Cultivating Love Page 10

  “Sure, dear. And you’ll come see us now, too?”

  “If you want us to.” Us. He thought he’d make that point clear.

  “You and Ed are welcome anytime.” She glanced at his father, giving him “the eye.” Joe remembered being on the receiving end of that look.

  His father was quick to second her. “Of course.” He gently squeezed Joe’s shoulder.

  Joe swallowed. Damned drugs made him feel sentimental. He missed this. He missed it so much. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed feeling the glow of his father’s love and approval. He nodded because he didn’t trust himself to say anything. All he’d ever wanted to do was make the man proud.

  A nurse peeked into the room and smiled when she saw him awake. “Hey there, sleepyhead. Glad to see you’re alert.”

  “Tired still, but I’m awake now.”

  “I’ll let the doctor know. He wants to speak with you before you’re moved out of ER. Then you can sleep all you want.”

  “Okay.”

  She left again, and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll leave you for now and stay at the farm until you get home. We can visit more then.”

  “Okay, Mom. It was nice seeing you again.”

  His father squeezed his shoulder again. “See you tomorrow, Joe.”

  “Okay, Dad. It was good seeing you, too. Oh, and thanks again for taking care of things at the farm.”

  He smiled. “Next time, let’s have a reason other than someone ran away or landed in the hospital, okay?”

  Joe laughed. “It’s a promise.”

  They left Joe alone with his thoughts, wondering why he needed to blink back tears when this was really a good thing. Damned drugs dripping into his veins, that was why. He was happy when Ed returned to distract him. Then the doctor stopped by and pretty much told him the same stuff that Ed had already passed on. An orderly came in, moved all his tubing and wires to a pole on the bed, and wheeled him out. He closed his eyes again, just for a minute, to rest.

  Chapter 9: Home Again

  “I don’t really need those pills. I don’t want to be sleeping all day long like I did in the hospital.”

  Christ, Ed thought, it was like pulling teeth trying to get Joe to follow the doctor’s instructions. “We’re getting the prescription filled. Jesus, quit bitching already. Read that checklist and get used to it, because you will be following it—to a tee.”

  “The pills are for pain and it says ‘as needed.’ I think I can decide for myself if I need them or not.”

  “At the very least, you can take them at night and do some over-the-counter stuff during the day. We are getting it filled.”

  Joe grumbled. “Well, maybe at night. I want to be alert during the day, though. I need to finalize the cattle sale arrangements.”

  “Just don’t overdo it. And keep me in the loop. I want to learn everything. As this little episode has taught us, we never know when one of us might be laid up, so we both need to know what’s going on and how to do shit.”

  “Of course I’ll keep you in the loop. It’s your farm, for Christ’s sake.”

  “No, goddammit. It’s our farm, and the sooner you get that through your thick skull, too, the happier I’ll be.”

  Joe clenched his jaw in that familiar determined way, and staring straight ahead, finally grunted, “Fine.”

  Good enough. He’d figured out that Joe’s attitude had nothing to do with how he felt about him. Nothing to do with a reluctance to make that level of commitment to him. It was simply a case of being unused to, and uncomfortable with, having something he felt he hadn’t earned being handed to him. Ed could totally relate to that. He knew that was part of the reason Joe worked so hard on the farm.

  He pulled up in front of the Mayfield pharmacy, rolled down the windows, and turned off the ignition. “You can stay in the car, if you want.” Ed knew getting up and down was rather painful for Joe and hoped the stubborn fool would agree to stay put.

  Joe sighed, and apparently good sense prevailed. “Yeah, no reason for us both to go in, I guess.”

  Ed got out, then leaned in the window. “Oh, I’ll need your insurance card.”

  Joe grimaced as he fished out his wallet and handed him the card.

  “Thanks.”

  Joe looked miserable as Ed entered the store. Stubborn fool needed to get comfortable with the idea that their budget was now completely shared. He was probably sitting in the car calculating how much work he’d have to do to feel like he’d earned this hospital visit.

  Ed handed the prescription and insurance card to the pharmacist, then took a look around the store while he waited. He picked up some extra-strength acetaminophen since he knew it was pointless to expect Joe to take the stronger prescription-strength pain reliever during the day. It would be a good idea to choose his battles, so he’d have a better chance of winning the important ones.

  He grabbed a box of chocolate-covered cherries, too. In the hospital, Joe had mentioned how his mother loved them, then had opened up for a half-conscious trip down memory lane for about a half hour after settling in his room. Then he’d crashed for the night, and Ed had gotten in a call to Bill before settling down for a restless night himself.

  It didn’t take long for the pharmacist to fill the prescription and call Ed to the window. “How’s he doing?” the pharmacist asked as he handed Ed his change.

  Ed recognized the man as the other team’s right fielder. “Gonna be fine. Bruised kidney. Had to spend the night at the hospital. They kept him for observation, and he has to take it easy for a while.”

  “Glad to hear it wasn’t worse than that. Y’all gonna need help on the farm with him down?”

  “We’re pretty well caught up on the field work. I know how to do the daily stuff with the animals now, so we’ll be okay.”

  “That’s good.” He handed the bag to Ed and thanked him for his business.

  A few minutes later, Ed gave the bag to Joe through the window, then opened the door to slide in behind the wheel. Poor guy didn’t appear any happier now than he’d looked when Ed had entered the pharmacy. Ed clenched his jaw.

  “You’ve already earned it, Joe, so quit dwelling on it. Jesus, put yourself in my shoes. How would you feel if the roles were reversed?”

  The abrupt remark obviously surprised Joe. His chin dropped. “How did…?”

  “I know you. Put yourself in my shoes for a minute. What would you have done about any of this? And how would you feel about it?”

  Joe swallowed, but a little of the gloom left his eyes. “I see your point. Doesn’t make it easy, though.”

  “Doesn’t have to be so hard, either.”

  Joe nodded. “It just…is.”

  “We’re doing okay, you know. You’ve seen the books. Of course, it’ll put a dent in our safety net, but that’s what safety nets are for. This isn’t going to hurt us. Not really.”

  “I guess.”

  He guessed? Christ, it was getting old. “It’s just money, damn it. Don’t let it come between us.”

  Joe’s head snapped up. That had finally caught his attention. “It won’t. Shit, Ed, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Well, it did kind of hurt, even if he understood where Joe was coming from. He didn’t reply.

  “I’m sorry. I am. I do see your point. Christ, I’d have done everything you’ve done and would probably be pissed as hell at your ungrateful ass.” Joe rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, and thank you—for everything. I’ll stop being such an asshole.”

  Joe seemed sincerely concerned. Hell, Ed hadn’t meant to imply that it was coming between them. They were a long way from that. “It’s fine. We’re fine. I just…shit…I just hate seeing you so unhappy.”

  “I’m not unhappy. Not with us, anyway. Never. I’m sorry.”

  “Just quit being unhappy about money. I didn’t earn all this any more than you did. It fell into my lap, and I couldn’t begin to make a go of this without you. It’s ours and that’s
fair. Just…just start acting like you believe in that. That’ll make me happy.”

  Joe nodded. “Again, thank you. For everything. From the bottom of my heart.” Joe swallowed. “You know how much farming has always meant to me, right? How much I’ve always dreamed of having my own farm? But you’re more important now. Us being together, happy, is more important to me than having my own farm.”

  All the tension that had built up in Ed’s limbs during their conversation swiftly drained out of him. It felt so good to hear Joe put that into words. Ed leaned across and kissed Joe’s lips. He meant for it to be only a quick peck, but Joe held his head in place for a full ten seconds’ worth. When Joe pulled back, they both grinned, and Ed knew all was well between them.

  * * * *

  Considering the way Ed had stopped short after walking two steps toward the front bumper, Joe could tell his partner was dying to come around and help him out of the car. Ed was smart enough to resist, though. Joe didn’t need anyone treating him like a damned invalid.

  He looked up at the sound of the screen door opening then slamming shut. Jenny smiled, bouncing on the porch. He smiled back at her. She was a good kid and he was going to miss her. He and Ed both would, but why the hell was she so keyed up?

  Ed quirked an eyebrow at him, apparently noticing her excitement, too. Joe shrugged, and they eventually walked up to meet her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, I know you still hurt, but you’re going to be okay, right?”

  “I’ve got pills if I need them. I’m fine.”

  “But he needs to sit back and take it easy for a bit,” Ed added.

  She gave Joe a hug. “Good.” The she turned to Ed. “You’ll make sure he doesn’t work before he’s supposed to, right?”

  Christ. Ed was bad enough. He didn’t need to hear it from Jenny, too.

  “You’d better believe it,” Ed replied, leveling a determined look in Joe’s direction.

  He was doomed. He rolled his eyes and accepted his fate as graciously as he could manage.

  Ed opened the screen door, and they stepped into the house. Joe noticed more than a dozen vases full of flowers scattered on every available surface in the living room. Most looked like handpicked arrangements from folks’ gardens, and a couple appeared to be professional bouquets with get-well balloons tied to them. All had cards or notes attached. He stood in the middle of the room, slowly shaking his head in astonishment. Clearly a number of people who’d either witnessed the injury or heard about it had cared enough to show support.

  “Wow.” He looked at Ed, who seemed equally surprised, if his widened eyes and slack jaw were any indication.

  “This is nice.” Ed’s reply seemed an understatement.

  There was nothing like a little underhanded and unprovoked violence to rally folks around a cause they’d probably never cared two shakes about before. This was beyond nice. It helped restore his faith in the basic decency of the general population. Hell, Stan had probably done them a favor, at least where boosting their acceptance by the townspeople of a small Midwestern town was concerned.

  His mother came up behind him. “Isn’t this lovely?”

  “It is. When did all this arrive?”

  His father replied, “A few were waiting on the porch when we got back last night. The rest filtered in throughout the morning.”

  Joe turned to Ed. “We’ll have to go through these cards and notes. I want to be sure and send thank-you notes to everyone.”

  Ed nodded his agreement. “But first, lunch. Something smells delicious.”

  It did, and it smelled suspiciously like his mother’s chicken pot pie. They trooped into the kitchen, and Ed brought a folding chair up from the cellar.

  They started the conversation with neutral topics. His father let them know what he’d done with the animals and complimented Joe on the orderliness of the barn and outbuildings. It felt good knowing he’d met his dad’s high standards, but he could hardly take all the credit.

  “I did a little reorganizing, but the place was already in great shape when we got here. Very well maintained.”

  “Jenny gave us a little history about that. What a sad story.”

  Ed replied, “I try not to dwell on it because there’s nothing that can be done to right the wrong anymore. I don’t want to think badly of my mother, but what she did was so unethical. I hate that my father died thinking I’d rejected him, and I hate that I never got to know him. Everything I’ve learned about him tells me I would have loved and respected him.”

  Joe’s father nodded. “I can’t say I’ll ever understand what makes you guys…well…the way you are, but I realize now it’s not a conscious choice you’re making. And being gay? It’s not so earth-shattering after all. It doesn’t justify tearing a family apart.” He looked into Joe’s eyes. “I learned the hard way.”

  That was much more than Joe had ever expected his father to say, and it was surprisingly less awkward than simply pretending “it” never happened. He grinned and the look of unease on his father’s face melted away. “Thank you.” From the bottom of my heart.

  His mother and Jenny smiled, and Ed gave him a thoughtful glance with an accompanying grin, but no one said more on the subject, and Joe liked it that way. Let it be over now.

  His mother was still good at changing subjects. “Jenny tells me there’s a woman in town who’s going to come over this week to start your canning.”

  “Chrissy Ingalls. She and her husband, Ben, own the hardware store.” He turned to Jenny. “Ben was the pitcher on our team for the softball game. Anyway, Mom, I guess she does that for several folks in exchange for a share of the jars.”

  “Your garden looks wonderful. There’s more than enough there for just the two of you.”

  “Looks like I’ll get out of the garden harvesting unless Ed backs down a little on my work restrictions this week.” Ed’s narrowed eyes told him that was unlikely. “But I’m sure I can manage some of the green bean snapping, even though Chrissy said she’d handle that part. I need to do something to feel useful.” He hoped the resolve he placed in the gaze he leveled at Ed was just as clear.

  “I can live with that,” Ed replied, relenting. “But nothing actually in the garden. I’ll handle that.”

  And so it went.

  Chapter 10: Sticks and Stones

  “I believe you.” Deputy Anderson nodded sympathetically. “I was in the stands and saw it happen. You’re right, though, won’t matter how many people are sure it was intentional, they weren’t in Stan Kramer’s head, so it would be difficult to convince a jury there wasn’t reasonable doubt.”

  “Yeah, we figured,” Joe said. “We just want an official record in case a pattern develops.”

  “Absolutely. And you’re still welcome to press charges. Never know what an investigation might turn up.”

  “Nah,” Joe replied. “For every witness that would swear he’d done it on purpose, he’d probably be able to come up with another to say the opposite.”

  “Solid fact,” the deputy said.

  Besides, as Ed had pointed out to Jenny at the hospital, merely filing the report might be enough to prevent Stan from taking any more chances. Pursuing actual charges might piss him off more, but worse, could turn the tide of public sympathy in his direction with cries of wrongful prosecution from those who hadn’t seen the incident with their own eyes and were more likely to be suspicious of the newcomers.

  Ed fidgeted in his seat, then cleared his throat. “About my father’s motorcycle crash.”

  The deputy’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

  Joe nodded his encouragement. He knew Ed was uncomfortable bringing it up, but they’d talked about it and realized Ed would never get past the suspicion that Stan’s comments had stirred up unless they asked the question.

  “Stan—he was probably just trying to get a rise out of me, but he made some comments that suggested maybe it hadn’t been an accident after all. How much of an investigation was there?�
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  “You can rest assured it truly was an accident,” Deputy Anderson said. “There was a witness who saw the whole thing from atop his tractor. Nobody else was on the road at the time. The man was in his field all morning, and nothing happened to arouse his suspicions. Nobody stopped in the road at that spot or anything like that.”

  “I went to the site not too long after getting to town. Seemed like there’d been a hole or something that was recently filled?”

  “A number of folks who use that road have stated that it showed up after a recent heavy rain. Fred would’ve noticed it, too. Must’ve been distracted or forgotten about it. Looked like it’s probably what triggered his wipeout.”

  “So it looked like something that had washed out naturally?”

  “It did. I’m sorry. Stan’s a bit of an ass for trying to imply otherwise—and quite frankly, knowing him, it doesn’t shock me—but it really was an unfortunate accident.”

  Joe patted Ed’s thigh. The stiffness in Ed’s muscles relaxed. “Thank you,” Ed replied. “That helps.”

  “No problem. Never hurts to ask.”

  It took a while for Anderson to write up the statement about the softball incident, but it was worth the hassle and the wait. They could breathe easier knowing there was an official record on file and that a deputy had witnessed the incident and fully believed it to have been deliberate, even though it couldn’t be proven.

  * * * *

  After closing the truck door, Ed turned to Joe. “How’re you feeling?”

  Joe shrugged. “Fine. Glad that’s done.”

  “Do you want to go straight home to rest, or are you okay with stopping by the graveyard?”

  “Oh, yeah, the stone. I’m fine. Let’s go look at it before heading home.”

  Russell, a man from the funeral home that had taken care of his father’s burial, had contacted Ed to let him know the grave marker was in place. After sitting with Bill and going through photo albums and listening to stories, his father no longer seemed like such a stranger. Ed felt ready to pay his respects with sincerity. Their relationship was less abstract, and it would mean more now than it would have done when they’d first arrived in Mayfield.