A Second Harvest (Men of Lancaster County Book 1)

by Eli Easton

  David held Christie as he dozed. He couldn’t stop marveling at him—his eyelashes, his jaw, which was growing rough with end-of-day stubble, the masculine body, the soft cock, still so appealing, lying limp on his thigh. David did not regret this. There was no second-guessing, no guilt. For the first time in his life, he’d taken something he truly wanted for himself.

  Maybe someday in the weeks and months and years to come, when Christie was no longer there, maybe the memory of this feeling would shrink enough to make room for self-recrimination. But right now being with Christie was like hot sunlight. And when you were in the sunlight, it was hard to imagine the darkness.

  Chapter 16

  Pastor Mitchell came by on a Wednesday morning in the middle of December. He brought a Bundt cake his wife had made. “A little Christmas cheer,” he said when he handed it over.

  David was patching a drainpipe outside the barn. He put down the tools and took the cake. “Thank you, Pastor.” He didn’t want to linger with the man. He knew he had a rebuking to look forward to for missing so much church. But Pastor Mitchell had visited Susan often when she was sick. David didn’t want to be rude. “Would you like a cup for coffee?”

  “That would be very nice, thank you.”

  They went inside. There was a small Christmas tree in the kitchen by the window. Christie helped David put it up a few days ago. The farm’s kitchen was where they spent most of their evenings, and Christie was enthusiastic about celebrating Christmas this year. He “oohed” and “aahed” over the boxes of old Christmas ornaments, many from when David was a kid.

  David blinked at the tree momentarily, reminded strongly of Christie. Then he made some instant coffee—the sooner to get the minister in and out. He took the two cups over to the table.

  “I see you’re all ready to celebrate the birth of our Lord,” Pastor Mitchell said, taking the coffee cup. He’d been the local Mennonite church’s minister for the past twenty years at least. He was in his sixties and had a large family of his own. He was kindhearted but could be quite dogmatic. David admired him but didn’t particularly like him.

  “More or less. I don’t like to make a huge fuss, especially now that the kids are grown.”

  Pastor Mitchell nodded. “Well, I hope you’ll attend church for the next few weeks. The Christmas services aren’t to be missed.”

  He waited expectantly for an answer. David had to decide if he was going to simply evade the issue or be honest. But Pastor Mitchell had driven all the way out here; he deserved better than to be lied to. And David suddenly found he did want to talk about it. “I’m not sure when I’ll be coming back. I guess I have some issues with church doctrine these days.”

  Pastor Mitchell’s face grew grave. “I’m so sorry to hear that, David. Will you speak with me about it?”

  David fiddled with the arm of the chair. Maybe he should have considered how to word it before he’d started this discussion, but it was too late now. He exhaled a sigh. “I always had issue with certain things, but I went to church for Susan’s sake, and for the kids. Now I find my doubts are first and foremost in my mind.”

  “What is it that you doubt, David? Do you believe in God?”

  “Yes. But I don’t believe God rejects whole groups of people because they’re… they’re Buddhist or Muslim or… or homosexual.” His Nat Geos had taken him to many countries and exposed him to many faiths. It always bothered him how the Mennonite church was so ready to dismiss those billions of people because they weren’t born-again Christians. He had a hard time believing an all-knowing God would be that limited in interest and scope.

  Pastor Mitchell blinked, as if surprised by David’s answer, but he nodded in acknowledgment. “How God judges an individual is up to God at the moment they meet their maker. It’s not up to us.”

  “That’s not what I hear from the pulpit.”

  Pastor Mitchell held up a hand. “However, that doesn’t excuse us from living according to the scriptures to our best and fullest ability. It’s my job to help people understand what the scriptures say. And according to the scripture, those who don’t accept Jesus Christ cannot enter heaven. And sodomy…. Sodomy is a sin, David.”

  David closed his eyes, anger burning in his throat. Yeah, this was only going to get him all upset, and he didn’t need that today. He should just thank the pastor for coming and show him to the door.

  “Tell me exactly what it is that troubles you,” Pastor Mitchell urged, his voice kind.

  Maybe it was the anger, but David found the words. “I’ve raised two kids and a whole lot of animals, and one thing I’ve learned is that all creatures are born with their own personality. You can nudge it this way and that a little, train their behavior through repetition, reward, or fear, but you can’t change their fundamental nature.”

  Pastor Mitchell leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Sin may be part of our fundamental nature because of Eve’s original sin, but we have free will. We can choose God.”

  David shook his head. “Who we desire is part of our fundamental nature. Why would God allow a person to be born with a nature they have to fight or deny their entire lives?”

  Pastor Mitchell frowned. “I don’t know that I agree that homosexuality is instilled in a man from birth. But even if that’s the case, a righteous man can choose not to indulge it. A person might be born with a propensity for gambling or alcohol, but it’s possible to fight it, with God’s help.”

  “It’s not the same thing as drinking or gambling!” David was getting frustrated. “I can’t believe God wants us to go through life without love. Our church allows even ministers to marry, have a family. And you’re supposed to have dedicated your whole life to God.” David’s pulse was pounding in his neck. He’d never argued with anyone from the church before. But he couldn’t seem to hold it back now. He clenched his fists on his thighs.

  Pastor Mitchell looked thoughtful. He stared out the window for a moment, as if deep in thought. “David, is this because of your neighbor? The one who’s homosexual? Joe mentioned to me that you’ve been sharing meals with this man.”

  “Joe told you?” David was shocked and more than a little irritated.

  Pastor Mitchell raised his hands in a soothing gesture. “He came to service last Sunday, and I asked about you. I’ve been worried about you since you haven’t been attending church. Joe confided in me that he was concerned for you himself. He mentioned this neighbor, that’s all.”

  David pursed his lips. It wasn’t Joe’s place to be discussing him with Pastor Mitchell. “Jesus befriended tax collectors and prostitutes. He said, ‘Let those who are without sin cast the first stone.’ I never got the impression we were only supposed to talk to other Christians.”

  “Not at all! We’re to be a light in the world. But he also told Mary Magdalene to go and sin no more. David.” Pastor Mitchell looked at him pityingly. “I don’t believe we should reject homosexuals, but they need to give up their sin and repent. If they persist in their lifestyle, then fellowship with them is problematic.”

  “By ‘sin no more’ you mean they’re supposed to live the rest of their life celibate or force themselves to have carnal relations with a woman they don’t desire.”

  Pastor Mitchell sighed. “God gives each person their own challenges to overcome. If they do, they will be blessed and find peace. Yes, that is what I believe.”

  It made sense the way Pastor Mitchell put it, but David knew, from years of pain, it wasn’t like that. He could feel the truth deep inside him now, rigid as his spine. He was barely alive all those years he lived a so-called righteous life. He hadn’t found peace. He’d been nearly suicidal.

  “Well. Thank you for coming by,” David said. There was no point in arguing further.

  But Pastor Mitchell didn’t get up. He sighed and shook his head. “You wouldn’t be the first to fall away over this issue, David. Homosexuality. Gay marriage. Sometimes it feels like it’s tearing our country, and our church, apart.” He eyed David
with deep concern. “Can I ask if this is purely a theological issue for you, son? Or is it a personal one? Will you pray with me about it?”

  David knew what the pastor was asking. But he wasn’t about to give him an answer. He stood up. “You can pray for me if you like, Pastor, but right now, I need to get back to work.”

  Pastor Mitchell took the hint, but when they got to the door, he turned, his face serious. “David, I’ve known your family for a lot of years, and I know the Fishers were bedrocks of our church long before I got there. You should know that you are an example—to your children, even though they’re grown, and to your community. Whatever you’re wrestling with, you need the church now more than ever. Please come to services. And consider allowing me to counsel you. I want to help. I can come back another time if it’s more convenient.”

  “I’ll think about it,” David conceded. He reached out his hand and the pastor shook it.

  “God be with you, brother.”

  * * *

  Christie spent more and more time with David over the next few weeks. They’d been drawn together before, but that felt like nothing compared to the magnetic pull between them now that they were lovers. The word “greedy” came to Christie’s mind. Fierce Christie. Greedy Christie. He was greedy for every moment of time he could get with David. And if he wasn’t finagling some way for them to be together, David was.

  They ran together three mornings a week. On the mornings they didn’t run together, Christie went over to the farm with David first thing in the morning to get in an hour of physical labor before he started his desk job at home. They texted each other throughout the day, had dinner together every night, and most evenings, David slept at Christie’s house. He’d walk back to the farm after helping Christie clean up dishes. He’d do his evening chores, then come back to spend the night.

  Christie had always been fond of Aunt Ruth’s little bedroom. He splurged when he first arrived on a midnight-blue comforter with cream trim, cream pillows, and high-thread-count blue sheets. But now that David was in his bed at night, it finally felt like his own room, like a little oasis they’d carved out for the two of them.

  Christie tried to savor this first heady bloom of love without worrying about the future, and he could tell David was trying to do the same. They didn’t talk about it. It was too fragile and new, like a beautiful soap bubble. Maybe because they were friends first, now that they were intimate, now that Christie was allowed to touch David, kiss him, and take him to bed, his emotions were already at “ten.”

  David was unlike any man Christie had ever been with. Most guys Christie’s age were so self-centered. David was the opposite of that. He was honorable, family-centered, home-centered. He was humble—almost too much so. And he was curious, still impressed by the world. Best of all he touched Christie like he was always amazed he could do it, couldn’t believe Christie was real. He touched Christie as if he loved him.

  But they didn’t say the words. They were only together about a week when David raised the issue of the holidays. They were lying in bed together at Christie’s house, watching snow fall outside the window.

  “Amy and Joe are coming home for Christmas. My mom and Aunt Gladys are coming up from Florida too.” His eyes were fixed on the snow, but his brow was furrowed into a frown as if he wasn’t sure how Christie would take the news.

  Christie wasn’t surprised, but it felt shitty all the same. He tried to view it practically. No way was he ready for a repeat of Thanksgiving. “That’ll be nice for you. I’m thinking about going to New York for a week. Kyle and Billy invited me to stay with them.”

  “You could see all your old friends. You must miss the city terribly.” David turned his head to look at Christie. There was a note of doubt in his voice, like maybe he was worried Christie would decide he liked it so much he’d just stay.

  “Yes, but I’ll be back.” Christie played with David’s thick hair. He liked to rub his thumb over the bits of gray at his temples. They were thicker, coarser, like literal silver threads.

  The idea of being away from David at Christmas sucked, but they’d been lovers for such a short time. It was way too early to expect David to out himself to his entire family. That battle would come eventually, perhaps, but not yet. If they were still going strong in the New Year, maybe they could tell his kids in the spring or something.

  “I think that’s probably for the best,” David admitted reluctantly. “But I’ll miss you. Won’t be much of a fun Christmas.”

  “Me too. But we can text.”

  David smiled slyly. “Yeah. You’re pretty good at that. But if you send me any naked pictures, give me a warning so I don’t open them at the Christmas table.”

  And like that their plans for the holidays were set.

  One night in mid-December, they were having a dinner of Cajun catfish, coleslaw, and hush puppies when David asked, “I was wondering if you’d mind sleeping at my place tonight?”

  It was the first time he’d suggested anything of the sort. Christie was surprised. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Buella’s close to her time. I’m thinking it might be tonight, so I’d like to be where I can keep an eye on her. And I know you wanted to see it. It’s possible she’ll give birth in the middle of the night.”

  “Absolutely. I don’t want to miss it.”

  David gave him an indulgent smile. “Well, I’ll try to make sure you don’t.”

  After dinner David helped Christie clear the table and then sat back down in his chair and pulled Christie into his lap for a snuggle. He often did things like that for no discernible reason other than the fact it was possible.

  Christie enjoyed the contact, breathing into David’s neck. As usual when they touched, his brain released all sorts of ridiculously warm and fuzzy feelings. It was addictive. “Were you this affectionate with Susan?” He knew he shouldn’t ask, but he needed to know.

  David shook his head. “Once Amy was born, we had a more functional relationship.”

  “Was it like this with her at first?”

  David hesitated. “No. It was never like this.” He rubbed his chin against Christie’s hair. “We met at church. I told you I inherited my dad’s farm at eighteen. It was a big responsibility. My mom encouraged me to find a nice girl and get married. At that age I was in a hurry to be an adult, a man. I was trying to do all the right things. And she was a nice girl. Pretty. And I… I guess I was running away from what I really wanted.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “Yes. Not like this, but in a different way. She was a good woman. She deserved better than me. But I think she was content with the house and the kids, her friends at church, her ladies’ group, her crafts.”

  Christie couldn’t imagine living life for twenty-some years with a wife. “Do you think maybe you’re bisexual?” he asked, stroking David’s neck. “I mean, when you were with her sexually, was it something you enjoyed?”

  David’s hands froze on Christie’s back, and he grew tense. Christie knew David had a hard time criticizing anyone in his family. Probably he didn’t want to say anything disrespectful about his deceased wife.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

  “I’m not interested in women like that. If I’m honest it was always more of a duty than anything else. The sex part. I had to imagine other things when it was going on.”

  “Close your eyes and think of England?”

  David huffed a laugh, relaxing a little. “Englishmen, maybe.” He shook his head. “I’m ashamed to admit it. It sounds so coldhearted and unfair to her.”

  “You’re just being honest.”

  But the subject put David in a down mood. He gently pushed Christie off, and they got busy doing dishes. Later on Christie packed a few things for overnight, and they walked to David’s farm across the dark winter lane.

  Christie brushed his teeth in David’s bathroom and put on the oversized T-shirt he liked to sleep in during the winter months. It felt strange when
he walked into David’s bedroom. It was a big room with distinctly cutesy decor à la Susan. The walls were painted a pale mint green, and the bedspread had big roses on it with lacy frills on the pillows. David was standing by the window, and he ruffled a hand through his hair as if the situation were awkward for him too.

  He pointed to a walkie-talkie on the bedside table. “I’ve got the baby monitor on in the barn, but chances are she won’t make a lot of noise. I’m setting my phone alarm so I can check on her every few hours in the night. Sorry if I disrupt your sleep.”

  “No way, I’m excited about this! I just hope we don’t miss it.”

  They got into David’s bed. Christie knew the sheets must have been washed many times since Susan died, but he still sensed her presence, and it made him shrivel in more ways than one. David leaned over to give Christie a close-mouthed kiss and pulled away again, apparently feeling the same. “’Night, Christie.”

  It would be the first night since they’d gotten together that they didn’t make love. Christie felt a little pang about that, even though he totally understood why. “Good night, David.”

  David cupped his cheek and gazed into his eyes in silent apology.

  “It’s okay,” Christie said. “It’ll get easier.”

  David nodded. “Good night.”

  Christie slept well, even though the bed was softer than he was used to and he was in a new place. He didn’t hear David get up and go out to the barn to check on Buella. When he woke up, there was light flooding the room, and his phone said it was almost eight o’clock.

  He got up, brushed his teeth, washed his face and hands, put his clothes on, and went downstairs to find David. When he reached the kitchen, David was just coming in the back door. He looked tired. Poor guy had probably been up and down all night.

  “I didn’t miss it, did I?” Christie asked.

  “No, she just started. You’ve got a little time yet if you want to have a cup of coffee.”