Kid Gloves (8 page)

Returning to his unit was going to be more difficult than anything else he had ever faced.

While Dalton opened up the shop downstairs, Finn went about carefully returning all of his things to his pack. He had not planned to leave this day in particular, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable. His hand was strong, his mind was clear, and his heart was full of memories of someone to take with him.

While lacing his boots and soft leather jacket, Finn tried to return his mind to that of a marksman, finding that it was not as difficult as he had anticipated. Before leaving the room, he cast his eyes around it once more, committing it to memory, and neatly folded the blankets back on the bed.

He shouldered his bow and his pack and made his way down the stairs.

“You’re leaving,” Dalton said, standing from his workbench when Finn walked into the shop. He reached out to Finn, who took his hand and brushed a kiss over the back of it.

“Yes,” he said simply, the word sounding rough and painful.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll write,” Finn said hopelessly.

Dalton nodded. “I will too.”

“Dalton,” Finn whispered. “I have six months left to serve, and then I’ll have completed my five years’ service. I can leave with a good salary and the opportunity to come back and train others instead of working on the front line.”

“I thought you wanted to stay, to work,” Dalton protested.

Finn shook his head. “I wanted to hide,” he said. “Now I have something worth coming back to.”

Laughing softly, Dalton reached out and cupped Finn’s cheek in his palm. “Okay,” he said simply and laid his lips one last time on Finn’s. “I’ll still be here,” he promised. “I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll come back. I’ll come home.”

Affection flowed more freely between them now, and they kissed slowly, easily, reverently, hands quietly mapping each other’s bodies, memorizing.

“I want to give you something,” Dalton said. “To take with you, to remember me by.”

Finn nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Close your eyes.”

With his world cloaked in darkness, Finn was more aware of his surroundings, the heady beat of his heart, the absolute sorrow that threatened to spill over.

Dalton’s hands came to rest on his cheeks, gently cradling his face. Then in a second, soft lips grazed over his own, once, twice, and then hovered there in the sweetest of kisses. He responded after a moment, kissing back, catching Dalton’s lower lip between his own, sharing the taste of each other back and forth.

Because he was shorter, Dalton had to lean up into the kiss, and it was instinctive, now, for Finn to hold him around the waist to keep him steady; that too brought them closer together. When Dalton pulled away, Finn had to fight the little sound of distress in his throat and turned quickly, placing another kiss to the palm of Dalton’s hand.

“Take that,” Dalton said, his own voice rough, “and remember me, and come back safely.”

“I will. I promise.”

Finn slipped out of his lover’s embrace and through the door, not trusting himself to look back. In a moment, he was gone.

D
ALTON
,

I am writing to tell you I have arrived back at the camp safely. The journey here was blissfully uneventful, if a little slow. I have already met with Tennessee (who has asked me to pass on his regards) and he is very pleased with the progress I have made.

I miss you, Dalton. There—I said it. I wasn’t sure if I could. But I do—miss you, that is—it feels strange that after such short a time it became so normal to be around you. I hope you’re well. I’ll send more news when I can.

Yours,

Finn

F
INN
,

I’m glad you made it there safely. I’ll admit I was nervous, waiting for your letter so I knew for sure. It’s a terrible thought, but I knew that if anything happened to you on the journey no one would think of contacting me. Well, maybe they would, after a time, maybe to return the hand to me. Or maybe not.

Business has been slow these past few weeks, I’ve had plenty of time to replenish my stocks. It’s probably because I’ve been opening odd hours, although that’s not exactly anything new.

I miss you too, sweet boy. Look after yourself.

Dalton

D
ALTON
,

I only received your letter last night. Tennessee delivered it to me. I think he knows, or at least suspects, that there’s something more to our relationship. I told him we’d grown close while you were helping me learn how to use the new hand and he accepted this. But you know Tennessee—he’s not one to hold back his opinions.

Things picked up suddenly here last week and I was sent out on my own for the first time since returning to the camp. It was nice to be back out doing what I do best—living alone, under canvas hunting and living for myself. It was a reconnaissance mission, that’s all I dare say in a letter, and I was successful. That means I don’t have to do the next one, which gives me time to write.

There was something I never asked while in London—why is it that you go by one name only? If you’d prefer not to answer I don’t mind. I send these letters addressed to one name only and they always seem to find you.

Hoping you’re well (and that my paper was longer so I might write more),

Finn

M
Y
F
INN
,

Congratulations on your mission. How is your hand?

I suppose the story isn’t as interesting as one might think. I don’t know my given name. When living with my mother she would call me “kid”—an affectionate term, I assure you—and after a time I must have forgotten the name I was christened with.

A few years ago I looked up the registry for names and found my family. From what I could guess my name was either John or Edward, but knowing for sure would mean contacting people I haven’t spoken to in many years, and I’m reluctant to do that. I am used to answering to Dalton now.

Please find enclosed in this parcel all the paper I could buy at Spitalfields. Oh, so it’s not
all
the paper—I exaggerate. But you are out of excuses for not sending me long letters.

Sometimes I wake in the night and roll over, looking for the warmth of your body. It feels cold here without you, even though it’s warmer outside. I hope you’re not cold, sleeping with only canvas for cover.

Yours,

Dalton

D
ALTON
,

I apologize, again and again, for the lateness of my reply. I was sent out again, for two weeks this time, and your letter was waiting for me when I returned. Tennessee said that it had been waiting for me for days already so I imagine you have been waiting for my reply for some time.

Tennessee knows of our relationship now—knows what you are to me, and I to you. I didn’t tell him, he approached me and guessed. I so rarely receive letters, and for me to suddenly have so many, and all from the same man, I suppose it wasn’t difficult for him to make the connection. I hope you don’t mind. He’s being rather sweet about it all—instead of passing me your letters out when the other men are around he gives them to me quietly, so I may read them in peace, without them knowing and asking me questions.

I should thank you for the paper, it is certainly better than what I can get here! All I have to wish for now is more time to sit down and write, and maybe someone to tell me the right words.

When I am out I carry your letters with me, did I tell you that already? There’s a small pocket inside my shirt that I can tuck them into to keep them safe. I wouldn’t dare to leave them in my pack in case they were lost, or stolen. I read your words most nights. It feels like I’m so very far away.

Hoping that you are well,

Your Finn

M
Y
F
INN
,

I was worried for you! I had thought that maybe you were in an area where my letters could not be delivered, and I wondered how long it would be before I could read your words again. The postman does not often have cause to stop by my door and I guess that he, like our friend Tennessee, has guessed that I am receiving letters from someone special.

Please do not be concerned about Tennessee knowing about the nature of our relationship. He has a rather varied taste in partners himself, and outside of a military setting is not shy of this fact at all. I first met the man in a tavern in London, many years ago, and we became firm friends. I hope that he will look after you, knowing that you are mine.

I hope that if there is anything else you need you will ask me for it, to be able to send you simple things like paper pleases me, especially when it is returned bearing your letters! I have heard that this great heat that has enveloped London has spread over much of Europe, I wonder if it has reached you, too. I fear that your hand was not built for great extremities of warmth and cold and it may fail to function as I had intended. Do tell me, how is it feeling?

It is comforting to think that my words are being kept so close to your skin, to your heart. Yours are kept tucked under my pillow.

Dalton

D
ALTON
,

Sometimes it feels like these months apart are passing so quickly, we have already achieved so much here on the ground and we are preparing to move on once again tonight. The only time I feel like time is standing still is when I have time to close my eyes and think of you, sweet memories of that time we spent together. For some reason I cannot quite fathom that feels like so very long ago.

Our commander is, as always, keeping plans of our movements close to his chest but he has given the impression we are moving further up the border, a journey that would take several days. I only say this so you do not worry for any delay in the delivery in your letter to me, or my reply.

My hand is working perfectly; it is certainly warmer here than it is in London but I am used to it, and my new hand has adapted admirably.

I have notified the commander of my intention to leave the company once my term has been completed. He was a little surprised; in the last meeting we had after I had injured my hand I had stated quite surely that I intended to return to full service as soon as I could. Nevertheless, he is supportive of my decision and has referred me for several other positions that are based in London. One of them is for the Queen’s guard!

Tell me about the shop, Dalton? Tell me about London, or something of home?

Tell me what I might have waiting for me when I return?

Your Finn

D
ARLING
F
INN
,

I am not surprised to hear that you have been referred for such a prestigious position—you are, without a doubt, exceptionally skilled. There is a third role for you to consider, though. It is not for any Queen, but a lowly merchant who makes replacement limbs. You see, this merchant has cause to expand his business into that of rehabilitation, an area where he sorely lacks experience.

There is a place for you here, Finn, as my partner, if you want it.

London is sweating under an increasingly warm summer and I cannot say that it is a pleasant experience. News of my business seems to be spreading over the country—I today received a lady from Scotland who had made several days’ travel to come and see me for an arm, not unlike your own. This lady requires a replacement almost to her shoulder, though, after hers was lost in an accident. I have not asked how. It seemed impertinent.

I have had cause to return to the doctor who first recommended my corsetiere. The pain in my back has increased in recent months, the result, the doctor has assured me, of a lack of movement. I am to leave the shop more often, to take longer walks around our fine city. I was forced to admit that I leave the shop so rarely now, having employed a young boy to collect the money owed to me by various people.

Tonight come nightfall I intend to take a lap around Victoria Park. I hope it might lift my spirits as well as alleviate some of the pain.

I wonder if when I look up at the moon tonight you will be looking in the same direction? If both our gazes will be trained to the same place at the same time, almost as if we were looking towards each other. Maybe I will imagine that you are looking up at the same time as I, and maybe that will ease some of the pain in my heart.

Always, your Dalton.

D
ALTON
,

I train my eyes to the moon every night. Even when it is cloudy and overcast or raining I look in that direction, hoping you might see me reflected in the cool light. My heart hurts for you, too.

I hope that your back is recovering—the doctor is right, you should take plenty of exercise. It is good for the soul, as well as our earthly bodies. That’s what Tennessee tells us, anyway.

Tennessee offered me an examination, to see if my body had been injured by yours. I told him that we are not intimate in that way. He seemed a little surprised at first, then nodded as if it made sense. Have you had relations with him before, Dalton? I won’t be upset if you have, I am merely curious.