Semper Fi (16 page)

“Off and on!”

At Captain Brown’s barked order, Jim stifled a sigh and got off his rear end and onto his feet along with the rest of the platoon. They marched along the dusty road, finally reaching their destination an hour later.

Open, barge-like boats waited for them in a river that would take them to the ocean. After they clambered down, more than thirty men crammed onto each boat by Jim’s estimation. Then the battalion commander shouted for attention.

“You are sitting in Higgins boats. These are going to win this war, gentlemen. You will also hear them referred to as LCVPs. Landing craft, vehicle, and personnel. Being a shallow boat, you can see it is a landing craft. It’s built to carry a jeep if necessary. That’s the vehicle. And obviously you men are the personnel. When this LCVP lands, the ramp at the front will lower, and you will move your asses. Understood? Good. Now try to make it through this exercise without puking your guts out.”

Cal and Jim shared a glance. It was going to be a long ride.

Indeed, they hadn’t reached the ocean before poor Sully was heaving into his helmet. Others followed suit, and Jim felt decidedly queasy as they reached the swells of open sea water. Cal, on the other hand, was just fine. “Doesn’t it bother you?” Jim asked.

“Nah. Spent my summers sailing in the Hamptons.”

“Of course you did.” Jim smiled even as he fought a swell of nausea.

Suddenly the engine roared and the boat powered toward the beach. There was a sharp jolt as they landed, digging into the sand.

“Move, move, move!”

They plunged into the freezing surf swirling around their calves, rifles held high. On the beach they hit the deck, going through the motions of an offensive. Sand stuck in every pore, gritty on Jim’s tongue and lips. When he rubbed his eyes, they burned from the saltwater residue.

When they had run through the whole routine, Captain Brown approached. “Very good, men. We’re staying out here in the boondocks so we can practice these amphibious maneuvers. Smooth and efficient landings are absolutely vital to our success in the Pacific. Our camp is a mile down the coast. Let’s get moving!”

“Something tells me our hut back at the base’ll seem like the Ritz-Carlton in comparison,” Cal muttered.

The tents they had to set up in a clearing in the forest weren’t any better or worse than what they’d slept in at the rifle range on Parris Island. As they sat around a bonfire that night, men from several squads talking and laughing, Jim breathed in the scent of pine amid the smoky wood and felt utterly content.

Cal passed him the bottle of hooch going around the circle, and Jim cringed as the liquid burned his throat. Cal laughed and patted his back. “There you go. It’ll put hair on your chest!”

Big Southern Joe, for all his crude bluster, had a shockingly fine singing voice, and he led them in a chorus of “Blueberry Hill.” Surrounded by new friends, they sang to the stars. Cal’s arm was a warm comfort across Jim’s shoulders, and the war had never felt so far away.

How strange.

Jim didn’t remember turning on the Rain Birds, yet as he walked down to the orchard, he could see them working, water glittering in the moonlight, arcing through the fresh, cool air.
Swish-swish-swish-swish.

Somehow he remained dry as he walked amid the trees, down one row and then another, leaving the house and barn behind. He was looking for something, yet he couldn’t seem to remember what it was. An owl hooted, and eyes glowed in the trees, the pheasants watching as he passed by.

Then as he came over a gentle rise, he found Cal.

His back turned, Cal was naked between the trees, skin glistening in the spray of water. Arms outstretched, his head was tipped back as if in some kind of ecstatic thrall. Lightheaded, Jim was rooted to the spot, even when Cal faced him.

Cal was hard, his thick cock jutting from his body. To his shame, Jim’s own shaft swelled, and he was reaching out, desperate to touch his friend. Cal was suddenly right before him, a familiar smile on his lips.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

When he wrapped his hand around Cal’s length, a ragged moan filled the air, and Jim realized it was his own. As he stroked Cal’s straining cock, he was overcome with the urge to kiss him and taste him—to run his tongue over Cal’s wet skin. Jim was still fully dressed and painfully hard in his trousers, and Cal was completely exposed before him, beautiful and free.

Jim lunged for Cal’s mouth, kissing him in a frenzy, his hand caught between their bodies, rubbing Cal and bringing him to the brink of—

Panting, Jim bolted up in bed.

The bedroom appeared as it always did. Nothing out of place. Jim listened intently for the children, but the night was still aside from his harsh breathing and the faint, soothing sound of the sprinklers in the orchard. It had been a surprisingly warm day, and he had left the window open. The curtain fluttered in the breeze.

Everything was normal. As normal as possible considering he was excited, and he’d been dreaming about…

With a long exhale, he stretched out again. It didn’t mean anything. It was only a dream. He’d been under a lot of stress, and dreams were nothing more than jumbled nonsense. Yet when Jim closed his eyes, he could see it all so clearly—Cal in the orchard, naked and glistening. Hard and eager.

Grunting, Jim attempted to clear his mind and ignore the state of his body, although his blood still thrummed with sticky desire. He breathed deeply, willing himself to calm down and go back to sleep. It had just been a silly dream, and he needed to forget it.

After another minute, he opened his eyes. When Reverend Davis had come to school and taken the boys into another classroom, he’d told them it was a sin to touch themselves. Jim had resisted as much as he could growing up. When he’d given in to the need for release, he’d kept his mind purposefully blank.

Now he did the same as one hand skimmed beneath his pajama top, fingertips skating across his skin as he freed his cock with his other hand, kicking his bottoms free. He should think of his wife, but it felt wrong now that she was gone, and the thought of her sent guilt and shame spiraling through him anew.

Here in the surreal calm of the dead of night, he could admit that sex with his wife had never been the revelation other men talked about. Jim had always felt that physical acts between men and women were highly overrated, and that his buddies who crowed about their conquests exaggerated the enjoyment they experienced.

Sex was just a biological imperative that was largely awkward and provided only fleeting moments of pleasure and release. He needed that release now, and should just let friction take its course.

Unbidden, images of Cal flashed through Jim’s mind, and his hips arched up as he spread his legs wider with his knees bent. He dug his heels into the mattress as he stroked himself faster, biting his lip. He told himself not to think of his friend— that it was sick and
wrong
. Kissing Cal had been a mistake and he was simply confused.

But now the vestiges of his dream clung stubbornly, so real in his mind. Cal’s strong, glistening body in the moonlight. The pressure of his lips on Jim’s, and his tongue in Jim’s mouth. It should have repelled him, but want and need urged him on as he jerked himself faster and harder, hips lifting, moans low in his throat. He imagined it was still Cal he touched—Cal’s thick heat against his palm.

Shaking, legs splayed, Jim came over his hand, splattering his pajama top. The intensity of the pleasure stunned him, leaving confusion and growing horror in its wake. As his seed dried, the disgrace settled in, and he crept to the bathroom to scrub himself clean.

Birds chirped overhead, soaring through the clear blue sky. On a ladder, Jim examined the flowering buds. Soon the orchard would be resplendent with white blooms. “The trees don’t seem any worse for wear after that snow last week.”

“That’s good.” Cal squatted at the base of the tree, yanking on the weeds already sprouting up.

“Yeah.”

Jim winced internally at their stilted conversation. Where in the past the words—and silences—had always come so easily, now everything was strained. Every time he looked at Cal, he felt a rush of heat, his skin prickling. It was madness. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d never felt such a keen desire for anyone, not even Ann.

Especially not Ann.

Banishing the thoughts with a mental shake, Jim climbed down and moved to the next tree, giving it a careful inspection. But again and again, his mind returned to Cal, like a magnet to steel.

He still couldn’t believe that Cal was…what he was. Jim didn’t even like to think the word. How was it possible? Cal had been his best friend for six years, and Jim hadn’t known. And now that he did know, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t stop…wanting. Wanting things that were against God and nature.

He’d even considered whether the sickness was contagious, but that seemed a ridiculous notion. No, surely with the stress of losing Ann and caring for the children, Jim was simply overwrought. Finding out that Cal was a homosexual had put notions in his head that his subconscious didn’t understand. Soon everything would be normal again.

But
I
kissed him first. And
I
liked it.

With a mutter, Jim pulled his knife from his belt. There was a stray branch they’d missed during pruning, and he hacked into the wood. It wavered, but didn’t fall. Gritting his teeth, Jim swung wildly at it, and the blade sliced into his left hand below his thumb. “Damn it!”

“What happened? You okay?”

Jim hopped down from the ladder, hissing as he yanked out the tail of his plaid shirt to wrap around the wound. “It’s fine.”

Cal came closer. “Here, let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he repeated.

“If it’s fine, then let me see.” Cal took hold of Jim’s arm.

With a burst of fury, Jim shoved him away. Cal stumbled onto the ground on his rear end and stared at him. Breathing hard, Jim got a hold of himself. “I’m sorry. It just…hurts. But it’s fine.” Jim turned away, pacing a few steps here and there. He should help Cal up, but he was afraid to touch him.

For a minute, Cal didn’t say a thing. Then he slowly got to his feet, sighing. From the corner of his eye, Jim could see Cal hold something out.

“Here. Wrap this around it.”

Jim took the handkerchief. “Thanks. Look, I…” He wished he knew how to explain.

“It’s all right, Jim.” Cal sounded so tired. “I understand.”

The blood flow slowed, and Jim wrapped the cloth around his hand. “It’s just a nick.” He tried to laugh. “I was being a big baby, that’s all.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

Jim’s heart skipped a beat. “No, it’s fine.” He lifted his hand. “See? Won’t even need any stitches.”

Cal didn’t say anything for a few moments. When he spoke, it was with a terrible sense of defeat that made Jim’s blood run cold.

“I can’t stay here.”

Jim croaked, “What?”

“We both know it. Hell, the kids know it. Things aren’t right between us anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” He peered intently at his hand, fiddling with the handkerchief. “Everything’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

“You can’t even look at me. You barely have since last week. It’s best for everyone if I go.”

“It was just a misunderstanding!” Sweat broke out on Jim’s forehead. Cal couldn’t leave. If he did, Jim knew with a strange certainty that he’d never see him again. Panic coiled inside him. “I don’t want you to go.”

Cal took a deep breath. “The thing is…I wasn’t honest with you. What happened last week didn’t happen just because I’m queer.”

“What do you mean?” Jim’s skin prickled.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. Feels like forever now. Since boot camp. Hell, since the night we met.”

Jim swallowed thickly. There was a buzzing in his ears. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t.” Cal’s dark eyes were kind, his expression ineffably sad. “I always knew you’d never feel the same way. I know it now, no matter how much I want to deny it.”

“You’re my best friend.” Jim’s voice was reedy. His chest was tight, and his stomach had formed a solid knot.