by Marie Medina
He gazed up at the stars, wondering if Owen might be looking up at them at that very moment.
****
Owen made a dive and finally caught the escaped chicken, which immediately began pecking at his hands. He rushed back over to the coop and tossed it inside with the others, putting his hands on his hip and glaring at it in triumph.
The chicken, however, didn’t seem to care.
He sighed and rechecked the gate before walking over to retrieve his bucket and go to the well for some more water. Someone was coming down the road at a leisurely pace, and Owen only glanced at him. But when he looked back up, he realized it was Lane. Part of him was disappointed to see the man alone, but he hadn’t really expected Edmund to come with him. Owen set the bucket of water down by the door and waved as Lane quickened his pace.
“You seem to have settled in. Hope you haven’t forgotten us,” Lane said, grinning and leaning on a fencepost.
“Of course I haven’t,” Owen said, trying to smile. “How long have you been here? I popped over to the festival the first day to look for you.”
“I got here last night around dinner. I thought I’d see you this morning.”
Owen sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be attending too many events.”
“You look tired.” Lane glanced around, perhaps noting the lack of activity around the farm. “Is everything all right here?”
Swallowing, Owen tried to find the right words. He didn’t want to cause alarm, but there was no use sugarcoating any of this. “My aunt’s sick. A tumor. She’s already had it removed once and refuses to go through it again.” He met Lane’s startled gaze. “She’s probably going to die before long. She just seemed tired when I arrived, but today she’s done almost nothing but sleep.”
“I’ve never wanted to let a doctor cut me up, no matter what they say, but I’ve heard of people living a long time after a surgery. She just refuses to do it?”
“Yeah. And how can I force it? She barely knows me. It’s her life.”
“I’m so sorry, Owen. Sounds like you’re having a hell of a time here.” He shifted his weight and looked at the house. “You have to respect people’s wishes, but this really isn’t the same.”
“All I can do is try to make her comfortable. She doesn’t get angry or anything, but she’s made up her mind.” He turned and gestured for Lane to follow him. “I’m not giving up. No way. The doctor claims there’s hope.”
“Yeah, I’ve met him. Horace? Harold?” Lane asked as he opened the door for Owen to walk through with the bucket of water.
Owen hefted the bucket onto the table. “Horace, yeah. Younger than I thought he’d be, but that’s why he’s so keen on the surgery. He thinks we have to stop taking tonics for everything that ails us.”
“We all need to drink a pint of vampire blood every morning.”
Owen lifted his eyebrows. “Not sure I want to do that.”
“Oh, yeah, me neither, but has to taste better than most tonics and potions.” Lane ran his hand along one of the kitchen chairs. “Do you need Edmund? It’s still early enough I could get home before dark. If you need him, he’ll come.”
“It’s not his problem. And I already feel guilty enough.”
Lane frowned. “Guilty? We loved having you there.”
“No, not that. Because I stayed so long. I should’ve been here.”
Lane shook his head adamantly. “You had no idea she was sick. No one would blame you.”
“I keep telling myself that, but I wish I’d been here.” He began to make a pot of tea to focus his thoughts. As the water began to boil, he turned back to Lane and said, “I don’t regret even one moment with Edmund, but I feel I was selfish. I haven’t been happy these past months. I just wanted to hold on to it a bit longer.”
“And there is no shame in that.” Lane tapped his fingers on the chair in front of him, biting his lip as if he was thinking. “Look, I promised not to interfere, but Edmund cares for you a great deal. He’d want to be here for you, but I won’t go if you don’t want me to. I’ll tell him the moment I go home in a couple of days, but I won’t just run off if you want me to wait.”
Owen chuckled, though there was little humor in the sound. He tried to smile again, hard as it was. “Don’t put this on me. Come on,” he said gently, not knowing what to say or do.
“He … loves you. He’ll do all in his power to help.”
Owen opened his mouth but no words came out. He lifted his gaze to Lane’s, not daring to ask the question.
“Not making it up. Or assuming. He admitted he loves you. And I know you care for him. There’s nothing wrong with letting someone help you. He taught me that. I used to be proud. Stubborn.”
“Used to be?” Owen asked, stalling more than anything.
“Yes, so much so it makes me look cooperative these days. I hated accepting help from anyone. I felt ashamed because everyone knew about my father. I was determined to seem strong to everyone. It’s your decision, though.”
“Thank you for that.” Owen went on making the tea. “Have a seat. I’m going to go check on my aunt, but help yourself. There’s fresh bread in the pantry. And butter in the dish.” He grabbed a knife and set it on the table.
“Thanks.” Lane pulled out the loaf and sat down, cutting three slices and buttering them.
Owen moved one slice onto a small plate. “She’s not eating, but I keep trying. At least she drinks the tea.” He readied the tray and then said, “I care for Edmund. Very much. I won’t say it’s love, but it’s … close. It’s hard to imagine my life without him now.”
“You didn’t even have to say it, Owen.” Lane smiled. “I can tell.”
“Good. I know he’s like a father. I guess I want your blessing.”
Lane laughed softly. “I’d say you’ve had it since I forced you to come back to the lodge with me.” He toyed with the piece of bread he’d cut for himself, folding it in half before brushing a few crumbs off the table. “I was sent here to have fun, but I’m gonna help you around here. Deal? I’ll still be socializing, technically, and Edmund wouldn’t criticize me for helping you.”
“All right, deal.” He lifted the tray. “Thanks.”
“Don’t even think about it.” He waved Owen toward the stairs. “Go on.”
Owen mounted the stairs again, trying to feel cheerful but not quite managing it. He plastered a smile on his face as he pushed the door open, feeling relieved when his aunt smiled back at him, even though he knew her smile was probably as fake as his.
Chapter Six
Edmund nodded to the villagers as he rode through. The festival seemed to have wound down a bit early, which made Edmund hopeful that Lane had indeed had a fine time. He’d been very pleased when Lane hadn’t come back within a couple of days, and he’d decided he’d waited long enough to surprise both Lane and Owen.
Horace, the young doctor who’d moved there a couple of years back, waved to Edmund and came up beside him as he approached the tavern. “You’d best head out to the farm. Lane’s set to come fetch you today.”
“Fetch me? For something in particular?”
Horace blinked and then cleared his throat. “Oh. They didn’t send word or anything?”
“Word about what?” Edmund, terror gripping his heart.
“Your new friend’s aunt has died. Tragic really. I wanted to operate, but she wouldn’t have it.” He sighed heavily before rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I feel I failed her by not convincing her.”
“Operate? What was wrong? Owen had no idea she was sick.”
“Tumor. She’s had one removed before but wouldn’t go through it again. Only forty-eight years old. Very sad.” He nodded to the hills. “You know her farm, right?”
Edmund nodded. “Yes.”
“Best head on and meet Lane on the way. Otherwise he’ll get all the way to the lodge and have to turn back.”
Nodding again, Edmund turned his horse. “Thank you.”
Horace raised
his hand, looking dejected. Then he turned and kept walking.
Edmund set off as fast as the clogged lane would allow, relieved when he saw Lane on the path before him. The look on Lane’s face was so tragic Edmund couldn’t even reprimand him for not coming sooner. “He wouldn’t let you come for me?” he asked as their horses came up beside each other.
Lane shook his head as he turned his horse so they could head back to the farm. “He feels guilty for not arriving here sooner. I think he was punishing himself. Thinking he didn’t deserve your comfort and help. I told him it was silly, but I also tried to just be his friend and help him. I’m sorry if you’re angry.”
“Now isn’t the time for anger. How is he?”
“Very sad. At least they met and got to spend some time together. But the situation was already so tragic, his parents dying without reconciling in any way.”
“We don’t always get the chance to make things right.”
Lane nodded sadly.
“He’s not alone, is he?” Edmund asked as they crested a hill.
“No. The people on the farm next door. Hattie and Jon and their son Ryan. They were good friends of Anita’s. They’re all with Owen, but seeing you so soon will do him a world of good.” He changed his grip on the horse’s reins. “Who told you?”
“I saw Horace.” Edmund turned his head, not wanting to ask but still curious if others knew about him and Owen. “Does anyone know about me and Owen?”
“Yeah, he told his aunt. There hasn’t been much time to talk about anything but his aunt and the farm, but I think Hattie and everyone kind of got the picture when I said I’d hurry up and fetch you in time for the funeral. The look on his face … anyone could see how much he wants to see you.” He reached over and poked Edmund. “Not that I really think you would, but don’t give him a hard time. He was trying to be so strong. Do it on his own. But now he sees that he needed you. I think so anyway.”
“I wouldn’t chastise him. How upset is he? What should I be ready for?” Edmund didn’t know how he’d be able to stand seeing Owen crying and grieving, but he’d make himself stay strong as long as he needed to.
“He pushed himself so hard, so part of it is exhaustion. Ryan and I did our best to keep up with things so he could focus on his aunt. He never cried until today. It just happened early this morning. Everyone’s trying to comfort him. You might be able to understand better than anyone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the story was kind of sad, you know. The sisters falling out, the lack of reconciliation. Owen just meeting her when she’s so sick. He’s going to get lots of pity with the comfort. He’s going to need you at his side more than ever.”
“I’m just nervous, I guess. Our relationship’s so new.”
“Nothing to be nervous about. Just don’t let go when he runs into your arms.”
“I don’t intend to.”
They dismounted quickly upon arrival, a small crowd of people already moving in and out of the house.
“Everyone’s pulled together right away,” Lane said. “You were right to tell me not to be scared of rejection. The whole village has been supportive since my arrival.”
Hattie, whom Edmund had known for years, came rushing over, dropping a little nod to Edmund out of habit. “Lor—sorry, sorry. Edmund. Heavens, but he must’ve found you on the road. No way he’s fetched you back this quick unless he’s got demon blood.”
Edmund gave a brief smile at that comment. “I wondered when he was younger, but no. I was coming to surprise Owen and Lane both. But Horace told me as I arrived. I’m sorry for everyone’s loss. I didn’t know her well at all, but she seemed like a good woman.”
“Yes, good honest worker and treated everyone fair. Such a good friend, listening to me blather on every other day over tea.” Hattie took a fortifying breath and turned back to the house. Looking back to Edmund, she said, “Nice to see you about, even if it is tragic.” She pointed to the door. “Go on. He needs you right now.”
“Yes,” Edmund said softly before walking over to the house. The crowd parted for him, everyone nodding and muttering polite greetings.
Owen came into sight behind all the women bustling in the kitchen. He sat on a bench beside Ryan, who seemed to have grown a foot since Edmund last saw him. Tears streaked Owen’s red face, and he blinked as he seemed to realize the room had gotten quieter. Another gush came when their eyes met, and Owen quickly bridged the gap between them and crushed himself against Edmund. Everyone politely talked amongst themselves, saying good things about Anita. Owen trembled a bit, and Edmund gently pulled him off to a side room. It was tiny, but at least they could get a moment to breathe.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Owen,” Edmund said before kissing his forehead and pulling him close again.
Owen didn’t say anything, though he clung to Edmund as he seemed to struggle with curtailing his tears.
“Let it out. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
To Edmund’s surprise, Owen simply asked, “Why do the gods let things like this happen?”
“I’ve pondered that question often myself,” Edmund said quietly as he stroked Owen’s hair.
Owen looked up into his eyes. “It was foolish not to send for you. Don’t even think of leaving my sight again.”
The words might as well have been a declaration, given the look on Owen’s face and the conviction in his voice. “I won’t.” Edmund cupped Owen’s face and kissed his cheek before pulling him close again.
****
Owen stood by the grave, alone. Everyone else had left slowly over the last half hour, and Lane and Edmund stood back close to the road, waiting. Owen had asked them to help him fill in the grave, and they’d agreed without hesitation. Everyone had been so understanding with him the past two days, and all of it had blurred together a bit. The one constant had been Edmund at his side. Though Edmund hadn’t said much, his strength had been a great comfort. He understood why Edmund and others didn’t know what to say—Owen didn’t know what to say either. The past two nights, he’d lain in Edmund’s arms, either crying or not saying anything. Edmund understanding that he wasn’t ready to talk much yet meant so much.
Looking up, Owen saw a man he hadn’t met yet. Their gazes locked, and Owen walked around the grave toward him.
The man cleared his throat as he approached. “Sorry I arrived late. A funeral wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“Really? You were here for my aunt?”
The man nodded. “My name’s Aaron. My brother passed away recently, and I was here to give Anita something from him. We live in the next village.” He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope. “They were friends. May have been a couple at one point. I’m not sure. But he wanted her to have a little legacy. I suppose it’s yours now.” He held it out.
“No, I couldn’t take it. Keep it for his children.”
Aaron shook his head. “Didn’t have any. I insist. It was for her farm. She lent him money years ago and wouldn’t let him pay it back.” He smiled. “He’d leave it here, hiding it in her house, and somehow he’d get home and find it in his luggage.”
Owen tried to smile. “Sounds as if they were good friends. What was his name?”
“George. He never married, same as her, so I always wondered.”
“Maybe they both liked living independently. Having their own space and privacy.” Owen held out his hand and accepted the envelope when it was pushed his way again. “I’ll invest it in the farm. I wouldn’t want to prevent you from carrying out his wishes or anything. Thank you for coming.” He blinked, wondering suddenly. “Did she know he was sick? She kept her illness a secret.”
“He had a heart attack, so no, no one knew anything because it was sudden.” He nodded to the grave. “Do you need help?”
“No, thank you. I have loved ones with me to help.”
“Sorry for your loss.” Aaron nodded to Owen and then to Edmund and Lane before moving away.
“Thank you,” Owen said softly as he tucked the money away and watched the older man leave.
After turning around and nodding at Edmund and Lane, Owen took up a shovel and began heaping the dirt back into the hole. He did so quickly at first to try to drown out the sound of dirt hitting wood, but he slowed once most of the top of the coffin had been covered. Edmund and Lane worked silently at his side, and Owen couldn’t help thinking about what would happen next. His aunt had made it known that she would leave everything to Owen even before he’d arrived. He’d told her she didn’t have to do that, but she’d only chuckled very quietly, saying there was no one else. However, she’d told him not to feel obligated to anything regarding the farm. Once it was his, she didn’t care if he kept it, sold it, or simply gave it away. He’d been thinking about that as a way to keep his mind occupied. What would be best? He could do it with some help, but did he want to? Was there a need in the community he could meet by giving it away? And then there was Edmund to think of. They hadn’t made any kind of commitment to each other, not verbally anyway, so that was still an unknown.
Owen glanced up at the other two men briefly. Lane had been telling the truth about Edmund. Owen could feel the other man’s love in everything Edmund did. The villagers had all been welcoming. While some did stare, and many children were curious and wary, the populace in general treated Edmund like any other man. Would Edmund want to come here and live on a farm? What would happen to the lodge? And what about Lane? Three people in his aunt’s house would be a bit cramped, but they could manage, especially with Owen and Edmund sharing a bedroom. But then, of course, Edmund wanted Lane to find his independence. He looked up again, an idea occurring to him. Lane had been taking care of a very large house for a long time, and he was good with horses. He might be perfect for the farm, with a little help from the neighbors. That would get him out of the lodge and be a start to having a separate life.
It was so hard to know what to do. He’d come here expecting to have a little break from traveling while he got to know his aunt. But instead he found himself on a very different path. If Edmund wanted him, how could he leave? They’d both be miserable, as would Lane. He realized they’d already finished filling the hole and began patting it down. Sweat ran down his brow, even though the day was cool, and he noticed they were all panting. His thoughts had obviously had him so occupied he hadn’t comprehended how much time had passed.