Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

Dr. Lucas Hamilton

Sumner thinks we've settled the matter, but I am not so sure. More than one man has believed he is immune to people's prejudice, only to find himself an object of scorn. I won't be the reason Sumner loses his shine. If I sense any disquiet among the nurses in the morning, I'll go whether Sumner likes it or not. I seem to be stuck here. The sooner I learn to live without the buffer of Sumner's name or his money, the sooner I'll be a worthy parter in his work.

We're still in the kitchen talking quietly when the door opens and Rose enters.

"Marie said she wasn't feeling well." She hangs up her coat. "She asked if I could fill in."

"Excellent," Sumner says as he takes my dishes to the sink. "I don't know about Dr. Hamilton, but I'm beat."

"There's water for tea," I point out the hot kettle. "I didn't get much sleep."

"I'll just wash these." Sumner says this so casually I barely hear the wobble in his voice. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be up in a bit."

"Sure." My face heats. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Dr. Hamilton." Rose takes a mug from the cupboard. "Sweet dreams."

My feet seem loud as I walk up the stairs. Guilt follows like a shadow. Marie's words echo in my ears as I get ready for bed. I've seen men like him before is the great granddaddy of they're all groomers. I don't know which bothers me more: that someone from a century ago would accuse me of this, or that if I wake up tomorrow in my time, nothing will have changed. I open my eyes before dawn to find Sumner watching me. A smile draws his lips upward.

"Did I wake you?"

I shift to face him. "Were you watching me sleep?"

"I just got here." He slides beneath the covers but keeps a couple hand widths between us. "Mr. Hobbs needed the toilet. I gave him something for his cough and checked whether Rose needs anything. She's all right."

I didn't even hear. "I must have been out."

"You were." He inches closer and slides his hand up my thigh. "Are you still exhausted?"

"No." When his thumb hits the hollow of my hip—a ticklish spot—I smother a laugh. "In fact, parts of me are waking right up."

This gets another sly smile. "I must be doing it right."

"Oh yeah." I shiver. My cock swells, and Sumner gives it a tentative stroke.

"Is this okay with you, dearest?" He presses his lips to mine and absorbs my moan.

"Yes." I breathe the word when he lifts his head.

"How quiet can you be?" he asks. "This is a stealth mission."

It's been years since I've considered how loud I am in bed. I'm not a screamer, but I'm not ashamed to let my lovers hear when they please me. But there are people downstairs, and we've got to be quiet or face disaster. I can't decide whether that is a buzzkill or a turn on until I'm warming up to the expert hand job I'm getting.

I must have whimpered, because he rises above me and wraps his free hand over my mouth. My eyes open wide in surprise. He's got his lower lip firmly between his teeth to keep himself quiet as he pushes his cock against my hip.

God knows, I can do better than that. I nudge him higher, take his cock in my hand, and begin by rubbing my thumb over the tip. He growls, low and needy as he shoves himself into my tight fist. It takes seconds find a rhythm, rocking our bodies and pumping each other. If the bed gives even the slightest creak we freeze, but inevitably, one of us starts to move cautiously again.

It's frightening how much I want him. This is clumsy and artless. It's greedy and needy and oh, so hot as we strain toward bliss separately and together. In the bare light coming from the moon outside the window, his hair gleams like molten silver. His eyes are shadows in a face fierce with animal lust. He grits his teeth and ruts with feral fury, turning my world inside out and upside down with a few quirks of his thumb over my piss slit.

I could find my release just by watching him arch his strong back. When he leans in to practically maul my neck and shoulder with his mouth, it's over. I'm done. From the glut of tingles leading from the sensual scrape of his hot hand on my mouth to the iron grip he's got on my dick my orgasm bursts over me like a shower of stars.

He lets go a second later, shooting hot cum over my belly in time with each silent sob of breath next to my ear. "Ah. Ah. Ahhhh. God."

I lie sticky and cooling beneath him while I catch my breath. He removes his hand from my mouth to wipe the sweat from my brow. He cards his fingers through my hair and tucks the longer strands behind my ear.

"That was a choice way to wake up." I'm embarrassed now that it's over. "I'm usually more dignified than that."

"Dignity is for chumps." Sumner presses his forehead to my shoulder and pulls my arm around him.

"We're going to get stuck together." I try to rise, but he holds me fast.

"A couple more minutes won't hurt."

I kiss the top of his head. "Guess not."

He lazily drags his finger through his jizz on my belly. I catch his hand and suck his fingertips clean. His eyes linger on my mouth. "Goodness."

"Goodness has nothing to do with it." He probably saw Mae West movies in theaters.

After a few more minutes of stolen tenderness, Sumner gets up and wets a washcloth in the basin. He cleans me with care before swiping it over himself. I feel valued. Cherished. Other men have cleaned me up before but there something about the way Sumner hums to himself. The way he meets my gaze and smiles. It makes my going away that much more urgent. If anyone uses me to hurt him, I won't be responsible for the consequences.

I wait until he's back in bed before saying, "I know you don't like the idea, but I want to go to with Mr. Hobbs."

"I figured." Sumner seems resigned to the idea now. I wonder if something new has happened. "They can use the help."

"It doesn't have to be for long." I twine my fingers with his. "Just until you settle things with Marie."

"I still can't believe she'd really cause trouble." He moves closer and combs his fingers through my hair.

"I can. If she thinks she's saving you from a fate worse than death ." I clutch imaginary pearls.

I want that to be funny, but neither of us laugh.

"You have a point, as usual." Sumner nuzzles my neck. "God damn her and people like her. It's no business of theirs."

"I know." When I turn to face him, fine grit sifts between our bodies. I can't believe I'm getting used to living with dirt on everything.

Sumner casually flips the top sheet to throw the accumulated dust onto the floor. "You say things are better where you're from. Tell me about that."

"Some things are better." I scrape my fingers over his stubble. My friends all got married as soon as California let them. That was before Proposition 8 passed. "Progress isn't linear. I can live openly, work where I'm qualified, marry whomever I choose, but there are still a hundred subtle and unsubtle forms of bigotry and in-your-face cruelty, meant to shame people like us. They mostly come from those with fundamental religious beliefs."

He closes his eyes. "Not so different then."

"The difference is I refuse to be intimidated. The fight is on the street, at the cash register, in the voting booth. We gain ground, and then we lose it. One battle won means six more must be fought."

"Marriage is a win." He covers his mouth to yawn. "Do you want to get married?"

"I've never considered it." I suppose it wouldn't be so bad, now that I'm more settled. "It's Hetero Club. Just because they let me in doesn't mean I want to be a member. I was married to work until Sophie came along."

Sumner's eyes get a faraway look. "I wonder what it would be like, being married to someone I chose."

"I don't know." The idea of marrying Sumner gives me a secret thrill. Act cool. No drooling. "Probably a nice party and the same boring life."

It's quiet until his breathing evens out.

I lie awake longer, worrying about things I have no control over. Time travel and gossips and whether Sumner sees me as an equal. As I drift off, I think of well tailored suits, boutonnieres, and holding Sumner's hands in front of a judge. What surprises me is how much I like the idea…

"Rise and shine, dearest." As usual, Sumner's dressed before I wake up. "Come down soon."

With a kiss on my cheek, he leaves the room.

Though I can't make out the words, the tone of Sumner's conversation with Rose sounds normal. It's possible that Marie hasn't shared her misgivings, but Rose came early to cover for her, so maybe she didn't get the chance.

Sumner knows these women better than I do. He trusts their loyalty. But he didn't see the righteous fury in Marie's eyes. I have no doubt she believes what she said. Marie wants to protect him by chasing away a bad influence: me.

This is a first for me. Even men whose parents hate that their sons are gay are fine with them dating a wealthy surgeon. I've never been a "bad boy." I might actually like it.

There's a bite mark on my shoulder where Sumner got freaky. My shirt covers it when it's buttoned, but I'll be giving it a press every so often to remind myself it's there. It's such a primal thing. It's the outcome of how we took each other last night. I wish this bruise could last forever.

I dress neatly and comb my hair. I can't do anything about the scruff, because I've never used a straight razor, and that's all Sumner has.

Once I'm as presentable as I'm going to be, I slip on my white coat and head downstairs.

Mr. Hobbs is resting fitfully. Rose and Sumner sit at the table in the kitchen, eating oatmeal and canned peaches. The air is crisp and smells like coffee and disinfectant. I pour myself a mug and lean against the counter.

"Morning Dr. Hamilton." Rose gives a sleepy wave. "I'm not used to the night shift yet. I hope Marie isn't coming down with something."

"If she feels ill, it's better for her to rest." Sumner spoons another peach half into his bowl. "Remind her to drink plenty of fluids. We can handle things here."

"I'll be going with Mr. Hobbs today," I say from behind my mug. "I want to see what things are like at the Red Cross hospital."

"It's like here, only a bigger." Rose answers. "They set up in a school gym or a church, maybe. I doubt it's nicer."

I take another sip of my coffee. "Maybe I can help out."

"But you help out here." Rose looks to Sumner. He does his best to hide it, but he radiates dismay. She frowns at me. "We need you."

"I expect you've experienced the initial rush of sick people." I thought about this last night while I was having trouble sleeping. "We got a big influx of patients the first couple of days, but there's no line to see Dr. Sumner now."

"Yesterday was almost slow," Sumner agrees.

" But. " Rose holds up a finger. "The cases we get from now on are likely to be more serious."

"That's possible." I see their mugs are nearly empty, so I take the percolator to them. "Can I warm up your coffees?"

"Please." Rose pushes her mug my way. I fill hers and then Sumner's. When he looks up at me, a secret thrill races through me. Do I have a sneaking around kink? No. It's a Sumner kink. My cheeks grow hot before I turn away.

This is why we need to put some distance between us.

Sumner can have a normal conversation with Rose, but when he looks at me, heat blossoms in my stomach. I'm a grown goddamn man, but for the first time—ever—I can't hide how I feel. Last night, Sumner and I made out like naughty schoolboys. This morning, I'm still acting like one.

No. Absolutely not.

Just because I spend most of my time with an adolescent girl, it does not follow that I have to act like an adolescent myself. This isn't my first time or even my fifty-first. I should be immune to romance, except when Sumner calls me dearest, he might as well be pulling my spine from my body and spanking my ass with it. I get positively gooey. Shit . Maybe if I don't look at him, no one will know.

"I'd like you to reconsider leaving," Sumner says quietly.

"I should see if they need help." Outside the window, people have started going about their day.

"Alice's funeral is on Saturday." Rose takes her bowl to the sink. "We should go."

"That will depend on whether I can get a ride back."

"You'll try though?" Sumner asks. "I can pick you up."

"I don't know what the Red Cross system is. Let's see what happens." I don't even know if they'll let me stay. "Don't forget, to write that introduction. That will smooth the way,"

"I'll see that you get one." From the way he tightens his jaw he not happy, but he won't try to stop me. I take it as a win.

"You'll let us know you're all right, won't you?" Rose seems worried. I can't tell if she's worried about Sumner, or me, or the clinic.

"There's no phone here." I don't know how else I'd let them know.

"Keep the clinic's address with you," says Rose. "And Pastor Andersen has a phone."

Sumner pushes away the rest of his breakfast. "The Andersons seem to be at the center of everything. I'll send any urgent messages through them or contact the local sheriff."

"No, steer clear of the law," Rose argues. "They're not kind to those they think of as drifters."

"I didn't think of that," I say.

I've always been "someone" with a capital S. Once I leave here, I'll be no one, entirely on my own with no money, no proof I have an education, no wealthy family who—despite being strict and unforgiving—support me.

This is terrifying, but not a novel experience.

Anxiety is an old friend who shows up at the worst of times to laugh at me. I calm my nerves by making a list. One. I need to accept that I'm stuck here. Two. I have to find a paying job during the worst financial crisis in the nation's history. Three. I must find some kind of shelter. Four. I need to find a steady supply of food. Five. I need to pass as a man from 1935.

If I don't want to be Sumner Delano's problem child or his burden to carry, I must accomplish my goals post haste.

I need to prove I'm not a leech or a predator. I'm taking a risk to prove it. Sumner is worth any risk. Until we find out exactly how much trouble Marie means to make for him, this is how it will have to be.

I wash the dishes while Sumner and Rose make Mr. Hobbs ready to leave for the field hospital. Afterward, I go upstairs because Sumner has paper and ink in his writing desk. I've barely finish hiding the note I'm leaving for him when he enters the room.

"I'm not happy you're going." Sumner pulls a leather Gladstone bag down from the top of the clothespress. "But you'll need some things."

"I'm always taking from you." I stand helplessly behind him while he works. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about." He keeps his focus on what he's doing. Is he shutting me out? I know my decision to leave upsets him, but I know I'm right about this.

He picks up a pile of clothes. "Where did those come from?"

"Mrs. Andersen found some secondhand clothing that might do for you. Calvin brought it while you were at the Morse's farm yesterday.

"Thank Mrs. Andersen and Calvin for me." I peer around him.

There are more dungarees and work shirts. "She found a white shirt—I put in some collars for you—and even a suit for Sundays. You may have one of my ties. As for socks and drawers, I had Calvin get some basics at the store. You'll need to take masks as well."

"Sumner, can't you look at me?" I ask.

He stops what he's doing but doesn't look up.

"I'm not certain I want to look at you right now." His shoulders sag before he turns around. "It's hard enough to think about you leaving. I'll make Marie listen."

"This isn't just about Marie." I don't want to leave, but I can't stay and let him take care of me. "It will be good for me to see how the Red Cross are treating the patients we send."

"But that's not why you're going." When he finally looks up, his heart-stopping blue eyes glitter. "You're afraid of what might happen to me if you stay."

It takes me a while to come up with an answer that's both true and irrefutable. "Yes. All right. I am afraid for you. I'm also scared for myself. I'm stranger here, and malicious gossip could ruin both our lives. You heard Marie. She believes I'm a predator. What if she gets others to believe her?"

Sumner stacks socks on top of the clothing. "A little small-town gossip can't hurt us."

"You don't know that." I sit and pat the space next to me. "Come here for a minute. I care about you, Sumner."

"Likewise." A bright blush steals across his high cheekbones. It's adorable.

"I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. At the same time, I miss Sophie so much, it hurts." I pound my fist against my chest to show him.

"I know." He lowers his gaze.

"I'm lost in history, but I'm still having a hard time accepting what that means."

"I know, Luke. I'm sorry." He takes my hand and brings it to his lips.

"I don't want to be alone in this world. The fact that I'm not sitting in the corner crying like a child is a huge accomplishment. I can't let you take care of me without considering the effect it will have on you."

He rubs his thumb over my palm. "I don't mind taking care of you."

"I'm not a dog you found near the dumpsters."

"But I am a socially well-placed man. I'm wealthy. Mirrors don't crack when I look in them." He points to the gilt mirror hanging above the stand with the wash basin. "Half the women I meet want me to marry their daughters and the other half are their daughters. I'm a catch. How is taking care of you any different than taking a wife?"

‘Because I'm your equal . And think of this as prophecy: women are your equal too, and maybe they don't all like being taken care of either, since they end up doing all the manual labor."

"Point taken." Sumner admits wryly.

"I have no power and no resources and none of my privilege in this Godforsaken place. It fucking sucks." That gets Sumner's attention.

"I'm sorry, Luke."

"I could let you pay my way, and in return, I could do whatever little tasks you find to make me feel useful, but I'd hate that. I need to learn how to take care of myself."

Sumner squeezes my hand. "Thanks for helping me understand how you feel."

"You are a good man." My eyes are starting to sting. "I can only say that about a handful of the people I've met in my lifetime. Let me do this for us."

"You need this more than I knew. I see." He rakes his hair off his forehead in frustration. "I still don't have to like it."

"C'mon. Let's load Mr. Hobbs and roll out."

"Take this." Sumner fishes a coin purse from his jacket pocket. "You'll need money."

"No. I?—"

"Shut up." He presses it into my palm. It's heavier than I thought it would be, and it goes clunk when he lets go. "Think of it as an honorarium."

"This is mortifying. You have no idea." I open the purse. Dollar coins, quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies. I don't know why I bothered to look. It's American money.

He waits until I put the purse in my pocket to take both my hands between his.

He says, "I want no goodbyes between us."

I nod, though he'll find a note under his pillow later. "No goodbyes."

I put on my game face, hands clasped in his, heart trembling with fear, until Rose calls out that Pastor Andersen has arrived.