by Ari McKay
He did want Carlos; he couldn’t seem to help himself in that regard. Where he had to hold firm was in doing anything about it. If he gave Carlos an inch, no doubt Carlos would use the opening to get exactly what he wanted. Jules needed to remind himself constantly of the pain he’d felt, or he would be in danger of losing himself completely. He’d simply have to deal with things like the adult he was and stop being so foolish over a romance that had been dead and buried for a decade.
As he passed by the schoolhouse, he remembered that he’d left some papers on his desk that he needed to grade. Since he wasn’t able to sleep, he might as well gather them up and take them back to his house. Maybe working would distract him from his vain longing for a time.
Fortunately his keys were in his trouser pocket, and he unlocked the rear door, then stepped into the quiet building. The classroom doors were open, and bright moonlight spilled into the hallway, giving him enough light to find his way. Reaching his own classroom, he went to his desk, seeing the papers neatly stacked on the corner exactly as he’d left them.
Instead of picking them up, he looked out the windows toward the few remaining lights along Main Street. The town looked peaceful and serene, a little haven of happiness in a cold and lonely world.
There was a sound behind him, a stealthy footstep, and Jules whirled, heart pounding. “Who’s there?”
As if summoned by Jules’s thoughts, Carlos stepped out of the shadows and into a patch of moonlight, and he spread his hands wide. “Only me.”
Jules drew in a deep breath, relieved his fleeting visions of one of Mr. Poe’s nightmares coming to haunt him were unfounded, even though Carlos’s presence was equally disturbing, though in a very different way. “You startled me.” His voice was harsher than he’d intended, and he made himself soften his tone. “I thought I was alone.”
“You were,” Carlos said as he approached Jules, his gaze fixed on Jules’s face. “But you need not be any longer.”
He knew what Carlos wanted, and, God help him, Jules wanted it too. Carlos looked dark and devilish in the moonlight, but no less appealing than he had from the first moment Jules had ever seen him so long ago. But it was madness to give in to his desires, and Jules shook his head. “Even if I took you back, you’d only leave again,” he said, reminding himself as much as Carlos. “Someone else would catch your eye, and you’d be gone. I have no illusions that if I couldn’t hold you at thirty, I’m any more appealing ten years later.”
“It is no fault of yours that I left you,” Carlos said with a firm shake of his head. “The fault is mine. I did not wish to be held by anyone. You were the most beautiful man I had ever seen then.” He stroked Jules’s cheek gently with the backs of his fingers, his expression soft and warm. “You are still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
Jules’s heart began to pound again, though the fear this time was of himself. Mesmerized, he couldn’t look away from Carlos’s face, the affection he read there a balm for the wounds he’d carried for so long. “You were the beautiful one,” he murmured. “The first time you smiled at me, I thought I finally understood why Paris risked the wrath of the gods for Helen.”
Carlos chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “I never thought to be compared to Helen of Troy, but I accept the compliment. Ten years have passed for me as well. Perhaps I am the one who is no longer appealing?”
“Considering the young man who was rather desperately trying to capture your attention this evening, I think you know the answer to that,” Jules replied tartly. He remembered his jealousy and dropped his gaze.
“I do not care about anyone else’s opinion,” Carlos said, sliding his fingers under Jules’s chin and lifting it. “Only yours.”
Jules swallowed hard. “Why me?” he asked.
“Because I wish to appeal only to you,” Carlos murmured, his gaze flicking down to Jules’s lips. “Because you alone can capture my attention.”
All the air seemed to leave Jules’s lungs. “For how long?” It was a last, weak protest, as Jules felt his defenses crumbling.
Carlos framed Jules’s face between his hands. “For the rest of my life,” he said, and he drew Jules into a kiss.
At the touch of Carlos’s lips, Jules closed his eyes, all the longing and loneliness he’d felt for years receding, pushed aside by the desire Carlos had always been able to ignite within him. The kiss was gentle, as though Carlos were making him a promise, and Jules wanted to believe it was true. He wanted Carlos’s words to be more than empty promises, wanted to feel alive again, in a way he hadn’t felt since Carlos had betrayed him.
It would be so easy to give in, to throw his arms around Carlos and let the passion rise between them. He knew it would, and he knew he’d find ecstasy in Carlos’s arms more intense than anything he’d felt with any other lover. It was temptation and torment, and Jules felt his will to resist fading even as he grasped for it.
Something impinged on the moment, and at first he couldn’t identify what tugged at his mind, insisting on intruding. A moment later it registered, and he pulled back from Carlos with a gasp. “Do you smell smoke?”
Carlos drew back, looking dazed, but then he snapped to attention at Jules’s words and sniffed the air. “I do. The source must be close for the scent to be that strong. Are there houses close by? Someone who might have lit a fire?”
“I don’t think so.” Jules frowned, sniffing again as he listened, and what he heard sent a cold chill over him. “Oh no!”
He darted past Carlos to the doorway and then down the hall. The smell grew stronger, and he saw smoke pouring from the doorway of one of the classrooms. It was the side of the building that had faced the bonfire, and Jules knew it was possible that a windblown ember had smoldered unseen for hours until finding life in the new wood of the school.
“Carlos! We have to get help!” Jules knew their chances of putting out the fire by themselves were nonexistent. “I’ll ring the bell. You go rouse the firehouse!”
Carlos’s only response was a quick nod before he ran out of the building. Jules glanced into the classroom, horrified to see the flames eating into the wall, but he didn’t waste any more time. He ran back to the front of the building and snatched the loop of the bell rope from its hook by the big double doors. He yanked it hard, ringing the bell loudly again and again, not knowing any other way to summon aid quickly enough to save the building.
The smoke thickened quickly. The fresh paint and new wood burned fast and hot, and Jules knew he didn’t have much time. He let go of the rope and dashed for his office, gathering up several books before running back outside.
The bell had had the desired effect; people rushed toward the schoolhouse, and already he could hear the answering bell from the firehouse a few blocks away, and he was grateful that Carlos had gone to summon help. The side of the school was almost completely engulfed, and he felt a sense of horror as it burned. So many dreams, so much promise, and it looked ready to perish in misfortune.
Al ran up with a bucket to help, along with Matt and Gil, and Robert Carruthers arrived carrying his leather satchel of medical supplies. After putting down the books, Jules hurried to help put the fire out. Then he saw Carlos helping out with everyone else, and it seemed impossible that only a few minutes before, he’d been in Carlos’s arms, almost ready to give in to his desire. It was like a horror story, a moment’s beauty consumed in the flames of reality.
It was the notion of horror that reminded Jules of his book of Poe. Carlos had given it to him on their one Christmas together, and Jules had kept it all these years despite his anger at the giver. It was one of the few possessions he truly cherished, and normally it stayed in the drawer of the table next to his bed. But today he’d carried it into school so he could copy “Annabel Lee” out for the performance.
And the book was still in the desk in his classroom.
He didn’t even stop to think before he was running as fast as his legs would carry him back to the school.
He couldn’t get into the rear, but he circled the building and went in through the front doors. He heard voices calling out to him, but he didn’t heed them at all. The book had to be saved; it was the only bit of Carlos he knew was truly his, and he couldn’t bear to lose it.
He reached his classroom, feeling a surge of panic as he opened the drawer and didn’t see the book. Then he dug deeper, his fingers at last closing around the familiar volume. He pulled it out and shoved it into his coat pocket, then turned to make his escape.
The smoke was so thick now that he could barely see, and he coughed as he felt the heat of the advancing flames. He had to escape, so he moved as quickly as he could back into the hallway, heading toward the doors.
A sharp crack sounded over his head, and he looked up. The fire had reached the belfry, and the heavy iron bell and its supports crashed through the roof. He dove for the door, but he wasn’t fast enough; a wooden beam landed across his leg. A cry of agony was wrung from him as the bone in his leg shattered beneath the weight, and he fell to the floor, the breath knocked from his body. Dazed, he tried to escape the flames rushing toward him, but he was pinned by the fallen beam.
A tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by the flames, and Jules felt a flare of hope at the sight.
“Jules!”
Scarcely had Jules registered the sound of his own name before the figure rushed forward, and he could see Carlos was his rescuer despite his nose and mouth being covered with a bandana. Carlos didn’t waste any time with talking or checking Jules’s leg. He shoved his gloved hands beneath the beam, grunting as he strained to heave it off Jules.
Jules could see how desperately Carlos was fighting to save his life. The beam was heavy, though, and Jules wasn’t certain he could manage it.
“No! Go! Leave me!” he shouted, fearful more of the roof would crash down and Carlos would be killed. “Carlos, get out!”
Carlos didn’t even spare a glance at Jules, much less respond, seeming to double his efforts to move the beam instead. At last, he hefted it high enough that he could drag it away from Jules. As soon as Jules’s leg was free, Carlos dumped the beam and unceremoniously scooped up Jules in his arms.
“Hold fast to me,” he instructed as he hurried to the door. “I have you now.”
Jules managed to lift his arms and wrap them around Carlos’s neck. With the beam gone, the agony in his leg seemed to double, making his vision gray out.
“You saved me,” he murmured. His world narrowed down to pain in his leg and the sight of Carlos’s face. He brushed his fingertips along the firm line of Carlos’s jaw. “Thank you.”
Then the world went dark.
Chapter Seven
CARLOS SAT beside Jules’s bed with a book open in his lap. Gil had insisted on having Jules brought to Bent Oak, where Al and Carlos could easily take care of him, and Gil had opened up the foreman’s house for them. Everyone else had work to do in the middle of the day, so Carlos could hold Jules’s hand safely while he read and waited for the laudanum to wear off.
Seeing Jules lying in bed, so pale and still with his right leg in a cast from the knee down, made all of Carlos’s protective instincts surge to the forefront. Not to mention Jules was going to need help until the cast came off, and Carlos had the advantage of working primarily around the stables, which meant he could be close by most of the time. Jules probably wouldn’t like the idea of accepting Carlos’s help, but they could debate that issue once Jules was awake.
Finally, Jules began to stir. A frown creased his brow, and he moved restlessly, giving a slight moan of pain before he opened his eyes. He looked around, appearing confused, and caught sight of Carlos.
“Querido?” he asked. His eyes were glassy with the lingering effects of the laudanum Doc Carruthers had dosed him with, and likely the laudanum was to blame for Jules using the endearment so readily. “Qué pasó?”
“You are at Bent Oak Ranch,” Carlos replied, giving Jules’s hand a gentle squeeze. Relief flooded through him, washing away the lingering fear that Jules might not wake up. “Your leg is broken, but you were fortunate. It is a clean break, and it will heal well as long as you behave yourself and do as Dr. Carruthers instructs.”
For several long moments, Jules stared at him, the meaning behind the words obviously taking a little time for him to process. Then he shifted restlessly again, frowning. “There was a fire,” he said slowly. “The schoolhouse. Is it gone?”
Carlos hesitated, debating whether he ought to give Jules the bad news so soon after waking up, but he would find out eventually anyway, and Carlos didn’t want to make Jules angry over withholding information.
“Yes,” he replied, squeezing Jules’s hand again in a silent offer of comfort and support. “What remains will be torn down, and the building will have to be constructed anew.”
“No…,” Jules whispered, gripping Carlos’s hand tightly. “The children will be so upset! They love the school. What will we do now?”
Carlos couldn’t bear to see Jules in such distress without offering some comfort, and he reached out to smooth Jules’s unruly golden curls away from his face.
“I do not know,” he replied softly. “I have not been privy to the discussions about the school. But I am certain the children will have another schoolhouse.”
Jules looked like a man who was fighting off the effects of having had too much to drink as he gazed up at Carlos. “You saved me?”
“You were trapped under a beam,” Carlos explained in case Jules’s memories were still foggy. “I moved the beam and got you out. Why did you go back, foolish man?” he asked, worry and exasperation infusing his voice.
“My book!” Jules struggled to sit up in the bed. “Where is the book? I need to find it!”
“I did not see a book.” Carlos let go of Jules’s hand and pressed his shoulder, urging him to lie down again. He hated to be the bearer of so much bad news, but he didn’t remember seeing a book in Jules’s hands. Jules might have dropped it nearby when the beam fell on him, which meant whatever book Jules had wanted to save so badly was nothing but ashes.
Jules sagged against the pillows and then lifted a trembling hand to rub his forehead. “I had it,” he murmured. “It was in my hand. I took it from the desk and….” He gasped. “My coat! I put it in the pocket of my coat.”
“I will look for it.” Carlos stood up and went to the wardrobe first. Jules’s suit was hanging up inside, but not his coat, and Carlos checked the hook on the back of the bedroom door next, relieved to see Jules’s overcoat hanging on it. He checked the pockets and pulled out a book. He did a double take when he saw the title. His breath caught in his throat when he opened it and saw a familiar inscription written in his own hand on the inside cover.
“You went back for this?” He turned to Jules with a puzzled frown. Given how much anger Jules had carried for the past ten years, Carlos thought any reminder of him would have been thrown away long ago. “Why?”
Jules held out his hand, his eyes brightening as he caught sight of the book. “I had to. It’s all I have left.” He stopped, an expression of confusion crossing his face. “Please, may I have it back?”
Carlos returned to his chair and handed over the book, studying Jules in silence. “I did not think you had kept any reminders of me.”
Jules clutched it tightly, a flush rising on his pale cheeks. “Did you keep nothing of me?” he asked.
“I kept the copy of The Old Curiosity Shop you gave me,” Carlos admitted. “I keep your photograph in its pages.”
“I thought you would have thrown them away,” Jules said, appearing surprised.
“Even as foolish as I was back then, I could not bring myself to part with them,” Carlos said quietly. “Something deep down knew I would regret it if I did, and I am glad I heeded it. I have reread the book often and looked at your photograph countless times when I missed you most keenly.”
Carlos thought he saw a hint of yearning in Jules’s blue
eyes before Jules lowered his gaze once more.
“You truly have changed,” Jules said.
“Ten years is a long time.” Carlos smiled wryly and gave a little shrug. “I had plenty of time during my travels to think about what I had thrown away.”
“It really is a long time,” Jules said softly. He shifted and let out a soft moan. “My leg… you said it’s broken? It hurts….”
Carlos jumped up to retrieve the bottle of laudanum and the spoon from the bedside table. Dr. Carruthers had warned against giving too-frequent doses, but it had been long enough since the last dose that Jules could take some now. He carefully poured out a spoonful and offered it to Jules.
“This will ease your pain and let you rest again.”
Jules took the medicine obediently, then lay back against the pillows with a sigh. “I should thank you for saving me,” he said, smothering a yawn with one hand. “You didn’t have to risk yourself for me.”
“I wanted to.” Carlos bent to fluff Jules’s pillows and straighten the blankets. “I cannot bear to think of the world without you in it somewhere.”
Jules grasped Carlos’s hand, even though his eyelids were already beginning to droop. “I do forgive you, you know. You were so young, so beautiful… more of a temptation than I could bear. ’S funny….” He yawned again. “I think the year I had with you… it was the only time I’ve ever been truly happy.”
Carlos’s heart constricted at that, and he could no longer resist the temptation to comb his fingers gently through Jules’s soft curls. “That is true for me as well,” he said, realizing the truth of the words even as he spoke them.
“Mmm.” Jules’s eyes closed, but his lips were curved in a smile. He still held Carlos’s hand, and he murmured “Querido” again before slipping into sleep once more.