A Second Harvest (22 page)

“Thinking of himself” had been a foreign concept for most of his life. He never had that luxury when there were mouths to feed and bills to pay. But now? He had more freedom now than he’d had since he was eighteen. Heck, this thing with Christie wouldn’t have happened if that weren’t the case.

“Maybe so. And I need to think about you too,” David added. Holding Christie like this, it was a growing conviction. The crack he’d created in his world was ever widening. He couldn’t imagine giving this up, going back to his previously lonely existence, back into denying himself. And yet he had no idea how to reconcile this… love affair… with the life he’d lived for so many years.

“I know what you mean, though,” Christie pulled back a little so he could look at David’s face. “There are things I’ll miss about this place too, when I go back to the city.”

“Me, I hope.”

Christie stared at him. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to have to miss you. It’s not inevitable, is it?”

David’s heart gave a weighty thump. Leave it to Christie to be blunt. He touched Christie’s cheek. “No. Not inevitable on my end.”

Christie’s face softened. “You’re the end that matters. Because I’m all in.”

David huffed a laugh. He couldn’t resist drawing Christie in tighter, hands on Christie’s back. He kissed Christie’s forehead and let his mouth rest there.

“I’m the end that matters? You’re the one who’s young and beautiful.”
Successful, generous, amazing.
“You could do a lot better than a grizzled old man like me.”

Christie shook his head. “Forty-one is not old! And I’ve been out there. I’ve sown probably almost as many wild oats figuratively as you have literally.” He laughed sadly. “I know a good thing when I have it. And you know how stubborn I can be.”

“Be stubborn,” David urged.
Be stubborn for me, Christie. Be stubborn for both of us.

Christie pressed tighter, kissed his neck. David sighed, letting his head fall to the side. He smiled at himself—already horny and feeling deprived because they hadn’t had sex the night before. He’d gone for months between orgasms before. But everything about Christie aroused him. He couldn’t get enough.

He looked toward the door, thinking about scooting Christie in that direction and back to the house. Something moved in the window. Startled, David pushed Christie back.

“What is it?” Christie asked.

“I thought I saw someone.” David hesitated, a sense of cold dread washing through him. He was sure he’d seen a face at the window.

“Do you want to go see?” Christie suggested nervously.

Right. No point standing here like a fool. Making his legs move, David went over to the door and left the stall. He didn’t see anyone outside the barn, but he thought he heard the slam of a car door.

The dairy man wasn’t due until later that morning. Earl? But Earl never showed up before three. David walked quickly around the side of the barn and then past the old pump house. By the time he got to a clear view of the yard, he was too late to see who was there, but he heard the sound of a car driving fast down the driveway on the other side of the house.

Please, God, let it have been the FedEx or UPS man.
Maybe there would be a package at the back door. Maybe the guy was looking for a signature or something.

David walked up to the house, Christie trailing behind him. On the porch stoop was a large platter covered with foil. Definitely not FedEx or UPS.

He lifted the foil and saw it was a platter of Christmas cookies. They were in a decorative ceramic dish shaped like a Christmas tree, but the dish was cracked down the middle, and some of the cookies were broken too. Whoever left it had dropped it on the stoop, either accidentally or angrily, or in too much of a hurry.

His heart pounding, he picked up a piece of cookie and tasted it. Way too much flour and not enough sugar.
Evelyn Robeson?

“Is everything all right?” Christie came up behind him. “What happened?”

David looked up at him. “She must have seen us.”

“She who? It wasn’t Amy, was it?”

“No.” David sighed. “A woman from our church.”

“I’m sorry, David.” Christie looked worried.

“It’s not your fault.”
I shouldn’t have been holding you, kissing you in the barn in broad daylight.

“Is there anything I can do?”

The moment felt wretched, almost as bad as when Joe was there. David hated the way he felt—fearful, ashamed, and guilty. And he didn’t like the look on Christie’s face—worried and unhappy. This wasn’t Christie’s problem.

“It’s fine.” He stood up and brushed off his hands. “Maybe it’s for the best. She’s been trying to suggest she and I should date, and I wasn’t interested.”

Would Evelyn hold her tongue? That was the real problem. Would she tell people at church what she’d seen? If she did there was a good chance Amy and Joe would hear about it. Maybe she’d be too embarrassed to talk about it, though. And what had she seen other than a hug? Maybe she’d misinterpret it.

But the broken platter didn’t bode well.

“I should go home and get to work. It’s after ten,” Christie said in a worried voice. “Thanks for letting me see the birth, David. It was amazing. And I’m so sorry about this.” He waved at the cookie platter.

“It’s all right. I’ll see you tonight. At your place?”

Christie nodded and managed a smile. “Okay. Have a good day.”

But nothing felt quite right as Christie walked away.

ACT III: The Reaping

Chapter 18

GOD, CHRISTIE
hated being in New York for Christmas.

No, that wasn’t true. He
loved
being in New York for Christmas. It was being in New York without David he hated. It felt like someone had surgically removed half his ribs, so he was walking around unsupported internally. They also took all of his sense of humor while they were at it, excised that sucker with an X-Acto knife.

Kyle did his best, blond bundle of holiday bliss that he was. They went shopping at Macy’s, Tiffany’s, and all the best holiday stores. They walked around Rockefeller Center and Central Park. They went to a midnight off-Broadway production of
Scrooge
. But all the wonderful tastes and sights, the cheerful times with his friends…. He wanted to share those with David. Without him there it all felt pointless. Christie tried not to let that show. He didn’t want to be a downer.

He was glad to see Kyle and Billy seemed happy. They argued now and then because Kyle was opinionated and Billy was no pushover, but they were also affectionate nearly all the time and seemed to have slipped into hardcore coupledom—finishing each other’s sentences, dividing up household chores with the grace of a well-oiled machine, and still having enthusiastic sex, if the noises that came from their bedroom at night was any indication.

Christie and David did those things too. But the difference was Kyle and Billy were permanent. They were secure. They were in a place Christie could only dream about.

It was pretty much impossible for him to lie on the couch in his mounds of bedding and not think about David. To be fair he thought about David all day, but at night in particular, with the sounds of Kyle and Billy making love in the next room, his brain wanted to take the long view.

He wondered if he would still be with David when next Christmas rolled around. And if so if they’d be in a painful long-distance relationship, or if he’d still be at his aunt’s house or what. He couldn’t imagine himself spending a family Christmas at the farm. It was hard to see himself ever fitting into the family unit that included David, Amy, and Joe. And that was upsetting and depressing as hell. It triggered a lot of his deepest insecurities. Christie had been raised that a family was a mama, a poppa, and the kids. There was no place in that picture for the gay boy.

They went to The Boiler Room on Christmas Eve. Kyle was all excited about seeing their old friends. But it felt flat, like watching an old movie you’d seen way too many times before. Nothing about The Boiler Room had changed, including the regulars who commented on, bitched about, or tried to get a quickie from the fresh newbies. But
Christie
had changed. He couldn’t believe he’d spent so much of his life there, all of his twenties, in fact. He’d so much rather be spending a quiet evening with David, cooking dinner, cuddling on the couch with their books, or watching a movie, spending long hours exploring each other’s bodies.

To make it worse, he had to fend off quite a few advances. Every time he said no he thought about how much of himself he’d given away all those years. This was a life he definitely didn’t want to return to. But if things with David didn’t work out, he could see himself getting sucked back into this because… what else was there, really?

He
knew
he and David were incredibly important to each other, that they had a singularly unique connection. They had from the start. But he also knew David had some very difficult decisions to make.

He spent most of that evening at The Boiler Room texting David on his phone. Kyle got annoyed with him and dragged him outside for some “fresh air.”

“Jesus, Christie, I’ve never seen you like this,” Kyle bitched. “You’re pining more than our goddamned Christmas tree.”

That made Christie laugh. “Sorry. I’m trying not to be pathetic, believe me.”

“Look, I’m glad you’ve met someone, but I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried too. What if I can’t hang on to it this time, Kyle? The one time when I desperately want to. When I
have
to.”

Kyle pouted sympathetically and gave Christie a hug. “If you guys are meant to be together, you will be. He’ll do the right thing. And if he doesn’t, then it never would have worked out and he doesn’t deserve you. No matter what you’ll be okay, Christie. You always have been, and you always will be.”

Christie didn’t like the sound of that. Yes, he was a survivor, but surviving without David didn’t sound like much fun.

“I really want to meet this guy,” Kyle put in, a little threateningly. “See if he’s worth all this trouble.”

Christie smiled. “Maybe you and Billy can take the train over for the weekend sometime this winter.”

“That would be great. Now put away the damned phone, come back inside, and dance with me. Let’s show them we’re still fierce, Christie.”

And so they did.

DAVID’S MOTHER
was not happy with him. “It’s Christmas Eve, David! Even if you haven’t been going to church regular, you should go this one night to be with your family. Goodness sake. You should be celebrating the birth of Jesus and giving thanks to God for a good year.”

His mother, now eighty-two, was the sort who wouldn’t miss church on Sunday unless she was lying in bed with an infectious disease and a fever of a hundred and three. She never let him miss it either when he was growing up.

“I’m not going tonight,” David said firmly, and not for the first time. “I’m waiting on a call.”

“From who?” His mother sounded completely bewildered.

“Yeah, Dad. From who?” Amy came into the kitchen dressed for the Christmas Eve service. She had on her best green dress and wore a bright-red headband and scarf.

“You look lovely, Am.” He kissed her cheek.

“Thanks, Dad. Who are you expecting a phone call from?” Her eyes were mischievous. “Is it the same mysterious someone who’s been texting you? And has you off your appetite and smiling to yourself this entire vacation? When do we get to meet her?”

She was teasing him. Amy didn’t actually know anything, but she was closer to the mark than she knew.

“I don’t have any news to share with you at this time,” David said pointedly.

“Does that mean you will soon?”

“Amy, there is no news.”

Amy’s expression grew worried. “Then is everything okay? Is there a problem with the farm? Or are you sick? You haven’t been yourself, Dad.”

It hurt to hear her concern. It hurt to know he was going to upend her world in a serious way sometime soon.

“Everything’s fine.”

“You
should
remarry,” his mother put in. “A farmer has to have a hardworking wife.”

“That’s true,” added his Aunt Gladys. “You’re still a young man, David.”

“Yes, thank you. I’ll bear it in mind.”

It was the same advice he heard from his mother when he was eighteen. He tried to sound lighthearted to ease Amy’s worry, but inside he was anything but. If he and Christie were to stay together, he’d have to tell them all someday soon, and the idea was gut-wrenching. He didn’t look forward to the disappointment from his mother, but Amy…. Amy’s disappointment would be a lot harder to take. She’d always looked up to him. A father needed to be a hero to his little girl.

“So. Where’s Joe?” he asked to change the subject.

“Here.” Joe came into the kitchen dressed in his gray pinstripe suit, white shirt, and a red tie.

“Is Amanda going to be at the service?” David asked.

“Of course, with her family.” He looked David up and down, taking in his jeans and red flannel shirt. “You’d better get dressed, Dad, or we’ll be late.”

“I’m staying home. You can drive my car. It’s more comfortable for the ladies.” He handed Joe the keys.

Joe frowned at him. “It’s Christmas Eve, Dad. Come on. Just throw on some better pants.”

“I’m not going, Joe.”

Geez, how many times did he have to repeat himself? It would be easier to just give in and go. The Christmas Eve services were mostly singing and a short sermon. It wouldn’t kill him to attend. But he’d feel like a hypocrite if he went. And he had no interest in seeing Evelyn Robeson or Pastor Mitchell, for that matter.
Can I ask if this is purely a theological issue for you, son? Will you pray with me about it?

He had a sense of unease, a claustrophobic tension, like a cell door somewhere had slammed shut. Already things were getting complicated, and he hadn’t even told anyone yet. Even trying to maintain a pleasant demeanor this holiday was difficult—he missed Christie so much. He couldn’t see how people did this—lived two lives. It was certainly not something he was adept at. He’d be lucky if he could survive even a few more months of it.