Tender Mercies (Men of Lancaster Counter Book 2) Read online

  The man at the gas station gave him directions to Cloverleaf Road. It was clear on the other side of town. And then once Samuel found the road, the number he’d been given was another thirty-minute walk from the junction.

  The sky grew grayer and the wind more fierce. By the time Samuel reached the driveway that had the right number on a black mailbox, it was early dusk, probably after five o’clock, and he’d walked a good nine or ten miles. His foot, hip, and spine hurt as they always did when he walked a long way. His back was one big throbbing shank of flesh. There was moisture there too inside his coat, which felt sticky, more like blood than sweat. His stomach clenched emptily, his throat was parched, and all he wanted was to sit and rest for a spell. But he didn’t want to arrive at the farm after dark—that was rude. He needed this job.

  He stood at the end of the driveway, nervous as a bridegroom outside a church. He took off his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. Its blond shanks had grown long and needed a cut. He wiped over his face with a handkerchief and dusted off his black pants and jacket. It occurred to him it was a long walk back to the shelter, and it would be dark soon , and colder once the sun sank. It was a disheartening thought, but goodness’s sake, being cold, or even having his leg and back ache, wouldn’t kill him. It was what it was; no use being a baby about it. He thrust the thought from his mind—take one trouble at a time—and walked up the driveway.

  The farmhouse was nicely situated down a long driveway, out of sight of the road. Beyond the classic fieldstone house was a huge old bank barn with peeling white paint, a silo, and a large pasture off the back. A flat field ran for acres to the left of the driveway on the other side of a white fence. It was planted with new alfalfa. That was prime cropland right there. And to the right of the farmhouse, down a hill, he could see a large pond.

  The bones of the farm were wonderful, yet Samuel’s keen eyes could see the start of serious neglect. There was lots of fancy lawn around the farmhouse that needing mowing. There were limbs down from winter storms, which would kill the grass beneath their dead limbs if they weren’t cleared real quick. Yellow daffodils, planted long ago, dipped their heads against the cold next to weeds that were strongly coming on. Samuel wondered what the barn and pasture looked like up close and what livestock the farmer kept. It didn’t look like a dairy, but it was hard to be sure.

  He reached the front door of the house, wondered for a moment if he oughtn’t better knock at the back, but decided to hold his ground. He took his hat off, stiffened his spine despite the pain, and rang the bell.

  It was almost 5:00 p.m. when the doorbell rang. Eddie walked toward it with his mouth pressed in a grimace. He’d had dozens of phone calls about the help wanted ad since it appeared in the paper two days ago, a crazy amount of interest. His phone had rung off the hook to the point where he just stopped answering his phone for most of the day, trying to get some writing done. This would be the third person to actually come by.

  So far it had been a monumental waste of time. He’d had teenagers looking for part-time work they could squeeze in after school. No, that’s not what this position is. He’d fielded off a number of people interested in a second job that paid cash rather than room and board, as if they could talk him around from what the ad stated. One unfortunate older lady seemed desperate for work, but she had her own home and clearly wasn’t physically up to the job.

  Eddie was the world’s biggest softie, and he hated having to judge people and tell them no . It was weirdly like joining a really bad dating service. But he knew if he failed in this one important thing, hiring the one and only employee of Meadow Lake Farm, he might as well pack it all up now. He needed serious help, and he needed to find that one person who could supply it and be happy with the room and board he had to offer in return. On top of all that, he needed someone he could bear to have living in his personal space, someone who wouldn’t be secretly plotting how to get rid of Eddie’s body and take over the farm.

  He forced a pleasant smile as he opened the front door to the latest applicant. Then he blinked.

  Standing on the steps in front of the door was a young man wearing black pants, white shirt, suspenders, a short black wool jacket, and a black hat he held clutched in large hands. Amish. He was probably no more than twenty years old, and he had a shy demeanor, his shoulders curling forward slightly as if he longed to hide himself away. His dirty-blond hair was long in that bowl-cut way the Amish wore, hanging limp around his chin and tucked behind his ears. It needed to be washed. His face had large, angular features, almost too large for his body, with a prominent jaw and cheekbones and full lips. His eyes were close-set and brown, and he couldn’t hold Eddie’s gaze, instead looking somewhere around his chin.

  “Hi, can I help you?” Eddie asked. For some reason, his heart was going a mile a minute.

  The young man twisted his hat in his hands. “Hello. My name is Samuel Miller. I called yous on the phone a few hours ago. I’m here about the farmhand job what you had in the paper.”

  Eddie smiled, charmed by the quaint words and shy voice. “Ah. Yes. Hello.”

  “I’d like to apply for the job if it ain’t taken already.”

  A gust of wind whipped through the door, making Eddie shiver. He saw Samuel Miller shiver too. It was windy today despite the bright sunlight, a gusty kind of wind that came at you with a vengeance over the open fields, unlike anything he was used to in Manhattan.

  “Why don’t you come in? It’s cold today, isn’t it?”

  Eddie glanced around for a car, but there was no trace of a vehicle or even a bike in the lonely driveway. He stepped back to allow the stranger to enter. Samuel did, coming up the single step and then in through the door with a lurch. Eddie tried not to stare, but his heart sank. Samuel had a clubfoot. It appeared to be twisted inward, probably a birth defect. He limped badly on an oversized black ugly-as-sin shoe with a good two-inch sole. His left shoulder swung down with each step he took.

  Eddie felt a wave of pity but also disappointment. For a moment there, Eddie was hopeful. Samuel appeared to be a nice, quiet young man, and, being Amish, he probably knew farmwork. But with a handicap like that, he wouldn’t be very capable. Eddie’s mouth went dry and he rubbed at his breastbone absently. He’d have to tell this man no. He felt guilty, but there was nothing for it. He needed a worker who could do it all, and he couldn’t relent on that point, no matter how sorry he felt for the guy. Maybe he could tell Samuel he’d made an offer to another man and was waiting to hear back. Sometimes a lie was kinder than the truth.

  In the front room, Samuel turned and gave Eddie a brief smile, but his demeanor was a serious one, and his expression turned grave. He was very pale and had purple circles under his eyes. He didn’t look well.

  “I’m a gut worker. Grew up on a farm, and I’ve done every job there is to do on one. I don’t mind workin’ hard.”

  “Is that right?” Eddie cleared his throat. God. “So… this is a very labor-intensive job,” he hedged. “You might not be interested. The position includes mucking out barn stalls, feeding the animals, fixing fences, and a ton of yard work. There’s a riding mower, but it’s old, and there’s a lot of trimming and garden beds. I’ve been told I should mow the pasture for hay, and there’s an old tractor in the barn with various attachments, but I don’t know how to run it.”

  It occurred to Eddie after he said it that an Amish man wouldn’t know how to run a tractor either. It was yet another reason he shouldn’t hire Samuel.

  As if reading his mind, Samuel spoke up. “I know a little ’bout engines. We had a generator and a motor for the milk cooler. They was old and took lots of upkeep. Oil and filters and sometimes cleaning out the gears and stuff too. I could always get the genny runnin’.”

  “Oh. Okay. Um… the job entails a lot of physical labor, though.” His gaze dropped to Samuel’s foot unwittingly. It was only for a second, but Samuel stiffened instantly.

  His knuckles whitened on his hat, and he furr
owed his brow. His voice was firm. “I’m used to real hard work. On my da’s farm, I did all the muckin’ and feedin’ and hayin’ and all that. I can repair fences, raise a garden, sand and paint, anything else you need. My foot’s no bother, usually. It’s only that I just walked a long ways to get here, so my limp’s actin’ up. But on a normal day, it’s no problem. I can do any task you give me. I’m right strong. I promise you that.”

  Eddie felt ashamed and embarrassed. “I’m sure you can.”

  And looking over Samuel again, Eddie thought that was probably true. His hands were large, with roughened skin, the palms thick with muscle as if he did hard labor with them every day. He was also quite lean, with broad shoulders. He hardly looked like a couch potato. In all likelihood he was strong despite having grown up with a disability. Or maybe because of it.

  Eddie met Samuel’s eyes again. This time Samuel held his gaze. He seemed determined. There was a glint of what might be desperation in his eyes.

  Eddie found that he appreciated that sense of certainty. One of them ought to be sure. He sighed. “Why don’t you come in the kitchen and have a cup of coffee or tea, and we can talk about it. If you walked here, you must be cold.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “My name’s Eddie. Eddie Graber.” He held out his hand.

  Samuel took it immediately. Yeah, shit, the guy had strong hands. He didn’t crush Eddie’s hand in his, but he could. “All right, Mr. Graber.”

  “Call me Eddie, please. No one calls me ‘Mister.’”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you like coffee?”

  “Yes, sir. Eddie. A cup of coffee would hit the spot. It is a little chilly out there.”

  Eddie smiled at the understatement and the accent. Samuel’s “there” sounded more like “dar.” He led the way to the kitchen. Samuel’s foot made a clumping noise on the hardwood floors that made Eddie’s heart hurt again.

  He waved to a stool at the kitchen island, and Samuel sat down. Eddie made two cups of coffee using the K-cup maker. He put them on the island along with a bowl of raw sugar and a pint of almond milk. He also set out some oatmeal cookies he’d made earlier. Samuel helped himself to all of it, pouring milk and sugar in his coffee, then eating a cookie carefully, as if conscious of being watched.

  Wow. The guy had amazing bones, Eddie thought, getting a better look at his face in the fading daylight from the window. His cheekbones were wide and nearly formed a square box with the broad and well-defined jaw below. He had such large features too. He reminded Eddie of a puppy with oversized paws, like he hadn’t quite grown into himself yet. It wasn’t an unattractive look. Quite the opposite—he was lovely—in a fresh and wholesome sort of way. He had Germanic heritage, probably. Weren’t Amish German?

  These were strictly objective observations, disconnected from any personal interest, Eddie assured himself. Samuel was way too young to think about that way, even if he weren’t Amish, which he was. Eddie didn’t know a ton about the Amish, but he knew they were intensely religious and shunned modern technology. Eddie, on the other hand, was liberal to his core, and he loved his gadgets. They were oil and water. Even Samuel’s manner of speaking placed him in an entirely different social stratum . Of course, they didn’t have to agree philosophically for Samuel to work here. They didn’t even have to be friends. What Eddie needed was a strong back, a tolerance for manual labor, and knowledge of how a farm was supposed to run.

  But as Eddie snuck glances at Samuel, he also saw his complexion was pasty and gray. He looked tired. Was he sick? Something serious? Once again Eddie’s doubts intensified.

  “I’m afraid the offer in the paper is firm,” Eddie hedged. “I live alone in this big house, so you’d have a private room and bath, plus meals. But the cash is only fifty a week. It’s not much.”

  “That’s all right,” Samuel said calmly, picking up the cup of coffee. His brown eyes met Eddie’s briefly. “I need a place to stay, so that’s worth a lot to me.”

  “I see.”

  Samuel drank his coffee steadily, holding the cup in both large hands. He fixed his gaze out the window. “Grass needs mowin’ right away.”

  Eddie scratched his head. “Yeah. It’s been on my list. But I work a lot.”

  “Tomorrow’d be a good day for it. You don’t want to do it when the grass is wet, and we ain’t had rain since Sunday.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow,” Samuel said, almost to himself.

  Eddie stood there feeling discomforted, as if he’d found himself driving on the wrong side of the road. Samuel was talking like this was going to happen. But Eddie hadn’t made that decision yet. Yes, he felt sympathetic toward this curious young man. He tugged at Eddie’s large and easily played heartstrings. But even besides the questions about Samuel’s abilities, did Eddie want an Amish man living in his house? Would the man pray? Read his Bible at the table? Would he freak out when he figured out Eddie was queer?

  Eddie was a Jewish, agnostic, liberal-assed homosexual. It sounded like a recipe for disaster. Or an episode of Big Brother .

  Yet Eddie already felt unable to tell the young man to just leave. Holy hell, the guy walked here.

  Eddie scratched his neck. “So. I guess I should tell you more about this. See, I’m opening a farm sanctuary. Currently I’ve got two cows and three sheep, but eventually there will be a lot more animals around.”

  Samuel turned to look at him, his face blank.

  “And, um, along with the whole farm sanctuary thing, I’m vegan. So the meals I serve will be vegan. Lots of rice and pasta and bean stews. Bread. Things like that. I like sweet things too. But no meat.”

  That got a reaction. “No meat?” Samuel looked confused.

  “No, I’m vegan,” Eddie repeated patiently. “Now I don’t care what you eat when you’re not here. If you want to go out and get a Big Mac or whatever, that’s your business. But I do ask that you not keep or eat meat down here in the kitchen. After all, this is a sanctuary. If you want to have some beef jerky or something in your room, or even have a mini fridge up there, well, that’s up to you.”

  Samuel continued to stare at him doubtfully but said nothing.

  Eddie let out a tense breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and sipped his own coffee. “If that’s a deal-breaker for you, I understand. After all, meals are part of your pay.”

  Samuel looked at the plate of cookies, took another one, and bit into it thoughtfully, as if considering its quality. “Guess I can do without meat if there’s bread and cookies and such like.”

  Eddie couldn’t help but smile at Samuel’s serious tone. “There’s definitely bread and cookies.”

  “All right, then.” Samuel met Eddie’s eyes and gave him a small, tentative smile.

  There was something so hopeful in it, so sweet. It absolutely swept Eddie’s metaphorical legs out from under him. Shit. He rubbed at his sternum to ease the sudden ache. “Well…,” he said gruffly, sighed. “If you’re still interested, I guess we could give it a trial run. Maybe for a week? Just to see if it works out, though. I can’t promise anything.”

  “Thank you,” Samuel said, his smile widening. “You won’t be sorry.”

  Eddie blew out a breath, hoping he wouldn’t regret this. “Okay. So. Would you like to see the room?”

  “Yes, please. Eddie.”

  “This way.”

  Eddie had already decided he’d put the hired hand in the room at the back of the house, the one right above the kitchen. For one thing, it was as far away from his own room as it was possible to get in the house, and its window faced the barn and pasture in case the hired hand wanted to look out and check on the animals. It had its own small bathroom with a shower too. Instead of taking the main stairs up, Eddie showed Samuel the pocket staircase at the back of the kitchen, where an old set of narrow stairs turned at a sharp angle between two walls. Samuel clumped up after him.

  At the top of the stairs was a small landing with three
doors. “Here’s the room,” Eddie said, opening a door. It was a very small room with a double bed, already made up, a dresser Eddie had picked up at a thrift store, a little chair, and a narrow closet with empty hangers. Samuel looked inside, taking everything in without comment.

  “And here’s the bathroom with a toilet and shower. You’ll have it to yourself.” Eddie opened up one of the other doors.

  Samuel peeked in there too. “Is there hot water?”

  Eddie smiled. “Well, yeah. As much as you like, actually. There’s a big tank, and it’ll only be you and me here.”

  Samuel looked at him oddly. “You don’t have a wife and kids?”

  For a moment Eddie considered telling Samuel he was a gay man. But the guy had enough to absorb with the vegan thing. And it wasn’t really any of Samuel’s business. It wasn’t like Eddie planned to bring guys back to the farm.

  No, after Alex, he was off men for the foreseeable future. And if he ever did get on Grindr or something… well, he’d deal with it then.

  “No, I’m not married. So. That’s all there is to see. This other door leads to the front bedrooms. You shouldn’t need to go into that part of the house.”

  Samuel nodded in agreement, and Eddie led the way back down the stairs. The kitchen was a recent addition to the original old stone farmhouse, and there were large windows on two walls. Outside the day had turned a soft gold as the sun kissed the sky good night .

  Samuel looked out the window, biting his lip. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his eyes tight, and he swayed slightly on his feet. He looked exhausted.

  Eddied hurried to wrap it up so Samuel could go home. “So… when do you want to start your trial week?”

  “Right away?” Samuel suggested, glancing at him hopefully.

  “Okay.” Eddie nodded. There were certainly a million things that needed to get done. “Do you want to come back tomorrow morning, then? Or later this week?”