Page 14 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius shifted his attention away from the minute changes in Horace’s expression, and took to admiring his waistcoat.All of his clothing, for that matter.The man always dressed fantastically, the picture of a gentleman.He made it look even easier than Watt did, albeit less handsomely.
After staring at the man for what felt like much too long, Cornelius’ gaze traveled to the confines of Horace’s office.Beautiful Japanese paintings framed by elaborate golden frames hung on the walls, along with a few tapestries.Not only was Horace the Director of the University Museum, but he was Chief of the Division of Far Eastern Art as well, and he loved it all with a passion.
Cornelius never had the honor of doing work out there, but he always wished to.First it was Alaska, his very first work for the Penn Museum with Shotridge, then Ur at the behest of Dr.Gordon, the Director of the Museum at the time.Then he was in Peru with Mateo, and Colombia with Mason.Peru especially stole his heart, but it was far more dangerous than anywhere else he’d been.Greedy white men had long violated the natural treasures of the south and continued to do so, but there was a cruelty to the rubber gangs that Cornelius never experienced before.
If it wasn’t rubber and quinine in Peru, it was silver and tin in Bolivia, or coffee and cocoa from Brazil.And those were only the big players, not to mention the abundance of other resources South America had to offer.
Until now Cornelius hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to return to the depths of South America, see for himself how the southern regions compared to the north.If Fawcett’s journals were anything to go by, they were two sides of the same coin, albeit lending more love to Brazil and her people than Bolivia or elsewhere.
Cornelius opened his mouth to say something,anything, when Horace straightened out the stack of papers with a singularclack, then set them aside.He folded his hands in front of him on the desk and leveled Cornelius with a concerned expression.“I must say, Dr.Sawyer.I’m surprised you took Mrs.Fawcett up on her offer.Are you sure you’re up for this?”He gave Cornelius a very pointed once over.
While Cornelius’ faults were obvious, he didn’t care to be so plainly wanting.Cornelius nodded curtly.“I am familiar with the risks, and have accepted them.This is too important an endeavor to let pass by, as was made clear to me by Mrs.Fawcett.”
Horace’s lip twitched, and his eyes hardened in the way schoolgirls did before they slit you from carotid to femoral with nothing more than clever, sharp words.“Well, you don’t truly believe Fawcett is alive, do you?”
“I do,” Cornelius said, unsure whether he truly did or not.He added, “And Mrs.Fawcett was under the impression you did as well.”
Horace smiled, and in it lay the cruel truth.“I’m afraid I didn’t have the heart to tell a grieving widow otherwise, and I thought if anyone here could set her straight, it would be you.”
Cornelius was stunned.“You expected me to say no.”
Horace spread his hands.“Indeed, and you can see the predicament you’ve put me in now that you’ve said otherwise.”
“Or you could say yes, and be in no predicament at all.”Cornelius grasped at another angle.“There’s hardly anything to lose, but everything to be gained.If I find Fawcett, or his lost city, and do so on the University’s behalf?The boons would be astronomical.”
“Nothing to lose but money we don’t have, and who will finish your classes for the semester?”Horace countered, but the sternness had fled his brow.He sighed and said, “You are not as easily replaceable as you might think, Dr.Sawyer.And if youarefeeling up to the field again, might you return to Ur as has been requested?Or with Mason, even.”
Cornelius grit his teeth, sidesteppingthatdiscussion.“If I may, Miss Mazur is more than an adequate substitute in my place.She is familiar with the coursework, and willing.She’s assured me it will not interfere with her duties.”
Horace pulled a face, and Cornelius moved in for the final blow before the man could get another word in.“I understand your reservations, but I truly believe this expedition will yield good results, even if we don’t find Fawcett.The site they’ve established in Mato Grosso is substantial, and so are the finds there.If Brazil is offering us a way in, we should take it before they cut us out entirely.And say we do find Fawcett.Well, you wouldn’t want to be the man that passed on that opportunity, would you?”
Horace sighed, sliding the papers across his desk.He stood and offered Cornelius his hand.“Not like I’ve got much choice, do I?”
Cornelius stood and shook the man’s hand.“You’ve made the right one.”
Giovanni was waiting for him when he returned home.
The phonograph was on, playing the blues.Giovanni put out his cigarette and rose from his place on the couch, dressed in his tailor's version of himself.Grey straight-legged trousers and an evening blue jacket over a cream sweater that Cornelius knew to be soft.His hair was slicked back, longer and darker than Cornelius' own.Hells, he was handsome.During the week, Giovanni worked with his family crafting quality Italian pieces for men and women alike, their business a lucky one for it resonated with the upper class who weren't hit as hard as the lower classes had been by the economy.His passion for clothes was nearly as strong as his passion for music, a fact that they had bonded over.
Truly, they had been good together.Better than he and Andrea had ever been, or any of his previous partners.They lived together without issue, and the biggest complaint Cornelius had was that Giovanni cooked too well.So of course Cornelius had sabotaged their relationship, like everything else good in his life.He wasn't on the lease to Giovanni's beautiful, if not small, apartment.The only thing that kept him there was Giovanni's good will and pity, because he was that kind of a guy.Despite his fuck up, Giovanni insisted they remain friends.If times had been better, Cornelius would've packed up his pride and his things and found somewhere else to live.
Giovanni smiled at Cornelius standing just inside the door, briefcase in one hand and cane in the other.He said, “Hello.”
“Hi,” Cornelius said, breaking out of his fugue.He crossed to the dining room table, depositing his briefcase upon it.It was heavier than usual, but not unbearable.Cornelius grimaced at the slight amount of time he had to get fit.Three weeks was nothing, especially when much of it would be travel time for him.
“How was your day?”Giovanni asked, joining his side.He smiled, but the tightness at the corners of his eyes betrayed him.He was worried.
The moment struck Cornelius, the fact he had someone to come home to that cared about him and wanted to know how his day went.Someone who truly knew him, and that Cornelius could be himself with.Someone who worried about him.He steeled himself.There was no use in prolonging the inevitable.He said, “Horace said yes.He agreed to Esther taking over my classes, and gave me his blessing.He’s not pleased about it, but he said yes.”
Giovanni’s dark brows rose.“Really?That's wonderful news.”He reached for Cornelius’ hands, allowing him to close the distance.Cornelius slipped his fingers between Giovanni’s, gripping tight.He didn't step closer yet, though.
Cornelius blinked.“Really?”
Giovanni chuckled.“Were you hoping I’d say otherwise?”
Cornelius shrugged.He'd thought for sure that the steadfast and logical Giovanni would’ve convinced him to stay.He might’ve welcomed the effort.“No, not all.I’m just … I don’t know.Need to hear your honest thoughts.Am I doing the right thing?”
Giovanni’s eyes softened.“I won’t lie, I’m terrified for you.And if I thought I stood half a chance, I’d ask you to reconsider.But I’ve seen how you warred with this decision and the toll it took on you, and it’s plain that you’ve given it some serious thought.”
