Jonathan's Hope

by Hirschi, Hans M.

  Jonathan's Hope

  by

  HANS M. HIRSCHI

  Published by Yaree

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Hans M. Hirschi

  ISBN: 978-91-87561-01-6

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Yaree.

  To Sascha, my son,

  without whom I may never have rekindled

  my love affair with writing fiction.

  Chapter 1

  DAN STARED INTO the fire burning in front of him. Outside, the fall night was freezing cold. It hadn’t been snowing yet, but the temperatures had dropped well below the freezing point, and the fallout of moisture covered every tree, every bush, every straw of grass, and every roof. Everything around had a thick white coat. It looked quite lovely.

  The moon was out, almost full, and shone its bleak white light onto the landscape, assisted by the many stars that were out that night.

  Dan took the short walk with his dog a while ago, leaving the comforts of his small house by the lake to take Rascal out. The dog hadn’t been too thrilled about the prospect of getting his paws wet and cold. He tried to do his business as quickly as possible, turning back towards the house, but Dan kept pressing on. They headed for the shore, which lay in the middle of a local forest, and eventually, under protest, Rascal followed suit, ever by his master’s side.

  Despite the many layers of clothes that Dan was wearing, his woolen beanie, thick gloves and boots, he still froze immediately.

  “I’m not made for this weather,” he mumbled to himself, getting a look from Rascal indicating then what are we doing out here?

  They walked silently along the lakeshore, which was covered by the season’s first layer of ice. Rascal picked up the odd scent every now and then of a rabbit or a deer. The wagging of his tail and sniffing was a clue of his find as he’d walk off to various directions. But Rascal always came back quickly as Dan walked on undeterred. No fun tonight.

  As they reached the far side of the lake, where he could see his house, lit up by a couple of lamps, he stopped. He stood gazing out into the night, looking at the lake, which really was more of a large pond about half a mile in diameter, in the middle of a clearing in the forest. He and Sean bought the log cabin five years earlier. It was an old fishing cabin, owned by a distant relative of Sean’s, who had passed away that year. The family hadn’t really known what to do with it, too small for year-round living, too remote, too primitive.

  Dan quietly looked over the lake at his house. Sure, it may only be a modest cabin, but he lived there year-round now. After officially becoming a couple, Sean moved in with him into his city condo. It wasn’t long after that they bought this escape of theirs. They started to renovate the cabin immediately, making it their retreat whenever they could. Sean loved to fish, loved to hunt, hunt...

  The final thought seared through Dan’s thoughts with a pain that cut off his breath. The hunt...

  After a year of blood, sweat and more than a few tears, they were done. The cabin was insulated for year-round use, electricity was added thanks to a small generator, and their local water well was connected to the kitchen and bathroom so that they could take a hot shower and do the dishes without having to leave the house. Our best decision...

  Dan closed his eyes and let his imagination drift away, overlooking the scenery with his inner eyes. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the cold, fresh air, the sounds of the forest and the feel of frosty, snowy surroundings. He imagined Sean out there on the lake with a small pole, sitting on a short stool next to a hole in the ice, trying to catch something for a romantic dinner.

  The hope of actually seeing Sean forced Dan to open his eyes again. The night looked so bright with all the stars and the moon. The lake was frozen alright, but only barely. It had only been cold for a few nights, and therefore no sign of any tracks, human or otherwise.

  Disillusioned, Dan kept walking, circling the entire lake. Eventually he returned to the house, knowing that he’d find some comfort there from a hot chocolate and the burning fire that always made the small living room inviting, warm and comfortable.

  Back inside the house, he dried off Rascal and removed his own outer clothes and boots. Rascal had joined their small family shortly after they bought the house. Sean had always wanted a pet, but living in the city, it hadn’t seemed fair to keep a dog. No space, no forest, nowhere to really run and be a dog. But out there, by the lake, Rascal could live a great life. The young golden retriever seemed to agree, always jumping happily as weekends approached, knowing his pack would take him to the lake, where he would hunt frogs, chase ducks and run off the itch of having been locked up all day in a city condo. No matter how large the condo was, no matter that the boys took him on long walks to a nearby park, it wasn’t the same as the lake. Rascal enjoyed the cabin. His favorite spot was near the fireplace where he’d stretch out on an old quilt that Sean inherited from an aunt.

  The cabin was really small. A bedroom, a small en-suite bathroom with a shower and sink, a living room, and a kitchen with a small, round, wooden dining table hugged by four chairs. It was tiny, but cozy. It was theirs. His.

  Dan looked into the fire burning in front of him. The logs he’d put in after coming back from his walk were slowly dying. The orange, yellow and white flames were giving way to a more reddish purple as the wood turned to coal, charred, glowing faintly. It was still warm in the house, the stone hearth radiating with heat from a fire that had been lit for a long time.

  As he watched the dying embers rising from the fire, his thoughts drifted back to Sean, and that fateful hunt.

  Sean was out with a couple of friends to hunt deer when one of the guns had gone off by accident, killing him instantly. Dan eventually buried him right there, on the spot where he had fallen, a mile from the house. He remembered hearing the shot and wondering which of the boys had shot the deer. He felt a sense of pride for his lover, for his hunting skills. Although Dan himself couldn’t harm a fly, let alone fish or hunt, it had always been Sean’s passion, to provide for himself, for Dan.

  It’s been one year today.

  Shortly after Sean’s death, Dan sold his condo in the city, and moved out to the lake, permanently. He quit his job at the paper and started to freelance, writing for various journals and magazines around the country. It enabled him to stay at the cabin with Rascal, near Sean.

  His life had become quite solitary really, but he didn’t mind. You only get one shot at the happiness I had, he had convinced himself. He added a couple more logs to the fire, still cold from his walk.

  Dan lost track of time, his mind wandering back to all the memories he’d shared with Sean. The laughter, the midnight swims in the lake in the summer, waking up next to him in the morning, Sean’s cooking.

  One year, and I miss you so terribly...

  He had really stopped living then. Without Sean, his life was meaningless, empty. Not even Rascal could cheer him up, despite his daily attempts, despite sleeping on the bed every night, right were Sean would have slept... Dan knew the dog meant well, as limited as his intellect was, guided by his instincts alone.

  Who knows, if it not for Rascal, then... He didn’t finish the thought, although he thought about it often enough in the months after Sean’s funeral. In the end, he couldn’t go thro
ugh with it. Not just because of the dog, but he couldn’t do it for Sean. His lover had been such a firm believer in life, in taking chances, in making the most of every single opportunity, just as he had with him.

  Sean met him at a gay bar back in the city, noticing Dan the second he walked through the doors. Not hesitating for a moment, Sean walked over and introduced himself with the corniest pickup line in the history of gay dating: “Hey handsome, where have you been all my life?” Sean flashed a smile that could’ve melted steel, stretching out his hand for a casual handshake.

  They disappeared into a small bubble, talking, drinking beer, talking, slowly moving closer. Eventually, Sean’s hand found its way onto Dan’s thigh, resting there comfortably, as if it belonged there.

  They did take it slow, dating for almost a year before Sean moved into Dan’s large condo in the city’s central business district. Dan was a successful journalist who’d won several awards for his writing, while Sean was taking his stab at life a tad more casually. He was studying to become a lawyer, working as a paralegal, making enough money to pay bills, but spending every free minute at the beach or in the forest, fishing, hunting, surfing, and enjoying life to the fullest. Dan had never met a guy with such a huge appetite for life, and a large circle of friends that shared the same passions. Dan was immediately intimidated by the group, but Sean always made him feel welcomed.

  Dan was an introvert, shying away from social interaction that wasn’t absolutely necessary. He often felt at odds with the world, happy only when he had his head buried in his writing, analyzing a project or taking long walks in solitude. He’d often wondered why Sean sought him out, the loner in the back of the bar, mulling quietly over his beer.

  But he did, and it had been the best years of his life. Until...

  He didn’t hear the footsteps outside the house, he was too deep in his own thoughts. He didn’t even hear the first cautious knocks on the door, timid, trepidatious.

  Rascal heard, jumping up from his place by the fire, trotting over to the door, barking.

  “What’s the matter, boy?” Dan wondered, looking toward the door. Another knock, more barking, and Rascal’s tail wagging as if an old friend was waiting on the other side.

  “Coming...” Dan hollered across the room towards whoever was waiting outside in the cold.

  Why would anyone venture out there in the middle of the night?

  Dan was unnerved. This was not the night to intrude upon his solitude, his grief, his memories of the one love he’d been robbed of, the only love he’d ever had. No, tonight was not a good night at all.

  He walked across the small room to the door, and opened it just enough to peer out and check on his visitor. Outside in the cold, stood a young man. Just a boy really, dressed in what looked like rags, too large to fit his lanky and thin frame, his blond hair a mess. No beanie, no cap, nothing to protect his head, no gloves.

  The poor guy must be freezing!

  “Come in!” Dan’s mouth spoke the words without prior approval by his brain. “You look like you’re freezing to death out there...” Dan’s body moved slightly away from the door, his left arm opening it wide enough for his right arm to wave the young man inside. Dan’s consciousness was appalled, watching the scene in a sort of out of body experience you read about in sleazy romance novels.

  Not tonight, I need to be alone tonight. Helplessly, Dan’s consciousness watched as his body guided the young man into the house, closing and locking the door behind him. The stench emanating from the visitor ended his odd experience, making Dan acutely aware that his visitor stood several inches taller than he was, when he finally looked at him through his own eyes.

  “My name is Dan, I live here.” Who are you and what brings you out here? When are you leaving?

  “Sorry to bother you, but I got lost in the forest. I’ve been out here for several days when I suddenly saw the lights of your house. I just...” The young man’s voice trailed.

  “Can I get you something to drink? Some hot chocolate maybe?” Dan asked. “Please come in, have a seat...” he added, pointing towards the couch in front of the fireplace.

  His visitor took off his coat and shoes, sneakers? Underneath, he revealed a filthy shirt, worn far too long, and a pair of jeans that had seen better days. The clothes were too baggy and didn’t fit at all, his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders, the jeans hung low on his hips, barely held up by a thin leather belt.

  He sat down on the sofa with a clunk that reminded Dan of someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and seeing as much in that sad face with bright, green eyes. He brought him a cup of steaming hot chocolate and sat back down in his own rocking chair, looking at the unexpected guest.

  “Thank you. You’re very kind.” The young man took a sip from the cup, careful not to burn his lips. He must’ve been through quite an ordeal, Dan thought, looking at his chapped lips, the bruises on his face, and his hanging shoulders.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Dan started, “but you could use a shower.” He didn’t dare say that his visitor was stinking, but it was the truth. Instead, he worded it carefully, hoping his guest would interpret it positively. “It might warm you up more quickly. The bathroom is in the back, through the bedroom. There are fresh towels on the shelves.” Dan once again felt a disconnect between his heart, wanting to be left alone in his grief, alone with his memories of Sean, and the words he spoke. Yet something within him seemed determined to help his visitor.

  “Thanks. I guess I must smell quite badly...” His visitor looked at him, smiling, yet not granting Dan the comfort of having bought the explanation, bringing a deep red blush to Dan’s face. “And yes, I would love to take a shower, get the grime off my body. I haven’t had one in weeks. Thank you.” Dan’s arm raised itself, pointing with a finger towards the bedroom, his face stern, and the corners of his mouth pointing in different directions, mirroring the conflicting emotions raging in his mind.

  “By the way, I’m Jonathan.” The young man got up, carefully placed the half-empty cup on the coffee table and headed towards the bedroom, fatigue visible in every step he took.

  Dan followed Jonathan with his eyes, taking pity on the young man and his unknown fate. What had happened to him? Why was he out there in the middle of the night? What brought him to my door? Slowly, as he mulled those questions, his mind and his heart gave in to the actions taken instinctively by his body earlier.

  Of course, he couldn’t let Jonathan freeze to death out there. Of course, he had to welcome him to his home, help him. Of course... It’s what Sean would’ve done!

  Sean, I miss you so...

  Dan could hear the shower being turned on, water splashing.

  Jonathan seemed to be showering forever, or so it seemed to Dan as his curiosity was getting the better of him. When the young man emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in nothing but a large towel, Dan almost lost it. His jaw dropped. He’s gorgeous.

  Jonathan’s blond hair, thoroughly washed and combed, was hanging almost to his shoulders, his tall, thin frame pale, the faintest hints of muscles discernible underneath his skin, tiny dark nipples and not a hair on his chest. Oh my god, he’s only a child...

  “I borrowed your brush. I hope that’s okay, but my hair was a mess...” Jonathan smiled, shaking his head, causing his hair to partially cover his face, his green eyes. But he smiled, for the first time. “Thanks for allowing me to use your shower. I really needed it. Is it okay if I sit like this for a while before I put my clothes back on? It feels so nice to be clean, even if it’s only for a little while...” His voice trailed, not daring to ask Dan for any additional favors.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m such a miserable host!” Dan practically jumped from his chair, dashing into the bedroom, rummaging his closet for something Jonathan might be able to wear. He was obviously way too thin for Dan’s clothes, but maybe some of Sean’s old stuff might do the trick.

  He found a pair of shorts, some socks, a sweater and a pa
ir of sweats that might fit the young man, boy. He quickly returned to the living room with the clothes under his arm. Jonathan was sitting down on the couch again, legs pulled up, the cup back in his hands, clutching it as if to extract extra warmth from it. The picture was heartwarming, stirring emotions in Dan he’d thought he’d long lost.

  Goose bumps were forming on Jonathan’s arms, and Dan got worried that the boy was freezing. “Here, put these on. They might fit you. They are my...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. Jonathan glanced up at him, his eyes gleaming with thankfulness. Setting the cup back on the table, he took the clothes and trotted back to the bedroom. Reemerging a few instants later, dressed in Sean’s old clothes, he almost broke Dan’s heart all over again.

  “Thank you, you are so kind,” Jonathan said, as he sat back down on the couch.

  They sat quietly, watching the fire for a long time. Dan added more logs to it, while Jonathan sat curled up on the couch, cup still between his hands, as if it provided him some sense of security and comfort. They both looked into the fire, Dan not knowing what to say next, Jonathan not daring to say anything, afraid of being thrown back out into the cold. Yet there were so many things in the air. What about his old clothes? Should I offer to wash them? They really need to be thrown away. Who is he? How old is he? Why is he here?

  Dan’s mind was racing, his emotions in an uproar, Sean forgotten for the time being. His heart conflicted with the attraction to Jonathan yet unable to give in, given his young age. I’m not into kids, after all. How old is he anyway?

  How am I going to get out of this mess, he wondered, but continued to stare into the fire.

  “Go ahead, ask...” Jonathan whispered, his voice weak. Dan could hear the fear in his voice. He glanced over at his uninvited guest, and ended up looking straight into Jonathan’s green eyes. He noticed the desperation, the fear. Fear of what? Me?