them again. He was stirred, half-erect. He watched for a while as Gabriel’s hand worked, eyes open and fixed on Joey’s. Then Joey’s hand crept down and they were both doing it, eyes locked together, pulling harder as their breath came faster. Joey came first, moaning, and then Gabriel followed with a gasp.
“You didn’t go away that time,” Gabriel said as Joey panted, dazed.
“No.”
Gabriel’s fingers touched Joey’s cheek. He moved nearer, incrementally closer, as Joey waited, eyes still open. Finally their faces were together. Stroking Joey’s hair, Gabriel kissed Joey, first on closed lips, then on the forehead. Joey trembled at the contact, but not with fear. The brush of those long fingers, that hard mouth, was erotic. Then Gabriel released him.
“Best – best get some sleep.” Suddenly, Gabriel couldn’t look at Joey or get back to his own bunk fast enough. “Cranston will ship you back to unskilled labor if you can’t match his pace.” With that, he disappeared below, leaving Joey alone in the top bunk, pondering the moment deep into the night.
* * *
T he next morning, Joey received a letter addressed to him in an unfamiliar hand. It was postmarked London; already opened and read, the envelope had been stamped APPROVED. Joey sat down at the small table to read the letter as Gabriel brushed his teeth at the basin.
Joey—
I wanted to tell you in person. But you won’t be permitted your first visitor until December. I wrote the board of governors asking for an exception, but it was denied. So all I have left is to tell you in a letter.
You know I always believed in you. I still do. I have never doubted your innocence. If you were only due to be away for a year, or three years, I could bear it. Not just the loss of your company and my own loneliness, but my shame and isolation, too. I know you’ll despise me for telling you this, but when the Crown convicted you, it convicted me, too. Most of the villagers at home wanted nothing to do with me, once they realized I wouldn’t gossip about you. So I moved to London to stay with my cousin Dora. I don’t expect I shall ever go home again. I am starting a new life in the city and for it to succeed, it must be new in every way.
Joey, please understand, I don’t expect you to forgive me. It must seem as though the entire world has turned against you, through no fault of your own, and now me, too. What I have chosen is selfish, and wrong, and I’ve chosen it all the same. I want to live while I’m young enough to have the things I once dreamt of – a husband, children, and a good name.
Julia
Joey stared at the letter. It was all in Julia’s handwriting, except for the signature, which was bold and slanted. Studying the smudge on the words “young” and “name,” Joey suspected Julia had wept so much while making her confession, she’d been unable to continue. So cousin Dora had signed the letter, written directions on the envelope and posted it.
He was proud of Julia, happy for her. Her choice was what he’d wanted, echoing the very arguments he’d used during those black days after he was convicted and awaiting sentencing. Even if they’d been wed, Joey would have urged Julia to divorce him. The very idea of a twenty-three-year-old woman, bright and pretty and vivacious, waiting eighteen years for her fiancé to emerge from prison, middle-aged and no doubt broken, was obscene. What would Joey have to offer her by then? Disgraced as a physician and fit for nothing but manual labor, assuming he could even get it …
Gabriel slipped the letter out of Joey’s fingers and pressed a clean handkerchief in its place. “Right. To your bunk.”
Wiping his eyes, Joey struggled to control of himself. “It’s not – it’s not the letter,” Joey said, or tried to say, throat closing as Gabriel helped him up. “It’s just – just—”
“In your bunk,” Gabriel repeated. “I’ll report you as sick to the duty
“You didn’t go away that time,” Gabriel said as Joey panted, dazed.
“No.”
Gabriel’s fingers touched Joey’s cheek. He moved nearer, incrementally closer, as Joey waited, eyes still open. Finally their faces were together. Stroking Joey’s hair, Gabriel kissed Joey, first on closed lips, then on the forehead. Joey trembled at the contact, but not with fear. The brush of those long fingers, that hard mouth, was erotic. Then Gabriel released him.
“Best – best get some sleep.” Suddenly, Gabriel couldn’t look at Joey or get back to his own bunk fast enough. “Cranston will ship you back to unskilled labor if you can’t match his pace.” With that, he disappeared below, leaving Joey alone in the top bunk, pondering the moment deep into the night.
* * *
T he next morning, Joey received a letter addressed to him in an unfamiliar hand. It was postmarked London; already opened and read, the envelope had been stamped APPROVED. Joey sat down at the small table to read the letter as Gabriel brushed his teeth at the basin.
Joey—
I wanted to tell you in person. But you won’t be permitted your first visitor until December. I wrote the board of governors asking for an exception, but it was denied. So all I have left is to tell you in a letter.
You know I always believed in you. I still do. I have never doubted your innocence. If you were only due to be away for a year, or three years, I could bear it. Not just the loss of your company and my own loneliness, but my shame and isolation, too. I know you’ll despise me for telling you this, but when the Crown convicted you, it convicted me, too. Most of the villagers at home wanted nothing to do with me, once they realized I wouldn’t gossip about you. So I moved to London to stay with my cousin Dora. I don’t expect I shall ever go home again. I am starting a new life in the city and for it to succeed, it must be new in every way.
Joey, please understand, I don’t expect you to forgive me. It must seem as though the entire world has turned against you, through no fault of your own, and now me, too. What I have chosen is selfish, and wrong, and I’ve chosen it all the same. I want to live while I’m young enough to have the things I once dreamt of – a husband, children, and a good name.
Julia
Joey stared at the letter. It was all in Julia’s handwriting, except for the signature, which was bold and slanted. Studying the smudge on the words “young” and “name,” Joey suspected Julia had wept so much while making her confession, she’d been unable to continue. So cousin Dora had signed the letter, written directions on the envelope and posted it.
He was proud of Julia, happy for her. Her choice was what he’d wanted, echoing the very arguments he’d used during those black days after he was convicted and awaiting sentencing. Even if they’d been wed, Joey would have urged Julia to divorce him. The very idea of a twenty-three-year-old woman, bright and pretty and vivacious, waiting eighteen years for her fiancé to emerge from prison, middle-aged and no doubt broken, was obscene. What would Joey have to offer her by then? Disgraced as a physician and fit for nothing but manual labor, assuming he could even get it …
Gabriel slipped the letter out of Joey’s fingers and pressed a clean handkerchief in its place. “Right. To your bunk.”
Wiping his eyes, Joey struggled to control of himself. “It’s not – it’s not the letter,” Joey said, or tried to say, throat closing as Gabriel helped him up. “It’s just – just—”
“In your bunk,” Gabriel repeated. “I’ll report you as sick to the duty
Similar Books
