There was no hope that Kale would ever be comfortable around him. All Jason was trying to do was get Kale back to his old self. And that alone might be an impossible task, but Jason was going to try. If he failed, he would let Kale stay for the rest of his life, and Jason would keep out of his way. But if he succeeded, then he wouldn’t force Kale to tolerate belonging to him any longer than he had to.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The sun was only just beginning to peak around the buildings, and the air was still cool when Kale stepped out into the garden. His early hours were spent here, weeding and watering. It was his only responsibility, and he performed it with care.
He set his book down on the patio table and patrolled the rows of plants. Except, they weren’t plants yet. Kale was still waiting for the first seed to sprout. If he was honest, this gardening stuff was kind of boring, and he was losing faith that anything would come of it.
Then he saw it. Straight ahead was a patch of green. Sure enough, after he dusted off some dirt, he could see rows of green sprouts. Before he knew it, a whoop of excitement had left his mouth. An inexplicable joy filled him at seeing these little plants, this little bit of life that had sprung from nothing.
Pride swelled in his heart. He had created something out of seed and earth and water. Kale’s mind went back to the time when he had told Jason that if he were free, he would like to cultivate his own bit of land. Had Jason been thinking of that when he gave the garden to Kale? The thought irritated him, and he pushed it aside. He didn’t want to get sentimental where Jason was concerned. He was grateful, and he could just leave it at that.
Kale lay down on his stomach to closely examine one of the sprouts. It was a simple green stem with two branching leaves. The contrast of the bright green—so vibrant and full of life—against the dull brown of the earth was remarkable. One day, this sprout would grow into a carrot, and all around it would be a lush garden. In his mind’s eye, he saw the picture clearly.
Kale found his inspiration.
He scrambled to his feet and ran inside to his room. He didn’t even wipe off his hands before grabbing his sketchpad and a charcoal pencil from the table. Back outside, he took up position on his stomach again and began to draw. He tried not to think too hard, worried that he might scare the image away. He sketched, trance-like, until the inspiration ran its course.
When he was done, Kale focused his eyes on the paper. There was a single sprout in the foreground. Behind it was a rendering of the garden, ripe and in full bloom. Kale sat up and stared at the picture. He had done this. He had drawn this. Not only had he depicted what was before him, but he had been able to conjure up in his own mind a beautiful imagining of what the garden could be. It was the first beautiful thing he had produced in more than three years.
Taking a deep breath, he looked up and closed his eyes, letting silent tears fall and dry in the rising sun. This was a good day.
When he knew no more tears would fall, he dug the lock of hair from his pocket and looked at it. The Kale who had clipped this hair was a different man. Kale had always thought Jason was the naïve, idealistic one. Looking back, Kale could see that he was more idealistic than he would have admitted.
Could he ever regain his sense of life? Could he get that spark back? As he looked down at the picture he had drawn, Kale began to think he could. A day ago, he would have never believed he was capable of producing any type of art again. The drawing was a token of hope. If he could do that, then maybe he could salvage some part of himself.
The night he had clipped that hair, he had finally been able to admit the truth to himself: he loved Jason, and Jason loved him. After the last few years, Kale didn’t know if he could even comprehend the love he had felt back then. So much had happened. Now that old life, that old love, was like a mythical fairytale. He held to it for the strength it gave him, but he didn’t really believe in it. The person he had been was a stranger. He would never be able to be him again, but maybe he could simply be happy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The contract in front of Jason was a mind-numbing mess. Plans for the northern mill expansion moved forward, and that meant reams of papers to look through, amend, sign, approve, decline, and pass along. It was early, too early to be messing with this sort of thing. That was the justification Jason gave himself for gazing out the window before he started on the day.
Kale sprawled on his stomach in the garden. It was a familiar position. If Jason closed his eyes, he could picture Kale just like that in a myriad of settings: on Jason’s bed, in the park, on the sofa, on the floor once, drawing from the perspective of a cricket that had found its way inside.
That last memory must have bled over into reality. Jason could swear he saw Kale drawing. It was wishful thinking. Jason hadn’t seen Kale draw since he brought him home, and from what he gathered from Martin, no one else had either. It was all part of the healing process. Eventually, Kale’s gift would come back. Jason had to believe it would.
Wait. There was movement below. Kale shifted, and Jason gasped. There was, indeed, a sketchpad in Kale’s hands. Not only that, but it was full. From this distance, Jason couldn’t make out what it was, but there was no mistaking that there was a picture. Jason yearned to get a closer look. This was the first drawing Kale had done since his return, and Jason needed to see it, if only to convince himself that Kale was healing.
Rushing down the stairs, Jason couldn’t help the excitement building in his stomach. For three years he had studied every picture Kale had left him. He knew them all in excruciating detail. Now he was going to see something new. What would it be? He knew he would love it by virtue of it being Kale’s, but would he like what it revealed? Drawing had always been his window into Kale’s soul, and Jason’s stomach fluttered at the thought of what he might see.
Before opening the door to the garden, Jason stopped to compose himself. A few deep breaths helped him gather his wits. If he wasn’t careful, he would scare Kale off. The only way he would get a peek at that drawing was to be covert. Slowly, Jason turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. Kale was still there—thank the gods—only he wasn’t drawing anymore. Jason held his breath as he closed the door behind him, willing it to not make a sound.
Kale sat, his face lifted to the sky. Tiptoeing forward, Jason craned his neck to view the picture in Kale’s lap. From what Jason could see, it was breathtaking. After all this time, it was surreal to be near a new creation of Kale’s. He couldn’t make out the details yet, but it appeared to be a drawing of the garden in bloom. It was a happy drawing. Jason found none of the anger or sadness he’d feared in Kale’s art.
Just a little closer and Jason could get a perfect view. Movement from Kale stilled Jason in mid-stride. Jason watched with bated breath as Kale reached into his right hand pocket and pulled out…what was that? Kale’s hand moved, and Jason got a clear view. It was a lock of hair. Brown hair. A familiar chill went down Jason’s back, and his eyes darted to Kale’s face. It looked dry now, but he could make out tear tracks in the dirt speckling his cheeks.
A hand flew to Jason’s head. Of course not, that lock of hair was clearly old. But yet, Jason couldn’t deny it. That was a lock of his hair. He didn’t know how he knew, only that he did.
Why would Kale have that? He must have clipped it before Jason sold him. But why would he? Why take a token of your rapist with you into your future? Why hold onto it all these years? It didn’t make any sense.
Kale twirled the hair in his right hand and a piece of the puzzle shifted into place. The tic, that relentless fidgeting any time Jason was near or mentioned. It was always the right hand over Kale’s right pant leg. Always the same. Furiously rubbing at something. Not something, this lock of hair. Jason’s hair. What did it mean?
And why did Kale look at it the way he did? In Kale’s face, Jason saw happiness, hope, longing, and—did Jason dare believe it?—love. In light of the drawing Kale had just created, Jason could understand those feelings f
or his art, but not toward that lock of hair that Jason knew to the core of his being was his.
This didn’t make sense. Jason’s mind ran in circles, tangling itself more and more as it tried to figure out the riddle. Jason closed his eyes and ordered his mind to cease its frantic searching. There was a simple and logical explanation for all of this.
Kale loves you.
No. There was a sensible, pragmatic explanation.
Kale loves you.
That was impossible. Kale didn’t love Jason. Kale hated him. It was obvious in every line of his body. If Kale loved him, why would he have said what he did all those years ago? Why would he have all but begged to be sold?
Because he loves you.
Jason was transported back in time. To the bed he and Kale had shared. The look on Kale’s face as they made love. The crushing disappointment of Renee’s refusal to marry him. The night they had shared, mending wounds and comforting one another. Those were acts of love. But they could not overcome what happened next.
Kale had so deftly pointed out that he never loved Jason, had never said the words. He had called him a rapist.
No.
A frantic search through Jason’s memory proved that Kale had never spoken that word. Jason had been the one to use the label. Kale had merely not disagreed with him. But why had he pushed until Jason came to that conclusion?
It was a lie.
Of course it was a lie. Jason had even called Kale on it. Only, the next day when Kale had confirmed all the worst things Jason secretly thought of himself, he had forgotten everything else. In the harsh light of the reality of what Jason was, everything else washed out.
But it was a lie.
No. Jason had been cruel to Kale. He had humiliated him. Beat him. If it was a lie, then why would Kale let himself be sold? A single word from Kale would have stopped the sale. Jason would have kept Kale and forgotten about Renee. It only made sense if Kale had been telling the truth. The last three years of his life only made sense if Kale had been honest. Why would he lie? Why would he put himself through the agony of these last years?
Because he loves you.
It was a lie.
The last three years of Jason’s life were built on a lie. It was a blow to the gut, and Jason sucked in a ragged breath.
Kale turned at the sound and jumped to his feet as he saw Jason.
“Is that my hair?” Jason pointed a shaky hand toward Kale. He didn’t know why he was asking. He already knew the answer. There was no evidence other than his gut feeling, but he knew. He knew it all now.
Kale’s only answer was to stuff the lock of hair back in his pocket. Even with new clothes, Jason could make out the faint signs of wear on Kale’s pants.
“Why did you keep it?” Jason was unsteady on his feet under the weight of his new worldview. He took a step toward Kale. “You have feelings for me?” And another. Kale stayed resolutely still, neither confirming nor denying what Jason was saying. It didn’t matter. All the confirmation Jason needed was in Kale’s face. “Why do you have a lock of my hair, Kale?” Jason’s voice grew progressively louder and came out as a demand for information that even Kale couldn’t ignore.
“How do you know it’s your hair?”
“How did you know the only way to get me to sell you would be to convince me that I was a rapist?”
Kale blanched and took a step back. Hoorah for Jason. After all these years, he’d finally unnerved Kale.
“This isn’t what you think.”
“What is it then, Kale?”
Kale visibly gathered himself and leaned forward. “Why can’t it just be about me holding on to something, like you and those damn drawings? Not everything is about you.”
“I hold on to the drawings, Kale, because I still love you.”
Kale clamped his mouth shut and looked away.
“You lied to me all those years ago. You made me think I had been raping you.”
Kale’s head whirled back around. “I never said that. You put that on yourself.”
Jason laughed bitterly. “Yes, I know. A search through my recollections shows that you didn’t use those exact words, just like you didn’t say ‘I love you.’ It was all plausible deniability.”
“What?”
“Don’t act stupid. You may not know the term, but you know what I’m talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter. That was then.”
“It matters to me. The truth matters a great deal, Kale.”
“Fine. Yes. I did it. I lied to you to protect you and ensure your happiness. Much good it did. You still managed to screw it all up.”
Jason had made a mess of everything. He knew that. Even before today, he was aware of what a failure he had been. “But the way you were looking at my hair. There was love in your eyes, Kale.”
“So?”
“So, you love me.”
“No. Loved. Past tense.” Kale did the thing with his lips that Jason loved, pursing them as he thought about what to say. “I was crazy in love with you back then, so crazy that I thought it would be better if I was sold so you could live out your dream with Renee. That was a long time ago. I no longer love you. Not the reality. Not the drunk estranged from his wife, holding on to ghosts of the past. Not the man who abandoned me and turned me into this pitiful shell of a person. I hold on to the hair because that’s the fantasy, the dream. I hold to it to help me get through each day. It has nothing to do with you.”
It was so strange to hear those words from Kale. Hearing that Kale had loved him was a bright ray of light in Jason’s life, and he wanted nothing more than to bathe in it forever. There was a hope in Kale’s words, and Jason clung to it. “If you loved me before, you can love me again.”
Kale merely grunted. His expression gave no encouragement.
“You told me once that a man can change.”
“I was stupid.”
“No, you weren’t, Kale. You were never stupid. I can change. I can be the man you loved again.”
“We can’t go back in time. You’ve changed too much. And even if you hadn’t, I have.”
“All right, then maybe I can become the kind of man you can love now.”
“It’s time you start living for yourself.”
“I can do this, Kale. I promise. I can. I can be a better man.”
Kale met Jason’s eyes. The swirl of emotion was still in his face, but Jason was shocked by an addition. Now there was fear in his expression as well. “I know you can.” Kale’s voice wavered, and he looked down, his eyes despairing.
Jason couldn’t stay and decipher Kale’s demeanor. He couldn’t help Kale at all. Not like this. He needed to help himself before he could be of any use to Kale. Jason strode indoors to his office, bellowing for Martin as he went.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“What’s wrong?” Martin burst, breathless, through Jason’s office door only seconds after Jason arrived.
“Nothing’s wrong, Martin. Here, you want a drink?” Jason went to the decanter and began to pour, but then thought better of it. His body called out for a drink, but giving in would not bring him closer to his objective. “Never mind.” Jason tipped the contents of the glass back into the decanter.
“If nothing’s wrong, then why were you yelling for me when you could have rung just as easily?” Martin never was one for spontaneity.
“I couldn’t wait. Nothing’s wrong, but we have a lot of work to do.” Jason couldn’t help grinning like a fool. It had only been a glimmer of hope, but in the wake of the last three years, a glimmer seemed like a damned flood. Kale had loved him. If he had once, he could again. Jason only had to become the kind of man who was worthy of such love.
Even in the excitement of his newfound knowledge, Jason had to check himself. Love might be too lofty a goal at the moment. First, he needed Kale’s respect. He knew he could earn at least that much. From there, he would see where their feelings took them.
“First things first. As of this momen
t, I’m giving up alcohol. I want it gone. All of it. I don’t want so much as a drop left in this house for cooking.” Jason paced the room as he talked, his hands gesturing as quickly as his mouth. Too many thoughts and emotions coursed through him for him to have any hope of staying still.
Jason looked at Martin to see if he was taking all this in and was unsurprised to see him sitting quite calmly at the desk, his planner open on his lap. “Are you getting all of this?”
“You’re giving up alcohol?” The hint of disbelief in Martin’s voice was not welcome.
“Yes. What? You don’t think I can? You don’t think I’m serious?” Jason stood over him, meeting Martin’s gaze with a firm stare.
The beginnings of a smile tugged at Martin’s lips. “Yes, I think you can do it. I know you can. I guess I’m just wondering what brought all this about.”
It was a fair question. He knew Martin disapproved of his drinking, but Jason had never done anything to curtail it. The enormity of the journey he was embarking on caught up with him, and he collapsed into his chair, winded. It all came down to one simple truth. “He loved me.”
“Wha—”
“Kale. He loved me. Before. I never knew.”
“Oh.” The tenderness in Martin’s voice surprised Jason. Martin seemed happy for him. This man who Jason had always viewed as an inconvenience at best and an adversary at worst.
“I know you’ve been wanting me to quit, but I never realized I could until today. Right now, I feel I could do anything. I have so much work to do.”
“I’ll make sure all the alcohol is out of the house within the hour.”
Nerves crept back into Jason. Could he really do this? Maybe just one more drink.
He felt a warm hand on top of his. “You won’t have to do this alone.”
[Measure of Devotion 02.0] Measure of Strength Page 11
