A Second Harvest (Men of Lancaster County Book 1)

by Eli Easton

  Don’t push him, Christie. Let him lead.

  “I’d like you to be honest,” David said. “Are you genuinely attracted to me? If it’s just pity or curiosity, or because you’re bored out here in the sticks, then I’d prefer it if we stay friends. Sex… it means something to me.”

  That hurt a little, as if sex meant nothing to Christie. But he supposed he’d deserved that opinion in the past. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “David, I’ve never been as attracted to anyone as I am to you—physically, emotionally, sexually….”

  David looked up at him with an expression like disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth before he got words out. “Me too.”

  Christie smiled. “Your pace. Okay?”

  David blushed a little and nodded. “Yeah, I—thanks.”

  “How about I make dinner on Thursday? I still need to try that toffee pudding, so I was thinking British.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Okay, then.” It made Christie stupidly happy just to have a for-sure future date set.

  “Unless you need some space,” David added quickly.

  “Nope. You?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.” David walked Christie to the door but made no move to kiss him again. So Christie said good night and went home. He didn’t even notice the wind in the lane this time.

  On Thursday he made shepherd’s pie, fresh steamed peas with mint, and toffee pudding. On Friday night they had a lovely sausage and bean stew with whole-grain cornbread made with yogurt. They didn’t touch or kiss, but they both did a lot of looking and so much smiling Christie’s face hurt.

  It felt like a slow courtship dance to Christie, and it was driving him fucking bonkers. The photos on his phone were all well and good, but he craved the real thing. If David didn’t make a move soon, Christie would attack him out of sheer sexual frustration.

  * * *

  On Saturday morning David was pleased when Christie came over to get in some heavy lifting. David was mucking out stalls, and he tried to give Christie an easier task, but Christie insisted on helping. Temperatures had been below freezing overnight, and the icy straw-and-waste material was heavy on the shovels and heavier still in the wheelbarrow. They both ended up drenched in sweat.

  “So… tomorrow’s Sunday,” Christie said as they spread clean straw in the emptied stall.

  “Sunday always comes the day after Saturday around here. Maybe it’s different in New York.”

  Christie rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Smartass. I was just wondering if you’ve got plans for tomorrow? Church-type plans? Or kids-home-from-college-type plans? You said you go to church sometimes.”

  “No plans.” David wondered what Christie had in mind. Whatever it was, he was probably going to say yes. He already wanted to.

  Christie wiped his face with his sweatshirt, pulling up his shirt hem to do it and revealing a flat stomach with a fine trace of golden hair below his belly button. It sent a thrill of longing singing through David’s blood. It was a calculated move, he was pretty sure. But Christie spoke innocently. “Well, I thought it might be nice to go somewhere. How long can you be away from the farm? Could you manage six hours?”

  “I have to milk in the morning, but I can call Earl to see if he’d come over for the second round, even though it’s a Sunday. Six hours shouldn’t a problem. What did you have in mind?”

  “Can I surprise you?” Christie’s eyes were hopeful and his smile irresistible.

  “I guess we’ll see about that. What would I have to wear to this ‘surprise’?”

  Christie tilted his head, considering it. “Something clean and comfortable. Jeans and a nicer long-sleeved shirt or sweater. Or khakis. It doesn’t have to be fancy.”

  “I can manage that.” David wondered if he could iron a shirt without burning it. It was years since he’d bothered. A surprise. He smiled to himself. He liked surprises.

  Christie’s eyes were warm. “Thanks for trusting me. I think you’ll really like it.”

  “Of course I trust you.” I let you see me, naked, over the phone.

  He knew Christie was waiting on him to make a move, to touch him in the flesh instead of hiding behind a phone. He wanted to, God knew he did, but it never felt like the right time. They’d been having dinner at the farm, and it was awkward in the house. The ghosts of his past life were too thick there. He couldn’t quite cross through those layers of habit to take his male lover into his arms. And he still struggled with his own guilt and sense of self, though not nearly enough to make him want to stop seeing Christie.

  “We’re going out of town, then?” he asked.

  Christie looked mysterious. “You’ll see. But it’ll be someplace new for both of us. Sound all right?”

  “Sounds like an adventure.”

  On Sunday David woke early, too anxious to sleep. He was done with his morning chores by six. He showered with more care than usual and spent way too much time ironing a shirt. He chose a blue Oxford dress shirt Susan once got him for Christmas. It matched Christie’s eyes. He realized it did no good if his shirt matched someone else’s eyes, but he kept being drawn back to it, and in the end, he wore the damn shirt. He hurriedly ate a bowl of cereal. At the agreed-upon time of 8:00 a.m., he knocked on Christie’s door.

  “Morning.” Christie was all ready to go in his black ski jacket and a blue sweater. He looked young and gorgeous standing in the doorway, and David felt a lump in his throat.

  “Want to take my truck?” he offered.

  “Sure. But we only need to drive about a mile.”

  “A mile?” There wasn’t a whole lot within a mile, and David felt a nudge of disappointment.

  “To the train station,” Christie explained. “We’ll be back by three. Okay?”

  “Sure.” David’s excitement moved up a notch.

  The Amtrak station in town was no more than a platform. David parked in the small parking lot. He got out and waited for Christie to choose a side. If he took the small footbridge to the other side of the tracks, they’d be headed toward Philly and New York City. If he stayed on this side, Harrisburg. Christie headed for the footbridge.

  On the train they settled into two seats. Christie insisted David take the window, and the train pulled away from the station.

  “Philadelphia?” David guessed, looking at Christie’s pleased smile. It would be hard to do New York City in only six hours.

  “Yes. When was the last time you were there?”

  David had to think about it. “Amy had a choir competition there in tenth grade. So that would have been about six years ago.”

  It wasn’t a good memory. Joe had stayed home and Amy went on the school bus, so it was just him and Susan who drove to the city. It was before her cancer was been diagnosed, but she hadn’t been feeling well and complained the whole time. The traffic made her nervous and she didn’t like crowds. It was a stressful day.

  Christie looked at him with surprise. “That’s sad. I hear Philly’s a great city.”

  “Well, the farm.”

  “I get it. So… what do you know about New Zealand?”

  Christie’s eyes were bright and he looked as excited as a kid at Christmas. He must miss the city, David thought.

  “Um… New Zealand. It has famous national parks and hiking trails. People go there from all over just for that. There’s one called the Milford Track and another called Te Araroa, which is over eighteen hundred miles, like our Appalachian Trail.” Nat Geo had an article on Te Araroa, with stunning pictures of craggy mountains and coastline views.

  “Really? I didn’t know that. What else?”

  “It’s near Australia.”

  Christie raised an eyebrow. “Is that it?”

  “The indigenous people are the Maori. They’ve integrated with the contemporary culture to a high degree compared to other countries.”

  Christie smiled a secretive smile and looked out the window. “Sounds
interesting.”

  They arrived at the Amtrak station in Philly an hour later. Christie led them through the huge lobby area and outside to a line of taxis.

  “The Philadelphia Art Museum,” he told the driver.

  David was open to the idea, though he wasn’t all that interested in old paintings. Honestly doing anything at all with Christie in Philadelphia sounded like a grand time. He watched out the window as the taxi made its way through the city. It felt different being here this time. He felt like he did on that trip to Washington DC. It was a little intimidating with all the people and cars and the maze of buildings, but exciting too, and full of possibilities. He looked over to find Christie watching him. Christie’s hand was loosely fisted on the seat between them, and David had the urge to take it. He didn’t, but he smiled. “This is fun.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Christie promised.

  The art museum opened at ten, and they were a little early, so they walked around the grounds. It was situated in a park on a high point overlooking the river. It was a beautiful place, even on a cloudy winter day. They found a gazebo with a view the Schuylkill River and watched a tourist boat putt putt on by.

  David felt alive and happy, just to be someplace new. The fact he was with Christie made everything feel more… hopeful, like he was a different person and anything was possible. That feeling intensified when he noticed a gay couple in their twenties walking down a path nearby. They were holding hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He caught himself staring and looked away.

  “Thanks for bringing me here,” he told Christie.

  “You can’t thank me until the end of the day. It still might suck in the end.”

  “But I already know I like it. Just this is great.”

  Christie shook his head. “You’re too easy. Come on. They should be open by now.”

  It turned out the museum was hosting a special exhibit on Maori Culture. It was fantastic. There was a section on dress with woven skirts of all designs arranged on poles in front of photos of Maori wearing them. There were baskets and wood carvings, paintings, weapons, and boats. There was even a real life-sized shrine, a triangular structure with a tall pointed roof that was covered in wood carvings. David hadn’t learned that much about the Maori from Nat Geo, and he read the displays with interest. Christie seemed engaged too. They pointed things out to each other as they noticed them. Christie loved the wood carvings in particular, and said he wanted to try sketching some animals in that style when he got home.

  As they wandered through the halls, Christie drew closer until they were brushing shoulders. David saw the gay couple again, walking through the exhibit. They were still holding hands. They seemed to be completely unconcerned, and no one was yelling at them or even watching them.

  What would it be like to hold Christie’s hand here? This is my boyfriend, lover, husband. Isn’t he beautiful? He’s good too. He’s smart and productive and generous and so sexy. The idea made his chest swell with both anxiety and pride. Was he too old a dog to learn new tricks? Could he belong in a world this modern?

  It wasn’t all that hard to imagine being a different person here, in a swanky museum in Philadelphia, surrounded by exotic things. But he didn’t live here. He’d been born and beaten and bred on a farm, taught to be one thing—an upright churchgoing farmer. Could he remain in that same web and still break free? Was that even possible? Did he have the courage?

  Would “courage” even cut it?

  He noticed Christie watching the couple too, but as soon as he realized David was looking at him, he turned to the exhibit in front of them and commented on it.

  Christie, David reminded himself, was “out” in New York City for years. He’d probably held hands with a man in public before, had probably done way more than that. He had to find David’s reticence frustrating, backward, and parochial, if not personally insulting.

  The thought of disappointing Christie made something hot and sour surge inside David. And he realized, standing in the middle of the Maori exhibit, he had to shit or get off the pot. He’d been playing around with the idea he could date Christie in his own head for the past few days, in the relative isolation of his own property, without fully committing to it one way or the other.

  Daydreaming never solved anything.

  If he wanted to be with Christie in real life, to deserve that, he had to be prepared to acknowledge his feelings. That was only fair.

  Well. The Philadelphia Art Museum was as good a place as any to start. No one knew him here. He could practice being brave. He took a deep breath and put his shoulders back. He tugged Christie’s hand gently from the pocket of his coat and entwined their fingers.

  Christie glanced at him from under his lashes, his eyes soft. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to,” David said, and he meant it. “Come on.” He pulled Christie to the next display.

  They spent over three hours at the museum, then walked back to the Amtrak station. On the way they stopped and had sushi. David could take or leave raw fish, but the teriyaki and California rolls were good. Mostly he was happy to finally be able to take Christie to a nice meal out.

  “So you’d never want to live in a city like this?” Christie asked as they ate.

  David looked out the window at the busy sidewalk, trying to find an honest answer. “I don’t think I’d mind. I can see it would be exciting. It’s hard for me to imagine, though. I’ve only ever lived on the farm.”

  “You’ve never lived anywhere else? Even for a few months?”

  David shook his head. “I thought about going to college, but then my dad died. It’s probably for the best. I was never that good at school.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re a factoid machine! I swear you have every National Geographic ever printed memorized.”

  David smiled, pleased. “I can learn things when I’m truly interested in them, but I always hated tests. I was terrible at math and English.”

  “God, math!” Christie shuddered. “Why do you think I went to art school?”

  “Because you’re incredibly talented.”

  Christie’s eyes sparkled. “Did you ever think about a different career, maybe when you were little? Like… I don’t know, a pilot? An archaeologist? You’d be so good at something like that, anything with history or geography.”

  His praise sounded sincere. David moved some vegetables around on his plate. Had he thought about it? A million times. He’d thought about selling the farm a million times. But thinking and doing were two different-colored horses. “You never felt like you had to do things because people expected it? Not even, I don’t know, God?”

  Christie thought about it, his face serious. “I guess we all do. I mean, I don’t want to hurt other people. I want to be a good person. I want to do good work. I don’t like lying or stealing and all that. But there’s a difference between doing what you think is right and doing what other people tell you to just because they say so. I mean, are you going to allow your life to be defined by a two-thousand-year-old book or by other people’s opinions? Or are you going to listen to your own heart? Do you know what I mean?”

  David looked at him for a long moment. He wished he was as wise as Christie when he was eighteen. Maybe his life would have been different. Though of course he could never regret having Amy and Joe.

  “I suppose I do.” He ate a few pieces of sushi. “The farm has always been there. There’s always work to be done. I’m my own boss. I’m good at it. I’m doing something productive in society—raising food. I was able to be around when my kids were young….” He shrugged. “If I wanted to do something else, I’d have to pay to go to school for it, and then what if I couldn’t find a job? Plus what would happen to the farm?”

  Christie looked thoughtful. “I can see where the farm life would be good for raising kids. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be critical. I know it’s an important job. I just wondered if you ever wanted something else.”

/>   David swallowed. He’d wanted a lot of other things over the years. But right now only one of them felt important. “I want you,” he said quietly.

  Christie’s eyes grew dark, his expression soft. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I want you too.”

  They finished their dinner in silence.

  Chapter 15

  Christie had hoped taking David out of his environment might grease the wheels on their relationship, ease whatever clog was preventing David from acting on their mutually admitted attraction. But he was still surprised to be quite so right.

  Not only was David enthusiastic company on their trip to Philly, but he was attentive. Like, boyfriend attentive. Once he worked up the nerve to take Christie’s hand, there was rarely a moment for the rest of the day when he wasn’t touching Christie somewhere—placing gentle fingers on the small of Christie’s back as they went through a door, resting a hand on his arm, or standing close enough to brush against each other if they weren’t actually holding hands. At the restaurant he pressed his thigh into Christie’s the whole meal.

  Christie thought a trip to the city might help David move forward, but what he didn’t reckon on was it would make him move forward too, or rather, make him fall another devastating dozen feet on his own slack line above the abyss.

  It was one thing to imagine being with David on the farm. That had the tinge of pure fantasy. It was another to be out with David in a real city with David all handsome and glowing and interesting and treating him like he was something beautiful and fascinating. How the hell was he supposed to handle that? To not want that forever?

  The mood was somber when they got on the train to go home. Their relationship had become a lot more real in just the past few hours. They stayed longer than Christie had planned, and it was four by the time they got on the train. The car they were in was almost deserted, and the sun set not long into the ride. That left them in a compartment with only dim running lights and not a soul visible from their seats.