Another Time, Another Place - Part 5

Aug 03, 2010 10:20

I hope you've enjoyed "Another Time, Another Place" which is coming to an end in this chapter. Once again, I must thank my beta's, sevigny7 and chering, for their insights and tweaks and gundamnook for the banner that inspired all this. Thank you all. FanSee

PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4





LINDSAY

Mel and I were having tea in the parlor with our dear friend, Charlie Upchurch, newly arrived from New York City. "I have a suggestion I'd like to make," I said. "My husband has a young protégé living with us…" I thought it best to be discreet, even with Charlie, "who has a great deal of artistic talent but who needs instruction. Mr. Taylor might be the ideal traveling companion for you, and he would benefit from your expertise."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "How so? I am not looking for a companion."

"You are still determined to travel down the coast to paint, are you not?"

"I am."

"Even though you would have much more comfort and equally quaint scenes to inspire you here, in San Francisco?"

"I may well return here, but first I want to travel along the coast, toward Carmel. Have you seen any of William Keith's works?"

I shook my head. "I have not, I'm afraid."

"His works have such airiness and space…I feel driven to see the region and to try to get it on canvas myself."

I sighed and shook my head. "Ah, Charlie, such a romantic."

Mellie said, "You may encounter some rough characters, and by yourself, you may be vulnerable to attack."

"And this Mr. Taylor…he'd be just the man to fend off any rough characters I encounter?"

Mellie and I looked at each other. Even now, a little over a year after the attack and mostly recovered, it was hard to tout Justin as a defender against 'rough characters.' He is slight of build and even before the attack, had not been the sort to engage in fisticuffs.

I cleared my throat. "There is safety in numbers. Two men traveling together are less of a target than a single gentleman. More importantly, Mr. Kinney has been instructing him in shooting, so he knows how to use a pistol."

Charlie nodded. "I need to meet him before I make up my mind, but those are good points."

"He's out sketching, but we expect him back shortly...probably in the next half hour."

Mellie picked up the tea pot. "Would you like another cup?"

In fact, over an hour had passed before we heard Justin's voice in the kitchen. Mellie went back to speak to him, and five minutes later they both appeared. I tried to look at Justin as though I had never seen him before, and I had to admit to myself that he was not physically imposing. He was taller than Mellie, not quite as tall as I am: say, 5 feet 6 inches and a fraction. Although he had filled out somewhat since the attack, he was still slender. However, he is an inch or so taller than Charlie, although Charlie probably out-weighs Justin by more than a few pounds.

"Mr. Taylor," I said, "may I introduce Mr. Upchurch, an old friend of ours from New York City. Mr. Upchurch, I would like you to meet Mr. Taylor."

They shook hands. I continued, "Mr. Upchurch has studied painting in both New York and Paris and has sold a number of paintings. He is planninon traveling down the coast toward Carmel, sketching and painting as he goes."

Justin's face glowed, as it does whenever he discusses painting…or Brian. "I am so pleased to meet you. Did Mrs. Kinney tell you that I have tried my hand at painting? I can't tell you how delighted I am to meet someone like yourself."

I addressed myself to Charlie, "Would you like to see a few of Justin's paintings? Mellie and I could fetch some for you."

Justin said, "No, no, I don't want to impose."

"It's no imposition at all," Charlie said.

"Of course not," I said. "Mellie, would you pour the tea for Justin, and then you can help me bring down a few of his works."

As we left the room, I heard Justin say, "May I ask with whom you've studied? In New York and in Paris?"

Mellie and I tactfully took our time gathering up six of Justin's paintings, including two of his larger works. Mellie said, as we sorted through the canvases, "Justin needs to work with someone more experienced and more formally trained than he is if he is going to progress."

"I agree. In fact, I think he is well aware that he lacks training. Has he seemed somewhat restless to you lately?"

Mellie looked up from the canvas she had been examining. "I believe so, but…. If Charlie and Justin decide to travel together, Brian may well resist such a proposal? He is somewhat…ah…protective?"

"We shall just have to put the matter to him in such a manner that he cannot oppose it. I believe I know how to do just that."

BRIAN

When I got home at my usual time, at nearly three in the morning, a light was flickering in the parlor window. That was unusual. Unless Lindsay is working at Babylon, she and Mellie are in bed long before 3:00 a.m. Not this morning. I braced myself as I locked the door behind me.

She and Mellie were not alone. As I entered the parlor, all three of them stood up, and Lindsay said, "This is our friend Charlie Upchurch. Charlie arrived the day before yesterday, after an exhausting train trip." Charlie was a short, dumpy gentleman whose age I estimated to be about mine but whose looks showed a great deal more wear and tear. He wore an ill-fitting suit over a heavy shirt without a tie. Overall, he cut a most unprepossessing figure.

We shook hands, and Lindsay offered me a glass of port, which I accepted. We then exchanged pleasantries while I wondered just why the fuck I was being softened up. Finally, Lindsay said, "Mr. Upchurch is an artist. He is planning on traveling down the coast, probably as far as Carmel where there is a summer artists' colony. He proposes to purchase a pack mule and perhaps a horse."

I raised an eyebrow in such a manner as to indicate that I found the information both unexciting and unworthy of any delay in my seeking my bed.

Mr. Upchurch said, "I have met your protégé. His work is impressive for one so young and untutored. I should very much like to work with him."

"Charlie has offered to take Justin with him, and Justin would like to go." I started to speak, but Lindsay kept talking. "If Justin is to progress, he needs to work with someone like Charlie who is classically trained and can help him develop his skills and artistic sensibilities. Furthermore, if they do travel all the way to Monterey, he will almost certainly meet other artists there. No doubt their society will also help him improve. I am sure you will not want to stand in the way of Justin's progress."

I was silent for a minute, thinking. Then I asked, "Where is Justin? I would like to hear from him what his feelings are."

Mellie smiled. "I'm afraid he indulged a bit too liberally in the port. He has gone up to bed."

"And will be hung over in the morning."

"No doubt."

I guessed that Mellie and Lindsay had kept refilling Justin's glass deliberately. It was no coincidence that we were having this talk without him. "I would not oppose such an expedition, of course." I stood up and took a turn around the room. "I am well aware that Justin would benefit from this sort of opportunity."

"I would be delighted to have him as a travel companion," Mr. Upchurch said.

I looked him over again. Upchurch would indeed be lucky to have Justin, both as a traveling companion...and in his bed. He was not the sort to attract someone like Justin otherwise.

"And we will feel better, knowing that Charlotte has Justin with her, especially now that Justin has learned to shoot."

I looked at 'Charlie' again. "I see," I drawled.

Charlotte blushed. "I dress as a man when I travel," she said. "No one notices me much this way, but if I travelled alone, dressed appropriately for my gender, I assure you I would attract a great deal of attention, most of it unwelcome."

That did put a different complexion on the adventure.

It took the better part of a week for Charlie to put together her expedition. She ended up purchasing a horse and a mule - I contributed a horse from my stable for Justin - and all the paraphernalia needed for two people to camp out. She had brought most of the art supplies she needed with her. Justin took her to the Art Emporium for anything additional she needed, as well as what she suggested he take with him. After much hustle and bustle, Sunday night arrived; they would pack up the mule and head south along the coastline in the morning.

Justin accompanied me to Babylon that evening, to say good-bye to Emmett, Leon, and a few others, but we were home before midnight. Once in my apartment, I poured us both a shot of bourbon and raised my glass in a toast. "To a safe trip!"

"And a safe return."

I must have looked skeptical because he continued, "I'll be back."

"You don't know that." I paused and thought of all the opportunities opening up to a talented young artist. A summer artist's colony…who knew who he'd meet there, what offers he'd receive, the chances he'd have to meet people from his own social milieu as well as other artists. "Neither do I."

I caught my lower lip between my teeth, trying to think of just the right words, the words that would let him go gently, that would set him free to make his own life without his attachment to me warping that life out of shape. For he was attached to me, that I knew, and at his age and with his prospects, that connection needed to be weakened…must be weakened.

I went on, "Whether we see each other in a month or six months or never again, doesn't matter. It's only time." I turned away; I couldn't bear to look at him.

"I have to leave…I have to take advantage of this opportunity…but I'll miss you. Time…," he paused, "it's been almost two years since I first walked into Babylon…."

"More like a year and a half…"

"And those months made me who I am now." I heard him move closer. "When I leave tomorrow, I'll take you with me, because part of who I am is because of you." He pulled me toward him, wrapping his arms around my neck.

I said, "A boy walked into Babylon, but no more. You've become a man, a man I'm proud of."

He kissed me, slowly, gently. I deepened the kiss, as I had so many times before. Even so, it still warmed me, still aroused me. Then I buried my nose in his neck and smelled the good, familiar smell of him. I wanted to experience everything we'd ever done in the past…what? twenty months? again, in this one last night. We undressed slowly, making the removal of each garment a ritual, until finally we made our way to the bed where we had fucked so many times and so many ways. Not this time. This time was different. This time we made love.

I remembered the first time we fucked as I ran my tongue down the length of his backbone, slowly, and licked and tasted and teased his asshole until he squirmed and moaned. I nipped and tweaked and touched and probed all his most sensitive parts and then gave up access to mine. Our bodies slid against each other, strong and muscular and slick with sweat, and he moaned as I raised his ankles to my shoulders. I was in him and on him and of him and perhaps he moaned or perhaps it was me.

I slept at last, reluctantly, as did he. I woke to his mouth surrounding me, hot and wet. Then he was kissing me and I was moving in him unthinkingly, and he was hot and rigid in my hand. I slept again.

When I woke for a second time, Justin was gone.

EMMETT

Brian was a good deal quieter than usual after Justin left. Perhaps he drank a little more and smiled a little less, perhaps more men joined him in his office and stayed for a shorter time, but generally he was less changed than I had expected. He turned up at Babylon in mid-afternoon as usual and stayed until we closed in the small hours of the morning, as usual. What was different was his tongue. Usually Brian is sharp-tongued, but for weeks after Justin left, he wasn't so all-fired quick with a quip. I found his new mildness a welcome relief, truth be told.

Of course it didn't last. Justin and Mr. Upchurch took off in April. In June, Mrs. Kinney told me that a traveler coming up from the growing town of Los Angeles had met up with our artistic friends and had brought letters from Mr. Upchurch and Justin for Mrs. Kinney and Brian, respectively. Mrs. Kinney told me that the traveler had met up with Justin and Mr. Upchurch near Half Moon Bay where they had spent over a month, sketching and painting. Mr. Upchurch had written that they were in the process of packing up their campsite and would continue south towards Monterey shortly.

Brian didn't volunteer anything about what Justin wrote. When I inquired, he shut me up with, "That's for me to know and you to find out." After that I noticed that his wit sharpened considerably. What I couldn't decide was whether that meant Justin was doing well or not.

A couple of weeks later Mrs. Kinney encountered a family traveling south and entrusted them with letters for Justin and Mr. Upchurch. Brian didn't say whether he, too, wrote to Justin, and I didn't ask. As far as I know, that was the last of their correspondence. Certainly Mrs. Kinney never mentioned writing or receiving letters again and Brian…he was a dry well.

BRIAN

The seasons aren't greatly differentiated in San Francisco: January may be mild while a day in August may be quite damp and foggy. You may rise, look out your window, and be unable to see the end of the block, only to have brilliant sun an hour later. The reverse can also happen: a thick fog can roll in at any time and you find yourself maneuvering through a cloud bank. So when I woke up to a glittering blue sky on Thursday, September 22nd, 1887, I was pleased but not ecstatic. I could be treated to a glorious day here, only to find Babylon shrouded in a thick fog when I got to Front Street.

I clattered down the stairs, on my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and perhaps a slice of bread and butter, when I saw Lindsay. She was sitting in the parlor, and she had a man with her. I stopped. She held out her hand to me, and I joined them. She said, "Let me introduce Mr. LeClare." He was a youngish man, in his thirties, I would guess, with a rugged look about him. He stood and we shook hands. I took a chair across from them and cocked an eyebrow at Lindsay.

"Mr. LeClare arrived from Carmel yesterday," Lindsay said. "He brought me a letter from Mr. Upchurch."

The feeling of apprehension I felt as soon as I saw that Lindsay had company got stronger. No letter from Justin: Lindsay would have mentioned it if there had been one. "How is he?" I asked.

Lindsay said, "Perhaps you would like to read it?" She held out several sheets covered in a small, precise handwriting. Not Justin's.

I nodded. "I was just about to leave for the day. Hold on to it and I'll read it later."

Lindsay continued to hold it out. "That's all right. Mr. LeClare came by earlier this morning and left it with me while he did some errands. I've read it."

"That's very kind of you, Lindsay." I stood up. "Thank you for acting as our postman, Mr. LeClare."

He stood up also. "Not at all," he said. He turned to Lindsay and said, "Thank you for your hospitality and help. I hope I can continue to consult with you when I need advice on settling in."

I turned and left for the kitchen. I didn't need to stay for the polite rigmarole that was doubtless going to continue for several more minutes.

Jossie had my cup of coffee ready. I sat at the kitchen table and ran my eyes over the letter. Charlie seemingly felt obliged to tell Lindsay every single thing they'd done since they arrived in Carmel in July…who they'd met, where they stayed, what they'd painted, excursions they'd made…far more than I cared to read about. It wasn't until I got to the bottom of the third page that I came on something of interest:

"I have decided," Charlie wrote, "to go home via Los Angeles. The colony here is breaking up with the advent of the autumn rains, and several of us are planning to go overland to Tulare and there catch the Southern Pacific train to Los Angeles and thence to Yuma, Kansas City, St. Louis, and home. We plan to start for Tulare first thing Monday morning, September 19th."

In other words, by now they would have already left Carmel and might already be in Los Angeles.

Charlie continued, "I am hopeful that Justin will accompany me. As we agreed before I left San Francisco, the sale of his horse should more than cover the cost of his train ticket, and once in New York, he can stay with me as long as he wants."

I stopped and reread the last sentence. "As we agreed before I left San Francisco…." Damn Lindsay, anyway, the finagling bitch…not that I wanted Justin to work his way across the continent again. I didn't give a fuck about the horse nor did I wish to deny Justin the money, but I'd like to have been included in the planning.

I straightened the pages and handed them to Jossie. "You can give this back to Mrs. Kinney. I'm done with it." I went out the back door, calling for John Coachman.

The sun was still shining when I got to Babylon, but I welcomed the dimness inside as more in tune with my mood. I was a bit earlier than usual - Emmett wasn't in yet. Leon was behind the bar. He had all the bottles down off the shelves and was wiping them. He didn't turn around or greet me, and I wondered once again how politic it was to have a surly bartender. Today, however, I didn't care; I didn't want to talk to him or to Emmett or to anyone else. I strode across the room and jerked the door to my office open. Then I stopped in mid-stride, staring are the unexpected sight within.

"Hello," Justin said. "I missed you. It's good to be home."



Sketch of the entrance to San Francisco Bay by J. Taylor
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