Chapter 4
Abraham
I fear I did not weigh the full effect of kissing Jasper Sinclair. He’s far more potent than I imagined. A luxury so indulgent I know not how I will ever quit his taste.
If this is ruin, let me be a man in shambles.
“Abe.” The whisper of Jasper’s lips against mine is full of an awe I understand in my marrow. “Is it always like this?”
“No,” I tell him truthfully, passing my fingers through his silky hair, the heat of him beneath me assuring me this isn’t a dream I’ve conjured only in my head.
His hands shake against my shirt, one still resting over my heart, the other at my side. I feather my lips over his. His lips, the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and then back again.
His voice is breathless. “Will it pass?”
“No,” I say again, sure of it. “Does that scare you?”
The light of the stars looks back at me from within his eyes. “Yes. This is impossible. How will we…”
I quiet his concern with a press of my lips to his. “Carefully.” Another press. “Cautiously. ”
“If we’re caught…”
“We won’t be.”
He lets out a soft laugh, his hand sliding against my chest in a way that makes me long to feel the touch of his fingertips on my skin. His tone turns playful, needing, I suspect, to make light of the danger we’re in. “If we are, will you fight for me, my warrior?”
“With my every breath,” I promise, the certainty of it startling me.
Jasper sobers, his drifting fingers coming to a stop. “My family leaves soon. Can I see you again before I go?”
“Every day if you please,” I answer, capturing his hand to bring his fingertips to my lips. I kiss each slowly. Revel in each intake of breath. Five in total. “How long will you be away?”
“A month, perhaps?”
Such a long time when I’ve only just found him.
I offer a smile, hoping Jasper can see it. “A month to miss you, then.”
“Abraham…”
“Will you think of me while you’re away?”
His response nearly sets my heart on fire. “How could I not? Forgetting you must mean I am dead, for I cannot see how it would be possible otherwise.”
I find the bow of Jasper’s lips in the dark, memorizing the shape of him with my thumb as my voice rattles from my lungs. “If you expect me to leave you tonight, you can’t speak so.”
“It’s the truth.” His words come winded, as if the kiss of my thumb is as exhilarating to him as my mouth. He doesn’t sound pleased to add, “But I must go.”
“I know,” I exhale, letting my hand drop away .
Leaning back, I offer my palm to Jasper, helping him to sit. He straightens his waistcoat before sifting his fingers through his hair. There’s a soft plop in the creek, like a frog in motion.
When Jasper stands, the moonlight casts a silver glow atop his head. “If this is a dream, I hope I can return.”
Without another word, Jasper sets off toward the hill that will take him out of sight. I watch him until he’s gone, his silhouette disappearing amongst the dark. Picking up the sack he left for me, I head toward home.
My mother is awake when I arrive, a candle at her bedside as she darns a sock. I close the door behind me, setting the sack on the table.
“What do you have?” my mother asks.
I let out a soft breath. “Food,” I tell her, pulling the items free. My stomach nearly drops to my feet when I see the jar half-full of what must be butter. Oh, Jasper .
“Abraham,” my mother says, fear in her voice. “Did you steal it?”
“No, Mama,” I answer quickly, setting down a loaf of bread and finding a salted meat of some kind. Pork, I believe. “It was a gift. From a friend.”
She looks unconvinced, but she doesn’t press for more information. Perhaps she doesn’t believe me and wishes not to know.
I set to work cutting one end of the bread into pieces.
Atop two, I spread a fine layer of butter.
It clumps, cool as it is, but I don’t concern myself with warming it.
My mother won’t mind, and neither will I.
Atop that, I add small hunks of the dried meat.
On the other two pieces of bread, I lather the fruit spread. Orange, perhaps? Apricot?
“Here,” I tell my mother, passing her a plate as I take a seat at the edge of her mat. “An extra meal will do us good. ”
She doesn’t object. Not after two days of eating only cornbread and our last ration of beef. We’re quiet as we chew, but I have no doubt my mother is savoring the experience as I am.
“Your friend,” she says slowly once done. “Did he steal this?”
I laugh softly, my spirits high with my stomach so pleasantly sated. “No, he did not.”
“He is wealthy, then.”
“Yes. Here. Let me take your plate.”
She hands it to me, empty of even crumbs, and I stand, wiping each with a cloth before storing the rest of the food. I set the sack near the door to return to Jasper.
“Do you need to use the pot?” I ask.
My mother nods, and I go to her side, helping maneuver her so she can relieve herself before bed. After emptying the pot and taking care of my own needs, I return indoors. The candle continues to flicker, although I know my mother will extinguish the flame soon enough.
“Abraham,” she says gently.
I pause, standing in front of my own bed mat, my shirt set aside for tomorrow.
My mother seems to weigh her words, her exhaustion evident on her face, even in the limited light.
I can’t help my worry that, despite my best efforts, this life is pressing down on her more forcefully than I can counteract.
“I feel that I am nothing but a burden to you,” she finally says.
“Mama.”
“Please,” she goes on, her hair spread darkly across her pillow as she looks my way. “This isn’t what I wanted for you. I can scarcely help. Scarcely contribute—”
“Hush,” I say more forcefully, returning to her side and kneeling beside her. “You do the best you can. And I wouldn’t ever ask more of you. Who raised me, hm? ”
She lets out a soft sigh.
“You’ve worked hard your whole life,” I remind her. “Now it’s my turn. Let me carry the weight. I am strong enough to do so thanks to you.”
She nods, tears in her eyes. After making sure her legs are in a comfortable position, I blow out the candle and return to bed.
The morning brings with it sunshine, a soft breeze, and a contented stomach as I rake horse stalls. Victor does his own tasks within the stables, checking on me rarely. I take pride in his trust, and, like always, I work hard to ensure I keep it.
Jasper is on my mind near constantly. His voice. His lips. The prospect of seeing him again. My stomach flips at the mere thought, a smile on my face as I lug a wheelbarrow full of manure out back.
As I’m feeding the horses their morning grain, I sense him.
He’s standing outside the doorway to the stables, his waistcoat and breeches a light tan, his coat dark green.
He lingers only for a moment, but the sight of him has me wishing for Victor’s absence once more so that we might steal the day away in one another’s company.
As is, we’re only afforded a quick, shared smile.
It’s enough. Even when my night passes without a single sighting of Jasper .
The following day is much the same. A morning meal of bread, meat, and butter. Clearing the stables and preparing the horses for labor. A brief glimpse of Jasper as he slows on his way to the printer.
Bright, golden hair. Blue, blue eyes. His soft smile and blushing cheeks.
Have any other seen those cheeks light so?
It’s a proprietorial notion, desiring that hue to belong to me and me alone. But Jasper is meant to be mine. I know it the same way I know the sun will rise every day and the stars will return at night. He was made for me. Or me for him. I’m meant to cherish him. I’m sure of it.
He leaves in only two days. It’s a temporary absence, I know. But I ache with it all the same.
I return to the creek once it’s dark, waiting, hoping. My heart lifts when a shadow moves over the top of the hill to the east.
Jasper wastes no time in rushing toward me.
His teeth gleam in the starlight as he grins, a bundle in his hands that he quickly drops to the earth.
He all but leaps forward, his mouth pressing to mine without a word spoken between us.
We go stumbling, my arms around him helping to steady us.
Jasper utters a quick apology against my lips, but the smile in his kiss never wavers.
Shifting my hands to his hair, I grasp the short strands, my soul settling at his proximity even as my body burns. Jasper allows me to tilt his head, a gasp leaving his lips as I drop my mouth to the pale skin of his throat. His grip on me tightens, body swaying, his voice but a whisper.
“Abraham.”
“Yes?”
“You make me dizzy. ”
With a soft groan, I map a path up Jasper’s throat to his lips. I kiss him once, twice, before stepping back. “Then let us sit.”
Jasper settles in front of me on the grass, his knees close enough to brush mine. He clears his throat before reaching for the bundle he dropped and handing it over. “For you.”
By the shape of it, I can tell it’s more food. “Thank you,” I tell him earnestly, feeling spoiled by Jasper’s care. I set the bundle at my side and grab the empty sack I brought with me. “Yours.”
He laughs quietly, accepting it, placing the sack beside himself. His hand finds my knee, but he retracts it quickly, as if startled by his own boldness or perhaps the feel of my skin. I reach for him slowly, giving him time to pull away. He never does.
Taking hold of his hand, I draw it between us, keeping it tangled with my own as a small animal rustles in the brush somewhere off to our right.
“I no longer wish to go.” Jasper’s voice is soft, but it holds an edge of panic.
“To the countryside?”
He nods. “I always enjoy visiting my aunt. But this time… This time, I am leaving you behind. And I hate it.”
I bring his hand up, kissing his knuckles. “Only for a while. I’ll be here when you return.”
“Abraham…” Whatever it is he has to say, he seems to hesitate over it. “Are you able to read?”
Ah.
“No,” I admit. “I was never taught.”
He doesn’t seem surprised by this. “I could teach you. If you’d like.”
“I would like that very much,” I say, my throat tight. “Thank you. ”
He nods, his fingers brushing against my own. Playing, almost. “If I write to you…while I’m away… Would you let me read you my letters?”
“You don’t need to go through the hassle,” I tell him, not wanting him to worry over me when he should be enjoying his trip.
His fingers tighten on mine. “You don’t understand. I must. Because when I see you again, I will surely forget everything I thought of you in my absence, and I don’t want to let a single recollection go missing. I want to write them all down, and I want to share them with you.”
My breath aches in my lungs.
I have no doubt Jasper Sinclair will bring about my destruction.
“I would be honored, Jasper. To hear your letters.”
He lets out a short sigh. “Yes. Good. I feel as if I must be going mad, Abraham. To want you so.”
I twist his hand in mine, letting the sting in my throat settle before speaking. “Then we will be mad together.”
Jasper stays with me at the creek for what must be an hour or more. We talk as the crickets chirp and the night owls sing their songs. The weight of duty pulls at us both, but we resist. For at least a little while.
When we can no longer delay the inevitable, Jasper leans close, his eyes a flicker of brightness in an otherwise dark night. “If I don’t have another chance to say it, fare thee well, Abraham Morris. Until I can return to you.”
“Be it swiftly, I hope.”
Jasper kisses me, his hand on my cheek shaking. I do my best to soothe his worry, distracting him with soft nips and teasing caresses of my mouth. He’s calmer when we part .
I see Jasper off, walking with him up the hill. I could almost imagine I’m on top of the world, even though I know I’m but a small speck underneath the blanket of stars. Jasper is but a speck, too, when he walks out of sight.
I glimpse Jasper the next day, a smile on his lips as he passes.
The fresh bread, hard cheese, and mustard seed paste he gifted me the prior evening sit comfortably within my belly.
I wish I could tell him of my mother’s sigh as she ate her own meal.
But I don’t have a chance. Jasper is gone almost as quickly as he arrived.
The following day, Jasper returns to the stables.
The carriage is prepared, and I check the connections to the horses as the man I presume to be Jasper’s father converses with Victor.
I keep one eye on Jasper, careful to temper my smile.
Jasper seems less inclined to hide himself away, but I find I can’t chastise him for it, not even inside my own head.
Once payment has been made, Mr. Sinclair steps into the carriage, waving for Jasper to join him.
The hired coachman settles in his seat, and I have only a moment to lock eyes with the man I won’t see for likely a month or more.
There’s a sadness in his gaze, but he musters up a smile to send me.
I give a short nod, and Jasper steps up and out of sight.
Be it swiftly.
I hope, I hope, I hope.