The Great Blue Heron was back, wadding along the edge of the pond. A few steps then it would stand still, head cocked one way or another. Then it would move a few more steps, until it finally darted its head down into the shallow water bringing up a fish, or less frequently, a snake. Wade stood on the freshly mowed bank and watched the large bird move along the far side. At thirty-two, it still fascinated him to see it or other wildlife around the pond. He eased along the bank, right along the water’s edge, looking beyond the grass in the swallow waters for movement, the dark fleeting flash of fish swimming in the open water at the grass’ edge. He had spent the morning mowing the yard around the house and the two barns, then around the pond, thinking he would come down later to fish. It had been a couple weeks since he last cast a line into the pond, and he was ‘fish hungry’ as his grandmother would say.
A splash from a trout up ahead and Wade looked up to see where the strike at the surface occurred. He took another step as he watched the ripples move outward across the pond’s surface. Suddenly his left foot was sliding out, the bank giving way underneath it. Arms swinging, Wade tried to regain his balance, but his left foot kept moving out till in the pond, and he followed it, falling over. He went down, rolled to his back and came to a stop sitting in water up to his neck. Head shaking at the silliness of it, he tried to stand but could not get his footing. On hands and knees, he crawled to the bank and tugging at the cut grass by the handful, he pulled himself out. On his feet, water pouring from his clothes, he held his arms out and looked at himself. “Damn fool,” he uttered, laughing at his predicament, for there was nothing else he could do.
Back at the house, he stood under the screen porch and looked through the open door wondering if he should go in still dripping water and mud. The backyard was private, and no one was around, so he removed his clothes, tossing them down on the porch and went in to get cleaned up. He wondered what Katherine would have said if she had been there to see him. Or what the girls, Alice and Amy, would have said, knowing they would have made fun of him, a way to remind him of all the times he had told them to be careful around the pond and to watch their step. He smiled at the idea of their responses but fell serious at the quiet nature of the house. It was just him now. It had been over a year since Katherine left and four months since the divorce was finalized.
In the shower, it came back to him. The way things had deteriorated between Katherine and him. For over a year he knew what he needed to do. But it was Katherine who took the first step, tired of waiting on him to get over his reticence, to admit something was wrong and the two of them deal with it. But that had been the problem. There had been no way for the two of them to deal with what was wrong. He felt guilty about how things turned out, how it seemed he had taken a part of Katherine’s life from her. But there were the girls, the two most precious things in the world to him, and he missed having them around day in and day out. But he knew it was for the best they live with Katherine, but it was hard with them over an hour away, down in Mobile.
How he had endured it was beyond him. The loneliness of it. This isolation he found himself. So many in the community chose sides, even when Katherine told them not to do it, and it had been surprising who had shunned him. But he had the farm to operate, seven hundred and eighty acres in cultivation and another sixty in pasture for the few head of cattle he kept just because it was something his father, grandfather and the two generations before had done. The farm didn’t seem real without some livestock. But he wasn’t serious about raising cows, keeping only twenty-six and one stubborn, mean-ass bull that had chased many a teenager trespassing in the pasture. But he enjoyed keeping them. How they came to his truck when bringing feed or hay, or would follow him when he did a walk of the fence checking it on occasion to see if the bull had attempted another getaway.
Dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, he went back to the porch to retrieve the wet clothes to put them in the washer. They would smell if he didn’t get them washed. He tossed in a few other dirty clothes to make it a load, then headed back to the porch to put on a pair of boots, setting his wet ones in the sun to dry. As he came down the steps, heading to the barn, the sound of a truck turning into his drive then motoring toward the rear captured his ear and he turned to see the familiar two-tone gray gas truck pulling around. Ambling over to the edge of the drive that led to the barn, he waited for the truck to pull up. The old GMC eased up next to him and the driver’s window rolled down. Travis from Harrison’s Fuel Supply leaned out.
“Hey, Wade, I’ve got 700 gallons of diesel and 300 gallons of gas for you. Is that right?”
“Sounds right. Thanks Travis.”
“I’ll get ya filled up and be on my way. I’ve got two more deliveries before I can call it a day.”
“I’ll be in the barn if you need me,” Wade replied, stepping back as Travis raised his window then pulled toward the barn.
Wade had felt short of breath and his heart raced when Travis had leaned out, as happened every time he saw him. Travis was dark skinned, with black hair and brown eyes, and always needed a shave. He spoke with a thick Southern drawl, wore a dirty ballcap with a bill that was frayed and his hair that stuck out messily around it. And Wade felt such an attraction to the guy it embarrassed him to think of it. He had never made a move toward Travis. There was the wedding ring for one thing, and there was his anxiety about his sexual desires. It haunted him how he couldn’t control it, knowing it was foolish to try, for it was a part of him, like his dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and lanky body. There was no denying it, not to himself, but in the community, after marrying Katherine, then going through the divorce, he could not bring himself to admit it to anyone other than Katherine. Not even the girls knew, deemed too young at eight and six.
As he approached the barn where he kept fishing gear and the old Jon boat, he watched Travis climb down from the truck, pull a hose from the reel and insert it into the pipe sticking out of the ground where the tank was buried. He watched the muscular, stocky body move easily at each task and wondered what it would be like to be manhandled by Travis. To have Travis pull him to the side, then down on the ground. He grew partially aroused thinking of what Travis could do to him. Then his frustration resurfaced, and he cut his eyes to the barn door in which he was heading.
Wade laid out two fishing rods and one cane pole. He checked the tackle box, making sure it still had line and hooks in it, and set it next to the rods and pole. At the back of the storage room he pulled out a camp chair and one of the coolers. There was a chest type freezer in the storeroom, one that had been used for overflow of vegetables from the garden or meats when the house had four of them in it. Now it just kept ice he used in coolers and garden seed he was storing for next year. He dropped a block of ice in the cooler and closed the lid. Cutting into the next section of the barn he pulled the small trailer to the garden tractor and loaded everything into it. At the far wall were axes, hoes, shovels, and other tools hung from hooks, he pulled down a spading fork and picked up an empty coffee can for the worms he would dig. There was a place at the edge of the woods where runoff from the cows water trough ran and the mixing with manure caused worms to work the soil so heavily it easily gave him the bait he needed to fish.
He dropped the fork and can into the trailer and climbed on the garden tractor. It started quickly and he pushed the throttle up till the motor ran smoothly, then eased out of the barn. He pulled around to where Travis was pumping fuel and idled down so they could speak.
“I’m going down to the pond. Do you need anything from me?”
“No sir, I’m good,” Travis replied, and it stung the formality of the reply. Wade didn’t feel like he was old enough to be referred to as ‘sir’, especially since Travis was only a few years his junior, but he knew the formal reply was meant as a sign of respect.
“Very well,” Wade replied as he pushed the throttle up. He watched Travis move to the hose, the seat of his jeans stretched tight around two round ass cheeks. Forcing himself to turn away, he pushed the tractor into drive and eased away.
It was silent except for the occasional creak of settlement as the old farmhouse cooled down from the long day in the sun. The interior was dark, not a light on in any room, but the bedroom that faced the rear yard glowed with moonlight coming in the open window. Everything was shades of grey, all color washed out in the dim reflected light. Lying in bed, Wade was on his back staring up at the dark ceiling lost in thought. He tried not to think of it, the desires he fought at times to deny, but as soon as he settled down images of Travis rose vivid in his imagination. He replayed the sound of Travis’ voice, the way it drew out the vowels. He pictured the stocky body moving around the gas truck and fantasized about one scenario after another where he made some suggestive comment and Travis returned his flirt. He imagined taking him into the barn, maybe into the grain truck with its wide bench seat or to the work bench or into the room where he stored seed in the winter and they could use empty bags to protect their naked bodies from the rough wood floor. He played out these fantasies till he grew frustrated and tired and rolled over facing the wall waiting on sleep to overtake him.
But sleep was slow in coming and his mind drifting back to high school and those last two months before graduation. Two months that took him from the happiest he had ever been to the lowest, saddest time of his life. After fourteen years, those two months still came to him so prominently, so lucid he nearly cried as he had done back then.
Bruce had been his best friend since kindergarten. They were inseparable as they grew up from mischievous boys to teenagers that cruised the streets over in Greenville or the back roads of the county, smoking and drinking and telling outrageous stories. They had double dated to the prom in eleventh grade and hung out with their other friends most weekends. Wade remembered how he struggled with his feelings, a desire for more than just friendship. He thought it beyond reach and dared not tempt fate by revealing himself to Bruce. He swallowed his pride and ignored his feelings as they hung out nearly every weekend. The image of Bruce, with his thin build and light brown hair and blue eyes and teeth that were slightly out of alignment, came to him. He replayed the early spring day when rain had brought them inside. They played video games, taunting each other for every mistake. His mother had come to the door letting them know his father and her were going to Greenville to shop and grab dinner, and there were leftovers in the frig. It left them alone and for an hour there was no change in their gaming, but thunder rumbled so harshly the house shook making Bruce look over wide eyed.
Wade remembered how he made fun of Bruce for being scared of the thunder, and they began to wrestle around on the bed. They had been lean boys, Bruce to the point of being skinny, and being four inches shorter, Wade had some advantage over him. It wasn’t long before Wade had Bruce pinned down, telling him to say ‘uncle’ and Bruce refusing.
The next few seconds happened in a blur. Wade had been distracted by the sound of a truck backfiring as it passed by, and Bruce took advantage. In a flash, Wade was on his back, pinned down by him. But there were no taunts to say ‘uncle’. Bruce held Wade’s arms outstretched over his head while staring down at him. Their faces had been so close, so very close, Wade remember how he could see the iris of each blue eye, and the long eyelashes, and the freckles across the nose. He remembered how he felt the warm exhales of breath against his face and Bruce’s expression change, grow serious.
Then there was the kiss.
The details are lost to Wade, all mixed up with the emotions he felt. The joy of Bruce returning his affections, the pleasure of his touches. The kisses and the roaming hands that eventually slipped down inside his jeans and touched him, manipulated him till he was rock hard. There was the fumbling with clothes, the comments about erections on full display, then the seriousness of Bruce entering him, that first time so painful. But after a minute, it was so right. The pleasure of feeling Bruce inside him, thrusting into his depths. He had came all over himself, covering chest and stomach with cum as Bruce fucked him. And once it was over, he had been grateful the house was empty for they had been so noisy, so loud none of the walls would have contained it.
For the next six weeks it had been pure bliss. Every moment they could steal away found them in some hiding place or back county road or down some fire lane. They hung out at Bruce’s pond, hidden among woods that cut across the back of their farm, laying naked on the pier or on the grassy bank. But hindsight being what it is, Wade knew something wasn’t right and just before graduation it was revealed with Bruce’s confession. The fear of discovery, the religious damnation for what they were doing and his need to try to live the life expected of him. It was ironic how Bruce talked of taking over the family farm and settling down with a wife, and having children, when the guilt and struggle with his sexuality proved too much and he left after graduation, joining the Navy. After that, Wade never saw Bruce again. He heard about him coming home to visit, short stays during holidays or their family’s big reunion every year in June. But there had been no visits between them, no attempts to make contact. For Wade, he had been hurt so badly he stayed angry with Bruce for over a year, then he met Katherine and he thought he could make a life for himself, one acceptable to his family and community. They dated for a year then had a small ceremony in the flower garden of her grandmother’s place, an area framed in azaleas that had been in full bloom.
When Alice, then Amy two years later, came along, he thought everything would work out. That he could live this expected life, for he did love Katherine, and the girls were such a gift of life he didn’t know how to express it. He had been twenty-four, married with two children living in an old farmhouse that was barely livable with the renovations they had undertaken. But it seemed life was perfect, except for that nagging feeling he was living a lie.
Without looking at his watch, Wade knew it was around two in the morning. He could feel it. Sense the passing of time and knew how long he had lain awake. He did it often and it was nearly the same every time. He shifted down in the bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin and let the warmth settle around him as he finally drifted off to sleep.
Two Weeks Later
Wade drove toward Greenville, turning up the radio so he could hear the music over the roar of all-terrain tires on the asphalt surface. Dalton, the manager at the John Deere dealership had called the evening before to let him know his new tractor had arrived. He had been putting it off for a couple of years but knew the old tractors he had gotten from his father were getting long in the tooth. The smaller one he would keep for the small tasks around the property, like bush hogging or tilling the garden. The large one he would sell to Mr. Simpson since it was the one, he was replacing. The cost had shocked him, and like many of the other area farmers, he had negotiated a lease arrangement, unable to afford the payments for purchase. He was heading to the dealership to finalize the arrangements and check it out. He knew it was shipped via railroad and needed the wheels put on it but what else was required to make it ready for use, he didn’t know.
He drove with the air conditioning blasting out cold air, for the hot sun was cutting through the windows. It was still morning but already temperatures were soaring, and the sky getting cloudy, building for an afternoon of thunderstorms. As he drove, he noticed another type of cloud over the highway. Grey clouds of gnats hovered in the rising heat from the road, which he sped through, wondering how many of the aggravating pests he managed to kill.
On the outskirts of Greenville there were car dealerships, office warehouse facilities, and the tractor dealership. Wade pulled in and parked in front, his truck one of many lining the sidewalk. Inside there was a line of men waiting with two at the counter being helped by Dalton, the manager, and Clinton, the owner.
“Hey, Wade, how’s it going?” said Harris, one of the farmers back in his community.
“Good. How about you?”
“I’m alright. I hear you got a new tractor.”
“Yeah, come to check on it.”
Dalton overhead, recognizing Wade’s voice and he looked over the man he was helping. “Wade! Go on back to the shop. Glen or Logan will help you. In fact, Logan should be the one getting it ready.”
“Thanks” Wade replied and stepped out of the line, nodding to a couple of men he knew by faces, not names, and headed to the corridor that cut back to the shop. He stopped on the way at the vending machine, getting a soda, then made his way out to the shop.
“Hey, Wade, it’s in the far bay. Go on back,” said Glen as soon as Wade stepped into the shop. Glen was the oldest man at the dealership, with a thick head of hair and a goatee all turned a light gray. Some said he was in his mid-fifties, others said not that old, but Wade knew from Clinton, Glen was sixty-two and still the best mechanic in the shop.
“Thanks Glen. How are you? Clinton keeping you busy?”
“Yep. You farmers are too rough with the equipment, so there is always plenty of work.”
Wade smiled, knowing the truth of the statement. He cut past an old 4250 that was broke apart, between the engine and transmission, with its cab suspended above. In the largest bay, usually filled by a combine, sat an 8870, the four-wheel drive tractor with duel wheels front and back taking up most of the bay. The body work was removed exposing the engine that had external components removed. He passed a small 6415 and another large tractor, a 4955 before coming to the last bay where he saw the shiny new tractor. A 6215R with duel rear wheels and ten times the gadgetry of his old tractor. He worried about figuring it all out and still fretted over the expenditure. As he approached, he saw the legs of the mechanic where he was standing on the opposite side. Dalton had mentioned a Logan was working on it, which was someone he didn’t know. Glen and Johnny were the two mechanics he was familiar and there had been Charlie, who had left last winter, moving his family to Oklahoma City. Charlie’s in-laws lived there and with five kids they had decided to move closer to them, and he had secured a job with another dealership outside the city. But this Logan fellow was a new one, probably the guy Clinton had hired to replace Charlie.
An air wrench whined behind Wade as he circled the front of the tractor and saw the guy for the first time. He staggered to a stop, caught up short by the male specimen before him. Tall, lean muscular build, the biceps on full display by the plaid shirt having the sleeves torn off. An ass that curved out provocatively in the blue work pants. And when the guy turned to him, smiling till white teeth were visible, he saw the rusty red hair, the thin arched eyebrows over dark eyes and a face that tapered down to a narrow chin with thin lips and a narrow long nose. There was a smudge of grease on one cheek and it made the guy look boyish, playful.
“You must be Wade?” the guy asked.
“I…huh…I’m…yeah…” Wade stammered, unable to find the right words, flustered more than usual.
“I’m Logan. I’m almost done. I want to run the engine and do a final diagnostic test, but I think it’s ready to deliver to you tomorrow.”
“T-that’s great. W-w-what time do you think it’ll be delivered…just so I can be there.”
“I was going to bring it out first thing in the morning; if that’s okay. Say, around eight?”
“That works for me.”
“I can get it delivered to you and get back in time to grab some breakfast before coming back to the shop.”
“Breakfast? Breakfast…” Wade stammered, diverting his eyes, knowing he had been staring far too long. “I usually have breakfast around 7:30 or 8:00…would you…it’s no trouble…I could…”
“You’re offering to feed me?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like that. I’m not too handy in a kitchen so I eat out all the time. I can get to your place by 7:30 if that works better.”
“Yeah…whatever…that’s fine.”
“I can take you through the systems in the morning after we get it unloaded. You had a 4640, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, there are a lot of changes since that tractor. You want to check out the cab while you’re here?”
“No…no, no, I can wait till in the morning. I should get back…inside that is, to sign some papers.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning, Wade.”
Wade staggered a few steps, bumped into a rolling tool chest, knocking a few screw drivers to the floor. He fumbled around picking them up, then made his way back across the shop, not once daring to look back.
That night was one of the worst for Wade. He tossed and turned for hours and when he finally did fall asleep his dreams were vivid. Sexual. Carnal images of Bruce on top of him, fucking him hard while taunting about how much he wanted it. One position then another, until Bruce was close, right in his face and suddenly it was Logan. Logan that was fucking him. Logan that was taunting him about how much he wanted it.
The alarm clock broke through the fog of sleep and Wade sat up rubbing his eyes. They burned as if he had set up all night. In fact, he felt as he had set up all night. He dragged his legs to the side of the bed and down to the floor and slid off the bed. Staggering, he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower to try to wake up.
By the time he made it to the kitchen it was a quarter after seven, making him rush to get everything out. Eggs, bacon, grits, bread, butter, salt and pepper spread out over the counter near the range. He started the bacon, scrambled four eggs and put butter on slices of bread to toast in the skillet after the eggs were cooks. Water was put on a back eye to heat to near boiling and coffee was set to brew. As he pulled down plates, he heard a large truck turn into his drive and ease toward the back. Out the window he saw the white truck pull by, followed by its flat bed trailer with his new tractor secured on it.
“Perfect timing,” Wade uttered as he set the plates on the counter and went out to meet Logan.
Logan was moving along the trailer, gloves in hand, about to start the unloading process. Wade walked up and called out, “Logan, come on in for breakfast first. Then I can help you unload it.”
Logan looked around, teeth shining white in his smile, “Sure thing,” he replied, tossing his gloves on the trailer.
Wade sat opposite Logan at the dining table, everything spread out before them. He watched Logan prepare his plate, scooping eggs, then grits onto it. It was difficult, sitting across from him. The guy was right there, less than three feet away. Ball cap removed showing the wavy rusty red hair, a ring pressed into it from the cap. Eyes that were green and seemed to show his good nature more than the frequent smiles or grins. The heart shaped face with its narrow nose and thin lips and a shadow of dark red beard coming in along the jaw. Wade considered the masculine nature of Logan, how everything spoke of it, including his dress. The blue plaid shirt, open half way down the front revealing a white undershirt with a low cut neck, and Wade knew it was a tank top by the weave of the fabric and that neck opening, and he wondered what Logan would look like without the shirt on over it.
Wade was constantly diverting his eyes, caught staring far too long and far too often. Logan seemed to smile each time he looked up catching him.
“How long have you been at the shop?” Wade asked after some small talk about the tractor and the breakfast Wade had prepared.
“A couple of months.”
“What brought you here? I understand you moved from out west?” ask Wade, regretting the last question, the admission he knew Logan had moved from Nebraska, something he found out from Dalton when he was signing the final papers.
“I was looking for a move, and a change of scenery. I have an Aunt and Uncle that live down in Florida and had liked the region when we drove down to visit. I found Clinton’s ad and applied.”
“It should be good job for there are a lot of farmers holding on to old equipment.”
“I know. The new tractors and combines and so expensive. It’s nice to finally get to prep a new one.”
“This is the first new tractor since you started?”
“Oh, no, it’s just Glen usually does them. But for some reason, Glen pushed Dalton to let me do this one.”
“I bet he’s getting ready to retire. His son lives in Tallahassee and his daughter is in Atlanta and I know he would like to be near one of them. What about you? You find a decent place to live?”
“I guess. I got an apartment in town. That small complex out on Simmons Street.”
“I know the place. Two small buildings with a few units in each one.”
“That’s it. I’m in a ground floor unit on the back side. Noisy as hell but no one bothers me.”
“There are new apartments out on Bellwood Road on the east side of town.”
“I’ve seen them. I signed a six-month lease, so I’m going to start looking in a couple of months.”
“So, you’re single?” asked Wade and Logan looked up and smiled, one that made him squirm a bit in his seat. A mischievous, all-knowing smile, and he wondered if it was written on his face what he had been thinking when he asked.
“Yep. What about you? I see pictures of children, two girls, but you seem to live alone.”
“Divorced. Katherine lives in Mobile with the girls, Alice and Amy.”
“Must be tough, with them that far away.”
“Could be worse. I can be down there in less than ninety minutes.”
Logan pushed back, stood, picking up his empty plate and mug, “do we hand wash the dishes or do you wash them in the dishwasher?”
“This many, I’ll load up the dishwasher.”
“I can help; it’s the least I can do after feeding me,” Logan replied, pulling down the dishwasher door. He slid out the top rack and saw it lined with clean classes and mugs. Below was a line of plates, utensils and two boilers. It looked like a bachelor’s load, with very little prep or cooking items. “Where do the plates and cups go?” Logan asked as he lifted out a few plates.
“Don’t worry about it, I can do it. Just set your dirty dishes by the sink.”
“No, I can help cleanup.”
Wade came into the kitchen and opened a cabinet revealing an empty shelf. In fact, the few plates he had were either in the dishwasher or currently dirtied by breakfast.
“The plates go here. I’ll put the glasses and mugs up,” said Wade opening another cabinet and reaching for clean glasses from the top rack.
Standing next to Logan, Wade realized their differences. Wade was taller than his five ten and leaner in build, but he remembered the exposed biceps from the day before and knew underneath the clothes was a muscular body. He felt like he was in good shape even though he was now struggling to keep from getting a belly. The divorce had caused him to lose a lot of weight, then sitting alone afterward caused him to put on too much. Since then he had been doing projects on the farm he had been putting off. Projects that required physical labor, like a new section of fence and a small lean to on the barn where he was going to put a chicken coop, and he had pulled down his old bicycle and started riding again.
He watched Logan move gracefully, every movement fluid. There was no juggling of a plate or dropping of a spoon or fork. The long fingers held everything firmly, and he imagined them holding him, around the neck while kissing, or around his wrists, holding him down while…
“Wade…Wade, you ready to get that tractor unloaded?”
The tractor sat in the middle of the rear yard in front of the larger barn that would be its home when not in use. The cab door was open and crowded inside was Wade and Logan. Wade was in the seat and Logan bent over next to him going through all the systems, the automated aspects of them and the normal operating ranges for the transmission. The tractor was idling, with its air conditioner blasting out cool air trying to keep the open cab comfortable as the day quickly heated up.
Logan had gotten sweaty while getting the tractor unsecured and off the trailer and his scent seemed to fill the cab. A fresh sweat with a hint of deodorant fighting to control it. Wade struggled with their closeness, tried to avoid any physical contact, but Logan seemed not to care, constantly brushing an arm against him, or while leaning over to point at some control on the right hand side, pressing a leg against Wade’s leg or chest against his shoulder. It made Wade’s heart race and he felt foolish, chastising himself for acting like some schoolgirl with a crush on a boy. He was thirty-two. What was Logan? Twenty-four? Maybe? He thought of the boys in the county that would be about Logan’s age, how he viewed them as kids, so much younger, remembering them when they had been children. He had never considered them in the way he was thinking of Logan.
Watching the truck and empty trailer pull down the drive, and a hand stick out of the driver’s window waving goodbye, Wade stood in the yard, disappointed to see Logan leave. Once Logan was out on the highway and accelerating away, he finally turned to the shiny new tractor sitting in the yard. He smiled, able to fully realize it was now his.
Two nights later, about seven in the evening, Wade putting the last of his dirty dishes into the dishwasher, the phone rang, buzzing across the countertop.
The number was the tractor dealership and he hit accept. “Hello?”
“Wade. This is Logan. I was just calling to see how that tractor was working out?”
“Fine…fine. I used it bush hog around the fields just to get a feel for it.”
“Good. So, no problems or questions?”
“No, I think I got it,” Wade replied, disappointed he didn’t have questions or some problem that would require Logan to come back out.
“Good…good…that’s good. Hey, I was thinking…” Logan began, but fell silent.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, never mind…its was nothing. I’ll let you go. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” Wade replied, wondering what Logan was going to say, but too timid to ask.
“Have a good night,” said Logan and the call ended.
The next Saturday, with everything on the farm taken care of and the cows fed some additional silage, Wade dressed in clean jeans and white shirt to go into town for lunch. He was tired of preparing sandwiches and cooking and decided it would be a treat to eat at Lydia’s Café. The café was new to town, or new by their standards, having opened a year ago. It was one of three new businesses to come in and fill one of far too many empty storefronts. Across the street a coffee shop that was the first of the three, and down on the corner someone put in a microbrewer six months ago. The microbrewer was protested by some in town but once opened, it was obvious far more wanted it.
Driving down Main Street, it amazed Wade how those three new businesses made such a difference in town, the two blocks now so much busier. Even the older businesses seemed to be doing better. A drug store with a counter in back serving hot dogs, burgers and sandwiches. The main bank in the middle of one block and next to it a small hardware store that had changed over the years to become more of a garden center. There were two consignment shops, a pawn shop and in the smallest storefront a tattoo parlor. Wade didn’t know how it stayed in business, but it always seemed busy when he was in town.
Parked on a side street, Wade made his way to the café, already knowing what he was going to order. Strolling down the sidewalk he passed Cheryl, who ignored him for she was one of Katherine’s best friends, then he came upon Mr. and Mrs. Miller, an older couple who had worked at the elevator for a long time and had been instrumental in getting it built back in the 1960’s.
“Good morning,” Wade greeted them.
“Hey Wade, are you doing okay?” Mrs. Miller asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Wade found the café busy, even though it was still prior to noon and had to wait a few minutes for a table. He stood on the sidewalk in front looking at the news on his phone. He checked the current market price on soybeans, looked at the weather forecast, then thumbed through the news headlines, knowing he probably shouldn’t do it.
“Wade?”
Wade was startled by the sound of his name being called, and he turned to see Logan standing a few feet away.
“OH, hey, what brings you here?”
“Probably the same thing as you; lunch,” Logan replied, smiling back.
Logan looked different, more boyish, like a guy that should be in college or heading to a beach. There was no cap and his hair had a deliberate messy look to it that drew Wade’s eye before letting them scan downward. The now familiar face with its green eyes and smile that showed gleaming white teeth. Then there was the way Logan was dressed. A white tank top that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms, and skin that looked smooth and for a brief second Wade wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers over it. Finally, there were the cargo shorts that revealed hairy, strong legs and again Wade had illicit imaginings, this time those legs rubbing against his own.
“Yeah…lunch…I’m here…hey would you…you want to join me, or…”
“That would be nice. I hate eating alone,” Logan replied.
‘Eating alone’ Wade repeated to himself, wondering why Logan didn’t notice the looks by the women waiting to be seated, how several looked ready to jump him. But Logan was only looking at him, then leaned in closer.
“I assume you have your name on the list already?”
“Yes. Susan said it should only be a few minutes.”
“Wade. Wade, we got your table ready,” Susan called out as she leaned out the door.
“Thanks, and there will be two of us,” Wade replied to her, then looking at Logan, “speak of the devil.”
They were seated in the small courtyard in back. It had been part of the dirty alley, but Lydia had transformed it into a small courtyard with an ornamental tree in the middle and plantings around the perimeter that made it appear lush, another world that seemed to not belong in this small town. There was room for only a few tables and Wade and Logan found themselves sitting in a back corner, shielded from view of most of the others. It should have allowed Wade to relax, but it felt wrong, like a place meant for people on a date. An intimate space that allowed two lovers to speak things only meant for their ears. Logan looked relaxed, unworried how it might look to others, the two of them in such a place.
“Have you eaten here before?” asked Wade.
“Yeah, far too many times. Like I said the other day, I’m not a cook,” Logan replied, smiling at his own failings in a kitchen.
“I come occasionally. It gets old eating sandwiches or cooking for just myself.”
“You haven’t gotten back out there? You’re not dating anyone?”
“Oh, no, no.”
“Why not?”
Why not, indeed. How to respond to the question? It was too soon, he hadn’t found the right one, he hadn’t gotten up the nerve to try, or maybe he’d tell the truth, just put it out there. I’m gay and don’t know anyone to ask out and don’t want to go online for a hookup and there is no bloody place to go to meet guys without driving all the way to Montgomery, or Mobile, or Pensacola, or Atlanta.
“I don’t know…maybe I just haven’t found the right person to ask out.”
Logan smiled, knowingly, and sat back, chuckling, as if he heard some confession. It was be later before Wade realized what he had done. The way he responded, not saying woman, but person.
“I’ve been here, what is it now, nine weeks, and I find myself looking. Watching for someone who shows interest in me the way I find an interest in them. Some clue about the possibility of something existing between us.”
“But you do realize there are women giving you the eye. Did you see those two waiting out front?”
Logan laughed aloud, then sat up shaking his head. “I saw them.”
The waiter came with their food, setting plates down in front of each of them. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked standing back, looking from Wade then to Logan.
“I’m good; what about you?” Wade responded, looking over to Logan.
“I’m good too, thanks.”
While they ate, Wade shifted the conversation to Logan, asking about his childhood, growing up in Nebraska. By the time they were finished, they knew a little more about each other, of growing up on farms, and of Wade’s getting married and life with Katherine, and how it just ceased to have meaning. Of going through the daily motions of husband and wife till neither could do it anymore. Logan talked of his two years of college for diesel mechanics and special classes for farm machinery, then working in York, Nebraska until the move to Greenville.
On the sidewalk, they strolled down to the corner where Wade assumed, they would have to part ways. He was to the left about a block away.
“I’m this a way,” said Wade pointing down the street.
“And I’m just down the street in front of that church.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around…maybe we can…” Wade stammered, unsure what to say. It felt so alien to him, this desire to flirt with Logan, but at the same time fearing it was the wrong thing to do.
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“I…I was going to go down to the pond and fish. Just relax and enjoy the afternoon.”
“That sounds nice.”
“You like to fish?”
“When I can find a decent place to do it.”
“You want to come…would you like to come back to my place…we could fish for a while then…maybe…cook out later?”
“You’re not offering just to be nice? It’d be okay with you?”
“Yes! I mean, of course. It’ll be nice to have someone to hang out with instead of spending all day alone.”
“Great, I look forward to it. Let me swing by my place first, then I’ll come over. Say within the hour?”
“I’ll see you when you get there.”
Wade walked quickly to his truck, heels barely touching the concrete. He felt giddy, too excited for words. It was totally foolish to think of the afternoon with Logan and what could happen. What he wished to happen. He drove straight home, rushed in to change into clothes he didn’t mind getting messed up at the pond. A pair of old frayed jeans and a t-shirt that hung loose on his body, with frayed hems and a hole at the neck. He rolled the pant legs up and slipped on sport sandals that could handle getting wet.
He rushed down to his place for worms and dug up two enough for two cans. Back at the barn he loaded the trailer with rods, cane poles, tackle box and a cooler with ice, then went to the screen porch to wait. Nervously, right knee bouncing up and down, he waited.
About fifteen minutes later a vehicle could be heard on the highway, slowing down. Wade knew by the tire roar they were all-terrain or off-road tires. It pulled into his drive and Wade heard it move along the dirt drive till it came into view. An older Jeep Cherokee, jacked up, carrier over the top and heavy steel bumpers front and rear. It was set up for off-road use, not play as many of the trucks were in the area that had been altered. Behind the wheel was Logan, maneuvering the Cherokee around the house and stopping just behind his truck that was parked under the carport along the side of the back yard. Logan climbed out, dressed as before.
“I hear there is some good fishin’ in the area,” Logan joked as he came up the path to the screen door.
“I hope so. They bite some days and on others, not so much” Wade replied, as he opened the screen door letting Logan enter. “You want something to drink before we head down?”
“Actually, I’ve got a cooler of beer in the Jeep, if that is alright.”
“Yes, that sounds perfect. Shall we?” Wade motioned toward the barn where his gear waited. “I’ve got my gear pulled down and thought we could use my truck to ride back to the pond. So, if you want to move your…”
“We can take the Jeep.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, Wade in the passenger seat as Logan followed the two-rut lane along the edge of the field, they made their way past the pasture and to the woods at back. The lane cut under the canopy of trees and quickly came out into an open area where the pond lay in the middle of it.
“Wow, this is nice,” said Logan as he eased the truck to the side of the clearing, parking under the shade of a tree.
“It was a natural pond that was reworked back in the fifties to how you see it now. Over the years it has provided a lot of fish.”
“I bet.”
“Come on, let’s get set up.”
Wade led Logan to the far end, where he knew fish bedded in shallower waters. They eased down on the grassy bank and soon had lines stretched out into the calm waters. It was hot, sweat quickly trickling down their faces and backs and the water was too calm, the surface like a sheet of glass. The fish were not biting because of it.
“It’s too calm,” Wade whispered, to explain why their lines didn’t move.
“It’s fine. It’s nice just to be relaxing. This is only the third Saturday I’ve taken off.”
“What? Clinton making you work most weekends?”
“Oh no, he only asked once, but with nothing to do, I told him I’d work some Saturdays so…I’ve been in the shop most weekends.”
“The farm isn’t any better. Once harvest time comes then planting season, it is six or seven days a week, daylight to dark.”
“I know. I’ve helped with a harvest one year, and we went till ten or eleven at night most days,” said Logan, leaning back on elbows, stretching out his tall frame. Wade tried not to look but time and time again he cut his eyes over to the body next to him. The way the tank top lay loosely over the chest and stomach, and worse, rode up revealing a band of flesh just above the waist of the cargo shorts. He wondered how to suggest what he was thinking and knew he would never do it. What if he was wrong, misread every gesture or statement he thought spoke of some mutual understanding between them.
“Hey, Wade. You ever swim in the pond?”
“What? No,” he replied chuckling, suddenly remembering his youth at his grandfather’s place, “some of us boys use to sneak into grandfather’s pond. We played in that pond far more often than we fished in it.”
“How deep is this pond?” asked Logan, pushing the idea of swimming in it.
“This end is only two to three feet deep but about a third of the way across it gets deep. I checked it once and it was ten or eleven feet deep in the middle.”
“But you haven’t swam in it…yet?”
Logan had planted the idea and now it coalesced, took shape in Wade’s mind, the idea of swimming with Logan, the two of them stripping down to boxers and getting in the water…getting wet…revealing bodies, showing their masculine forms.
“You serious…about swimming?”
“It’s hot as fuck out here, Wade, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Wade replied, thinking of how hot it did seem, in ways he couldn’t express.
“Come on, then, let’s cool off,” Logan replied, reeling in his line.
Wade followed suit, reeling his line in as his heart beat hard in his chest, he wondered if Logan could hear it. As he secured his hook, he saw Logan stand up, pull the tank top over his head revealing a lean muscular chest and stomach. The nipples looked hard, sticking out and he imagined putting his lips around one of them, then his eyes fell downward as cargo shorts dropped to the ground. Logan had on boxers, but they were a tight cut, snug against the round ass, not loose like his own. And they were white, and once wet, he knew they would conceal nothing.
“Come on, Wade hurry up.”
Wade stood and removed his shirt, wondering how Logan would view him. The matt of hair over his chest, the slightly softer shape of his body, not as toned as Logan’s. He was at his ideal weight, actually below it some, but there was no six-pack or hard definition, not like on Logan. He glanced up as he undid his jeans and saw Logan staring at him, and it appeared to be a look he recognized. A look of longing, desire, some need he had been afraid to express.
Wade worked the jeans off and stood in his blue boxers, which were baggier than Logan’s and he was glad of it as he felt his cock stir. He was partial aroused with thoughts sexual in nature.
“Which side do you think it best to go in?” Logan asked, pointing to the back side of the pond, then the front side down from the Jeep.
“The back side drops harder, so let’s go in there,” Wade responded, leading the way, wanting to be in front where he couldn’t stare at Logan.
They were like boys again, playful, daring, with who could swim the longest underwater or the splash of water into the other’s face. They horsed around till exhausted and settled into a slow treading of water. Logan lay back, floating on his back and the front of body broke the water’s surface. The firm pecs, the flat stomach, the bulging cock visible through the wet fabric, then knees and finally the feet, as they pointed upward.
Wade stared openly at the exposed body, suffering a longing he didn’t know if he could endure. He had never wanted someone as much as he wanted Logan. He imagined it, let the scenarios flash through his mind, all sexual in nature. Unconsciously, he moved closer, closed the distance between them till he was only a few feet away, closer to Logan’s hips than his head. He saw the cock clearly through the fabric. How it curved over its sac, and the head flared out. He saw it move, roll slightly to one side, thickening and growing longer.
“Wade?”
Logan’s voice brought Wade back, crushed the imagine he had formed in his mind and he kicked off swimming on his back moving away. He didn’t respond to Logan, and saw Logan sink down below the water’s surface, only ripples and a few bubbles where he had been.
Logan surfaced near the bank and climbed up into the swallow water then on the bank. The white boxers clung to his ass and the bare skin glistened wetly in the bright sunlight. Wade watched him move up on the bank and turn back to him. His cock was half hard, pushing out on the front of the boxers and Logan did nothing to hide it.
“Wade…will you come out?” Logan asked as he pushed the boxers down and tossed them on the ground up near the Jeep. He stood naked, on full display with his cock growing hard.
Wade was nervous, but also too aroused to deny his feeling anymore. He swam toward Logan, climbed up into the shallow water. As he approached the bank, Logan met him, holding out a hand. The grip was firm and easily helped him out, pulling with surprising strength. He was pulled into Logan’s arms, their bodies pressed together. A hand on the back of his neck and he was looking up at Logan. The space between them disappeared and he felt lips against his own. He felt the firm chest. Cock pushed next to his own. A hand rubbing down his back to the top of his boxers, then slipping beneath them, cupping one cheek, then fingers grazing down between them. He moaned into Logan’s mouth as those fingers touched him, rubbed along a place he had not been touched in a very long time.
Logan stepped back and took Wade’s boxers on each side and pulled down, going down on knees in front of him. Wade shuddered as his cock was captured in Logan’s mouth. He grew hard, and fought the urge to fuck, to drive his cock into the back of Logan’s throat. Fingers toyed with his sac, tugged on it till it hurt and shivers ran up his spine. The hands moved around his waist and massaged his ass cheeks as his cock was manipulated by lips and tongue. Fingers dug between the ass cheeks and once again touched him, ran up and down the crevice between them. Then a finger rubbed his opening, pushed against it, then breached its tightness boring into his depths. He cried out and filled Logan’s mouth with his load.
Logan sucked, drew out every drop before releasing Wade, who struggled to maintain his balance. Logan stood and kissed him, giving him a taste of his own cum. He stayed aroused and unable to remain passive. He reached for Logan taking his hard cock, feeling the way it filled his hand. The shaft thick, hard as rock and he wanted it.
“Do me…put it in me,” Wade uttered in a strangled voice.
Logan led him toward the Jeep, where he watched the tailgate rise up and the interior compartment lure him in. With the back seat down the rear was large enough for the two of them and Logan followed him, moved up behind him, taking his waist. He felt the long lean body move over him, rub up along his back till lips were kissing his neck and cock pushed against his ass. He eased down on his stomach, hard cock trapped beneath him, as another pushed at his opening. He held tightly to the top of the seat back and shuddered with the pain of entry as Logan entered him. He moaned as cock worked back and forth in his opening, going deeper and deeper till hips was pushing against his ass.
“Fuck,” Logan uttered as he increased his pace, fucking Wade in a steady rhythm. The Jeep rocked on its suspension till it was squeaking softy to the tempo of Logan’s every push inward. Wade moaned and tried to push upward with is hips, some animalistic desire for the penetration to be deeper, to go to the very center of his being.
An arm around Wade’s neck and he felt the control, the way Logan had taken charge, setting their pace. A fast, brutal pace that sought release, that pushed Wade to the breaking point. His cock ached for release, painfully trapped beneath him. Every movement of their fuck making it hurt worse, a pain so pleasurable that Wade struggled to keep from coming again.
“Goddamn it,” Logan exclaimed as he rose to his hands and began to fuck with greater intensity. Hips smacked ass cheeks and the Jeep rocked harder on its suspension.
For Wade it seemed as if Logan grew thicker, longer, penetrating him more deeply than he could imagine. Every thrust seemed to hit something inside him. He pushed his face into the carpet and cried out as he came again, cum pooling around his spurting cock.
Logan felt it, the way Wade’s opening spasm while he came, and Logan hammered his cock through it till he couldn’t hold back. He thrust inward hard, hips smacking against ass cheeks and came. He shuddered with every ejaculation as he jammed inward each time, burying his cock into Wade’s depths.
The Jeep sat in the drive behind the house where everything appeared quiet, with doors closed and locked. The blinds were closed in the back bedroom and the shower ran hot in the bathroom. Under the spray, Wade leaned against the wall, his forehead pressed against it, while Logan fucked him again. Slower, each push inward so slow he could feel every inch slip through his tight opening. Hands moved over his chest and stomach, then held him by the shoulders, holding him firmly in place as cock bore into his depths over and over and over. His own cock angled out hard and its sac pulled up tight. He couldn’t believe how aroused he felt, how so fucking close to coming again.
Lips kissed the back of his neck, moved down and along the right shoulder. Light, soft kissed that teased the skin and made Wade want for more. There was a nip, a light biting of the flesh and Wade cried out. And pushed back on the cock sinking into his depths.
“Logan…please…” Wade uttered, wanting more, wanting the feel of cock inside him to continue. He felt the hips bump his ass, the stomach and chest against his back, the hands that held him firmly in place, and the lips that now kissed the side of his neck to the place just behind the ear, making his shudder.
Wade reached for his own cock. He wanted to feel the manipulation, the stroking of his own desires. A hand knocked his away and Logan whispered, “not yet.” Then hands held his waist, firmly, fingers digging into the flesh. Hips banged against his ass harder, faster, rocking him against the wall. “Fuck…Jesus…” Logan exclaimed as his pace increased. “I’m going to…” he stammered then slammed into Wade’s depths and shuddered with another release.
They were not completely dry, water droplets still clinging to their skin when Logan led Wade to his bed. The covers roughly pulled back, Logan leaned back on the bed, pulling Wade down on top of him. “Do me…please…fuck me this time,” Logan pleaded, and Wade moved over him, let the long hairy legs rest against his chest. The hairs tickled his skin, but he couldn’t fully register it as he moved over Logan, folding him over till his ass lifted off the bed and angled up for penetration.
“Do it…put it in me…come on, Wade…fuck me…” Logan pleaded as he held Wade’s rock-hard cock to his opening. Wade pushed against the tightness, felt the resistance to penetration even as Logan begged for it. He pushed and felt the tight squeeze on his cock head, then inch after inch of shaft as he slowly, painfully slow, pushed into Logan’s depths. Logan feel flat on the bed, head thrown back, eyes closed and a moan escaping his open mouth. Wade felt the tug on his cock as he pulled outward, lifted with his hips till only the head of his cock was still inside Logan, then he bore into him again, pushed till his hips pressed tightly against that firm upturned ass. Hands moved down his back and cupped his ass cheeks trying to pull him even deeper. They moved to his thighs where fingers dug into his flexing muscle as he moved inside Logan. Inward, and out, over and over, till the bed squeaked and rocked beneath them. He fucked, hard, fast, keeping up his pace till sweat beaded up on his skin and rained down on Logan. He fucked till his muscles burned with their exertions and his cock ached for release. He fucked like his life depended on it, and in some way, maybe it did. He leaned down and kissed Logan, on the lips, down along the jaw and around the neck as he piston cock inside Logan’s depths. He fucked till he couldn’t hold back, the need for release too great and he hammered his cock inside Logan till he shook and jerked with it, pumping everything he had inside him.
The sun was near the western horizon and the grill sizzled with the sound of steaks cooking. It was still hot, a relief provided by the beer Wade and Logan were drinking. They stood around the grill waiting on the steaks to get to that perfect rare center and grilled exterior. They were dressed in only shorts, and their skin glistened wetly in the sunlight as shadows stretched out across the ground. Wade stared openly at Logan, let his eyes follow every curve, every line of the exposed upper body, the neck and smiling face. Their talk was superficial, at times bawdy, playful, and when Wade turned the steaks over to cook on the other side for a couple of minutes, Logan pressed against his back and kissed his neck.
Wade told Logan to stay the night, he could go home the next morning and Logan did stay the night but did not go home the next morning, instead it was early Monday morning when Logan raced home to clean up and get ready for work.
They pretended to go through the ritual of dating, going out to diner up in Montgomery or in town on a Saturday night, crowded into Lydia’s where the single girls of the area flirted with Logan and the older single women came over to say hello to Wade, hinting at a willingness to go out sometime. They fought the urge to laugh out loud and kept their voices down so others would not overhear the bawdy comments and lewd suggestions for later in the night.
After two months, some rumors floated around the community. The boy who was living with Wade, always with him when in town out shopping at the grocery store or at Lydia’s for lunch or dinner, or on lazy Sunday afternoons, across the street in the coffee shop, huddled up around a small two-top table in back where no one else was able to join them. There were the insinuations, the gossip of this relationship, if that was what it was, between two men. Some ignored it, as they always have done but others wanted to cast judgment, to take a sanctimonious stand.
One Sunday afternoon, Wade and Logan strolling down the sidewalk in downtown, Katherine’s friend, Cheryl walked up, jaw locked tight and eyes looking furious.
“Wade, I think we need to talk,” Cheryl blurted out, not caring who heard.
“I don’t’ think so, but what do you want, Cheryl?” Wade replied, saying her name with a nasty tone, prepping himself for what he expected her to say.
“It’s obvious to some of us what is going on and it is a disgrace. Our children should not be exposed…”
“Cheryl, shut the fuck up. I know you voted for Trump, so you can spare me your sanctimonious bullshit. Give me a break. You really want to talk to me about family values? Seriously? Why don’t you do this town a favor, and for once in your life, mind your own fucking business,” Wade exclaimed, just as unconcerned about who overheard. “Come on, Logan, let’s go.”
Afterward there were some who were cold to Wade, avoiding him more than before. Katherine had called to ask why he had been so harsh with Cheryl, although she finally admitted Cheryl had changed in the last few years and was not the same person. But others were just as friendly, if not more so. Mrs. Miller stopped them coming out of the grocery, taking the time to ask how they were doing, as sincere as always.
Logan’s lease ended and he didn’t move to a better apartment, instead a Ford F250 sat in the parking lot where they loaded up his belongings. Across town and out into the countryside the truck carried Logan’s things till it reached the familiar farmhouse. The Jeep was parked next to the F-150 in the carport and the F-250 was backed up to the screen porch. Its contents were carried in, clothes to the closet filling the half once taken by Katherine. The laptop and personal items were carried into the front bedroom that had been turned into a home office. Logan’s maintenance manuals already lined the shelves of one bookcase and Wade’s books on farming the other. The house was the same house as it had been for a hundred years, but there was a difference too. The sounds of life inside not the same, none more so than when Alice and Amy stayed for a week, playing with Logan as if he were a brother. And when it was just Wade and Logan, the sounds were yet different again. The sounds of two men, in the kitchen or the living room, or later in the night or on a rainy afternoon, in the bedroom, where there were the exertions of sex, the cries of desire and the pleadings for more.
And on a hot Labor Day weekend, down at the pond, there as the splash and ruckus of two grown men acting like boys, playing in the pond, swimming back and forth in its cool waters then climbing out and doing another type of play on its banks.
For Wade, he didn’t underestimate how his life had changed. How he found a happiness not experienced in a long time. He still stared at Logan, always amazed at how someone like him could find a way into his life. Logan still aroused him, at times making him feel like that teenager in twelfth grade finding his sexuality for the first time. Only now he understood himself better, no longer had those fears and doubts. It was the life dreamed of many years ago
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