TAKE ME HOME (32 page)

“It actually mentioned the bags?”

“Yeah.”

“Jeez.” Kyle grabbed the flashlight, and Evan tried not to laugh. He understood why Kyle had skimmed certain parts of the journal. It wasn’t like he’d even felt all that comfortable reading about Kyle’s grandpa having sex.

They moved along the walkway until they faced the far corner of the loft. The bales were in tightly packed stacks that spanned from the walkway to the back wall, each stack climbing high above their heads, stopping short of a narrow wooden ledge than ran the perimeter of the barn where the angled roof met the outer barn walls. “We need to get into the corner.” Kyle glanced around at the hay. “It’ll take us forever to make a path.”

“Well, well,” Nate said. “Guess I should’ve brought the hay hook after all.” Kyle glanced his way, and Nate shrugged, then flashed a smile.

Maybe Dennis had been right. Maybe Nate was crazy. Evan held back a laugh. “It’s okay,” he said. He took the flashlight from Kyle. “We don’t need to move the hay. They were up there.” He pointed the light toward the top corner.

“All right.” Kyle looked around again. “There should be a ladder up here somewhere.” He and Nate turned to search along the walkway.

They didn’t have time for that. They couldn’t spend all Christmas Eve in the barn. Their families would be worried. It would take finesse to keep the bales from toppling over, but they could climb the sides and crawl along the tops of the stacks. Evan slipped the flashlight into the backpack, then put a foot on the edge of a bale and gripped the one above his head. In no time, he’d made it halfway.

“Ev,” Kyle shouted from below. “What the hell are you doing? Get the fuck down here.” He stopped and looked back at Kyle. “Trust me.”

“I do, but…we can find a ladder.”

“It’s okay. I’m almost there.”

“Okay. I’m coming up.”

“No. One at a time or we might knock it all down.”

“All right.”

Evan reached the top of the hay bales and knelt on the flat surface. He could see across the layer of hay to the back wall. The stacks were twenty rows deep, each stack reaching to the same 170

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height as the one he knelt on. Except for five locations along the back wall where angled reinforcement beams ran from the wall to another beam above him near the center of the barn’s roof. The angled beams prevented the bales closest to the back wall from being stacked as high as the rest.

He crawled toward the largest opening in the far corner and shone the flashlight over the edge. The taller stacks around the opening created an eight-by-eight-foot alcove made of two barn walls and two walls of hay with an angled beam along one side of the hay.

“I was right,” he called out. “This is where they were.”

“Evan,” Kyle yelled again toward the top of hay bales. He spotted Nate watching him.

“What?”

“Penny and I knew the two of you were fucking each other. She said it was love. I told her maybe it was for him, but I wasn’t sure about you. Guess she was right. She’s always been smarter than me. She came up with the idea to take the train.” Kyle ignored him and focused again on where Evan had disappeared. “Evan!” Nate continued. “I can see why your grandfather left the journal to you. Considering how much he loved his friend too.”

“Shut up.” Kyle couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. Nate was growing on him, crazy and all.

Evan peered over the edge of the bales. “Come up here.” Kyle put his foot on the first bale, but Nate stopped him. “I’m going first.”

“That might not be a good idea.”

“Why? Because I’m older than your father? I can make it.” Kyle looked up at Evan and then back at Nate.

“I’m not dead. Get out of my way.” Nate shooed Kyle aside. The climb took twice as long as it had for Evan, but Nate managed, and Kyle quickly followed.

They crawled their way to join Evan in the corner, where he sat with his feet dangling over the edge of the bales. He pointed downward with the flashlight, and they all looked to the alcove below. Evan smiled and dropped down first. Nate went next. He staggered a bit on the landing, and Evan reached out to steady him. Nate recovered, and Kyle followed.

He landed on both feet, and Evan put a hand on his arm when the bale below him shifted.

Kyle resisted the urge to reach out to Evan in return. Not yet. The next time he touched him, he was saying a lot more than he wanted Nate to witness.

Evan shone the flashlight around, lighting up the small space. They were surrounded by two walls of the barn and two walls made of hay. Standing on the tightly packed hay bales in the corner, they were hidden from view from anywhere else in the hayloft.

“How did you know this was where they were?” he asked Evan.

“Your grandpa mentioned the loft was filled with straw back then. They’d found a place to be alone in the corner, a private alcove by an angled beam. Just them, a blanket, and the bottle of wine they’d taken from the cellar.”

“A cellar?” Nate asked. “Maybe that’s where it’s at.”

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“No,” Evan said. “I thought the same thing, but then he said this…” Evan pulled the journal from the backpack. He stopped short of opening it and lifted his head. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“Go ahead.” Kyle flipped a hand through the air in Nate’s direction. “He already knows.”

“Okay. I’ll just read the first part.” Evan read aloud.

“Joe’s gone now, and I can’t let go of today, of the last time we’ll ever be in each other’s arms. We spent the afternoon in the alcove made of straw in the upper right corner of the barn.

Where I had spent hours as a child, hiding from my brothers, running my toy tractor along the angled beam until I couldn’t reach any higher. No one would look for us there. It was the perfect place to say good-bye to my youth.

“We lay on the blanket for a while sipping the wine we’d found in the cellar, trading the bottle back and forth, neither of us speaking, Joe was still a touch out of breath from the climb to heft the bags into place. We were so close to each other. Even in the low light, I saw the scar above his eye that reminded me of all we’d lived through in Korea. Even over the straw surrounding us, I smelled his familiar scent. He was all I could see, all I could feel, even without touching him. A part of me knew I’d carry those sensations with me for the rest of my life. But this was the last time they’d be real. I knew as I reached for him, it was the last time we’d make love.”

Kyle sucked in a deep breath, the ache of his grandpa’s pain so real to him. What must it have been like to be gay back then? To feel like you had no options? Like no matter what choice you made, you’d lose?

Evan slowly closed the book. He wouldn’t look at Kyle. He said, “This has to be where they were. But where would they hide it?”

Kyle examined the walls. They were thin. Too thin to have a secret compartment filled with bags of money. “He said Joe had to climb?”

“Yeah.” Evan shone the flashlight above their heads.

A long ledge ran above them along the side of the barn from corner to corner. Without looking, Kyle knew both the opposite side and back wall of the barn had the same construction.

The wooden planks had probably been added at some point to protect the hayloft’s contents from any leaks where the roof met the barn’s outer walls or to create another level of storage. He could not recall his grandfather or cousin ever utilizing the small space. He pointed overhead.

“There. That ledge has been there as long as I can remember.” Evan nodded. “That wood looks old. Do you think it’ll hold us?”

“Maybe.”

“We could climb back up to the top of the hay and stack more bales until we can reach it.” They set to work, scaling the sides of the hay, then stacking bales into a crisscross pattern to create a makeshift ladder. Nate remained in the small enclosure below, standing still as Kyle and Evan moved the bales around. The man looked exhausted.

“Move back,” Kyle called down to him, and then he rolled a hay bale into the enclosure.

“Have a seat.”

Nate nodded and sat on the bale. He watched as they finished creating the ladder above.

After a few minutes of work, Kyle and Evan were eye level with the ledge. At this angle, they could see it was actually made up of a long beam. The beam created the outer edge of the ledge and ran the length of the barn. It had flat planks of wood attached above and below, and 172

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each plank spanned from the beam to the barn wall. The money could be hidden on the other side of the beam in the space between the flat boards.

Kyle and Evan stood on the top hay bale, staring into the dark space above the ledge. The barn was even darker at this height, the boards of the ledge shielding most of the light from below. They’d need to use the flashlight to get a good look. Kyle paused. What if they found it?

“Want me to look?” Evan asked.

“No. I have to do this. I already know he helped them hide the money. Actually seeing it won’t make a difference.”

“Here.” Evan handed over the flashlight.

“Thanks. Wait here for me while I check it out?” Their fingers touched as Kyle took hold of the flashlight.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Evan held the touch for a moment more before letting go.

Kyle wanted to believe those words meant something more than what they were actually discussing. Now wasn’t the time to ask. He gave Evan a nod, then hoisted himself onto the ledge.

The space wasn’t tall enough to stand, especially with the angle of the roof overhead, so he had to remain on his hands and knees. He bounced a little to test the sturdiness of the aging wood.

The best approach would be to move along the floor over the beam, rather than put his weight over the empty space alongside it. He moved forward along the beam’s path.

He started in the corner, shining the light around, searching the walls and floors for any sign of a hiding spot or loose floorboards. He made his way toward the front of the barn, the boards below him creaking as he went. He searched that corner, then returned to where he’d started. Nothing.

The exterior barn walls were one-board thick. The rafters of the roof overhead were smaller than the beam below him. There was no place to stash anything as large as a bag of money except under the floorboards. The boards were old, but the few he’d examined were still firmly secured. He couldn’t pry them loose with just his hands.

Besides, they couldn’t pry up every board in the place. They’d be there all night. He wanted Evan’s opinion, but he couldn’t see him from this angle. He crawled forward. The floorboard under his right knee gave a little. The rotting wood had it sagging in the middle, creating a sliver of space between it and the next plank. He slid his fingertips into the crevice and tried to pull up the end of the plank. It wouldn’t budge.

Something told him not to give up. Not yet.

He set the flashlight down so it shone over the area where he worked. He tried the next plank that was just as sunk in as the first. It was even more secure. He moved forward and tried another. He was about to give up and tell Evan they’d need a crowbar when the last plank he tried loosened on the first pull. He yanked on it more, and the board jerked free, sending him flying backward on his ass, almost smacking himself in the forehead with the piece of wood still clutched in both of his hands.

“Kyle!” Evan called out. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I might have found something. Hang on.” He tossed the plank aside and grabbed the flashlight. He shone the light into the space below. There were cobwebs and stray stalks of hay. He could see all the way down to the other boards secured to the bottom of the beam. There was nothing inside the opening. No bags. No money. He got on his belly, stuck his arm inside the Take Me Home

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hole, and pointed the beam of light one way and then the other. He almost missed them. They were smaller than he expected and tucked far into the space, with years of dust and cobwebs covering them.

He’d definitely found something.

He reached inside until he had his arm stretched out all the way and his head plastered to the floorboard beside the hole. He grabbed hold of the first bag and yanked it forward an inch. A plume of dust flew into the air and out of the hole. He coughed and waited until the air cleared, then dragged the bag toward him and out through the opening. Despite the faded material and the dust covering half the letters, he could make out the words The Denver Bank and Trust stamped on the side of the bag. He held it in his hands for a moment, feeling the weight of its contents and of the truths he’d learned over the past six days.

When he could move again, he crawled to the edge of the makeshift loft. “Climb down, Ev. Stay off to the side by Nate.” Nate was still seated on the hay bale in the alcove below, staring at his shoes.

Evan made his way down. Once he was next to Nate, Kyle said, “Watch out.” Then he dropped the bag to the hay bale beside Nate and Evan. Dust and hay particles blew into the air on impact.

“Oh my God,” Evan said as he stared down at the bag.

“Stay back.” Kyle gestured to Evan. “I’m coming down.” When he reached the alcove, he added, “There are at least five more bags that I can see.” No one moved a muscle, all staring at the small bag lying on the hay before them.

Finally Evan said, “Want me to…”

“Yeah.” Kyle pointed the flashlight at the bag. “Go for it.” Evan sank to his knees, opened the bag, and slid out a metal tackle box. He lifted the lid.

Inside were bundles of cash. Evan picked one up. “They’re practically like new.” Transferring the money into the box had been a wise choice. The bag had several holes that probably hadn’t been there on the day it had left the Denver Bank and Trust. Whatever had chewed through the bag would’ve destroyed the money inside had it not been protected. “Old bills, though.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “They don’t even make thousand dollar bills anymore. This is what?” He held up the bundle and examined the edge of the stack. “A hundred bills per bundle.” One hundred thousand dollars in Evan’s right hand.

Evan set it in his lap and pulled out more bundles from the box, dropping each to his lap until he’d counted twenty packets of money.