Dale Vaden stepped out the front door, onto the porch. The overhanging roof shaded him from the gentle rays of the afternoon sun. It was a beautiful, spring day. The temperatures had been hovering in the mid-sixties for the past week. He stretched his back, groaning as his spine popped and realigned. Clearing a house of 40 years accumulation of living was not easy.
He walked down the three concrete steps at the place where porch and house joined. Stepping to the left, he seated himself on the edge of the porch. He tilted his face to the sun, reveling in the soft heat and light that bathed his skin, and turned the sightless vision behind his closed lids, a rich, radiant red. A lazy breeze touched him now and then. It sent a shiver through him, reminding him of a lover's caress, a lover who was gone after four years. Four years in which Dale had surrendered his heart and believed he'd found his life's partner. How could he have known that Tony didn't feel the same?
Dale's eyes opened as thoughts of Tony flooded his mind, "Ah shit." he whispered.
He stared across the rolling, stubbled fields that surrounded his three acres of land, in the midst of Illinois farm country. Tony was exactly what he didn't want to think about. Tony, with his tall, dark, Italian good looks. His glossy black hair, tremendously sexy, brown eyes, and his larger than life presence. It was infectious, the way he drew every eye in the room with his open, easy attitude and that booming laugh that invited everyone to join in his amusement.
Head shaking, he attempted to deny the wrenching sense of loss and the dark abyss that threatened to open at his feet when thoughts of Tony crept in. Tony and David. Even after two years, two years in which he'd come to realize that Tony really wasn't the man he'd thought him to be, it still hurt. It still hurt to think about David, his own brother, being instrumental in the breakup that tore the heart from him, and left him feeling empty and alone. Feeling not only empty and alone, but more lost than he'd ever felt in his life.
He rubbed a hand across his face, sighing in resignation. A frown crinkled his brow as he admonished himself. It did no good to dwell on the past, at least as far as he and Tony were concerned. He needed to keep reminding himself that this was for the best, that Tony had never truly made him happy. Tony was too much, 'out there.' He was always busy running around, socializing, frittering away his time and money. Sure, he made a good living and worked hard, but he spent it almost as fast as he earned it. His attitude sometimes made Dale nervous.
Responsible, staid Dale, who liked to spend the occasional weekend at home instead of running all over creation. Who liked knowing there was a nest egg in the bank, who paid his bills on time and made his deadlines with unerring accuracy.
It was his and Tony's biggest bone of contention. When he was denied his way, Tony pouted with all the aplomb of a four year old. His idea of fun was spending the weekends in endless rounds of shopping, mall, and bar hopping. Dale had generally given in and gone along, until he began to feel resentful and put upon. The years of separation had shown him clearly that their relationship had been headed for trouble. Something that he'd been unable to admit while blinded by his love and need for Tony's companionship. Blinded by the picture he'd built in his mind, instead of seeing the reality of the situation.
Everything considered, Dale knew, if he was honest with himself, his biggest loss was his relationship with his brother. It had been such a shock when David and Tony had come to him, announcing that they wanted to be together. Dale had had a feeling that Tony was drifting away, it just never occurred to him that the someone he was drifting towards, was David. It was a double betrayal, one that had rocked him to his very foundations.
He missed his brother. That was why he struggled so hard to be honest with himself, to lay to rest the demons that tormented him. David had made several attempts to reconcile, but Dale had not been ready to accept his overtures. The pain was too fresh and too raw. His thoughts had been disorganized and jumbled. The ability to think clearly, without the emotional baggage clouding his thought processes, had been impossible. And so he held on to his hurt, nursing it, until the fog had lifted and he began to see all the components involved in the breakup. He began to see that Tony and David had not wanted to hurt him. His brother wasn't a heartless betrayer, he was a man in love.
A wry smile tilted his lips. Now David contended with the never ending running and Tony's spend-thrift ways. And yet, from what he heard from mutual friends, David was successfully taming Tony's wild side. Dale wasn't surprised. David had a way about him, a stubborn core of strength, that when he brought it to bear on a person, he usually managed to bend the unsuspecting victim to his way of thinking. It was a quality Dale lacked, one he admired and had been the target of many times as they grew up.
A full fledged smile lit his face as he thought of David. Dale realized, barring any reservations David might have, and he seemed to have none, that he was nearing the point of being ready to resume a relationship with his brother. A phone call first, he decided. He wasn't quite ready to see the reality of David and Tony together in domestic bliss, but a phone call would be a good start.
That resolved, Dale felt the tension that pulled at his shoulders, ease. Now all I need is a truck to haul all this stuff to Goodwill, a dumpster for the rest and a good man to give me a massage when I get all this hauling done, he thought to himself.
The dull drone of a tractor broke his train of thought. As though on cue, it came into view on the road in front of the house. Seated behind the wheel was a broad-shouldered man in dusty jeans, tee shirt, and work boots. He wore sunglasses, and had a baseball cap perched on his head. Dale couldn't make out his features or his age very well, though from his general build and posture, he seemed young. As he watched, the man turned his head, spotting him on the porch. The farmer lifted an arm and waved a friendly greeting, which Dale returned. He continued to the far edge of the field which was bordered by a hedge row. He turned the tractor in and began making rounds. The tractor hauled some kind of tank set up, which Dale assumed contained fertilizer or weed control of some kind.
He watched the farmer make a few rounds, then sighed and rose, determined to continue until the house was cleared. His grandmother had accumulated a lot of things over the years. A few things of value, like the oak library table, barrister bookcase and the two amazingly comfortable, heavy oak arm chairs with deep padded seats that resided in her bedroom. She also had an extensive set of Franciscan Ware dishes in a poppy pattern, that was displayed in a beautiful mahogany china cupboard. They were actually quite cheery looking with their raised yellow flowers and green leaves, Dale liked them. But for the most part, it was the ordinary assemblage of things one picks up as one goes through life.
Their grandmother had left the house equally to Dale and David. Dale had been seized by the notion of making a change, deciding to move, hoping the distance between himself, Tony and David would help. True it was only a few hundred miles, but Dale had found himself relaxing after the move. He'd been unaware of the tension his body was generating at thoughts of meeting Tony or David in the public places the three of them frequented. Even simple things like grocery shopping had left him with a headache.
He'd had their lawyer contact his brother about buying his half of the property, to which David had been more than agreeable. David had never been fond of vegetating in the country, perhaps another reason that he and Tony got on so well.
Dale had gratefully cleared his condo of anything unwanted, packed what he needed, arranged to have the rest of it shipped and got out of Dodge. As a writer, he was able to locate anywhere he pleased. Suddenly he was aware of the fact that he was very pleased. He loved the house. The grounds and gardens needed help and he had lots to keep him busy. He began to whistle a little off-key ditty as he returned to boxing up and clearing out the contents of the house.
* * *
Rick Hunter made yet another round on the tractor. The job was rote, one he'd done so many times over the years it was automatic. He'd learned farming from his father and his grandfather, it was something that ran in the Hunter men's veins, mingling with their blood. Normally, he could disconnect from everything, concentrate on the job, leaving his thoughts, however troubling, behind. Not today. Today, they insisted on jabbing at him with pitchfork-like tongs that had his head throbbing.
