Winter Oranges

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Dylan hesitated. Finally took a step forward and put his hand against Jason’s cheek. He leaned down and kissed him gently. “Tell me again that we’re okay.”

  “We’re fine. I promise.”

  “And all that stuff you said on the phone, about never wanting to see me again?”

  “I didn’t want you to show up and think I was nuts. But I’d miss you like crazy.”

  “Okay. You know I love you, right?”

  “I know. And I love you too.”

  “Yeah,” Dylan said softly, and for the first time ever, Jason detected a note of regret in Dylan’s voice. “But not like you used to.”

  “No,” Jason admitted. “Not like before.”

  “But we’re still friends?”

  “More than ever.”

  Dylan nodded and kissed Jason again, first his forehead, then the tip of nose, and finally his mouth. His lips lingered on Jason’s, as if he were afraid to step away. “That’s good,” he said at last. “I can live with that.”

  “So can I,” Jason whispered to himself as Dylan let himself out of the room. It was nice, knowing he could finally really accept the only thing Dylan had ever offered in the first place: friendship. “So can I.”

  Once he knew to ask for John Doe instead of Benjamin Ward, Jason had no trouble getting info on Ben. The nurse who brought his lunch said John Doe was in the room right next door. She also confirmed what Dylan had told him: Ben had awoken once but immediately had such a severe panic attack, the doctors had chosen to sedate him.

  She shrugged. “Hopefully he’ll be calmer this time.”

  There was no way to explain to the nurse how alarming the entire incident must be for Ben. “Can I go to his room? I think it’ll help if I’m there.”

  “Absolutely. You can even try to wake him up if you want. It’s almost time anyway.”

  Jason eyed his lunch plate. He wasn’t hungry, but after a hundred and fifty years, Ben probably would be.

  The remnants of the globe sat in a jumble on the rolling table in Ben’s room. Ben was still asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. And for the first time, Jason noted color in Ben’s cheeks, a soft-pink tinge against his sickly pallor. He really did look like Sleeping Beauty. With the help of modern medicine and a bit of sunlight, he’d be absolutely stunning.

  “Hey,” Jason said softly, kissing Ben’s forehead. “You can wake up now.”

  Ben’s eyelids flickered and slowly drifted open. His gaze landed on the bank of monitors by the bed. He turned slowly, his eyes wide, until his gaze landed on Jason.

  “Is this real?”

  “It is.”

  Ben closed his eyes and put his hand over his chest. “Oh my God,” he breathed. Not in surprise or joy or wonder, but in fear. His breathing became rapid. The beeps from the heart monitor sped up.

  “Hey,” Jason soothed, stroking Ben’s arm. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine.”

  “No, it isn’t. I don’t want to wake up. I wish I could sleep forever.”

  It was the last thing Jason had expected to hear. “Why would you want that?” he asked, taking Ben’s hand. “It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”

  Ben shook his head. His chin trembled, and he pulled his hand away to cover his face. “I’m not fine. I’m going crazy. I can smell everything. I can taste everything! I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t handle it. I can taste the air, Jason, and it’s horrible. Even when I was sleeping, I felt bombarded, like I couldn’t get away from all the sensations!” He shuddered. “A hundred and fifty years I’ve dreamed of escaping that place, and now . . .” He laughed in a way that spoke more of heartbreak than humor. “I can’t handle it! I’m already going mad.”

  “No, you’re not.” Jason scooped him up and held him close, cradling him in his arms, and Ben nestled closer, his whole body trembling. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but you’re not going mad. You’re overwhelmed. It’s completely understandable after spending so long in the globe with no sounds and no smells. But you’ll get your bearings soon.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “You will. I promise. Just relax. You lived in the real world for nearly twenty-one years, remember?”

  Ben’s laugh was heart-wrenching. “I guess I did. And it probably smelled a lot worse there than here.”

  “Probably.” Jason held him for several long minutes, rubbing his back and making soothing sounds until Ben’s breathing slowed to normal, and his muscles softened as he calmed down. “Everything’s going to be fine,” Jason assured him quietly. “Maybe instead of focusing on the scary parts, you can try to focus on the good parts.”

  Ben’s arms tightened around Jason’s chest. “Like this?”

  “Exactly.”

  Ben laughed, sounding a bit more sincere this time. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I was about to say the same thing to you.”

  Ben wiped his cheeks and drew back a bit to meet Jason’s eyes. “What happened? I remember him throwing the globe down, but after that . . .”

  “The glass cracked. It was small, but it was enough that water leaked out. You started screaming. I didn’t know what was happening, except you were calling for help—”

  “I was dying. That’s all I knew, that I was dying, and after so many years of wishing it would happen, I suddenly wanted nothing more than to keep living, even if it meant staying trapped. But then . . .” Ben shuddered, holding one hand over his chest. “The next thing I remember, I was being lifted into the ambulance. What happened? What did you do?”

  Jason remembered that moment, being overwhelmed by grief and horror, clutching the snow globe in his hands. He picked up the base and hefted it, wondering at how light and insubstantial it was without the globe attached. “I felt so helpless, sitting there knowing you were in trouble, knowing I could never get to you in time, and then I saw it.”

  “Saw what?”

  Jason handed him the base of the globe and pointed to the letters on the bottom. “I thought at first they were just random scratches, but once I saw it in the shifting light, I realized those scratches were deliberate. You said if your sister had left instructions, they would have been clear, and you were right. She tried to change the first two letters of ‘shake.’”

  Ben turned the base this way and that, studying the faint letters. After a moment, comprehension dawned and with it, a sarcastic smile. “‘Brake globe’? B-R-A-K-E? Are you telling me I was trapped in that place for a hundred and fifty years because my sister didn’t know how to spell?”

  Jason laughed. “Well, even if she’d spelled it right, it’s unlikely any of the previous owners would have followed the instructions.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “At least we know she tried. And the truth is, if I hadn’t been so desperate, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to smash it anyway. I would have been too worried about losing you.”

  Ben shook his head in wonder. “And we owe it all to Dylan.”

  “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  Ben set the globe aside and met Jason’s eyes hesitantly. “Have you seen him?”

  “Yes. For what it’s worth, he’s incredibly penitent. I think you’ll be able to hold this over his head for the rest of our lives.”

  Ben’s laugh seemed fragile, but sincere. “Good idea. I think I will. I think I—” He gasped, clapping his hands to his cheeks in surprise. Tears welled up in his eyes, but Jason knew by Ben’s tentative smile that these were tears of joy. “The rest of my life. Oh my God. My life, Jason! A real life!”

  “Yes.” Jason leaned forward and kissed him. “Starting now. Perfect timing too. You know what day it is?”

  Ben glanced around, his smile growing as it dawned on him. “It’s Christmas!”

  “It is.” Jason reached over to the rolling table and picked up the gift he’d brought. He held it out to Ben. “The doctor says liquids only, but luckily,
this counts. Merry Christmas.”

  Ben stared down at the little plastic cup filled with Jell-O. He laughed in delight and sang, “‘See it wiggle. See it jiggle.’”

  Maybe Ben had gone mad. “What?”

  “The commercials! Don’t you remember?” He lifted the cup to his nose and sniffed. His stomach grumbled audibly in response, and Ben clapped his hand over it. “Oh my gosh. I’m hungry! I forgot how it feels.” He looked toward the table. “Is there a spoon?”

  “Of course.”

  Jason handed it to him and watched as Ben scooped up the first bit and slowly put it in his mouth. His eyes drifted shut as he savored it. “Mmmm.” He finally swallowed and smiled broadly at Jason. “It’s delicious! What flavor is it?”

  “Orange.”

  Ben’s smile turned into a comical frown. “It doesn’t taste like oranges at all.”

  “That’s because they used summer oranges. They taste different than those winter kind.”

  “Ha! Now who’s being a brat?”

  Whether it tasted like oranges or not, Ben wasn’t dissuaded. He made quick work of the Jell-O, and Jason’s stomach began to growl too as he watched Ben eat. Maybe he was hungrier than he’d realized. “Are you going to share?”

  Ben hugged the nearly empty Jell-O to his chest and shook his head. “No way.” He crooked his finger at Jason. “But you can still taste it if you like.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Ben’s lips were cool to the touch, his tongue sweet, and Jason pulled him close, wishing they were anywhere but in a hospital. Seeing how happy Ben was over a tiny cup of Jell-O, Jason was anxious to get him out into the real world.

  “You know, I almost envy you. You get to experience everything brand new. Roller coasters and Star Wars and Las Vegas. Tiramisu and root beer floats and pepperoni pizza and—”

  “And chocolate chip cookies? I’ve always wanted to try one.”

  “God, yes. Chocolate chips cookies as soon as possible. Although the rest of the world is pretty much downhill from there.”

  Ben laughed, then leaned forward to kiss him again. “Will you mind sharing your house with me, now that I actually take up space?”

  “Not a bit. Honestly, I was a bit worried you wouldn’t want to stay.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “It made sense to hang out with me when I was the only person who could see you. Now you’ll have a whole world full of men to choose from.”

  “A world full of men who will all think I’ve lost my marbles if I so much as tell them my birthday.”

  “Fair point.” He studied Ben’s face, his gaze lingering on his lips. The globe had granted them a certain amount of intimacy, but there was one thing Jason longed for, more than anything. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you in bed.”

  Ben blushed, lowering his long lashes over his blue eyes. He set the Jell-O aside and wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Take me home?”

  “Just as soon as I can.”

  “I love October!”

  “I remember you telling me it’s your favorite month.” And October in West Virginia was especially lovely, Jason had to admit. Still, he tried not to laugh. He kept his head down and his expression somber as they entered the cemetery in case somebody spotted him and snapped a picture. Photographers didn’t hound him as much these days. They seemed to find him far less interesting now that he’d quit hiding. Still, his privacy was never guaranteed, even though the cemetery was deserted, and he felt he shouldn’t be seen having too grand of a time in a place where people were buried.

  Ben, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He practically skipped between the rows of stones, his face lit with a broad smile, his formerly white skin tanned to a pale bronze. “It’s so beautiful here!”

  Jason looked around at the rolling expanse of grass. They were in one of the older sections of the graveyard. The markers had undoubtedly once stood in straight, even rows, but now they listed every which way, leaning together as if to share the latest bit of news. Some were small and simple, other large and ornate. Many were crumbling or chipped or showed signs of water damage. None were adorned with flowers. “It is strangely picturesque, isn’t it? It has atmosphere.”

  “It’s absolutely perfect.”

  Jason smiled. He’d learned over the last ten months that almost nothing could bring Ben down. Yes, he’d had trouble adjusting to the low rise of modern pants, and he wasn’t particularly fond of the dentist. And they’d had a few weeks’ worth of worry before the trip to Mexico, thinking they’d be unable to get Ben a passport, but Dylan had come through for them. He’d turned up with a packet full of counterfeit papers. Jason didn’t know where they’d come from, and he didn’t care. All he knew was that he was happier than he’d ever been, and if he had Dylan to thank for that, then so be it.

  “After this, can we go to that apple orchard we passed on the road back there?” Ben asked. “I’d really love to pick some apples.”

  “Apples next, I promise. You can pick a whole bushel if you want.”

  It certainly was a perfect day for it, warm and pleasant, and everywhere they looked, the trees were bursting with orange and gold. Filming in Mexico had lasted until July. They’d gone home to Idaho for a bit, but Ben was restless, ready to see more of the world—not that Jason could blame him—so they’d bought a convertible and hit the road, their only plan being to travel until November, when Jason had to report to LA for a small supporting role in a romantic comedy Natalie had found for him. They’d driven down the Pacific coast, cut over to Vegas, made the long haul across southern Utah and spent several weeks exploring the Rockies before turning south. They’d been at Café Du Monde in New Orleans eating beignets and sipping cafés au lait when Linda Casteel called.

  “I found Sarah,” she’d said. “She’s buried in West Virginia.”

  In truth, Jason had all but forgotten that Linda was still trying to chase down his and Ben’s shared lineage. He listened with only half an ear as she explained how she’d traced one of Jason’s great-great-great-grandmothers on his father’s side back to a Sarah Miller who had died in Huntington, West Virginia in 1899. It hadn’t taken her long to find the marriage records and determine that Sarah Miller was indeed Ben’s sister, Sarah Elizabeth Ward. And now here they were, on their way to her grave.

  “It should be this row.” Jason turned and pointed to the right. “About twenty stones down.”

  He’d just reached the third grave when he heard a dull thunk behind him, followed by a muffled “Ouch.” He turned to find Ben leaning on an elaborate marker, rubbing his knee.

  “Did you just run over an angel?”

  Ben still sometimes forgot he couldn’t walk through everything in sight, and he occasionally became so enamored of their surroundings that he forgot to look where he was going. He’d nearly knocked himself unconscious running into signs and trees on more than one occasion, but he handled his new clumsiness with the same good grace he handled everything else. He grinned at Jason. “At least she was only knee height. It could have been a lot worse.”

  Jason laughed, shaking his head. “Come on. We’re almost there. Linda said the person she spoke to told her the headstone had an unusual inscription that we might want to see for ourselves.” He glanced over at Ben. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Not really. I am hungry though. I think I want barbecue.”

  “You’re insatiable. It’s completely unfair that you’re still as thin as you are.”

  “I’ve gained ten pounds since I came out of the globe!”

  “Yeah, and so have I. It’d be twice that much if I hadn’t started jogging every day.”

  “It’s really more like every third day.”

  “Close enough. Anyway, I thought you wanted apples. Why the sudden urge for barbecue?”

  “Dylan told me about this place in Charleston. He says we can’t leave t
he state until we’ve eaten there.”

  Jason shook his head as he scanned the stones for Sarah’s name. It seemed Ben talked to Dylan more than Jason did these days, but Jason didn’t mind. Somehow they’d become fast friends during their stay in Mexico, and Dylan seemed to live for the chance to introduce Ben to new foods. “He does have a knack for knowing the best places to eat.”

  “Maybe barbecue first, and then apples for dessert?”

  “Whatever you want to do. You know I can’t ever say no to you.” He put out a hand to stop Ben before he ran into another stone. “Here it is.”

  It was a double headstone marking two side by side graves, with the last name Miller engraved across the top. Her husband, Franklin Jonathan Miller, was on the left. And on the right . . .

  “Oh my God,” Ben breathed. “I don’t believe it.”

  The headstone read:

  Sarah Elizabeth Ward Miller

  September 9, 1837 – March 3, 1899

  And below that, three simple words:

  BREAK THE GLOBE

  “She left instructions here too,” Jason said.

  “And she even spelled it right.”

  Ben had explained multiple times how he’d grieved for his family long ago. He didn’t want to look back. And yet now, he grew somber. Jason put his arm around Ben’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Are you okay?”

  “I am. It’s just . . . all this time, I’ve wondered if I’d still be in there. I’ve wondered, if it hadn’t been for Dylan, if I would have been in that globe forever. But now I know.” He smiled hesitantly at Jason. “I would have been free today.” He glanced around at the autumn glory surrounding them. “It would have been here.”

  “Yes,” Jason conceded. “But you weren’t breathing when you came out, and I wouldn’t have had the paramedics here to save you.” His heart clenched at the thought. “I might have lost you, and I never would have forgiven myself.”

  “All thanks to Dylan.” Ben leaned his head against Jason’s shoulder. “Let’s not tell him though. I like it better, having him feel a bit guilty.”