"Oh, Jack," said Matt, sounding so sad as he drew Jack back into another hug. He sighed deeply. "I'll miss you so."
But he didn't beg Jack to stay, and for that, Jack was deeply grateful. It would have torn him in half.
Matt carried his bag for him down to the fence, hugged him again, long and hard, and then watched him walk away, waving once, his gaze filled with longing.
Jack turned back and waved once more, then moved closer to his uncle, who didn't seem to mind when he walked so close they almost jostled shoulders. Lon glanced at him, a shrewd look. "He your boy?" he asked in that abrupt voice of his.
Jack shrugged. "I don't know what he'd have been, if I'd stayed," he answered honestly. "Too pretty for me, I guess." Even he heard the wistfulness in his voice.
Lon stopped in the road and faced him. Jack looked up, meeting his gaze, unafraid. Even though he hadn't known his uncle long, he trusted him, just bone-deep trusted him. Lon held no judgment towards him. It was what let him answer honestly.
Now his uncle searched his face for a long moment.
"Invite him," said Lon at last. "If you want him, he can come. We'll make room, even if he's gadjo. We won't lose you again." He clapped a heavy hand on Jack's shoulder and squeezed. Then abruptly moved his hand, as if feeling he'd said too much. "I'll wait here."
Jack's mouth was dry. He felt exposed as he realized what was happening here. This was real: not half-lingered-upon thoughts, wishes he didn't let himself have. If he ran back, he'd have to admit he cared for Matt, wanted him as more than a friend. And so far he'd barely admitted that to himself.
On the other hand, not going back when he had the opportunity would be so cowardly. To give up his one chance to say what he felt would be dreadful.
And he could tell Matt; he'd be leaving either way. They wouldn't have to live rubbing elbows with each other, that unwanted knowledge between them, if it turned out to be unwanted.
He looked at his uncle and then back at the gate. Matt was still watching him. He was too far away for Jack to see his face clearly, but his posture looked sad.
Grabbing his courage with both hands, taking a deep breath, Jack turned and ran back. "You can come. My uncle says you can come, if you want," he said breathlessly. He hitched his bag up higher; it was banging against his ribs from running, hurting, feeling like one of his boots was kicking him.
They stared at each other. Wetness clung to Matt's lower lashes. He licked his lips, drawing back a little, looking scared and vulnerable. "I— Why would he…?"
Jack blushed, hot and fierce. "Because he thinks I fancy you. And I do."
Matt's face heated, and a little smile spread to become bigger and bigger. "Oh." He glanced back at the mansion dismissively, and then said, "Let me get my things." He spoke in a strange voice, as if he wasn't quite there, but Jack could hear how close he was to crying.
"You like me too?" Jack pushed, wanting to be certain.
"Oh yes," said Matt softly, and there was a great deal of feeling behind those quiet words.
Jack found himself grinning really hard. He dropped his bag in the dirt and pulled Matt close into a quick, hard kiss, full on the mouth. "Beautiful boy," he murmured as they drew apart, and stroked Matt's neck with one thumb.
Matt flushed, adorable in his confusion. He licked his bright lips, and his nostrils flared a little. He stared at Jack, just stared at him, and then pulled him gently into another kiss.
Kissing was a new experience, and Jack probably wasn't doing it quite right, but it felt amazing anyway. He finally drew away reluctantly. "Get your things. Or, no," he said suddenly, afraid the wizard would stop them, or Adrienne, or Matt's own better sense. "Just come. I have enough for both of us."
Matt's mouth looked vulnerable and damp from the kissing. "You…sure?"
Jack nodded, suddenly unable to speak, afraid to let Matt out of his sight, to lose him again. "Do come."
Matt's smile spread wide and white. "All right." He opened the gate and stepped out, his steps light and carefree. He cast Jack an adoring look, and Jack wondered how he'd not seen it before. Matt found him attractive, and liked him. A lot.
They walked so close their arms brushed.
"This is my uncle Lon," said Jack, as if this was the sort of introduction he did every day. "And this is Matt. Matthew Cullican."
Matt held out a hand to shake. "How do you do, sir?"
Lon, looking him over carefully, gave him a slow nod. "Can you do anything useful?" he asked.
Matt flushed harder. Jack didn't envy him that. "I—I can learn, sir. I do know a bit of magic."
"He's good at healing," said Jack, sticking up for him. "Fixed me right up after a fight."
Lon's eyebrows rose. "Useful enough." He held out a hand now and shook Matt's. "Welcome."
They hurried back, the three of them, Matt offering to carry the bag part of the way. Jack shook his head, not wanting to look weak in front of his uncle. It was more bulky than heavy, anyway.
He couldn't think of anything besides the kissing for a long while. Already, those moments of kissing Matt ranked up there with the best of his life—and finding his family last night had made the standard of good moments pretty hard to live up to.
They bumped shoulders and smiled at each other, and his lips tingled. So did other parts of him. They looked away from one another quickly, Matt blushing, Jack biting his lip.
Lon walked ahead, and either didn't notice or pretended not to.
Everything was packed up and ready for departure, as if everyone felt the need for hurrying. Ashes from the fires were spread out, even the broken glass gone. Horses were hitched to tidy little wagons, goats tethered behind. Children clustered round their families, dogs with their people, and a few extra horses held riders, mostly smallish children. Jack thought they looked too little to control such large beasts. He didn't know much about horses, though, and the children looked at home on their backs, even without saddles.
Lon got to work starting up his rusty, battered motorcar, without pausing to introduce Matt to anyone. He wore a tight frown as he worked the crank, his muscles straining inside his shirt.
Now Jack noticed that his cousin was one of the riders, surprisingly small-looking on a gigantic horse. He waved to her. She hopped down and strode over confidently. She wore trousers that were wide and swishy at the bottom, and looked almost like a skirt when she walked.
Jack swallowed hard. Petra stopped in front of them, hands planted on her hips, her eyes skeptical as she looked Matt up and down, then turned her gaze to Jack.
He cleared his throat and put an arm around Matt's shoulders. "Lon said he could come." It came out sounding defensive, and not as strong and confident as he wanted. But all the same, Matt seemed quietly delighted.
Petra snorted inelegantly, and then she nodded, a tiny, wicked smile on her mouth. "Thought you weren't very interested in dancing with me."
He was surprised to find he could blush harder than pale-skinned Matt. "Uh…you're my cousin," he mumbled. "You and I couldn't…marry each other."
She gave him a saucy wink as she turned away, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Who said anything about marrying?"
Lon's car started with a grumbling bang, and belched dark smoke. "Boy!" he called, motioning for Jack.
Jack started forward, but Matt hesitated. Jack grabbed his hand and then Matt came with him, running after him, keeping up easily. Matt's hand was sweaty, and he seemed scared to hold on too tight.
"Ride up with me," said Lon, taking in the two of them.
Jack scrambled up first so he could sit nearer his uncle, and by the gearbox. He already loved his uncle fiercely, for looking so much like him, for wanting to hurt anyone who'd hurt him, and for telling him Matt could come along.
Matt sat beside him, their thighs pressed near one another, and the car jounced along, showing them a fast-paced view of the world. Matt must look odd there, the one pale-headed man among a crew of dark-haired swarthiness.
Jack leaned against him after a while, capturing his hand again and squeezing. In this moment, he was utterly and completely happy.
After a bit, he moved closer to his uncle, and raised his voice to be heard over the car's angry engine. "Who is my father, then?"
Lon glanced at him, as if gauging something, wary all of a sudden. "You want to see him?"
Jack smiled and shook his head. "No. Just want to know. Maybe I've met him already?"
"You're with us now, boy. It doesn't matter." He put an arm around Jack and tugged him briefly closer, giving him a rough pat on the side. Lon squeezed him tightly, almost painfully, his face fierce and grim, as if seeing something far away that made him very sad.
"I know, I was just curious. You won't really attack him, will you?" He looked up at his uncle, searching his face. He couldn't believe he felt such trust for this fierce man, just because they looked alike. Maybe he really could sense the same blood running through their veins. He felt so very safe with Lon, as if he'd never been safer in his life.
"Nay, can't go to jail. Family needs me." Lon shook his head regretfully. "He's a wicked man, and God'll make him pay, though. Someday. You wait."
Jack nodded, not sure what he thought about the subject but glad to hear Lon no longer contemplated doing violence to the man. Jack leaned against his uncle, resting his head on his shoulder. "Just his name?" he asked.
Lon pressed a quick, hard kiss against the top of his head. "Pushy lad," he rumbled, sounding more pleased than not. He released Jack and nudged him back a little so he could reach the gearbox. "Oliver Keenes."
Jack blinked, going cold. "I nearly broke his son's arm."
Lon's laugh was rough and deep, shaking his whole body.
Matt squeezed Jack's hand tighter, and he looked at Jack anxiously. "You all right?" he asked, leaning nearer so their heads almost touched.
"Oh yes." Jack reached up and stroked Matt's hair gingerly back from his face. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You just found out you—" Matt couldn't go on, biting his lips, his eyes filled with compassionate concern. Once, it would have troubled Jack, made him feel vulnerable and afraid. But now he felt so light and full and clear inside. Matt was worried because he cared for Jack. And he wasn't the only one anymore. Both revelations freed Jack to be happier than he could ever remember being before.
"But I have people who want me now," said Jack quietly, leaning closer yet. "You. And my family. What does it matter about him? I've never had so much before." He moved a little closer.
Lon nudged him. "Best not, in public," was his laconic drawl.
Jack and Matt backed away from each other instead of kissing, and settled back to enjoy the bumpy ride.
It wasn't till their first stop that Matt got to meet Ulis, and even then, Jack didn't get to see the interaction. They were separated in the hurry to fix lunch and take bathroom breaks and care for the animals. He was helping feed one of the horses with a nosebag, trying to ignore his rumbling stomach and wondering where Matt was, when he glimpsed Matt walking next to Grandma, hunching a little so he could talk to her more easily, keeping pace with her and moving slowly. He looked like he was listening hard, nodding at something she said. She looked up at Matt, her eyes squinted like she was trying to be fierce with him. But Jack could see she liked him a great deal already. It made his heart fill even more.
He hurried to finish feeding the horse, pausing to stroke it almost guiltily. The wizard didn't have a horse, and nobody else liked Jack being around their animals. It felt like an unexpected treat to be allowed to feed and touch a real live horse, without anyone chasing him away or calling him names or thinking he was trying to steal it or its food.
They were too busy travelling for the next few days to have any peace to explore the fragile new thing between himself and Matt. They exchanged a lot of looks and words, a few snatched kisses, and held hands as much as they could get away with. But there was work to do and exhausted sleep to fall into. Jack had rarely worked as hard, even though he'd always been a hard worker, and Matt was completely exhausted by their days on the road.
At last, their pace slackened a bit, as if they were now safely away. They started heading for a place to set up camp, a safe place. Lon seemed calmer, no longer worried. He even let Jack take a few minutes each morning to tinker with the motorcar's engine, if he got up early enough.
Sometimes Lon stood and watched, drinking his thick black coffee that smelled so beautiful in the morning air, looking on with something like approval, grunting his greeting and then walking away, pretending he wasn't still watching Jack work.
Though the motorcar wasn't as good as the wizard's machinery, Jack handled it with loving care. It belonged to his uncle, and he would baby the tired old thing as well as he could to extend its ancient life. Already he felt proprietary and protective, and if it coughed or stalled he was quick to jump down and run to the engine to see if he could nurse it along.
Just outside a small, sleepy village, they finally set up camp. The farmer on whose land they stayed came out to greet them, to talk with Lon. They nodded, exchanged a few words, and then the man walked off. The next day, he brought some pots and pans to be repaired and a skittish, wild-eyed horse.
Jack watched more than he asked questions. He couldn't cure himself of that habit so quickly; it had given him safety in the past. He was interested in the horse, but he waited to see what would happen instead of asking. He thought someone would ride or tame it, but nothing much happened at first. It just followed along with the other horses that were now free to graze, as if it was one of them. It had a distinct white marking on its shoulder, or Jack wouldn't have been able to tell it apart from them. He wondered what would happen to it, but life had slowed down now, and nobody seemed in a hurry. So he waited to find out.
Finally, he got to spend the first night with Matt, alone, in one of the caravans. Nobody said a word, but his cousin winked at him, and some of the men didn't want to meet his gaze that night. Matt was one of them, blushing so hard he looked like a beet.
But it was different inside the caravan.
"It's just that I feel like I'm your woman, and they're only tolerating me," he explained to Jack, as he began to undo his shirt. "They all know what we're doing in here, but they probably think we've done it before, that we know what we're doing. I don't," he admitted, and Jack had never heard him sound so shy—nor had he ever felt so protective.
"Well, we'll figure it out," he said, and his voice sounded so soft and gentle he was surprised it came from him.
The smile Matt gave him was brilliant. "Oh yes. I believe we will."
He wondered sometimes if Matt would regret coming along, or get homesick and leave soon, but he never wondered when they were alone. Then, Matt belonged to him and he belonged to Matt, and there was nothing else in the world, no pulls on either of them except each other.
Matt was even more beautiful without clothing on. It was very special, learning to make love, together.
If anyone didn't approve, Lon had put a stop to whatever they might have said or done.
Ulis harrumphed a couple of times, made passing remarks that indicated she wondered when she'd ever get great-grandchildren, but nobody paid much mind. She was growing fonder of Matt all the time, and having to work harder and harder to hide it. His skills with magic, his gentle healing touch, eased the pain that walking and movement created in her hips and joints. Soon she could stand a little straighter, breathe a little easier, and move around more freely. When she looked at Matt, it was easy to see she liked him, was proud to have him join the family, even if he was the wrong gender to have Jack's children.
After that first night, they got to spend almost every night alone. It was a heaven-like haven, something Jack had never expected to find in life. Someone who wanted him, and whom he wanted back. Sometimes they could spend all night just touching, exploring each other, enjoying each other, and talking and kissing lazily.
Among the travelers
, nobody told Jack what to do, although occasionally someone asked him for help with something that needed done. Everyone seemed to pitch in where needed and otherwise fill their own hours.
There were patterns, though, and he fell into them easily, with relief.
The travelers enjoyed their now-calmer evenings around communal fires, making music and delicious meals, and toasting each other occasionally with alcohol. During the day, the men went looking for work on farms or traded for metal repair work.
Sometimes they came home with new horses, leaving others in the village to pull wagons and carry riders. The horses they traded off were all beautiful, sleek and healthy creatures, and Jack was surprised how sad he was to see them go. Even though he had barely touched any of them so far, and certainly hadn't tried to ride any, he missed them.
The small children spent hours with the horses, riding them barebacked—even quite small children. Jack wanted to learn to ride, too, but was not feeling brave enough to ask someone to teach him, or confident enough to risk laughter if he tried on his own.
Anyway, there was always machinery. He went into the village with some of the men, and, shyly at first, then with growing confidence, began to sell his services as a repairman.
The first time he fixed a tractor engine for money, he couldn't remember being prouder of himself, and his smile was far bigger than the smile of the farmer who shook his hand and gave him his money.
He started charging a little more each time, till he reached the point of his clients feeling like they'd gotten a deal without looking as if they'd gotten something nearly for free. It took him time to learn what his work was worth, but he did learn; also about different sorts of machinery. There was a new, mechanical washing machine he spent a whole day taking apart lovingly and fitting back together, just so he could learn how it worked. He almost didn't like to charge for fixing it, since he'd never even seen one before, and now he knew enough that he could've made one of his own.
His Kind of Home Page 5
