In the morning, Reid rose early, as was his habit. He threw on a dressing gown—an indulgence of his father’s that he had adopted—over his undershorts and undershirt, stepped into the hallway. The door to Olivia’s room was still closed… which meant nothing, really. Reid could hear nothing in the hallway but the ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs and the sound of his own breathing.
He tiptoed downstairs and noticed with some relief that Elias’ coat still hung on the coatrack by the door, which could mean only that he was, for now, still here.
In the kitchen, Reid put together a pot of coffee. He was not particularly hungry after last night’s late meal, but if Elias wanted something, he could offer the boy more eggs or oatmeal.
While he waited for the coffee to percolate, he sat at the table and let his thoughts roam, as they had done of their own volition last night before he’d finally drifted off to an uncomfortable and dream-addled sleep. Those thoughts, again, did not seem to want to roam too far; they centered specifically on the young man still asleep upstairs. Reid imagined the too-thin body he had glimpsed last night in the bathroom, with the criss-crossing of old scars on the back, and the dusting of dark hairs on the chest and belly. He imagined the sweep of raven-black hair and the sparse beard on a strong jaw.
He imagined the look that had hovered in the air between them, one that he had perhaps conjured out of nothing.
For all that, he had resisted the temptation, last night, to go to him, to slip into his room and present himself and his desires to the boy.
He did not want—yet—that to be the way of things between them.
—
The smell of the brewing coffee perfused the room; he got up and poured himself a cup, adding a dollop of honey and some cream to go with it, went back to sit at the table. Bright autumn sunshine promised a warm day, a kind of Indian summer and a rarity, for all that. The reds and golds, coppers and bronzes of autumn provided a welcome counterpart to the cerulean sky. This, he knew, was one reason why he had stayed here; each year brought these rich treasures to these gentle, womanly mountains, graced them with this astonishing and ever-changing beauty.
There was, then, some noise from upstairs: someone’s—well, Elias’—slight tread on the floor as he roused himself. The sound brought Reid back to the here and now and he understood that the next hour might prove a turning point in his life, one way or the other. He downed the coffee, went to prepare more.
—
Presently, Elias came downstairs; Reid steeled himself for whatever might happen. He watched the boy go over to the hall tree, pull his coat off, drape it over an arm. Elias was dressed for the day. He was dressed for the road, for the outside, for traveling. Reid thought of the gun.
“Elias,” he said.
Elias started, turned towards Reid. They looked at each other. Then, from him, “Good morning, Reid. I… didn’t know you were up.”
“I’ve always been an early riser.”
“Ah.”
“I have coffee on, if you want some.”
Elias hesitated, caught between wishing to leave and wishing to stay. “Well…” he began.
At least this, Elias, Reid thought. Give me at least this much. Aloud, “I can’t drink all of it by myself. It’ll just go to waste if you don’t have some.”
Elias came into the kitchen, sat across from Reid at the old round quarter-sawn oak table his grandfather had owned. Reid rose, fetched a cup from the sideboard, filled it. He sat again, slid the cup over to Elias.
“Thank you,” Elias said, quietly.
“You’re welcome.”
Elias made a face. “For… well, everything, of course. For giving me a place to stay for the night. It… it meant a lot.”
“Of course.”
Elias took a sip of the coffee, set it down, added some of the honey to it.
Reid chuckled. “It’s too strong,” he said. “I always do that. Sorry.”
Elias smiled. “No, no… it’s good. My… father makes it the same way.”
Reid heard the hesitation in that sentence, thought of the scars he’d glimpsed on Elias’ back. Someone gave those to him, he reminded himself. “So did mine,” he said. Elias said nothing to that. Reid couldn’t tamp down the need to ask; he knew that it might drive Elias away, but he couldn’t let it go. “I… need to ask you something, Elias.”
“Yes,” he answered.
Not a question, Reid noted. A statement. As if the boy already knew what it was going to be. “In your pocket…” Reid began. “The… the gun.”
“Yes.”
“I… Elias, I have to know. Were you going to use it? On me?”
Elias said nothing for a moment. Then, “No, Reid. I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.”
Reid heard the particular stress on that last word; he thought of the thing the boy had said, about walking as far as he could. Obviously, he was running from something, from someone. “Don’t use it,” he said. “Please. Just… don’t.”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Reid.”
“It’s not worth it, Elias. Nothing is worth that.” Reid took a breath, took a chance. “He’s… not worth it.”
“You don’t understand it, Reid. I’m sorry, but you don’t.”
Reid looked down at the table, his heart hammering. These next words could change everything, he understood. He looked back up at Elias. “What if I said that I did?”
Elias studied Reid through slitted eyes. Reid returned his gaze, unblinking, trying to show the boy the honesty of it, the truth of. “How long?” Elias asked.
“For as long as I can remember,” Reid answered. “It was never… not there.”
Elias nodded. “The worst kind of secret…”
Reid nodded, picked up the trail. “… because you can never tell it to anyone who doesn’t already know it.” He tapped his forehead. “Always buried in here.” He tapped his chest, directly over his heart. “Always buried in here.”
Elias nodded again. “And always afraid that others can see it on you, like a third eye, or… or some kind of birthmark.”
“Or a scar,” Reid added, quietly.
Elias looked away. “Yes,” he whispered.
The two of them sat quietly for a long moment, letting small things fill in the greater truths.
Reid cleared his throat. “What will you do now?”
Elias sighed. “I… I don’t know.” He laughed without humor. “I’ve never known, really. I hoped it would pass, at first, but it didn’t. It wouldn’t.”
“It doesn’t,” Reid added. “It grows only stronger.”
Elias nodded. “I know that, now.” He drained the last of his coffee, stood up. “Well, no matter. I’ll get out of your hair, Reid.”
Reid stood with him. “At least stay for breakfast, Elias. Get some food in you.”
The boy shook his head. “No. I’ve burdened you enough already.”
“You haven’t been a burden, Elias.” Reid paused, took a breath. “You would never be a burden.”
Elias turned to look at the older man. “Reid…” he sighed.
“I’ll say it directly, Elias. No equivocation, no mincing words, no misdirection. I want you to stay here, with me.”
Even as Reid was saying, Elias shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just… you don’t even know me, Reid! It’s been, what… not even a day? You don’t know what kind of person I am. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I think I do.” He smiled. “I know one thing about you.”
Elias sighed. “Your neighbors…” He gestured vaguely over his shoulder.
“It’s none of their business, Elias.”
“But it is, Reid. It always is. You know it’s true. They’ll start asking a few innocent-seeming questions, then a few more, and they’ll know the truth of it before you’re even aware that it’s happening.”
Reid shook his head. “People see what they want to see. They believe what they want to believe.”
“People aren’t stupid, Reid.”
Reid tried to take the edge out of his voice. “Well, if you want to go down that road, Elias, they probably already have me figured out. A single man of a certain age, with no obvious desire for a girlfriend or a wife? They know. They just won’t say it.”
“But, if I live here…”
Reid shrugged his shoulders. “A student, going to college here. A cousin, perhaps, in from Charleston or Beckley. Someone down on his luck, looking for a cheap place to stay with someone who has a spare room and the desire for a little more cash in his pocket each month. That one’s true enough, at least.”
Elias sat there, quietly. Another unspoken thing filled the air between them. Finally, he spoke. “And, the rest of it?”
Reid’s mouth quirked. “The rest of it?”
Elias smiled. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do,” he answered. “Is… is that something you would want, Elias?”
“Isn’t that what you want, Reid?”
“I’ll be honest, Elias. Yes. You’re a beautiful young man.” And I’ve been far too lonely for far too long, he thought. But that isn’t what this is.
Elias looked down to the floor, dragged a foot across the broadloom rug. He said nothing for a long moment. Reid was very conscious of the rough rhythm of the boy’s breathing. Then, Elias looked back up at Reid, closed his eyes. A tear slid down one cheek, followed by another. “Yes,” he whispered. “That’s what I want, too.”
Reid stood up, went over to the boy, drew him up out of the chair and embraced him. Reid knew that he wanted nothing more than to take this beautiful young man upstairs to his bed and make love to him, but he fought down that temptation. Acknowledging this thing between the two of them was enough for now, as was this embrace. Reid held Elias for as long as it took for his trembling to subside, then released him.