Laying a Ghost (25 page)

“I know,” Nick snapped, a little more sharply than he’d meant to, taking his hand back and seeing the flicker of hurt in John’s eyes at the withdrawal. “I know. You’re right. Sorry.”

John reached down and picked up his backpack, shoving his water bottle inside with what looked like more force than was needed, leaving Nick’s apology unacknowledged. Then, as Nick watched, he bent down and picked up two stones, choosing one and slipping it inside his jacket pocket.

“There’s a cairn at the top.” John turned the remaining stone in his hand. “People take a rock up and leave it there in celebration of the climb. I never climbed this mountain with my dad; not sure he ever went up it himself, come to that, but I’ll leave one of these in memory of him. Do you want to do the same for Matthew?”

“Yes.” Nick wasn’t sure if he was ready to acknowledge that his agreement was more about John than it was about Matthew. “I’m sorry.” He held out his hand slowly, and just as slowly John reached out and put the stone into his palm. “I’m ... probably not going to be normal about him for a while.” It was another apology, although not in so many words.

John looked at him with a frown. “Normal?” Something very like impatience roughened his voice. “Grieving for someone you loved when they’ve been there for half your life, and being a wee bit snappy now and then
is
normal. And the way he died -- well, that was bad. But you don’t need to excuse yourself to me. There’s not a day gone by that I haven’t thought about my father and felt like -- Oh God, you
know
how I feel. I was supposed to go out with them that day and didn’t. Do you think I don’t blame myself, just a little, for that? With three of us it might’ve been different -- we could’ve kept the boat from going over, got back to shore --” He stopped, breathing quickly. “Deal with it how you like, but don’t feel you need to pretend. Yell at me if you like, cry on me if you want. Just -- don’t apologize, or I won’t be able to ask the same from you when I need someone to share the hurt with.”

After a few seconds of staring at Nick, John turned and started to walk up the mountain again. It wasn’t until then that Nick was able to move, to speak, to go after him and grab onto his wrist and stop him. John pivoted and looked back, and Nick kissed him, so hard that it hurt. Just the once, and then, while they were still standing close together, Nick said, “I don’t want to yell at you. And I’m not ready to cry -- I don’t know if I’ll ever be. But I’m here. You can ask me for anything and I’ll give it to you.”

John’s hand touched his face, lighter than the breeze, warmer than the sun, and then dropped to grip his shoulder. “If I have to, I’ll ask you. And thank you.” He leaned in and kissed Nick back, making it less bruising, soothing away the sting. “Mountain,” he murmured into Nick’s ear. “Needs climbing so that we can go home, where there’s that perfectly good bed.”

“Right.” Nick nodded. He stepped back and slipped the stone into his pocket, and then put his backpack on. “Let’s go.”

They started to walk again, and Nick did his best to let the peacefulness of the setting relax him. The rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other, of breathing, of the distant enough that they had to be imagined crash of the waves were like a balm to his raw nerves, so that by the time they reached the next fairly flat spot of ground and John slowed down, he glanced sideways at him and smiled a smile so genuine that it felt like his face might split in two.

John grinned back. “Nearly there. If we’d come up the south face you’d have a nice bit of rock climbing to do about now, but I’ve never been one for doing things the hard way when there’s no need for it.” He pointed ahead at a steep, rocky slope rising up sharply. “You can’t see it because of the angle, but at the top of that is, well, the top.” He pursed up his lips. “I want you to go first. See how from here there’s a path? Faint, but it’s there. Get it fixed in your head before you start and you’ll be fine. I’ll be right behind you.”

Nick frowned a little bit. “Okay. As long as you don’t mind that you could probably do it in half the time.”

“And sit at the top, all on my own, waiting for you?” John shook his head. “Where’s the fun in that?” His eyes glinted with amusement. “And this way I’ll get the chance to stare at
your
arse, because I’m damn sure you’ve been getting an eyeful of mine all morning.” He winked at Nick and then patted his backside gently. “Off you go, then.”

Self-consciously, Nick went. He didn’t stay self-conscious for long, though, because soon enough he was concentrating on where he put his feet and eventually his good hand as the climb became steeper. It never really ventured into the territory of dangerous -- Nick knew that on a theoretical level -- but there were times when he felt as if a foot put wrong might result in him falling who knew how far, and that was enough to make him focus carefully on what he was doing.

“That’s it,” John called out encouragingly, reminding him that if he fell there’d be someone there to break his fall -- or, knowing his luck, he’d take John with him and they’d both end up at the bottom of the slope. Then his groping hand came down on what wasn’t a narrow ledge of rock, but a plateau, and he hauled himself up and stood on the top of the mountain, his breath catching in his dry throat, the wind scouring the sweat from his forehead.

For a minute or two, he was alone up there, and he suspected that John was deliberately taking his time to allow him this moment of solitude and accomplishment. He’d never really understood why people wanted to scale peaks, go faster, higher, further. Still didn’t, not really, but he felt satisfaction stir as he looked around him. He’d gotten here. It had taken hours and it’d taxed him physically, more than he’d expected, but he’d done it.

The cairn John had mentioned was in the center of the rocky expanse, and Nick walked over to it and added the small stone, setting it right at the top. It was prey to the wind and the storms, and it would’ve been safer tucked in lower down, but Matthew would have put it there, he knew that.

Then he walked past the cairn to stare at the view behind the mountain, the one he hadn’t been looking at in quick, snatched glimpses as he climbed, and felt his breath quicken.

There were other islands out there, he knew that, but all he could see as far as the horizon was the ocean, sparkling, shimmering, glinting green. And his homeland lay on the other side of that shifting, deceptively peaceful water. Standing here, he was in possession of both his old life and his new, and the sense of displacement faded.

Behind him, he heard John reach the top, and he waited for the clink of stone on stone before turning to go over to him.

“Worth the climb?” John asked, setting down his pack.

“Yes. Although I don’t think I expected it to be quite that challenging.” Nick shrugged and put his own pack down beside John’s. “But it’s beautiful. I can see why it means something to you.”

“Doesn’t it call to anything in you?” John squatted down and rummaged in his pack, pulling out two cans of lager and offering one to Nick.

“What?” Nick took a can and held it in his hand. “No. I mean, yes, it does; that’s what I meant.” He breathed in the air deeply. “It’s like ... a sense of perspective. Like I know where I am in the world. Does that make sense?”

John opened the can, holding it away from him as the lager foamed up and drenched his hand. He shook it dry and swiped it casually against his jeans before taking a drink. “Aye, I think so. Does it feel like home? Even a little?”

“Not really.” Nick suspected the answer would disappoint John. “It feels like I don’t have a home. I mean, I’m an American, and I always will be, even though my mother was from here.” He wasn’t sure that was entirely true from the islanders’ viewpoints, based on what some of them had said, but it felt true to him. “But I never really had a home there, either. Not since I was little.”

He looked at John, who’d just taken another drink from his lager, and opened his own can, which did the same thing John’s had, bubbling up and over the top and his hand. The liquid was faintly cooled and smelled malty.

“Give it time. You only just got here.” John set his drink down. “How’s your appetite today? Want to eat before we start back down? Which, before you start smiling, is harder on the legs than walking up.”

“As long as it doesn’t look like it’s going to rain, I’m happy to stay up here as long as we can.” Nick drank some of his lager. His stomach contracted. “Food would be good. I’ve got cookies. Biscuits.” He’d grown up using both words because of his mother, but had eventually started to use the American term since it was less confusing. He’d have to train himself back out of it now.

“Suits me.” John sat down with his back against the cairn and began to take out some supplies for them; a couple of apples, some thick sandwiches of homemade bread with cheese or beef between the soft, chewy slices, and two chunks of fruit cake, dark and moist. “If I fall asleep after this, feel free to kick me if I snore.” He took a bite of his apple and then grinned. “
Do
I?”

“Snore? No. But I was wondering if I did, what with all the kicking that was going on last night.” Nick sat down beside John and nudged him with his knee to let him know that he was kidding, which it was clear John already did from the grin on his face as he crunched away at his apple. “I’m a pretty heavy sleeper. I probably wouldn’t notice even if you did snore.”

“Good.” John set his half-eaten apple down on the small plastic bag it had come out of. “I’d hate to think I did anything that made you wish I wasn’t in bed with you.” He slipped his hand up to Nick’s face and turned it so that he could kiss him. “And even though you were pulling the covers off me every time you turned over, I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else last night.”

Nick stole another kiss, unwilling to give up the warmth of John’s mouth once it was offered. They’d had sex again that morning after waking up, slow and sweet, without any of the desperation they’d both felt the night before, and with Nick lying on his belly, John’s mouth pressed to the back of Nick’s shoulder as John thrust into him. Nick had used the pillow to stifle his moans and had come on the sheets a good five minutes before John found his own shuddering release, hands propping him up and cock pushing deeper in measured strokes.

He wanted to wake up like that every morning, with John’s insistent erection rubbing against his and John’s arms around him.

“I guess it would be too cold to sleep up here, even at the height of summer,” Nick said wistfully, resting his hand on John’s thigh and looking out across the island.

“You’d get bitten to death before you froze.” John slipped his arm around Nick’s shoulders and nuzzled gently into his neck for a moment, his mouth tickling and teasing. “We could though, if you like. Maybe in August when it’s as hot as it gets. Doesn’t even have to be all the way up here; there’s a loch inland a bit. We could sleep on the shore and I’d catch you a fish for supper and breakfast. Maybe even swim; it’s not too deep.” John smiled, tracing his finger along Nick’s jaw. “I’d like to have you wet and naked, lying in the heather beside me, cuddling up to get warm.” His thumb brushed against Nick’s mouth, followed by his lips. “It’s starting to get dark again by then, properly dark. The stars are so thick you can’t see the sky, and the air’s like honey with the scent of the heather.”

“Sounds perfect.” They began to kiss again, neither of them pulling away, John’s hand on Nick’s shoulder kneading gently as Nick turned to face him more fully. John’s mouth tasted sharp and sweet, and the feel of his tongue in Nick’s mouth was enough to make Nick hard. He ran his own hand up John’s thigh.

“God, Nick,” John whispered, sounding tempted to the point of surrender. “You -- we can’t. Not here.”

Nick moved his hand higher and let it rest against the undeniable evidence that John was as aroused as he was, rewarded by a soft sound of need and another kiss, John’s mouth eager but tense against his.

He could feel how torn John was, and as much as he wanted him, Nick didn’t want to do anything that would hurt him. “I know.” Nick pressed one last kiss to John’s warm lips before pulling back, turning his head and looking down at the trampled grass between his boots as he tried to get himself under control. After a moment or two, he dared a glance in John’s direction, wondering if the other man was angry that he’d pushed it even as far as he had.

John was looking at him with a dejected, frustrated expression that somehow made Nick feel better. “I’m sorry. It’s just -- I know we haven’t seen a soul all morning, but trust me, there’s people about, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were climbers on the south face heading up here for their lunch, the same as us.”

“Then let’s not give them anything to look at but a couple of guys eating lunch.” Nick leaned over and snagged one of the sandwiches. He took an enormous bite so that he wouldn’t have to say anything for a minute or so, chewing slowly and looking at the world below them, greens and browns blending together if he let his eyes go unfocused.

John sighed and settled back, taking a sandwich of his own. “When we get back, you’ll be aching from head to foot.”

“I kind of am already.” Nick swallowed his mouthful, enjoying the tangy bite of whatever was spread over the cheese. “But I’ll survive.”

“I’ve got to do some errands for the party tomorrow. It won’t take me long, but I was wondering -- Thursday nights Michael and Sheila usually come by after supper and stay a while. We watch a film, or just talk, and Sheila’s mum minds the kids. Would you come and join us? I’d like fine for you to meet them before the party.”

Nick was surprised and probably did a poor job of hiding it. “Okay. I mean ... are you sure you want to do that?”

“If you’re not too tired. They’re my friends, and I’d rather you met them when we’re not in a crowd.” John cleared his throat. “They’ll see me with you, and they’ll know you’re more than a neighbor just from the look on my face. Are you sure you won’t mind that?”

“I don’t care who knows.” Nick met John’s blue eyes for a few very long seconds before looking away, embarrassed by the knowledge that his devotion was already so strong and impossible to deny. “If I’m tired, I’ll take a nap before dinner. Like you said, they’re your friends. I want to meet them. And it’d be nice to have a couple of familiar faces at the party.”