Palouse - 41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Matthew 7:1 – February 1996

Later That Day

Shooed out of the kitchen earlier so that Betty could be alone and occupied with dinner, Kat finally left Greg and Rachel in the den, went back to the kitchen and asked if she could help, catching Betty staring into the blank faces of the kitchen cabinets.

“You can set the table,” Betty suggested, as she was startled out of her daze.

“No need. Micah and David are doing that.”

“Well, why don’t you mash the potatoes, while I make some gravy. I’ve got a bowl warming in the oven to put them in. And you can put the green beans in the other bowl in there.”

“Mom, are you okay?” Kat asked as she caught her mom’s face looking sad.

“No, no. Everything’s fine,” Betty said, putting on a cheery demeanor. But the smile on her face did not translate through to her eyes, and Kat noticed.

“It isn’t, Mom. I can see that.”

Tears rose in Betty’s eyes. “I…I almost… I told David to leave this house, yet I accepted Rachel here even though I don’t think she is good for Greg. But I realize that David is good for Micah. I’m so confused.”

The conversation was interrupted by Micah and Greg asking if they could help bring the serving dishes to the dining room. So the next few minutes were filled with the bustle of a large group of people getting ready to have a big farm dinner. The distraction allowed Betty to recompose herself.

The long dining-room table was nearly full again – for the first time since most of the Kingmans had been still living at home. It was a good feeling for Betty and Stan, and Betty asked if she could say grace.

They all joined hands, bowed their heads and waited. David held Micah’s hand on one side, and Stanley took Micah’s other. Kat held David’s other hand. It took Betty a few minutes to compose herself. “Father, we thank you for this food and for the people in this room. The Bible says ‘Judge not that ye be not judged,’ and I hadn’t realized the wisdom of those words until this afternoon. I ask you for the forgiveness that I have failed to extend to others. I ask that forgiveness so that we can enjoy the bounty that you have provided us this evening. Amen.”

David looked up at Micah, smiled and squeezed his hand. Betty looked at Rachel and then David, resting her gaze upon her son’s lover. David glanced at Betty, then looked her in the eye and smiled a silent thank you. She smiled back.

Dawn came with its long shadows across the eastern hills, intensifying the colors of the Palouse into postcard beauty. The air had cooled, and David sat on the porch in a robe. He had awakened a few minutes earlier and slipped on his outer shirt, his Levi’s and Greg’s robe before he descended the stairs and went out onto the porch, settling into one of the Adirondack chairs that always waited for someone to enjoy their comfort. David had shivered when he first came outside, but the sun warmed him enough for comfort. He didn’t have anything to do. He’d left his book in Micah’s and Greg’s room and didn’t want to disturb the household, so he sat and watched the passage of the sun rising at a low, winter angle across the early-morning hills.

He was deep in thought, and his attention broken only by the changing light on the hills, fields, trees and fences of the Kingman farm. He didn’t notice when Betty sat down on the chair next to his, handing him a cup of coffee, its steam showing in the cool air. She stared at this young man who had stolen her son’s heart and represented what was wrong with the world, but she knew that what David and Micah had developed between them was somehow not wrong, even though her religion and upbringing had said it was.

“I want to make peace,” she said, the sound of her voice breaking the morning silence.

David thought about her offer then nodded. He thought that maybe she really meant détente, but he instinctively knew that a quip in that regard would not get the conversation off to a good start. He accepted her statement as a sincere response to his and Micah’s relationship.

* * * * *

“Well, that was interesting,” Micah said as they were driving south from the Kingman farm.

“It was okay, Micah. It started pretty badly…”

“Understatement.”

“… but it turned out peaceful. Certainly, far more than I hoped for after that first night. The road from war to peace or détente was…what did you call it, ‘interesting’.”

“I’m still shaking inside.”

“Come shake against me,” David said as he pulled Micah to him. In 10 minutes, Micah was fast asleep with his head leaning on David’s shoulder.

A week later, a letter arrived from the Whitman’s Admission’s Office notifying Micah that he had been accepted into the college and been offered a scholarship. David was there when Micah opened the letter, and David was there to accept an extremely soft and sensuous kiss. Uncertainty over, Micah fell into David’s arms, and then the two Whitman students melted into each other for the next hour.

“We’re going to celebrate,” David said. “Much as I like you as you are, get showered and get dressed. We’re going out to dinner and champagne.”

In a half hour, they were on the road to Patit Creek Restaurant in Dayton, a town 33 miles away with a population of 2,500 persons. Patit Creek was an oddity. It was a fine French restaurant in the middle-of-nowhere, wheat country, tens of miles from any large city. It had, though, the good fortune of having many millionaire wheat farmers who had spent winter weeks in Paris and wanted a Parisian-type restaurant nearby.

David pulled out his fake ID and ordered Roederer champagne to start along with goose-liver pate and snails, followed by a Chateau Margaux with the steak and béarnaise sauce. A 1977 vintage Sandeman’s Port topped off the chocolate mousse. David winced as he looked at the bill, but figured his parents wouldn’t mind if he remembered to tell them why they were celebrating.

With his near-future settled, the remainder of the spring term went quickly for Micah. He virtually abandoned his dorm room, staying at David’s, whose roommate had virtually abandoned his bed for his girlfriend’s. Life was good. The last semester at Walla Walla College was good, his grades reflecting the renewed purpose in his life.

The summer would see the two young men in different places. David had a summer job in Spokane; Micah worked for his father. Though farm work didn’t allow regular days off, Micah spent those that he did have in Spokane at David’s welcoming home. He reestablished his fond relationship with David’s parents, who reciprocated. He hoped someday that David could be as welcome in Endicott, but he didn’t want to roil the waters yet. His mother needed time to accept David. Rather, his mother needed some time to accept David with Micah, and neither wanted to press the matter.

Classes at Whitman started at the end of August, shortly after Micah’s dawn-to-dusk harvest ordeal on one of the combines. Wheat prices were good, so Stanley was extra-generous with Micah, sending him off to Whitman with a few extra thousand dollars in the bank.

If Micah thought there would be any respite between the long hours of the wheat harvest and the start of school, he was mistaken. Well, the first day was long because it was with David – together in their top-floor apartment. One hour of that day was spent unpacking; the other hours were, well, used to get reacquainted, only to be rudely interrupted the next day by classes and their syllabi. The weekend was filled with the first string-quartet practice of the school year – a practice that was intensive and boded well for the future.

In the end, though, life was a duet between a violin and a cello, between Micah Kingman and David Stirling.

THE END