Author: lucel
Pairing: Greg/Richard
LS Song Challenge, April 2004
Nobody knows, not even you, when I first started walking on wings;
But how long can anyone ever, ever hope to hide
Love that’s locked up inside?
Every story worth spinning must have a beginning…
Once I had a secret love that lived within the heart of me;
All too soon my secret love became impatient to be free.
Just how wonderful you are and why I’m so in love with you.
Now I shout it from the highest hills, even told the golden daffodils:
At last my heart’s an open door, and my secret love’s no secret any more!
Lyrics: Paul Francis Webster Music: Sammy Fain
The dawn had finally
arrived: little fingers of golden light
were touching the daffodil displays and reaching down and out to the freshening
surf of the Pacific. High up on the
grass of the
Soon the little white
courtesy wagon would wind its way up the mountain to serve a steady stream of
coffee, bagels, muffins, soft drinks, sandwiches, and burritos to observatory
staff, construction workers, students, and visitors until public closing at 6
pm. The truck full of construction
workers would follow, then everyone else.
Greg’s light brown eyes enjoyed the daffodils blooming in great artistic
clumps among the dark evergreen. He thought
of blond hair and started humming to himself.
The vendor wagon pulled up
with a clank and parked for business.
Soon those inside had created counters and awnings, with covered plates
of food on display. A young man jumped
down from the truck in worn tee-shirt and jeans, a well-used backpack slung
jaunty on one shoulder, a colorless UCLA windbreaker tied to a strap.
“Thanks for the ride, Jose,”
he said flipping his longish blond hair out of his face. “I’ll be around if you need any more help,
today.” His blue eyes lit up as Jose
tossed him a muffin and a carton of milk.
“You work hard, Richard. Come see me at noon; maybe I have work for
you,” said Jose with a smile.
Greg stood up and watched
the young man covertly as he climbed the stairs up to the huge entrance doors
and pushed. He was fine featured,
lightly tanned, and carried his five feet ten inches like a young dancer, all
knobby knees and long muscles. Greg
thought he looked too thin and tired.
When the young man realized it was too early for public entry, he sat on
the sunny steps to inhale the muffin.
His glance crossed Greg’s, and he smiled and nodded, then blushed when
Greg smiled back and began walking towards him.
“Good morning,” Greg
said. “It’s early for public
access. Are you a student? Here to sign up for the new class in black
holes? I know I see you here regularly,
but not in any of my classes. I’m Greg
Markham, Observatory Director, so I do a bit of everything…”
“Richard Thompson, Sir,” the
younger man jumped up to answer. “I’m
majoring in Fine and Studio Arts. I’ve
been up here doing research into the colors and shapes of space, which I want
to use in my semester art project.”
“Maybe you could tell me
about it in more detail a little later,” Greg responded. “Drop by my office so we can find a
time. I think I could suggest an imaging
series that would help.”
As bright blue eyes looked up
into warm brown, Richard found himself very aware of his shabby appearance next
to the young professor, whose six foot three inches looked strong, toned, and
well turned out in the dark blue UCLA running suit. All he could think of to say was “Thanks,
Professor Markham, I will.”
Whistling now, Greg turned to
get some breakfast from Jose, leaving Richard to wander aimlessly to the side
of the observatory where the new education wing was being constructed. Without realizing it, Richard, too, started
humming: What was that song? He was sure he knew it, and it sure did fit
the glorious early morning view!
Glancing at the portable fencing surrounding the site, Richard was
thrilled to notice a stray hard hat leaning against the fence. He sidled over to it and very nonchalantly
picked it up before proceeding to the front of the grassy area.
Richard did not notice he had
Greg’s furtive and fascinated attention.
Why would Richard want a hard hat?
Greg traded greetings with Jose while they both watched. The truck full of lucky day workers turned
into the parking area and pulled up to the construction site. Smitty, the day worker boss, jumped down from
the cab to open the padlock to the temporary buildings. Workers climbed down to take advantage of
Jose’s early morning preparations. Soon
Smitty called his Number Two over to pass out hard hats from the shed. As each man passed through the gate, he
picked up a hat, then checked in with Smitty’s clipboard to be sure he was on
the list to be paid.
Greg was amused to see
Richard, hat already pulled down over his blond hair, slip into the line
checking in with Smitty. When Smitty did
not find his name, he added Richard to the list and sent him in to a work
station. Greg looked at Jose and both
men laughed at Richard’s sneaky way of joining the work crew for the day. If he had tried at the hiring place, he would
have had to pay fees to the bullies controlling who got to sign for the few day
jobs around.
Handing an extra five dollars
to Jose, Greg said, “Make sure he has something to eat at noon, O.K.? And let him think it’s from you…” Jose knew
Greg meant the young blond.
“O.K., Greg, if you say so…
Have a great day!” Jose promised as he
whistled Greg’s catchy song while he made burritos.
Pulling out his keys, Greg
walked up to the huge doors and let himself into the building. He would probably have just enough time to
change and finish his coffee before the board members were due with the architect
to look at the construction site. He
found himself whistling that song again… what were the words? It was driving him nuts, something about a
“secret love.” He thought it was from
some movie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The construction meeting was
not going well. The two advance Board
members, Henry and Mel, had not expected to be clambering over the construction
site in the heavy sunshine of deep spring.
They were not interested in how the work was being done; they wanted to
know how the addition was going to look in the
Greg listened, responded, and
approved, but his eyes followed a young jean-clad figure as he loaded debris,
joked with the other workers, and tried to answer a question put to him by one
of he Board members. Greg could see
Richard’s muscles move as he strained to push his wheelbarrow up the incline to
the dumpster. Greg started whistling
again, words just popping into his head:
“Once I had a secret love… that lived within the heart of me…” He really
had to get a grip, he had not heard that last question. “Is it all right if I break away now to talk
to Smitty about the blueprints,” David was asking.
“Sure, go ahead. Use anything you need to set up for the
meeting. Is there any way I can help?”
Greg answered. He noticed some of the
day workers on break had pulled out a guitar and were gathered around one of
the picnic tables singing in Spanish:
damned if it didn’t sound like that song running through his head…
“No, just keep the Board guys
away until 1 p.m., O.K.? I have a lot of good stuff for them down at our
offices, but I didn’t know they wanted that kind of meeting up here,” said a
disgusted David. He headed toward
Smitty’s trailer whistling Greg’s song.
Suddenly the whistling became words floating back to Greg in the clear
morning air, “All too soon my secret love became impatient to be freeeee…”
Later, walking into the
meeting room with five minutes to spare, Greg was marveling over what had just
happened. After an unremarkable sandwich
tray lunch sent up from university kitchens over on main campus, Greg had
talked the two Board members through a display of one of their more recent sets
of distant star images. James kept all
of the images organized for the observatory, and Greg had arranged with him to
have a selection of unnamed stars available for their visitors to name. They would get a certificate to commemorate
the event.
Mel chose a pretty blue star
to be named for his daughter, Jenny, and Henry picked a red star to be named
for his prize border collie, Ralph. The
third slide was a yellow star somewhat like Sol. To Greg it seemed to shimmer with good
spirits, casting its golden glow over every heavenly body in the picture field
as well as the darkened viewing room.
When James started to shuffle it away and turn off the equipment, Greg
surprised himself and everyone else by all but shouting, “Wait! I want to name that one. Please call it ‘Richard Thompson’, and James,
make sure I get the certificate noting location as well!”
Greg had to laugh. He had been thinking of Richard all week,
certainly since this morning out on the hillside! No wonder “Secret Love” had been on his mind
all day. What were the words—“Now I
shout it from the highest hills, even told the golden daffodils”— it must have
been the flowers. Well, he would find
him at the end of the meeting and invite him for dinner, maybe give him the
star certificate, and who knows…
David had arranged the
meeting room so his visuals were sitting on easels in front of the group. All attention was on the three drawings in
the center: first, a beautiful but
accurate rendition of the main observatory building with the completed
Education Wing now balancing the building to the south. Next to that was an aerial view showing all
the drama of the park-like setting on the mountaintop overlooking the sea.. The third showed smaller drawings of a
classroom, an assembly hall, and an area for studying images from the big
telescope.
Greg knew David had just
pulled the drawings together, but they were so polished that the presentation
seemed well-organized and professional despite the tattered blue prints and
hand written facts and figures on the giant easel pad. The Board seemed satisfied, complimented
David on the presentation, and promised Greg all the financial support the
project would need to finish on time or possibly early.
“That was great, David, you
really pulled it off for us,” said Greg as he shut the Conference Room
door. “In fact, I’d like to get your
artist’s renditions framed for the foyer so everyone knows what we’re doing
here, if that’s all right with you?”
David laughed. “Well, you’ll have to consult with the artist
for that, and I’m sorry to say that it wasn’t me!”
“What? But I thought you were
going to…”
“Well, I was, but Smitty
reminded me we had a resident artist on staff for the day. That blond art student, Richard, did it in
your office over lunch time using me and the blueprints for reference. He did a much better job than I ever could,
and he was glad to be drawing instead of picking up concrete trash on the
site. I left him happily eating his
lunch on your sofa.” The men were still
talking as they pushed into Greg’s office.
Both stopped to admire the view.
Richard was curled up asleep on Greg’s black leather sofa, the remains
of one of Jose’s best burritos on the coffee table.
David took one look at Greg’s
face, dumped the folders he was carrying on Greg’s credenza, and smiled
knowingly at his friend. “Maybe you
should finish that song you’ve got everyone singing,” David said on his way
out.
Greg finally moved over to
the sofa and touched Richard gently on the shoulder. The young man woke with a start, immediately
sitting up when he realized he had been sleeping on Greg’s sofa. Greg could not resist the slightly muddled and
sleepy look Richard gave him. Kissing
him gently on full soft lips, Greg soon had his arms full of warm sleepy boy,
whose blue eyes were full of amazement and delight.
“I thought we could get some
dinner together,” Greg said. “It’s
quitting time for day workers, and I can leave early… I want to tell you about
the song that’s been in my head for some time now…”
The Beginning