Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s me. That thought wasn’t reassuring. Trey had come down early to help set up for the tour. He’d helped clean and was leading occasional tours for those people who wanted a more historical understanding of the farm. He was putting his whole self into this launch. If she couldn’t put her whole self in as well, she didn’t deserve him.
Later that night, Trey stood silent and focused as she flicked his shirt buttons open. She trailed her index finger up to his neck and then down through each new inch of flesh she revealed until she could place her palms on his chest and fully spread her fingers over his skin. When the rush of the day threatened to speed up her hands, she took a deep breath and concentrated her attention on the man in front of her. She took her time exploring his body with her lips and tongue, muscle by muscle and pore by pore until their desire had them shaking in unison. When he entered her, he filled her completely, leaving no space for the anxieties that had haunted her all day.
Her release soaked her in awareness of his body and hers. But the tenderness and time they had taken with each other meant she felt his retreat more completely than she ever had before.
* * *
“IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?” asked a soft voice through the dark.
Trey had pulled Max tight against him and was enjoying the warmth of her back against his chest when she asked the question. His skin pulled back from hers, but he kept his arms around her, fighting to close the distance.
“No.” His reply was both a lie and the truth. He could imagine no better feeling in this world than to lie in this bed in this farmhouse with his arms wrapped around this woman, and the willingness with which he would toss his life away to be here forever scared the shit out of him.
You’re crazy about that girl and she’s crazy about you. You have grown into more of a fool than your daddy ever was. Aunt Lois’s words had followed him home, though with a different result than she’d intended.
“I know this relationship has an end point, Trey. I knew it when we started.”
“Let’s not talk about this now,” he said, pulling her hair back from her neck and kissing the one freckle-free spot he’d found on her entire body. The full, four square inches of white skin was back behind her ear. Only someone lying in this position and pulling her hair away would know it was there. Thinking about this secret spot was usually a precursor to his research into farm legislation instead of education. For a chance to kiss this one spot he would drive five hours.
He pulled his lips away and smoothed her hair back over the spot. “I was just thinking of something my aunt said.”
She stiffened in his arms, the same response he often had to his aunt, and he smiled, though his smile quickly disappeared at the defensiveness in her voice as she spoke. “I admire the work she does and don’t know if I’d have settled into this community without her support, but she doesn’t speak for me about this relationship. I’ve never spoken with her about it.”
Had he lied when he’d told Max his withdrawal wasn’t about her? No. He hadn’t lied to her and he didn’t plan to start. He also hadn’t wanted to have this conversation here, now, again, but the opportunity was here. He should seize it. “At her supper, she was trying to convince me to move down here.”
The bed creaked as Max rolled in his arms over onto her back. The moonlight reflected off her light skin and fell into dark freckles to create a brilliant pattern of bright versus hidden. He could spend the rest of the night exploring the mysteries of her face and know no more at 6:00 a.m. than he did right now. “You know I’m not moving back to North Carolina, right? Whatever this relationship is, I can’t do that.”
“Your hatred of this farm has never been a question.”
She hadn’t answered his actual question. “Even if it wasn’t this farm, I still wouldn’t move back.” I have a life in D.C., a good job, and... He didn’t say any of those things. Defending his stance implied there was a weak point she could exploit.
“I know you’re not moving back, and that my buying the farm means the death of our relationship.” Her tone was flat, but before he could press, she said with more pep, “But I’ve never been to D.C. and I’d still like a tour one day.”
He ignored the false brightness of her tone to focus on her words. “I give the best tours.”
Rammed in the future they’d agreed on, Trey closed his eyes and waited to fall asleep.
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE JOLLY GREEN Giant had been pressing down on Max’s shoulders for months. Maybe even years. There’d always been that force sinking her shoulder blades farther and farther into her lungs. First it had been the fear of moving to North Carolina and starting a farm. Then it had been Hank and his odious personality, combined with the fear that he’d realize she was a woman and decide he couldn’t lease to her. Feeling comfortable with Hank hadn’t pushed the weight fully away, though it had lightened the load a bit. But his death had sent the full force of the giant crashing back down on her shoulders.
Now as she stepped out of Trey’s car onto the gravel road that was hers, the giant was gone. His hands weren’t even resting on her shoulders waiting to push down again. Max still felt pressure, but the force was pushing her forward to the future rather than weighing her down.
She took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with her cool, clean air. On her farm. Her gravel. Her old farmhouse. Her falling-down barn and her own matching chicken coop. Her deep breath was intended to calm both her fears and her excitement; it didn’t work.
It had been clear early on that her Kickstarter would be fully funded, and since then everything else had moved so quickly. Even the mortgage-approval process had been smoother than she’d expected. And the avalanche, once started, wouldn’t slow for any doubts. It bowled right past and over her. In Trey’s visits since the Kickstarter launch, she hadn’t even had time to think about how signing the mortgage would end their relationship.
Hadn’t had time, or hadn’t wanted to? No matter. Without the giant pressing down on her shoulders, the feeling of owning her own farm might carry her away off this earth.
Trey came around the car and took her hand. She let him lead her around all the other cars parked in her driveway. Honestly, she was never going to get sick of that particular possessive pronoun.
They walked hand in hand around the back of her house to where tents were set up. Kelly and Norma Jean were setting up the rented tables and chairs. The smell of smoke and pork filled the air. Garner had brought his pig cooker over in the back of his truck and was putting a final mop of sauce on the meat. There were two long tables lined end to end with plenty of empty space for all the barbecue that Garner would soon pronounce ready. Lois was laying out slaw, collard greens, cornbread, potato salad and corn pudding. And big jugs of sweet tea. Lois didn’t truck with alcohol.
Max’s stomach grumbled. “This looks fabulous.”
Trey’s hand was warm in hers. “Asking Aunt Lois to plan the party was a good idea, though I think the Christmas lights were Norma Jean’s idea.”
“I had great interns this summer.” They’d not only worked hard on the farm, they’d also become invested in the success of the Kickstarter and Max’s ability to buy the land. When Max had sent Norma Jean an email to thank her for all the help, she had said it was worth it because she was learning about hope through struggle. Norma Jean vowed that when she had a farm, she wouldn’t let small trials get her down.
Trey squeezed Max’s hand. “Even Sean?”
Max squeezed back. “Even Sean. While I had him, he was a good employee. And he taught me that I could feel sympathy without letting those feelings get in the way of the fact that I have to be the boss.” The crunch of tires on the gravel behind her made her turn around. A car she didn’t recognize was pulling into the drive. “I think that’s one of the Kickstarter funders. I hope they find the party worth thei
r investment.”
He frowned at her words. “They didn’t donate money so that they could have a party. They donated so that you could have a farm.”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but stopped when she saw the intent look on his face. He turned so that they were facing each other and put his hands on her shoulders. “This party is for you. I gave you a shitty bargain in a shitty farming year and you succeeded. You beat all your own expectations, no matter what mine were. You deserve a party.”
Seeing herself reflected in Trey’s eyes warmed her through to her fingers on the cold November night. In his eyes, she stood tall and fearless in the face of challenges. They both knew self-doubt did cartwheels in her head, but that mattered less than the fact that she didn’t let those doubts bust out. “Let’s go greet our guests. Maybe they’ll want a tour before it gets too dark.”
Their first Kickstarter guests were a couple that owned a music production company in Durham, and as soon as Max shook the woman’s hand, she knew who they were. Though the woman didn’t stop to talk like many of Max’s other customers, she came by the Patch’s table every weekend to buy some vegetables. At their indication that they wanted a tour, Max led them up to the tables to get something to drink first and the party was started.
When she returned from her tour, the party was in full swing. Kelly ran up to her to shake her hand in congratulations. Lois walked, but there was a wide smile on her face. Garner shook her hand, but didn’t say anything. Soon Kelly and Lois were followed by a host of Max’s friends and neighbors. People she’d met at Lois’s Sunday suppers. Other farmers from the market. Other Kickstarter donors. And her mom, who enveloped her in a warm patchouli hug and said, “I’m so proud of you.” The only thing that would make the evening better was if her father and brother were here. But she’d bought the farm ahead of schedule and they were still busy with their own farmwork.
Across the backyard, Max caught a glimpse of Trey, his smile wide and honest. He looked happy. He was on his father’s property—now her property—and he looked happy. Knowing he was here almost made up for her missing her father and brother.
* * *
TREY WAS PUSHING his empty plate away when Kelly sat down next to him. “I’m trying to eat for Sean, as well as for me,” his brother said with a gesture toward his full plate. Kelly’s second serving was larger than his first had been.
“Shouldn’t you be sneaking some vodka into your tea, then?” Trey had more he wanted to say, but picking a fight with his brother at Max’s party was in poor taste.
Kelly stopped eating to look at him, his fork halfway to his mouth. His brother cocked his head, pursed his lips and finally put the fork back down on his plate. “Didn’t Max tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Sean is in Wilmington at a rehab facility. They offer a program specifically for veterans that he’s participating in.” Kelly picked up his fork again, considered the pile of barbecue and then shoved it into his mouth.
“How did this happen?”
Kelly took a big gulp of his tea before answering Trey’s question. “Well, getting fired from the farm wasn’t rock bottom. Sean had to crawl back up a bit from getting fired and got back into regular AA meetings—and then he dived into rock bottom. I reached out to his mother and together we got him into the Wilmington program.” He scraped another pile of barbecue onto his fork. “Mrs. Yarnell really is a lovely woman, though her strident pacifism is hard on Sean.” Kelly shook his head as if not believing what he was about to say. “It was hard to have a homophobic father and be gay. Mrs. Yarnell is as welcoming as she can be about Sean’s sexuality, but she broke his heart by refusing contact with him when he joined the army. We all have our blind spots.”
“And...” Trey stopped, not certain what question he wanted to ask first. The things he had wanted to say when Kelly first sat down were still bouncing around in his head, but their tone was different. “Why have you stuck with him?” Apparently, the question was shocking enough for Kelly to stop chewing. His brother held up his hand in a gesture of patience as he tried to finish his bite, not surprisingly a huge effort given the pile of food that had been on the fork. “That’s what you get for taking such big bites,” Trey said with a snort.
When Kelly finally swallowed, he said, “Because I love him.”
“But...”
“But how could I love an alcoholic, especially after our father?”
Trey shrugged, fixing his gaze on some point past all the partygoers. He tried to pretend he wasn’t here on his father’s—now Max’s—farm, having this conversation, but the music, smells and chatter drew him back to the present. He scanned the people under the tent until his eyes caught Max, who was laughing with one of the Kickstarter guests. This land was hers now. The fall breeze ruffling her hair was blowing away the last bits of his father and Trey’s unhappy childhood. Not rebirth so much as new growth. Like Max’s treasured compost piles, the old, rotting waste was providing nutrients for something new and wholesome.
What had his aunt said? You’re crazy about her and she’s crazy about you. She hadn’t been wrong. She was almost never wrong, but she seemed to believe that Trey could be here without seeing his childhood in every tree and branch. Perhaps it was possible. Kelly’s childhood had been equally awful, though in a different way, and he’d managed to return to the farm. And as much as Trey accused otherwise, Kelly and Sean’s relationship was different than his parents’ relationship, lacking the victim and perpetrator edge.
Trey turned back to his brother. “Yes. That is exactly the question I don’t know the answer to.”
“We all have our blind spots.” Trey rolled his eyes at Kelly’s answer. “Compassion. Sean is fighting a war that I don’t understand. So long as he’s fighting that war and not fighting me, I can have compassion for him. Dad’s problem was that he spent most of his life fighting us instead of his own demons.”
“I’m supposed to have compassion for our father?”
“Supposed to? I don’t know. But you might try it and find out. Add Mama in there, too, while you’re at it.”
“Huh. I’m going to get a second plate.” Trey stood and walked over to the line of food, trying not to notice that he got two scoops of the corn pudding that had always been his mom’s favorite and that he passed up the potato salad his dad had never liked.
When he returned to the table, Max was joining Kelly with her own plate of food. “Not eating with the Kickstarter guests?” Kelly asked.
“I don’t want to sound like an ingrate, but I need a break from being ‘on.’ It’s exhausting,” Max said.
“You don’t look on,” Kelly said.
“She’s wearing her interview clothes. Casual enough that no one forgets she’s a farmer, but without the mud stains.” Trey ignored the elbow to his side. “I recognize the outfit from when she interviewed Sean.”
“You probably should’ve worn something nice to sign the mortgage papers,” Kelly said, though the smile on his face made it clear he was teasing.
“I know, but I didn’t want to look too flush. Besides, if I showed up to this party in a skirt, I would’ve been bombarded with people asking me to point out the farmer. Even the people who come to the farmers’ market wouldn’t recognize me. Hank called my outfit farmer chic, though I’m not even sure he knew what chic meant,” Max said with a laugh.
Trey put down his fork. “Where would my father learn a phrase like farmer chic?”
“Well,” Kelly said, “I think he learned chic because of me. There was a six-month period when Dad was trying to understand gay culture until I told him to knock it off.” He made a disgusted face. “It was just weird and wrong and full of stereotypes that don’t apply to me.”
Max laughed. “Oh, he must’ve kept that learning experiment a secret from me. Though Hank did spend about a year readin
g up on modern organic farming techniques and emailing me articles. Some of it was helpful. Most of it I already knew, but it was sweet.”
Trey scooted back to the edge of his chair as Kelly and Max reminisced about his father’s misguided attempts to broaden his mind. Finally, he interrupted. “I can’t imagine my father doing any of this.”
“Oh, Hank wasn’t good at it, or even comfortable with it. But he’d made a commitment with himself to learn and he was sober enough to try to stick with it. It’s just that whenever he was trying on a new skin, he walked like his pants were too tight.”
“Some of it stuck, though,” Kelly said quietly.
Max shot a look at his brother. “Yes, some of it did. He built the chicken coop because he preferred the eggs I brought home from the market, though he couldn’t bear the price of them. And—” Max paused and Trey felt the pressure of her hand on his leg “—he was starting to check out books on education from the library. He had just returned one from that former head of D.C. schools.”
Her last sentence distracted him from the hand on his thigh. “My dad went to the library?”
“Dad was all kinds of surprising in those last years. You never knew what you were going to get out of him, good or bad.”
Trey put his hand under the table and grasped Max’s. She gave his a squeeze, which was comforting, but didn’t help realign his life with a world where his father went to the public library.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE TIKI LAMPS provided so little illumination, Max wondered if they’d be better off working without them and using only the stars and moonlight to guide them. But they’d provided enough light to see Trey raise his brows at that suggestion, so the lamps stayed lit. Max leaned against the last folding table still standing, winding fairy lights around her arm while Trey carried chairs to the barn. The party had been blessed with crisp though not cold November weather, but the wind carried the tangy smell of a storm. The tents would join the chairs and tables in the barn until the rental company retrieved them. The fairy lights would be packed away in the attic, joining the Harris family crap neither Trey nor Kelly had removed yet.
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