One for the Gods (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (21 page)

Charlie didn’t shift his position when Martha reappeared, although he stopped the caressing movement of his fingers. When she reached the cockpit carrying plates, he removed his hands from Peter and took the plates, meeting her eye and smiling up at her. “Here, baby. Go ahead and eat,” Charlie directed, offering a plate to Peter. “I can manage the wheel with my feet.”

Peter couldn’t believe his ears as he relinquished the wheel and took the food. Martha sat on the bench beside them. The preparation of food seemed to have rescued her from the odd disintegration that had begun almost as soon as they had left port the evening before. She had arranged her hair and put on lipstick and was once more the pretty, comfortable woman they knew. Only the way she looked at Charlie was new; it told him he could do no wrong.

The plates contained ham-and-egg sandwiches on slabs of French bread and hamburgers, sensible food under the circumstances, easy to eat. They pushed it into their mouths, laughing a great deal at their piggishness. When they had finished, they licked their fingers and groaned with pleasure and exclaimed about how good it had been.

“You’re so wonderful to be with,” Martha said, looking at Charlie. “You always seem to be having such fun together.”

Charlie ran his hand through Peter’s hair and gripped it and rocked his head back and forth.

“What do you expect with a nut like this? God, you’re absolutely solid with salt.” He leaned toward him and, holding the back of his head with one hand, licked the forefinger of the other and began to wipe salt delicately from Peter’s eyelashes. “Your god-damn furry eyelashes.” He glanced at Martha. “Have you noticed them? They’re amazing.”

“I know. I’ve been green with envy,” Martha said, her eyes not wavering from Charlie.

Peter’s blushes came and went, happily concealed, he was sure, by his tan. He had longed so for everything to return to normal between them; he had dreaded any new or unexpected shift in Charlie’s moods, but this was so thrilling that he succumbed to it without making any attempt to understand it. He supposed that to Martha there might seem nothing sexual about it but he knew that Charlie was putting their relationship on display in a way that was a defiance of everything he knew of his nature. Even “baby” might seem innocuous enough to her, but it was Charlie’s most secretly intimate term of endearment and he had said it aloud in front of a third person. Had it been a slip of the tongue? No. Charlie didn’t make slips of the tongue, and the way he was putting his hands on him made it clear that he had wanted to say it. Peter had resumed control of the wheel and he was glad that he had something to hold onto so that he couldn’t be tempted to respond in kind. God knows what they might end up doing.

“Scoot forward just a bit,” Charlie said. “If I could get a leg up here behind you I could sort of stretch out a little.” Peter edged forward and Charlie put his leg up on the cushion. He put his hands on Peter’s waist and pulled him back close in between his open legs so that Peter could feel his sex begin to stir behind him. “There How’s that?” Charlie demanded with a tremor of laughter in his voice.

“Great,” Peter managed, hoping the gasp couldn’t be heard in it. He gripped the wheel, waiting for his heart to calm down. Charlie laid a hand on his shoulder and began to instruct him further in the handling of the boat. He put Martha to work trimming sheets as he had Peter head into the wind and fall off and taught him how to come about. There was too much wind to attempt to jibe. When Charlie leaned forward to check the compass, Peter could feel the aroused sex shifting about until it was thrust up hard against the small of his back. The sides of their heads brushed against each other. Charlie had obviously decided to drive him mad with desire. When something was said that gave him an excuse to laugh, Peter released his pent-up, enthralled excitement in peals of laughter. Charlie joined in. Martha sat back and watched them with an approving smile.

“You really are marvelous together,” she said. “I’ve never seen two more attractive men.”

Late in the morning, when he was confident that Peter was capable of handling the boat under stable conditions, Charlie decided that he ought to get some rest.

“Just stay on the wheel,” he told Peter when he had sent Martha forward on a manufactured errand. “If you get hungry, let Martha bring food up to you. If there’s any change in the weather, shout for me. I want to show them that we can manage this by ourselves.”

“By ourselves!” Peter murmured. “If only we were. I suppose you know I’m apt to tear your clothes off at any moment.”

Charlie chuckled and rose and let his fingers stray along Peter’s shoulder for a moment, and then went below. He picked his way through the debris in the cabin and dropped onto a bunk and slept.

When he awoke, after performing a summary toilet in the cramped head and putting on fresh shorts, he climbed up and stood in the hatch and looked around. A long, green, wooded island ahead of them pierced him with a thrill of incredulous delight. Corsica. They had found it. Land looked solid and hospitable. The sea was calmer and the wind had dropped a bit. They were still moving along smartly. He looked aft where the three were gathered in the cockpit. Peter and Martha greeted him with happy smiles. Jack seemed to come to attention slightly, as if he wanted to look his most alert and competent. Charlie moved around behind the wheel and touched Peter’s shoulder.

“I’ll take it now,” he said. “You need some sleep, too.”

“Actually, it’s my watch coming up,” Jack said.

“I’ll let you take it in a while. I want to check everything on deck.”

“I figure we’ll be in before six if the wind doesn’t poop out. I wouldn’t want to come in here at night.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jack. We’ve got the pilot instructions. According to the chart, there’s a big open bay at Calvi with plenty of anchorage. There’s nothing to it. How about getting the mizzen up?”

“Do you think it’s worth the bother?”

“If you want to get in before dark.” He looked at Peter and winked. “Go on below and get some sleep.”

“You’re indestructible,” Martha said to Charlie. “You’ve had barely three hours.”

They sailed into the bay at Calvi not long after five o’clock. The still water was a shock to all of them; their bodies had become forcefully conditioned to the pitch of the sea. They brought the three sails down and Charlie switched on the motor and headed into the quai. When they were close enough, he cut the motor back and glided into position to drop anchor.

“Let her go,” he called to Peter and Jack in the bow. The harsh rattle of chain rang out over the peaceful water. The stern swung around. Charlie put the motor into reverse. His maneuvering with the unfamiliar motor was less skillful than his sailing; he engaged in a good deal of backing and filling, cursing to himself.

Jack had come back and was standing beside him. “I’d better take over,” he said.

Charlie cursed him silently. “I have to get the hang of it, Jack,” he said reasonably. Loungers had gathered on the quai. When they were within reach, Martha and Peter threw stern lines to them. Jack was once more in the bow playing out chain. As they were pulled in, Charlie cut the motor. In the stunning silence, his body was caught by a deep, shuddering breath. He felt safe. He hadn’t known it was possible to feel so safe. He looked across the still water at the wide sweep of the bay and the towering peak that rose above it, still bearing traces of snow on its summit, and felt totally enclosed and protected. He could understand Martha’s reluctance to leave harbor. Yet there was the big sense of achievement, too. He had done something important. He wanted more of the same. He couldn’t imagine nature having anything worse in store for them; he wanted to explore and extend the satisfactions of his command. He stirred himself and looked astern. Peter had leaped ashore and was securing their lines. Charlie unlashed the gangplank and hoisted it aft and eased it over to Peter and coupled it to the deck. When Peter came aboard, they all went to work furling the heavy sails. It was hard work and they were sweating when it was done.

“I could use a drink,” Jack said.

Naturally, Charlie thought. “I could, too,” he agreed. “Then we’ll run along.”

“You’re going ashore?”

“Of course. There must be a hotel here.”

“There’s still a lot of work to do. Everything’s a mess below.”

“Now, come on, Jack. You haven’t had what could be called a strenuous time of it so far. You can surely stow things below.”

“As you wish.” Martha produced glasses and ice and whisky and brought up the shaker of martinis. When they’d had one drink, Peter and Charlie went below to gather up their toilet kit and fresh shirts and trousers.

“Listen,” Peter said when they were out of earshot. “Maybe we should stay with them tonight. It’s our first stop. They seemed to expect it.”

“Hell, no. It was clearly understood that we’d go ashore when we were in port. I’ve had enough of them for the moment. I want to be with you.”

Peter couldn’t argue with that. They climbed back up on deck and said goodnight to the Kingsleys and left them, Martha looking lonely, Jack resentful.

There wasn’t much to the town. There was a row of low buildings across the street from the quai. There was long, white building across the bay that looked like a grand hotel, but they didn’t want to go that far. They found a restaurant with rooms above it and went up to wash and change for dinner.

“God. A bed,” Charlie exclaimed when they were alone in the room. “I feel as if I hadn’t seen one for days. Don’t let me go anywhere near it or I’ll never get up.”

“Is something going on in your head? I mean, I can hardly walk straight.”

“Sure. I’m really reeling. The motion of the ocean.”

“It’s normal? I thought there was something wrong with me.”

Charlie smiled and went to him and took him in his arms and held him close. “There’s nothing wrong with you, baby. God, you were good last night.” He kissed him on the ear.

“I wish I’d been able to do something.”

“You did plenty. I don’t think I could’ve got through it if you hadn’t been there.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll always be there.”

Charlie released him with a hug and stood with his arm around his shoulder as he opened the toilet case and sorted out their things. It had never occurred to Peter that he would welcome a shift in the whole pattern and feeling of their being together but this was turning into one of the memorable days of his life. He wanted to tell Charlie what it had felt like being held in front of Martha but he didn’t want to spoil it by making him self-conscious and decided to wait and see if Charlie would give him a clue as to why he had done it. It had been sexless, in a way, except when he had pulled him in close between his legs. The thrill of it was still with him as he warned himself to let Charlie take all the initiative in this new public display of physical intimacy. Until he understood it, there was a danger of making the wrong move.

Feminine passivity was not alien to him. As he had insisted to himself and Charlie, Jeannot had been only an aberration. He was quite aware of the broad feminine streak in his nature and was inclined to take an amused and tolerant view of it. He didn’t see how it could hurt anybody but himself. There was scope enough for his masculinity in the management of their lives; he had been the breadwinner, he was making a successful career in a fiercely competitive field, he knew how money worked and enjoyed using his knowledge, he responded to the hunt. He had been tough with Charlie about his work, insisting that he devote all his time to it, had constituted himself the guardian of his talent and had had the satisfaction of watching him slowly win substantial recognition.

On the other hand, he had felt no male compunctions about dropping the de Belleville deal just when he was on the point of pulling it off. His man had called and he had followed, even though there were things in the collection—some superb bronzes, some startling antique glass—that he was particularly well-placed to dispose of for a profit he had calculated might go as high as fifty thousand dollars. He didn’t think the deal would fall through, even in his absence, but he couldn’t imagine having any deep regrets if it did. He had always had a cheerful and sanguine view of life, despite not having had a particularly happy childhood (a bigoted but ineffectual father, a series of dreary military schools). Everything that happened after was what counted. Charlie had seduced him and revealed to him the true nature of his sexual appetites just at an age when they might have emerged under less happy circumstances to eternally torment him. His optimism had been put to a test only twice; once when Charlie had rejected him in favor of marriage, but that had been for only a few months and had given him an opportunity for a doubtless necessary and beneficial sexual education; the second time was so bound up with the obliterated memory that it too had been obliterated, though while it was going on he had felt that it would destroy him. Charlie had saved him; his man, his husband, Charlie who seemed to be, inexplicably, hard on the heels of the worst crisis they had ever been through, on the verge of publicly acknowledging what Peter had always regarded as a truer marriage than that of most people he knew.

Charlie’s arm was still around him as he reluctantly finished laying out their toilet articles. It gave him another hug and then they broke apart to wash and dress. When they were ready to go down to dinner, Charlie touched his hair caressingly and gave him a tender kiss on the mouth. “You’re looking absolutely sublime,” he said.