A Second Harvest (3 page)

The ceremony over, Billy and Kyle hugged their guests. There were about twenty people in the room at the city clerk’s office on Worth Street. Most of them were friends, but Kyle’s mom was there, looking elegant in a peach suit, her mascara running all over her face from her tears. Billy’s parents were there too, quiet and looking a little shell-shocked.

Kyle threw his arms around Christie. “I’m married. Can you believe it?” he whispered in Christie’s ear.

“You’re so lucky. Billy’s an amazing person.”
Please don’t break his heart.

“I know! He’s too good for me, but I’m selfish that way.” Kyle pulled back and gave Christie a starry-eyed smile. “Now we just need to find you a husband too.”

Christie laughed. “Probably not going to happen in Lancaster County.”

Kyle looked sad at that, pouting his lower lip. “Can’t believe you’re leaving me.” He hugged Christie again.

“You left me first.”

“Yes, but it was for a good cause.”

Kyle announced four weeks ago he was moving out of their shared apartment. Christie could have found another roommate, but he decided against it. The apartment was too small a place to live with anyone who wasn’t practically a brother. Besides, it was too close to the clubs and to all their party friends. Too tempting.

Christie needed a change too—a complete and total change. That’s why he decided to let the apartment go, take a six-month hiatus from Manhattan, and go live in the house he inherited from his aunt. That would give him plenty of time to look over all her stuff, get the house ready for market, and sell it. It felt like the right thing to do. She left him the property along with all her worldly possessions. He should look after it himself, not hire some stranger to pick through her things. And he was ready for a break from city life. He’d had a strong sense of nostalgia for the country lately. Ironic. Growing up, he couldn’t escape it fast enough. He never thought he’d miss it in a million years.

“You’ll come back, right?” Kyle asked, studying Christie’s face. “Once you’ve sold your aunt’s place. You’ll be back?”

“I’ll be climbing the walls in a month. Of course I’ll be back! I can’t exactly build a big old gay life in rural Pennsylvania.”

Kyle frowned at that. “Be careful, okay? There are probably a lot of rednecks there. And, you know, Republicans!”

Christie laughed. “I don’t think they hang gays, Kyle.”
At least I hope not.

Billy joined them, putting his big arms around both of them and squeezing. He looked so happy it hurt Christie’s heart. “You two both look gorgeous today. Babe, come say hi to my parents.”

Kyle kissed Billy’s cheek. “I’ll be right there, love.”

Billy moved away and Kyle gave Christie one last embrace. There was a trace of fear in it. “Who would have ever thought? Me married and you leaving the city. We’re going to be okay, right?”

Christie murmured reassurances, but inside, he was scared too.

Chapter 3

A STRANGER
had moved into Ruth Landon’s house. David saw the guy from a distance. He was young, blond, and very “city-looking,” from his expensive boots and tight jeans to his long haircut. He was probably Ruth’s heir. David heard through the neighborhood grapevine that she left her house to a nephew.

He put off his duty, uneasy about talking to the young man. But at last he couldn’t put it off any longer. So after Earl finished the second milking on a Wednesday and went home and all of David’s own work was done for the day, he made up his mind to go over there. He showered, put a TV dinner in the oven to cook while he was out, donned his best suede-and-sheepskin jacket, and walked down the gravel farm lane that led between his place and the Landon property.

The lights were on in the small brick house, so he figured the stranger was home.
This is just business. No need to be nervous.
He knocked on the front door. There was no answer. He tried again.

“Hello?” The stranger came walking around the side of the house. God, he was even more swanky than he looked from afar. This close up, his good looks took David aback. He had light blond hair, which was cut short at the nape but had long sides and bangs that hung over his forehead. He had big blue eyes. His face was delicate, with a long, thin nose, small chin, and a finely drawn mouth. He was of average height but quite thin, and he wore his blue jeans skintight. Small silver rings and balls marched up the curve of both ears. He had on a light-blue long-sleeved T-shirt that matched his eyes, a black down vest, and fur-topped hiking boots. Somehow the entire outfit looked more fashionable than anything David had ever worn in his life.

David’s gaze skittered away, and he found himself focusing on the guy’s vest to avoid his eyes.

“I thought I heard someone knocking on the door. Hi! Who are you?”

The man’s voice was friendly, but it was a little high in pitch, as if he were younger than the midtwenties he appeared to be.

“Hi. I’m David Fisher. I own the farm next door.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. The stranger moved closer and shook it.

“Oh, hi! Yeah, I’ve seen you out working in the field. I’m Christie Landon. My Aunt Ruth used to live here.”

David stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, feeling awkward. “Ruth was a good woman. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Christie frowned. “Thanks. Yeah. I hadn’t seen her for a few years, unfortunately. But she was a very cool lady. Hey, do you mind if we walk around back? I’m burning some leaves, and I’m sort of afraid I’ll set the eastern part of Pennsylvania on fire if I leave them unattended.”

Christie laughed at himself, and David relaxed a little. City or not, Christie didn’t seem judgmental or stuck-up. “Sure.”

Christie led the way around the side of the house. The grass, David noted, desperately needed cutting. It was early October, so it had stopped growing for the year, but it probably hadn’t been mowed in months. It was too long and shouldn’t be left like that over the winter. Maybe he should offer the use of his tractor mower.

Or maybe he should just stay out of Christie Landon’s business.

Ruth had kept an old rusty barrel in the corner of her backyard for burning. David saw her use it many a time. Now puffs of smoke curled out of it, limp and black.

“Um, I wasn’t sure what to do with all the leaves, so I googled it. I read that you can burn them, and Aunt Ruth had this barrel, so I figured that’s what she did. But I’m not sure I’m doing it right.”

He
googled
what to do with fallen leaves? The thought boggled David’s mind, but Christie sounded unsure, and David’s instinct was to be neighborly and help. If there was one thing he knew about, it was the endless task that was fall leaf disposal.

He walked up to the barrel and peered in as best he could with the smoke, but he already knew what was wrong. “The leaves are too wet. That’s why they’re not burning well.”

He allowed himself a glance at Christie’s face to see his reaction. Christie bit his lip and looked sheepish. “Oh. That’s completely logical, isn’t it? I just raked them up and stuck them in there.”

“It rained pretty hard last night. Best to let them lie until they mostly dry out before raking them up.”

Christie nodded. His blue eyes sparkled with wry amusement. “Good to know. Guess I suck at this home ownership thing.”

David blinked at the language. “Suck” wasn’t a word most people he knew would use. He stared at the barrel of leaves, unsure what to say next.
You’ll get used to it? Ask me about leaves anytime?

“So did you just come over to introduce yourself? Or is there something I can do for you, David?”

David felt his neck heat. Right. “Yeah, I, um, wanted to discuss your field.”

“My field?”

David pointed to the west, toward his farm. “Your property extends that way. Two acres of it are part of that cornfield there. Your aunt let me farm it with my acres, and I paid her rent for it once a year in December. So I was wondering if you want to do the same, or if you have other plans for the land.”

“Oh my God!” Christie looked at the field in surprise. “I own
corn
?”

David hid a smile over the amazement in his voice. “Well. Not exactly. You own the land. Your aunt rented it to me for this past year, so technically the corn is mine.”

“How much of that field is mine? Two acres, you said?”

He sounded like he had no idea how to eyeball two acres, so David took a step closer to Christie so he could point. “You see that tree there on the lane? The one with the crooked branch? That’s about where your aunt’s property ends. Follow that straight across toward that red barn over there. What’s in front of it is your two acres.”

“Sick!”

David looked at Christie doubtfully, but he appeared to mean it as a good thing. “Uh, there are markers in the ground, but you can’t see ’em from here.”

Christie took a step back as if to see better, and that put him rather close to David. David wanted to move out of the way, but he didn’t want to appear skittish. His heart started pounding.

“Do you always grow corn there? When do you, um, plow it down? Under? Harvest! That’s the word. When do you harvest it? Is it good to eat? That would be amazing to eat corn that grew on my own land.”

Christie looked over his shoulder at David. His blue eyes had long blond lashes, and they were pretty, too pretty, girl pretty—
and
too darn close
. But they were also inquisitive and lively eyes. Christie’s face, on the other hand, was entirely masculine from this distance. A faint trace of fuzz grew on his chin and above his lip, and his nose and brows were strong. Something about the mix made David feel hot and cold at the same time.

He forced his feet back two steps. “Um. No. Not always corn. Every few years I plant soybeans or a cover crop.”

Christie kept looking at him, curiously now. David half turned away. A light sweat broke out on his back. Why did Christie make him so uncomfortable? He was a grown man, for God’s sake. He’d always been shy with new people, but he should be able to talk over business without getting so nervous. “So… do you still want to rent the field to me? Or maybe you plan to sell this place.”

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much did you pay my aunt to rent the field?”

“Seven hundred a year.”

“That’s all?”

David scratched his neck. “It’s actually high compared to the average price per acre around here. But since it was just two acres, I wanted to make it worth your aunt’s while.” And he also wanted to give the old woman a little bit of income. He didn’t say that.

“Hmm. Well, to be honest, David, I do plan to sell the place. I’m just not sure when. I figured I’d be here for at least six months, but—”

David looked toward the house in an effort to escape Christie’s gaze. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing—smoke coming out of the back screen door. “Hey! Something’s burning!”

“Oh shit!” Christie yelled. He ran for the house.

He banged inside the back door. David stood there stupidly. He didn’t know if he should follow, but it would be rude—not to mention cowardly—to leave Christie to deal with a house fire alone. He ran for the back door.

The kitchen was just inside, and he found Christie taking a cookie sheet of smoking charred lumps out of the oven, coughing.

David held open the back door. “Take it outside!”

Christie nodded and pushed past him with the smoking tray. He put it on the little table Ruth always kept out back. The smoke ascended into the open air.

“I can’t believe I did that!” Christie rolled his eyes at himself. “I set a timer, but I didn’t even hear it out here.”

“Don’t you have a smoke alarm?”

“I… have no idea?” Christie said sheepishly.

David sighed. “Come on. Let’s look for one.”

They went back inside the house. When David visited Ruth in the past, he was only ever in her living room near the front door. It was their December ritual. He came by with his annual rent check and a wrapped ham. She gave him a tin of Christmas cookies and wished his family Merry Christmas. They had a perfectly amiable business relationship, but not a close one.

The little house was sorely in need of updating, David noticed. The wallpaper, paint, and curtains hadn’t been changed in at least two decades. He helped Christie open windows in the kitchen to clear the smoke. Several stuck badly. Then he walked into the attached living room looking for smoke detectors. He didn’t see one.

Christie followed him, not saying a word. When David reached the short hallway that probably led to the bedrooms and bathroom, he stopped and glanced at Christie questioningly.

“Please.” Christie waved a hand at the hallway. “I’d like to know if I need to have one installed. Apparently I’m not to be trusted with anything involving combustion.”

David smiled despite himself at Christie’s choice of words. He liked the smart way the kid talked. He went on. At the end of the small hallway, there was an old smoke detector on the ceiling. It was once white, but it had aged to a gnarly yellow. The light wasn’t on. Given its location, David would bet good money it was the only one in the house.

He needed to take the cover off and check the battery. The ceilings weren’t very high, and he found he could just grasp the unit if he stretched up as far as he could, but his bulky coat restricted his movements. He took it off and laid it on the floor. He reached up with both hands and tried to twist off the cover. It hadn’t been removed in a long time, and it was stuck. Probably that’s why Ruth gave up putting in new batteries. She wouldn’t have had much arm strength at her advanced age. The cover wasn’t sitting in the groove right. He jiggled it with his fingers.

There was a sound like a whimper of protest from Christie. David looked at him, wondering what the problem was, but Christie was studiously looking at the wall, his cheeks a little flushed.

“Sorry, I’m trying not to break it.”

“No, it’s fine.”

The cover finally gave way, turning. David removed it slowly. The inside showed an old battery and a few spiderwebs. “Have you got a nine-volt?”