His Kind of Home

by Hollis Shiloh

  He went back to his machines, but couldn't keep himself from checking every few minutes.

  Matt didn't run the push mower over the lawn, but then why should he? Jack had kept the blades short and tamed, an even length all over. Matt frowned at the grass, as though it didn't please him, but he didn't try to cut it further. That mollified Jack a little bit. He wished everyone wasn't so dismissive of his gardening efforts. He thought he'd done well, except for the hedges, and the vegetables that wouldn't grow. And, well, the roses.

  All right, so maybe I'm a terrible gardener. He scuffed his sole along the ground, kicking at a loose stone that skittered out of the garage and flopped on the earth—to land at Matt's feet. When had he come back? They both stared at the stone a moment, and then he looked up to meet Matt's face.

  The gardener's gaze was inquiring and polite, and somehow very upper class, although he did seem to be trying to be friendly. "I'm afraid I forgot to ask. When is lunch?" He raised his pale brows slightly and clearly tried to smile a little, although it didn't quite work on his serious, watchful face.

  "Noon," said Jack shortly. He dropped his gaze to the floor again. The sight of Matt made him feel awful about himself. Ugly, unkempt, and gross. "An' it's just a sandwich in the kitchen, so don't get your hopes up."

  He turned back to the machine and stared at it, waiting. He didn't hear any footsteps going away. When he turned around again, Matt was still there, watching him, a sad, rather hurt look on his face. "Do you have to hate me?" he asked quietly.

  Jack shrugged. "I-I don't."

  "You act like it." He moved forward, pressing his lips together. "Why won't you look at me, or talk to me, or something? Tell me about your engine?" He stopped next to Jack, close enough to his shoulder that he could feel the warmth of the nearby body.

  "What do you care?" asked Jack. He reached up to wipe at his face, probably leaving more greasy marks. "You'll come in here being all perfect and they won't want me anymore."

  "Who won't? The wizard and the cook?"

  He nodded wretchedly.

  "I can't take your place, and I wouldn't want to. I'm no good at engines. Can't we be—not-enemies?"

  Jack's mouth cracked into a faint smile. He stopped feeling as though he wanted to cry or hit something and started feeling as though he might laugh. Matt had clearly been about to ask if they could be friends. That he could feel vulnerable enough to hesitate on the words and change them quickly made Jack feel lighter inside and less insecure.

  "Maybe," he said, trying to feign nonchalance. He managed a one-shouldered shrug. "But I'm not tellin' you about engines so you can roll your eyes!"

  "I… wouldn't."

  "And I don't think I did such a bad job with the garden at all." He crossed his arms over his chest and turned a defiant glare on Matt.

  Matt's jaw dropped—only a bit, and only for an instant, but plenty long enough to see the shock on his face. His blue eyes shone with surprise. "That was…you?"

  Jack's eyes narrowed. "Who else?" He crossed his arms harder, trying to look mean, to let Matt see he was tough and wiry and had muscles in his arms.

  "Well, I mean, do they have you do everything round here?" He reached up and ran his fingers back through his hair, and he must've been flustered, because there was dirt on his fingers and now some of it marred his pristine yellow hair.

  Jack narrowed his eyes, considering. He didn't loosen his arms, though. Matt seemed just slightly impressed or intimidated, and he didn't want to give up any faint advantage. Matt looked so strong and perfect and well-formed, while the only thing Jack could possibly have going for him was looking like a tough bastard. Which he was. Sort of.

  "I burn and compost the garbage. I get the wood for the fireplace in and take care of the car and the boiler. I also do—did—the gardening." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

  "N-Nothing." Matt raised his hands, stepping back a little. "It just seems a bit much for one man, that's all."

  Jack smiled at being called a man, and uncrossed his arms. "Oh, well, I didn't mean I chop all the wood myself. We get cords of it. I just split it and stack it."

  "That's still a lot. Don't they have any more help around here?" He eyed Jack as though he was impressed, and slightly concerned.

  "Adrienne does the cooking and marketing. A few girls come in from the village to help with the cleaning and laundry." The girls all looked the same to him, short and giggly and going red-faced if he so much as looked at them. He liked to stay in his shed and do loud and dangerous things when they were here.

  "And what do you do for fun?" asked Matt. His mouth edged up into a slightly wicked smile. "Drink too much?"

  "You!" Jack lunged for him.

  Matt evaded, putting up his hands and stumbling backwards, giggling. Jack caught Matt one quick, hard little punch on the arm and then stood back abruptly. Matt reached up to rub his arm, still laughing. His eyes held something fond and relieved and a little bit hesitant. He didn't speak, just rubbed his arm quickly and then dropped his hand and looked at Jack. There was something in his gaze that Jack didn't understand, something humble, gentle, and questioning. He didn't know the words or feelings to describe that look—and anyway, it was gone in an instant. He might have imagined it.

  He cleared his throat. "I play baseball. And I go to the pictures on Saturday."

  "They do pay you, then?" said Matt. "I was starting to wonder if you were the serf or something."

  "Yes, of course they pay me. Not much, but probably more than you'll get."

  Matt smiled faintly, as if he wasn't worried about that. Of course he wasn't, the wealthy prick. "Do you ever get time off to go and see your family?"

  Jack's face went blank. He tried not to feel so hurt. That automatic assumption that he must have a family somewhere, someone who loved him to go and visit, cut deep. The truth was the wizard and Adrienne the cook were the closest people he'd ever had to family, and he often felt like he just annoyed them. He thought again of insulting Adrienne's desserts, and winced inwardly.

  Matt was staring at him as though mesmerized, looking closer and searching his face. "What? What did I say?"

  "I'm sure they'll give you time off if you want it," said Jack. "I'm an orphan."

  "Oh."

  He crossed his arms again tightly. "Came here straight from the orphanage, aged twelve. So if you've got something to say about that, you'd better spit it out now. Because I won't pull my punches if I hear you sayin' it behind my back later on."

  Matt grinned suddenly. "You're cute when you're fierce." He moved closer and gave Jack a light thump on the arm. "Hey, you can't help it you're an orphan! Who would make remarks about that? Let's just see about those sandwiches, all right?" And he somehow or other got Jack into step with him and put an arm around his shoulder like they were old friends.

  He was still reeling from the "cute." And the way Matt's face hadn't changed at the mention of orphan, to look like he'd seen a bug.

  Matt even ate politely. He washed his hands twice without being told before they sat down, and even combed his hair.

  Adrienne was still angry with Jack. That much was clear while they chomped through their ham sandwiches.

  "You could follow his example," she said with a scowl, slapping a pot of soup onto the table and glaring at Jack. "Those curls of yours are wild as steel wool!"

  Matt cast him an appraising, friendly look. "I don't know. Kind of nice, if you ask me." He took another careful bite, watching Jack over his sandwich with his eyes twinkling. Jack couldn't figure out that new kind of teasing, so he just scowled.

  "Covered in grease all day, like a little monkey. Never wipes his feet…" She returned to the stove, muttering about his many ills. Jack ducked his head, reddening. He did wipe his feet—sometimes.

  "That reminds me, ma'am," said Matt in his cultured voice, not even talking around his sandwich. "How about a bath tonight?"

  They both stared at him. "What?" asked Adrienne, putting down a lid with a bang. />
  "We are able to take baths every night, aren't we? Or is it too much trouble out here, where there's no running water?"

  "There's plenty of running water," Jack informed him quietly. "It's all set up. Runs on magic. It just needs heated the old fashioned way. We usually only get baths on Saturday."

  Matt turned to stare at him slowly. "Once a week?" His face looked like a cat that had smelled lemons, repulsed and appalled. "How are you expected to stay clean when you do manual labor all week?"

  Jack shrugged. "Wash with a basin every night and morning. Works for us." He took a big spoonful of soup and slurped it down.

  Matt turned to Adrienne. "Well, that's simply unacceptable. I'll require baths every night. Jack and I can share the water, so it won't be a waste, if you'd like." He looked at her with his confident, open gaze, clearly expecting to be accommodated.

  Her mouth dropped open. She turned to look at Jack helplessly, apparently forgetting she was angry with him. He looked back, waiting for her decision. Bath night had been once a week since he came here, and it had seemed both a big chore and an impossible luxury at the time. A bath every night would mean heating the boiler every night, and lots of extra wood used up. If the wizard didn't mind, he supposed it was all right. But he'd make Matt help him.

  "The cost for extra heating can come out of my pay, if it's a problem," said Matt with dignity.

  "Um, yes." Adrienne looked relieved.

  "You'll have to help me stoke the boiler." Jack took another bite of soup, savoring the bit of meat he got.

  "Of course. Then that's settled." He smiled at them both. "That will be excellent. By the way, I forgot to ask—where do I sleep?"

  Jack drank the rest of his soup quickly, even though it burned a little, and scraped back his chair and jumped up, grabbing his sandwich—and then another one. "Got to go for baseball. Bye. Thank you for lunch," he called quickly, running the words together and then jamming a bite of sandwich into his mouth so no one could ask him any questions.

  They looked at him.

  "Your cap," said Adrienne, nodding to the hook by the door. He'd nearly walked out bareheaded.

  He grabbed it and jammed it on his head, and ran out the door. Behind him he heard her say, "Honestly, that boy would forget his head if it wasn't attached."

  But at least he didn't have to hear where Matt would be sleeping.

  He could see which way the wind was blowing. It would be a nice bedroom, one of the many rooms in the wizard's voluminous and clean house, not a cot in the laundry room, like Jack had had since he came here years ago. And he just didn't want to hear it. He already had enough of a chip on his shoulder about Matt, and he had the feeling if he could get it off, they might actually be friends.

  Baseball went poorly. The boys were in a foul mood today. Most of them worked at farms or stores in town, and they saw one another more than he saw any of them. He'd never been particularly close friends with any of them—he was still an orphan and an outcast, no matter how much he grew up—but it was particularly bad today. Two of the boys called him 'gyppo' and laughed, and Keenes hit him on the knee with a poor throw of the baseball.

  It was probably an accident and his own clumsiness for not avoiding it. Probably. But he didn't think of that at the time, just lunged for Casey Keenes and punched him. The two of them rolled around in the dirt, fighting like alley cats, until the other boys yanked Jack off. They were rough about it too, and that was pretty much the end of the game.

  He went home after only an hour, bruised up, still furious, and feeling extremely low.

  He tried to clean up a bit outside, but it didn't do much good, and he had to walk through the kitchen door eventually, keeping his head down to hide his black eye. Adrienne saw, of course. The woman had eyes like a hawk. "Honestly, are you at it again?" She clucked at him, raising her voice. "You ought to be whipped for all the fights you get into!"

  Matt looked up from the kitchen table, where he wore shirtsleeves that were rolled up to past the elbows. They showed his pale, interesting arms. He'd been reading the paper, looking particularly neat and well-groomed, calm and cultured.

  He took in Jack, startled, and then smiled and rose. He even did that smoothly, like he hadn't an awkward bone in his beautiful body. "There you are. Can you show me how the boiler works?"

  Jack gave a stiff jerk of a nod, and clumped to the bathroom to wash up first. He used a basin of cold water and winced when he tried to touch his eye.

  "Can I help?" Matt leaned in the doorway, and his voice sounded surprisingly intimate. "I mean…" He cleared his throat, and blushed slightly. "I could heal your black eye. So she doesn't tease you about it. She's quick to point out any imperfection, isn't she?"

  He moved forward while Jack was considering, and took Jack's face gingerly in his hands, tilting it to face him. "Let me see." He had a nice, quiet face, and his expression was friendly, gentle, interested and pleased, as if he liked what he saw. But that couldn't be the case, because nobody liked what they saw when they looked at Jack—nobody but the giggly servant girls from the village, and they made him feel irritable, all knees and elbows and thick tongue. He didn't feel any of those things with Matt.

  Matt touched his fingers gently against Jack's skin, smiling faintly. It was almost a caress. "There, that should be better almost immediately." He drew back slowly, almost as if he didn't want to.

  Indeed, the pain receded quickly. "Thanks," said Jack stiffly, still bristling from the fight and the name-calling and Adrienne thinking he fought all the time on purpose.

  He turned away and finished washing quickly, with rougher movements now that he wasn't so tender. "The boiler's out back. We stoke it with wood. It doesn't take long once it gets going." He found he didn't mind explaining how it worked, because Matt seemed genuinely interested.

  He led the way to the boiler room filled with copper pipes and interesting machinery, and the two of them got a fire going in no time. They got the water heated and piped into the bathroom, and Matt headed in first, to take his bath.

  Jack found he was excited about the possibility of being clean on a Tuesday. Maybe having Matt here would be rather nice. He thought again of that touch to his face, and the way the pain went away. It made him feel good inside, like there was a small, safe, warm spot inside him now, one that maybe he could think about when he felt particularly fierce and desperate and unloved.

  After a few minutes, Matt emerged with damp hair, looking more squeaky clean than ever. His pale skin was pink and rosy from being freshly washed, and he tossed Jack a grin and a fresh towel. "Your turn."

  Was that a wink? Surely not…

  Jack hurried into the bathroom to revel in the warm water. The copper tub was warm and the room steamy, the water nearly clean. He lowered himself into it and soaked away the aches and the filth, and spent a long time getting his nails clean, using up lots and lots of soap.

  When he emerged, he found Adrienne sitting there fuming, a bathing cap on her head. "You needn't have taken all day. I want to have a bath too, while the boiler's still hot!"

  He opened his mouth, shut it again. It wasn't still hot. They would have to heat more water. But just then Matt came indoors, dusting his hands off. "We're up to temperature, ma'am. You're all set."

  He stopped at the sight of Jack, and a slow smile spread across his face. "Hello." His eyes were just slightly hooded now, and he looked at Jack, a quick, interested up-and-down look that seemed to take in his whole shape with appreciation. For a moment, Jack felt as if he was wearing less than nothing. Maybe he should've put his shirt on before emerging from the bathroom. He often forgot about modesty, even though Adrienne scolded him sometimes for being so rude as to walk around without a shirt on.

  She harrumphed her way into the bathroom, shutting the door hard. Matt stood there with that half-smile on his face, just watching Jack. "Hello," he said again.

  Jack nodded, feeling confused, and then prickly, and then sort of hot inside. Oh. Oh.


  That couldn't be, could it? Matt thought he was good-looking? Attractive? He carried his dirty clothes to the laundry room.

  "I'll see you tomorrow?" called Matt after him, raising his voice slightly, as if he wanted to come after Jack and talk to him more.

  "Unless you get fired overnight," said Jack, relishing the thought for one wicked moment, and then regretfully giving it up. Matt was here to stay, he was almost certain of it. But that might not be a completely bad thing. Confusing, maybe. But not bad…

  A quiet knock roused Jack. He stirred slightly on his cot, which creaked under him. It was a thin mattress, comfortably worn. He folded an old quilt over it to cover the barer spots. "Mm. Yes?" He pushed the blanket down and squinted over it to…Matt.

  Jack woke up quickly at the sight. Matt stood in the doorway of the laundry room, a careful, surprised—even slightly shocked—look on his face. He was looking around, and trying not to stare at Jack.

  "What is it?" For some reason he wanted to pull the covers higher and burrow down like a rabbit in a hole. He didn't want Matt looking like that—appalled. It wasn't so bad a place to sleep, was it? The cot creaked a little, even though he'd barely done more than breathe. He'd learned to be very still when he slept, so as not to make too much noise or fall out of bed.

  "You sleep here." Matt's voice was flat, angry. He shook himself, and walked over to Jack, his steps long and confident. His eyes were glittering and hard. "Never mind. I wanted to ask you if I could play baseball with you tonight, if there's a game."

  He grimaced. He didn't want to think about baseball. "There probably won't be a game till later this week." At least not one they want me at.

  "Will you let me come with you next time there is?" Matt sounded hesitant, but he took another step, moving slowly like he didn't want to scare Jack.