Page 55 of Sparring Partners
The path grew narrower as they made their way through the wood, rising before dropping down again. The sun shone down, the light dappled through the canopy of red and gold leaves, some of which floated down to the ground in the soft breeze. Birds chirruped, and small creatures rustled around in the undergrowth. Each time Luca had asked where they were going, he’d answered with nothing more than a smile.
“Here.” Adrian stopped so suddenly, Luca crashed into him.
“Here — what?” Luca narrowed his eyes as he surveyed their surroundings, with no clue as to what to look for.
“I wanted to show you why the farm’s called Ladywell. Other than me, and some of the very oldest residents of the village, I don’t think anybody knows about this anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Adrian started to pull aside the branches and stems of a large bush.
“What’s that?” Luca peered over Adrian’s shoulder as a small, stone dome with a moss covered wooden door was revealed.
“The Lady’s Well, which the farm took its name from centuries ago.”
Luca’s lips parted in surprise, and he moved forward to get a better look. “Are we still on your land?”
Beneath Luca’s gaze, a wave of pride washed over Adrian. Pride in the land, in the farm, and the part his family had played, generation after generation. Pride, yet tinged with sadness for refusing to acknowledge the roots he’d once only wanted to run from.
“No. The farm used to be a lot bigger, and included this part of the wood. Piece by piece, over time, parcels of land were sold off, including where we are now.”
“You’ve deep roots here. I envy that, because what I know about even my grandparents can be written on the back of a stamp.”
“It took me long enough to appreciate and value it. Look.” Adrian tugged at the door, which opened up with a moan of protest, revealing the top of a stone well.
Luca peered down into the blackness, and sniffed. “I thought it’d smell bad, but it doesn’t. Just wet earth and leaves.” He cocked his head to the side. “Is that the flow of water I can hear?”
“Yes. This well taps into one of the many underground water courses. Wouldn’t advise drinking it, though, but this place was never about drawing water to drink or wash with. It was devotional.”
“Like a shrine?”
“Exactly. It was dedicated to a local saint, although who she was has long been forgotten. But this was a holy place for centuries before the area was Christianised. The well goes back into pre-history, and would have been where a water or woodland spirit dwelt. This place, it…” The words dried on his tongue.
“Adrian? Are you okay?” Luca stepped back from the well and rested a hand on Adrian’s chest, concern in his voice and in his eyes, as he moved his palm in slow, light circles. “It means something to you. Something important, so much more than a local, forgotten curiosity, or a reminder of how long your family’s been rooted in the land.”
“Yeah.” Adrian coughed, trying to clear the roughness at the back of his throat. “My gran, you remember I told you how close I was to her, she’d bring me here when I was a kid. She had so many stories about the well, and the woods, too. Older than time, reaching back to before the ancestors, is what she used to say. The well, she said, was a place of magic. Mum, Dad, Richard, they always laughed, said it was all old wives’ tales. They never came here, but I did, because my gran was right in a way. Maybe it wasn’t magic, but it cast its spell on me.”
“How do you mean?”
Adrian leant into Luca’s touch. The warmth of Luca’s hand through the fabric of his shirt, the steady, rhythmic circling, eased a heart rate that had climbed too high, too fast.
“I feel a bit stupid, talking about magic.” He laughed, but the sound was wooden and forced. “I’m making too much of it. I just wanted to show you it, that’s all. Come on, let’s?—”
“No.” Luca caught his hand, pulling him to a stop in mid turn. “What’s stupid? Everybody needs their own private magic, whether it’s a place, or a book, or a piece of music, or anything else. Something that brings both joy and comfort, even if nobody else can understand why. I’d like to know why this place affects you so much. Here.” Luca pressed his hand over Adrian’s heart. Adrian covered it with his own, gazing down at their hands as their fingers intertwined. He looked up and met Luca’s steady, compassionate eyes.
“Coming here became my refuge,” he said slowly, feeling his way through the words that would never truly even begin to explain why the well meant so much to him. “Whenever I was in trouble as a kid, at home or at school — which happened a lot — I’d come here to get away from it all. When I got older, when the arguments and antagonism between me and my parents got worse, after my brother betrayed and destroyed all my trust and belief in him, this was where I’d run to. To think, to rage, sometimes even to scream.
“I came here when I returned for the funerals, to think about where I was going with my life, never believing for a moment I’d be back again so soon. When Richard was killed, I even slept out here overnight. It sounds crazy, and it was in some ways, but when I woke up freezing cold and damp from dew, my head was clearer than it had been in years. I had a clear plan of where I was going and the life I was determined to lead.”
Luca cupped his hands to Adrian’s face, his thumbs stroking over the dark scruff that he never seemed able, quite, to completely shave away. Closing his eyes, Adrian pushed into the warmth and comfort of Luca’s touch.
“You must think I’d lost my mind,” he murmured.
“I think you were a man who had some big decisions to make. So why wouldn’t you choose to make them in a place that meant so much to you?”
“Some of the most important decisions I’ve ever had to make have been made here. Accepting who I was. Leaving home. Acknowledging and committing to my birthright, to the farm. Admitting to myself I was never going to have a life with Sam.” He drew in a deep breath, taking a moment because Luca needed to know. “I never brought Sam here,” he said quietly. “I never even told him about it. But—but I couldn’tnotbring you. Because you’re important to me, Luca. You’re—you’re more important than anybody or anything has ever been.”
Lips met lips in the sweetest, slowest, most heartfelt kiss. Above them crows cawed as they wheeled in the deep blue sky. A warm breeze rustled through the canopy, showering them in a fall of golden leaves as each held tight to the other, their hearts beating as one in a perfect, steady rhythm, next to the well that was older than time.
