Winter Oranges (40 page)

“Of course.”

Jason handed it to him and watched as Ben scooped up the first bit and slowly put it in his mouth. His eyes drifted shut as he savored it. “Mmmm.” He finally swallowed and smiled broadly at Jason. “It’s delicious! What flavor is it?”

“Orange.”

Ben’s smile turned into a comical frown. “It doesn’t taste like oranges at all.”

“That’s because they used summer oranges. They taste different than those winter kind.”

“Ha! Now who’s being a brat?”

Whether it tasted like oranges or not, Ben wasn’t dissuaded. He made quick work of the Jell-O, and Jason’s stomach began to growl too as he watched Ben eat. Maybe he was hungrier than he’d realized. “Are you going to share?”

Ben hugged the nearly empty Jell-O to his chest and shook his head. “No way.” He crooked his finger at Jason. “But you can still taste it if you like.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Ben’s lips were cool to the touch, his tongue sweet, and Jason pulled him close, wishing they were anywhere but in a hospital. Seeing how happy Ben was over a tiny cup of Jell-O, Jason was anxious to get him out into the real world.

“You know, I almost envy you. You get to experience everything brand new. Roller coasters and
Star Wars
and Las Vegas. Tiramisu and root beer floats and pepperoni pizza and—”

“And chocolate chip cookies? I’ve always wanted to try one.”

“God, yes. Chocolate chips cookies as soon as possible. Although the rest of the world is pretty much downhill from there.”

Ben laughed, then leaned forward to kiss him again. “Will you mind sharing your house with me, now that I actually take up space?”

“Not a bit. Honestly, I was a bit worried you wouldn’t want to stay.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It made sense to hang out with me when I was the only person who could see you. Now you’ll have a whole world full of men to choose from.”

“A world full of men who will all think I’ve lost my marbles if I so much as tell them my birthday.”

“Fair point.” He studied Ben’s face, his gaze lingering on his lips. The globe had granted them a certain amount of intimacy, but there was one thing Jason longed for, more than anything. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you in bed.”

Ben blushed, lowering his long lashes over his blue eyes. He set the Jell-O aside and wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Take me home?”

“Just as soon as I can.”

“I love October!”

“I remember you telling me it’s your favorite month.” And October in West Virginia was especially lovely, Jason had to admit. Still, he tried not to laugh. He kept his head down and his expression somber as they entered the cemetery in case somebody spotted him and snapped a picture. Photographers didn’t hound him as much these days. They seemed to find him far less interesting now that he’d quit hiding. Still, his privacy was never guaranteed, even though the cemetery was deserted, and he felt he shouldn’t be seen having too grand of a time in a place where people were buried.

Ben, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He practically skipped between the rows of stones, his face lit with a broad smile, his formerly white skin tanned to a pale bronze. “It’s so beautiful here!”

Jason looked around at the rolling expanse of grass. They were in one of the older sections of the graveyard. The markers had undoubtedly once stood in straight, even rows, but now they listed every which way, leaning together as if to share the latest bit of news. Some were small and simple, other large and ornate. Many were crumbling or chipped or showed signs of water damage. None were adorned with flowers. “It is strangely picturesque, isn’t it? It has atmosphere.”

“It’s absolutely perfect.”

Jason smiled. He’d learned over the last ten months that almost nothing could bring Ben down. Yes, he’d had trouble adjusting to the low rise of modern pants, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the dentist. And they’d had a few weeks’ worth of worry before the trip to Mexico, thinking they’d be unable to get Ben a passport, but Dylan had come through for them. He’d turned up with a packet full of counterfeit papers. Jason didn’t know where they’d come from, and he didn’t care. All he knew was that he was happier than he’d ever been, and if he had Dylan to thank for that, then so be it.

“After this, can we go to that apple orchard we passed on the road back there?” Ben asked. “I’d really love to pick some apples.”

“Apples next, I promise. You can pick a whole bushel if you want.”

It certainly was a perfect day for it, warm and pleasant, and everywhere they looked, the trees were bursting with orange and gold. Filming in Mexico had lasted until July. They’d gone home to Idaho for a bit, but Ben was restless, ready to see more of the world—not that Jason could blame him—so they’d bought a convertible and hit the road, their only plan being to travel until November, when Jason had to report to LA for a small supporting role in a romantic comedy Natalie had found for him. They’d driven down the Pacific coast, cut over to Vegas, made the long haul across southern Utah and spent several weeks exploring the Rockies before turning south. They’d been at Café Du Monde in New Orleans eating beignets and sipping cafés au lait when Linda Casteel called.

“I found Sarah,” she’d said. “She’s buried in West Virginia.”

In truth, Jason had all but forgotten that Linda was still trying to chase down his and Ben’s shared lineage. He listened with only half an ear as she explained how she’d traced one of Jason’s great-great-great-grandmothers on his father’s side back to a Sarah Miller who had died in Huntington, West Virginia in 1899. It hadn’t taken her long to find the marriage records and determine that Sarah Miller was indeed Ben’s sister, Sarah Elizabeth Ward. And now here they were, on their way to her grave.

“It should be this row.” Jason turned and pointed to the right. “About twenty stones down.”

He’d just reached the third grave when he heard a dull
thunk
behind him, followed by a muffled “Ouch.” He turned to find Ben leaning on an elaborate marker, rubbing his knee.

“Did you just run over an angel?”

Ben still sometimes forgot he couldn’t walk through everything in sight, and he occasionally became so enamored of their surroundings that he forgot to look where he was going. He’d nearly knocked himself unconscious running into signs and trees on more than one occasion, but he handled his new clumsiness with the same good grace he handled everything else. He grinned at Jason. “At least she was only knee height. It could have been a lot worse.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Come on. We’re almost there. Linda said the person she spoke to told her the headstone had an unusual inscription that we might want to see for ourselves.” He glanced over at Ben. “Aren’t you curious?”

“Not really. I am hungry though. I think I want barbecue.”

“You’re insatiable. It’s completely unfair that you’re still as thin as you are.”

“I’ve gained ten pounds since I came out of the globe!”

“Yeah, and so have I. It’d be twice that much if I hadn’t started jogging every day.”

“It’s really more like every third day.”

“Close enough. Anyway, I thought you wanted apples. Why the sudden urge for barbecue?”

“Dylan told me about this place in Charleston. He says we can’t leave the state until we’ve eaten there.”

Jason shook his head as he scanned the stones for Sarah’s name. It seemed Ben talked to Dylan more than Jason did these days, but Jason didn’t mind. Somehow they’d become fast friends during their stay in Mexico, and Dylan seemed to live for the chance to introduce Ben to new foods. “He does have a knack for knowing the best places to eat.”

“Maybe barbecue first, and then apples for dessert?”

“Whatever you want to do. You know I can’t ever say no to you.” He put out a hand to stop Ben before he ran into another stone. “Here it is.”

It was a double headstone marking two side by side graves, with the last name Miller engraved across the top. Her husband, Franklin Jonathan Miller, was on the left. And on the right . . .

“Oh my God,” Ben breathed. “I don’t believe it.”

The headstone read:

Sarah Elizabeth Ward Miller

September 9, 1837 – March 3, 1899

And below that, three simple words:

BREAK THE GLOBE

“She left instructions here too,” Jason said.

“And she even spelled it right.”

Ben had explained multiple times how he’d grieved for his family long ago. He didn’t want to look back. And yet now, he grew somber. Jason put his arm around Ben’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Are you okay?”

“I am. It’s just . . . all this time, I’ve wondered if I’d still be in there. I’ve wondered, if it hadn’t been for Dylan, if I would have been in that globe forever. But now I know.” He smiled hesitantly at Jason. “I would have been free today.” He glanced around at the autumn glory surrounding them. “It would have been here.”

“Yes,” Jason conceded. “But you weren’t breathing when you came out, and I wouldn’t have had the paramedics here to save you.” His heart clenched at the thought. “I might have lost you, and I never would have forgiven myself.”

“All thanks to Dylan.” Ben leaned his head against Jason’s shoulder. “Let’s not tell him though. I like it better, having him feel a bit guilty.”

Jason laughed. “Me too. Penitence suits him.”

They stood there for a bit, contemplating Sarah’s grave, but Jason could feel Ben’s restlessness returning. He sensed Ben’s attention shifting away, toward the horizon. After being confined for a century and a half, sometimes it was all he could do to hold still for five minutes.

“Well, which will it be?” Ben said at last. “Barbecue or apples?”

“How about cherries?”

“Cherries?”

“If you don’t like those, I have orange, pineapple, peppermint—”

“I see.” Ben laughed, turning to face him, lacing his arms around Jason’s neck, his soft lips curving into a flirtatious grin. “Is that a roll of Life Savers in your pocket or are you—”

“Yes. On both counts. And I have about three more rolls of them in my bag.”

“I love the way you think.”

And there in the cemetery, only a few feet from his sister’s grave, in the bright, dancing light of a perfect October day, Ben pulled him into an eager kiss, and Jason kissed him back. He didn’t care if there was a photographer present. He didn’t care what any tabloid had to say. Let a thousand lunatic fans tweet about it over dinner. It didn’t matter one bit. He held Ben close, kissing him deeply, silently thanking Dylan and the sheriff and the universe at large for granting him this moment, and each moment since Christmas, and every moment left to come. Days strolling hand in hand in some as-yet undiscovered city, or driving down country roads with the wind in their hair. Nights by riverbanks, trying to count the stars, or alone in their room, worshipping each other in their own perfect way. And best of all, morning after morning after morning of waking to Ben’s gorgeous smile. Every minute was a gift, and Jason opened each one with a thankfulness that bordered on reverence.

No more shadows. No more doubt. After so many years alone—

“Oranges,” Ben said as he pulled Jason toward the car. “I think we should start with oranges.”

It was good to live in the light.