Chapter 8

 

It wasn't easy telling Toby that they would have to move. He was already making friends at his kindergarten and at Ruth's Daycare. Though Jacob tried to break the news as gently as he could, Toby didn't like hearing about their move. One of his reasons was his friend in the garden.

"We can't leave her all alone," Toby said plaintively.

"I'm sorry. We have to."

He was a good, kind boy and Jacob was proud of him for that, but it was his job to protect him. He hoped Toby would get to like Lambton as well, plus living there, they would get to see Heather more often.

 

Heather had a one bedroom apartment. Toby got her bedroom while Jacob took the couch. It was doubtful he would be sleeping much anyway.

It was only their second night in the apartment, another sleepless one for Jacob. After Toby was in bed, Jacob busied himself trying to figure out what to do about the house in Blystone. That would be easier if only he could think straight, but thoughts of Ian intruded.

He was too real. Every memory shot through him with painful clarity. The way Ian gritted his teeth when he entered him came back to him as sharply as the way his insides gripped him. Jacob could feel his naked body and the pressure of his feet against his shoulders. He was filled with the sound of his moans and the way he yelled Jacob's name when he came.

Jacob had wanted to drink him in, never forget him. But he didn't mean to take things that far. He let himself lose control and now he was paying for it.

It was like he wanted to make his life more difficult. With everything he had on his mind, it was crazy to be obsessed with Ian. It seemed like the heart was never too busy for self-torture.

Outwardly, Jacob was calm. He had to be for Toby's sake. Leaving their new home was hard enough for both of them, but leaving Ian... Jacob couldn't dwell on that. Ian wasn't that far anyway. He might still see him. But right now Jacob wanted to be inside him, and anywhere else was too far.

Sinking into his hot, impossibly tight body obsessed him. But it was more than that. Ian didn't come back to him just as a body he had fucked. He could see his ironic, blue eyed gaze. How could that be the end when Ian's eyes told the story of their whole lives together?

Jacob stood up from the couch and paced. Going into the kitchen, he got a bottle of water. He wasn't thirsty. He just wanted to clear his mind of Ian. Toby was his number one priority and all he should be thinking about.

 

Toby had been in bed for hours now. Jacob was standing in the kitchen when he heard Toby's voice. He wasn't calling to him though. It sounded like he was speaking to someone. Jacob thought maybe he was just talking in his sleep. No, he hoped that he was.

Going down the hall toward the bedroom, Jacob heard his voice again and he moved faster. The bedroom door stood open. The light from the hallway cast a woman's shadow on the wall above Toby's bed.

Jacob rushed in and switched on the bedroom light. The room felt too cold. He looked around, but there was nothing there now. Sitting up in the big bed, Toby looked at him with surprise and blinked at the sudden brightness.

"Is it morning?" he asked, confused.

"No, not yet. Toby, who were you talking to?" Jacob asked though he was afraid he already knew the answer.

"The lady."

"The lady from the garden? She's here?" Sitting on the bed, Jacob looked at Toby closely. He seemed fine.

"She came to see me. She didn't want to stay there all alone," Toby said.

"You said her grandmother was there."

"She's sleeping."

Jacob kept staring around, but he didn't see or feel anything strange. The room temperature was already back to normal.

"OK. You should go back to sleep now."

Once again Jacob tucked him in, kissed the top of his head and watched him fall asleep. But this time he didn't dare leave him alone. He spent all night sitting up and watching over him.

 

*

 

Since Ian was a kid, Lorna's memorial had always been a fixture to him. He hardly glanced at it when he walked by. With everything that happened, he couldn't pass by the same way he used to. He stopped, stared at it, and wondered who had put it there.

The memorial had been there as long as he could remember, but it wasn't always standing up. It was some sort of metal stand shaped like a tripod that had shelves for holding flower pots and vases. Being a rickety, makeshift structure, it couldn't stand up to nature, not even with the spikes that held it in place. But whenever it fell over, it was always righted by some Good Samaritan.

Ian remembered that there used to be a weather-beaten plaque at the top that had Lorna's name scratched into it. It must have fallen off. Looking closer, Ian saw that only the plastic flowers were in decent shape. The flower pots had been taken over by weeds. A small bunch of wildflowers had dried in a plastic vase while other vases stood empty.

His mom used to leave flowers there. Right before she moved to Hershing, she left a white rose in a planter. The rose didn't survive though.

The wind picked up then stopped. Everything was very still. The complete silence made Ian feel as if he had gone deaf. A pot shattered suddenly and Ian jumped.

Staring at the pieces scattered in the yellow grass, he saw his breath fog up. The words "I'm so cold" were carried on a gust of wind. They sounded very close. The words might have formed in his own head.

Ian looked around. Was that her? Was that Lorna? Ian stepped closer to the memorial, but nothing else happened.

That memorial was a sad sight, but it had never been haunted before as far as he knew. He wondered if the status quo was disturbed when Jacob took Toby away. Lorna couldn't be happy about that. She might be wandering around, looking for him.

The day before, when Ian visited her grave, he hadn't noticed anything odd. Her grave was kept in a more orderly state than the memorial. The words "Beloved daughter, granddaughter and mother" were carved into white stone. Flowers weren't left to die there or vases to sit empty.

Now that he had taken a look at both places, Ian had the impression that Lorna's grave was simply a sad, quiet place. Lorna's presence was stronger on the side of the road, where she had been killed. It was nothing like what he felt at Jacob's though. When she appeared there, her presence had a crushing weight.

Ian was tempted to go back to Jacob's house and risk an encounter with her again. He still hoped he could find out why she was there and eventually make it safe for Jacob and Toby to come back.

Lorna wasn't his only reason for wanted to go trespassing on Jacob's property. If he went back there, his reason would be Jacob, what they did, and everything they didn't get to do. Lurking around Jacob's house wouldn't bring him back though. Ian just had to breathe through the pain he felt at every thought of him.

Moving on from that tragic spot on the side of the road, Ian continued on his way into town and tried not to think about Jacob. If only they hadn't fucked, Ian wouldn't miss him this hard. He would be tormented by what might have been, but not by this throbbing ache that was taking root inside him. Now he missed Jacob in a very real, physical way. He missed every hard inch of him.

A painful, desperate need awakened inside him the first time Jacob kissed him. The need was too strong. Stirring his cock like its plaything, it ripped open his heart, left him helpless. Their fuck only intensified his feelings. That man was now Ian's obsession and the center of his world. And he was gone.

Jacob didn't say he'd call him, never promised to keep in touch. Taking his lead, Ian didn't either. He didn't know how long he'd be able to stay firm and not call up Jacob just to see how he was doing. Maybe offer to drive over.

For now, he was too proud to chase a man who didn't give him even the smallest hint that he wanted to be chased. Ian had no idea how long that would last. Already, he pictured himself falling on his knees in front of Jacob, telling him to do anything he wanted to him. Was he seeing the future or just indulging a fantasy? He didn't know. Jacob was the first guy who had ever made him feel this crazy and desperate. He felt capable of anything heroic, filthy or depraved. Mainly he felt crushed.