Page 55 of Freedom
“I don’t know, Toby. You talking about...” He made a vague circular motion up toward the treetops and the crisp blue sky. “The whole shebang? The church and steeple, hymnbooks and altars and rosaries? ’Cause I’m not sure if you caught on, but the way Dad—the way I grew up, that shit was useful only as far as they helped finish a hunt.”
“No,” Tobias said simply and ducked his head just for a moment before looking back at Jake. “God.”
Jake knew he owed it to Toby to meet his eyes, but he couldn’t. He had to figure this out first because he knew now how much weight Toby put in his words. Far more than they should for anyone, let alone for Toby. If he told him the truth now—that he’d never found a reason to believe there was anything out there looking out for those who mattered (not for Mom, not for you, Toby)—there was too much of a chance that’d be it for Toby too. He might accept that wholesale, just like he did with everything Jake said, even the jokes that Jake had realized ten minutes later he should never have told.
It was bad enough that Toby had never had the safe illusions of childhood or any of the standard security blankets every kid was supposed to have. Forget about Santa Claus; this was believing that your parents would always be watching out for you, that they were invincible. Millions of people, even smart hunters like Alex who had seen firsthand the fucked-up evil in the world, still believed and found comfort in the idea that some kind of godlike being was in control (over what, he wanted to know). If that worked for Toby, Jake couldn’t take that away from him.
“I dunno, Toby,” Jake said finally. “That’s Alex’s area of expertise, not mine.”
Toby gazed at him a moment longer before looking away. Jake had an absurd urge to reach out and touch him, like he could check his faith-temperature or something, make sure he hadn’t just demolished the last chance for belief that Toby might have—though it didn’t seem possible, shouldn’t be possible, that there could be anything left for Jake to destroy, not after what Toby had been through. Jake hoped all the same because what else could he do?
“There could be,” he offered, and sure enough, Toby turned back toward him, hazel eyes so damn smart and trusting. “I mean, I sure as hell haven’t seen all there is to see. And I’m not always fast out of the gate. You shouldn’t rule it out.”
Toby blinked at him slowly, as though taking his measure. His gaze shouldn’t have chilled Jake to the marrow, but he was thankful when Toby returned his attention to where the bridge was leading him.
Thank fuck Toby didn’t have any follow-up. That he didn’t ask again, with that unavoidable directness,What doyoubelieve?
Truth was, there had been a time—less than a year ago, even—when Jake had tried. Really and truly tried to believe in a divine power, because he had dropped off the ASC paperwork into his cousin Leah Dixon’s hands and driven away, and he couldn’t cope with how some human bureaucracy might be the last insurmountable obstacle between him and fulfilling his promise to Tobias. That this huge, indifferent, incomprehensible evil (damn, he hated paperwork) he had no control over had the final say on whether he ever saw Toby again. Whether Toby lived.
And since it hadn’t been too long since Leon had told Jake exactly what he thought of him, and Roger was eyeing him warily like he thought Jake might snap (and Jake wasn’t sure he wouldn’t)—yeah, Jake had been kinda desperate. Willing to give anything a chance. So he had tried, in those empty yawning nights when the universe seemed depthless and indifferent, when the sheer act of prayer seemed defiant to reason. He had prayed, yeah. Tried to do it every day, though maybe sometimes those prayers took the form of a bottle or a bullet, because this was more important than anything he had ever done, more important than his own life, and he didn’t know how not to fuck it up. He had nothing to lose except everything. Maybe whatever was on the receiving end of those desperate pleas and promises understood anyway, because they’d come through: he’d gotten Toby.
Hehadgotten Toby, and that should have answered all his prayers, right? Proof right there of the benevolent creator, because Jake Hawthorne had gotten what he’d wanted.
Except by the time he’d gotten Toby home, he knew nothing was going to be like he’d expected, and that even Toby was a different person entirely from the one he remembered. Even before Jake had seen the scars on his skin, he’d begun to realize things had happened to Tobias that Jake might never be able to deal with—as though Jake’s fucking feelings were at all important when he was responsible for the most broken, terrified kid he’d ever seen. Broken in ways he could still barely comprehend. And he was supposed to acknowledge there was some god who’d allowed Toby to endure that? Yeah, Jake would rather believe there was fuck all out there than that.
“Okay,” Toby said. He sounded thoughtful, but not like Jake had broken the last piece of him that could hope. “I won’t.”
When his fingers closed around Jake’s, strong and shy, his anchor and his heartbeat, Jake knew that was probably the closest he would get to faith.
~*~
Alex announced thatnight that she needed to make an overnight trip to a sister church in Tucson, and while she invited them to stay at her place for the rest of the week and check out the Sunday service, both Jake and Tobias knew it was time to go.
“Well, you’d better swing by every now and then,” she said, shaking both of their hands. “You’ve got my number, don’t be afraid to use it. And the abuelas will be hurt if you go too long before visiting, Tobito.”
Tobias’s face went pink, and he looked down, but Jake caught his grin.
They packed the next morning, and Jake took their bags out to the Eldorado while Toby did one last check over the apartment for anything they might have missed. Jake came back in to find him dawdling by the kitchenette counter, looking at the notepad and pen they had found there.
At Jake’s inquiring look, Toby said slowly, “I was thinking... we could write her a note to say thank you. A thank-you note.”
“Sure,” Jake said, startled. It hadn’t occurred to him, but he shouldn’t have expected any less of Toby. “You want a shot at it?”
Tobias nodded, picking up the pen.
Dear Alex,
Thank you very much for letting us into your home and giving us good meals. We had a nice time, and I liked making tamales with the abuelas and helping you with your garden.
Sincerely,
Tobias and Jake Hawthorne
