the look of someone who had finished a glass of lime juice. It would likely take hundreds of dollars of Botox to reverse how much today’s meeting aged them. By the time they were an hour into the process, it took a great deal of control for Colin to keep from laughing. Neither of his siblings would be leaving with the same quantity of processed hair as they arrived with. As the legal meanderings continued, he realized his mother had sprinkled in a few tidbits to keep the others engaged, giving them enough to keep from storming out.

  The reading worked through the various bits of paperwork, and they were down to only a few thin folders. Colin wasn’t surprised to receive nothing. He wasn’t hoping for valuables, but rather clues as to why she had broken all connections with him.

  He realized Thomas had reviewed the last piece of paper and was motioning to the same young associate he’d called on earlier. They talked at a soft whisper before he darted out of the conference room and Thomas turned back to them.

  “We have one final item that Joe is retrieving. Are there questions?”

  Again the response was utter silence that lasted the short time before the associate returned. In Joe’s arms was a large box, the kind used for work boots. Colin’s recollection of it came into focus when Joe set the package in front of him. The well-worn cardboard brought a final memory for Colin.

  Before he could say anything, Thomas began his explanation. “Colin, your mother wanted you to have this. It’s the quilt she was finishing when she passed away.”

  He traced his finger over the box’s edge, worn smooth by a hundred touches over the years. The scenes of him standing at her side while they worked on piecing together another of his mother’s creations drifted through Colin’s mind. His memories of her describing the quilts the women of her family created were among his most dear. The emotions built inside him as he lifted the top and found the box filled with all the components of a traditional pieced quilt.

  “Thank God she didn�
�t think I needed any of that crap.”

  Colin stopped at his brother’s words and snapped the lid into place. As he turned to them, his sister cackled. “Maybe the housekeeper could use them for dustrags.”

  Colin’s anger blossomed almost out of control, and he was seconds away from unleashing his acerbic tongue. He clamped his mouth shut and closed his eyes for a few seconds. After opening them, he glanced around the room. Colin nodded at the attorney. “Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate your help in this.”

  He stood, swept the box under one arm, and made his way out of the building to his car. As he roared out the entrance and down the roadway, his focus changed to his cabin in the Finger Lakes.

  Chapter Two

  THE COMBINATION of high winds and snow left Colin with an ever-tightening grip. The intensity of the storm made his typical four-hour trip closer to eight. He obsessed about his day, even though his attention should have been on the rapidly approaching blizzard. By the time he reached Exit 79 off I-81, visibility dropped to a few feet. Worse, the ravine-lined rural highway had become close to impassible.

  He’d driven within a handful of miles of his cabin when the blizzard broke into a beast with new ferocity. The snow became a swirling horizontal wall of white, and he no longer had any sign of where the edge of the road hid in the growing drifts.

  Damn it! Now I wish I’d stayed in the city. But after spending the day dealing with my family, a man-killer whiteout is preferable.

  A fierce gust of wind slammed into the side of Colin’s car and sent it fishtailing across the roadway. As he fought for control, he hit a few feet of unglazed road. Traction ripped the vehicle back into the center of the blacktop. Colin gathered his thoughts and continued on his way.

  The storm lessened, at least to where he was able to make out the dark blur along each side of the road. He relaxed his grip. In the distance behind him, he believed he detected the dim glow of another pair of headlights.

  The winter furies of the early storm slammed into him, almost ripping the wheel from his grip. The route became even more treacherous as his car swerved and fishtailed with each curve. Wipers did nothing more than smear the blinding snow and icy bits across the windshield, removing any chance of seeing the path he worked so hard to locate. The road ahead of him twisted like a copperhead.

  He went into a spin that brought tires squealing over snow-packed road, refusing to let him gain control again. He was thrown from one side to the other, beaten by the rampaging storm. Colin ground his teeth as panic filled his body. In the next second, he was airborne, with no idea what would be the result of the plummet. The car rolled once, the scream of overtaxed metal filling his ears. It sat at the road’s edge, rocking for what seemed like an eternity, then slid toward the bottom of the chasm. Colin’s head snapped forward, hitting the wheel with a vicious impact. Vertigo filled him and his world, then went black.

  MASON DOYLE had graduated ten years ago from Cornell with a degree in art. His parents wanted him to work at something more practical, something he could use to support himself until his art career provided all he needed to live on. To everyone’s surprise but Mason’s, his response to their suggestion was to get training as an EMT and work on his art when time allowed, and his fears of dealing with the entire art scene became less of a critical issue.

  Tonight he had been on call through the blizzard. His shift had been longer than usual because he covered for the other techs who couldn’t leave their homes because of the storm. On his way to his cabin, he realized the car in front of him was having difficulty navigating the winding roads and the icy conditions.

  The other driver reached a part of the road with a series of curves that challenged the best motorist under ideal conditions. They fishtailed through the first two curves but kept their vehicle out of the ditch. Mason tensed further with each passing second. He didn’t see how the car could maneuver the next few miles unscathed. The driver hit a treacherous section, and an instant later, their car was in an uncontrolled spin.

  Mason slowed further, struggling to avoid being swept into the accident. He swallowed bile as the disaster unfolded and the vehicle rotated again and disappeared. With a sinking sensation, Mason brought his pickup to a stop at the edge of a ravine. Red lights dimly flashed at the bottom. Once he was certain of the car’s position, he unloaded his rappelling gear. He had already prepared himself for the plummeting temperatures with layers of outdoor clothing he’d worn through his shift.

  Mason strapped himself into the climbing harness, making certain he had tied off to the bumper. Time slowed as he threaded a path down the embankment. Mason waited for momentary lulls in the storm to find his way to the dimly lit scene below. With great care, he moved nearer to the accident. When its dark form loomed close, he hesitated to approach the car, fearful of what he would find. But his training made it clear the accident victim’s chance of survival decreased with each passing minute.

  The car lay on its side in an enormous snowbank, leaving two windows as the only means of escape. Mason retrieved the survival shovel from his strapped-on gear and moved to save whoever was in the car. He dug down to the window until he was certain he could winch the driver out. He wiped his gloved hand over the glass and peered inside.

  His breath caught when the car’s single occupant lay still. Then he made a soft moan. Relieved to find him conscious, Mason banged on the window.

  “Hey! Can you roll down the window? It’ll keep me from busting it to get you out of there.”

  The man seemed confused and stared at Mason with a blank expression. Mason waited, hoping the driver would regain his orientation. The wind hit with renewed ferocity, and Mason hammered on the glass.

  “Open the window. We have to get you out of there.”

  This time there was more of a response, with the driver lowering the glass a few inches. He worked it until Mason got his arm inside the opening and reached the controls. A few seconds later, the window disappeared into the door. He heaved a sigh of relief as he leaned through the opening.

  “You okay? We need to get you out of this storm. I’m Mason. What’s your name?”

  The dazed man ran his tongue over his lips as he studied Mason for a few seconds. His ice blue eyes and wavy salt-and-pepper hair gave him a distinguished appearance. “I’m Colin. Just trying to get home, and the storm got me. Terrible ending to a bad day.”

  “You’re right, Colin. It’s a bad day to be out. Are you hurt? I think I can get you out of here with the winch of my truck.”

  Colin fumbled beside him until the seat belt snapped open, and he shifted his body several times. Once he seemed confident of his abilities, he looked at Mason.

  “I’ll be sore as hell tomorrow, but nothing seems broken. How are we going to make this happen? I’m almost certain I can’t climb out of here on a good day. In this snow there is no way I could make it up the embankment.”

  Mason nodded. “I’m an EMT and was on my way home when you spun out ahead of me. My truck has a winch, and I have a rescue harness to strap around you.”

  “Okay, let me know what to do.”

  Without wasting any time, Mason crawled up the snow-buried ravine to his truck. He spun out the cable from the winch and soon found himself back at the car. He leaned into the window, noticing snow settling inside.

  We have to get this done soon.

  Mason reached inside, grabbing Colin’s forearms.

  “Hang on tight. I’ll have you out in a jiffy.”

  He shot Colin a look he hoped the sexy blue-eyed man found comforting, braced his feet, and pulled. At first there was no movement, but as Mason used more of his ample musculature, they made slow progress. Even with the unabated storm crashing over them, Mason was certain he wouldn’t have a problem rescuing Colin from his car. He wrapped him in a thick wool blanket before maneuvering the harness over his shivering body. Mason double-checked the strap, then intertwined Colin’s hands with the rope.

  “Hold on right there. Unless I
tell you otherwise, all you have to do is hang on. The winch will do the work, and I’ll guide you up the ravine. Sit here, and we’ll be ready in a minute.”

  Mason made another check of the equipment before positioning himself beside Colin. With the rope in place, he started the winch. After a few seconds, it was obvious Colin was struggling through the ever-deepening snow.

  “Colin! Use your feet instead of just letting it drag you up,” Mason yelled. He thought he’d been understood above the storm. Regardless, progress improved.

  During Mason’s efforts, the storm’s assault intensified. By the time they climbed half the distance to the road, Colin’s lips were blue and his shivering made it impossible for him to help in his own rescue. Mason worked faster, the biting wind permeating every layer of protective clothing he wore. He knew the speed of the recovery was critical at this point before frostbite worked its damage on their bodies.

  Colin had curled into the fetal position and stopped making any movements. Mason’s focus turned to getting both of them inside the pickup with its healing heat. His labors were careful and precise, fighting the blizzard as he struggled to complete the rescue.

  Mason’s feet burned from the cold by the time he reached the top of the embankment. With his goal in reach, Mason sped up his efforts. He soon had Colin wrapped in layers of quilts in the warm pickup.

  Mason grabbed the broom he’d tossed into the bed of his truck when he left for work earlier. He ran it over his windows to wipe off the ice and snow, then threw it back into the bed and jumped into the heat-swathed cab. He checked around them, but the storm had knocked the visibility to a few dozen feet. After considering the conditions, they had no choice.

  “Look. There’s no way for us to survive the night in my truck. It’s only a few miles to where I live, and I think we can make the trip if we go slow.”

  Colin’s voice came from the top of the nest of quilts he was wrapped in. “Whatever you think is best. Please don’t make me get back into the storm. I’m just regaining sensation to my hands. If I start to panic because of the blizzard, I’ll close my eyes and keep them that way until you tell me otherwise.”