The Farmer's Son

Chapter 17 It's a Date

The heatwave broke after two weeks of scorching temperatures and one minor wind event that knocked over a few power lines and trees. Noah had made them wait an extra day before he let them out of the house to check for damage, and the Walker men took to the fields, looking for scorched corn and uprooted irrigation pipes, while Ray took a turn around the perimeter for any broken fences. Thankfully, any damage proved minimal, and the farm resumed normal operations.

No one was happier about that than Ray. Noah had finally let him go back out to the garage, and he had bounded out like a dog let off his leash. Now the day he'd been waiting for had finally come.

With one last twist of the wrench, Ray dropped the tool into the box at his side, then began to pump the jack, lowering the truck back down on the ground with a gentle settling of metal. Shoving the jack and tools to the side, he stood and hopped up behind the wheel. With a deep breath, he turned the keys in the ignition.

The truck rumbled to life beautifully.

Ray gave a triumphant whoop and burst of excited laughter. Jumping out of the cab, he shut the door and stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the truck with a pleased smile. After many all-nighters, the lights of the garage visible through the kitchen window, she was ready for the road, and he already had her inaugural journey planned. Reaching out, he patted and rubbed the fresh coat of tan paint.

In the garden, Alan heard him before he saw him, loudly calling Alan's name before appearing and ducking under the white tarp.

"Is something on fire?" Alan asked, looking up from where he was kneeling beside a row of greenery.

"Only me," Ray said, without thinking, then laughed like a fool while Alan glanced at him with a bemused expression. Coming up beside Alan, he looked around at the flourishing plants "They're really coming along," he said, standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"In a few weeks we'll be able to pick some early harvest tomatoes," Alan said, packing a little more dirt around the root of a basil.

"You look pleased," Ray said, bending his head to look at Alan's proud face under his straw hat.

"I am," Alan said, smiling up at him. "Unlike the fields, which I've been doing since I was three, this is the first year I planted the whole garden by myself."

"I'm privileged, then, to be the first to taste your efforts," Ray said.

"That's what guinea pigs are for," Alan said, then laughed as Ray pushed him over with one knee. He held up a hand, and Ray clasped it.

"Hey," Ray said, pulling him up. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

"I was going to see Mrs. Geary with some herbs," Alan said, getting to his feet with a little hop from the strength of Ray's pull. "Why? You need something?"

"My truck is purring like a kitten, and I want to take it for a spin. I figured why not take you for a spin, too?"

Alan paused, lips parted and lashes fluttering at the bold expression, then gave a nervous laugh as he looked away. "That sounds like trouble if ever I heard it," he said, shaking his head and moving away as his ears turned pink.

"Come on," Ray said, turning to follow him into another row. "You know the area. Take me out."

"Now I'm taking you out?"

"I need to stretch my legs, blow off steam, whatever you want to call it. Please?"

Alan sighed, looking like a parent trying to decide if they should let their teen go out at night.