“Why did you stay? After it happened. Why not go do something else?”
He thought about it, then shrugged. “I’m good at what I do. It’s who I am. Besides, out here, it feels enchanted sometimes. Like I could meet him again if I stayed long enough.” His eyes dropped. “That probably sounds foolish.”
A shiver rippled up Charlie’s back, and Jack hugged him tighter. “Don’t worry. No ghosts are going to get you.”
“Maybe one already tried.”
Jack laughed. “Lucky I’m here to protect you.”
Charlie leaned over and playfully nibbled one of Jack’s nipples, triggering a rumble deep in his chest.
“You know we have a quota to make today, right?” Jack said.
Charlie bit again, harder, and Jack grabbed hold of him and pulled him over, so he was straddling his massive body.
“No one would blame us for taking the rest of the day off,” Charlie murmured, bracing himself to either side of Jack’s face. “It’s Christmas Eve, after all. That should mean something.”
Jack ran his stubbled cheek back and forth along the insides of Charlie’s wrist. “Well, for me it means a day off, but for you it means a day when you’re not getting paid. And you need that pay, else you wouldn’t be here.”
Charlie looked out into the forest all around them. “I can live with that after today’s progress. Who knows when we’ll get time alone again.”
Doug, Fred, and Sam were due back right after Boxing Day. That meant two more days to themselves, where they didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing them and shame tumbling down around them.
Maybe they really were in an enchanted forest, a place between the worlds where they could live freely.
But the forest was disappearing.
Then it’d be back to long looks and silence until it all got too much, or he made a mistake and someone found out. How it had always gone. Then where would he go?
Jack’s rough hands traced down his chest and his stomach, stirring an itch that he was well placed to scratch. Thoughts of the future shivered away.
“Tell you what, let’s cut a few more, then tonight and tomorrow will be ours.” His hand wrapped around Charlie’s already hard cock. “And I’ll do this for every sleeper you cut right. Sound good?”
At that particular moment, it sounded like the best idea in the world, but as Jack’s hand moved up and down his shaft, it became impossible to remember why. He found himself nodding, mimicking the rocking of his hips along Jack’s own hardness, grinding against him, wanting him inside him again. As often as possible while they were free to.
But suddenly, Jack’s hand was gone, and he was being dumped onto the dirt, still rigid, to find his own feet.
“I’ll get you for that, Jack Tapper.”
“I’m counting on it, Charlie Young,” he said with a wink and reached for his trousers.
Being left half-done had the effect that Jack was undoubtedly going for. Charlie was fired up enough to want to get through the work as quickly as possible, working out the frustration that Jack had sparked. But speed led to carelessness, and it took him a few choice words to get his new technique back and find his rhythm. A few corrections from Jack, including absolute denial of kissing and fondling, and he was good to go for the rest of the afternoon. When dusk fell, he tallied up his load for the day.
Eight sleepers. A bona fide Christmas miracle.
With a whoop, he leaped into Jack’s arms and kissed him deep and hard. Jack raced him through the forest and back to the camp, where they quickly stoked the fire and got its embers roaring again, hot enough to warm up a bit of meat Jack had set aside and boil water for some potatoes. They’d have a Christmas Eve feast, and then, in the warm of night, they’d sleep together under the stars.
The next day would be his Christmas gift. For the first time since arriving—indeed, for the first time since long before he had been scorned and banished—he was happy. The world outside could have ended, and he wouldn’t care.
He was here, happy, and with Jack. And Christmas was looking more than merry.
Jack offered him a bottle of lager. “I think today calls for a bit of a celebration, don’t you?”
He certainly did.
DAWN STIRRED him out of a restful slumber and into the warmth of Jack’s body draped over his. But right behind it came a splintering terror that jolted him fully awake.
They were going to get caught.
Sweat broke across his body, turning his skin clammy. He was trapped beneath Jack with no way to disguise what they’d been up to. Air fired in and out of his nose like a piston.
They were going to come in any second.
But no one did, and gradually his sense woke, soothing him into calming down. Breathing came easier and his heart slowed its thumping. No one there but him and Jack. No one was going to intrude.
When had it ever been like this?
When would it ever be like this again?
He snuggled closer, glad of Jack’s heavy frame to keep him safe. They had this day together; that was something. That was more than he’d gotten back home. And to think he had some blasted jarrah trees to thank for it.
Soon the light was enough to stir Jack, and he mumbled his good mornings into Charlie’s shoulder. Along with something that sounded like “Merry Christmas.”
Charlie kissed the giant awake, before slinking out of the makeshift bed and ambling naked into the forest to respond to nature’s call. What would it be like, just the two of them working in the forest together? Plenty of men worked alone at this, some in pairs. Their commune of five was already on the large side and unusual for the work they did. It was either small numbers or else the mills attracted men with their offers of cheap housing and steady work. Could he and Jack make a go of it on their own?
As far as the rest of the world would know, they’d be forest partners, but in the privacy of that forest….
As he drowned the sapling he stood over, he shook his head. He was getting carried away. It was nice to dream, but this could all be a moment in time that would flare and be gone and never come again. The men would return the day after next, and they’d go back to their silence. Then he’d leave because it would get too dangerous to be around Jack and not be able to look at him, touch him, hold him—maybe even love him.
He finished and wandered back to the camp. They had today. That was enough of a gift.
By the time he returned, Jack was up, the canvas rolled away, and all evidence of their night together removed. Jack was still naked, though, and the sight of his muscular back and his hard-as-rock buttocks and thighs stirred Charlie’s hunger. Breakfast wouldn’t do, especially a fistful of oats. He needed a serving of Jack Tapper.
But Jack had other ideas and was soon pulling on his trousers and looping his suspenders over his shoulders. When he turned to Charlie, standing bare-assed and erect, Jack couldn’t have smiled any bigger.
Lord…. He could live on those smiles alone.
“Anything I can help you with?” Jack asked.
“I’m sure you could, but it looks like you have other things in mind.” Charlie turned to his tent to put on his own clothes.
Jack leaped across the small clearing and grabbed him from behind. His mouth was hot against his ear, his breath insistent. “The only thing on my mind is you.”
But even so, Jack encouraged him to dress. Sitting naked on a log was a sure way of getting bitten by something, and those were the sorts of marks he didn’t want on his cheeks.
Jack cooked, raiding his stores for the best of what he had left, including, most precious of all, a couple of oranges. It was a miracle all of its own that they’d lasted this long. Ripe, juicy, and sweet, they were the perfect way to round out their breakfast.
The morning had wound on by the time they finished, the plates scraped, and they sat drinking the last of the tea, Charlie with his head resting in Jack’s lap. A peace settled over him, once he’d gotten past the feeling he should be out wor
king. Jack’s hand through his hair brushed away the guilt, and it was like the two of them were on holiday, taking a picnic before returning to their real lives. It reminded him of time spent with his parents and sister when they caught the train from Perth to Bunbury and had scones and tea and went swimming. Civilized, familial… and very missed.
“What are you thinking of?” Jack asked and then refused to be deterred by Charlie’s frown. “Your face went sad. What’s wrong?”
Their time together had been so idyllic and so brief that he hadn’t wanted to taint it with talk of his closed-hearted family, not when Jack had been so open about his dead lover. His troubles seemed petty by comparison. Prior to the incident with the widowmaker, being exiled from his family had felt like the worst thing in the world. Here, by Jack’s side… not so much. But he’d asked, and perhaps it would be a good way to exorcize his demons.
He sighed. “This reminds me of when I was on holiday with my family. The sun, the warmth, the relaxation. No cares, just… pleasure.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Sometimes. But since my father threatened to have me arrested if I ever showed up again, it’s not worth feeling so.”
For long moments, only the cicadas sang.
“He’d be that cruel?”
“He’s a policeman. An inspector.”
Jack whistled.
“Wouldn’t do to have my sort hanging around, you know.”
But his sister’s face…. The last time he’d seen her….
“And your mother?”
“Shock stole her words, I’m afraid. We didn’t get any last goodbyes. But through her tears I could see she considered me dead. My sister didn’t want me to go, but she hardly got a say in what happened. I miss her, little mite.”
Who was he fooling? He missed all of them. Missed how they’d been before he was discovered. Missed the family he’d once been a part of. But it was easy to forget how much strain it was, watching what he said and did all the time. Every hour of every day. And the endless questions about when he was going to get married….
“How’d they find out?”
“Father caught me, kissing Billy Cooper. Truth be told, we were in the process of getting a lot more physical when he walked in. Being an inspector didn’t stop him from beating half the life out of Billy. Perk of the job, I guess.” He shook his head. “That beautiful face, so broken….”
Jack stiffened in his seat.
“Don’t worry. Billy wasn’t the one for me. He liked to put it around a bit too much, if you know what I mean. Besides, last I heard, he’d skipped town for Melbourne. Wouldn’t do to live too close to the copper whose son you were diddling.”
Jack laughed and resumed stroking his hair. “I bet he thinks about you every day.”
“And how I got his face cracked. Poor Billy. I hope he’s better off.”
There wasn’t much in Perth for men like them. It was a miracle that they’d found each other at all. And it was a stroke of luck that his father was a copper; arresting Billy would have informed the whole city—and his superiors—of the vice that lived within an inspector’s own home. Better that he was sent packing with a few quid and told never to darken their door again. Unless it was with his blood.
“Why didn’t you follow him to Melbourne? There are easier lives to be had than as a faller.”
“I didn’t have enough money. Besides, what could Melbourne offer me? I’m set for England and that costs more than I could make in a regular job. I thought about joining the navy or becoming a merchant sailor, but I get seasick in a bathtub.” The crossing was not going to be fun, but at least as a passenger, he could sleep the forty days off if he wanted. “I figured this was far enough away from my family until I earned passage.”
Jack pressed his mouth against his head and breathed his next words. “And so that’s what brought you to me.”
It was impossible not to chuckle. “If I’m honest, at first I thought you were just another piece of rotten luck to fall my way.”
“Is that right?”
“Big, beautiful, broad… and would break my head if I so much as looked at you sideways.”
“I’m sorry I gave that impression.” Hurt stained his words.
Charlie reached up and stroked his cheek. “It was for the best, really. I’m sure it helped that I was utterly useless on the axe.”
“I thought you were a cruel temptation. I prayed you’d learn what you needed and move on quick. Keeping away from you was hard, especially as I recognized something in you; the kind of thing men like us can sense about each other.”
“I never sensed a thing from you; you hide it well.” Worry nibbled at the corner of his lip. “What exactly did you sense in me?”
He’d have to learn to shut that down if he was going to survive a world full of people like his father.
Those massive shoulders shrugged. “You’re different from the other cutters. Not as loud, not as easy around the fire. Not joining in with all the… talk. They accept that from me because I let my silence and my size tell the story; but you…. You’re a bit too open.”
A chill stopped his heart. “Do you think they know?”
Jack snorted. “They’ve probably never even met a shirt lifter before. They wouldn’t know what they were looking at.”
Clearly that was true, since Jack had worked amongst them for a while.
Charlie shivered as his chest thawed. “Dunno, I wouldn’t put it past Fred; something about that man smacks of depravity.”
“I think that’s the drink.”
“So, that’s why you stayed behind rather than go with them to town for Christmas? To find out if your instincts were correct?”
Jack blushed. “I hoped so. Mostly I wanted to help you out, so you could leave sooner. Plus, your swearing was getting a bit tiresome. I thought if I gave you some tips, you’d quieten down a bit. Else you were going to get yourself hurt.”
Heat rose in Charlie’s neck. “Incompetent and vulgar… I’m astonished you approached me at all.”
Then again, out here, a man couldn’t be too choosy about who he shared his bed with. That thought was like a smack in the face with frigid stream water.
“Don’t worry,” Jack said, misreading his grimace, “you’re a quick learner.”
And the flattery kept coming….
Charlie smiled, but it grew cold on his lips.
“Wait here.” Jack pushed him into a sitting position and levered himself free. “I’ve got something for you.”
He crossed to his tent, rummaged through his belongings, and paused for a moment, his broad back blocking the opening. When he returned, he held one of his books—a small one that looked even smaller in his big hands. He sank back down onto the ground and thrust it awkwardly forward.
Poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. The leather cover was worn and the pages thinning from repeated turning. He opened it, and on the inside cover, Jack had written:
Merry Christmas, Charlie. With love, Jack. 25 December 1912
“I’m sorry it’s not a new copy—they’re hard to come by out here—but I wanted to give you something. It’s my favorite.”
Charlie’s throat closed like it had been stoppered with a lump of rock. He didn’t want a new book; this was perfect. Jack’s beautiful hands had thumbed and strummed these pages. Something so treasured and given so generously.
“Oh God, I’m sorry.” Jack put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “I thought you could read. I didn’t mean—”
Charlie laughed, a tear leaking out along with a sniff, but he managed to hold the rest back as happiness swelled his heart. “Of course I can read.”
“Oh. Well, not everyone can. Sam can’t.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot Sam can’t do.” The man was only a few steps above being a mushroom. “No, I’m just… I don’t have a gift for you.”
He kept what he really wanted to say locked up tight. This was happening too fast, and he was afraid he was going to get
them both in trouble if he didn’t hold something back. They might have Christmas and Boxing Day, but if it was too good, it would leak into the day after and the day after that. Being where men had ready access to axes and no one to hear you scream was not as freeing as it might otherwise have been.
Jack scooped him up and kissed him on the lips. “You’ve given me everything I could possibly want.”
And Jack beamed when he said it. Charlie kissed him again, chaste, sweet, but so tender that something deep inside him broke to end it.
Jack, perhaps sensing the clouds gathering inside, hoisted Charlie over his shoulders, a startled cry jumping out and sending the honeyeaters fluttering. “Come on, time for a swim.”
“Put me down!” Charlie managed to demand between fits of laughter, but Jack wasn’t about to let him go, and he spun him this way and that as he picked up a blanket, grabbed some damper and jam, and lugged him to the river.
CHRISTMAS DAY and Boxing Day were about fun, about discovery, about freedom and about becoming closer than was wise. Then, when the twenty-seventh dawned, the last safe morning in Jack Tapper’s arms, the illusion that this was their camp came down with a thud as resounding as any of Jack’s axe strikes.
They woke, they ate, they washed, and they headed to the cut together, stopping along the way to kiss beneath this still-standing tree, to rut against that trunk, before they got busy carving sleepers out of a majestic jarrah. For Charlie, it was the greatest pleasure and pain to watch Jack’s beautiful body do what it was made to do, the sweat glistening along his muscles, seeing the straining strength of him. Wondering whether he’d ever get to experience it again. Gentle rebukes got him focused back on cutting sleepers, but it wasn’t long before he stopped to look again. Not just for the lust of it. Not just for the beauty of it. But also to retain the memory, to shore it up in his mind and lock it away so it could last the rest of his days, however many there might be. Soon enough the outside world would intrude again in the form of three loudmouthed, hungover sleeper cutters, and Jack would be back to his silent locked-up self. And Charlie…?
The Faller Page 3
