A Hidden Beauty

by Jamie Craig

  Micah pressed closer, searching Jefferson’s face. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh. Yes. I should go to the church tonight. We need to figure out exactly what is happening before anybody else gets hurt. At first I thought…” Jefferson glanced down the hallway, then lowered his voice. “I thought Joseph was acting out because of my frustration. But perhaps that isn’t the case.”

  He didn’t want to discount Jefferson’s beliefs, but…

  “Or perhaps it’s merely an unfortunate accident. We have no evidence to suggest there are spirits at work here.”

  “I have sufficient evidence to believe there is a spirit in that church. And I know he is responsive to me. Calm when I am calm. Agitated when I’m in a difficult state of mind.”

  Heat rose in his face. “Even if that were true, you were not agitated yesterday.”

  “I was in a state of extreme excitement yesterday.”

  Jefferson was going to be immovable on this. Taking a deep breath, Micah grasped his arm and turned him away, avoiding the possibility of being overheard. “I do not see how you can be so certain this is the spirit of the man you read about.”

  “He’s…communicated with me in the past. Do you not believe me?”

  “I believe you think someone communicated with you, yes. But I don’t understand why you might think it’s this Joseph and not some more malevolent spirit.” He didn’t want to argue about this, because it was clear Jefferson was sincere. “Perhaps if you showed me these letters you said you found,” he tried. “That might help us understand why he might be doing this.”

  Jefferson inclined his head. “We can look at the letters. There’s only a few, but Joseph did not hold anything back when he wrote. He was very—”

  “They’ll meet you out front with the trunks,” Mrs. Ruark announced as she returned to the room. “Can I help you with anything else?”

  “No, you’ve been most kind already,” Micah said, stepping forward.

  He paid her the silver he’d promised for storing his things and nodded at her warnings as he and Jefferson stepped outside again. There was no time to talk before her sons arrived, two burly young men as non-communicative as Mrs. Ruark was loquacious. Jefferson led the way back to his home, and Micah tipped the young men for their efforts and sent them along their way before he had the opportunity to speak freely again.

  “Let’s leave the cleaning and unpacking for later,” he said. “I’d like to see the letters.”

  Jefferson looked at the growing mess in his home. “And I used to be such a neat and orderly person too. Look what you’ve done to me.”

  He pretended to reach for the gloves he’d just placed on the stand. “Well, if my presence is too disruptive…”

  Jefferson moved quickly and caught Micah’s wrist. With a sharp tug, he pulled Micah against him. “Your presence is extremely disruptive. In fact, I can’t even remember what I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

  The hard line of Jefferson’s body sparked an immediate response in Micah’s, a tightening that started at his scalp and rippled all the way down to his toes. It was as if his flesh was poised on the brink of recognition, and it took physical contact to send it toppling over the precipice, on a narrow scarlet path that made it impossible to be aware of anything but Jefferson.

  Micah tilted his head back, his lips soft in unspoken invitation. “I foresee many long hours spent inside these walls,” he murmured. “I fear my need to have you touching me might overpower my better sense beyond them.”

  “I know the feeling.” He brushed his cheek against Micah’s. “My need to touch you often overwhelms all my senses.” His other hand went to the back of Micah’s neck, and he touched his mouth to Micah’s waiting lips. The kiss was light for just a moment before Jefferson’s tongue pushed against his bottom lip, demanding entry.

  He was getting better at this kissing, Micah thought, especially when Jefferson groaned at the first tangle of their tongues and pushed him hard against the wall. Nerves had tempered much of his early attempts, but after the first time Jefferson had stroked him to completion, Micah had abandoned those in favor of losing himself to the sensations. Jefferson didn’t seem to mind when he occasionally moved his head in the wrong direction and their noses bumped, or their teeth clicked, or he inadvertently bit at Jefferson’s lip. In fact, that last provoked even stronger responses, and Micah now sought to recreate them whenever he had the opportunity.

  Jefferson shifted, grinding his erection against Micah’s. The kiss slowed to the point that Micah thought Jefferson was going to break away, but he only stole a quick breath before sliding his tongue along Micah’s again. Micah forgot what they were supposed to be doing. He forgot everything except the pressure and texture and taste of Jefferson’s mouth. He moaned in protest when Jefferson slid his lips from Micah’s mouth to his neck.

  “I’ll let you read the letters now. But I’m not going to stop touching you.”

  “And you expect me to still be able to read?” Boldly, Micah slid his hand around Jefferson’s to cup a buttock, pulling him harder against his body. “You do this to torment me, I’m certain of it.”

  “Torment you?” Jefferson’s mouth seemed to be everywhere, and his hand crept up Micah’s chest, fingers toying with the buttons. “What about the ways you torment me?”

  He groaned when Jefferson sucked at the hollow of his throat, his head slamming back against the wall as he stretched to allow him more room. “I do nothing,” he panted. “I would be more than willing to be your slave, should you ask.”

  Jefferson worked his top button free, his mouth sliding down to taste the newly exposed skin. “It’s torment when you say things like that. But don’t mistake me. I enjoy this torment.”

  “Do you not believe I would do it?” Mustering strength he didn’t realize he had, Micah pushed Jefferson away, holding him at arm’s length as he struggled to catch his breath. “Say the word, and I shall sink to my knees.”

  “Do it.” Micah immediately bent his knees, but Jefferson caught his shoulder, stopping him. A small, inquisitive smile played on his lips. “Where did you learn that?”

  The flush that crept over his skin had nothing to do with the desire racing through his veins. “From the young woman I hired when I returned to Boston. Not that she taught me how, but rather, that she used such methods to arouse me.” His color deepened. “Though it was only partially successful. I didn’t get aroused until I imagined it was you, and then…that’s when I fled.”

  Jefferson’s eyes widened as he listened to Micah’s story, but the smile never quite left his face. “I think we should definitely take the time to explore that method further.” He kissed Micah’s fevered skin, his lips cool. “After we look over the letters. If you sit down, I’ll go get them.”

  Jefferson left him to go to the bedroom, and Micah ran his hands through his hair, mussing his curls up even further as he leaned against the wall. He did not know how he was going to be able to concentrate with images of Jefferson on his knees dancing through his head, or him on his knees, holding Jefferson’s prick as he leaned in to…

  Micah gritted his teeth. He ached all over, but he had the distinct feeling Jefferson would adhere to studying the letters before yielding to the desire for more intimate contact. Steeling himself, he pushed away from the wall, went into the sitting room, and settled onto the chaise, waiting for Jefferson’s return.

  When Jefferson entered the room, he was carrying a large bible. He sat beside Micah and carefully opened it, revealing several folded pieces of paper. He plucked up the top one and delicately unfolded it. The ink had faded a bit, and the script was tight and slanted, without any breaks on the page.

  “All of these were written after Joseph moved in here. It seems he slept in this room. In a few places, he mentions that Simon is already asleep. I imagine he stayed up writing by the light of the fire, carefully tucking the pages into the bible when he was finished.”

  “They lived together?”<
br />
  “Yes. The church was struck by lightning and burned shortly after Joseph arrived in town. He agreed to stay here and help rebuild it, but he didn’t have a place to stay. Grandfather agreed to board him.”

  Micah shook his head as he leaned closer in order to read over Jefferson’s arm. “That church has never had good luck, it would seem.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  Micah squinted at the cramped words, but couldn’t seem to make sense of them. “Can you…?”

  Jefferson nodded. “Of course. It actually took me several nights to decipher his script. I often wondered how he managed to read his sermons on Sundays.” Jefferson brought the paper close to his face and began to read. “‘Dear S, I have moved into Simon Dering’s home, and it is extremely comfortable. The cottage is small, but it feels like a palace after my months on the road. I considered moving on to Philadelphia, as was my original plan, but I believe the people in Wroxham are in need of my services. Mr. Dering has vowed to rebuild the church by spring, and I was moved by his dedication and passion. You may be surprised that I would be so easily swayed from my journey, but I believe God has led me here and I must have faith that He has a purpose for me.’”

  Jefferson moved on to the next letter without glancing up. “‘Dear S, Mr. Dering seems like an exceptionally lonely man. I protested that I could not dream of sleeping in his sitting room, of all places, and he insisted he has no use of it. I do not believe he was lying. The only person he ever speaks to is a young Miss Smith. He insists he intends to ask for her hand, but he has yet to find the courage.’” Jefferson paused. “He just goes on to talk about the plans for the church here. I’ll skip to the next letter, if you don’t mind.”

  Micah nodded.

  “‘Dear S, I have been trapped in Mr. Dering’s home for the past three days. The snow is a wall surrounding us, and I will be quite surprised if we learn nobody has been lost to this devilish weather. Mr. Dering is quite concerned about Miss Smith, but I have tried to assure him that Miss Smith’s family is quite well. We have passed the time discussing the church, the weather and his affections for Miss Smith. I find I can spend hours in conversation with him. He is a most engaging and interesting fellow.’” Jefferson took a deep breath. “They go on like this for the next month or so. The tone does not really change until March.”

  “What does it change to?”

  “‘Dear S. Excuse the handwriting. I have seen three sunrises without sleep. I am in most severe pain, and I have prayed to God to be cured of this affliction. No, I have not just prayed. I have cried. I have begged. I have beseeched Him until my throat hurts and I am empty of tears. But He has not heard me. And I fear I know why. He will allow me to continue with this agony until my death because I have sinned in His eyes. I have lusted after another in my heart. I am a wicked man, unable to overcome my own sinful nature, and now I must perish for it.’”

  Though he knew parts of this story, Micah still ached for the man writing the letters. Hadn’t he been thinking those very thoughts after that fateful night with Jefferson in the church? And this was a man of God. The battle must be infinitely harder for him, though their lustful thoughts were of a different nature.

  “I found letters of his once, tucked into the Bible my grandfather kept. They…Joseph and my grandfather…were very close.”

  “Like us.”

  “Yes. Exactly like us.”

  Micah looked up to see Jefferson regarding him. “He was in love with your grandfather.” He said it as a statement of fact. Though Jefferson nodded in affirmation, Micah did not require it to know he was correct. “You said he died in Simon Dering’s arms. Does that mean they were intimate?”

  Jefferson shook his head. “No, I do not believe they were. Grandfather would speak of him occasionally with great respect, but I have never seen anything to indicate he considered Joseph as more than a friend. He died in the church, after they finished framing it. It seems he had some sort of tumor in his stomach, and he collapsed one afternoon while they were working.”

  “Perhaps he felt he found a kindred spirit in you,” Micah continued. “As well as formed an attachment because you’re kin to the man he loved. But that doesn’t explain why he would act out thusly. Not now, at least.”

  “I agree. I assumed he was acting out earlier because I was influencing him with my own frustrations. But that is clearly not the case. Either I was mistaken and the spirit has nothing to do with me, or Joseph is tied closer to my emotions than I ever believed.”

  “You said…” Micah still wasn’t convinced that the spirit of the church was Joseph, not if it had been so benevolent all along. But he had to believe in Jefferson. “Are you certain you must go back to see him tonight? What if his intentions towards you aren’t as benign as you think?”

  “Yes. I’m the only person he ever communicates with. Which means, I might be the only person who can stop him before he hurts anybody else.”

  Carefully, Micah took the letters from Jefferson’s grip and set them aside so he could clasp their hands together. “And what if he hurts you? I can’t lose you. I’ve only just found you.”

  “I know. He’s not going to hurt me.”

  The conviction in his voice was almost enough for Micah. He stroked the sides of Jefferson’s hands, hoping to show him just how badly he feared the worst. “Will you allow me to go with you, at least?”

  “I won’t stop you if you wish to join me. But do you think it is entirely wise? Especially if what is going on with Joseph is somehow related to us?”

  “I don’t see how it can be. If he was truly responding to your emotions, he would be calm now. And he never took notice of my presence before when we sat in the church and talked.” He nodded, his mind made up. “I’m going. Perhaps it will take two of us to understand what exactly his intentions are.”

  “Wait, Micah. It is not true that he never responded to your presence before. He responded to you nearly every night we were together.”

  Micah frowned. “How? I would have been aware of such an occurrence, wouldn’t I?”

  “You never noticed the candles? Every time you touched me, they would spontaneously ignite and then extinguish themselves.”

  He wracked his memory, but nothing came. Any attempt to bring forth the events of those nights invariably presented only one image to his mind’s eye.

  “I only ever saw you,” Micah confessed. “But perhaps there were other incidentals. The way the door would open, perhaps. I always credited it to a faulty latch, but that’s erroneous, isn’t it?”

  “He opened the door for you because I wanted to see you. The latch on the door works perfectly.”

  “And the night of our kiss? It opened then, after I stopped you.”

  “When I wanted you to leave,” Jefferson admitted softly.

  Though there was a slight sting to his acknowledgment, Micah could not begrudge him the truth. That had been a very difficult night for both of them. All that truly mattered was how it had eventually brought them back together.

  “I still do not see why he should respond so vehemently when we weren’t even present yesterday,” Micah said. “You’re happy now, so it should not lead to such violence.”

  “I would be interested to learn precisely when all the windows shattered. The time could have coincided with the moment I thought I would explode.”

  Micah blushed at the memory, the slight tease in Jefferson’s tone doing much to alleviate his rising concern. “Then it’s most imperative we find out. I would be loath to think we will have to curb our desires for fear of the altar catching aflame.”

  “It is imperative. We would go there now, but I want to wait until everybody has retired for the evening. In case something happens.” Jefferson smiled. “Can you think of anything you want to do in the meantime?”

  Pulling Jefferson to his feet, Micah backed towards the door, leading him out of the room. “We have to make space for my belongings,” he said, affecting innocence. “And it
would be wise to start in the bedroom, don’t you think?”

  “I think we should definitely start something in the bedroom. But I suppose we could unpack for now,” Jefferson said easily.

  He let Jefferson catch the twinkle in his eye before turning his back. “You’ll thank me later when I’m not complaining about having to live out of my trunk.” Or, at the very least, thank him for other, more entertaining tasks he had in mind for their time in the bedroom. It would distract them from thoughts of Joseph until the time came to leave for the church. And if Jefferson opted not to go because he was simply too exhausted from his day’s endeavors, that was good too.

  Chapter 16

  Nobody had bothered to sweep up the broken glass in the church, but Jefferson didn’t blame them. Everything was utterly still, unearthly quiet, and goose bumps covered his arms and neck. He couldn’t quell the vague sense of foreboding, and he hoped Micah didn’t feel it as well. The last thing Micah needed was more reason to hate the idea of visiting the church.

  Jefferson never called for Joseph. He never tried to attract the spirit’s attention. Sometimes the church felt completely empty, and on those nights, Jefferson wondered if he had simply imagined Joseph’s presence. He had always had an overactive imagination, and his grandfather hadn’t been shy about telling him ghost stories, and stories about witches and demons. But other nights, he could feel Joseph as though the deceased man was next to him, touching him even.

  Despite his policy of never seeking out the spirit, he said his name now. “Joseph?”

  Silence.

  “What if we sat in our pew?” Micah whispered from behind him, alerting Jefferson to how close he stood. He came around to block the view of the glass and nodded towards the seats they always held when they had come for their midnight meetings. “You said it had meaning, didn’t you?”

  Jefferson nodded, following Micah to their spot. Sitting beside Micah like that felt not only natural, but perfectly familiar and right.