Heartland

by Sarina Bowen

  “Where?”

  “Right here in the bunkhouse. If Isaac and Leah sell their place before it’s time to head to Burlington in the fall, we can stay in this room together.”

  “I can’t believe they’ll sell,” she whispers. “They worked so hard for everything they have.”

  “Wouldn’t be my choice, either,” I agree. “But Leah is a crusader. Her concept of home might be different from ours.”

  I’m still trying to figure out what home means to me, too. It’s harder than I thought it would be.

  “Connors wants the farm,” Chastity says. “He’ll put cattle in the barn.”

  “Isaac has a buyer already?”

  “Well, yeah. Since you and Griff don’t want it.”

  My eyes fly open again. “What?”

  Chastity sits up part way. “Griffin told Isaac tonight at dinner. That you guys aren’t in the position to think about it right now.”

  “Oh shit.” I sit up, too. “Is that what Griff wanted to talk to me about?”

  Chastity stares at me. “He didn’t? He was supposed to.”

  “Um…” I think back to the fight we had over the tractor. “I told Griffin I didn’t want to farm after college. I said I didn’t want to work for him. But I didn’t let him tell me whatever it was…” I trail off, because it’s just hitting me what I turned down. “Oh fuck. Griffin was actually considering it, wasn’t he?”

  “I guess,” Chastity flops down on the pillow. “If you don’t want to farm after college, it doesn’t really matter, though.”

  I let out a groan as I fall back on the pillow. “What a mess. I truly thought there was no room for me in this equation. But if Griffin expanded, he’d need a partner.”

  “It’s kind of a dick move for him to decide without asking you,” she says.

  “Oh, it would be. It’s just that I didn’t give him a chance. Maybe I can fix this.”

  Chastity runs a hand down my arm. “Don’t rush into anything.”

  “Will you stay in Vermont, either way?”

  “Yes,” she says. “Because I love you, too.”

  I pull her against me again, because I can’t get enough. Loving Chastity isn’t a big decision I made. It just happened. And as for the rest of the big decisions coming my way, they aren’t as scary as they were a few hours ago.

  So long as we’re together, I think I can handle all the other stuff.

  Chastity yawns against my chest. “We never just sleep.”

  “You’re right.” I chuckle, and her body bounces as my stomach contracts. “I have never gotten into bed with you without tearing off all your clothes first.”

  “It’s nice,” she says.

  Parts of me beg to differ. But it is nice. I close my eyes and try to relax.

  The silence stretches onward, and after a while I wonder if Chastity has fallen asleep. So I hold very still. I’m pleasantly turned on and too keyed up to sleep. But I’m too happy to care.

  Chastity suddenly sits up. “Fuck it,” she says. Before I can ask what she means, she rips her T-shirt over her head, allowing her breasts to bounce free.

  “Hello,” I say, startled.

  She’s not done. She gets up on her knees and wiggles out of her panties, and the view is right out of my best fantasies. And then? She leans down, slides a hand beneath the sheet and pulls my cock out of my pajama pants.

  “Holy hell, you’re initiating—” She strokes me, and I break off on a moan. “Is this real life?”

  “Yes. It is. And a cute guy told me life is short.” She bends down and takes my cock in her mouth. I make a noise of shock and pleasure. She pops off and says, “I mean, I still love it when you take over. But this is good, too.”

  “Unnngh,” I say as she licks the length of me. I put my hands behind my head and let myself enjoy it.

  Or that’s the plan, anyway. A few minutes later, I remember that Chastity said we were cleared to have sex without condoms.

  That’s when I have to grab her, roll over, and press her naked body down on the bed. “Good job with Chapter Seventeen,” I say, a little breathless already. “But I need to throw away the textbook again.”

  “Go,” she says. “Do it.”

  Kissing her again, I do.

  The next thing I know, there’s a light rap on the door, and then the sound of it opening. “Dyl? Sorry to wake you but I needed to know where you put the small gage—” My brother’s question breaks off suddenly. “Whoa. Sorry.” The door snaps shut again.

  I roll over. “The snips are on a nail on the wall of the goat enclosure,” I croak.

  “Should have knocked, sorry,” Griff says. “Merry Christmas to you both. You might want to wake up at some point and give Mom her present.”

  “Will do.”

  When Griffin leaves the bunkhouse, I give Chastity a squeeze. At least we were fully covered by the quilt. “Sorry about that. I know you like your privacy.”

  “I don’t think I have any of that anymore,” she murmurs. “Besides, it’s worth it to be here with you.”

  “Are you brave enough to walk into breakfast with sex hair?”

  She flinches. “I don’t know. Can I run home and get changed? I have to give Maeve her present.”

  “Of course you can. Take my truck.”

  “Really?” she squeaks. “Alone? There’s snow on the ground.”

  “I’ll drive you if you want. But the plow would have come by already. It’s after nine. And I know you can do it.”

  Chastity gives me a kiss on the nose. “Dylan, do you have a black eye?”

  “Maybe.” I touch the sensitive spot on my eye socket. “Eh, that’s nothing.”

  “How’d you get it?”

  “It’s a long story involving my big bag of crazy and Griffin’s elbow.”

  She gives me a funny look. Then she gets up to get dressed.

  When I enter the farmhouse mud room a half hour later, Griffin is there, pulling off his boots. “Sorry for not knocking earlier,” he says again. “I just had no idea.”

  “No big deal.”

  “Kinda makes some sense,” Griffin says, walking into the kitchen.

  “What does?” I call after him. “My freak-out last night?”

  He turns around, squinting at me. “No, just you in general. With Chastity. We all need someone who doesn’t mind helping to carry our baggage.” He turns around again.

  “I don’t have baggage,” I say to his back as he walks away.

  “Uh-huh,” comes over his shoulder. “Sorry about the black eye.”

  “Eh. It makes me look like a tough guy. Can we talk about Isaac’s farm?” I follow him into the kitchen.

  He winces. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about farming? I was trying not to pressure you.”

  “I know,” I grumble. “But my timing sucks. Dad wanted that land, right? But then he didn’t buy it. Do you know why?”

  Griffin’s face fills with surprise. “Yeah, I do. Don’t you think this conversation requires coffee, though?”

  “Sure.” I follow him to the coffee pot, and take two mugs out of the cabinet.

  “Seven years ago, the Abrahams bought their farm from—”

  “—Chasternak,” I supply.

  “Right,” Griffin agrees. “It went on the market in May, right after a nasty frost that really hurt us.”

  “Oh.” I don’t remember that, but Griffin would. He’s the orchard guy. He probably remembers the exact weather forecast on the day he got his first blowjob.

  “Dad was worried about cash. It was one of those terrifying moments to be a farmer. There’s plenty of those.”

  “I realize that, Griff.”

  He gives me a wry grin. “Sorry. I’m working on it.”

  “On what?”

  He pours a cup of coffee and hands it to me. “It’s our age difference, Dyl. When I look at you I still see a six-year-old in Spider-Man pajamas. I don’t mean to patronize you. But I’m not used to thinking of you as an adult.”


  “Okay.” I take a gulp of black coffee. The kind adults drink. “But you’re working on it. So the frost convinced Dad not to buy more land?”

  “Yes and no. He said it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to buy adjoining farmland. But he was afraid to take on more debt when we were so cash-poor. And then Leah and Isaac showed up and made him a deal.”

  “Okay. That land is worth more now, though,” I point out. One of our neighbors just sold a meadow we used to lease for grazing cows for a pile of money. “The parcel across the street—”

  “—has million-dollar views,” Griffin says, cutting me off. “But Isaac’s place doesn’t.”

  “How much is it worth?”

  “Two fifty? Two sixty? But interest rates are really low right now.”

  “Still. That’s a lot of money.”

  “Yes and no. Dad was right about it being a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But now we have a chance at it, too. Isaac might even let us finance with him. That would save us bank fees.”

  “Unless he already gave it to Connors,” I point out.

  Griffin sets his mug down on the counter. “I texted him again this morning, though. Because letting it go before I could talk to you just didn’t sit well with me. The truth is that I hope you’ll choose this. Not out of obligation. And not because I need more minions to kick around my dictatorship.”

  I flinch, and he laughs.

  “Dylan, I like working with you. I like the art you make for the cider labels, and I like the care you take with the animals. And I like hearing you whistle in the barn. I can work on my attitude toward decision-making. If I knew you were onboard, then I’d have to get over myself a little and consider your plans.”

  Well, hell. My mind is blown again. “But could we afford this? If we took on Isaac’s place?”

  “It would be hard at the beginning,” Griffin says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We might have to lease out the house to keep the cash coming in. But it’s definitely possible.”

  Rickie enters the kitchen with an empty plate in his hand. “I don’t know if I’m ever leaving,” he declares. “Those pancakes your sister makes are pretty intense.”

  “Let’s eat,” Griff says. “Is Audrey around?”

  “In here!” his wife calls. “Your son just ate the last pancake.”

  “I’ll pour some more,” Daphne says, coming through from the dining room. “Where’s Chastity?”

  The mud-room door bangs. “Right here!” Chastity calls. Then she steps into the kitchen looking flushed and happy. “Leah and Isaac say Merry Christmas.”

  When she moves closer, I pull her into a one-armed hug. “Did you tell them you weren’t going to Wyoming?”

  “I did,” she whispers.

  “And?”

  “Leah wasn’t surprised. I guess disappearing in the night kind of clued her in.”

  “And can I assume my truck made it back safely?”

  “Of course it did.”

  I lean down and kiss her smile. And even though we’re standing in the middle of my family, she kisses me back.

  “It’s weird how that doesn’t seem weird,” Griffin says.

  “Oh, I’m used to it already,” Rickie adds.

  We ignore them.

  Chastity steps back eventually, though. “I brought your present.” She hands me an envelope.

  “Thanks!” I give it a shake. “Well, it’s not a puppy.”

  “A puppy,” Griffin snorts. “Nobody buy him a puppy unless he’s actually living in the same zip code with it.”

  “Just wait until Gus learns to say puppy,” I argue. “You’ll fold faster than a bad hand of poker.”

  Griffin grins over his coffee mug, because he knows I’m right.

  I tear open the envelope and fish out two tickets to the New Year’s Eve concert I wanted to attend. “Aw, really? This is awesome. You want to go with me?”

  “Well, it’s an easy decision now,” she says. “But I have a hard time saying no to you. So I bought them last week.”

  There’s even more kissing after that.

  And then pancakes.

  Epilogue

  Chastity

  Valentine's Day is yet another holiday I didn't have for the first nineteen years of my life. “There were no heart-shaped candies at the Paradise Ranch,” I’d told Rickie and Dylan. “Can you imagine the mayhem if every man had to romance five wives on one night?”

  The idea had made me snort-laugh in a very unladylike way.

  But I guess Dylan took it as a challenge. When I wake up in his bed on February 14th, I’m alone. But I can smell the coffee brewing downstairs, and when I step into the kitchen, a giant bouquet of red and silver balloons blocks my path to the coffee pot.

  “Oh wow,” I say, spotting Dylan’s and Rickie’s feet somewhere near the kitchen table. “This is so—”

  “Gaudy?” Rickie supplies.

  “Extravagant,” I insist, pushing the balloons aside. When I locate the table, Dylan is waiting there beside a sumptuous heart-shaped box of Lake Champlain Chocolates. And a dozen red roses. The tag reads: For Chastity.

  “Oh, Dylan!” I gasp. “I’ve never gotten roses.” I step right over and sit in his lap, because there are only two chairs at the table. And because Dylan is my favorite furniture anyway.

  “See?” he says, reaching over to give Rickie a poke in the arm. “Tone down the cynicism.” He nudges the chocolates in my direction. “I got this boyfriend thing all figured out.” He hands me his coffee mug, and I help myself to a gulp.

  He does, indeed, have this boyfriend thing figured out.

  Rickie just shakes his head. “I guess you had to go big on the flowers since you can’t take your girl out to a nice V-day dinner.”

  “That’s okay with me,” I say, leaning back against Dylan’s bare chest. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

  “There will be, like, a hundred girls drooling over your man,” Rickie points out. “I predict an estrogen fest at the club tonight.”

  “You’re coming though, right?” I demand. “Ellie is counting on you to sneak her in. How are you going to do that, anyway?”

  “Piece of cake,” he says. “Just wait.”

  The Hardwick Boys are playing their second gig ever at a Burlington bar—this one a few blocks away from the bar that Ellie and I were kicked out of in the fall. The room is packed with a Valentine’s Day crowd, but I’ve got a plum spot near the front. Griffin made a point to drive Audrey, Leah, and Isaac into town for the evening.

  “Who’s babysitting?” I’d asked the moment they walked in. I feel a twinge of guilt as I ask the question. Leah and Isaac had stayed home on New Year’s so I could go out with Dylan to the concert.

  “We hired a high school friend of Dylan’s to watch Maeve and Gus at our house,” Griffin says. “Her name is Debbie? I don’t know if you ever met her.”

  “Um, yup,” I say. “I remember Debbie.”

  “Both kids were asleep when we drove away.” Griffin shrugs. “Easy money for Debbie. Audrey and I need a night out anyway, right? And why not watch the kid play his fiddle?”

  “You should stop calling him the kid,” Audrey points out. “You’re going to be business partners. You should refer to each other in terms of mutual respect.”

  “You’re right, babe. Now let’s watch the kid play.” He points at the stage, where Dylan and Keith have appeared to hoots of applause.

  “Evening!” Dylan says into the microphone. “Who wants to dance on Valentine’s Day?”

  There’s an estrogen-fueled shriek.

  “Let’s do this!”

  Keith counts them in, and they launch into a fast-paced tune. Keith is on an electric guitar this time, giving them a slightly grittier sound. They call their style funkabilly, whatever that is.

  Right before he left us to tune up with Keith, Dylan announced to us that they had “a nice, tight ninety minutes” of music prepared for tonight. “It’s gotten easier to put a set togeth
er.”

  “That must be the result of finally declaring your major,” Griffin had teased.

  Dylan had barely rolled his eyes. He and Griff are getting along a lot better now.

  As for his major, Dylan went with agriculture and a minor in music. He and Griff are buying the Abrahams’ farm. Leah and Isaac will leave for Wyoming in May.

  Since I'm not going with them, they may leave even before classes are through. The farmland is leased for two years to a vegetable grower from Hardwick. This will help them pay the mortgage and some of the taxes while Dylan finishes school.

  Later this spring, after Leah and Isaac leave, Griffin will try to rent out the house, and Dylan will take over cutting the lawn and looking after the place.

  “Someday I think Griffin will live there,” Dylan had said the other day, as we lay naked and sated in bed together. “If they have a second baby, the bungalow will get too small for them. And I bet Audrey has designs on that commercial kitchen.”

  “I’ll bet she does, too.”

  “For now it will be ours to use and rent out. How many caramels do you think we can make next fall?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if I got two more goats?” he’d asked.

  “Wait, you’d double the milk production?” I’d yelped.

  He’d laughed. “It’s just an idea. I have a lot of those.” Then he’d rolled on top of me and kissed me.

  Leah and Isaac are already dancing. They’re pretty good at it, too. Isaac spins her, and Leah laughs.

  I'm already starting to feel sad about their departure. I wish they wouldn’t go. Maeve is going to be such a big girl next time I see her.

  I've promised to visit the following summer. Leah would like me to stay for a couple of months, but she said I can come for a short visit if that makes me more comfortable. “It’s different for you. I realize that now. Two years means it’s all still raw.”

  She isn’t wrong. I’m taking another writing class this semester, too. Because I’ve discovered that writing about the Paradise Ranch has helped me process my feelings about the place. And I like writing more than I expected to. So who knows what will come of that.