A Second Harvest by Eli Easton

attractive young man—not as young as David thought, but still considerably younger than him. He imagined Christie would have no trouble finding people his own age who desired his company, especially young women. Yet here he was, spending time with David. He asked a lot of questions, looked directly into David’s eyes a discomforting amount of the time, smiled and laughed at the things David said like he was actually paying attention.
    It struck David that it had been a long time since anyone truly saw him. To Amy and Joe, he was just “Dad.” They asked him how the farm was doing, or about his health, but that was about it. And when Susan was alive, they’d gotten far too comfortable with each other. She was always wrapped up in her sewing or church work or books. She’d ask what he wanted for dinner or talk about the kids or people they knew. But he couldn’t remember the last time she’d really looked at him.
    Are you happy, David?
    When was the last time anyone cared if he was happy, as long as he continued to maintain the farm and put money in the bank for school, clothes, and food?
    That isn’t fair , he chided himself. Amy worried about him, he knew. And Joe was a good kid. His family loved him, but he still felt invisible most of the time.
    Then again Christie was just a stranger making small talk. It didn’t mean anything. Still, the company was stimulating. He liked the fact Christie spoke his mind, like he’d done about religion and his parents. He didn’t pull punches or give what he thought was the right answer, or simply quote scripture. David was both taken aback and admiring of that fact.
    After they ate, David put the leftovers in the fridge and started dishwater in the sink. He washed the dishes and Christie dried.
    “How old is this farmhouse?” Christie asked as he took a wet plate from David.
    “The main house was built in seventeen fifty-three. That’s pretty much the front two rooms.”
    “No shit! Can I take a look after we’re done here?”
    “Sure.” David wasn’t used to the profanity, but Christie didn’t seem to mean anything bad by it, so he decided it didn’t matter. It made Christie seem even more worldly and mysterious in David’s eyes.
    After Christie’s bag was repacked with clean and empty containers, David led the way to the front of the house. The front two original rooms had high ceilings, old-fashioned crown moldings, deep windowsills because of the thick stone walls, and a huge fireplace. Susan had turned them into a formal parlor and a study, but they were rarely used even when Amy and Joe lived at home. These days David spent all his time in the kitchen, where a small table and TV served his needs. It was easier to heat too. Which meant the front rooms were tidy but could use a good dusting.
    Christie wandered around looking at everything. He ran his fingers over the fireplace’s old lintel and ended up in front of the bookshelf with its shelves of magazines. “Someone likes National Geographic .”
    “Those are mine.”
    Christie turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “What do you like about them?”
    David hesitated. It wasn’t something he talked about much, but he felt an urge to show Christie he thought about things other than the farm and the next crop. “I like to learn about other places. It’s my way of traveling, I guess.”
    “Yeah?” Christie’s smile was soft. “What’s your favorite issue?” He trailed his long, thin fingers over the spines.
    David immediately knew the answer to the question, but he felt a twinge of doubt. Probably Christie would think he was ridiculous. He hesitated then reached out, pulled a magazine, and handed it to Christie.
    Christie looked at the cover. “Polynesia?”
    “Yeah. Maybe because we’re so landlocked here, but I like islands. Polynesia has the best ones, like Bora Bora.”
    The magazine was still in Christie’s hands. David carefully turned to an oft-viewed page. The