Cultivating Love

by Addison Albright

  They stepped into the living room. Joe sat next to Ed on the sofa and Bill took the easy chair opposite them, fidgeting. It was a damned awkward situation, and Ed didn’t seem to know where to start either.

  “Look,” Joe said. “From what I’ve heard from each of you, it appears that both Ed and his father were victims of a cruel plan, apparently instigated by Ed’s mother, to keep them apart. Bill, you should know that Ed spent his entire life thinking his father had died before he was born. And he believed that up until last week when the paperwork regarding this farm was delivered to him in Omaha.”

  Bill reared back as if he’d been slapped, and his mouth dropped open. “He—Fred—he tried to get visitation when Ed was little. Susan made stuff up. Horrible things. She even came up with ‘witnesses.’ Fred had a lawyer in Omaha—fought her for years. When Ed was old enough, Fred sent letters to the boy. He never knew if Ed was receiving them or not until he got a reply, about the time Ed was sixteen. Letter claimed to be from Ed. Said to leave him alone. That he didn’t want anything to do with Fred. That Fred disgusted him.”

  Fresh tears streamed down Ed’s cheeks. He choked on his words. “I didn’t…”

  Bill’s pinched face just looked sad. “I believe you.”

  Ed turned to Joe, a heartbreaking hollowness in his eyes. He needed Joe, and Joe didn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms and comfort him.

  “It’s so unfair. She had no right.”

  “I know.” Joe rocked him for a minute.

  Finally, Ed straightened and wiped his face. “He died thinking I hated him. He thought I rejected him.”

  Bill cleared his throat. “He never completely gave up. After getting the letter, he said he’d give you ten years. Give you a chance to mature and get out on your own, maybe learn to think for yourself instead of quoting Susan. He was going to try again.”

  “But then he died.”

  “At least you know he didn’t reject you. He tried to reach you.”

  “Mom died when I was seventeen. If he’d tried then, he’d have known.”

  “After that letter, he just put it out of his mind. Figured pestering you constantly would harden your resolve. Decided to just let it go until the ten years was up. I don’t think he ever knew that she’d died. He would’ve said something.”

  “It helps, knowing he didn’t abandon me. And I’m glad he hadn’t given up. That he was optimistic about me.”

  Bill smiled ruefully. “I thought he was crazy carrying that hope around, but he did. He really did. I’d grown to hate the faceless brat who’d hurt him.” Bill sighed. “I’m glad to know he was right and I was wrong. It chapped my sense of right and wrong knowing you were here living off his hard work after rejecting him like that.”

  “I wouldn’t have rejected him.”

  “I know that now.” Bill paused. “I’m sure he does, too.”

  Ed nodded, then jumped up. “Hold on.” He walked into the kitchen and returned holding the cruise album, which he handed to Bill. “You’re right. You should have this. Dad would have wanted you to have it.”

  Bill’s face relaxed some more. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Well, let me give you my number. If you have any questions about the farm or Fred, give me a call. I’d be happy to help any way I can.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Joe added, “The farm seems to be well organized and well maintained. It’s been quite easy stepping in. Fred did a great job here.”

  “He was a hard worker. I was wondering if y’all knew anything about farming. It does seem as if you’ve got everything under control. I see you’ve got the alfalfa cut and drying. The cattle look good, too.”

  “Joe was raised on a farm,” Ed said. “And he’s been doing seasonal farm work for years. I’m going to have to learn it all, though. I was an auto mechanic.”

  “Oh, yeah? That’s a handy skill to have on a farm.”

  “I can see why. There’s a lot of equipment involved.”

  “And it needs to be maintained properly or it’ll go to hell faster’n those barn cats reproduce.”

  Ed laughed. “I’ll remember that. Joe’s already been emphasizing the importance of maintaining the equipment. Must be something every farm boy gets drilled into him from the time he can walk and talk.”

  “Repairs are costly, although it helps when you can do it yourself.”

  “Thank you, Bill, for clearing up so many of my questions. I would like to go over the family photo albums with you sometime, if you don’t mind. I won’t know who anyone is unless someone can tell me.”

  Bill smiled. “Be happy to. Just let me know when you’re settled in and have some time to spare.”

  “Thank you.”

  Bill reached out to shake hands, but Ed pulled him in for a quick hug.

  “Thanks for making my father happy. I’m glad he had you.”

  When Bill left, Joe and Ed walked into the kitchen. Joe sighed. What a day it had been for breaking into new territories with each other. Lord, the stuff he was learning about himself these past few days.

  * * * *

  Ed lingered in the bathroom, feeling oddly reluctant to join Joe in bed. He now blamed his earlier determination to inject more emotion into their relationship on an afterglow high that was now smothered by the embarrassment of his later emotional outbursts. What had gotten into him, crying on Joe’s shoulder like a big baby? Joe’s face had been inscrutable after Bill left. Ed couldn’t decide whether Joe was gloating at clearly winning the battle to turn him into the consummate bottom-boy, or covering his distaste for the whole sordid, emotional mess.

  Another splash of cold water did nothing to correct the puffy redness around his eyes. He squared his shoulders and made his way to their bedroom.

  A waxing gibbous moon on a cloudless night dimly lit the room, while a slight breeze of cooler air floated in through an open window. The peaceful country night noises soothed his troubled thoughts. Under a sheet, Joe lay silently, his eyes closed, and Ed hoped, asleep.

  But it was too much to hope for. As Ed slipped into place beside him, Joe’s eyes popped open. A gentle smile softened his mouth. The sentiment in his eyes was none of the things Ed had dreaded. It was not a look of gloating humor or triumph. Nor was it a look of disgust or, worse yet, pity. It was plainly a look of happiness.

  Ed found himself pulled into Joe’s arms with a warm mouth pressing soft kisses on his own. Then the happy eyes were again looking into his. “Goodnight, Ed. Welcome home.”

  He smiled reflexively. “Goodnight.”

  It felt like home. He relaxed in Joe’s embrace, listened to his lover’s steady breathing, and fell asleep within minutes, still tangled in Joe’s limbs.

  Chapter 6: Taking Turns

  Ed checked the list as he wheeled the cart through the large farm-and-feed store. Dog food, leather care oil, rubber boots, and rainwear. He hefted a large bag of dog food into the cart, then found the aisle with the leather care products, and selected the oil Joe had specified. Ed was anxious to complete the errands and get home for a lesson in turning the hay. Joe was out in the field now, but had promised Ed a turn when he got back.

  He looked at the aisle markers, trying to determine where to go next, when a man spoke behind him.

  “Can I help you find something, sir?”

  Ed turned. “Raingear, please.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Aisle eleven,” he said before walking away.

  What the hell? Ed looked after him for a moment, then wheeled the cart to aisle eleven. The assortment of boots and raingear available amazed him, but he quickly found everything per Joe’s specifications.

  The salesman at the checkout counter seemed friendly. “You must be Ed Jamison. Amazing how much you look like Fred, only younger, of course.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He was a good man. Sad story, him dying so young. Is it true what they say? You didn’t eve
n know about him ’til after? Your ma told you he’d died before you were born?”

  Clearly Ruby had been busy this past week. “Yes, sir. It’s pretty upsetting.”

  “I imagine so.” He gave Ed the total due, then looked over his shoulder. “Stan, carry out.”

  Stan, the man who’d directed Ed to the raingear, collected his cart. “You in Fred’s truck?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ed paid the salesman, then walked out to the parking lot, where Stan was already loading his bags into the back of the truck. “Thank you.”

  Stan closed the tailgate. “Drive careful now. Would hate to see you get in an accident like your old man.”

  Plainly hearing the contempt in Stan’s voice, Ed stared at him. “What are you saying?”

  “Just saying you should be careful. Have a good day…sir.” He raced away before Ed could question him further.

  Asshole. Was he threatening Ed? Was he implying Fred’s motorcycle crash hadn’t been an accident? Was he trying to worry Ed? If so, it was working.

  Ed shut the door to the truck with a little more force than necessary. He gripped the steering wheel and let loose a frustrated growl. Was this the kind of behavior he could expect from the citizens in Mayfield?

  No, he decided, Stan seemed to be in the minority. Ed shook his head and rolled his shoulders to loosen the building tension. It was clear that most of the townspeople spoke fondly of his father, but it also appeared his father had had a bit of a “don’t ask, don’t tell” deal going on. Everybody had pretty much known his orientation, but it hadn’t been openly acknowledged. Would being open make a difference?

  * * * *

  A short time later, three quarters of a mile from home, he pulled the truck to the side of the gravel road. Weird how quickly he’d already started to think of the farm as “home.”

  Home is where the heart is.

  He pushed the cliché from his mind, or tried to, anyway. But an image of Joe’s smiling face agreeing that, yes, they were solid—were partners—refused to be driven away. There was no denying Ed’s heart was involved. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Was Joe’s?

  Now, he stepped out of the truck, his gaze drawn to the torn-up, matted path veering off to the right. Wind and rain had not yet restored it to match the undamaged sections on either side. He tracked backward from that unsettling trail, but didn’t see anything obvious to have caused his father’s accident. Although, he saw a circular portion of gravel that appeared fresher than the rest. A recently filled pothole, perhaps? Nothing like a fatal accident to get a little roadwork prioritized.

  Presumably, his father had traveled this road frequently. Had he used the motorcycle often? Often enough to be familiar with the terrain from that perspective—to be aware of things that might not stand out when driving a large pickup truck? How big would a hole need to be to cause a motorcycle to wipe out? Hell, there could have been any number of factors. He could have been distracted by a cat, a dog, a rabbit—whatever. He could have been daydreaming rather than paying as close attention as he should have done. There didn’t necessarily need to have been a hole at all.

  The wind blew through Ed’s hair and rippled his shirt. His shoulders drooped as he slowly pivoted in place. This was where his father—a man he’d never met, but who’d apparently cared for him on some level—had taken his last breath. His neck had been broken in the crash, and he’d died instantly. At least that’s what the reports had said. But how truly immediate was “instantly”? Was the word overused? Had there been a moment or two of fade-to-black, knowing he was dying? No doubt he’d had a few seconds leading up to that moment where he’d known he would likely be injured, at the very least.

  What thoughts had flown through his mind during those final ticks of his life? Happy memories? Regrets? He’d probably thought of Bill. Had he spared a flash of an instant to think of the son he’d never met?

  Ed’s chin trembled, and he felt chilled, despite the sun beating down. He sniffed, and turned back to the truck.

  * * * *

  Joe wasn’t at all surprised that Ed quickly learned how to operate the tractor and accurately pull the hay rake through the field. He’d let Ed finish the afternoon in the field while he’d reorganized the stuff in the barn and outbuildings to get a more detailed idea of what they had.

  As he stepped out of the barn, he saw Ed putting away the small tractor. Apparently, he had finished hauling the corn to the cattle feeder trough. But Joe was sure something was bothering Ed. He’d been somewhat subdued after the encounter with Bill, but had returned to his old self rather quickly. Today, though, he seemed downright morose.

  They met at the front of the house, and Joe put a hand on Ed’s shoulder. God, he was tense. “Something up?”

  Ed sighed. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t let it bother me.”

  “Was it that guy at the farm and feed store?” Joe’s brow wrinkled when Ed nodded. “Tell me about it.”

  They stopped on the porch. Ed sighed again. “I guess it’s probably the same guy who was rude to you. I don’t know. It’s not so much what he said, as how he said it.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me to drive carefully. But with the look on his face and how he said it, I felt he was implying my father’s accident wasn’t an accident, or that I should watch my back. It felt like a threat, not a friendly warning. He was trying to scare me.”

  Joe’s face heated. That went a bit beyond his own experience with the man. “Damn it. Do you think he’s just taking the harassment a bit far, trying to get a rise out of us? You’ve said your father’s death was ruled an accident. He lost control at a bad spot in the road.”

  “I know. There were even witnesses, so he’s full of shit as far as that goes.”

  “You’re right, though. He’s trying to frighten you. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

  “Shit. I guess you’re right. He’s just the meanest asshole I’ve had to deal with. He’s blowing hot air, trying to scare me, and I’m not going to let him. I usually don’t. It’s just…”

  Joe knew Ed’s emotions had been raw lately. “A lot’s happened the past few days. It’ll get better.”

  Ed smiled wryly. “Sorry I’ve been so weird. I stopped at the accident site on the way home, too, so that’s not helping my mood any.” He heaved another sigh. “Not what you signed on for, I know.”

  Joe leaned over for a quick kiss. “I signed on for the whole package—the good, the bad, and the ugly.” He smiled at the questioning look in Ed’s eyes. “And I fully expect your shoulder to be ready for me if I need it someday, too.”

  Ed laughed, the smile back in his eyes. “You can count on it.”

  They entered the house and headed straight for the bedroom. “You can shower first,” Joe said.

  Ed stripped, tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper before going to the bathroom. Joe added his clothes to the dirty pile and pulled clean ones from the dresser.

  He entered the bathroom to find Ed toweling off. The sight of the lean muscles flexing as he bent over drying his legs sent a flash of desire straight to Joe’s cock. “Jesus.”

  Ed looked up and grinned, no doubt at the dopey expression on his face. “I know, I know. It’s your turn.”

  It was, wasn’t it? But not necessarily in the way Ed meant. Joe waggled his eyebrows. Ed was looking particularly tasty, and Joe meant to do something about it. “Wait in the bedroom for me?”

  Ed snorted and picked up his toothbrush. “I’ll be there.”

  Sweet.

  Joe’s shower was hot but fast. He toweled off and brushed his teeth, losing no time. When he entered the bedroom, he saw Ed lazing on the bed. He sat up as Joe crossed the room, but Joe pushed him down, crawling forward on the mattress until their mouths met.

  Ed pulled him in tightly, and his erection strained against Joe’s hard length. He loved the new openness in their relationship and was determined to give Ed the best blowjob he could, considering his lac
k of experience. He’d resisted the desire for too long, and he hated the reason why. Hated that he’d taken his father’s awful words to heart and had let them affect his actions.

  “You’re a cocksucker? A goddamned cocksucker?”

  Joe pushed back his father’s words and determinedly replaced them with Ed’s.

  “We’re solid, right?”

  Yeah, they were solid. It was past time he turned around the hurtful names his father had thrown at him and lived life for himself. He wanted to suck Ed’s cock. It was time to own that term, and he loved that Ed didn’t know what was coming.

  He broke their kiss and moved to Ed’s neck to nibble and nip down one side. He settled in when he reached Ed’s collarbone and sucked. Ed’s breath caught, and his fingers dug into Joe’s hips. Joe had never marked Ed before, but Ed’s head tilted to the side, giving his wordless “okay.”

  When Ed moaned and bucked beneath him, Joe unlatched his lips from Ed’s skin and tenderly tongued the spot before moving lower. He paused to tease his tongue over and around the raised nipples.

  Ed writhed beneath him, his erection prodding at Joe’s belly, before gasping. “Jesus, Joe. Fuck!”

  Joe slid a hand down Ed’s side. “Not today. Another time, though. I promise.”

  “Oh, God.”

  Joe traveled lower, nipping along the side of Ed’s taut abs before stopping at his hip bone. Ed’s legs splayed out, giving Joe room to settle between them. Ed groaned when Joe started sucking up another mark. He moved a hand to Ed’s other hip and lightly circled the corresponding spot with his fingertips.

  Ed’s hands fisted the bed sheets at his side. He squirmed and choked out a gurgling noise. Joe smiled, then licked and kissed the fresh mark before he nuzzled the base of Ed’s cock. Damn, he smelled good. Fresh and clean, yet warm and musky.

  “Oh, God, Joe!” Hands moved to Joe’s head. His own cock leapt, and a shiver rippled along his spine—he was getting off on Ed’s reaction.

  Joe’s hands stayed at Ed’s hips, and his tongue teased along the underside of the swollen cock. He swirled his tongue around the head, eliciting more moans from his lover, then opened to take the cock into his mouth.