Sunshine and Roses

Lowry exhaled wearily as he stared down at his sandal. The strap had broken again.
"I pay you so little you cannot afford to get new ones?" Jacob asked. He popped his pipe back into his mouth and puffed contentedly on it.
"I know I should buy another pair. I do not think these will last through the cold weather."
"Everyone should be so wise." Lowry stifled a smile. "You did not eat breakfast. Is it you do not like my Leah's cooking?" The old man's inflection was one of quiet concern.
"Jacob, you know I love the way she cooks. I did not have time to eat this morning, " Lowry told the other. He bent over, lifted the barrel of fish and settled it carefully into the small wagon. It was no longer as hard to lift the heavy cask as it had been five months ago. Lowry wiped the perspiration from his forehead. After loosening his leather jerkin, he grabbed another keg. 
He had realized, after having left Sir Guy's house five months ago, that Justin would search for him. He would be looking for a monk. It disturbed Lowry to do it, but he had removed his robe, replaced it by an inexpensive outfit of wool tunic and short breeches. At the beginning, he often caught himself feeling naked, feeling cold. He was adjusted to his new style of clothing now though. Not seeing Justin was another matter. His dreams were still filled with loving him, with the feeling of being cherished whenever that ex-mercenary touched him.
"There is a time for everything under the sun. Morning is the time for eating breakfast."
"I was praying."
"Praying will not keep you from collapsing unto the dirt from starvation."
"I will not faint from hunger, Jacob." Lowry smiled when the other man made a disgruntled sound beneath his breath.
"You are so young, you know more than me."
"no."
"I have two bits of news for you." Lowry stopped, turned his gaze upon the other man. "I heard from my brother this morning." Lowry's face questioned him. Jacob smiled smugly. "Mordechai liked your design. May God forgive him for stealing my best worker." He watched the huge, pleased smile appear and remain on the other man's face. "it looks like I'll be training a new worker. He wants you to start tomorrow."
"Jacob, I am sorry to leave you without anyone but I do want to work with your brother."
"Oh, yes, your talent is being wasted here. I can give you food for your soul like he can? Nay. Designing jewelry is much better than this. Am I short cousins? Everyone needs a job. Go to Jacob in Liverpool, they are told. He needs workers. Am I so rich I can hire every cousin I have? Ah, but this one that came last is big and husky. He has no brains but who needs them when his body is so strong?"
"Not like mine?" Lowry teased, a twinkle in his beautiful, green eyes.
Jacob chuckled. "You have come a long way."
"You were very patient with me. I thank God for you." 
"From your mouth to God's ear."
"Thank you for showing Mordechai my work."
"You deserve it." he puffed on his thin, long, curved pipe again. "`Sides, he was very impressed that I would recognize your talent. Not such a nosh after all."
"You said you have two bits of information for me?"
"This one might be for you and it might not. It depends, you see, on your past."
"My. . .past?" He could feel his face closing, growing tense. A coldness invaded his stomach. Nay. . .
"A man was asking around for a monk. His description matched you except for the lack of a robe and the top of your head. You have no bald spot."
"Nay." <I let my hair grow back in. I was trying to hide from Justin, in case he did come looking.>
"Are you a monk?" Lowry turned his head, chewed his upper lip. "Are you this Brother Raymond this man has been asking about?"
"Yes, I. . ." He stopped. How could he say he was when he had shed his outer trappings? How could he claim he was a priest when he had no monastery, when he had no church, when he had broken his vow of chastity? Nay, he had to be honest with himself, with Jacob. "I was. . .at one time. What did the man look like?" He listed in growing dismay as his employer described William Justin to perfection. "Jacob, I do not want him to know where I am." he could not keep the pain from his voice, out of his eyes. Why couldn't Justin have styesd away? Why did he have to follow?
"Ray, I have never asked you for any information about your past, and I will not start now."
"Thank you."
Jacob said thoughtfully. "A man has a right to his inner freedom. It was clear to me you were not a murderer, a thief. That was good enough for me." he accepted the look of gratitude with a small smile of fondness for the young man. "I will keep quiet but I have no control over anyone else."
"I know." He closed in eyes in exhaustion. Would it never end?
"When you get that last keg loaded, go into supper."
"But. . ."
"So what is wrong? You do not like my Leah's chicken soup?"
"Jacob. . ." Lowry shook his head.
"Consider it an order, Ray." Lowry nodded reluctantly. "Now, that was not so hard, was it?" he teased. 
Lowry laughed lightly. "Nay."

Mordechai watched in thoughtful speculation as Lowry corrected a minor flaw in his design. The young man was a hard worker. In the last two weeks, he had produced compositions, styles, that had caught the eye of more than one prosperous client. His profit had increased 45% in the last two days alone. Mordechai lit another candle and placed in a good spot. Lowry glanced up briefly, smiled faintly as a thank you and then bent back over the intricate drawing.
The jeweler went back out to the front of the shop. A man entered. He was tall, muscular, dark haired. There was an old, tired look about the stranger. "May I help you?"
The man removed a small painting. He held it out toward Mordechai. "Have you seen this man?"
The jeweler took the painting, studied it. He knew who it was instantly. It was Lowry, but a Lowry in the garb of a monk. "Why are you looking for him, if I may ask? Is he a thief?"
The stranger hesitated then said slowly, "He is a friend of mine. He simply disappeared one day and I was worried."
"Why did he vanish from your side if you two are friends?"
"The man who employed him blamed him for something he had not done. Why he did not come to me for help, I do not know. He left without saying anything to anyone."
"I see. Who are you?"
The man exhaled raggedly. "I am Sir William Justin. Have you seen him?"
"I might have. Where are you staying? If this is who I think it is, I will send word to you." Justin told him and then left. Mordechai went back in to Lowry and met the younger man on Lowry's way out. "A man was here looking for you." He was unprepared for the shock that Lowry would feel. Lowry turned pure white. The quill in his hand dropped unheeded to the floor. Mordechai grabbed him before he fell. "Are you ill? Or are you afraid of this man?"
"I. . ."
"Ray. . ." Another voice sounded from the doorway, another voice that brought back memories. If it were humanly possible, Lowry turned even whiter. Mordechai scrutinized the stranger from the showroom, the one who had called himself Justin. He did not feel any danger from him, toward either him or Lowry. He could see the agony in the man's eyes, though, strong hurting that came from the very depths of Justin's soul. A memory of his own came back to haunt Mordechai. The suffering and the grief he had felt when his beloved wife had died, returned strong and clear. Justin loved Lowry. Of that, Mordechai had no doubt. Mordechai was not offended or shocked. he had lived to long to feel either of those.
"Why did you leave like that? Why have you been hiding from me? You could have come to me. I would not have turned you away." The pain of rejection, of abandonment, was still fresh in Justin's mind, his heart. It was jagged and harsh in his voice. "Why did you not come to me?!"
"I will leave you two alone, but if you need me, Ray, call out." Neither of the other two heard him. He hurried out, shutting the door quietly behind him. <Rachel!> his heart cried out to the memory of the dark haired, laughing woman that had meant so much to him. Oh yes, he understood Justin's pain all too clearly.
"I did what I thought was best for the both of us, " Lowry told his ex-lover in a quiet voice.
"The best?" Justin ran his hands through his hair. "I was terrified that you had been impressed by the navy or way laid by robbers. I pictured you lying on the side of the road, bleeding to death." The anguish threatened to boil over.
"I did what I thought was the best thing to do."
"Without consulting me? Without asking me what I wanted? Did you think I would not care?!" The torment overflowed. "Damn you! I searched all over the place for you!" He hurried forward, grabbed Lowry's arms with tight, hurting fingers. "You did what you thought was best? Best for whom?" He shook Lowry. "Best for whom, damn you!"
"William, please. We are not alone." 
"I do not care what the world hears or thinks, not any longer." He reached up, clutched Lowry's hair, jerked his head backwards. "Do you know what sorrow and agony you caused me? Did you even stop and think what your leaving like that would do to me?"
"William, please. . ." His mouth opened in silent pain as Justin's fingers grew tighter. 
Justin moved rapidly away, went to clutch the top of Lowry's stool. "Damn you. I did my best to understand your fear, your reluctance to admit the love that we have for each other. I never pushed you, never forced you to make a stand. I made allowances for your apprehension, for you belief in the church. This leaving of yours. . ." He whirled rapidly, glared at the slimmer man. "How could you just leave like that?! How could you hurt me like that!?"
"Our love is wrong."
"Wrong? I love you more than anyone I have ever loved. A joy fills me when you are with me. A contentment like I have never known before comes to me when I see you smile, when I hear you speak. Shall I tell you what I feel when we make love?"
"Nay!"
"You are a coward." Lowry lowered his head, ashamed. "You have won, Ray Lowry. You wanted me out of your life, and I am leaving." He took two steps toward the door, stopped. Without turning around, he asked in a strangled voice, "When you lie alone at night, do you ever think of me?" There was no reply. "I will never forgive you for this." <I will never forget you. . .> He dropped the painting Cedric had done and vanished rapidly through the door.

He had done the right thing so why did it hurt so much? Lowry stood there, frozen as distress turned rapidly to mental and emotional torment. He had done the right thing. He knew he had. . . hadn't he?