Jack was learning the important sanitary care, and Matt was performing the cleansing magic the travelers considered so important. It seemed to work; they didn't get sick very often, some of them not at all. Even the little kids seemed to have fewer runny noses than most children their age. Jack had always been fighting something off when he was small. It was good to see everyone around here generally so healthy.
Matt's magic was, of course, very welcome, but the main part of the health routine seemed to revolve around being out in the fresh air a great deal and taking great care with how they washed—a system of upstream and downstream washing, various bowls, boiled water and special care about undergarments not being mixed with outer garments.
Jack performed a quick wash-up just of himself, all the while thinking of Matt. He was so gorgeous without any clothes on, confident and sweet without seeming conscious of just how much he had to be proud of. Jack thought of his partner moving towards him, wearing that grin, his muscles a-bulge, his skin shining like warm honey, his hair golden even in dim candlelight. Ah, they were good together. In bed and out.
He finished washing himself, still with a special little smile on his face at the memories. He discarded the wash water carefully and then went out for his early morning ride. Matt might center himself for the day ahead by sitting quietly, breathing evenly, and letting himself soak in strength and calmness from the land around him, but Jack's new way to start a day was by giving care to the horses and riding.
He tried to do a reasonable amount of the necessary horse care, both to carry his weight among the travelers and because it helped him learn more all the time. The half-wild horse he'd first been curious about was now one of the calmer ones, and there were new horses all the time, some that needed special handling, others that were already practically perfect.
Lon and most of the other adults seemed to have a great knack for spotting a diamond in the rough when it came to animals, especially horses. Whether it was just a good eye, or a bit of magic in the family, Jack didn't know, but these days, when Lon let him tag along, he was starting to get a sense for which horses his uncle would trade for. The horse that was a bit skittish, or not being cared for well, or had a harness that didn't quite fit and was making him irritable—Lon had an almost preternatural ability to zone in on those horses. Without tricking anyone, he traded for good animals that needed someone who knew what they were doing to bring out the calm, hard-working horse in them. Lon seemed to have that ability, to find the good in any horse, and bring out its best.
Perhaps that's what he's doing with me, too, making the best of a bad lot.
He dismissed that thought immediately. His foolish insecurity again! No, Lon was happy with him, not making do. He was as proud to have a nephew as Jack was to have an uncle.
"Riding?" Petra tossed her curls and gave him a smile. She was just getting down from her own horse; must've left on an earlier ride than his, before the sun was up. Her tanned, strong body was slender and plump in all the right places. If he had found girls attractive, he would have been made very uncomfortable by her flirtatious grins, cousin or no.
"Yep. Thought I'd take Cleve." He named one of the newer horses, and her brows rose.
"Brave." She shook her head and started to take care of her horse, to fuss with his mane gently and take off his halter. "I'm telling Dad, of course." She turned and stuck her tongue out at him.
Jack grinned and returned the gesture.
Soon he was out riding peacefully, the sweet smells of cut hay drifting over from a nearby field. The sun was still too low to cause him to perspire. Instead, it made the world feel lit up cozily, like a mystery unfolding the day. He felt like anything was possible.
Jack sat up high on Cleve's back, guiding the horse with his knees, proud of how well he was doing. It wasn't a conscious sort of pride, but more an inward rejoicing, an awareness of his body working with and in tune to the creature under him, and Cleve happy in the new day, trusting him, understanding him, all without words or even a touch of the reins. He liked that; it was as amazing a feeling as tearing apart an engine and putting it back together without leaving out one single part.
"Time to head back," he told the horse softly, reaching down to pat its neck. They'd neared the village now, and he didn't like to ride through town. It felt too much like showing off, to ride such a magnificent creature bareback through town. Besides, he only liked going through town to look for work. More and more, he needed the freedom of the open spaces, the comfort of nature. The villages felt too hemmed in, with their houses and streets and taverns.
And also, just as importantly, Cleve was not yet safe around loud noises or angry barking dogs. When Lon traded for Cleve, he was considered a menace to civilized society, unfit for cart or stall, kicking wildly at any loud noise. Now, the horse was much calmer, but Jack didn't think he should push his luck by forcing Cleve to confront things that had frightened him in the past.
So Jack was just starting to turn back when he saw ahead something that made his heart leap up and then die a little, sinking low like a drowning cat.
It was Matt.
Walking away with two tall, strapping men with blond hair. One could see at a glance their resemblance to him and each other. They had to be two of Matt's many older brothers. They even walked alike: broad-shouldered, sturdy, beautiful men unconscious of their charm. Their arms were around Matt, one on either side. A small dog frolicked at their ankles, looking up adoringly at Matt, clearly trying to get closer. But his brothers stuck closer yet.
They were taking him away. That was Jack's first thought, and for a long time, his only one.
They're taking him home—where he belongs.
All the insecurity from last night and from many other times rushed back in an instant, leaving him frozen. Cold sweat stood out on his upper lip, and he felt like he was hardly breathing.
Cleve shifted a little, his shoulder twitching, uncertain what he should do. His ears flicked to listen to Jack, trying to get an understanding. That was excellent progress; a month ago he'd have bucked and run, taken advantage of any hesitation in his rider.
Jack reached down to pat him absently. Then he steered with his knees, turning them back towards home.
Home.
But maybe not Matt's anymore.
He drew to a halt near the traveler camp, staring ahead, not bothering to dismount. It no longer mattered where he was or what he did. He was thinking too hard, too painfully. Cleve ripped up a mouthful of grass and began to chew. He was a good horse; he wouldn't leave.
Lon strode over, his steps firm and long. He was wiping his hands on a clean cloth, bright red with yellow stitching around its edges, even this small cloth beautiful and special. Like the wagons, the horses, the people. But not special enough to keep Matt here.
Couldn't he even tell me goodbye?
Well, of course he would. This was Matt, after all. He would be ridiculously wonderful and sweet, reasonable and perfect when he told Jack. And Jack dreaded that even more than not getting to say goodbye.
"What?" asked Lon at the sight of his face. He cast the cloth aside and reached up for Jack, as if he was a small child that needed to be helped down from a horse.
They interacted, for the most part, as two adults, one older and more experienced, but still, both adults. Then there were these moments when the other attitude came through. When Lon treated Jack like a small boy who needed someone to protect him and keep him safe.
For once, he was right. Clumsily, as if he'd forgotten all he'd learned about riding, Jack slid down with his uncle's help. Cleve stepped away, dropping his head to eat more.
Jack let himself be enveloped in the strong arms of his uncle. Lon smelled clean. The hug was so tight Jack felt safe, even as it grew difficult to breathe. He closed his eyes and went slack in the embrace. With his eyes closed, it was easier to speak. "I think Matt's leaving us."
"Yes? Why?" Lon didn't let go.
"I saw him walking awa
y with his b-brothers."
"Hm." Lon grunted softly, gave him a swat on the back, and released him. "Well, we can go and find out. There's no need to fret yourself. I don't think you're right. Why wait in agony till you know for sure?" He looked around, as if trying to decide if he needed to gather anything. "We'll walk."
"No. Please." He caught hold of Lon's arm. "I—I don't want to."
Lon looked at him closely, moving from his easy feeling of taking care of everything, fixing things, to actual concern—not about Matt, but about Jack.
"Did you two have a fight?"
Jack shook his head, hard. "No. But…maybe he doesn't belong. Maybe…" He trailed off, let his voice die.
Lon stared at him, mouth open slightly, looking at him with dark-eyed disbelief. "No. That boy has done right by you. You don't decide we leave without him."
Jack opened his mouth, then shut it again. He felt about to cry. But if I have to stand there with his brothers and make him choose, it will kill me. Because who in their right mind would choose me?
Matt was kind, warm, gentle, and caring, but ultimately, wouldn't he need a "real" house, and job, and life? Wouldn't his brothers and his dog be enough to remind him of that?
Jack wasn't going to make a fool of himself trying to change Matt's mind—ripping his heart out for all to see and laugh at. He was once again the tawdry, shabby orphan, the one nobody had wanted.
He turned away to hide his tears, unable to stop them after all.
"Drink this down now." Grandma Ulis fussed around him. He saw the concern etched on her face, wondered how bad he must look. But he couldn't quite bring himself to care.
He wrapped his hands around the chipped, colorful mug, stared down into the dark center of the tea. "I wish he'd stay."
It felt like even that admission was a rip in his heart. But of course he wished Matt would stay. Of course he did. Saying it aloud didn't change anything, didn't make his wish come true, the way a child thought about magic: wish on a star, say it, make it come true.
It wasn't true. Probably wouldn't ever be.
She swatted his shoulder. "Hush, now. We won't leave without him."
He felt a crazy, sad little laugh bubbling up in him, but it didn't reach the surface. "We'll have to, if he doesn't want to go with us."
She snorted, as if he was being ridiculous. But his worries from the other day, dismissed overnight as silly and insecure, now seemed all too plausible.
Matt would leave him. He'd probably stop by to say goodbye quite soon now.
Around them, life at the camp continued on busily. They weren't due to leave yet. For another week or so at least, they'd be here. That long he'd spend in agony, wondering if Matt might change his mind, might decide to come back.
He would see Matt everywhere, at the post office, on the street, in the fields—in his mind, etched into it, even if he never saw Matt physically. And he would keep hoping the impossible, that Matt would change his mind and come back.
He pushed the tea away and put his elbows on Grandma's small table, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, rocking forward.
"Drink," said Grandma, softer now, putting a hand on his back. She kept it there a long moment.
Outside, dogs began to bark, setting up an alarm. Briefly, voices rose. But over them came Matt's voice: "It's all right, it's all right! I'll carry him. Jinx, for pity's sake!"
Jack tried to convince himself to move, to go and see. Instead, Grandma was the first to step to her wagon's opening and peer out. "He's here, carrying a small dog. Two men are with him."
Jack got up abruptly, almost knocking over his chair. He breathed hard and fast, yet shallow and painful. He felt as if he wasn't breathing at all. "Matty?"
The dogs had come to heel by his uncle. He stood at the outskirts of the encampment, arms crossed, nodding, saying something to the two tall blond men, Matt's brothers.
Matt strode towards the Ulis's wagon, as if he knew exactly where to go to find Jack. In his arms, Matt held a small dark dog, which was panting and looking entirely pleased with itself, despite having to be rescued from the travelers' dogs. It had long, droopy ears and what looked like silky fur, not a traveler sort of dog at all. Lon's dog was a rangy mutt with intelligent yellow eyes and a very mixed heritage, as were most of the traveler dogs. Jack loved it in all its shaggy ugliness.
Matt's eyes were clear and calm, and he smiled brightly when he saw Jack. He didn't put down the dog to wave, but gave a little jerk of his head in greeting. It was their first time seeing each other today. Matt's steps quickened.
Jack had no words. Matt stepped up into the wagon, putting his dog down and giving it a single pat, and looked up at Jack, opening his mouth to speak.
Before he could, Jack caught him, crushed him close, and kissed the side of his face convulsively. Tears were leaking, and not from Matt. Jack didn't have words, but he made a gasping sound like a choked-off sob. Matt wasn't leaving; of course he wasn't.
"Jack?" asked Matt softly against his ear, wrapping arms around him carefully, as if afraid to hold on too tightly. "What's the matter? You hurt?" He felt lightly, drawing back, as if to see if one of Jack's ribs was cracked. "Did you have a fall? Riding Cleve again?" He drew back, his eyes full of sympathy. "C'mon, where's it hurt?"
Jack's lips wobbled. He tried to smile, as he touched his heart lightly with his fingertips.
Matt put his hand over top of Jack's, and then looked at Jack sharply, blinking. "What?"
"My heart. I thought you were leaving me. You're not."
"No." Matt's mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But…why would you think…?" He looked hurt, as if he'd been falsely accused.
Jack shook his head. "Never mind. It's my fault. I was being stupid."
Grandma Ulis cleared her throat. "You should both sit down and have some tea. And breakfast."
"But why would you…? Jack?" Matt laced his fingers between Jack's, holding hands, as they moved to the small table. He let Jack pull him down onto his lap. The small dog wove around their feet, searching fruitlessly for scraps.
Jack swallowed hard. "They came to visit, right? And to bring your dog?"
"Yes, but how did you—"
"I, er, saw in the village. I thought they were t-taking you away." He gulped at the memories of his heart dying within him. "I was so scared. I'm glad you're staying." But for how long? He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead against Matt's shoulder. For how long?
"That's what happened, all right. I'm sorry your first thought was of me leaving." Matt's voice had gone all stiff and proper. "And yes, they did want to tell me I had better be home in time for our mother's birthday. I said I'd see what I can do. Will you think I'm leaving forever if I go?" It was an honest question, if a goading, offended one.
Jack drew in a jagged breath, laughing at himself a little, rueful and lost. "Yes. Probably. At least for a bit." And he wrapped his arms around Matt's middle and squeezed, holding on tightly, pressing his face against Matt, breathing in the scent of him. Surviving, because of this man he had somehow come to need as much as air.
"Oh, Jack." Matt's voice wasn't annoyed now. He turned enough that he could hug Jack back, and laced fingers through Jack's thick curls, sighing heavily. "Don't you know I'm not going to leave you by now?"
Jack hesitated, then shook his head a little. "I try to know it. I really do. But…"
Matt sighed and held him gingerly, patting his back a little. At last they drew apart and shared a kiss. Matt stared down into Jack's eyes, holding one hand against the side of Jack's neck, as if he was very precious indeed. "I'm sorry you were scared. But please try to believe me. I love you—and it's not a temporary thing, not just a lark for me. I want you forever. If that means we travel, I'm happy. I love your family, and this life. Maybe someday we'll settle into a house. I'd like that as well—as long as you're with me, and happy. But please believe me, I'm not going to just disappear. Okay?"
He looked into Jack
's eyes, his gaze troubled and concerned, really caring that Jack heard him.
Jack nodded, ashamed to meet that gaze, which was so open and honest with him, and always had been. "You've never let me down, Matt. Please don't think that's why," he said in a hoarse, croaking voice.
"I know. But I'm not like your parents. I won't leave."
"My mother didn't have a choice," said Jack softly. "And my father, well, he just…he did, and he made it. I don't think you're like him. It's just…nobody wanted me all the long years I was growing up and getting into fights. Nobody. And now you and my family do want me? How do I convince myself, when I wake up in the middle of the night, or…or see something that frightens me, like you walking away with your brothers, laughing…how do I stop being afraid when that happens?"
Matt pulled Jack into his arms gently, swallowing hard, looking like he wanted to cry a little bit. "When that happens, you wake me up, or you run after me. If you think I'm going, don't just let me go. Okay? I promise I won't leave on purpose." He nuzzled Jack close, and then kissed him again.
The kiss calmed Jack down like nothing else could've. Calmed—and excited.
He looked around for Grandma, adjusting his trousers, getting embarrassed. But she was gone. She'd shut the door behind her. He hadn't even heard her leave.
"Breakfast," said Matt, eying the table hungrily. "By the way, I hope you don't mind, but my mother got tired of watching over my dog, so he'll be travelling with us now." He hopped up and grabbed a plate and started scooping himself some eggs.
Jack let his hand trail after Matt, down his back, resting on his bottom, a comfortable touch, sensual and reminding him they belonged to one another.
Matt cast a quick grin back at him, his eyes light and shining. "After, okay? And maybe in our place? But right now I'm really starved!"
And Jack realized he was, too. Starved for food, for love, for comfort, and just for Matt's presence, for many days to spend together, weathering every storm.
Jack wondered if it was because he was older, or because he was so happy that the first year with Matt passed so quickly. Once they grew older, people regularly talked about how quickly time moved these days. Maybe that was happening to him.
His Kind of Home Page 7