Authors: Z. A. Maxfield
Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #LGBT WWII-era Historical
Secret Light (22 page)
“Your secrets are safe with me. You know that?”
“Yes. Like yours are safe with me.”
Ben leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Rafe sighed and melted into his body,
letting him seal everything they had together into a bargain in his heart.
Their secrets were safe. They’d keep them safe together, but in his heart, he knew.
This man is no killer.
Rafe had seen evil, and Ben didn’t possess it. If he’d succumbed to a second’s worth
of hesitation, in the end Rafe knew he did the right thing.
I know you’re a good man, Ben
Morgan. I will never believe the worst of you, even if you believe it of yourself.
Ben broke their kiss, and Rafe smiled as love-drunk, heart-stopping happiness hit
him.
Ben. Oh, verdammt! I’m in love with you.
“Speaking of which.” Ben picked up the package he’d been wrapping. He held it a
little too long before he handed it over. “I have a present for you.”
“For now?”
Ben nodded. “Now is the perfect time, right here, when it’s just the two of us.
Hidden from the world.” He’d wrapped it in simple white paper, stamped with trees
and tied with a red ribbon. It was large, like a shoebox, and heavy. When Rafe gave it
an experimental shake, it clanked like metal.
“What can it be?” Rafe grinned as he untied the bow. When he’d carefully removed
the paper and lifted the lid, he looked into the box. “Ben?”
“It’s a menorah. Well, for Hanukkah, it’s called something else, I think.”
“A Hanukkiya.” Rafe stared at the silver candelabra.
“See? Nine stations, eight for the Hanukkah lights representing the miracle of the
oil, and the ninth—the
Shamash
—to serve them and give light.”
“What on earth? How do you know that?”
“I went to the library.”
“But Hanukkah is over.”
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“I know. There’s more.”
Rafe dug around in the tissue paper and found a pair of silver candlesticks and a
kiddush cup, the kind his mother used to welcome the Sabbath.
“The menorah is for Hanukkah, even though it’s over for this year, and the
candlesticks and cup are for—”
“I know what they’re for.” Rafe’s throat burned. “I don’t practice my religion
anymore. I don’t—”
“But I thought Hanukkah commemorates the rededication of the temple, right?”
“Yes.”
“I read the story of the Maccabean revolt. The temple was defiled, and it had to be
cleansed and rededicated to…” Ben paused. “You don’t say
God
, do you?”
“
Hashem
.”
“Right. Hashem. So don’t you think maybe that’s a good thing? When something or
someone has been touched by evil? A rededication?”
“So I am the temple?”
“I just wish I had the right words here, honey.” Ben’s green eyes glowed with an
intensity Rafe had never seen. “When I met you, I felt things I’ve never felt before, with
anyone. I knew I could be myself with you. You’ve allowed me into your home and
your life. I feel safe. I feel loved. Am I right about that?”
Rafe couldn’t find his voice, so he nodded.
Very much loved.
“Maybe you’re
my
sacred temple. So I wanted to give you the same thing. I want to
make it safe for you to be yourself. I want all of you. I want to honor your ancestors and
your parents and their sacrifice. I want to light the Sabbath candles with you. I want to
pray with you and share your grief and the loss you’ve suffered.”
Rafe heard Ben’s words from what seemed like a very great distance. He cracked
into a million pieces deep inside, where no one could know, except—somehow—Ben,
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who restored Rafe’s pride and his faith and his innocence with the gift of silver
candlesticks.
Ben knows. He knows, and he loves me anyway.
“Something awful happened to you, honey.” Ben gathered Rafe into his arms. “But
there’s still light. Your faith. Your family. They can be here with us, in the light of these
rituals. Do you see what I’m saying?”
“We’re supposed to put the Hanukkiya in the window to show our faith. I don’t
know if I can. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to tell the world who I am.”
“Start with me, Rafe. I want to know all of you. I want to share your faith with you.
Start with me because I love you, and I have secrets of my own.”
Rafe gazed at Ben, letting everything he wasn’t ready to say show in his eyes. His
heart was so full. It wasn’t dawn yet, but already it was the best day of his entire life.
“Here.” Rafe pushed a small package toward Ben.
“For me?”
“Yes.” Rafe had never felt so ridiculous. “Open it.”
“What is it?” In a couple of rips—no careful conservation of paper from Ben—the
box was revealed. “It’s…a pen.”
“Yes.” Rafe cringed. “I’ve proven myself to be the worst gift giver in the world. It’s
a pen.”
“It’s a nice pen.” Ben glanced up at him. He seemed happy.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s a stupid pen.
A pen
. You give me the world. You gave
me my family and my faith—a gift so unimaginably
thoughtful
that to even think of it
makes me want explode with joy, and I gave you a pen.” Rafe got up. “I need a drink.”
“I like my pen.”
“I didn’t know, you understand? I didn’t know that you would be so…honest. I
wanted to give you the world, and I believed I could only give you a pen.”
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“I see.” Ben closed the drapes while Rafe poured them each a good three fingers of
whiskey. “So. I guess since I gave you a nice present, I could ask for the world now?”
Rafe left the drinks where they were and threw himself into Ben’s arms. “Yes.
Ask
me
. Ask me for anything. I want to give you anything you want. Anything you need.”
“Come to bed.” Ben looked at Rafe from under his lashes. “I need that.”
“Of course.” Rafe wrapped his arms around Ben while Mooki danced around them,
thinking it must be time to play. “Anything, Ben.”
“Bed will do.” Ben placed a sweet kiss on Rafe’s forehead. “It’s not the world. But
it’s a start.”
Loose Id Titles by Z. A. Maxfield
Blue Fire
Crossing Borders
Drawn Together
Family Unit
Fugitive Color
Secret Light
* * * *
(
a
Crossing Borders
Christmas story
)
* * * *
St. Nacho’s
Physical Therapy
Jacob’s Ladder
The Book of Daniel
Z. A. Maxfield
Z. A. Maxfield is a fifth generation native of Los Angeles, although she now lives in
the O.C. She started writing in 2006 on a dare from her children and never looked back.
Pathologically disorganized, and perennially optimistic, she writes as much as she can,
reads as much as she dares, and enjoys her time with family and friends. If anyone asks
her how a wife and mother of four manages to find time for a writing career, she'll
answer, “It’s amazing what you can do if you completely give up housework.”
Check out her website at
http://www.zamaxfield.com.