A Second Harvest (18 page)

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 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 of 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, had been “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 had been 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 that 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.

They sat side by side, silent in a contented way. David had his hands in his coat pockets. But when Christie leaned against his shoulder, he shifted to put his arm around Christie and pull him close. They were nearly the same height while seated, and Christie laid his head on David’s shoulder. And then he couldn’t resist the temptation to tilt up his chin and nose along the ruddy skin of David’s neck. He smelled like the crisp winter air of the city, with earthy, salty base notes. Christie took a little taste with a soft, openmouthed kiss, skimming his tongue over the barest trace of stubble on David’s neck.

In an instant the mood shifted. What was relaxed and contented, introspective, and even a little weary flared into molten heat. David tensed, his breath hitching. He titled his head to the side, inviting Christie’s exploration. What could he do but oblige?

He let his lips travel up and down the corded muscle. His eyelashes brushed David’s jawline and the tip of his tongue made a wet trail that raised gooseflesh. He brushed aside the collar of David’s shirt and sucked just above his collarbone, rhythmically.

David made a low noise and pulled Christie tighter to his neck with the hand that was wrapped around his shoulder. He shifted his hips restlessly in his seat. Christie managed a glance down and saw a magnificent bulge visible under the denim.

Oh God.
Christie was filled with suffocating desire. Tingles of heat washed from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, which he curled in his shoes.

Now
, his body demanded.
Want you right now.

He placed his hand on David’s jaw to urge his chin down and met David’s lips.

This kiss wasn’t hard and tight like their first kiss at the table, or tentatively passionate like their second kiss at the door. No, this was all lush, sensual greed, laving tongues and hitched breath. It was heaven. David pulled him tighter so they were practically chest to chest, his tongue perfectly slick and urgent in Christie’s mouth. Christie put a hand on David’s thigh, squeezed, and let it drift higher. He wanted to feel David so badly he thought he might die.