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Ben scrubbed a hand over his face and slowly blinked awake. The pale winter sun filtered through the shutters, casting slats of light onto the rough white walls. He pulled the blanket up over his chin to ward off the chill in the air, snuggling closer to the warm body beside him. Jonah sighed softly and nestled against Ben, but didn’t wake.
Ben had always loved watching Jonah sleep. It was a gift, being able to gaze at him as long and lovingly as he liked, without the worry someone else might see. Jonah’s features softened in sleep, but his face still held that bright joy he radiated while awake, his mischievous mouth curling up into the hint of a smile. It usually made Ben feel that all was right with the world, to see Jonah safe and asleep beside him. But now it only served as a reminder of all he had to lose.
“Jay. My Jay,” Ben whispered. “Isn’t this enough?”
He reached out a hand to gently brush away the dark lock of tousled hair that had fallen down over Jonah’s eyes. Jonah stirred and let out a small, protesting groan. As he woke to see Ben gazing down at him, Jonah’s eyes sparkled, beckoning as the sea glinting with sunshine. “Mmmm. It’s freezing,” he mumbled with a shiver. “Come and warm me up!” He pulled Ben down on top of him and nuzzled his cold nose against Ben’s neck.
“You’re an incorrigible heat thief,” Ben chided, wrapping his arms around Jonah’s strong shoulders. Chilly feet snaked up and curled around Ben’s legs. He couldn’t help but smile as he felt Jonah’s laughing breath against his skin. Jonah’s joy always had been contagious. Ben let himself sink into it now and forget everything else.
“I’ll warm you up too, Ben, just you wait,” Jonah whispered, a playful grin sweeping across his lips.
Later, cheeks flushed with the sort of warmth no blanket could ever offer, Jonah fetched them both tea. They dressed and joined Dora, Bethany and Aggie, who were already busy in the kitchen.
It was Christmas Eve, and a gaggle of excited preparations had been going on for weeks. A festive wreath of holly and ivy hung on the Green Man’s front door, boughs of evergreen adorned the mantle in the parlour, and the kitchen was full of delicious smells.
Aggie had been bursting with excitement for weeks, eyes wide and cheeks pink with pleasure. Bethany, usually so quick to say she was too grown up for childish pursuits, had been eager to help her younger sister make decorations. Even Dora was full of holiday cheer. She’d been in good spirits ever since a visit to her mother a month before. Fences had been mended, and a weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders. And Jonah had taken to Christmas preparations like a duck to water, positively revelling in the bustle of activity and merriment.
Ben had spent last Christmas in gaol, empty and broken, abandoned of all hope. Now, a year later, he stood surrounded by all this jovial warmth, with Jonah beside him. It was nothing short of a miracle. He and Jonah had found their way back to one another. They had found somewhere they belonged, with people who had welcomed them into their lives. They had found a real home again.
It should have been a perfect Christmas. It was a perfect Christmas, but for the fact that Ben could feel all of it slipping through his fingers. Because Jonah, his boundless, sky-eyed Jay, was keeping something from him.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly when it started. For a couple of months now, Jonah had been arriving home later than expected, or disappearing and giving vague answers about where he’d been. At first, Ben hadn’t thought much of it. Jonah was apt to be flighty in more ways than one, he was forever falling into conversation or getting swept up in goings on around the village and losing track of time. So Ben didn’t worry. He trusted Jonah, knew him inside and out now, the real Jay, so there was no longer anything for him to hide. It kept happening though, and the more Ben told himself it was nothing, the more the spectre of possibility grew, howling at the corners their happiness like an ill wind.
Then one afternoon a fortnight ago, Jonah had disappeared for a couple of hours. There had been a sort of nervous energy about him when he returned, practically buzzing with exhilaration. Ben asked jokingly what mischief he’d been up to, and a shadow of evasion had fallen across Jonah’s bright eyes. Just the briefest moment of hesitation, but it stopped Ben’s heart.
Then Jonah had laughed, saying he’d been busy in the village, and he’d glanced around the empty inn before pulling Ben into a covert kiss. But the kiss hadn’t been the only secret on Jonah’s lips, Ben was sure of it. A shard of fear had wedged itself inside his chest, and had been burrowing deeper ever since.
Ben should have confronted him then, should have asked Jonah outright what he’d been doing and where he’d been. But he desperately wanted, needed, to trust Jonah. And the thought of the hurt that would fill Jonah’s eyes if he had to ask, had to admit he didn’t trust him, was enough to make the question stick in his throat.
The life they had built together here seemed so solid, so real. But what if he had only been fooling himself? What if it was just another castle in the air? If Jonah took one wrong step their world could come crumbling down again. And this time there would be no picking up the pieces.
The truth was Ben didn’t want to know. He wanted to believe in Jonah, despite the evidence, like a child clinging to the fading belief in Father Christmas. He wanted this magic to last as long as it could. And so he’d choked the question down just a little longer, just until after Christmas.
As night fell, a lively group of Christmas Eve carolers stood outside the Green Man’s door, with boisterous, if not quite melodic, renditions of Oh Come All Ye Faithful and Hark the Herald Angels Sing. The inn was the final stop on their tour, and their cheeks and noses were rosy in the cold night air.
Bill Penrose and his brother Harry were among them, as well as Aaron Tapley and his brothers. Florrie Tapley stood beside her sister, Adelaide Davies, who had retired from teaching and returned to Pellore a few months back. Ben had found Miss Davies a bit intimidating at first, with her stiff posture and serious countenance, but she was as quick as the rest of the village to fall under Jonah’s spell, and seemed to take his unusual abilities in stride. All in all they were a cheerful, festive group, and everyone at the Green Man was glad to welcome them.
The merry revelers moved inside and warm wassail was passed around, as they joked and laughed and swapped stories. Ben looked around at the friendly faces that had grown so familiar. His eyes came to rest on Jonah, always in the center of the group, so clearly belonging and beloved. Ben thought again how lucky they had been to find this little corner of the world.
As the night wore on, the carolers began to head back to their own cottages. Soon, the inn was empty, and they began the work of clearing up. When all was done to Dora’s satisfaction, they gathered together in the parlour to listen as Ben read A Christmas Carol.
Then Aggie was shooed off to bed, despite many protests, and they got to work decorating the tree. After what seemed like hours of careful consideration, Jonah and Aggie had chosen the perfect little Monterey Pine, and it now sat displayed upon a table. They carefully placed tapers among the branches, and then added pinecones, delicate paper fans, and colorful paper cones filled with treats. It really was a lovely sight.
Ben thought for a moment of his own childhood, the gleeful excitement of running down with his brother and sister to see the tree on Christmas morning, and the warm love in their parents’ eyes. He felt a pang of loss, for the family Christmas he would never again be a part of. But he had Dora and the girls now. He had Jonah. He had everything, and everything to lose.
That night he and Jonah lay in bed, wrapped in the quiet comfort of darkness. Ben wished that morning need never come, that he could just lie next to Jonah forever, with nothing to come between them. Jonah squirmed, tossing and turning, impatient as any child waiting for Christmas morning to arrive.
“C’mere Jay.” Ben reached an arm over and pulled him close, until Jonah’s back was pressed tight against Ben’s chest and he could feel Jonah’s breathing begin to slow. Jonah settled back against him, then threaded their fingers together. The closeness anchored Ben as much as it did Jonah, and he surrendered to sleep soon after, with their hands still intertwined.
Restless movement beside him in bed woke Ben early the next morning. He reluctantly opened his eyes, to see Jonah beaming down at him, his face full of eager delight.
“It’s Christmas morning, Ben.” Jonah leant over and brought his warm, persistent lips to Ben’s, kissing him to wakefulness. Ben breathed in his familiar scent, reaching his hands up to run his fingers through Jonah’s mussed hair.
“You’re as bad as Agnes,” Ben groaned. “It’s too early.”
“But it’s Christmas! Our first Christmas together and I want as much of it as I can get!” Jonah wriggled against him and then brought his face stubbornly closer and closer to Ben’s, until their foreheads were touching and Ben was staring right into those blue eyes twinkling with irresistible mirth. “C’mon, Ben, wake up!”
Ben hoisted himself up with a sigh and leant back against the bolster as Jonah bounced up to sit beside him.
“I have a surprise for you.” Jonah radiated manic anticipation, sitting like a jack-in-the-box poised to spring. His teeth tugged on the corner of his lower lip, as if trying to hold something in.
Ben felt his stomach drop. Christ, what had Jonah done? Had he stolen in order to give Ben some needless gift? Didn’t Jonah know he already had everything he’d ever wanted right here?
“Jonah—” Ben began, his voice rough with dread.
“You’ll like it,” Jonah cut in excitedly. “You’ll be surprised. I planned it Ben, even though you know I’m no good at planning. But I did it. For you. So you’d have a surprise for Christmas.”
The buoyant hope in Jonah’s eyes settled like a weight on Ben’s chest and he had to look away, crossing his arms and gripping his fingers tightly around them.
Jonah lit a candle beside the bed. Outside it was only just approaching dawn, the room still dim and shadowed. Jonah went to the wardrobe, then bent down to pull a small, cloth wrapped bundle out from underneath. He carried it over and stood beside the bed.
“It isn’t a present exactly. Just... well... a surprise.” Jonah looked up, eyes wide and pleading. “You won’t laugh, Ben. I know you won’t, but promise anyway, okay? Promise you won’t laugh?”
Laughing was the last thing in the world Ben felt like doing. Worry and confusion twisted his insides, a rack of apprehension. His mouth was dry and sour, but he forced the words out. “I won’t laugh, Jay.”
Jonah slipped the cloth off to reveal a somewhat tattered brown book. He held it gingerly, almost reverently. The cover was worn, but Ben could just make out the words Progressive Pictorial Primer. A school book? Jonah was forever asking Ben to read to him, and Ben was more than happy to oblige. But what on earth had Jonah been up to all these weeks? What made this book so special?
Ben started to reach out, expecting Jonah to hand the book to him, but instead Jonah opened the cover and carefully turned a few pages. He glanced up at Ben for a moment, as if looking for reassurance, then turned his eyes back to the page.
“I—go—up,” Jonah’s voice trembled as he drew the words out, slow and deliberate and occasionally stumbling. “Do—I—go—up? I—do—go—up. See—me—go—up.”
He stopped and looked at Ben, his eyes a question, and a second later Ben was off the bed, wrapping his arms around Jonah and lifting him off the ground with no need of magic.
“Oh Jay, you wonder! My brilliant Jay!”
Jonah’s laugh rang out, bright and happy as a bell, and Ben set him down and drew away a little to see Jonah’s face. He looked incandescent with pleasure and pride. Ben found himself almost speechless and precariously close to tears.
“How?” He finally managed to ask.
“Adelaide Davies has been teaching me. You remember I went over to mend a leak in her cottage a few days after she moved in? Well, she noticed me looking at her books. You wouldn’t believe all the books she has, shelves and shelves of them. She asked if I’d read any of them and I told her I couldn’t read, that I’d always been too stupid. She got this fierce look in her eyes, Ben, like facing down a dragon. I was a little afraid of her, to be honest.”
Jonah laughed as he sat down on the bed and Ben slid over to sit beside him.
“She said she’d taught scores of students and not one had ever left her class not knowing how to read, and that she’d wager I was just as smart as any of them. And she asked if I’d like her to teach me. I wasn’t sure, it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to learn before. Still, I figured it couldn’t hurt to try one last time. I’ve never stopped wishing I could read.”
The naked ache in his voice made Ben reach out to clasp Jonah’s hand. Jonah’s face clouded with worry and he looked beseechingly at Ben, as he squeezed his hand tighter.
“I didn’t know if it was wrong not to tell you. I wanted to, Ben, I was longing to, but I didn’t want to disappoint you if I couldn’t do it. I never want to disappoint you again. So I thought I’d just try first and see how it went. It was hard work, and some days I was so frustrated I wanted to throw all those books into the sea. But Miss Davies just kept right on telling me I could do it, until I began to believe her.
“The words still danced on the page, sometimes they would float up and almost drift away, and I could never seem to pin the letters down long enough to really get to know them. But little by little, I started to get a feel for them. Miss Davies would have me repeat their sounds over and over again and move my finger over the slate to make their shapes. Some days we’d go outside and I’d wind walk and draw the letters way up in the air. I’m sure it took me ages longer to learn than it does most people, but Miss Davies never told me I was stupid or slow.
“Once I knew all the letters, she started to show me how they fit together into words, and then I was reading, Ben, really reading. But by then it was almost Christmas, and I thought if I kept practicing I might be able to surprise you by reading a whole page. I’m still learning, of course, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to read like you can. But I never want you to stop reading to me anyway. I just wanted to know I could do it too, even a little, that I could read. And I wanted to make you proud of me.”
Ben wrapped his arm around Jonah and drew him close. “I’m proud of you every day Jay, all the time. But right now I’m so proud I think I could fly.”
Jonah gave one of his shy smiles, the sort that spread slowly across his lips and then lit his eyes like stars. The sort he only ever gave to Ben.
“Do you remember the first time you ever read to me?”
Ben did. It was right after they’d moved into the little cottage together. He’d come home from rugby to find Jonah standing next to the shelf where Ben had set the few books he owned. Jonah had turned away quickly, almost guiltily, as Ben came in, but not before Ben caught a look of such intense longing it took his breath away. Ben had known by then that Jonah couldn’t read, and had sensed that he carried the inability like a scar.
“If you pick one I’ll read it to you, if you like,” he’d offered, and Jonah had looked as though Ben had just offered him the moon. Jonah handed him Bleak House and Ben settled into the big chair to read, while Jonah sat on the floor below and nestled himself between Ben’s legs, head resting on Ben’s knee. Jonah sat mesmerized as Ben read, completely still and silent.
When Ben had finished reading, Jonah’s face had held a look of awestruck wonder. “Oh Ben, that was—magic!” He’d said, jumping up into Ben’s lap, surprisingly light.
Ben smiled now at the memory.
“No one had ever read to me before,” Jonah explained. “Not like that, anyway. I’d heard the minister read the Bible in church, but he made it so solemn, more a scolding than a story. You brought the story to life, made it leap right off the page. Words had always been this world I couldn’t touch. And then you held them out to me, like a gift. I just wanted to give you something too.”
“Jay, this is the best surprise anyone’s ever given me. But you never need to give me anything more than you.” Ben reached out and drew his fingers down along the side of Jonah’s face, tracing from his sleek cheekbones down to cup his stubborn, lightly stubbled chin. “All I want is to spend every Christmas with you. Always. That’s the only gift I’ll ever need.”
“Me too,” Jonah said, with a wide smile. “Though I can think of a few things you could give me tonight.”
“Happy Christmas, Jay.” Ben grinned and pulled him into a deep kiss.
“Happy—Christmas—Ben,” Jonah laughed, slipping the words between Ben’s insistent kisses.