“Hey,” he said with that smile of his, all dimpled and sweet. “Jasper wants your help scything again. Said you did a good job last time.”
“Did he?” Jamie asked, trying to be interested in maybe feeling a little bit good about himself because somebody he didn’t really know very well liked his work. “Cause I was thinking about catching that Greyhound bus at three.”
The pain of that idea kicked him as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
“When does Maddy hand out the checks tomorrow?” he asked, taking a large swallow of bitter coffee, like he was an important man and all in a rush to make things happen for himself.
“Usually around ten,” said Clay. “Though most have direct deposit. You know.”
He knew all about it. Knew how direct deposit worked. Knew that you had to have a bank account, and a routing number, and all of that. He didn’t have that, so a paper check it would be. Then he’d go to the bank in town without a driver’s license and beg them to cash it for him. Such a little thing, an expired license, to cause him so much trouble.
“Sure,” he said, smoothing his features and nodding in agreement, like he’d be the happiest guy on the planet to work out in the hot sun, scything grass, getting heatstroke again.
This time, Leland wouldn’t care enough to rescue him, so he’d have to look out for himself. Take those breaks. Drink the water. Wear his hat. The one Leland had given him and said looked good on him. Feeling gears shifting in his head, small bits of lightning jumping in his belly, Jamie sat up. “When?” he asked. “When does Jasper need me?”
“After breakfast,” said Clay. “He’ll really appreciate the help. But—are you okay?”
When he’d bumped into Clay the night before, he’d told Clay he was leaving. Now, though, he’d signed up for work that would keep him around.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll work today, pick up my check tomorrow. It’s all good.”
With that, Jamie got up, bussed his tray, grabbed his straw hat from the peg along the wall, and headed down the road and along the path around a small hill to where Jasper’s cabin was.
Jasper had a pretty good setup, though Jamie didn’t really know why he was off by himself. Maybe because he was grumpy, which he sure was when Jamie knocked on his front door. Jasper came out of his workshop, a small building to the side of the cabin, wiping his hands on a cloth and frowning at Jamie like he’d interrupted him in some great and dangerous experiment.
“Here,” he said, pointing to the scythe leaning up against the wall of the shed. “Need you to cut the grass along the creek.”
Jasper went back into his shed, leaving Jamie blinking, standing there holding the scythe like some sort of newbie grim reaper who hasn’t been handed his hooded black cloak yet. But he went to work, going down to the creek, eyeing the long rows of grasses, which had grown tall in such a short while, green-tinged from the recent rain.
It was a big job, and it occurred to Jamie to wonder why they didn’t just get a weed whacker or something. But maybe that would be too noisy. What did it matter to him, anyway? He wasn’t likely to be sticking around long enough to put his stupid suggestion in the suggestion box.
He scythed that grass for a good hour before Jasper came out with water and wordlessly handed it to Jamie. Jamie tipped his hat back, and took large swallows of the water, breathing in the fresh, newly cut grass smells rising in the warm air all around him.
He’d never smelled a place as nice as this. Never felt this way, his shoulders sore from the work, knowing he’d had another hour or so of work and then he could have lunch in a nice, clean dining room. Maybe he was the lowest guy on the totem pole, but he wouldn’t be forever if he stuck around.
But that would mean having to deal with Leland and all those feelings that were swirling around inside of him, making him want to crumple in a small ball, hiding in the grass like a newborn faun. Which he was not, and nobody was coming to save him.
He put the empty bottle on a rock so he could recycle it later, and started swinging at the grass, all the while ignoring the ache in his heart. Swing, scythe, lift, step up.
Over and over, he did this, focusing on the way his arms hurt, and not on how much he longed to go back to that moment, the two of them riding double up the main road of the ranch. The two of them working together, painting that shed. The two of them in Leland’s bed, their skins warm, Jamie’s heart racing when Leland kissed him.
The ranch had given him such a sense of belonging, of purpose. Something he’d not felt since he’d been at community college. But even then, he had never imagined his life might look like this, that cutting long grasses with a completely outdated and heavy farm tool would give him such a sense of satisfaction as he stepped back, his arm on the rake, and looked at his progress.
“You might be a chain maker,” said a voice from behind him.
Leland.
Jamie turned around, holding the scythe in front of him like a barrier, a weapon of very small destruction.
Leland was so strong and so tall, he could have taken the scythe away from Jamie in a heartbeat. But he didn’t. He didn’t come any closer, just stood amidst freshly cut grass, sprinkles of grass blades on his dark blue jeans.
He held his hat in his hands and let the sunshine beat down on him. He was such a stickler for avoiding sunburn that Jamie was worried about him getting one, and yeah, his cheeks were pink. Jamie had no idea what he was doing there, so he leaned harder on the rake and just looked at him.
“A chain maker,” Leland said in that quiet, patient tone Jamie had grown so fond of, on account of Leland was so handsome when he was like this, plus Jamie knew he was on the edge of learning something new. “Is someone who likes to work and to see the results of that work spreading out like a long chain behind them.”
“Like painting a building,” Jamie said before he could stop himself. He visualized it quite hard, just then, him and Leland over at the rebuild of John Henton’s cabin, stepping back and measuring their progress with their eyes. And then, in tandem, looking at each other and smiling. “I guess you’re one, too,” he said, again almost without any free will at all.
“That I am,” Leland said.
