The Farmer's Son

Chapter 47 Auntly Duty Done

The smile fell from Alan's face and his eyes widened with both alarm and surprise as he looked at his aunt across the table. But he pulled himself together quickly, masking his emotions behind a serene face. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. Because what else could he say?

"Don't," Marge said, pointing her index finger at him. "You heard the stories about me in high school—I know what skipping out on family meals and being in the house, alone, at night, means."

Alan looked away from her sternness, gaze dropping to the table and shoulders turning inwards as he shifted in his seat. He could never hide anything from her, and usually he never wanted to.

Seeing at his timidity annoyed her even more than his denial, and Marge let out a sharp breath, closing her eyes and forcing herself to take deep breaths. "Okay," she said, calmer. "I'm sorry for yelling. But I can't help but be a little angry about—look at me, Alan."

Alan hesitated, but when she spoke like that, he couldn't ignore her. Reluctantly he lifted his gaze and met her fiery, glittery eyes.

"I can't help but be a little angry," Marge repeated deliberately, "about what you're doing to your Pa. First you take a job with the same people trying to run him—and everyone else you know—out of business. Now you're playing around in his house with—"

"I'm not playing around," Alan said bravely.

"Yeah?" Marge said. "What about Ray?"

"Neither is he," Alan said, with quiet certainty.

Marge's eyes narrowed, but Alan met her gaze with a clear, confident one of his own. Sitting back in the cramped seat, she crossed her arms. "Alright," she said. "Then I won't ask what's between you two—you're young, you can be attracted to whoever you want, and for most of the day it's just the two of you on the farm. I get it. That's not what I wanted to talk about anyway."

"It's not?" Alan asked, unconvinced.

"No," Marge said. "Beside my feelings about that, what I really wanted to do was warn you."

"About Pa?" Alan asked, looking away as his gut began to twist into a knot.

"About the folks around here."

He looked up at the unexpected answer, and found her looking more grave than ever.

"Not only for your sake, Alan, but for Ray's, too. They might be able to pretend they don't know for Noah's sake, Alan," Marge said, sitting forwards with her arms on the table, her voice low and intent. "Because you and he are one of them. But they won't be so forgiving towards Ray. They like him now because he does stuff for them, but give them a reason, and they'll turn on him like that."

She punctuated it with a snap of her fingers in his face that made him jump back, heart pounding in his chest.

"I don't object to you and Ray," Marge said, her voice still conspiratorially low. "Not that that should matter. But you both had best be careful. That kind of thing is more tolerated in cities, but only barely. Out here, the slightest difference can make anyone turn on you, even people you've known your whole life."

Alan's mind flitted to Joel, and the night he met Austin, his gut twisting at the memory. He swallowed. "It sounds like you're speaking from experience," he said quietly.

"Not a personal one," Marge said ominously. "But I've seen it," she added, looking down in memory. She gave a little shiver, then lifted her gaze back to his. "And so has your Pa."

Alan swallowed again. Leaning forwards on the table, he glanced towards the windows, then lowered his voice. "Ray said pretty much the same thing," he murmured. "He had a...bad experience at his last place. He wants to tell Pa, but he said we should be careful. It's still fairly new to us—well, to me."