Waking the Dead (2 page)
“Do you ever miss it? The traveling, I mean?” John asked, gesturing out at the runways. “I know it wasn’t as exciting as it sounds, but you got to see places I never will.”
“Miss it?” Nick shook his head. “No, not really.” Of course, there were reasons beyond the obvious -- being able to settle somewhere so remote had meant a dramatic drop in the number of ghosts he encountered, to the point where it wasn’t uncommon now for him to go months between sightings. That alone would have been worth the loss of the nomadic existence he’d lived for so long. “I guess there was a certain freedom to not having to worry about things like household repairs or how to work a vacuum cleaner, but there were a lot of negatives that came along with it.”
“I wouldn’t like to feel I had nowhere to call home,” John said. He screwed up his face in thought, the laugh lines at the corner of his blue eyes deepening. “For all that there’ve been times I’ve wanted to leave the island so badly I could taste it.” He gave Nick a rueful smile. “That trip we took to
Nick pressed his thigh to John’s. Then, feeling like that wasn’t enough contact, he put a hand on John’s knee. He’d be the first to admit that the long, cold winters were the worst thing about living on Traighshee, and the idea of abandoning Rossneath, the house he’d inherited from his uncle, in the middle of January in favor of some place tropical was appealing even now. “We should. And we should look into it soon, book a flight, or before we know it, spring will be right around the corner and we’ll decide to wait another year. Where should we go? The
John put his hand on Nick’s, and their fingers interlocked with a comforting familiarity. John’s hands were always warm and slightly roughened from seawater and work. Nick thought of them moving on his body that morning, unhurried and gentle, when they’d woken early and decided to take advantage of the last time they’d be alone for a while, and smiled. John caught the change in Nick’s mood and returned his smile with one of his own, slow and sexy.
“Anywhere hot enough for you to spend most of the time half naked would suit me. Come winter, you bundle yourself up in so many layers, by spring I’ve forgotten what you look like under the clothes.”
“I’ve never really adjusted to the winters here -- I guess being able to tolerate them without too much complaining isn’t genetic.” Slowly, Nick turned their hands, leaving John’s palm up on his thigh. He traced over the lines with one finger and watched John’s fingers twitch. “Do you think I’m on there somewhere? I don’t even know which one’s your love line. Or mine.” He looked at his own palm curiously.
“Some psychic you are,” John told him. “Ask old Esme next time you see her in town; she swears she can tell the future in your hand or the tea leaves. Not that many people use them these days; it’s all the wee bags with those strings on for dunking them.” He shook his head. “I can still remember my mother skelping me for spitting out the tea leaves stuck in my teeth at the dinner table.”
Nick chuckled. He couldn’t really imagine Anne hitting John hard, but he could certainly see her administering a swift smack or two.
“You can laugh,” John said. “I missed dessert and it was ice cream, which we didn’t get that often back then.” He closed his hand, capturing Nick’s finger. “But I don’t need Esme to tell me you’re part of my future.”
It was always hard for Nick to respond to things like that with anything even close to the gratitude he felt -- there were still times he looked at John and found himself filled with a sense of wonder and disbelief that he could have been so lucky. John accepted him completely, knew as much about him as anyone living, and loved him despite the challenges that came with being part of his life.
“I’d promise I’ll never refuse to give you ice cream, but I know you’d suspect that it’s just because I like it so much myself.” He glanced up at the screen and saw Josh’s flight number blinking. “Oh, that’s him!”
“He’s early,” John commented. “They’ll probably make up for it by losing his suitcase, mind.”
“If they do, I’ll tell him you jinxed him.” Nick said.
John grinned. “He’ll know you’re lying.” His smile faded. “Does he still --?”
“Yes.” Nick knew John felt uncomfortable about Josh’s ability in ways he didn’t about Nick’s, maybe just because he didn’t know Josh all that well. Lowering his voice, even though the people around them probably weren’t paying any attention, he added, “He can even read me over the phone. It’s weird -- I don’t know why I would have guessed that wouldn’t work, but it does.”
Horrified fascination passed over John’s face. “That’s…well, that’s…” He cleared his throat. “Maybe it’s because you’re related and you’re psychic, too? Or can he do it with everyone?” John stared out of the window at what probably wasn’t even Josh’s plane. “God, do you think he’s doing it now?”
“He has said there are some people he really can’t read at all. He’s not sure why.” Nick shrugged. “He’s only eighteen; it could be another twenty years before he really has a handle on what he can do. And no, I don’t think he’s doing it now. If he couldn’t block people out when he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to hear himself think. Literally.”
They wandered toward the gate even though it’d probably be at least fifteen minutes before there was any sign of the passengers disembarking.
John walked beside him in silence for a while, and then ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He’d just had it cut and there was a line of paler skin showing at the nape and some gray showing among the brown, but that went for Nick’s own darker hair, too.
“It can’t be easy for the lad,” John said. “It’s more of a curse than a blessing, I’m thinking, even more than what you can do.”
Reaching the gate, they moved over to stand along the wall where they wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. There were a number of other people waiting, but somehow Nick didn’t feel as crowded as he had before. “There are fewer chances for him to feel like he helped someone, anyway. But not none. There was that time he overheard that kid thinking about suicide, remember?”
It had been a year ago at least; Josh had listened to a distraught classmate’s thoughts and gone immediately to the school counselor, not explaining how he knew but urgently expressing his concern. The other boy had been called to the office and admitted to his feelings, then had gone into therapy. He was still alive, and happier. Despite the anxiety Josh had experienced during the incident, he’d been glad to be able to help someone who likely wouldn’t have gotten help any other way.
John leaned against the wall, his arm touching Nick’s. Across from them, a young man had dropped his baggage and was locked in the enthusiastic embrace of his boyfriend who’d been waiting for him impatiently, pacing restlessly around. No one seemed to care, not these days, although Nick was sure there were still a few people in the crowd who disapproved. He and John -- well, more John -- were too used to being discreet in public to change their ways, but he thought that anyone looking at them would know that they were a couple even if they weren’t walking off, like the younger couple, arms around each other and still exchanging kisses every few yards.
“I remember,” John said. “That was a brave thing he did. It’s just… I can’t feel easy about the idea of having someone inside my head, somehow, not even when it’s young Josh. And I’d hate for the boy to pick up on that because I
like
him, so I do. He’s a fine lad, and he’s family. I just --” He elbowed Nick in the side. “There he is, and he’s grown, by the looks of him.”
“Josh!” Nick raised a hand in greeting before he’d even really seen him, and then his eyes focused on Josh, who was well over a foot taller than he’d been the last time they’d seen him in person and considerably broader of shoulder than Nick had anticipated.
Dropping the bag he was holding, Josh came up, looked at Nick with a huge grin on his face for about four seconds, then threw both arms around him and hugged him. “Hi,” Josh said in his ear.
“Hi,” Nick said, a little overwhelmed by this show of affection. He patted Josh’s very solid shoulder -- no wonder the boy had played football -- and Josh pulled back, still grinning. “How was your flight?”
“Long,” Josh said. “And not full of sleep. I don’t understand how anyone can sleep on a plane.”
“I can sleep on a boat, but never a plane,” John said. “Welcome back to
Fàilte
,” and then added,
“Ciamar a tha thu?”
Nick had picked up a fair amount of Gaelic in his time on the island, but even if he hadn’t, the phrase for asking how someone was, was something he heard every time he walked into a shop. He didn’t expect Josh to know it, though, so he was surprised when Josh turned toward John, stared at him for a moment, his green eyes shadowed with tiredness but bright with excitement, and then grinned and said, “I’m fine, thanks, John. How are you?”
“It’s good to see you,” John said. He extended his hand, and when Josh took it, pulled him in for a brief but comprehensive hug. “And I’m well, unlike your brother, here, who spent the ferry journey hanging over the side, as green as the sea.”
“Still? I’d have thought you’d gotten over that by now.” Josh barely managed to cover his mouth before he yawned and gave them a sheepish look. “Sorry. I think the lack of sleep’s catching up on me. Just point me to the nearest Starbucks and I’ll refuel.”
“No Starbucks at the airport,” Nick told him. “But we can get you a coffee here, as long as you don’t mind that it won’t have a fancy name. Or whipped cream on top.”
“Are you kidding? That stuff’ll clog your arteries.” Josh’s expression made it hard to tell if he was joking or not. “Yeah, that’s fine.” He looked around, confused.
“Over there,” John said. “Caffè Nero. We were just there while we waited for you.” He shook his head. “And I asked for a cup of tea, and all they had were herbal ones. Chai with cinnamon? What in the name of God would I be wanting to drink that for?”
Nick picked up the carry-on bag but let Josh deal with wheeling his suitcase, and they headed for the coffee shop. “So was the drive okay?” Josh asked. “Other than the ferry part.”
Nick nodded. “Not bad. We made good time. How’s your mom?” He had a hard time categorizing his relationship with Josh’s mother, Stacy. They were fairly close in age, but she was the mother of his half brother, who was young enough to be his son… It was all kind of confusing. The fact that he genuinely liked her, and that she had encouraged him and Josh to get to know each other helped, but it didn’t solve the basic problem.
“She’s good,” Josh said as they got in line. “A little freaked out about letting me out of the country, but I figure that’s a typical mom thing. She knows you two aren’t going to let me get into any trouble, though, so I don’t know what she thought I was going to get up to on the plane. I mean, it’s a pretty limited environment.”
“Trouble?” John said, as if the word were new to him. “What trouble could you get into with us?” Nick snorted, but John continued serenely, “No, she’s right to trust us to take care of you, and I’m sure you stuck to fizzy pop on the plane, isn’t that right?”
“I’m too young to drink,” Josh said, looking a little panicked and maybe a little bit guilty. Nick guessed he’d had one of the small bottles of wine that came with the meal, but no more than that. Stacy wasn’t the sort of mother who’d tolerate underage drinking.
“Not here, you’re not,” John pointed out. He grimaced. “Most of the kids on the island do, but don’t try to keep up with them; they’ve had more practice than you.”
“Lots of people have,” Josh assured them, then stepped forward to the counter, and ordered his coffee. As the girl went off to make his drink, he turned and leaned against the counter. “Don’t worry -- I’m seriously not interested in experimenting with…you know, liquor or whatever else might be available. I’m careful about stuff like that.”
He would be, Nick realized. If the way drunk people behaved was any indication of their mental processes, listening to their thoughts must be an interesting enough experience without considering giving it a try yourself. “Well, we’ll try to keep you busy while you’re here.”
“I’d love it if we could go fishing again,” Josh said to John. “That was one of the things I remember most from when I was here before.”
John beamed, which meant that it was Nick’s turn to look guilty. Nick had tried to work up some enthusiasm for fishing, but without success. He was happy to cook anything John brought home and was equally happy to eat it, but the process of catching it was, in his opinion, boring, messy, and usually involved more cold seawater than he liked. John’s pleasure at the idea of a companion was evident.
“Aye, that we can. I’ve a new boat now, bigger than the old one. I take tourists out on it sometimes to go deep-sea fishing. And there’s this loch I know; we could camp out there overnight and get our lines out at dawn, when the trout are just rising. I’ll show you how to tie your own flies, too.” He patted Josh’s shoulder. “We’ll make a fisherman out of you by the time you go home. Remember that shoal of mackerel we came across when you were last here? On the other side of the island in the bay?”
“Creeth?” Josh asked.
John smiled. “Aye, Creeth, that’s the one. The boat was so full of fish I couldn’t see your knees.”
Josh turned and accepted his coffee, thanking the girl with a smile that made her blink and flush, fluttering her eyelashes. The boy seemed completely unaware of the effect he’d had on her, continuing on with the conversation as they moved away from the counter and let other customers order their drinks. “I want to learn everything. You can show me how to clean the fish, right? And cook them?”
“Of course,” Nick said. “The kitchen part of it’s more my thing than John’s.” He was no expert -- and had a couple of years-old scars on his hands from knife mishaps to prove it -- but he could clean a fish without too much effort these days, and fry it up, too. He’d even come to terms with a fish stew recipe.