A Second Harvest (25 page)

“Daddy?”

David opened his eyes and forced his voice to be level. “Christie, I need to discuss this with Amy and Joe alone first. Okay? I’ll call you later.”

Christie didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. His expression was still dark with worry and with defiance too. His eyes flashed daggers at Joe. God help them all if he ever left Christie and Joe alone in the same room.

This was a disaster.

BACK AT
the farm, Amy and Joe were waiting for David by the door. They filed in the house without talking. Joe’s every body movement was one of suppressed frustration. He shut the back door too hard and all but flung himself into a chair at the kitchen table, texting on his damned phone. Amy looked hurt. Her face was pale and drawn. She sat in a chair at the kitchen table with Joe and stared into space.

Dear Lord, this is it. This is the moment I lose my kids forever.

This was what he’d feared and avoided his whole life. But now that it was here, he found he couldn’t regret what he’d done. Couldn’t regret Christie. Some of the heaviest chains that bound him all his life had fallen off, and he wouldn’t put them back on, no matter what the consequences were.

He put his coat on the back of his chair, went to the fridge and poured three glasses of apple juice, and carried them over to the table, trying to present a calmer facade than was real. He prayed silently for wisdom and guidance in this conversation, but he had no confidence God was listening.

As soon as he sat down, Joe put his phone away and began. “How could you let that happen?
Why
?
Why would you… I mean… a
man
, Dad. He’s a man!”

“Be quiet, Joe.”

“No, I don’t think so! Not this time!”

David felt a sour spike of anger. “
Yes
. Shut it. I have something to say, and I’d appreciate it if you’d be quiet enough to let me speak in my own dang house.”

“Please talk, Daddy.” Amy straightened her spine, and she looked at him with troubled eyes. “I want to hear what you have to say. Joe, just let Dad talk.”

Joe shook his head and slouched down in his chair, but he didn’t argue further. He didn’t look like he was in a receptive mood, but that was just too damn bad.

David looked down at his hands on the table. The words were so hard. So, so hard. It felt like vipers were crawling their way up his throat. “I guess… I guess I was born with an attraction to men. I’ve spent most of my life fighting it.”

“What?” Joe burst out. “That’s crap! This is all about that Christie guy. Just because he’s young and—”

“Joseph Fisher, I am talking!”

“Just be quiet, Joe. Daddy, go on.”

David silently gritted his teeth. “I tried to do the right thing. Your granddad was not an easy man. And the church said it was a sin.”

“It
is
a sin,” Joe put in.

David ignored him. “I did love your mother, in my way. We were young when we got married, you guys know that. I did the best I could for her.”

“If you’ve been doing so well all these years, why screw it up now?” Joe demanded.

David gave Joe a disbelieving look. “Because,
Joe
, I’m too young to sit around this farm waiting to die. And because….” He swallowed. “Because I’m in love with Christie Landon.”

There was absolute silence at the table. Joe’s mouth fell open and his complexion went a grayish red. Amy looked just as stunned, but after a moment, she blinked and shook her head, as if in denial. “Is this… I mean, are you
sure
? He’s so young and…. How long have you been seeing him?” She sounded so doubtful.

David nodded tersely, even while his insides tumbled with stress. “He’s thirty years old. And yes, I’m sure.”

Her brow furrowed. “But he’s…. I mean, does he feel the same way? Are you sure he’s not just messing with you?”

“Of course he’s messing with him!” Joe shouted. “He’s going to move back to the city, and that will be the end of that. And you’re going to be left to face the fallout, Dad. With the church. With… with your family. What is Gran going to say, huh? Or Amanda and her family? Is anyone going to want to do business with the farm? Have you thought about that at all? This isn’t only about you, Dad. You’re going to totally ruin things for Amy and me too! And what about mom’s memory?”

David lost it. It was too much. To go from the heights he experienced tonight, seeing Christie again, holding him, what they did in bed, to
this
, this accusation and imposed shame and… and
pure
selfishness
.

Something inside him snapped. There was an old china teapot that sat in the middle of the kitchen table with the salt and pepper shakers. Susan had kept it there for years. Now it was the closest missile at hand. David stood up abruptly, his chair falling over. He picked up the china teapot and threw it at the back wall where it smashed into a thousand pieces.

“Daddy!” Amy shouted, outraged. “That was Mom’s!”

David couldn’t care less. He looked around and grabbed the next thing at hand, a picture of a farm scene on the wall. He tore it off its hook and threw it at the wall too. It cracked and fell.

“Dad!”

It wasn’t enough, not nearly. He took a step and opened the nearest cupboard door. Inside were glass mason jars Susan had used for canning, dozens of them. He grabbed some with both hands and started lobbing them at the back wall with all his might like a baseball pitcher.
Crash. Crash. Crash.

He had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was he was filled with rage, sadness, bitterness…. There was
so much anger
inside him, and it had to come out. Better the dishes than Joe or, God forbid, the shotgun he kept up in the bedroom, the one he sometimes imagined aiming at his own head.
Crash.

He heard himself shouting, but he was barely aware of forming the words. “Your mother’s memory? Really? I’m supposed to stay locked up in this house forever for
your mother’s memory
? Did it ever occur to you that I want a life too?”
Crash.

Amy and Joe retreated to the kitchen doorway, as far from him as they could get.
Crash.

“Do this, David, do that! Go to the store! Feed the cows! Do the milking! Get married! Put money in the bank! Stop daydreaming! Go to church! Marry Evelyn Robeson! I’m sick of it!”
Crash.

“What about me? You get to go to college! You get a life! You get someone to pay your way!”
Crash.
“Am I just supposed to sit down and shut up and do what everyone else wants
my entire life
?”
Crash.
“I wanted something for me. I reached out for something just
for me
, for once in my life!”
Crash.

Amy’s sobs broke through the haze in his mind. He turned to see her crying in the doorway, her hands over her mouth. Big, bone-deep sobs choked out of her throat. Joe, next to her, was pale and shaken like he was terrified of his own father. And suddenly, as if he’d been slapped, the anger drained out of him. He felt exhausted and like a total bully. He’d scared his kids.

“I’m sorry,” David whispered. “I shouldn’t have….” He found he still had a mason jar in one hand. He put it on the counter, grabbed his coat from the floor, and went out the back door.

Chapter 21

AFTER DAVID
left with his kids, Christie slumped against the front door, forehead pressed to the wood. He heard the angry slamming of car doors, heard Joe pull away with squealing tires, and the reversing of David’s truck from the driveway. Then they were gone, and it was silent.

Christie heaved in deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.
That
had not been good, not good at all. He felt nauseous.

You knew this day was coming. There was no avoiding it.

Yes, but why, for God’s sake, did it have to happen like that? On New Year’s Eve, yet? With Joe and Amy arriving like a crashing freight train into
his
home and their private time together? He figured David would have to tell his kids eventually, maybe sit them down for a quiet conversation at his house. And maybe once they were done screaming, Christie would be slowly introduced. Not like this. This was
the worst
.

Yes, possibly one of the worst moments of his entire life, if not
the
worst.

Something hot stung his cheeks. Tears. Goddamn it. He punched the door. He didn’t care about himself. Those two could be disgusted all they wanted with him. He didn’t want to care what they thought, but David cared. They were his
children
. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that, to be yelled at and slut shamed.

How would David handle it? What if this was too much? What if the ruts of his life ran too deep after all?
I think it’s for the best if we stop seeing each other.
David would avoid his eyes when he said it. Maybe he’d give up, live the rest of his life married to some church lady or alone.

“No!” Christie said it out loud and pushed back from the door. “Hell no!”

David was
his
. He made David happy, and David made him happy, and everyone else could go take a long run off a short pier. But… it wasn’t his battle to fight. It was David’s. All Christie could do was hope he was strong enough to fight it and be ready to comfort and support him as soon as he could.

He paced in the living room, looked at the clock. It was twelve fifteen. They’d missed New Year’s entirely. Great.

He grabbed his phone and hesitated. Kyle would be partying in Times Square. But it was after the golden hour, so maybe he was on his way home…. He sent a text. It was only a matter of minutes before his phone rang. Caller ID said
Kyle
.

“What’s up?” Kyle sounded worried, and his voice was raised over background noise.

“Oh God, Kyle! I’m so sorry to bother you. But something terrible happened.”

“It’s fine. We’re just making our way to the subway. Tell me.”

Christie described what had happened, his voice alternating between hard and angry and quivering.

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry!” Kyle cooed. “That
sucks ass
. And on New Year’s Eve too!”

“I’m… I’m so scared,” Christie admitted. He dropped onto the couch and pulled the afghan around him. His hands and feet were icy, and he was shivering. It had little to do with the temperature in the house or the fact he still wore nothing but sweatpants.

“Oh, sweetie!”

“What if he dumps me, Kyle? I don’t think I can take it.”

“If he does, then he would have skipped out sooner or later. You know that, babe. No one can walk out of a closet for someone else. He has to do that all on his own.”

“I know,” Christie whispered.

“Besides, if he lets you go, he’s a total idiot.”

“No, he’s a good man. That’s what worries me. He’s such a good man. What if he decides to sacrifice his own happiness for his kids? Or what if they convince him it’s a sin and he repents or something?”

“Christie, listen to me. If he really loves you and he’s not a total pussy, he will stand up for you and tell his kids to mind their own business. If he doesn’t, he’s not worth it.”

In his heart Christie knew that was true. He also knew David was not a pushover and they had an incredibly strong connection. Tonight was incredible before they were interrupted. He had to have faith in his boyfriend.

“It’s fine,” Christie said, taking a deep breath. “I’m just freaking out right now. I’m sure David won’t change his mind. I just feel so bad for him. It’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not fair,” Kyle agreed sadly. “But it must be weird for them, right? Like suddenly their dad is gay? And they have to feel sort of betrayed and weird about their mom and everything. Maybe it just needs to sink in, and they’ll come around. All the news reports say the younger generation is more open-minded, even in churches.”

“That’s true.” Christie remembered Joe’s face. He didn’t think Joe would ever come around. Amy? Maybe. At least she seemed like a sweet person.

Who had a little crush on you.
Yeah, that didn’t help.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Christie’s heart leapt and he sat up. “I think David’s back. I’ve got to go.”

“Oh good! Text me later and let me know you’re okay?”

“I will. Thanks for the talk. I love you so much!”

“I love you too, babe! Mwaaa!”

Christie hung up and tossed the phone on the couch next to him. He was walking toward the door with a smile when something smashed through the front window. Glass flew, something stung Christie’s cheek, and the world tilted on its axis.

Christie stood frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the large rock and smattering of glass on the living room rug. And then the front door was kicked in.

THREE STRANGERS
walked into Christie’s house. He didn’t recognize any of their faces, but he knew why they were there. They were young, rough, and their faces radiated hate. They were bullies,
gay bashers
.

He spun and dived for his phone. He had to call 911. But the phone was kicked from his hand with a steel-toed boot. His fingers screamed in pain and the phone went flying into the wall. He heard it crack.

That’s my new iPhone, motherfuckers
!

He momentarily considered running for the back door. But he probably couldn’t outrun all three of them, not without a head start. Instead he stood tall, crossed his arms over his chest, ignored the agony in his fingers, and glared at the strangers.

They were drunk. He could smell it on them and see it on their faces. God knew Christie had seen enough drunks in the bars. The one on the left, the tallest one, was skinny but mean looking with a red beard, acne, and a Stones sweatshirt. His fists were clenched. The guy on the right was overweight, snub-nosed, and sneering. Under a brown coat he had an orange sweatshirt with deer antlers on the front. He held a baseball bat. The guy in the middle had long, curly dark hair, floppy lips over gnarly teeth, and he wore a dark-blue parka vest over a black hoodie. He held a knife in his right hand.