Page 43 of The Voice of Wild Places
Watt swallowed.Stammering a little, he said, “I—I believe what I was trying to say was my—my aventurier.I’m not the best at writing in French, and it w—was … disorienting, over there.”
Oh, hell.Cornelius’ heart was on the verge of collapse.
He wasn’t sure how it began, but their joined hands drifted from his jaw to the space between their chests.Watt stared at him with such intent, Cornelius thought he was about to be kissed.But no, Watt didn’t feel like that about him.They were simply feeling familiar, vulnerable.
That was all.
Cornelius smiled.“Oh.”
Watt’s fingers tightened around Cornelius.“For what it’s worth, I think we would’ve been friends back then.”
Barely audible, Cornelius said, “Me too.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Can I ask you something else, first?About the letters.”
“Yes.”
“Who …” Cornelius wasn't sure why it mattered, only that it did.He had to know.“Who is Cher Ami?What was she like?”
Watt blinked in surprise, then a smile crested his lips.“Oh.Cher Ami.I'd nearly forgotten about him, although I'm not sure how.He saved our lives, you know.God, those days were a mess.One miscommunication and inflated ego after another led us into such chaos that eventually we were being fired upon by our own troops.The artillery.”Watt's smile faded, and he sighed.“There were eight others, but only Cher Ami made it back, with the message and in bad shape.He lost a leg, and suffered a chest wound that later turned fatal.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry.”Cornelius immediately regretted asking.There had been a letter from Watt after he'd made it out of there, pages upon pages of which were filled with mostly incoherent scribbles focusing on someone named Cher Ami.The emotion behind his words had been nearly enough to make Cornelius crack.He'd always assumed Cher Ami was a woman, but the French always were the more interesting sort.Once again, he wished that he'd buried his pride and written Watt back.
“He lived a good life, and did his duty.I visited him a few years back, actually.It's … odd, seeing him on display like that.But at least others can learn about him, I suppose.”
“Oh?”Cornelius asked, confused.
Watt frowned.“At the Smithsonian.”
“I … think something has been lost in translation here.”Cornelius tried.
Understanding dawned on Watt's face, and he chuckled quietly.“Cher Ami was a messenger pigeon, not a human.”
“Oh.”Cornelius' cheeks immediately flushed.“Oh.That—that makes much more sense.”
Their soft laughter filled the room, and a giddy sort of feeling rose in Cornelius' chest.Watt playfully hushed him when Severino's snores changed tempo, and they smiled at each other.After a few moments, Watt said, “Do I get to ask my question now?”
Cornelius nodded.“Yes, of course.”
“Why Sawyer?”
The atmosphere shifted from quiet joy to grief.Cornelius closed his eyes on reflex.He swallowed against his leaping heart, then said, “For Papa.Sawyer … it pays homage to him and his work.I won't be carrying on the family name, but this is—it's a way for me to be close to him.To where I come from.”
“Oh,” Watt said.“Oh, Cornelius.”
Watt moved closer.Cornelius, quite sure he was not reading the situation correctly, remained still.He was glad for his second intuition, for Watt merely brought their foreheads together.They could have kissed.It would have been so easy.Neither of them seemed to be breathing, but Cornelius knew he had to be because his heart was racing a million miles an hour.
But they only laid together.Quiet, hands entangled between them.Foreheads pressed together and noses aligned.There was nothing romantic about it, not really.And yet, Cornelius had never felt more intimately touched in his life.They lay there in the moonlight, Severino’s snores and the distant sounds of a city at night lulling them into a sense of ease.Of comfort.
Cornelius had started to drift off to sleep when Watt murmured, “You know, I do remember you telling me stories.I wish I remembered the rest, I really do.But I’m convinced listening to you got me through it, you know.I always thought you’d become a writer some day, or an actor.”
Cornelius chuckled.“No, it’s as you say.I was born to be an aventurier.But a man can be good at many things.”
“Thank you, Cornelius.”Watt grinned, and Cornelius thought he could almost feel it.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Cornelius whispered.
