Two Sides of the Same Coin (46 page)

“Read this, it will explain things to you.” I made a decision then. Mary Grace was a genuinely nice and gentle person. If she was offering help, we’d accept.

“When?”

“It’ll be after the Halloween dance. Like I said, we call Halloween Samhain.” She pronounced it “Sow-in.”

“Thanks, Mary Grace; is there anything we need to do or bring?”

“Just an open mind.”

“Great. I reckon you’ll find we both are pretty open-minded.”

“I know that; I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you just do a spell for us and not tell us?”

“We believe it’s wrong to do anything to or for you without your permission.”

“That’s interestin’.”

“If you have any questions about the book, please let me know.”

“I sure will, Mary Grace.” We said our goodbyes and headed out onto the street. The bakery was just around the corner. Most of the way was covered, but we had to cross the street. It was still sleeting.

“Mike, buddy, after we get the bread and pie, we probably should head back. I don’t know if the roads are gonna be slippery or not.”

“Good idea. We came close enough to goin’ off the road the other night.” We walked into Rick’s Bakery. I could smell fresh bread and pies. There was also the smell of coffee. It was warm inside; it felt nice and cozy. Rick came out from the back.

“Hey, guys! How are you two doing?”

“Fine, Rick, how about you?”

“Pretty good. Did you see Mary Grace?”

“We just came from the co-op. Why?”

“I just wondered if she’d talked to you about after the Halloween dance.”

“You mean her castin’ a spell to protect us on Samhain?” Mike said, and Rick looked at him.

“I guess she did then. Are you two okay with it?”

“I reckon we can use all the help we can get.” I smiled at him.

“I am really glad to hear that. Let me get you guys some coffee.” I looked at Mike. He nodded. My truck has four-wheel drive all the time, and Mike can put his truck into four-wheel drive, so I reckoned we’d be fine to stay a little longer.

“That’d be great, Rick. What kinda pies do ya have today?”

“Apple, pumpkin, peach, and lemon meringue, can I get you a slice of pie?”

“How about an apple for me. Mike?”

“I’ll have apple too. Peach pie okay, Jeffy?”

“Rick, how about a peach pie to go and a couple of loaves of bread, one of your sourdoughs and one of pumpernickel.”

“Sounds good, guys. Have a seat and I’ll have your coffee and pie out in two shakes.”

“I reckon he’s one of Mary Grace’s group.” Mike looked at me.

“Well, buddy, they’re both good folks. I’d rather put my faith in them than some sorry piece of shit like Spencer.”

“Or my old man.”

“I hear ya, buddy.” Rick came out with a tray with two cups of coffee and two huge slices of apple pie.

“Here you go, guys, enjoy!” He’d made the coffee extra strong, and the pie was great. It tasted of fresh apples, cinnamon, and a touch of nutmeg, with butter in the crust.

“Rick, the pie is delicious.”

“Thanks, Jeff. Just remember, when you get lots of tourists, you can direct then here.”

“You got it. You know the recommendation will be good.”

“Thanks!” I looked out the window. It didn’t look like any sleet was staying on the ground. It seemed to be melting off the road. The ranch was a good five hundred feet higher than Winslett though, so you never know. Around here, elevation really makes the difference. We finished our pie and coffee and headed back to our trucks. I had an idea and thought I’d mention it to Mike.

“Hey, buddy, let’s stop by the ranger station and see if we can get a permit to cut a Christmas tree on national forest land.”

“You think it might be too early?”

“Dunno, bud. We’re here. It won’t hurt to check.”

We walked over to the ranger station and went in. Mark, the guy who’d given us the hunting permits, was manning the desk.

“Howdy, Mark. How ya doin’?” I extended my hand, and Mike followed my lead.

“Hey there, Jeff, Mike, nice to see you guys. What can I do for you?” He smiled a welcome. I really noticed him for the first time. He had a plain open face, unruly brown hair, and a stocky build. He must’ve been about thirty. Although my first impression of him hadn’t been the greatest, he seemed to be trying awful hard to rectify that.

“We wanted to see about gettin’ a permit to cut a Christmas tree.”

“We start giving ’em out November first. One permit entitles you to cut one tree.”

“Okay then, Mark, I reckon we’ll be back on the first.” He looked at both of us for a second.

“I hear you’re going to start taking in tourists at your ranch?”

“Yep, news sure does travel fast around here don’t it, Mike?”

“That’s for sure.”

“Reason why I asked is I’ve never seen a working ranch before. I was, um… wondering if I could come out sometime and take a look. That is if it’s no problem.”

“No problem at all, Mark. When do you wanna come out?”

“How about I bring your Christmas tree permit on the first after work; I get off at five o’clock.”

“Sounds good to me. Since you’re drivin’ out at dinner time, how ’bout stayin’ for a bite to eat?”

“Great! I don’t want to put you through no trouble.”

“None at all. I’ll let you in on a little secret: we gotta eat, too, so we’re bound to have food.” He laughed.

“How about I bring the beer?”

“Now you’re talkin’. We’ll see ya about five-thirty or so on the first.” We shook hands and left.

I headed out first, and Mike followed me. The roads were clear, so our worrying had been for nothing, but you never know. I remember my dad saying he’d seen snow each and every month of the year. We were pretty far north, so that really didn’t surprise me; this winter was looking to be cold. I was hoping we’d get lots of snow. It would be good for tourism, and I loved to cross country ski. Mike really hadn’t been, but I was looking forward to gettin’ him out on the trails. The valley has an incredible set of cross country ski trails for all levels and abilities. I liked to ski from the ranch to Winslett, have lunch, and ski back, but I only did that after skiing a bit and getting my legs in shape. We got back to the ranch and headed up the drive. It was nice to be home. I knew I had to read my dad’s letter, but for some strange reason wasn’t really excited about it. I reckoned we could have our workout and then eat dinner before I sat down to read the letter. We changed into our workout clothes. I suggested to Mike we do an upper body workout, and then spend time on the cross country machine and rowing machine. He was game. We went through the workout and then alternated time on the machines. We did fifteen minute intervals until we had done an hour on each machine.

“Hey, buddy, how about we relax in the hot tub?”

“Sounds great to me.”

We went upstairs, stripped down, and rinsed off in the shower. I had to laugh when we were undressing since Mike and me were so focused on watching each other.

“Jeffy, can I ask a favor?”

“What ya need, buddy?”

“I was wonderin’ if maybe instead of getting dressed in sweats or jeans, we could just hang around in our long handles and socks tonight.”

“From that request, I reckon I’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

“I reckon you are, too, if ya answer yes.”

“You think I’d say no to you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Sounds like a plan, buddy; now let’s get in the hot tub.” We headed downstairs and grabbed some towels. We went into the hot tub area. It was really cold; when I took the cover off the hot tub, the steam was heavy and thick. Luckily, the sleet had stopped. We got into the hot water pretty quick. Mike scooted right over next to me.

“What do I owe all this cuddlin’ and affection to?”

“I guess I’m feelin’ a bit insecure.”

“Why? Did I do or say somethin’ to make you feel that way?”

“No, not at all, Jeff. It’s just you’re so special and damn near perfect, and I’m kind of a loser. I mean, look at how handsome you are, friendly, outgoin’; you’re rich, and I feel like some loser hangin’ on to your coat tails.”

“Mike, look at me. I’ve always had friends, and I’ve had boyfriends in the past. But I’ve never had a best friend who is my partner. Someone I can rope and ride with, throw a football with, hunt with, and work out with. What did we do this mornin’?”

“We played.”

“Let me put that a different way. We made love. Now what specifically did we do?”

“Fucked.”

“Who fucked who?”

“I fucked you.”

“Do ya remember me sayin’ fuckin’ is a commitment thing to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Buddy, I’m committed to you. You’re my partner, my best friend. I wanna grow old with you. It don’t matter to me one bit that you didn’t go to college. Mike, if you don’t understand how I feel about you and just how special I think you are, I don’t know if I can explain it.” He continued lookin’ in my eyes.

“Mike, buddy, you enrich my life more than money ever could. Can you get that through that cute but thick head of yours?”

“I’m sorry, Jeff, I guess sometimes I just let my fears and self-doubts get the best of me.”

“Stop it, or I’m gonna have to put ya over my knee and blister that sweet ass of yours. Besides, I ain’t perfect. I’m too cocky, and I’m allergic to kryptonite.” I hugged him.

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“Don’t mention it.” I grabbed his hand and held it. We sat and enjoyed the hot water in a comfortable silence. We finally got out of the hot water and sat on the deck a couple of minutes to cool down. We dried off and headed upstairs. I walked into the bedroom and grabbed Mike’s black athletic socks. I put them on and reached over for his red long handles. He just stared at me. I pulled the long johns on and buttoned them about halfway up.

“Get that pretty ass of yours dressed. There’s my gear. Wear it.” I pointed to my crew socks and gray union suit. He gave me a big grin and reached for my socks. I could see he was hard.

“You’re somethin’ else, Jeffy. Reckon I’m the luckiest man alive to be with you.”

“No, you’re tied for luckiest, with me.” We shared a long hug and deep kiss. I winked at him. “Buddy, get that sweet ass of yours downstairs. You’re peelin’ the potatoes.”

We both laughed and headed downstairs.

I put out candles for dinner again. I had it bad. I just wanted to make things real nice for Mike. It worked out well; in doing that, I made things nice for me too. We decided on beer with the pot roast. Both of us like it better than wine. As we sat down to eat, Mike raised his beer mug.

“To us.”

“To us!” We grinned at each other. He sure was easy on the eyes.

“Ya like the pot roast?”

“It’s great. I wasn’t sure when you said you was cookin’ it in beer, but it tastes delicious. I like the garlic in the mashed potatoes too.”

“You happy then?”

“Happy as a cow with cud.”

“Good, ’cause I like makin’ you happy.” We had a big piece of pie each and then cleaned up. Mike had set a fire in the fireplace, and I lit it as we moved into the living room. I wanted to read my dad’s letter, but I was a bit nervous. I really didn’t know why. We sat down on the couch. I drew my feet up and lounged in the corner; Mike lay down with his head in my lap. I had the envelope and letter with me. I opened it and began to read.

Jeff,

I have so many things to say to you, and I’m

not there to say them. I started writing these

letters when your mom died. There were many

things I wanted to tell her, but couldn’t. So every

six months I update this letter.

First of all, son, I’m proud of you; I have to

admire the way you’ve worked for everything

you’ve accomplished. You have a great talent

with your sculptures; please keep at it. I know without

a doubt you’ll be very successful some day.

I love you, too, son. I know I might not have

said it enough, or even much at all, but I

hope you know that I love you more than

life itself. I’ve seen you grow from a little

boy to a fine young man. When you told

me about your sexuality when you were sixteen,

I was a bit concerned. I figured you’d chosen a

real hard row to hoe. Since then, I’ve read enough

to know it’s not a choice and you’re the way God made you.

The fact you faced that tough row head on without

fear or hiding makes me proud. It takes a real man to do that.

A small town isn’t the easiest place to be different, but

you’ve been true to yourself and commanded respect here.

I hope you realize, son, that this is your home.

I have to wonder if you’re really happy in the city;

it seems to go against who you are. I hope you

consider coming back here. I told the sheriff the other

day that you’re like a wolf, and you can’t cage a wolf.

I also hope you’re happy with your friend, Robert.

Forgive me my advice, son, but I’m telling you this

man to man because I care about you.

Whatever you decide about anything, know

that you have, and always have had, my full support.

I’m pretty sure, son, you’ll end up back here. If so,

I have a favor to ask.

A while ago I hired a cowboy named Mike.

He’s a good man. What he’s been through

in his young life is a nightmare. I’ll leave it up to him

to tell you. Despite his horrific teenage years,

there’s a good, strong man there. In fact,

son, in a lot of ways he reminds me of you,

a hurt and less confident you.

I hope the two of you will become friends.

The two of you are enough

alike, I can see the two of you as thick as thieves.

Just treat him gently. There’s a lot of hurt there.

I do know you, son, and I know you can help him.

I’ve told him quite a bit about you.

If you’re reading this, then I didn’t live to see the two of you meet.

You know the ranch and everything will be yours.

I’ve left you enough that you’re going to be