Winter Heart

by B. G. Thomas

  Wyatt was hungry. And he wanted some coffee. A warm little tickle formed in his heart, and he realized it was desire. Not sexual, but a desire to do something. To take care of himself, even if it was only to make himself something to eat and start a pot of coffee.

  So he put some water and a filter in his little coffee maker and opened his bag of coffee from The Shepherd’s Bean and was startled to see beans gleaming oilily inside. Beans. Shit. How had he done that? He’d forgotten to grind them and left his grinder at home—and wasn’t it fortunate that was one of the things he’d gotten in the divorce? Howard had only ever liked Maxwell House. Hell, when camping Howard liked Taster’s Choice! But it was at home, which did Wyatt no good and meant a morning without coffee. Shit!

  But he wasn’t going to let that get to him, and no coffee didn’t mean no caffeine. He grabbed a can of cola from his cooler. Then he plugged in his (ridiculously small) microwave—it really wasn’t much bigger than a breadbox—got the half-dozen egg container from the same cooler where he’d gotten the soda, cracked a couple into a coffee cup (might as well use it for something), stirred them up, and placed the cup in the microwave. One minute and he stirred them again, hit them for one more minute, and with some shredded cheese, he had a decent little breakfast. Microwaving had been his secret way of making some of the fluffiest scrambled eggs ever. It was a trick his mother taught him.

  Quite suddenly he realized he had to go to the bathroom, and this was no peeing-off-the-porch kind of thing. He dreaded using the probably near ice-cold porta potty down the road and wondered if the water to the dining hall was shut off like it was to the shower house. It wouldn’t hurt to check. He knew he’d better hurry, though.

  So he shrugged into his coat, scrambled down the steps, and dashed down the path. Just as he was passing the last cabin, the caretaker’s cabin, which was across the road from the guest cabins, he heard laughter and veered off to see if Gryphon or Saffron were out. Sure enough, even in this cold, they were sitting on their miniature patio and drinking what smelled like coffee.

  Coffee. Gods….

  Not important right now!

  “Hey, guys,” he called, waving.

  They both looked up to see him standing above them. “Hey, Wyatt!” said Saffron with a big grin.

  “Morning, Little Bear,” Gryphon replied.

  Wyatt began to dance. “Ummm… ah… guys? Ah… I was wonder… wondering… is the bathroom in the dining hall working?”

  Saffron nodded, stood, and gave a toss of her head. “Sure. But don’t worry about that. Come on down.” She had the door open before he got there, and he shot past her and straight to their little bathroom. He knew where it was, naturally. He’d gotten high with Gryphon at many a Men’s Fest.

  Five minutes later he returned to the patio to join his friends, now a very happy camper—literally. The gods really smiled on him.

  “Would you like some coffee, Wyatt?” Saffron asked.

  “Would I!” He did a second little dance—this one a happy dance. He loved Saff. Loved that she never wore makeup. Loved her big smiles and her dimples and her blue-green eyes and her Beatles haircut that seemed almost hacked into shape rather than done by any beautician. And her spirit, of course—her soul.

  A moment later he was drinking some most excellent joe from a big old mug and forgetting all about being by himself. They had a fire pit going, and even though it was so small it was cute, it was kicking out a nice amount of heat.

  “You have a nice night’s sleep?” Gryphon asked.

  Wyatt nodded happily and took another sip of deliciousness. “I did. I really did!”

  “Glad to hear it,” Saffron said. “You wouldn’t be interested in something to eat, would you?”

  “I already ate—”

  “It’s my homemade bread,” she said. “With my blackberry jam.”

  Wyatt sat up straight. “Blackberries from up top?”

  She grinned. “Of course. Why would I use any others?”

  Wyatt nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please!”

  They were eating when Gryphon broke the news. “Oh! Guess what? Our other guest who’s arriving today? He’s a Men’s Fest-er.”

  Wyatt looked at Gryphon, startled. “Huh? Really?” What the hell kind of coincidence was that?

  “Don’t worry,” Gryphon assured him. “I told him you wanted to be left alone….”

  “Who?” Wyatt asked. Yes, he wanted to be alone. But he couldn’t help but be curious. Who would it be? Gods, please not Howard! Or Naked Ned. He shuddered.

  “Hodor,” Gryphon told him.

  Wyatt’s mouth dropped open. His eyebrows shot up.

  Hodor? Had he said Hodor? Hodor, of all people?

  Wyatt saw him then. Almost as clearly as if he were right here, standing over him. Looking down at him with shining brown eyes. The man who had come to him in a vision on Yule….

  Except he didn’t come to you on Yule.

  Except he did.

  Wyatt was sure of it.

  “Wyatt?”

  He looked back over at his friends.

  “I really don’t think he’ll bother you.”

  Wyatt shrugged. “He’s a nice guy,” he said. And that was followed by another thought. Hodor, what are you doing here?

  Quite suddenly he felt afraid, even though it didn’t make a bit of sense. Why would he be afraid? He wasn’t afraid of Hodor, was he? Why would he be afraid of the quiet gentle giant?

  In the vision Hodor was about to kiss him. Had kissed him.

  Wyatt shoved the last three bites worth of bread into his mouth all at once and stood. “I’m gonna go back to my cabin.” Except it didn’t sound like that with a mouth full of bread and blackberry jam. He didn’t wait to finish chewing but nodded at his friends and walked away.

  Quickly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  KEVIN GOT to Camp right around noon on Tuesday. He had tried to drive straight through but had gotten very tired sometime after midnight. The lights of the oncoming trucks had begun to hypnotize him, and he knew that driving into a ditch or dying was not the journey he was wanting to take.

  Luckily he saw the little sign, pulled off the highway, and stayed at some pretty much nameless place—literally; the sign said only Motel in big sky-blue neon letters—and slept for about five hours. He took the time to get a mostly hot shower—it was nothing like his magic shower at home, but hey, a shower was a shower—and grabbed a breakfast burrito at that state’s (he wasn’t exactly sure which state he was in at that point) version of a convenience store. It was pretty bad, but at least he had something in his stomach.

  And then he kept driving. He had a big bladder.

  He did stop at the Walmart close to Camp and picked up some things he would need. Food, of course—he found a six-pack of small breakfast steaks, some precooked chicken wings at the deli, some sandwich makings, bread, and a few other things. He even picked up a couple of small propane canisters for his stove. While he was at it, he found a space heater. It wasn’t very expensive, and since he wasn’t sure how reliable the ones that had been in the basement of the camp’s main hall would be, he figured it might be a good idea. On a whim he bought some big pillar candles. He liked the scent of fresh linen, and they had several of those. But then he saw there were some on sale. Christmas leftovers. Forest-green candles with a pine scent. They claimed to be “real” pine scent. He had no idea why, but the compulsion was too great. He grabbed a couple of those as well.

  Gryphon greeted him in the parking lot with a big hug as soon as he got to Sanctuary and helped him get his stuff to the first cabin on the trail leading north from the main complex of the camp’s buildings. Kevin couldn’t help but look farther down that way. Around the bend was N2 and then N3, where Wyatt was staying.

  His heart sped up.

  Why am I feeling this way?

  Why couldn’t he get Wyatt out of his mind? He thought he might have dreamed about him last night.

  Kev
in had this image of big sweet brown eyes and the ghost of a feeling of soft full lips on his own. The sensation seemed so real, he reached up and touched his mouth as he stood there on the path outside his cabin.

  Yes, he’d admired the little guy for years. Loved Wyatt’s gregariousness. His hilarious acts during the Know Talent Show every year. His crazy antics and wild T-shirts. He’d envied Howard on more than one occasion, wondered what it would be like to have the little ball of energy and light in his life. Thought that energy was wasted on Howard. Wondered what it might be like to cuddle with Wyatt on the beach or even in his tent.

  And yes, Kevin had even had the opportunity once. He remembered clearly one night when Wyatt, who was quite drunk, made a huge pass at him. Wyatt had walked up to him, a full head shorter or more, looked up at him, placed a hand on his chest (Kevin’s heart had raced beneath that hand), and then stood up on tiptoes and tried to kiss him. It had taken a lot of willpower to turn the little bear—Little Bear—away. To resist the opportunity to see what it was like to kiss those lips, those eyes. To make love to him.

  But Wyatt had been drunk. Kevin hadn’t wanted a drunk Wyatt. He wanted Wyatt in his full faculties. He would have hated it if the object of his little fantasy woke up and didn’t even remember their night. That would have hurt.

  Yet it was more than that.

  Wyatt belonged—or had belonged—to Howard. Kevin didn’t fool around with “married” men. It didn’t matter that the two of them had an open relationship, that it wouldn’t be cheating as far as they were concerned. It would be cheating to Kevin. Even if the only person being “cheated” was Kevin himself. He knew that if he had one taste of Wyatt, he would want more. And more is what he couldn’t have. It would hurt too much to make love with Wyatt and then have him get up and return to his husband’s bed.

  Howard was a fool for sharing Wyatt. Kevin never would. If the little bear was his, he would keep him close. Close in his arms and close in his heart. Make Wyatt his once and forever. He would treat Wyatt right. He would cherish him. He would make it so Wyatt didn’t need anyone else. Or want anyone else. Or….

  “You all right, Hodor?” Gryphon asked.

  His words yanked Kevin from his thoughts—foolish thoughts—and he turned his face away from the path and what lay beyond.

  “Fine,” he said.

  They went into the cabin. Unlike the few he’d been in for a cocktail party or late-night coffee klatch, this one was divided into two distinct halves. They entered a tiny foyer-like area, and there were sliding doors to either side. Gryphon led him through the one on the left, and Kevin was immediately and pleasantly surprised how warm the small room was. He spotted the two space heaters that were merrily doing their jobs.

  “Good?” asked Gryphon, quickly closing the foyer door so as not to let out the heat.

  “Awesome,” he answered.

  Gryphon laughed. “You know, it occurred to me the other day when I hung up with you that you had said more words in our little phone conversation than I’ve ever heard you use. And today, even though you haven’t said ‘Hodor’ even once, you’re back to being a man of few words.”

  Kevin shrugged by way of an answer. He didn’t even want to say that word he was so well known for at Camp. Because that was Men’s Festival. This was something different.

  He just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

  “Okay.” Gryphon squeezed his shoulder. “I’m going to leave you now.”

  Kevin nodded. Because that’s what he wanted, right? To be alone? To get away from the city? And Cauley’s things. From responsibilities he hadn’t asked for. And buildings that wanted to fall down on him.

  Why had Cauley done it? Why had he given him the responsibility? He had enough on his plate just dealing with his ex’s death.

  Death!

  God.

  He trembled. What was the world going to be like without Cauley in it?

  But then he caught himself looking out the window. The one that looked north. To where Wyatt was.

  What the hell is going on with me? Thinking about Wyatt now? When he had other things he needed to deal with.

  He closed his eyes and turned away.

  I am here to get away.

  And that’s what I am going to do.

  Stay away.

  So Kevin set up the room, chose one of the four narrow beds—not much more than cots really; he’d heard they were hand-me-downs from a local prison—made it, put his food away, and made a quick little trip to the dining hall to check the ice-storage machine. He was in luck. Even though it was winter, there were a few bags of ice, and he grabbed one, stuck his dollar fifty in the “We Trust You” box (he actually put in two dollars, fifty cents for a good cause) and put it in his cooler back in the cabin. For the nonce he even placed that in the little foyer. Keep his food nice and cold. He’d bring it inside before he went to bed to make sure nothing froze solid.

  He picked some soft music on his iPod, set it playing, and plopped down on the bed with his copy of Leap and the Net Will Appear! Every time he read it, he found something he hadn’t seen before. It was the perfect book for this getaway. Get him inside his own mind instead of thinking about a little bear not far down the path….

  Stop!

  He turned the book over, looked at the back, read the brief description of the author. Kevin would never forget meeting him. He’d been surprised at how young Malcolm Kane was. For some reason Kevin had expected a much older man. The author had collected so much wisdom in a relatively short life. Standing there, waiting for his turn to get his book signed, he’d almost fled several times—might have if Theresa hadn’t been there, arm looped through his. Luckily he’d had a great excuse not to say much. The line had been long, with plenty of people waiting their turn. Kevin had told the author his name so it could be included in the autograph (although that hadn’t really mattered to him), and that was about it. Except for thanks. He kept it to that because he was afraid he might have started gushing otherwise.

  Kevin turned the book back to the simple front cover and then decided to start from the beginning. He even loved the introduction. Kevin propped himself up on his elbows, opened the book, and began to read.

  But then…

  He looked over his shoulder and out the north-facing window as if he could see the cabin that was up the rise and around a bend in the trail.

  Wyatt. So close. And yet so far.

  God.

  Malcolm would not approve.

  But then another thought came.

  Maybe he would.

  Wasn’t the whole point of the author’s mission to get people to trust—to take a chance? To leap and believe the Universe would provide?

  Should I?

  It wouldn’t hurt just to walk down the path, would it? Hey! Maybe he could stroll down to Pax Place.

  So he did. He put the book down, shrugged back into his coat, left the cabin, and started up the path.

  Kevin heard the music first. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before. Here he was, hadn’t even reached N2, the second cabin along the path, and he could hear it already. Loud.

  That would be Wyatt all right. Kevin smiled.

  Sweet little Wyatt.

  He smiled, stopped, and imagined Wyatt dancing around his cabin—probably wearing pink—raising an imaginary glass, shaking his hips, singing at the top of his lungs about being wrong in all the right ways. And could Wyatt be anything but loud?

  You don’t have any business bothering him. None at all.

  Right then he knew that if he headed up that path and did whatever the fuck he was planning on doing—or not planning—it would be wrong.

  Wyatt had been with Howard for a long time. That man—that turd—had hurt Wyatt. Why else would he be here at Sanctuary? Why, Gryphon had told him, hadn’t he? Wyatt wanted to be alone.

  And alone is what Wyatt was going to be.

  Which was for the best.

  Because Kevin needed to be alone as well. He
needed to think things through. Decide what was next in his life. Because he was alive, wasn’t he? Cauley was the one who had died, not him.

  Kevin nodded.

  Yes. Being alone was what they both needed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  WYATT PLAYED his music. He played it loud. He played it so it would drown out the voices.

  (“Goddammit, Wy! Could you be a bigger faggot?”

  “Tell Him you are no longer a sodomite and fornicator. Tell Him you renounce your faggotry!”

  “The only reason you get laid is because of me. I tell them they have to have sex with you if they want me.”

  “And you’re never going to last! Two faggots can’t make a home…. How can two men—two sodomites—make a nest?”

  “Fuck you, Wyatt! You’re nothing but a clingy, jealous little bitch!”)

  He turned the music up louder…. But the music, no matter how loud he played it, didn’t drown out the visions.

  Hodor standing over him… looking down at him with amazing brown eyes… touching him… bending down to kiss him!

  Gods. Hodor? Coming here? Today?

  What could it mean?

  It had to mean something, didn’t it? What were the odds? Hundreds of people came to Camp Sanctuary. Thousands. But how many showed up during the off-season? How many asked, other than on the Sabbats, if they could come stay at Camp while it was more or less closed?

  It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

  His heart was racing.

  Wyatt grabbed his bearskin and wrapped it around himself and stepped out onto the cabin’s little porch. The second stove took up most of the space; it wasn’t a sitting-down-in-a-rocking-chair kind of porch. There was enough room for him to stand there, though. Stand and look off to his left, southward down the path. To where Hodor might be, even now.