Chapter 6
Abraham
Jasper settles on the blanket, his shirt tucked into his breeches once more, the lamplight casting a soft glow over his features. I find my place beside him, the mess I left now beneath us, tucked away against the dirt.
He reaches for the sack of food he brought, passing it over. “Would you like something to eat?”
I accept the offering, pulling a small hunk of bread free. Water would also be welcome, but we don’t have any.
“How was your time away?” I ask, setting the rest of the food aside.
He hums, waiting for me to lie back down before finding a home against my shoulder. “Pleasant enough, but… I kept wanting to be back here. With you.”
It warms me to hear it, if only to have proof that Jasper thought of me as I thought of him.
His voice turns almost shy. “Could I read you a letter now?”
I nod, and he hurries to collect his waistcoat.
From inside, he pulls out a bundle of papers, so many of them it takes my breath away.
He unfurls the stack, picking one off the top before pulling the oil lamp closer and resettling against me.
He clears his throat, face downcast, my only view of him the top of his head as he begins to read, his words nearly piercing my heart with their sweetness.
“My warrior. It hasn’t been long that we’ve been apart, but I fear any length of time is too long for me.
I don’t understand how I could have passed from day to day without knowing you.
It feels like another life, one not my own.
Because now, all I see is you. Do you think it’s possible to know someone before you’ve met?
That’s how I feel. As if I’ve known you far longer than mere weeks.
I imagine a world where our being together would be as easy as breathing.
But it’s not, and that truth aches in my lungs.
I pray it is not only me falling down this rabbit’s warren.
Please tell me you are with me? That you’ll walk by my side through these dark and dampened trails?
I won’t be afraid if I have you. I couldn’t be.
The stars were out last night, my warrior, and I smiled at the sight of them.
Did you look at them the same? The sword in the north called to me, and I felt close to you, as if I could reach up and touch your skin.
Soon. I’ll return to you soon. With every promise, J. ”
My throat is tight as I swallow. Jasper sets the letter onto his leg. He doesn’t look up, is quiet for a long moment.
“It’s not only you,” I tell him, a rasp and nothing more.
“What?”
“Jasper, it’s not only you. Would you look at me?”
He does, finally lifting his head. I pluck his chin higher into the air, a position of pride he should always feel worthy of carrying. He sighs against my mouth as I kiss him, as I make my feelings perfectly clear. His eyes shine darkly when we part.
“Would you read me another?” I ask .
With his lips in a small smile, he nods, clearing his throat before picking up a new page.
“My warrior…”
Jasper reads letter after letter, each signed inconspicuously with the letter J, until the oil lamp goes out and he’s forced to stop. Even then, we stay wrapped up in one another for a long while.
It’s easy to believe—when the rest of the world is out of sight—that we could exist just like this. Without worry. Without repercussion.
Without end.
The days and weeks pass quickly. With Jasper home, my time feels less monotonous than it once did.
Interspersed with my days at the stables are glimpses of Jasper and his smile on the way to the printer.
And at night, whenever he’s able, Jasper comes to the creek.
We touch. Kiss. Lie together under the stars.
Until it’s once again time to part.
One Sunday while we’re basking with our toes in the creek, Jasper says, “Why do they say it’s wrong? The two of us.”
The sun overhead feels far too bright for this conversation. “Because their god said so.”
Jasper’s retort is full of fire. “But he didn’t. His teachings were written by men. And men are fallible.”
I hum, loving the way Jasper’s mind works .
“I don’t understand how it could be wrong,” he goes on, his pale skin having tanned some in the summer months we’ve spent together.
His breeches are still wet from our swim, and my gaze drifts lazily along the outline of his soft prick before I refocus on Jasper’s words and his brightly lit cheeks.
“It does not feel wrong to me. It feels like the most perfect thing. Why do people fear what they cannot control?”
“I think you may have answered your question,” I say, shifting to run my fingers along his arm. “Powerful men seek to command. Even when it comes to love.”
Jasper’s head rolls my way. “It’s not right.”
He shivers when I trace my finger up the inside of his elbow. “I seem to recall you telling me you never dared to fight your foes. Yet you sound ready to take up arms, my starry-eyed boy.”
He snorts indelicately. “If I were as brave as you, maybe I would. But I don’t know how to fight something so…vast.”
“We do it in our own way,” I tell him, covering Jasper’s body with my own. He welcomes me, his arms wrapping around my neck, his smile sweet and hopeful.
“And what way is that?”
I kiss his neck, the soft spot that makes him moan for me. “I can think of many, many ways. Allow me to show you?”
His voice comes out breathless. “If you make me spend, we’ll need to take another dip in the creek.”
“Perish the thought,” I murmur, rolling against his hips.
Jasper’s eyes close, his parted lips a temptation I can’t ignore. We rut and kiss, blunt nails raking down my back as Jasper swells beneath me, his cry one I swallow down. I follow him mere seconds later, my very heart pressed to me from outside my chest .
Jasper is boneless when I drag him into the creek. His smile is languid, his eyes catching mine as he washes out his breeches. “That was careless of us. To be in the open like that.”
I don’t disagree with him, but we were quick. “Next time, I’ll carry you inside.”
“To our crumbling home?”
I laugh softly, but I like the sound of that more than he knows. A home for us, crumbling or not.
“I should be getting back shortly,” I tell him. “My mother wasn’t her best this morning, and I want to check after her.”
Jasper is quiet for a moment. “Could I… Could I meet her, do you think?”
My head whips his way. “Jasper… I don’t know if that would be wise.”
His voice comes out almost pleading. “She wouldn’t have to know about us. But we’re friends, are we not?”
“You know that’s complicated for men like us.”
Jasper looks down at the water, and I hate to see him turning his face from me so. I reach for his hand, relief loosening my chest when he squeezes me back.
“I won’t ever be able to bring you home, Abraham. But if we can trust your mother, I’d really like to see yours.”
My heart aches. It’s not my mother I’m worried about.
She already knows of Jasper, at least in part.
She may not know him by name or even the true nature of our relationship, but she’s aware of our family’s benefactor.
She’s never pried for more details than I’ve given her, and I don’t expect she’d do so now.
But everyone else? Those who live near us who might see Jasper walking by so out of place?
“We’ll need to be careful,” I tell him.
He brightens immediately. “Of course. I’ll follow your lead.”
“And my home… It won’t be what you’re accustomed to.”
“I don’t care.” The words are as forceful as the look in his eyes. “It’s yours, which will make it perfect.”
I let out a slow, slow breath. “I wasn’t made to resist you, Jasper Sinclair.”
“I do not wish for you to try.”
I laugh at his candidness, swooping forward to steal a kiss from his lips. By his answering grin, it wasn’t so much stolen as a gift freely given.
Jasper and I dry the best we can before re-dressing and starting off toward my house.
His hand tangles with mine until we’re too close to the inhabitants of town to chance such proximity.
Jasper follows me at a steady pace inside the tree line, the path keeping us out of sight for a long while.
We pass the small, wooden houses along the stretch where I live, their roofs thatched, many in need of repair.
Once my home is in sight, I ask Jasper to wait so I can prepare my mother. She won’t want to be caught unawares by company.
I’m quick to head inside, finding her sitting near the open window. She’s working on a blanket for the winter, but she stops when I walk in.
“Mama,” I say, not mincing words with Jasper waiting so near outside. “I have a friend who’d like to visit. May he come in?”
“I… Yes, of course,” she says, smoothing her hair back. She leaves the blanket on her lap and gives me a nod.
I head back outside, finding Jasper peeking at me through the trees.
I smile and wave him forward, and he walks my way as if lacking a single care in the world, when I know that’s not the case.
With his stockings off and his waistcoat held in his hand, he could almost pass as belonging here at the quickest of glances .
Almost.
I open the door for him to pass through, and once inside, I shut us in. My mother is quick to appraise Jasper. From his fine clothing to his posture and the filled-to-bursting haversack slung over his shoulder, I have no doubt she realizes exactly who he is.
“Mama, this is Jasper Sinclair,” I introduce. “Jasper, my mother, Abigail Morris.”
Jasper steps forward, tugging the sack off his arm. He opens it, rifling through the contents until he pulls a small container forth. “Ma’am. I brought blackberry jam. Catherine says it’s your favorite, and she made up this batch fresh. I hope you like it.”
My mother accepts the glass jar, looking somewhat shocked. “Catherine,” she says slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Catherine Turner. She’s your family’s maid.”
Pain flashes across Jasper’s face before he hides it away, offering my mother the smallest of smiles.
He takes a seat across from her in one of our wooden chairs.
“She is a kind woman who has always been good to me, even as she never needed to be. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Morris. Thank you for having me in your home.”
My mother looks from Jasper to me, holding my gaze for a long moment. My stomach twists, but finally she hands me the jar of jam. “I’m certain I will love this, Jasper. Thank you for bringing it.”
He looks relieved, a wide smile gracing his face as he passes me the sack of food. I unload the rest of the items, my ear on the conversation as I work to steady my breaths. Jasper is speaking now.
“You knit? Catherine does as well. I never learned it. ”
“No, I don’t suspect you would have,” my mother says, not unkindly. “I do. More now than I used to.”
“That’s a lovely blanket. Do you need more wool? I’m sure I could procure some.”
“Jasper,” I say, turning from the table, the empty sack in my hands. “You don’t need to do that.”
He looks from me to my mother. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Why is it you are helping us?” my mother asks slowly.
Ah, heavens .
Jasper’s brow creases for only a moment.
“Because Abraham has become a dear friend. He’s a good man, and by extension, I know you must be good, too, by virtue of how he speaks of you.
I don’t pretend to be a savior. But, ma’am, surely you must know I have more than I need.
I do not mind parting with it. Not if it eases even a little of that tension beside Abraham’s eyes. ”
I close my eyes tight, stars dancing in my vision.
“And if your mother finds out? Your father?”
Jasper answers my mother steadily. “Then they will chastise me for my excess. Nothing more. I will not tell them the truth of it.”
I open my eyes to find my mother regarding Jasper. He’s far too transparent. Innocent. I should not have brought him here.
“A red, perhaps, or yellow would make a fine border for this blanket,” my mother says at last.
Jasper looks thrilled. “I will see to it.”
My heart squeezes as he turns his grin my way, so very pleased. I offer a smile, not able to deny him such.
Jasper stays for near an hour before he must go. I check outside first, and then we walk to the edge of the trees, my pulse calming only once we’re within their protection. We move in silence for some time, until Jasper breaks the quiet .
“Thank you, Abraham. I’m glad to have met your family.”
I pull Jasper’s hand into mine and kiss his soft skin, my chest so very tight.
When we reach the creek, Jasper stands on tiptoe to brush his lips against mine. “Be it swiftly.”
It’s our most treasured farewell, as it’s not a farewell at all. Only a promise of meeting again.
“Swiftly,” I agree, hoping for it with everything I am.
Once Jasper disappears over the hill, I turn for home, a rock beside my heart. My mother hasn’t moved in the time I’ve been gone, although her knitting is set aside.
“Abraham,” she says, voice low.
I pull in a breath, waiting. She knows. I’m sure of it.
“You must be careful. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Mama…”
“I can’t lose you,” she says, her voice cracking over the words. “I cannot lose you, Abraham. My heart couldn’t take it.”
I reach her side quickly, curling my hand around hers. She squeezes me tight, fear in her eyes. Fear and acceptance of what she knows to be true.
“I will, Mama. I promise. I’ll be careful.”