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“Did he die here?” Percy asked.
Albie shook his head. “No. He was helping old man Wilcox fell some trees. Wilcox had helped my father a time or two, so he was returning the favour. Most folks around here help out when they can, so it wasn’t unusual. There was an accident when a log came down... They rode him into town, but it was too late.”
“I’m really sorry,” Percy whispered.
“Me too.” Then he sighed. “I can talk about him now without feeling like the log hit me instead of him.” He put his hand to his chest and rubbed the ache that burned. “Still isn’t easy, though. But it helps.”
“I’ll listen, anytime you want to talk.”
Albie gave him a smile. “Thank you.” Then he held up their still-joined hands. “This is another first for me.”
Percy made a face. “It’s not for me, sorry.”
Albie gasped. “Was it the girl you were supposed to marry?”
He gave a nod. “Though I can tell you this is the first time it felt good. The first time it gave me a thrill, and not a lump of dread.”
Albie laughed. “That poor girl.”
“Poor her? What about poor me?”
He turned to face Percy. Still holding his hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Poor you,” he murmured.
Percy’s eyes seemed to darken and he licked his bottom lip. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he whispered.
Albie grinned and kissed Percy’s knuckles again, smiling this time. “And how am I looking at you?”
“Like you want me.”
“I do. In ways I don’t even know.”
“Oh,” he squeaked. “You shouldn’t say such things, Albie.”
Albie couldn’t hardly believe he was saying these things. “Sorry,” he said, lowering their hands but not letting go. “I look at you and my manners disappear.”
“I can tell,” Percy said. There was no bite in his tone though. He looked around the room. “Did you want to pack things away? Or leave them as they are?”
Albie sighed. “Most of it will get packed away, I would think. I’ll keep anything personal or practical. Not that my father kept many personal things. He had some decent coats and woollen socks. Some gloves.”
Percy squeezed Albie’s hand. “Want me to help, or would you rather some alone time?”
Albie met him with a smile. “Company, I think. To keep me moving. So I don’t dwell on every single piece.”
He let go of Albie’s hand and rubbed his arm. “Then let’s start.”
They sorted clothes first, setting aside anything worth keeping. Some were barely fit for rags, or as an undershirt perhaps, or even?—
“Robert and Des might appreciate a look at these,” Percy said, adding a pair of long johns to the pile.
“I was just thinking that,” Albie agreed. “They’re too big for you, but I might have some clothes I no longer fit into.”
“I’m not that much smaller than you,” he said, though he did smirk. Because he was indeed that much smaller. “But I do appreciate the offer.”
“You didn’t bring much with you,” Albie noted.
“I was lucky to leave with my horse,” he replied.
Albie put the shirt he was folding onto the pile and touched Percy’s arm. “I’m so very sorry.”
