7. Old Home Place

They began to develop patterns and habits as they learned to live together. Jamie didn't mind playing happy homemaker for awhile, till he could get his job back, and every night when Kent got off work he looked forward to his 5 p.m. snack. For someone so keen on training and conditioning his lover to be the perfect fucktoy, he failed to notice how completely he was being stimulated and rewarded, over and over, to become a good husband. Jamie would lay out his nachos or broiled shrimp kabobs or spinach dip and Kent would happily dig in, unaware that two-thirds of his meal wasn't animal but vegetable.

And true to his word, Jamie was good at reprogramming him to cook 90 minutes later. "It's a guy job all the way," Jamie claimed Monday evening. "You get to play with knives and do your ninja thing. Veggies don't get chopped, they get dismembered. You get to throw stuff around, tossing this, shoveling that. You don't just combine ingredients, you pop them into the cement mixer. You get to build stuff; it's better than TinkerToys or Legos. You get to make a mess and nobody yells at you; messes are part of the game, that's how you score."

"Hey, if it's messes you want, I could get real good at scoring."

"And best of all, every time you win there's a banquet. You don't have to dress up or give a speech, we just eat, a dinner party every night. And once we're done we don't go back to work, we sit and relax." Jamie never did dishes as soon as the meal was done; they'd clear off the table but that was it, everything got piled in the kitchen and he turned the light off. For the rest of the evening whenever they went for a drink of water or some iced tea, they cleaned up three items and that was all; they went through the kitchen often enough that it all got handled without being a burden, without being compulsive about it, without being like Grandma thinking she had to do things right away before she could sit down and live.

He had a system and conditioned Kent to it. Plus it was Advent, with candle-lighting and psalms.

Kent also started some habits. He always woke up before Jamie did, and every morning he'd hide a little note somewhere around the house; it might be in the cereal box or the medicine cabinet or taped to the kitchen window: "Kent ❤ Jamie," "Blondboys have more fun," "Work out naked and DON'T think of me." Jamie, being a sentimental wuss, saved them all.

His favorite innovation was something Kent started right away, after the snack but before it was time to get dinner. Wherever Jamie was, Kent would come and stand over him and say gruffly, "Come here, boy." Jamie had to stop what he was doing, and Kent didn't care what he was interrupting. He'd pull off Jamie's shirt, put his hand on his neck and guide him to the bedroom for Cuddle Time.

They'd lie down and hold each other; sometimes they talked about their day, or made a little plan for the future, or worked out some minor conflict and made a new rule; sometimes they took a little nap, or just lay together—and sometimes of course they had sex, Kent with his hand on the back of that neck, no talking, just being quiet and physical together, making love.

Jamie was hooked, instantly and permanently. Which was the point of Kent's system, entirely designed for monogamy.

In his three months of waiting, Kent had thought long and hard about how to make his system work. Obedience was essential, it got him hard and got him off, but he had to pair it with sensitivity and utmost consideration for Jamie's needs and desires too. Kent's father was the ultimate role model and coach; he wore the pants in the family but never fought his wife's wearing them too. He was always looking for ways to do something for her, to please her, to put her first; to anticipate her feelings, and listen when he was wrong. All the Kessler men were macho, conservative types, but only James Earl actually thought it all through. He was in love with Martha, so always thinking of her; she knew it and loved him for it. And sometimes they'd fight like cats and dogs, only to make up later once she refused to deal with a stubborn old mule and he came crawling back for forgiveness. They argued constantly about feminism; he claimed to be against it but he was totally under her rule—except in one room, the bedroom, the love room.

There's no substitute for a happy marriage. And when he put Kent through a year's worth of Manhood Training at age 13, that was always the lesson, how to have a happy marriage. The main lesson: "Do everything your wife tells you to, and she'll do everything you tell her."

Being with Jamie started to heal Kent of the great rip of his life; not losing baseball, but his Dad.

Wednesday evening he took Jamie to meet his mother. Kent got home and found Jamie dressed in a navy blazer with shiny buttons, a fancy handkerchief, dark red shirt and gold tie. Kent had been out in the field that day helping cover a barn fire in boots and jeans and his STATE POLICE leather jacket. "Oh, man, we're just goin' to the farm. Whatcha all dressed up for?"

"Your mother," Jamie said sharply. "I suggest you do the same."

"Oh man, I gotta wear a tie? I'm filthy and tired and cold, I just wanna relax."

"This isn't a cornshuck, mister, it's a once in a lifetime event. If we get there and she's doing casual, then it's off with the coat and tie. But you're not tracking mud through her kitchen, you're introducing me to Lady #1. That makes it an occasion. So into the shower with you straightaway. You'll warm up and be refreshed and then we'll go. Your clothes are all laid out, all you have to do is step into them."

"Hope I get a shirt with a big neck," Kent grumbled.

"Do you accuse me of failing to think of everything?"

Kent chuckled and kissed him, "No, baby, I ain't that dumb."

"See that you're not," Jamie laughed.


* * *


Forty minutes later they entered Montgomery County from Tippecanoe. Kent said, "Our land starts here."

They drove past a sign announcing Shawnee Mound Farm, with a house a short way up from the road, but they didn't turn in. Jamie asked, "Do you own the mound?"

"Yes. The house is leased to my Uncle John. The ground is too for that matter. The mound's a great lookout post, you can see the creek and the river both. Plus we figure they might have VIPs buried there, war chiefs and religious leaders. I ain't sure the Shawnees did that, but other Eastern Woodland bands did, so we always treat it like sacred ground. I'll take you there someday, we'll have a picnic and see what the lookouts saw."

They kept going for several miles. Kent said, "On the west, that's not ours now, on the east it still is. Over the years we've traded some, sold some, bought some; Daddy's the one that got us back to the original purchase size. The second generation spent a lot of money, then I guess the Depression hit us pretty hard, but he and Grandpa made it all back. Which took a tremendous amount of doing. Man, what a good farmer Daddy was. Innovative, smart, thrifty, well-liked; a good steward. He did a lot of restoration too, to prevent chemical runoff. He used to study the whole off-season, goin' to shows and conferences and talkin' to other guys. He wasn't idle this time of year, he was workin'. Then over the holidays him and Mom'd take off for Christmas break, whatever time she had; she teaches school, Jamie, first or second grade. We always had Christmas at home, but before or afterwards we'd travel, wherever she wanted to go, Orlando, the Painted Desert, San Antonio, Mexico one time. I still got my sombrero from that trip. Saw the pyramids the Aztecs built, they were really somethin'."

They held hands and smiled, Kent driving easily, a southpaw on these old familiar roads. Then he signaled and turned east, "Josiah Kessler Road."

"My," Jamie mused.

"Kessler Township, dude."

It was dark so there wasn't much to see, but they kept driving; Jamie wondered how much of this was family land. All of it? Kent didn't say.

Soon they saw lights from a little settlement. "Get this," Kent said. "We're kinda goin' out of our way, but this is how we got to come." They entered a wooded area and the road turned twisty. "Baby's gotta see this."

He slowed way down, the sound under the tires changed and the road turned drummy, bum bum bum bum bum. Jamie looked up at a street light and saw a wooden roof, wooden walls. "Where are we?"

"Kessler Bridge over Sugar Creek, just outside the Town of Friends."

"A covered bridge?"

"You bet, baby. Built in 1846 by Josiah's own hands. 'Course he probably had help from employees and neighbors, but he's the one who paid for it, so people could get to church and the county seat. This bridge burned once, but they saved most of it, and it's been renovated several times. Last time was eight years ago, Dad and me got to help out."

"This is your home place."

"Sure is."

They went through and past the town in two minutes, the road straightened out and Kent turned again. He didn't announce it, but this was Kessler Chapel Road. One mile later he pulled into the parking lot with the headlights aimed at the church.

"This is it," Jamie said.

"Yeah, baby."

"What a lovely setting."

"This is what the old man came here for, besides makin' a living in the wilderness. He came to build this meetin' house. It's the oldest surviving structure in the county, from 1842."

"Has it been added onto?"

"Oh yeah. Next time we come I'll show you around."

"And the churchyard?"

"Where we're all buried. Me too, someday, I hope." Kent turned shy and said, "If you'll be with me."

"Hallowed ground."

"Dang right." Kent put the pickup in gear and got back on the paved road, doubling back the way they came, then turning once more onto a smooth highway. "Two minutes," he said. "You'll know when we get there."

A tall fence rose up on the right, brick and concrete posts with heavy wood rails. Ahead were bright lights well away from the road. In another mile or two they came to a heavy iron gate, which Kent opened by remote. They entered a tree-lined avenue, Christmas decorations throughout the yard, Santas on sleighs, JOY and PEACE, reindeer grazing, an electronic North Pole. Jamie was a bit disoriented at seeing the Christmas things; as an Advent-keeper he was used to waiting, and as someone who avoided TV, he was spared all the Jingle Bells and "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer."

They came to a clearing with a circle drive in front of a big Georgian house of red brick. Another drive branched away to a porte-cochere on the left and probably a garage in the back. It dawned on Jamie that he'd married into the local gentry.

The house was impressive in its width and height and balance, yet it wasn't elaborately decorated or showy; there were a few Italiante touches visible, but the semi-circle of four pillars in front was only one story tall, with double doors and a balcony above and a third floor above that. The house looked solid and lived in, without bragging, without apologizing.

Jamie said, "A modest man's great house."

"Perfect description." Kent parked by the front portico, then pulled him close. "Welcome home, Jamie. This here's where I'm from."

Jamie undid his seat belt and put on his overcoat as Kent got out to open his door for him. "I know you can open your own door," Kent said, "it's just a gesture of respect for the place and the occasion."

Jamie stepped out, Kent shut the door and gave him his arm. Jamie looked at him, then grasped his biceps and they climbed the four steps. Kent rang the bell on the Winchester chimes.

A woman answered the door, brunette with a few streaks of gray, 5'8" in low heels, black full-length dress with pink and white flowers, diamond earrings; she was very, very pretty, and Jamie saw the family resemblance immediately. She gazed smiling at him and said, "Come in, dear. Welcome to Hickory Grove."

Martha wasn't wearing jeans; this was an occasion. They got inside and beamed at each other. Kent kissed her cheek, grasped her hand and said, "Mother, may I present the man I married, my beloved James Rees Foster."

She shook his hand like a professional, five fingers and palm, "How do you do, son?"

"Very well, ma'am. Thank you for having us."

Kent said, "Jamie, the lady in my life, my mother Martha Tanquery Kessler."

Jamie held her shoulder lightly and brushed her cheek. "You are lovely. Now I know where he gets his looks."

"Thank you, Jamie, and do flatter me all you like. You're here, guys!" she cried. "Welcome home!"

Kent was glad Jamie made him wear a tie.++

© Copyright 2009 Josh Thomas, All Rights Reserved.