A Second Harvest (Men of Lancaster County Book 1)

by Eli Easton

  He went back into the workshop, looked in the top drawer of the worktable, then the second one, and then he tugged on the bottom one, just in case it had mysteriously come unstuck at some point. But it didn’t budge. Another problem he’d never gotten around to dealing with.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake!” he shouted out loud.

  Angrily he picked up an ax by the woodpile and brought it down with all his might on the handle of the bottom drawer. The steel handle flew off with a pop and there was a crack from inside. The drawer came open a little. David tossed the ax away and pulled it all the way out. A thick magazine was on the top and it was bent and twisted. It had been jammed in the rollers, and that’s why the drawer was stuck. David pulled it free.

  He was about to toss it on the worktable when he really looked at it.

  On the torn cover was a naked man. David paused, blinking at the magazine. He flipped some pages. It was a male porn magazine, but he’d never seen it before in his life. He looked at it more closely. It was old, older than his own stash. Based on the haircuts and typeset, it looked like it was maybe from the sixties. Inside were lots of black-and-white or garishly colored muscle men with erections and a few feature photo spreads of men with men.

  Realization struck and he dropped the magazine. It hit the floor.

  Oh God. Oh good Lord! That drawer had been stuck since… since….

  It was his father’s magazine. He knew it without a shred of doubt. His father was homosexual too, or at least fantasized about men now and then. Had he ever acted on it? Maybe, maybe not. But he worked so hard on the farm and rarely left, so he couldn’t have had very much of a life outside his marriage. And then he dropped dead in the fields without warning. He didn’t have the opportunity to get rid of the magazine. It was jammed in that drawer all these years.

  Daydreaming never did one chore for you, or got you anything but misery.

  His father. No wonder he as such a miserable man, so stoic and unhappy. He dropped dead at fifty-eight, his heart just giving out. So much work. So much misery.

  For the first time that long, awful night, David felt his eyes prickle with heat. He hadn’t cried over the bliss he felt with Christie nor the rage he felt with Joe. But the thought of his father’s unhappiness unmanned him. If only his father had talked to him. If only they’d been able to talk to each other.

  He breathed long and deep, fighting the pressure in his chest. When it eased and his mind cleared a little, he found he was no longer confused or angry. He knew what the right thing was to do. And he felt at peace about it. Yes. Yes.

  Thank you, God.

  He tossed the magazine in the trash and left the barn.

  David walked down the lane to Christie’s house. It had started to snow and the air was frigid, but he didn’t care. All the way there, he kept rehearsing what he wanted to say in his head.

  I don’t care what anyone says, I want us to be together.

  Say you want that too.

  I’ll sell the farm. We can go wherever you like.

  Say you’ll still want me if I do.

  I love you, Christie. I love you so much it feels like every cell in my body is infected with it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

  Say you love me too.

  The lights were still on in Christie’s house, so he was awake. David jogged the last bit, but when he got to the front door, he found it slightly ajar. That was strange. Nobody kept a door open any longer than absolutely necessary in temperatures like these. The first thought that crossed his mind was Christie was leaving. He was packing up his car or something. Anxiety tripped in his chest.

  Then David pushed the door open and saw him.

  Christie was lying unconscious on the floor, holding his phone. He was only recognizable because of his blond mop of hair, his sweatpants, and long, thin feet. His face was swollen beyond recognition and his body was covered with blood and bruises. One elbow was purple and puffy.

  “Christie!” David dropped to his knees by the body. He went to pull Christie’s head into his lap before he realized he shouldn’t move him. He could have spinal injuries. Christie was breathing, the passage of air through his mouth ragging and wheezing with a slight whistle. Oh Lord. His lungs. Something was wrong with his lungs.

  “Baby, can you hear me?”

  Christie didn’t move. David took the phone from his hand, choking back his horror, but the phone was dead. Frustrated, he tossed it away and was relieved to find his own phone in his coat pocket. Thank God.

  David had the local ambulance service on speed dial from when Susan was ill. He called it now, gave the address, and relayed the situation in a panicked voice to the dispatcher. She assured them they would be there as soon as possible. He hung up and dialed Amy. Another blessing—she picked up.

  “Dad?” She sounded sleepy.

  “Amy, I’m at Christie’s. He’s been badly hurt! Bring our medical kit over and hurry!”

  “What—?”

  “Hurry!”

  He dropped the phone and leaned over the love of his life, trying to see if there was anything he could do. “I’m here, Christie. I called for an ambulance, so hold on. Can you hear me? I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

  Christie didn’t open his eyes. One looked swollen shut, but the other pale eyelid remained closed all on its own. His breathing was so labored the sound of it rattled like death. “Oh God, what can I do?”

  Christie’s hands were both bloodied. It looked like he fought so hard! One appeared to have some broken fingers. David took the less-damaged hand gently in his own. “Christie, I’m here.” David kissed his bloodied knuckles. “I love you so much. Please hang in there. Please don’t leave me.”

  There was the sound of tires braking fast outside, but when the door burst open, it was Amy and Joe, still in their pajamas.

  “Oh no!” Amy gasped in horror.

  “Dad, what happened?” demanded Joe.

  David was still kneeling at Christie’s side, Christie’s hand in his. He shot daggers at his son. “You don’t know? Did you do this?”

  “What, me? Of course not!” Joe looked shocked.

  “Then who did?”

  Amy knelt on the other side of Christie and opened their red first-aid kit. “Dad! We need to focus on Christie right now.”

  Of course. Of course they did. But damn if he didn’t want to kill whoever did this.

  “He’s not breathing right,” David said, his voice shaky.

  “I know.” Amy’s eyes swept over Christie’s bare chest and ribs, where patterns of purple were starting to fill in around dark-red puffy scrapes. “It’s probably a collapsed lung. It looks like he was kicked hard in the ribs.”

  “Oh my Lord.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. A collapsed lung doesn’t have to be fatal. The doctors can fix it. I’m—” she stopped, as if she didn’t want to say more.

  “What?”

  “Uh, I’m more worried about internal bleeding, like if one of his organs is ruptured.”

  David couldn’t stop the desperate sound that came out of his mouth.

  “What can I do?” Joe asked, his voice tight. “Did you call an ambulance?”

  “Yes. Before I called Amy.” David’s hands were shaking now as he compulsively petted Christie’s forearm while holding his hand.

  “Dad, don’t worry, he’ll be all right,” Amy insisted quietly, and it did make David feel better, even though he knew she couldn’t possibly know that for sure. She checked Christie’s skull with her fingers, looking for God knew what.

  What if they kicked him it the head, or worse? Why is he not conscious? What if he has bleeding on the brain? Brain damage?

  Fear overwhelmed David again and he forgot about Amy and Joe. He leaned down closer to stroke Christie’s neck since his face looked too hurt to touch. He tried to reassure him. “I’m here, Christie. The ambulance is coming and Amy’s helping too. I love you so much. So you fight for me, okay? You fight.” W
et stuff splashed onto Christie’s chest. Tears. “We can move back to the city if that’s what you want. That’s what I was coming over to tell you. I won’t let you go. Won’t give you up.”

  There was a distant wail of sirens.

  “Dad.” It was Joe’s voice. He was squatting down next to David. His face looked guilty and pained. “I—I did text Jessie. Jessie Robeson. I told him I’d found you with Christie. I’m…. Oh man. I’m so sorry, Dad. I had no idea he would do something like this. I was angry but… I would never…. I’d never wish anyone hurt like this.”

  David knew Joe was telling the truth. He wasn’t a violent person. But Lord, was he going to make Jessie Robeson pay. “I believe you, Joe.”

  Amy was wrapping up a deep cut on Christie’s arm. She looked up at David, her eyes soft. “I don’t see any head injuries. He’ll be all right. Please don’t be so upset.”

  “But he’s not conscious.” David wiped tears and snot from his face with the crook of his arm. “Please, God.”

  “He has lost some blood, but not enough to be life-threatening. His pulse is slow but steady. He’ll be okay, Dad. Joe, can you grab that afghan?”

  Joe grabbed it and David helped Amy tuck it around Christie.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” Joe said, still sounding guilty, though what he was sorry for, exactly, David didn’t know. Maybe Joe didn’t know either.

  David nodded but his eyes stayed fixed on Christie.

  “Me too, Dad,” Amy said, her voice thick. “I didn’t know you were so miserable. I love you so much. You know I’ll support you no matter what.”

  “Okay,” David said. “Okay.”

  See, my love, it’s not so bad. You have to stay with me now. After all, we have a whole new life to lead, you and I. A new life together. A second chance for both of us.

  As if he’d heard the silent plea, Christie shifted his hand in David’s and squeezed.

  Act IV: Feast

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  “His hands are so little!” a girl of about seven exclaimed.

  “T. rex didn’t need big hands ’cause of his teeth are huge!” Jeremy said. “He could do more with normal-sized hands, just like us.” He made grabby gesture with his fingers.

  “That’s exactly right, Jeremy.” David smiled at the little boy. The five-year-old was a firecracker, that was for sure.

  He was giving a private museum tour to a large family group. It was clear this outing was chosen for the kids’ sake, but everyone seemed to be enjoying it, even the texting teenagers.

  “You can see similar features in some of today’s reptiles—a large mouth and teeth, powerful back legs, and relatively small and dexterous forelimbs,” David explained. “When we go over to the Reptiles and Amphibians wing, I’ll point them out.”

  “I want to see more dinosaurs!” Jeremy insisted.

  “Oh, we’ve got lots more to see here first. What are the scariest dinosaurs, do you think?”

  Jeremy made a big show of thinking about it, putting his finger on his dimpled chin. “Raptors?”

  “I think so too. Let’s go check them out.”

  It was New Year’s Eve day, and David, being low man on the museum totem pole, was working all day. He didn’t mind. He adored just being in the New York Museum of Natural History, much less working there. Normally he worked in archives doing filing and processing and the tours went to docents better qualified than him. But they were all on vacation. Today felt a bit like being an understudy called in for the big show. He was relieved to find no one asked questions he couldn’t handle or grilled him about his credentials. In fact, he felt like a million bucks by the time the museum closed at five thirty. It would be years before the natural history classes he was taking from the NYU extension resulted in a degree, but at least he’d had a taste of what it felt like to be an “expert.”

  A security guard named Frank waved to David as he left. “Have a good New Year’s Eve! And say hi to Christie for me!”

  “You too, Frank. Happy New Years to your family too.”

  He took the subway across the river to the duplex he and Christie were renting in Brooklyn. Inside the house smelled warmly of curry and naan, making his stomach growl.

  He found Christie in the kitchen. “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey!” Christie turned from the stove with a big smile. They met in the middle of the room for a kiss. “How was your big debut?”

  “It went well. Exceptionally well.” David couldn’t keep the pride from his voice.

  “I told you! You know more about that museum than anyone.”

  “Well, that’s not true, but apparently I know enough. It was fun.”

  “I’m so glad.” Christie squeezed him tight before letting go. “Oh my God, Joe and Amy should be here any minute. I’m so nervous.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  David hadn’t spared a worry for Amy and Joe’s arrival all day, but he felt a spark of nerves now. They’d all come a long way since last New Year’s. At this point he and Christie were so solid a Mack Truck couldn’t run them down, but he felt less confident about his kids. This was the first time they were visiting his new place. He just wanted everyone to get along.

  He remembered the horrible night that was last New Year’s Eve. His eyes ran over Christie’s face as he stirred something on the stove. He had a scar on one eyebrow and another on the middle of his lip where it had been split. His nose had been broken, and you could still see a bump. His arm was in a sling for weeks. But fortunately no permanent damage remained. They ran together most mornings, and Christie was as strong as he ever was. Fierce Christie. God, David loved him.

  Evelyn Robeson had been cleared of any foreknowledge of the attack. But Jessie Robeson and his two friends were charged with a hate crime and each given ten years. And David couldn’t find it in himself to feel sorry for them.

  He cleared his throat. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.” He walked over to the stove and scooped some tikka masala sauce off a spoon with a finger. Yum.

  “Who, me?” Christie said, tongue-in-cheek.

  “Uh-huh. This looks amazing.”

  “Do Amy and Joe even like Indian food? I totally forgot to ask.”

  “I have no idea, but they should like it. It’s the best.”

  “Oh God. They’ll hate it, won’t they? I need a glass of wine.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  David poured Christie a glass of merlot and had just handed it to him when the doorbell rang.

  “They’re here!” Christie ripped his apron off and shoved it in a drawer. He was getting way too worked up. David caught his hands and pulled him close.

  “Breathe.” David ran his nose along Christie’s. “Repeat after me: I’m beautiful, I’m sexy, and, gosh darn it, people like me.”

  Christie laughed shakily. “Dork.”

  “Seriously.” David gripped Christie’s face with both hands. “I love you. Okay?”

  Christie blinked his blue eyes and stared at David. He visibly relaxed. “Okay.”

  “So chill out, Stepdad.”

  Christie rolled his eyes. “Shut up! Technically I’m not.”

  “Yet.”

  Christie raised his eyebrows questioningly. David ignored him and went to answer the door. Yeah, he wanted to marry Christie. But he wasn’t going to spoil that surprise just yet.

  “Hey, Dad!”

  Amy and Joe looked cold and a little nervous themselves standing on the stoop. David looked out at the taxi. “Can I pay the driver?”

  “I already got it,” Joe said.

  “Oh. Well… come on in.”

  David took their coats and put them on a coatrack near the door. Their suitcases were set down and he gave them each a hug. It wasn’t his family’s way to hug, but he hadn’t seen them in months. Besides, he’d already figured out sometimes the “way things had always been” wasn’t good enough. He showed them into the living room just as Christie came out of the kitchen.<
br />
  “Hey, guys! I’m so glad you made it safely,” he said.

  “Hi, Christie,” Amy replied a little shyly. “Thanks for having us.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” said Joe.

  There was an awkward moment. David could tell Christie wanted to hug the kids too because it was his way to greet people with hugs. But he refrained, probably not sure his touch would be welcome.

  “This place is really cute, Dad,” Amy said, looking around.

  “Thanks. We like it. Christie did a great job decorating. You know me. I’m a chair-and-one-mug kind of guy.”

  David gave them a little tour. When he put the farm on the market last spring, he was lucky it had sold quickly to a large Amish family. He got a good chunk of money for it, but some of that went to Joe and Amy and the rest into savings. He and Christie agreed they didn’t want to buy a house right away. They wanted to be free to move around and travel if they decided to. But even though he didn’t own the duplex, he was real proud of it.

  The outside of their row house was unassuming old brick, but the iron railings, porch, and window frames were freshly painted. The inside was far better. The previous owner had remodeled and put in a new kitchen and faux hardwood floors. Christie picked out some modern-looking gray furniture at a discount place and accented it with bright rugs and paintings and pillows in purple, moss green, and gray. David loved how it felt modern and a bit sparse. It was low maintenance and classy.

  “Really nice,” Amy commented as he led them around. “You have good taste, Christie. I’m afraid I’m as hopeless as my dad about these things.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. How do you like your new place?”

  Amy had graduated and gotten a nursing job at Lancaster General Hospital over the summer. She’d moved into an apartment with another nurse, but David hadn’t seen it yet.

  She beamed. “I love it! We can walk downtown to eat or go to the farmers’ market. Or to do this….” Amy had kept on a paisley scarf when she took off her coat. She unwrapped it from her head now and took it off. They all stared.

  “Oh, Amy!” Christie said, hand over his mouth. “I love it!”