Semper Fi (13 page)

It was late afternoon as Jim and Cal made their way back through the orchard. Jim was more than ready for a shower and a hot meal.

Cal wiped his hands over and over with an old towel. “You realize my hands are going to smell like shit for days? Even with the gloves.”

Chuckling, Jim shrugged. “You said you were ready to do anything and everything.”

“I’d like to revise my statement to exclude anything and everything having to do with fertilizer.”

“Thought you were ready to get your hands dirty,” Jim teased.

“It’s a figure of speech, my friend.”

“Not here.”

Cal laughed. “No, I guess not. So, do you have any use for that now that Eddie’s gone?” He jerked his chin toward the cabin.

The little wooden building was situated at the bottom of the last long slope before the house and barn, which were just out of sight over the rise. “Not really. I’ll hire seasonal pickers this fall, but they’re day laborers from the area with their own homes.”

As they approached the cabin, Jim eyed it critically. About four hundred and fifty square feet, the one simple room was built of sturdy logs and had two small windows and a shake roof. A few of the shingles had seen better days, but it didn’t really matter since the cabin stood empty.

Cal pushed open the door with his boot, and Jim followed him inside the musty interior. It was as Eddie left it: blankets folded at the foot of the narrow bed against the far wall, logs neatly stacked next to the wood-burning stove, and a bar of soap still resting next to the wash basin. An outhouse sat among the hickory trees skirting the orchard.

In the breeze from the open door, a blue ribbon fluttered across the floor. Cal picked it up. “That’s strange.”

Jim reached out and rubbed the velvet between his fingertips. Ann’s face flickered through his mind, her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. He blinked, pushing away the thought. “Must be Sophie’s. She used to visit Eddie when her chores were done. He was good with her.”

“Makes sense. I’ll bring it back to her. We’re friends now, after all.” The ribbon disappeared into Cal’s pocket.

Jim stepped outside the cabin, glad of the fresh air. “She told me you taught her a rhyme she’s not allowed to repeat to anyone.”

“Did she now?” Cal grinned. “Don’t worry, I went with the tame version, and she doesn’t even get it. She just likes having a secret. She assured me she’s good at secrets, all evidence to the contrary.”

Jim laughed. “I’m glad you’re getting along. I know she didn’t make it easy.”

“I’ve been told I can be difficult myself once or twice over the years.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe just the once.”

“Is that all?”

They shared a smile as they started back toward the house. Cal stopped and pointed. “What’s that contraption?”

“Our old apple press. Eddie made cider from the bruised apples we couldn’t sell.”

The small press, standing waist high, rested against the cabin under the overhang of the roof. Cal cranked the handle of the metal grinder, which was positioned over one of two wooden baskets. He peered in. “So you just put the apples in here, and voila?”

Jim grimaced. “If only.” He pointed to the other basket. The long, blunt-ended metal press hung over top. “First you grind the apples, and then you switch the baskets and press the ground-up fruit to get the juice.”

Cal whistled. “That must be a hell of a job.”

“That’s why we don’t sell much cider. Takes a ton of apples and a ton of work. Eddie liked doing it. Said it relaxed him. But my father always thought it was a waste of time.”

Crouching down, Cal examined the press. “You know, my cousin in Philly works in hydraulics. I bet he could build something that would do all the work for you.”

“Yeah, they have new mechanized presses now. But I don’t think there’s enough money in cider to invest. The Rain Birds cost an arm and a leg and I can’t spare any more body parts.”

“If it’s just money, I can pay for it.”

Here we go
. “I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.”

“Come on, it’s nothing. It would be my pleasure.”

“Cal, you won’t even let me pay you. You’re not buying me some fancy new apple press I don’t even need.”

Cal’s face lit up and he went on as if Jim hadn’t spoken. “Hey, you ever consider making the hard cider? Now that could rake in a profit.”

“I don’t know a thing about brewing. Clover Grove grows and sells apples. Maybe a bit of cider at the local market, but that’s all. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s the way it always has to be. I know a fella in the city in the bar business and—”

“
Cal
. You’re not listening to me. Things are good the way they are.”

For a moment, Cal gazed at him with an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. “Are they?”

Jim frowned. “Of course.” He dropped his hand and turned away. “We should get back. Almost dinner time.”

“Sure. Okay.” Cal fell into step. They walked in silence for a minute before Cal said, “I’m sorry if I was out of line. I just want you to have…everything.”

Sophie and Adam appeared at the top of the rise, running toward them excitedly. “Daddy!”

Feeling very lucky in that moment to have two beautiful children and such a loyal friend, Jim patted Cal on the back. “I have enough.”

Cal whistled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it is spring, isn’t it?”

Jim chuckled as he gazed out at the thin layer of snow over the orchard. Sophie and Adam shrieked with laughter as they tossed snowballs at one another before Sophie had to leave for school. He let the sitting room curtain fall back into place. “It’ll melt by lunchtime. Sometimes Mother Nature just likes to remind us who’s boss.”

“It’s not going to hurt the trees?” Cal asked.

“They’re about to bloom, so we’d better hope winter is through. All these weeks of dryness, and of course now it snows.” Jim tried to ignore the little nugget of concern in his gut. As long as it warmed up again, everything would be just fine.

“Maybe we should take the morning off. We can’t spread any more fertilizer with snow on the ground.”

“No, we’ll have to wait until it melts.”

Cal grinned. “Great. So what do you do for fun around here?”

“Well, I’ve been meaning to clean up the shed where we store the apples during harvest.”

“I think you need to reassess the meaning of the word ‘fun,’ Jim.” Cal sighed dramatically. “All right, let’s get to it.”

In the shed a few hours later, Cal leaned his broom against the wall and wiped his arm across his brow. “Looks pretty shipshape to me.”

Jim glanced around, smiling. “Me too. I really let it go this winter. Thanks for your help.”

“What are friends for? Now I think we need some fresh air. Come on.”

Jim followed Cal behind the barn. The snow was indeed melting, but hadn’t completely gone. His work boots squelched in the wet mess, and he breathed deeply as he gazed out over the rows of trees.

Suddenly a snowball thwacked the back of his head. Sputtering, he scooped up a handful of snow, packing it quickly and firing it back at Cal, who raced off into the trees with Jim in hot pursuit. Onward they ran, farther into the orchard and past the cabin, leaving the barn and house behind. Laughing and hollering, they dove into battle, each finding cover behind a tree and creating an arsenal of snowballs.

With two mighty weapons in his hands, Jim dashed out from behind his tree, zeroing in on Cal’s position and tackling him to the ground. He mashed the snow onto Cal’s head and down the back of his jacket.

Cal squirmed and yelped. “Kamikaze style, huh?” He reached for one of his snowballs and slammed it into Jim’s face. “Take that!”

Laughter echoing in the branches, they wrestled in the wet snow, tumbling over until Jim finally got the upper hand. He straddled Cal’s waist, holding his wrists down. “Admit defeat.”

“Never!” Cal arched up, trying to buck Jim loose.

Jim tightened his grip, a smile splitting his face. It had been so long since he’d had such childish fun. Since he’d felt so free. Filled with gratitude for Cal in that moment, his chest swelling and tight, he leaned down and pressed their lips together.

Amid the snow, Cal’s mouth was so warm, and Jim wanted to fall into him and never stop. But with a sickening sensation, his brain caught up to his body and he tore himself away, stumbling back into the wet snow like a crab.
What have I done?

Cal sat up with a jerk, staring with his mouth agape.

Jim’s throat was sandpaper. “I didn’t…I’m sorry. I don’t know what…I…” He lurched to his feet and ran, humiliation burning in his lungs as he struggled for breath.

Behind him, Cal called out, “Wait! Jim!”

I’m sick and wrong and now I’ve lost my best friend in the world.
Jim forced his legs to move, slipping in the slush and mud. He tripped to his knees just as Cal caught up, reaching for him. Jim shook free and staggered to his feet, but Cal spun him around, gripping his upper arms.

“Just stop and listen to me.” Cal gazed at him intently. “It’s okay.”

Panic flapped against Jim’s ribcage. He cast about for some kind of explanation for his shameful behavior, but had none. “No, it’s not. Of course it’s not! I’m sorry.”

Cal’s expression softened, and he smiled. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

How can he be smiling?
“But…”

One of Cal’s hands drifted up to cradle Jim’s head. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his eyes alight. Leaning in, he whispered it again. “It’s okay.”

Then Cal was kissing him. His still-warm mouth pressed gently against Jim’s. Jim felt strangely in his body and outside it as Cal touched him. One hand caressed Jim’s hair, the other sliding down to his waist.

Cal pulled back an inch, his breath hot against Jim’s lips. “It’s okay.”

Standing in the melting snow, Jim found himself kissing Cal back this time, their mouths moving, lightly stubbled cheeks rasping together. It was so different from kissing Ann, and he knew he should stop, but as Jim took a shaky breath, Cal’s tongue reached out and touched his. It felt so right—so natural—and Jim leaned into Cal, wrapping his arms around his friend’s back. A voice in his mind cried that this was wrong, but it felt so good.

A moan tore from his throat, and desire overtook him like wildfire. He rutted against Cal like an animal in heat, feeling a matching hardness there as Cal groaned into his mouth. Their tongues met with purpose as they panted and rubbed against each other. Jim wanted to have Cal against the nearest tree, wanted to thrust against him—
inside
him.

Tearing himself away, he staggered back, his head spinning. What were they doing? Good God in heaven, what had come over them?

His eyes beseeching, Cal reached out. “Jim, don’t run away. Please.”

His own voice sounded foreign to Jim’s ears. “This is wrong. This is impossible.”

“It’s not. Please just stop. We can talk. We don’t have to do anything else. Just talk to me.”

Shaking his head, Jim ran. His lungs burned and his heart was going to explode. He didn’t think he could ever stop.

“You ever get a gal to suck on your cock?” Sully’s face turned as red as his shorn hair as he blurted out the question.

Arms folded behind his head as he leaned back on his rack in their rectangular wooden hut, Pete smiled widely. “Oh, yeah. Plenty of times.”

With his thick body and the flat nose of a bruiser, Pete wasn’t particularly handsome, but Cal had no doubt the man had had his fair share of women. Cal wouldn’t mind feasting on that meaty cock himself, but quickly steered his mind away from such dangerous territory, and took a swig of beer. “Sully, you just need to find the right girl.”

Guzzling his own drink, Sully leaned back against the hut wall, his bed creaking. “Believe me, I’ve tried. There was one girl at school who let me feel her up after a dance. But she wouldn’t do anything more.”

“Was she a nice girl?” Jim asked.

Cal blinked in surprise. Jim was usually quiet as a church mouse during their nightly down time, nursing a beer or two while the rest of the squad pounded them back as they relaxed on their racks. The conversation topics ranged from baseball to all the ways they were going to destroy the enemy, but returned time and time again to sex and women.