23. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
J on loaded up his plate from the pots and pans on the stove. Tonight, it was a thick stew with root vegetables and soy curls along with Samuel's freshly baked bread and a walnut pesto spread. Good eats. He started to leave the house with his plate and hesitated.
Samuel, Eddie, and Elijah were seated at the kitchen table, eating in silence. Jon argued with himself a moment before striding over there. He put his plate down at the empty spot across from Elijah and took off his coat. He ignored the curious stares.
"Apartment's cold," he said, sitting down.
Samuel smiled. "Well, you're welcome anytime."
"What's wrong with your apartment?" Eddie frowned. "Is the heater not working?"
"It's fine. I turned it on before I came over. Takes a bit to heat the room, is all."
Jon glanced at Elijah and saw a pleased smile on his face. But, like a rabbit in the snow, as soon as Jon looked, the smile vanished, and Elijah looked bored. Jon grinned.
Eddie cleared his throat and sat up straighter. "Actually, since you're here, we can discuss this weekend."
"The Thanksgiving banquet," Samuel nodded. "It'll be Elijah's first. I meant to fill him in."
Samuel proceeded to lay it out while Jon focused on his food. They used the upper level of the barn for events and sold eighty seats. The Thanksgiving banquet was sold out, as was the Christmas one in December. They always were. A local woman, Stephanie, catered all the food for their events. She was an excellent vegan chef and a huge animal lover, so she did it for a crazy low price and most of the proceeds went into running the farm. There would be a three-piece chamber ensemble made up of music students from a college in Lancaster, and a bar where the guests could purchase drinks. The bar was run by a bartender, Leon, from a restaurant in Mount Joy.
Jon grimaced at the thought of Leon and took a big bite of bread. The guy always came on to him. He was too heavy, too sweaty, and he smoked, not at all Jon's type. His gaze went to Elijah's bright, pretty face and something warm and wiggly stirred in his groin.
Stop it. He's too young. And too close to my work. He wished his dreams would get the memo.
"Do guests ever drink too much?" Elijah asked, trying not to sound worried and failing.
"Never been a problem," Samuel said.
"But since we have Elijah this year," put in Eddie, "it's not a bad idea to have him out at parking at the end of the evening. To look for anyone who shouldn't drive."
"How would I know?" Elijah asked.
"Oh, you'd know," said Eddie with a chuckle.
Elijah was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, and Jon was gonna speak up, but Samuel beat him to it. "If you see anyone walking unsteady, or being overly loud, or just anythin' that don't look normal, you can call Jon on the walkie-talkie, and we'll come out and handle it." He looked at Eddie. "Good thinkin'."
Jon nodded. "You definitely don't have to deal with it on your own. And it probably won't happen."
Elijah's frown didn't budge. "So I'll be on parkin' duty? Before dinner too?"
"Up to Jon," Samuel said, looking at him for input.
"Is that a problem?" Jon asked Elijah.
Elijah gave him a weak smile. "No."
It was one of Elijah's lies. Or, more generously, one of his polite demurrals. Jon was starting to get a feel for his evasions. But why didn't Elijah want to do parking? Had someone given him a hard time at the Halloween event? Or maybe he didn't like being around cars? But that made little sense. Despite using horses and buggies, the Amish had to deal with cars around the area all the time.
"Jon usually wears a black turtleneck and black pants to serve," said Eddie. "That'll work for a standard look. I have a black turtleneck that's too small for me that might fit you."
"I hope I don't mess up," Elijah said. "I never waited on people before."
"It's easy," said Jon. "The caterers make up the plates. All you have to do is carry them to the table and put them down in front of people."
"Water, iced tea, and coffee are on the table too," said Eddie. "And if they want something else, they get it themselves at the bar."
"We try to keep it simple," said Samuel.
"You'll be fine," said Jon.
Elijah gave him a grateful glance, and their eyes held a beat too long. Jon's belly gave another warm swoop. He ignored it.
As the talk went into more details about the upcoming event, Jon forgot about Elijah's reluctance over parking. It flew away as easily as the food on his plate disappeared into his stomach.
They started prepping the next day. Jon and Elijah swept the upper barn out and set up the long tables and chairs they kept in storage. The white fairy lights strung up over the rafters stayed in place all year, but Eddie had bought more to add. Hay bales and other decorations were artfully arranged—or as artfully as Jon could manage, which wasn't very. Large space heaters were dragged into place. It got cold in the barn, and the heaters made it bearable. The bar area and the small stage for the musicians had to be dusted, swept, and decorated. They collected boughs that had fallen in a recent wind and cut fresh ones. They supplemented with additional lights, gourds, pumpkins, gold bows, and baskets of apples and pears, squash and pinecones.
As they worked, it struck Jon how it felt easy and seamless. Even a month ago, putting up Halloween decorations, he'd been tense and uncomfortable with Elijah. Now the man was like a shadow that moved along with him, step by step, without requiring direction or concentration. When did that change?
The kid was a hard worker, right enough, and quiet. He never complained or wasted time.
The sex dreams Jon had been having had nothing to do with it. Definitely not.
Once the event space was ready, it was time to get the daily use areas of the farm spic-and-span and ready for visitors. The people who came to the events liked to tour around and see the animals. They were the big draw, after all. Especially Ginger and Fred, the two cows who'd been at the farm from the start, and Benny, the little black pig who'd led his entire family of pot bellies to freedom like Moses. For Thanksgiving, however, Mack and Jack were the stars of the show.
Jon finished up in the pig barn and went over to the chicken yard to see how Elijah was getting on. It looked good. They kept the yard shoveled of snow for the birds, and the sun that day had been strong enough to melt the thin layer left after their shoveling—except for some clumps around the large chicken coop where the shadows had blocked the sun's rays. The yard was a large area fenced with chicken wire on all sides as well as over the top. Every predator known to man loved chicken, and hawks would dive in and kill them if the yard wasn't protected from above.
Nature red in tooth and claw.
Elijah came out of the chicken coop looking a little dusty. A month ago, Jon would have gone in to check his work, but he knew by now it would be clean and orderly with fresh straw in all the nesting boxes.
"Where are Mack and Jack?" Jon asked.
"Inside." Elijah jerked his thumb at the chicken house. "Those two hoard the space heaters."
Jon let himself in through the gate to the yard. "We need to move 'em."
"Move 'em?"
"They'll be in a pen in the pig barn for the event. Otherwise, they'll roost and the guests'll never see 'em. Turkeys. It's a Thanksgiving thing. I got their pen set up. It's the small one at the end of the first row, where we normally store stuff."
"Oh. Okay."
Elijah led the way into the chicken house. It was large for a coop with twenty nesting boxes on one wall and little wooden ramps running up and down so the chickens could get to them. It was funny how certain chickens claimed certain boxes, some birds nesting together. The more dominant birds got the highest ones. It was chicken instinct to roost high in trees at night to protect themselves from predators. At least, it was an instinct left over from distant ancestors. Not many chickens survived in the wild anymore.
Turkeys, however, were a different story. There were still wild turkeys who managed to live outside the commercial system. Mack and Jack were not among them. Both had been raised domestically and hadn't developed the skills to live in the wild. Mack had been raised with other heritage turkeys to sell for Thanksgiving dinner. But he'd been sick at harvest time and so was rejected as a food item. A worker at the farm had taken him home rather than see him slaughtered and discarded. Realizing they couldn't care for a turkey, they'd brought Mack to Pig Bottom Farm. Jack had been raised as a yard pet but was handed over to Eddie when his owner died.
They were both beautiful birds. Mack was a Narragansett turkey, and he looked like he belonged in a Norman Rockwell painting. He had a huge fan of a tail in brown and white and his head was regal with a red waddle and turquoise around his eyes. Jack was a Royal Palm, and his elaborate plumage could rival a peacock’s with his black-and-white striped fluffy breast, back, and tail.
They were an unlikely pair. Normally male birds didn't get along and would compete for females and food, even battling to injury or death. But Mack and Jack, the only turkeys on the farm, had bonded and were never more than four feet apart. Jon had the fanciful idea that they represented Samuel and Eddie and maybe Pig Bottom Farm in general. A refuge for perpetual bachelors .
Or maybe he was just an idiot.
Jon picked up Mack, careful to be sure his feathers were closed and wouldn't be damaged, and Elijah grabbed Jack. They carried them from the chicken yard to the pig barn. Mack and Jack had been through this before and didn't seem unduly alarmed. Within minutes, the birds were safe in the small pen Jon had prepared.
Elijah and Jon stood watching them as they strutted around, checking out their new digs. They quickly discovered the grain Jon had put in a bowl and set about pecking at it.
"They can fly over this fencin'," Elijah said.
"They could, but they don't. They don't wanna get in with the pigs. Trust me."
Elijah considered this. He scratched his ear.
Jon cleared his throat. "Could you make some more of that remedy for Joy?"
Elijah blinked a few times. "Why?"
"'Cause I used up what you made before."
"You did? You used it?" He seemed genuinely shocked.
Jon shrugged. "Aunt Jolie said those plants'd be beneficial. And Melanie's not gonna prescribe anythin' until that monitor test is done. I've been addin' a bit of the stuff you made to Joy's feed, and it seems to perk her up. Only now I'm almost out."
Elijah didn't take the news the way Jon expected, with excitement and that light in his eyes. Instead, his face shuttered over. "I can't. Samuel doesn't want me doin' braucherei."
"I'll talk to Samuel."
"No! I—" He swallowed. "I don't want him seein' me that way. Anyhow, I said I wouldn't do it anymore. So I can't. Sorry."
Jon was perplexed. He wanted to argue that Joy seemed to be benefiting from it, and what was the big deal? But Elijah muttered something about needing to wash up, and he took off like something was chasing him.
Damn, try to do something nice… that kid was more complicated than a pile of knots.
So it was a good thing Jon didn't really care.