Chapter 15
All Rafe could think about in the car was whether Deacon was scared.
From Sam and Mac’s place to the small town of Cambridge Falls was only a morning’s drive, even though they had to cross two state lines to get to it, blink and you’d miss it through New Hampshire, then just over the state line into Maine. The journey was quiet and flew by, not much talking from either of them, but, yeah, the whole concept of a scared Deacon was something that Rafe couldn’t shake.
“Are you ever scared?” he asked when they were little more than twenty minutes or so from Rafe’s small house on Main in the town.
“Of you getting hurt, yes,” Deacon answered without any real thought.
Rafe had nothing else to say, and let Deacon concentrate on driving. This northeast corner of the US was beautiful in Fall; a blanket of gold and red swept as far as the eye could see, and lush grass carpeted the ground. When he’d been asked where he wanted to go, when he’d been given a choice, he’d remembered the conversation with Deacon at the lake and said Massachusetts.
They hadn’t outright laughed at his choice, but Maine had been as close as they could get.
“You knew where I was put in WitSec, didn’t you?” He’d meant to ask that before, or state it as fact.
“Not exactly, but Evie kept tabs on you, and every so often she’d tell me everything was okay, until it wasn’t.”
Silence again.
They stopped at a diner with a little over ten miles to go to Cambridge Falls, a small, out-of-the-way place that had seen better days. Deacon opened the door and gestured for Rafe to enter first, then he chose a table in the corner by the exit with his back to the wall. Rafe wasn’t ready to have his back to anything, and he wriggled into the other seat. Then he imagined having to make a quick exit with his leg in plaster, wedged in so tight, and panic snagged in his chest. He began to move to get out, but Deacon laid a hand over his.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Force of habit.”
“You’re freaking me out,” Rafe said under his breath. He tried to get out again, but this time Deacon’s touch was firmer.
Rafe relaxed a little as the waitress made her way over with mugs and a jug of hot coffee.
“Coffee?” she asked, and filled both mugs when Rafe nodded and Deacon gave a low yes. The outside of the diner looked dated, but the service was quick and friendly, and the coffee hot. “What can I get you?”
“Pancakes, bacon, eggs,” Deacon said, “and toast.”
The waitress looked at Rafe expectantly. “Toast,” he said, to placate her and to rid Deacon of the worried frown. Sue him, but he wasn’t hungry at all.
She took the order, bustled back with a basket of condiments and jellies, and left.
The toast arrived, and the scent of it was enough to have Rafe buttering it and adding jelly, but then he stared at it, even as Deacon ate his huge plate of food. Not even the scent of bacon was working for him.
Rafe bit a piece of toast and chewed it thoughtfully. It tasted pretty good, and he felt a little hungry. Maybe it was because he was getting closer to home that he was so nervous. He finished the toast, washed it down with coffee, and waited for Deacon to finish.
Abruptly, he wanted to see his place, his home, and he wanted to show it to Deacon.
“I can’t wait for you to see Cambridge Falls,” he said as they rose to leave. Deacon threw down some money to cover the check and held open the door to let Rafe out first. “I feel like the only thanks I can give you for all this is for you to see me back home safe where I belong,” he added as soon as they were out in the chilly Fall air.
Deacon shrugged into his jacket and gently patted Rafe on the chest. “You don’t ever have to thank me, but I can’t wait to see your town and your place.”
They were back on the road within seconds, and the general feeling of wellbeing that Rafe had felt disappeared quicker than ice in the sun when Deacon swore with feeling.
Deacon slowed up and indicated. “Seems like we’ve got company,” he said.
Fear gripped Rafe as he twisted in his seat to look behind them. “Who is it?” How long would it be before fear wasn’t his constant companion?
“Local PD.”
Rafe didn’t feel much less concerned by the news. Cops meant questions.
“Let me handle this,” Rafe said, and Deacon didn’t answer, although he lowered his window and had his documents to hand.
A man Rafe recognized leaned down to the car. “License and registration, sir.”
“Bill, hey,” Rafe said, like it hadn’t been a while since he’d been in town and the last time he’d been there he hadn’t been driven away in an ambulance.
“Craig,” Bill said in surprise, and rested his hands on the roof of the car, peering in. “That you?” It was weird to hear his fake name. Both he and Deacon would have to be careful to use it when they were in town.
“Sure is,” Rafe said, not letting one iota of his worry into his tone, and slipping back into his witness program name easily.
“Heard you left the city hospital AMA. We were all kinda worried.”
“You know how it is,” Rafe said, thinking on his feet. Deacon shot him a look that spoke volumes. You know how it is, what?
“How you doing?”
“Better, thank you. Bill, meet my friend Deacon.”
Bill extended a hand. “Welcome to Cambridge Falls.”
“Sir,” Deacon replied, and shook his hand. He was formal and polite, but Rafe could see the tension radiating from him. Surely that was something that Bill would pick up on.
“You boys drive carefully now.” Bill puffed himself up importantly, “See you at the town meeting tomorrow at the school. Bring your friend.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Good to have you back, Craig.”
“Good to be back.”
Pleasantries exchanged, Bill returned to his car, waving as he drew out and passed them.
Was it just Rafe, or had there been an emphasis on the word friend, and a sly wink from the crusty old cop? Everyone in town knew he was gay. He’d told the school principal at his interview, and it seemed like by the first day on the job everyone had known he wasn’t interested in Betsy’s cousin Katie, and would probably prefer her other cousin, Tad.
When they got into the small town, Rafe felt as if he’d been away forever, when in reality it hadn’t been long at all.
“We’re here,” Deacon said, and slowed up for the one set of stoplights.
Rafe glanced up and realized where they were. To the left led to his house, to the right took you to the school where he taught
Rafe’s apartment was over a bakery, Carter’s, and sandwiched between a diner and a grocery store. Seems as Deacon knew exactly where he lived. Of course he did.
“This is home,” he said needlessly, and waited as Deacon pulled up farther along the road and killed the engine. Deacon helped him out of the car, and together they managed the iron steps up the side of the café to his front door.
Nothing had changed, the door was still red, but things should have changed. He’d been away for a while now, not been back since the hit-and-run had put him in the hospital. He didn’t have a key, it wasn’t as if Deacon took any personal belongings from the hospital along with Rafe. Still, Deacon managed to get inside with a collection of keys on a ring. The smell inside was better than he would have imagined. A couple of the plants he’d been nurturing were long since dead – no one else had a key to his place, part of his WitSec agreement. Mail had piled up at the door, a lot of it junk mail, some bills, but utilities were all paid monthly direct, so he knew there wouldn’t be any letters demanding money. Hell, he didn’t even have a credit card. Craig Jenkins lived within his means and didn’t draw any attention to himself, until of course he did with the article. So stupid.
“Nice place,” Deacon said, and closed the front door behind him. He looked so big in this place, but he looked right, as if he fit into Rafe’s idea of home. The drapes were open, just as he’d left them to go to work that morning, and his small kitchen still tidy, his bed made. He knew his DVR would be full of recorded shows from his favorite Discovery Channel.
Nothing had changed.
Just him.
First thing he did was flick on the hot water; he needed a shower. Then he thought about what Deacon might need, and set about making coffee. And through all of this he didn’t say a word, and Deacon just watched him.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
Rafe wasn’t sure where to start; this place was more his home than any he’d had since his dad had died. He felt secure here, safe, and he loved this town, and his job. In fact, what he wanted to do was smile, so he did. Deacon tugged him close and they kissed, right in the middle of the tiny sitting room.
Now all Rafe had to do was convince Deacon that this could be his home as well.
Where did that thought come from?
But Rafe knew where it had originated. Right from inside his heart.