Cartography for Beginners (37 page)

"We'll be on our best behavior," he promised.

"I've no doubt of that, Micah-child." He patted Micah's back and let the boys take the conversation in other directions.

"How is the new book coming, Dunie?" Ben said as they passed around the stew pot one last time.

"It's coming," Dune said, looking shy for the first time in -- well, as long as Stuart had known him. "I don't want to talk about it until I've got an actual first draft done."

"You can tell us a little," Ben said. "Micah says you've been writing every day and won't even tell him what you're working on."

"Superstition," Dune said. "I don't want to be one of those writers who are all talk and no actual writing. I'll tell you more about it when I'm sure it's going to work."

"How will you know when it's working?"

"When I get to the end."

Ben and Micah both groaned. Jamie said, "No, it makes sense. A first draft is like a preliminary sketch. You have to poke it a bit before you're sure it'll take."

"Jamie gets it," Dune said, pointing at him, and Jamie laughed.

"My boy's first novel," Leo said proudly.

"Don't get your expectations too high," said Dune. "It could suck and never move beyond the slush pile."

"It won't suck," Leo said. "I have faith in you."

"Aw, Dad." Dune kissed his forehead. "You're making me blush."

"Fatherly privilege," Leo said and gave another of those warm, hopeful looks to Stuart.

"Time to clean this mess up," Stuart said and picked up his plate. "Come along, children. Be grateful I have a dishwasher." The boys gathered their dishes with good-natured grumbling and they all carried everything into the kitchen. Ben had cleaned up as he cooked so there was little to attend to there, and it was a matter of getting everything rinsed and arranged.

Somehow -- Stuart suspected a conspiracy -- as soon as that was done, Ben excused himself by saying he did the cooking and was exempt, and Jamie said he wanted to show Leo the murals he'd painted on the house when he was younger, and Micah said, "I'll be right back," and scampered off. Stuart looked after them, puzzled, but since it was only a matter of getting the last of the wine put away he didn't try to call anyone back.

That left him with Dune. "Where do these go?" Dune asked, picking up the pots Ben had already washed and dried.

"The copper ones hang over the island. The rest go in the drawers in the island." Stuart got down a clean glass from the cupboard, deciding to finish off the dregs of the bottle rather than find a stopper.

"'Kay." Dune hung the big copper pot, and then said, "I liked Amelie and Nicole. They're fantastic girls."

"I rather thought so."

"I can't wait to meet Marc. I think I've seen a couple of his movies. And the baby, of course. It's always cool when people you like have kids -- like with Tristan and Laird. Have you ever met Tommy? Their daughter?"

"I've been in the same room with her once or twice."

"She's great. She's a great kid. Lots of fun now that she's walking and getting into things. And Micah has a niece, you know, and it's always a good day when she comes over."

"Dune," Stuart said, "are you trying to tell me you're pregnant?"

Dune laughed uncomfortably. "I'm trying to tell you I'm okay with them being my family. With you being my family. Our family. Shit," he said with an exasperated sigh, "I'm so much better when I write things down."

"Have you talked with your father about this at all?"

"No," Dune said. "Well, a little. Not so much about blending the family or anything, just -- look, I know we wouldn't be here,
he
wouldn't be here, if we didn't feel it was important."

"Leo and I haven't settled anything between us," Stuart said.

"I know. I guess I'm giving my blessing. I wanted Dad and Adam to get back together so bad for such a long time, but it's become obvious what a bad idea that would be. And I guess -- no," he corrected himself, "I
know
I'm satisfied with you being part of our family, and us being part of yours."

Stuart said, soft and stunned, "Thank you, Dune," and Dune smiled.

"You can call me Dunie. All my friends and family do."

"Dunie," Stuart whispered. Dune kissed his forehead like he had Leo's and left the kitchen.

Stuart stood there for a minute or two, trying to regain his equilibrium, and then went in search of Jamie and Leo. As he thought, he found them in the drawing room portion of the new house, where Jamie had painted a mural that continued the view outside the window, so that instead of looking at a blank wall one would see the hills rolling down to the valley until the land dipped down to the vineyard, in a sketch-like style that grew simpler at the edges like it was permanently unfinished.

"There he is," Jamie said, smiling at Stuart. "I figured the rest of the tour could be yours, but this bit's mine."

"You're absolutely right," Stuart said, "I'll show him the rest."

"You were how old when you painted this?" Leo asked Jamie.

"Nineteen. It was an experiment in perspective, mostly, and some
trompe l'oeil
."

Leo shook his head. "Amazing." He said to Stuart, "Do you need any more help in the kitchen?"

"It's taken care of," Stuart said. "Let's go outside." He took Leo's hand and tugged him out to the courtyard between the two arms of the grange. Jamie had captured the view beautifully, as he captured so many things, but sometimes Stuart found he preferred the real thing, where he could smell the many scents and feel the breeze in his hair.

"The famous olive tree," Leo said, and then added a muffled, "Mph," when Stuart abruptly stopped and kissed him. Leo's mouth was as delicious as it had ever been, as warm and welcoming, and Stuart held Leo's face and kissed him desperately, shaking all over.

Finally he pulled away to rest their foreheads together, gasping for breath, and Leo whispered, "Hey," and stroked Stuart's cheekbones with his thumbs. "Hey. It's okay. Tell me what's wrong."

Stuart said, his voice low and rapid, "If all you want is to be friends then I can be your friend, but I'd rather be your lover. I want to be your lover. I want to love you for the rest of my life and it terrifies me. Everyone's right, you know. I'm not the one for you. I know it and you know it and I still want you so much and I don't know what to do."

"Come here," Leo said gently and took him to the bench beneath the olive tree. The courtyard led to the terraced back garden, and they could hear fountains pour through the little canals to the pool at the bottom level.

Leo kept his arm around Stuart as they sat there, gently caressing his face and stroking his hair, and eventually Stuart was able to stop shaking. "Do you want to hear a story?"

"Sure," Stuart said and laid his head on Leo's shoulder. "Tell me a story."

"Once upon a time," Leo said, "there was a peasant who was quite ordinary in every way, except that he had a dragon." Stuart lifted his head from Leo's shoulder to look at him. Leo went on placidly, "Everyone in the village said he couldn't own a dragon, because dragons burn villages and eat peasants, but this particular peasant thought, while it's true no one can truly
own
a dragon, he could at least be kind to one. So he fed the dragon goat cheese and fresh bread and fish from the pond, and tended the dragon's wounds when it got hurt fighting other dragons for territory, and all in all was kind and giving to this dragon.

"In return, the dragon protected his flock from wolves and kept the hearth fires going in his kitchen, and if evil knights ever came to the village the dragon would chase them away. The villagers marveled at this and wondered how a dragon could be tamed by such a simple man. But the peasant knew a universal truth -- that love will tame anything, even the fiercest of dragons."

He said in his normal tone, "I'm not sure of the ending to this particular story. I think there might need to be some sort of showdown with the dragon and other dragons in the land, or maybe a good knight comes to slay it and the peasant has to defend it. Or maybe it gets a thorn in its paw like Androcles and the lion. Do dragons even have paws, or is there another name for their feet?"

"I'm not familiar with the anatomy of dragons," Stuart said.

"I think that despite all odds the peasant and the dragon end up living together happily ever after. What do you think?"

Stuart said, "So I'm a dragon."

"Ah," said Leo, "saw through my clever little fable, did you?"

"Not exactly the densest of metaphors, Leo, my dear."

Leo smiled at him. "I'm your dear."

"You're my love." He sighed and leaned forward to rest his arms on his thighs. "I still don't know what to do."

"I need you in my life," Leo said. "I don't care what other people say. You get a lot of judgment from people who don't really know you, but I know you. No matter what else happens, I'll always be your friend."

"I know," Stuart said softly. He lifted his head to look out over the garden. "I've never had a great many friends, not even when I was a boy. Colleagues, associates, employees, rivals -- but not friends." He took another deep breath. Leo remained silent. "Now suddenly my childhood friend is willing to speak to me again, and my children want me, and even the boys treat me like a friend -- and I'm waiting for all of it to crash down on me like a house of cards."

"Don't shake the table and it should be okay," said Leo with an uncertain laugh.

"I still don't know if you and I are good for each other."

"You're not my kind," Leo murmured.

"What?"

"That's what Frances said. You're not my kind. Of course I'm not sure what my kind actually
is
." He furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed. "Everyone has this idea of the kind of person I need but no one has ever asked me what I think about it."

"Someone new," Stuart said. "Someone who won't hurt you, who won't--"

"Stuart," Leo said patiently, "this idea that love means freedom from pain is sweet, but it's also naïve. Only the ones with potential to hurt you are the ones worth loving." He smiled a crooked smile, weary and wise. "I don't regret Adam, not one minute, no matter what people think, not the joy and not the pain. How could I? I loved him." Again that crooked smile. "So if you think I'm going to find myself someone young and untouched and harmless, it's not going to happen. What would be the point of a love like that?"

"You want to be hurt?" Stuart whispered.

"No." Leo's eyes searched Stuart's. "I don't want to be loved safely. I want to be loved fiercely. Passionately. I want someone who can't live without me, and that's not safe."

Stuart said, "I never know what to make of you."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning..." He made an exasperated sound. "Meaning I don't know why you do what you do. Why you want me. Why you... like me."

"I want you because you're desirable and I like you because you're likable." He raised his chin. "Come here and kiss me."

Stuart closed the few feet between them and grasped the back of Leo's neck. "I can't promise you perfection," he whispered and kissed Leo.

"I know," Leo said, hands clutching Stuart's waist. "Isn't it wonderful?"

Chapter Twenty-two

There were still questions to be answered -- Leo could see it in Stuart's eyes as they made out under the olive tree and cool breezes blew down the hill, making the branches above rustle and dance. They would get to those questions and their answers eventually. Right now this thing between them felt as fragile as a wine glass and Leo didn't want to let it shatter.

The sun went down and the lights came on in the courtyard. The whitewashed village was lit up in the valley below, and when Leo dragged himself away from Stuart enough to look, he could see other little farms and châteaux tucked in the hillsides, the neat orderly rows of vines and the river flowing beyond the village.

"So beautiful here," he whispered and smiled at Stuart before kissing him again.

"Leo," Stuart whispered. "Leo." He pulled his mouth from Leo's, holding his shoulders, and said again, "Leo."

"Stuart," Leo replied and kissed his neck. "I'm right here."

"Listen to me." He held Leo's face in his hands. "I need you to listen."

"Listening. I'm listening. I want you."

"I need you," Stuart said and Leo almost kissed him again for that, "to slow down."

Leo moved back with a sigh. "Okay."

"This isn't easy for me, either."

"I understand," Leo said. "You want to know for sure about me before this goes any further."

Stuart nodded. "Thank you." He rose with a slight groan. "I have a crick on my neck," he complained, rubbing the back.

"Sit down again and I'll rub it for you."

Stuart smiled at him wryly. "Maybe later. Right now, I need a drink." He went into the grange.

Leo stayed outside for a few minutes more, until the sun was completely set and the stars were coming out. He was rarely this far out of a city and the sky seemed enormous, the moon close enough to touch. He looked back when the door opened again, but it was Dune instead of Stuart.

"Hey," Dune said and plopped on the bench at Leo's side.

"Hey. Was Stuart okay when he went inside?"

"I suppose so," said Dune with a shrug. "He didn't say anything. He poured himself another glass of wine and went upstairs. I didn't ask, though -- I was trying to read one of his books, but apparently I've forgotten everything I learned in French class."

"Well, if you don't use a language you lose it," Leo said. "Stuart's bilingual because he's spoken both languages nearly every day of his life."

"You like that about him, don't you?"

"I do," Leo said. "I like that he speaks two languages, I like that he actually works in his vineyard, I like that everybody has a different way of describing him and they all fit--"

"Hot librarian," said Dune, nodding.

Leo chuckled. "Roman god," he confessed. "And David said he looks like a Viking."

"This is northern France," Dune said. "A lot of people here are descending from Vikings." He smiled at Leo gently. "Are you guys okay?"