His Kind of Home

by Hollis Shiloh

  As for Matt, he offered his services as a gardener and a minor magic worker. His light healing touch found demand among people suffering the aches and pains of old age, especially. "I'm not good enough to heal most illness, but I can ease pain really well," he confided to Jack. He seemed to assess his own strengths and weaknesses frankly, and sometimes Jack wondered if he underestimated himself.

  Sometimes he looked at Matt and thought there wasn't anything Matt couldn't do. The sun shone through his hair like a halo, and for Jack, his smile lit the world brighter than sunshine.

  Images swirled, feelings troubled his sleep, and Jack tossed and turned. He felt something was trying to reach him. Suddenly, he sat up, blinking hard, reaching for Matt.

  "Matty," he gasped. "I—I heard something."

  Matt sat up abruptly, blinking, his hair a mess. He made a small light in the palm of his hand so they could see one another. His eyes were dilated, filled with concern. "What?" he gasped.

  "The wizard. He—he just sent me a message. Or else it was a really vivid dream." Now more fully awake, no longer as startled, he looked away, biting his lip.

  "What did he say?" Matt's voice was tender and gentle.

  He told me I was an ungrateful gypsy brat, and he and Adrienne had found new help. "They've replaced me," he said softly. "I hope they treat the new kid better." But somehow, he doubted it. They weren't looking for a new family member, the way an orphan would hope. They wanted a servant. It still hurt, though not as much as that knowledge would once have done.

  "I'm sorry," said Matt, rubbing a hand on his chest. He bit his lip, looking down, practically radiating guilt.

  "What?" Jack stared at him, blinking. "What is it? Something wrong?" He touched Matt's face gingerly.

  "No, I…there's something I never told you." By the low light, his face looked sad and worried.

  Jack closed his arms around Matt, tugging him closer.

  "I didn't think it's important, but, well, maybe you will." He hesitated. "Will you tell me if you feel any differently?"

  Jack stared at him, nodded slowly. His heart thumped painfully at the thought of Matt leaving him. He couldn't speak.

  But instead Matt cleared his throat and looked down, vulnerable from more than his nakedness. "I wanted to be a wizard's apprentice. I couldn't get anyone to take me on. I suppose I don't have enough magic. But…but there was a listing for a gardener, at your wizard's home. So I went there, and hoped I'd learn a little magic on the side." He sighed and looked up, his eyes wistful and confiding, his expression insecure. "Are you angry? I don't want you to feel like I tricked you, because I never meant to. But I did have a plan when I came there. Then I met you, and you mattered more than anything."

  "Okay. I…I understand. Thanks for telling me. You…you matter most, too." Jack drew Matt closer, kissing him again and again, so relieved he wasn't losing the most important person in his life.

  And I won't, he told himself fiercely. After all, some of the travelers knew a bit about magic, and they were teaching Matt too, in that quiet way of theirs, a little at a time. There were no book lessons here, just working side by side, learning passed along naturally.

  "You can ride?" Jack stared up at Matt sitting up quite straight on a horse, riding bareback in his new traveler-style clothing. It made Jack's breath catch, both the unexpectedness of seeing Matt up there, and his gorgeous, regal bearing.

  Matt smiled down at Jack sweetly, leaning forward gingerly to give the horse a pat. "Of course. Can't you?"

  Jack shook his head, throat tight with jealousy. "Isn't it hard?"

  "Well, harder without a saddle," Matt admitted, and smiled. "Why don't you get your uncle to teach you?" He nodded past Jack, and Jack turned, stricken by self-consciousness, to see Lon watching him, his arms crossed, one brow raised.

  "Yes, why don't you?" Lon asked.

  Jack felt his cheeks heat. "I—"

  "It looks more foolish not to ask for help, boy," said Lon, in a surprisingly mild voice. "Come on. You can learn on Peony. She's a gentle one." He turned away, clearly expecting Jack to follow.

  He cast one helpless look back at Matt, and then followed his uncle, sighing inwardly.

  "If you fall, I'll fix your bruises," Matt called after him.

  And he did.

  When they moved on from that spot, there was another spot at another village, and the farmer's skittish horse came with them. It was treated just like the others, fed and cared for and handled calmly, never locked up or saddled. Jack expected to see it become wilder, but it grew steadily tamer. It came to people on purpose now, both for treats and for affection. It lowered its head and switched its tail, feeling friendly, and the grownups could now ride it bareback. They didn't let the children ride it yet, though.

  Jack's own riding progress was awkward and stilted, but he ended every riding lesson with fewer bumps and bruises than the last time, and fewer sore muscles. Lon was patient with him, trusting him, teaching him not just how to ride but all the names for the parts of the horse, how to feed and water and care for them, how to recognize health problems, and all different sorts of horses and their strengths and weaknesses and how to judge their quality. Not just their wagon horses, the cobs, but all sorts of horses.

  He knew he'd only scratched the surface of everything there was to learn about horses, but every day brought more nuggets of knowledge, and the learning thrilled him. It must also be admitted that he soaked up the time spent under his uncle's tutelage, since he adored Lon more and more all the time. He'd longed fruitlessly for a father figure for so many years and never found one, and now he had an actual uncle!

  The man was generous with him. Lon would never be terribly talkative, although he'd open up about certain subjects. But his heart was so kind and open to Jack, he would answer any question. Jack reveled in it, in having people who cared about him.

  His grandmother, Ulis, seemed to feel the same way, and even Petra, though she teased him, was clearly fond of him. It meant the world to him, to feel as if he mattered to them even if he wasn't useful to them. Of course that made him want to be even more useful.

  His cousin no longer tried to flirt with him, and became more like his sister. Their grandmother sometimes had to stop them squabbling, as Jack's prickly nature meant he was still pretty insecure at times. But that happened less and less as he grew surer of their affection for him, and no longer felt like such an outsider.

  He let his hair grow, and Matt let his grow as well. Jack's became an unruly mop of curls he was proud to see blended him even more fully in with the other travelers, as if his hair had known the secret of his heritage all along.

  Matt just looked like an angel no matter what he did. But he would never, never blend in.

  Matt licked the end of a pencil, his face a mask of concentration. He pressed the postcard he'd bought up against the wall of the post office building so he could write his note.

  Jack leaned against the wall near him, arms crossed, keeping an eye on the foot traffic. Because they were both now travelers, he had to keep a wary eye out to danger for both of them. Matt wore the same kind of clothing he did, patched and a bit ragged, with bright cloths round their necks like Lon had, and, in the colder months, colorful, beautiful scarves. Their boots were sturdy and comfortable and warm, for the long time spent walking. Jack was learning to tinker, as well as fixing whatever machinery he could get his hands on.

  Whenever they set up camp for long enough, he liked taking Lon's engine to pieces and tuning it up, fixing and oiling and rejigging it so it would work longer. The car ran a bit smoother, and belched slightly less nowadays, but it still needed a lot of babying and care—and Lon still swore a blue streak whenever it got caught in deep muddy ruts in the road. It was about the only time he did swear; he usually grew tight-lipped and grim-looking instead.

  Lon let Jack drive his car sometimes. He taught him things and expected him to be clever, and respected the work Jack did, even if he never said more than
a soft, "Good." He treated Jack like a man, and Jack adored that, but he also adored the little moments of tenderness, the way Lon would look at him proudly if he didn't think anyone could see, and just watch him, like he was very glad indeed to have Jack in his family.

  Jack and Matt had been with Jack's family now for months, and both had toughened up from the hard work and long times spent on the road. Matt was less shy around the travelers, and he blended in in some ways, not at all in others. His skin had tanned darker from being out in the sun, but his hair had paled even further, and everyone who saw him for the first time, among the darker travelers, did a double take and looked at him again quickly. He would never quite blend in, with his tall, straight figure, pretty face, and pale hair.

  If he didn't seem conscious of the effect, Jack certainly was. There were days he felt strange about it. And days he forgot their differences altogether, until someone said something that forcibly brought to mind their differences.

  "Dear Mother," said Matt, speaking softly as he wrote. "I am still fine, and learning a lot of magic. Please take care of my dog. I keep warm at nights and am eating well, so don't worry. I miss you and will see you at Christmas. Much love, Matthew." He straightened up, looking pleased, and slid the pencil away behind his ear. Then he walked into the post office to buy a stamp and mail it.

  He frequently mailed postcards home to his widowed mother, stopping at the post office of each new village at least once. He wrote to his many older brothers less frequently, but still on occasion. He was the youngest in his family, "the baby."

  Jack waited outside. Matt would be safe enough, and likely do better on his own. But Jack kept a wary watch. It wouldn't be the first town where someone decided to beat on them, just for being there, for looking different. It was why it was best not to go anywhere alone.

  Inside, he heard the postman say, "Are you all right, son? Don't you have a family to go to?"

  Jack cringed and sank lower against the wall, pressing his hands more deeply into his pockets.

  "Oh, I'm quite fine, thank you," said Matt, as polite and charming and oblivious as he always was.

  What the man meant was, "Were you stolen away by gypsies? You don't belong with them."

  Jack hated hearing it, because sometimes he thought that, too. Matt looked at him with such love, and gamely went along with everything. But he must grow tired of cramped beds and jolting rides, of mud and cooking fires, and crowded family life that sometimes got loud. And the danger that might lurk in each new village.

  Jack had gotten used to being something of a target, all his life. For looking a bit different, for being vulnerable without family to protect him, and possibly for other reasons he'd never understood—just the wrong expression, the wrong walk, something he couldn't help but worked like a red flag to everyone else, who somehow effortlessly had it "right."

  That was why he'd disliked Matt so much at first. The guy just had it together. He was the sort of person who knew the answers without studying, whom everyone liked instead of hated, who didn't get into fights and wasn't disliked on sight by anyone. Except for Jack, of course.

  He shifted uncomfortably where he leaned against the wall, moving his arms to cross his chest so he'd look tougher. Not for the first time, doubts assailed him. What were the two of them doing together? Everybody could see it except for Matt; they didn't belong together.

  Oh, they cared for one another. First love and all that. Jack felt so tender when he thought of Matt, even after months had passed since their first time in bed together. He didn't think anything was going to change that on his side. But would Matt wake up one morning and realize the truth, that they didn't belong together no matter how much warmth they had between them?

  Matt was giving up so much to live this transitory lifestyle. Jack wasn't; he loved it. It gave freedom to his restless energy and desire to live with fewer rules and restrictions. He was surrounded by family without being shoved into tight boxes by them. They moved around often enough that the scenery never got boring, and there was always some new kind of work to try, or a challenging new repair job, as well as new things to eat, do, and enjoy. But Matt was made for houses and nice clothes, for dinner parties and proper magic schooling. He'd never been a real gardener—too good, too much magical talent wasted—and he'd never be a real traveler either, would he?

  As Jack was letting himself think these sad thoughts, the sound of boots scraped on the post office's steps, and he turned to face Matt, returning to his side. Matt gave him that bright, winsome smile, the sweet one that was only and specially for him. Oh, he could light up the world with his smile. But most of all for Jack…

  "Hey, stranger." Matt hooked an arm through his, and they fell into step together easily, heading back towards camp. It lay just outside the town limits at this village, in a calm area, a little meadow with flowers growing in it and tall grass. The horses loved it. The children ran through the deeper parts, creating little paths, giggling.

  Jack liked to lie back and let the greenery conceal him in a little hollow, staring up at the sky and chewing on stems. And feeling free. Every day he was in open spaces without having to please someone else, to sleep in the cramped laundry room and worry about displeasing the wizard, he felt like he could fill his chest with more air and stand taller, like his uncle.

  "Go okay?" asked Jack, giving him a little squeeze around the shoulder with his arm draped there.

  "Absolutely." He reached across and rubbed Jack's stomach lightly. "Hungry? We could stop at that little place down the road and buy sandwiches."

  Jack's stomach rumbled tellingly. "No, that's okay. I can wait for supper if you can."

  Matt drew back a little and gave him a look he couldn't interpret. But then he so rarely could interpret Matt without help. He had to say what he meant or Jack usually couldn't tell. Even though he had the most expressive face in the world, Jack was bad at understanding it without help. Even now, after months of trying.

  "You okay?" asked Matt.

  "Uh-huh."

  "Don't you feel safe here? Or would you rather not be seen with me?" His eyes looked vulnerable now, and Jack knew what the wrong answer would be.

  He shrugged. "I just don't want trouble. Some of the people here don't care for travelers much. And they don't know why you're with us."

  Matt's eyes looked large and vulnerable, and something about him seemed to grow quite still. "Do you mind that?" he asked quietly. His upper lip looked so soft and vulnerable for a moment, Jack could hardly breathe. Matt's gaze searched him, concerned. "It bothers you?"

  Jack shrugged, feeling uncomfortably as if he'd walked into a trap. "I'm glad you're with me. Doesn't mean I want any trouble from the townsfolk who think we kidnapped you or something."

  Matt looked sad, then a little angry, turning away, his jaw muscle twitching tight. "I said maybe I should dye my hair. Anyway, since when do you care what people think? And if anybody's stupid enough to believe something like that…" He shrugged helplessly. "Well, I didn't think—"

  "I'm not ashamed of you," said Jack quietly. "But let's go home."

  And then he wondered if he should've said 'home.' Maybe Matt didn't think of the caravans as home...

  Matt tightened his arm around Jack protectively, as if to defy the eyes that might be watching them. "Don't care," he said softly, pressing a quick kiss against Jack's neck. His lips felt so nice, delicate and gentle and yet sure and strong. "I really don't. Wish you didn't, either."

  Jack laughed softly, flattered and pleased. Maybe since Matt was in a mood like this, he'd want to spend some private time together during the day, instead of waiting for tonight. He tingled at the thought. Matt, and his lovely mouth and warm, strong, beautiful body, and a caravan and an afternoon to themselves. What a good thought that was!

  "I'm working on it," he said quietly. His mouth watered, and it was no longer the thoughts of stew that were doing it…

  They moved back home easily, in step and happy together.
Matt pointed out a particularly interesting bird in one of the trees they passed, and Jack tried to mimic the whistle. He wasn't terribly good at it, but it made Matt smile that he tried. The bird even whistled back.

  The next day, he woke up alone, but it didn't worry him. Matt needed to go out and meditate sometimes in the wee hours. It helped him; he needed to center himself.

  Jack was feeling secure enough that his first thought was no longer about whether Matt had left him or not.

  Aside from his worries yesterday, he really thought he was becoming less distrustful in general. With his family and Matt around him all the time, he no longer worried so often that nobody really cared for him or would ever want him. When he slipped back into those old feelings of never belonging anywhere or being wanted, he realized just how far he'd come. That was no longer his normal mode of thought.

  On the other hand, it was a legitimate concern that Matt might not always want to travel like this. Maybe we'll have to settle down and get a house. He yawned as he folded up the bedclothes, making everything neat and tidy.

  The wagon they were using was their very own. Lon had traded for it from another group of travelers, and they were fixing it up. It was nice because now they had some privacy every night, instead of having to share wherever there was room or sleep under the stars. It felt so nice, having a little home on wheels, being part of the travelers but separate. Matt also seemed to like it, and was enjoying painting it and improving it in little ways whenever they had time. They'd traded for their very own copper pot, and a couple of utensils so far.

  Lon was lending them one of the horses to pull the little wagon when they travelled.