by Eli Easton
“You’re fast,” Amy said. “Dad says you’re quite the chef. So what’s the plan?”
“Cornbread and sausage stuffing. I cooked the sausage last night. It’s in that red container. You can sauté the onions if you’d like. The pan’s hot.”
Amy came around the counter and found the onions Christie must have chopped the night before. She put them in a pan that contained melted butter. “So Dad says you live in that house at the end of the lane?”
“Yes. My Aunt Ruth left it to me.” Chop, chop, chop.
“That’s nice. Do you work in this area?”
“I’m a graphic designer. I work from home.”
“Oh cool! What sort of things do you do?”
Christie slid the chopped celery and bits of carrot into the pan with the onions, and David decided things were going okay. He could go get cleaned up. He said as much, and they both waved him off, so he went upstairs.
By the time he showered, changed into a nice shirt and pants, and made it back downstairs, Joe was awake. He was sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee and a muffin. He watched Christie stuff the bird from a mix in a big bowl while Amy stirred a pot on the stove.
“Morning, Joe. I guess you’ve met Christie Landon. He’s Ruth Landon’s nephew. You remember our neighbor Ruth. She passed last year, and Christie moved into her place.”
“Amy already introduced us, Dad.” Joe’s tone was flat.
“Okay. Great.” David wasn’t sure what else to say. He took a muffin. “How are these?” he asked Joe, since he was eating one.
“Good,” Joe said without much inflection. He took another big bite of his.
He was watching Christie, his face a neutral mask. But David sensed disapproval, and it caused a flush of irritation he swallowed down. Sometimes Joe reminded David of his father. He was built just like him—short at five eight, and stocky in that Germanic way. He had the same dark hair and thick, forward jaw. Joe was like his grandfather in other ways as well. He was deeply religious and had strong opinions of right and wrong.
“That stuffing looks so yummy. I can’t wait to taste it.” Amy was all smiles. “Doesn’t it look good, Dad?”
“I’m sure it’ll be great. I told you Christie is a wonderful cook.”
Christie looked up at David and gave him a warm smile. “I just need to truss this up and we can get it in the oven. David, can you look in my bags and find a little pack of skewers?”
David looked and found the packet. He opened it and removed what looked like long straight pins with a loop on one end. He handed them to Christie, who used them to close up the skin at the turkey’s cavity over the stuffing.
David took a muffin and had a bite while he watched. They had bran and oats and dried cherries and walnuts. So good.
“There! All set.” Christie took the pan Amy was minding and poured a butter mixture over the bird. He picked up the roasting rack, and David hurried to open the oven door. Christie slid the turkey inside. “We’ll need to baste every thirty minutes. Can you set the timer on the microwave, Amy?”
“Sure.” Amy punched the numbers in on the microwave’s timer function.
“Oh, almost forgot. I was going to put a little foil over the breast. David, can you grab some foil?”
David looked around the kitchen, trying to remember where Susan kept it.
“It’s in the third drawer down next to the fridge,” Christie said.
David found the foil and handed it over. Christie made a little tent and opened the oven to put it over the bird.
David went back to the counter to finish his muffin and found Joe staring at him with a frown.
“What?” David asked.
“How did you two get to know one another?” Joe asked, looking from David to Christie.
“Yeah, Dad,” Amy said. “I was wondering too.”
“Christie likes to cook, so we made a deal. I pay for half the groceries, and he does the cooking. It’s been a real blessing. A real blessing.” He said the last firmly, gave Christie a grateful look. He didn’t want Joe’s stiffness to put Christie off.
“That’s wonderful, Dad.” Amy gave Joe a glare. “I’m so glad you’ve been getting good meals and some company too. You spend so much time alone on this farm.” She smiled at Christie. “So… what else is on the menu?”
Christie took his phone out of his pocket and looked at it, scrolled. “The cranberry salad is already made and in the fridge. We don’t need to start the sweet potatoes yet.”
Amy stepped closer to look over his shoulder, and Christie held the phone out so she could see it too. “Oh yum! I love roasted brussel sprouts.”
Joe turned toward David. “So Dad, what’s new here? Have you got the tractor running yet? How much did you get for the corn this year?”
It felt like an escape hatch to talk about something ordinary, and also distract Joe, so David took it. He ended up taking Joe out to the barn to look at the tractor. Christie insisted they were fine and practically shooed them out. Probably he didn’t feel any more comfortable around Joe than Joe felt around him.
When they got back from the barn, Christie had gone home to get something, Amy said. He returned a few hours later, and by then it was time to prep the last-minute dishes, and the kitchen turned into the equivalent of a speedway pit. Amy was Christie’s sous chef, doing whatever task he set her to. David tried to help but mostly got in the way. Joe disappeared upstairs.
They sat down to eat early afternoon. Christie had made a centerpiece for the table with some straw from the barn, a pumpkin, candles, nuts, pomegranates, and leaves. It looked like a decoration from a magazine. And the meal! Even by Christie’s normally perfectionist standards, he’d outdone himself. The turkey was golden brown all over and wonderfully moist. There were homemade rolls, sweet potatoes in a candied bourbon sauce, mashed garlic potatoes, orange balsamic roasted brussels sprouts, cornbread-sausage stuffing, and a chunky fresh cranberry dish with walnuts that was better than the goopy stuff Susan used to get out of a can. The gravy was so good it made David want to moan when Christie let him taste a little on a clean spoon in the kitchen.
When they were seated, Joe spoke up. “Do you mind if I say the blessing, Dad?”
“Go ahead, Joe.”
They all took hands around the table. Christie was between David and Amy, so David held Christie’s hand in his left and Joe’s in his right. He shut his eyes.
“Our Heavenly Father, thank you for bringing us together for this celebration of thanksgiving and for the bounty of food on our table.”
Christie’s hand was large, but he had soft skin. It was a little damp, probably from all the kitchen work. David swallowed a lump in his throat.
“When I think about the things we have to be especially grateful for this year, I think about our good fortune, Amy and me, to have been raised by a loving Christian mother and father. Even though Mom is in heaven with you now, Lord, I know she’s looking over us and encouraging us, with love, to remain true to you and to the ways of Christ she established in our home.”
“Yes, Lord,” said Amy.
Christie squeezed David’s hand a little. David swept his thumb across Christie’s knuckles to reassure him. It was disconcerting to hold Christie’s hand, made David both happy and deeply anxious at the same time, like he felt on the snowmobile.
“I think about the blessing of your church and your Word, which teaches us what is holy and what is sin, and helps us to reject the ways of the wicked, Lord. I think about the joy of Christian fellowship with those in the church. These friendships nurture our hearts as well as our immortal souls.”
David was only half paying attention to Joe’s blessing, but when Christie tried to pull away his hand, it sank in what Joe just said. It was a dig at them, to be sure.
“And Lord—”
“Amen,” David said loudly. He dropped Christie and Joe’s hands and opened his eyes. “Thank you, Joe,” he said briskly.
Joe shot him a loo
k but muttered, “Amen.”
“Amen,” said Amy.
“So who wants some of these sinfully delicious sweet potatoes?” Christie said a little too brightly.
Chapter 10
The meal turned out well, which topped Christie’s own personal “list of things to be grateful for.” He’d wanted to impress David’s family. And they all commented on how good everything was, repeatedly. Even Joe grudgingly said the turkey was the best he’d ever had.
But Christie’s appetite was hollow. He was full after a dozen bites, probably because his stomach was currently full of bitter acid.
He was hurt, and he didn’t like the feeling. It was stupid. He’d told himself not to expect much from David’s kids. He told himself before the day even began to just go with the flow, be a little mouse in the corner. It was nice David even included him, and this day wasn’t about him. But it was hard. These were David’s children, for God’s sake. They were important in his life. And Christie was….
Christie was in way over his fucking head. He cared about David too much. It stung to sit in David’s home and listen to Joe’s reminders during prayer that it was his mother who belonged at this table, not Christie, that David belonged to them.
It was true, so why did it hurt? David was his friend, nothing more. He wasn’t a husband, partner, or even boyfriend. Friends. But even that chaste relationship, apparently, was not something Joe Fisher approved of.
Amy was a sweetheart, but she was way more conservative than even the church women Christie grew up with. She’d explained while they were cooking that she had never cut her hair. Women in her church were allowed to, but her own mother never did, and Amy decided to wait until she was married in case her husband preferred it long. She was also a little more interested in Christie than was a good idea, but that awkwardness beat the hell out of Joe’s reaction.
When David passed the gravy to Christie, he put a hand on Christie’s upper arm and smiled briefly. Christie smiled back, but when he looked away, Joe was staring at him with cold eyes.
Christie poured gravy on his potatoes, his pulse hammering. That look! Joe knew. Joe knew he was gay. It had been a long, long time since Christie felt any anxiety about that, but he did now. It wasn’t that he gave a shit what Joe thought, but he did care what he might say to David. Damn it. He should have made sure David knew he was gay a long time ago. At the start. Now it would seem like he’d been hiding it.
Joe and David talked about his classes. Joe was taking Old Testament law this semester, which made Christie want to chuck biscuits at his head. But Amy found it interesting.
“Why do they even have you study that? Jesus overturned so many of those old laws,” she asked.
“Jesus said he came to fulfill the law, not destroy it,” Joe rebutted.
“Yes, but we don’t avoid shellfish or pork anymore,” Amy countered. “He said ‘turn the other cheek,’ not ‘eye for an eye.’”
“We need to understand the Bible in its entirety. It’s our history, and it’s the word of God.”
“Isn’t sharia law based on the Old Testament?” Christie put in innocently. “Stoning women who aren’t virgins, that sort of thing?”
Joe smiled thinly. “‘Sharia law’ is Muslim. And it’s based on the Quran, not the Bible.” He used an instructional tone, like Christie was being ignorant. He’d missed the shade, then. Too bad.
“So! Buella’s about to give birth,” David put in quickly.
“Who?” Amy asked.
David blushed. “One of my herd. Thought it might happen this week while you all are here.”
“That would be nice,” Amy said. She turned to Christie. “Have you ever seen a calving? It’s really interesting and, gosh, are calves cute when they’re that little.”
“No, but I’d like to see it. I asked David to text me when Buella goes into labor, no matter what time it is.” He smiled at David, who smiled back.
“I’ve been giving Christie quite the farm education. He’s been helping me out some.”
“How is it that you have so much extra time on your hands?” Joe asked to Christie. “I thought Amy said you worked a job from home.”
“Yes, Joe, I do. But I’m always happy to spend any spare time I have with your father.” Christie dug the words in with a verbal heel, looking Joe steadily in the eyes.
David coughed. “Wow, this stuffing is delicious. Huh, Am?”
“Really good, Dad,” Amy agreed, seemingly oblivious.
“What classes are you taking, Amy?” Christie asked cheerfully. “Your dad says you’re in nursing?”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! It’s hard, but I love it. This semester….”
She talked about her life at school for a bit, which was at least a neutral topic. But the tension at the table never lessened one iota, at least not for Christie. After the longest meal ever, probably in the history of mankind, it was finally time to clear the table. He popped up and took a load of plates to the sink. David came in after him.
“I don’t want you washing a single dish,” David insisted. “You and Amy spent hours in the kitchen today. Joe and I will do the dishes.”
“Okay.” Christie wasn’t about to argue. He rubbed his forehead and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry that was awkward, David. I’m not very good at holding my tongue.”
David looked behind him as if to make sure they were alone and stepped closer. “You were very patient. I’m sorry about Joe. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“It doesn’t matter. Hey, if you guys are going to tackle the dishes, maybe I’ll head out. I wanted to call some friends today, say Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Sure. We’ll box up all the leftovers, and I’ll bring them over.”
“No, you keep them. You’ve got a house full.”
David looked determined. “I’ll bring you over enough for several meals at least. Everyone likes turkey leftovers.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. Thank you for today. Really. It was the best Thanksgiving meal I’ve ever had, and I’m sure the kids appreciated it too.”
David’s voice was soft and sincere. Normally it was the sort of tone that would make Christie melt. But he was still raw and hurt inside. He shrugged. “Thank you for inviting me. It would have been depressing sitting at home alone.”
There was an awkward moment standing close there in the kitchen. Christie wanted to touch David—give him a hug or even rest his head on David’s shoulder for a moment of comfort. But they weren’t like that. Why did it feel so strongly that they were? Why did Christie crave it like air?
David gazed at him, his hands clenched at his side.
“Okay, then. I’ll just say good-bye.” Christie slipped past David and stuck his head in the dining room. “Amy, Joe, I’m taking off. It was great to meet you both.”
“Oh? So soon?” Amy stood up. “Well, bye, Christie. That meal was delicious!” She came over and gave him a carefully chaste little one-armed hug. “Thank you for cooking today and for making Dad eat decent food while we’re away at school. It was so nice to meet you too!”
Joe stood up at his chair. “Yes, thank you for the good food. God bless.”
David saw Christie to the door.
“Enjoy your time with your kids. See you Sunday, maybe?”
“We’ll see. They leave Sunday morning. I’ll text you.”
Christie got into his car and drove down the Fisher driveway. He tried hard to dispel the feeling of disaster that loomed over him, the sense it would be the last time he ever visited David Fisher.
* * *
After Christie left David started scraping dishes, and Joe finished clearing the table.
Amy came bouncing into the kitchen. “I’m going to take River and Tonga for a walk.”
“That’s one way to get out of dishes,” Joe complained, carrying in a load from the dining room.
“Hey, I helped cook! Dad said you guys were on dish patrol.”
“It’s okay, hon
ey,” David said. “Go ahead. The dogs could use a walk.”
Christie had a habit of “dropping” things for them to gobble up. They adored him for it, but they were putting on weight.
Amy stuck out her tongue at Joe teasingly, but he barely responded. “Boy, you’re such a grump this holiday.”
Joe grabbed a dishtowel and swatted Amy’s hip with it, grinning. “Am not. Go on if you’re going. Shirker.”
Appeased, Amy batted her eyelashes at Joe as if she were the bratty little sister instead of the older one. She took off with the dogs. For a few minutes, David scraped and rinsed dishes in peace, stacking them by the side of the sink to wash.
But Joe eventually spoke up. “So. How long has this been going on? This ‘friendship’ with Christie?”
There was a slight edge to his tone, but David ignored it. “I dunno. Since early October, I guess.”
“How do you even know the guy?”
“I told you he’s our neighbor. He’s Ruth’s nephew.”
“The old lady who lived on the other side of the lane? It’s not like we knew her all that well.”
“I rent part of his field, so I had to talk to him about it. What exactly is the problem, Joe? You were rude to him, and there’s no call for that, especially after he made that beautiful meal for us.”
Joe huffed, taking a large pot to dry it. “It’s pretty weird seeing someone like that in our home. And he seemed awfully comfortable here. Getting into the cupboard and fridge without even asking you. Knowing where Mom kept the aluminum foil…. If he’s just cooking for you for pay, why doesn’t he leave the food on the doorstep? Why is he eating at our table?”
Our table. As if Joe had a right to say what went on there even when he wasn’t home. David’s lips tightened along with the band of anger around his chest. “He lives alone, and I live alone. Why should we both eat alone?”
“Dad.” Joe looked at David with worried brown eyes, hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t be friends with that guy.”
“Why not?”
