Free A Second Harvest by Eli Easton

blessing was brief, thanking God for good neighbors and the wonderful food, which was actually very sweet. It was still strange. It had been years since Christie was at a table where prayers were said.
    They both dug in. David was enthusiastic. His eyes practically rolled back in his head as he tasted each dish, and Christie tried very hard not to think about his little moans of appreciation in another context.
    “You should open a restaurant. You have a gift. I can’t imagine even attempting complicated dishes like this.”
    “It’s really not that difficult,” Christie replied modestly, though he soaked up the praise like a sponge. “I just followed the recipes.”
    “That’s like a builder saying it’s not that hard to build a house if you have a blueprint.”
    “Maybe it’s not hard,” Christie smiled wryly.
    David wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Speaking of houses, you asked earlier about this addition. My father put it on when he discovered my mother was expecting me.”
    “Oh really? That sounds like a sweet family story.”
    “I guess. They didn’t think they could have children. My mom got pregnant with me when she was forty. And yes,” he said, smiling at Christie shyly, “the family story goes that my dad was so excited about it he expanded the house. Not that it was necessary, mind. I was one boy, not a new herd of cattle. Farmers tend to think big.”
    “Maybe it was his way of preparing for you emotionally. He must have doted on you.”
    “I wouldn’t say that.” David’s face grew carefully shuttered. “He was a tough man, my dad. Very strict.”
    “Mine too.” Christie decided neither one of them needed to talk about their childhood traumas, though it sounded like they had more in common than he’d thought. “So… you have children?”
    His eyes went to a framed photo on the wall. It was a professional family portrait, taken near the barn. The family of four wore lots of denim and red, like a matched set. Beside David there was a woman with dark hair pulled back severely and a pretty, chubby face. She wore a long denim dress over a red turtleneck There were two kids—a girl and a boy in their early and midteens. It was a good-looking family but very conservative Midwest.
    It was also a strong reminder, in case Christie needed it, that David Fisher was not on his team or, indeed, even in his universe.
    “Yes, Amy and Joe. Amy’s the oldest. She’s twenty-one. And Joe’s three years younger.”
    “They’re both away at college?”
    David nodded. “Amy’s up in State College studying nursing at PSU, and Joe’s just over in Lancaster at Franklin and Marshall. But he lives in the dorms and he’s pretty busy, so I rarely see him. He wants to become a minister.”
    Christie’s eyes flickered back to the photo. Both Amy and her mother wore long dresses and had their long hair back in buns. They clearly weren’t Amish, but they weren’t exactly modern either. “A minister in what denomination?”
    “Mennonite. Our church is fairly progressive—for Mennonite.”
    Christie couldn’t hold back his snark. “Is that like saying a dog is gentle for an attack dog?”
    David studied Christie’s face for a moment, a frown between his brows. Yeah, way not to show bitterness with that analogy, Christie! But then David shrugged, and the corners of his mouth turned up a little. “I suppose it’s all relative.”
    “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Actually I was raised Southern Baptist. I bet it’s not all that different.”
    “You were?” David looked surprised.
    Christie nodded and took a bite of rice—the tikka masala sauce was so yummy over rice; he could eat just that for days. He gave himself a moment to think about how honest he wanted to be. “I haven’t been to church since I moved away from home when I was eighteen. You could say I have some issues with religion.”
    David looked thoughtful rather than shocked or disapproving. “How old are you now, if