A Second Harvest (12 page)

David poured himself a cup of coffee. “He’s Ruth Landon’s nephew, our neighbor on the other side of the lane. He lives alone and likes to cook, so he’s been sharing meals with me in exchange for grocery money. He’s a nice guy.”

“But why—”

He heard a car pull into the driveway. River, in his doggie bed, only shifted his eyes toward the back door, still in his morning snooze. But Tonga gave a happy yip and ran over there. His tail banged staccato on the wall near the door.

“That’s him.” David went out to help.

Christie got out of his car looking festive in his parka and a bright-red scarf.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Christie said cheerfully. “I brought lots of bags.”

“I’ve got it.” David went to the hatchback of Christie’s car and opened it. He grabbed four of the fabric grocery bags. “Are you feeding an army?”

“You can’t stint the holidays.” Christie grabbed the final items from the back—a bag with what looked like straw inside and a Tupperware cake saver.

This close up David noticed the extra paleness of his face, everywhere but the two little flushed spots on his high cheekbones. His blue eyes were darker than usual too. Christie looked nervous.

David didn’t blame him in the least, but he tried to be reassuring. “Thanks for coming today. It’s nice to have you here.”

“Thanks for inviting me even though your kids are home.”

David cringed a little at Christie’s usual bluntness. “Why wouldn’t I? I’d like for you to meet them.” It was true. He did have an itch to get Christie, Amy, and Joe in the same room, to try to reconcile the two halves of his life a little.

Was Christie a “half” of his life already? It sure felt that way. Their friendship had grown very important to him in a very short amount of time. But he was still a little terrified about this. Christie was so different from Amy and Joe.
He
was different when he was with Christie.

What would Amy and Joe make of it? What if they didn’t understand? But his kids had their own lives. Why shouldn’t he be allowed to have one too?

“Come on.” He gave Christie a smile he hoped was encouraging and led the way into the house.

Amy stood in the kitchen with a clean turkey baster in one hand and the other grabbing the counter. She stared at Christie as they walked in, her mouth hanging open.

David and Christie put their armloads of bags and things on the counter.

“Amy, this is Christie. Christie, my daughter, Amy.”

“Hi, Amy. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Christie was polite and super smooth. Amy, however, was not.

“Oh.” She was still staring. Then she blinked, looked down at her robe, tossed the turkey baster on the counter like it was hot, and blushed. “Oh, h-hi. Dad, you didn’t tell me we were having company so early!”

“I just told you—”

“I have to get dressed! Wow, you brought a lot of food. Can I help? Just let me go get changed, and I’ll help. Okay? I’ll just be a minute. So don’t worry about getting the turkey in. Be right back!”

Amy fled the room. David felt a little guilty. He told Amy Christie was coming over early to get the turkey in, but he should have reminded her this morning when she was half-asleep. She was obviously embarrassed to be seen in her nightclothes. Not the best way to introduce them.

Still, she seemed very enthusiastic and friendly.

“She’s adorable,” Christie said, unpacking the bags.

“Yeah. I mean, thanks.” David frowned as he grabbed some butter and went to stick it in the fridge.

“Oh, you can leave that out. It’s easier if it’s softened.”

“Okay.” David stood there, fridge door open. It didn’t occur to him Amy might find Christie cute. In retrospect he should have known. Christie was a very good-looking man, and closer to Amy’s age than his. Did Christie find Amy attractive that way too? The idea of the two of them
dating
was horrible, gut-wrenching. He felt a little sick.

No, that would never happen. Amy dated Christian boys. And she surely wasn’t Christie’s type either. He probably dated sophisticated women in the city. David was getting upset over nothing. He must be more worried about this day than he realized.

Christie gently took the box of butter out of his hands. David blinked and looked up. He saw quiet grace in Christie’s eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” Christie said softly. “You’re having a lonely friend over for the holiday. No big deal, right?”

His tone was odd, as if there were more to it than that, as if he were making up a story that wasn’t true. But that was the truth, wasn’t it?

David took a deep breath. “Right. So what can I do to help?”

Christie looked at the coffee pot on the counter, which was nearly empty. “Can you make another pot of coffee? I’m dying for some. And there’s a bag of muffins in my stuff. Maybe put those on a plate? You can leave them on the counter for people to nibble on for breakfast. I’ll start the stuffing.”

“I’m on it.” David started another pot of coffee.

Amy came down a few minutes later, dressed in a long black skirt, boots, and a red sweater. Her hair was back in her usual bun, and her face was scrubbed clean. She smiled nervously. Christie was chopping celery and carrots on Susan’s old cutting board.

“You’re fast,” Amy said. “Dad says you’re quite the chef. So what’s the plan?”

“Cornbread and sausage stuffing. I cooked the sausage last night. It’s in that red container. You can sauté the onions if you’d like. The pan’s hot.”

Amy came around the counter and found the onions Christie must have chopped the night before. She put them in a pan that contained melted butter. “So Dad says you live in that house at the end of the lane?”

“Yes. My Aunt Ruth left it to me.”
Chop, chop, chop
.

“That’s nice. Do you work in this area?”

“I’m a graphic designer. I work from home.”

“Oh cool! What sort of things do you do?”

Christie slid the chopped celery and bits of carrot into the pan with the onions, and David decided things were going okay. He could go get cleaned up. He said as much, and they both waved him off, so he went upstairs.

By the time he showered, changed into a nice shirt and pants, and made it back downstairs, Joe was awake. He was sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and a muffin. He watched Christie stuff the bird from a mix in a big bowl while Amy stirred a pot on the stove.

“Morning, Joe. I guess you’ve met Christie Landon. He’s Ruth Landon’s nephew. You remember our neighbor Ruth. She passed last year, and Christie moved into her place.”

“Amy already introduced us, Dad.” Joe’s tone was flat.

“Okay. Great.” David wasn’t sure what else to say. He took a muffin. “How are these?” he asked Joe, since he was eating one.

“Good,” Joe said without much inflection. He took another big bite of his.

He was watching Christie, his face a neutral mask. But David sensed disapproval, and it caused a flush of irritation he swallowed down. Sometimes Joe reminded David of his father. He was built just like him—short at five eight, and stocky in that Germanic way. He had the same dark hair and thick, forward jaw. Joe was like his grandfather in other ways as well. He was deeply religious and had strong opinions of right and wrong.

“That stuffing looks so yummy. I can’t wait to taste it.” Amy was all smiles. “Doesn’t it look good, Dad?”

“I’m sure it’ll be great. I told you Christie is a wonderful cook.”

Christie looked up at David and gave him a warm smile. “I just need to truss this up and we can get it in the oven. David, can you look in my bags and find a little pack of skewers?”

David looked and found the packet. He opened it and removed what looked like long straight pins with a loop on one end. He handed them to Christie, who used them to close up the skin at the turkey’s cavity over the stuffing.

David took a muffin and had a bite while he watched. They had bran and oats and dried cherries and walnuts. So good.

“There! All set.” Christie took the pan Amy was minding and poured a butter mixture over the bird. He picked up the roasting rack, and David hurried to open the oven door. Christie slid the turkey inside. “We’ll need to baste every thirty minutes. Can you set the timer on the microwave, Amy?”

“Sure.” Amy punched the numbers in on the microwave’s timer function.

“Oh, almost forgot. I was going to put a little foil over the breast. David, can you grab some foil?”

David looked around the kitchen, trying to remember where Susan kept it.

“It’s in the third drawer down next to the fridge,” Christie said.

David found the foil and handed it over. Christie made a little tent and opened the oven to put it over the bird.

David went back to the counter to finish his muffin and found Joe staring at him with a frown.

“What?” David asked.

“How did you two get to know one another?” Joe asked, looking from David to Christie.

“Yeah, Dad,” Amy said. “I was wondering too.”

“Christie likes to cook, so we made a deal. I pay for half the groceries, and he does the cooking. It’s been a real blessing. A real blessing.” He said the last firmly, gave Christie a grateful look. He didn’t want Joe’s stiffness to put Christie off.

“That’s wonderful, Dad.” Amy gave Joe a glare. “I’m so glad you’ve been getting good meals and some company too. You spend so much time alone on this farm.” She smiled at Christie. “So… what else is on the menu?”

Christie took his phone out of his pocket and looked at it, scrolled. “The cranberry salad is already made and in the fridge. We don’t need to start the sweet potatoes yet.”

Amy stepped closer to look over his shoulder, and Christie held the phone out so she could see it too. “Oh yum! I love roasted brussel sprouts.”

Joe turned toward David. “So Dad, what’s new here? Have you got the combine running yet? How much did you get for the corn this year?”

It felt like an escape hatch to talk about something ordinary, and also distract Joe, so David took it. He ended up taking Joe out to the barn to look at the combine. Christie insisted they were fine and practically shooed them out. Probably he didn’t feel any more comfortable around Joe than Joe felt around him.

When they got back from the barn, Christie had gone home to get something, Amy said. He returned a few hours later, and by then it was time to prep the last-minute dishes, and the kitchen turned into the equivalent of a speedway pit. Amy was Christie’s sous chef, doing whatever task he set her to. David tried to help but mostly got in the way. Joe disappeared upstairs.

They sat down to eat early afternoon. Christie had made a centerpiece for the table with some straw from the barn, a pumpkin, candles, nuts, pomegranates, and leaves. It looked like a decoration from a magazine. And the meal! Even by Christie’s normally perfectionist standards, he’d outdone himself. The turkey was golden brown all over and wonderfully moist. There were homemade rolls, sweet potatoes in a candied bourbon sauce, mashed garlic potatoes, orange balsamic roasted brussels sprouts, cornbread-sausage stuffing, and a chunky fresh cranberry dish with walnuts that was better than the goopy stuff Susan used to get out of a can. The gravy was so good it made David want to moan when Christie let him taste a little on a clean spoon in the kitchen.

When they were seated, Joe spoke up. “Do you mind if I say the blessing, Dad?”

“Go ahead, Joe.”

They all took hands around the table. Christie was between David and Amy, so David held Christie’s hand in his left and Joe’s in his right. He shut his eyes.

“Our Heavenly Father, thank you for bringing us together for this celebration of thanksgiving and for the bounty of food on our table.”

Christie’s hand was large, but he had soft skin. It was a little damp, probably from all the kitchen work. David swallowed a lump in his throat.

“When I think about the things we have to be especially grateful for this year, I think about our good fortune, Amy and me, to have been raised by a loving Christian mother and father. Even though Mom is in heaven with you now, Lord, I know she’s looking over us and encouraging us, with love, to remain true to you and to the ways of Christ she established in our home.”

“Yes, Lord,” said Amy.

Christie squeezed David’s hand a little. David swept his thumb across Christie’s knuckles to reassure him. It was disconcerting to hold Christie’s hand, made David both happy and deeply anxious at the same time, like he felt on the snowmobile.

“I think about the blessing of your church and your Word, which teaches us what is holy and what is sin, and helps us to reject the ways of the wicked, Lord. I think about the joy of
Christian
fellowship with those in the church. These friendships nurture our hearts as well as our immortal souls.”

David was only half paying attention to Joe’s blessing, but when Christie tried to pull away his hand, it sank in what Joe just said. It was a dig at them, to be sure.

“And Lord—”

“Amen,” David said loudly. He dropped Christie and Joe’s hands and opened his eyes. “Thank you, Joe,” he said briskly.

Joe shot him a look but muttered, “Amen.”

“Amen,” said Amy.

“So who wants some of these sinfully delicious sweet potatoes?” Christie said a little too brightly.

Chapter 10

THE MEAL
turned out well, which topped Christie’s own personal “list of things to be grateful for.” He’d wanted to impress David’s family. And they all commented on how good everything was, repeatedly. Even Joe grudgingly said the turkey was the best he’d ever had.

But Christie’s appetite was hollow. He was full after a dozen bites, probably because his stomach was currently full of bitter acid.

He was hurt, and he didn’t like the feeling. It was stupid. He’d told himself not to expect much from David’s kids. He told himself before the day even began to just go with the flow, be a little mouse in the corner. It was nice David even included him, and this day wasn’t about him. But it was hard. These were David’s
children
, for God’s sake. They were important in his life. And Christie was….