The Farmer's Son

Chapter 61 The Farmer's Son

Temperatures had dropped somewhat after the storm, but heat still radiated up from the streets and parked cars of the town, even this early in the morning. Various shops had shattered glass windows, outdoor furniture has been tossed around, and a few telephone poles were down, but all in all, the town had come through the tornado unharmed.

What was usually a ten minute drive took twenty, as Ray coasted the tan truck down main street, slowing down to chat with folks, to let them check up on him, and for him to check on them. He made one last stop at Sal's, finding the old guy banging a dent out of his metal shutters, then crossed the street to Maeve's dinner. The big glass windows out front were gone, the hole boarded up with plywood, but the OPEN sign hung in the door.

Ray opened the door, setting the little bell above jangling. Inside, Maeve was behind the counter in her uniform and full face of makeup, coffee pot in hand, a comforting sight that made Ray smile. There were a handful of men sitting at the counter, but when they spotted Ray, they instantly stood to leave, with last quick gulps of coffee and bites of pancakes.

As one passed Ray, pulling on his hat, he glanced back into the dinner with a grave, pitying look on his face, then patted Ray on the shoulder and hastened out with the others, leaving Ray confused and perturbed.

"Good to see you in one piece, hon," Meave said with a smile, pouring him a cup of coffee. "Thanks for coming. I know you got your hands full with your own place now."

"I'll always come when you call," Ray said with a smile. "Mack can take care of the farm, so I'm all yours."

She smiled again, this time with regret. "You're a good boy," she said. "If God had blessed me with a son, I'd have wanted one like you." She glanced towards the back of the diner. "Well, I'll leave you boys to it."

Setting the coffee pot down, she went to the door and flipped the sign, then went into the kitchen. Ray followed her line of sight towards the back of the diner. To his surprise, he saw a figure sitting in one of the far corner booths, half in gloom. But Ray could still tell who it was.

Noah.

Brown eyes glinted from below furrowed brows as they met blue, the shaven face as serious as Ray had ever seen it. Then Ray's gaze fell to the table in front of Noah. On it was a cup of steaming coffee—and a shotgun.

Now Ray knew why the others had left as quickly as they could.

"Take a seat," Noah said, his voice low and deep.

Heart pumping fast, Ray's mind whirled with all the things that could have made Noah angry like this, but they were all just circling one inevitability. By some deep instinctual feeling, Ray already knew what this was about. After a half second hesitation, he stepped away from the counter and slid opposite Noah in the booth, shotgun between them.

There was a beat of silence, then: "I saw you and Alan."

Ray's heart leapt into his throat.

"Behind the house, last night," Noah said gravely, stern gaze pinned to Ray. "Don't play dumb. We both know what I mean."

Swallowing down the choking lump, Ray coughed.

"Now, I got nothing against a man of a different nature," Noah continued, speaking slowly and steadily. "And I understand why you'd feel the need to hide that nature, specially in these parts. And if you had nothing else to do with me, I'd let it be. But you been living in my house, and mixing with my kin, and I'm the reason why."

Ray had done his best not to look away as Noah spoke, but his gaze kept darting away, feelings of guilt and deceit tightening his chest.

"So, it seems to me it's about time I knew the whole of you," Noah finished. "The man I met in this very diner more than a year ago and brought into our lives. You agree?"