The Bachelor Farmer - 1. The Bachelor Farmer

The Bachelor Farmer

Sven Tollefson stood by the rail fence looking at his dying corn. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a blue handkerchief and felt despair well up in him. All over Cottonwood County, thousands of farmers were seeing the same thing. Crops dying from a heat wave coupled with a severe drought. The corn leaves were still green but hanging wilted from stems that were almost gray. It wouldn’t take much longer before most of the field was dead.

“Damn!” he exclaimed to no one since no one else was around.

Sven took a hike over through his little grove of trees and looked at his clover field. There would be no second crop this year. The clover was yellow and stunted. In some patches, where the soil was quite sandy, the clover wasn’t even yellow. It was brown, dormant from the lack of moisture. He walked through the field and wondered, ‘What am I going to do?’

His dairy cows were his bread and literally the butter for the farm. He had some chickens for eggs and meat and a couple of pigs, one hog would be ready for slaughter this fall. But his dairy cows were his income. Without hay and corn, he had nothing to feed them during the long harsh winters.

1888 was clearly not a good year for the farmers in the area. At least he didn’t have lots of mouths to feed. Others would feel the pangs of hunger as their income dried up along with the udders of his cows.

“I need a backup plan,” he muttered, his Norske lilt lost in the hot, dry wind. “I finally got a good herd of milkers. Now I can’t even feed dem.”

Sven headed back to the farmyard. He paused behind the barn at some planks capping a wooden lined box. Luckily he’d dug a new well with the help of some itinerant farm hands two years ago. When he looked down the old well, the fifteen-foot hole was bone dry. The new forty-foot well had a nice supply of water. He’d managed to keep the garden moist and he’d have a bumper crop of tomatoes, cucumbers, pumpkins, potatoes, and beans.

There wasn’t enough water for the fields though. Not much of that corn would survive.

Sven’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a horse’s hooves pounding on the hard dirt path from the road to his farm. It was someone from town, flaxen blonde haired and familiar; Nels who worked at the general store for his father. He jumped off his horse when the old painted slag came to a halt.

“Ya got a telegram Mr. Tollefson. I brought it right out cuz Pa said to,” the young man flashed him a smile.

“Mighty kind of ya,” Sven said. “Some coffee for ya? Or sumting cold to drink?”

“How about something cold?” Nels said rubbing his own blue handkerchief across his neck. “Pretty dang hot out.”

Sven smiled and beckoned for him to follow to the house.

“Stay here on the porch where it’s a little cooler,” the older man said. He went to the cellar to fetch a pitcher of lemonade. Sven, like most folks, kept the icebox in the cool cellar instead of the hot kitchen. On scorching days like this, cold lemonade really hit the spot. Sven poured some into two glasses and returned to the porch.

“Here ya go,” he said sitting on a wooden rocker. “Any good news?”

“The town council approved expansion of the railroad,” Nels said as he sipped on his drink. “Not sure we’ll need it given the drought though.”

“Yah,” Sven said. “I’m trying ta figure out how to feed the stock for the winter. I’m having no luck.”

“Can’t feed milking cows dry stalks can ya?” Nels said. Everyone knew that, even the youngest son of the general store’s owner.

“Nope. If I could only keep ‘em green all winter long,” Sven grinned. “Preserve dem or something.”

“Like sauerkraut,” Nels joked. “Maybe bury ‘em in the ground and serve up with sausages like my ma.”

Sven laughed at the image but something about the joke made sense. You could bury cabbage which would ferment and preserve it. Sauerkraut was good for you in the winter. It had properties to keep you feeling good.

Could he do that with his corn crop?

He’d read something in the newspaper a few years back about a Frenchman who’d done just that. Instead of in the ground, he’d put his corn in a tightly sealed wooden box. The corn stalks fermented and the article said the stinking, steaming corn had been ideal for feeding cows, better than hay they claimed. Maybe he could do the same.

“You know Nels, dat idea of yours might be exactly what I need to do,” Sven said after a little thought. “It can’t hurt.”

“Yeah?” Nels said, a big smile growing on his sunburnt face. “Sounds like an experiment or something.”

“I guess so. Be a lot of work too,” Sven said thinking about how the corn stalks would need to be chopped and transported from the field to a building. There was no building on the farm that was airtight though.

“You’d prolly need some help with it,” Nels said. “Too much work for one man.”

“Yah,” Sven said. Maybe the old well would work. He could chop up the corn stalks and dump them in that old well sealing it off like you did for sauerkraut. It would hold in the heat from the fermenting leaves and keep from bursting into flames.

“I’d have to hire a hand to help me. Know anyone who works cheap?” Sven said.

“You paying?” Nels asked. “More than room and board and pocket money?”

“Yah,” Sven said looking at the blond man more closely. Nels was sturdy, well-muscled, and though too thin; he could haul a wagon without much trouble.

“Pa doesn’t pay me much. What are ya thinking?” Nels said leaning closer. “It’s time I made my own money.”

Sven rubbed his chin. “Since you’ll be working sunup to sundown, I figure $4 per week is fair.”

“Four a week? Are you pulling my leg? That’s top dollar,” Nels gushed. “Damn! Oh, sorry about that.”

Sven laughed. “You’ll hear me swear soon enough.” The young man’s enthusiasm was contagious. Nels was like a newborn colt ready to romp around the yard in his excitement.

“So is it a deal?” Sven asked holding out his hand.

“Yes sir, it’s a deal,” Nels said shaking his hand firmly.

********************

Sven found he had to wean a lot of habits out of the boy. Nels had shown up at daybreak the next morning eager to get started. First he had to stop the young man from calling him “sir” and “Mr. Tollefson.” Sven assured Nels that calling him by his given name was formal enough.

That first day he’d also shown up with a dinner pail. After a morning of chopping cornstalks and hauling them to the old well, a dinner of a bread and butter and a green apple wasn’t enough. Nels had wolfed down his meager meal and Sven noticed he was eying the sausages and onions he was frying up.

“You don’t need to bring a dinner pail,” he’d told the man. “Just eat what I fix.”

“I can’t do that sir, um Sven,” he said shyly. “Pa told me you were paying me way too much for field work.”

“You’re working for me now, not your Pa. As your boss I say you eat what I fix,” Sven said sternly. Nels shrugged his shoulders and ate heartily.

By the third day, Nels would appear at his doorstep just as Sven finished his breakfast. He always had a big breakfast because the work was hard and it took lots of fuel to do it.

The blonde man stood there, hat in hand as Sven finished a pile of fried potatoes and four boiled eggs. That’s when Sven heard Nels’ stomach growl.

“Uff da, I made too much today,” Sven said patting his middle. “Don’t suppose you’d help me finish dis?”

“I can’t eat your breakfast sir,” Nels said shyly. “My ma taught me better than that.”

“Your ma taught you to turn down a host’s invitation?” Sven said chuckling. “I can’t believe dat.”

“If you’re sure,” Nels said grinning ear to ear. He plopped down and finished up the last of the food in a few minutes.

Later in the morning, Sven found out the man only had oatmeal each morning. No wonder the kid was so rangy looking. Sven couldn’t imagine doing this much manual labor with only a stomach full of husk filled oatmeal.

The next morning, Sven started cooking his breakfast a little later than usual. By the time Nels showed, a steaming plate of pancakes and bacon were sitting in the middle of his wooden table. It was more than enough for two. Nels stared like a starving man looking at a banquet.

“Always make too many pancakes to eat. Better grab a plate and help me eat dem,” Sven said. Nels appeared as though he was about to argue but just smiled and joined him.

It was during the meal Sven found out Nels really liked animals. He hated running errands for his father’s store. He’d always wanted to farm. The young man said farmers got something out of the bare soil. It was almost magical, the way he put it.

**************

Sven looked up from chopping the cornstalks with a corn knife and watched as Nels shoveled the green chunks into the cart. They traded off the tasks to make it less mundane. Nels had his shirt off and his skin glowed in the harsh sunlight. He was developing quite the tan and Sven noticed he didn’t seem as thin either. His big breakfasts and midday dinners were having an impact already.

That’s when the man noticed the sweat glistening off the blonde man’s chest hair. Nels looked up and smiled at him. It was a smile of youth and vigor and Sven pulled his eyes away. There was something about him that was pecking at him. Sven shook his head and went back to chopping the green stalks, his hands stained with the juices.

**************

That night, as Sven sat alone in his rocker on the porch enjoying the cool breeze dry his skin, he got to thinking. It had been a hard working week and tomorrow was the end of it. They’d already cleared three acres of corn. He had about twenty left to do because that bottom land had enough moisture those acres of corn looked good even with the drought. At least he’d get some crop.

His thoughts wandered to the sight of Nels in the field. Sven wasn’t sure what he was feeling but it was a new­-old feeling. New in that he hadn’t really experienced it before. Old in that his memory of Luther was kind of similar.

Sven hadn’t thought of the man in many years.

Luther and he were scouting a Tennessee rebel formation. It had been really dangerous and both men were on edge. After they’d been spotted, they hid in an old barn. He could still smell the chicken shit and dust.

Luther was another farm boy only from Michigan. They were buddies and got along well. That night something changed things though. As they huddled together to fend off the chill, Sven felt Luther’s hand on his leg. It was hot, burning through the thick cotton. Luther’s hand didn’t stay there. It moved up toward his groin. Sven found he was doing the same thing, mirroring the man’s actions.

After just a couple of awkward rubs, Sven felt himself explode. Luther grunted and pushed against his hand, the cotton becoming moist and sticky.

They never spoke of that night, because the next day Luther was shot dead. Sven tried not to consider it divine retribution. But, it felt like his buddy had been ripped from the earth. Luther’s face was so beautiful when he’d grunted and spasmed. His skin was so pink and velvety.

That’s the way Nels’ skin in the sunlight made him feel. It was old like the feeling he had with Luther but new because it was something even more special. He enjoyed the young man’s laugh and jokes. They worked together as a team and for the first time since the war, Sven was lonely. He saw him every day this week but still he was missing something. Sven wondered what Nels’ skin would feel like under his fingers.

Sven shook his head to clear it, like he always did. He needed to push such thoughts from his mind. These were sinful thoughts. It was illegal what he was dreaming about. Nels was a good kid from a Christian home, good, steady Lutherans like he was. The young man would probably hit him if he had even an inkling of Sven’s thoughts.

**********************

Pastor Gustav Jager walked into his back door pulling his boots off in the mudroom. “Helena, I’m back.”

“How are the Hauptmann sisters?” she called out.

“As cantankerous as ever,” he laughed.

“There’s a package for you in the study,” Helena said appearing in the doorway and giving him a kiss. “It’s from Germany.”

“I wonder what it could be.” Gustav said pulling her closer for another kiss. She giggled and pulled away.

“I’m busy with dinner you old goat. Go see what the package is.”

Gus chuckled as he left his wife and went to his study. He looked at the writing but didn’t recognize it as family. The postmark was from Jena, where he’d gone to university. But, as far as he knew, all his friends from those heady days were elsewhere.

He hefted it. There were definitely books inside. Gus cut the string and unwrapped the coarse brown paper. He opened the box and it was books and pamphlets. It was an assortment of interesting titles. One was ‘The Soul of Man’ by someone with the same name as him. That was funny although it was a common name.

Others were writings by people he’d known, way back in the past. There were newspaper articles authored by Kertbeny and a big tome by Richard. He hadn’t thought of those men for years, but now he knew who sent the package.

It had to be Stephan. Only he would send a package of books and various works from old friends.

By the time he’d taken all the books and papers out, he saw an envelope at the bottom. It was addressed simply to “Gus.” Stephan must be getting batty. He’d never called him that name. It was always either his entire name or pet names he’d concoct from time to time. The pastor tore open the letter, frantic to read the words from his old college roommate.

“Meine liebste Vogelscheuche”

Gus laughed at that. Stephan was always teasing him about his clothes calling him his ‘scarecrow.’ His roommate was so vain he’d go without food rather than dress in a less than immaculate suit and tie. Thoughts of Stephan’s twinkling voice filled him with fond memories. He read on.

“I know I’ve been a poor correspondent with you these past several years. I’ve been busy entertaining the male population of Jena. Don’t worry Gustav, I won’t regale you with my amorous exploits because that would get you so aroused your poor, boring American wife would have to service your needs.”

Only Stephan could write such playful, sinful things and get away with it. As a student, he’d charmed the pants off more than a few other male students, not to mention some faculty. Gustav had always admonished him but it did no good. Stephan was one of a kind.

“Instead I send you learned treatises and writings from our old friends and some of my best bed partners. I know you will look at them with sourness and judgment, but you love the argument. They are the residues of our talks and discussions.”

Gus smiled as he thought about the long discussions about the nature of man and what was innate and what was learned. Stephan would take the opposite of whatever position Gus took, and he’d usually prevail. How many beers and coffees had they consumed trying to discover what made man tick? Countless surely was the answer.

“I’m writing you after this long absence because I will not be here long. I have cancer and that means I am thinking about things as an old man does. You will have to continue remembering for me when I’m gone. My life has been full and fun because of our talks and time together.”

Stephan was dying? Gus put a hand on his heart. The man was so full of vim and vigor. How many times had his antics gotten them into trouble? Regardless, Stephan always got them out of it. His charm won the day.

“Remember Kertbeny? As you will see, I finally won the argument with him on the nature of my attractions. He concedes my correctness and sees the light. I’ve included a letter from him along with the other pieces I’ve collected. They would have been destroyed when I’m gone so you are the caretaker of this repository.

“Never forgot the night before you left. It is impressed upon my heart.

With deepest affections,

Dein Rehlein”

Gus reread the letter and tears streamed down his face. His old friend was dying and he’d never see his bright, fawn-like eyes again. Gus called him “Rehlein” because he looked so innocent but behind that purity laid a rascal.

There was another letter in the envelope. It was small, folded up tight. He opened it.

It was addressed to Stephan and the first portions were very private. Gus blushed at the descriptions little Karl gave to Stephan’s various body parts. It was the middle that shocked him.

Kertbeny was discussing how the proposed German law making Stephan and people like them criminals for their sexual behavior was morally wrong. His words sounded like they’d come directly from Stephan’s mouth. It didn’t matter if their desire for other men was innate or not. Kertbeny wrote;

“Rather we should convince our opponents that exactly according to their legal notions they do not have anything to do with this inclination, let it be innate or voluntary, because the state does not have the right to intervene in what is happening between two consenting people aged over 14, excluding publicity, not hurting the right of any third party…”

Gus put away the letters and thought about the departure of his dear, sweet Stephan. He could remember the day the man referenced like it was yesterday.

Stephan was furious at Gus’ leaving. He ranted and raved, which was unlike him usually. Finally, Stephan took him out for a drink. After several beers, they returned to the small apartment they’d shared for years.

Stephan had tried everything to get Gus to be with him, but he never had. As a concession to his upset friend on the eve of his leaving for America, he agreed to a kiss. Gus figured he’d never return and it was a final gift for such a remarkable friend.

The kiss began softly, almost hesitantly, which surprised him. Stephan was a loud and open lover when he entertained his men. But then, the kiss deepened and it had such meaning. When Stephan pulled away, he looked into Gus’ eyes and said, “Now do you understand?”

Gus did. He’d always thought Stephan was a libertine, a perverted man who would eventually be condemned by God. Gus thought Stephan did these things because he was depraved and liked to flaunt the wisdom of the Word and the law.

Stephan’s kiss told Gus he loved him. That was the nature of his human condition. Stephan loved Gus with all his heart in a way that couldn’t be those other things. It was a pure, white love of caring and passion.

Gus sat in the study looking over the pamphlets and the letters, clippings and books. Helena came to the door and looked at him.

“Who sent you these things?” she asked sweetly.

“My old university roommate. He’s dying.”

“Oh, Gus, I’m so sorry,” she said moving toward him.

“It’s hard to let him go,” Gus said. “Can I have a minute?”

“Sure,” Helena said. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

She retreated from his goodbyes and memories.

************************

Sven stood at the window watching the rain fall. Nels was quiet beside him. Their usual chatter had dried up. There was no reason to continue filling the dry well with chopped corn stalks and leaves.

In the three weeks since they started the experiment, they’d gotten almost eight acres cleared. The well was already three quarters full but now it might not be needed. The rain was giving the clover new life and the corn a fighting chance.

Sven felt nothing but emptiness though because Nels would be leaving and not coming back. These past three weeks had been the best of his life. Having the young man around had revived his spirit. It had awakened feelings he had suppressed and forgotten. Now it was over. The experiment was finished.

“I guess I should get my things,” Nels said softly. It had seemed silly for the blonde man to trek all the way back and forth between town and his job at the farm. After the excruciating first Sunday alone, Sven offered to have Nels stay at the farm, for convenience. It had been a moment of weakness by the older man and he was surprised Nels agreed to it. Surely he was courting some young lass, though the blonde man never spoke of anyone special.

“No hurry,” Sven said woodenly. “It’s still raining.”

“It will stop soon,” Nels said and went to gather his things.

Sven tried to think of reasons he needed the man to stay. He thought about the wheat field which would soon need harvesting. There was canning and feeding the livestock. Then, shortly thereafter the corn needed shocking. There were all the tasks involved in milking and…

“Nels?” he said as he watched the young man fold a shirt. “I need you.”

Nels looked up. A grin crossed his face. “You do?”

“I need help around here. Usually I hire some itinerant help but I’m getting older and I…”

“I’ll stay Sven,” Nels said happily. “Of course, if you still need help.”

“Please?” Sven said trying to keep his voice steady.

“I can help with all the fall work and then in the winter…”

“I’ll need help den too. I’m getting older and if you wanna farm, I can teach you.”

Nels beamed at him. “Can I stay here too?”

“You’d need to,” Sven said. He was trying really hard not to sound as excited as he really felt.

****************

“Giddy-up Daisy,” he said urging his old mare faster. He was heading out to the farm for the long haul now. The last of his things were in an old cart his pa gave him. His ma’s tears were almost forgotten, but it hadn’t been an easy talk. He had managed to make it sound above board, in spite of his parents’ questions.

“Why does that old bachelor want full time help?” his pa asked looking at him with suspicion.

“He’s getting older and his back isn’t as good as it used to be. He needs help,” Nels lied.

“I’ve never heard Mr. Tollefson complain before,” his ma said. “You should be starting a family not holed up in the middle of nowhere with an old farmer.”

“People will talk,” his pa said. The old man was a mean bastard and way too canny.

Nels had worried about their reaction. His parents had been pushing him to court one of the gals who hung around the store and flirted with him. Thinking of a wife made his stomach queasy. His feelings for the fairer sex were definitely not good ones. Nels found himself thinking about Todd, the blacksmith’s son when he was feeling frisky. The things they’d done made him blush.

If only Sven would do those things to him.

Todd had married a girl out of school and they had three kids already. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want a woman crawling all over him. It disgusted him.

Sven’s long lean body was a different story.

“It’s time you settled down and gave us some grandchildren,” Pa said watching Nels carefully.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Nels exploded. “I work for you for free and I’ll never be able to provide for a wife and kids. What woman would marry a man without a trade or prospects of one?”

“I’m grooming you,” his pa said for the hundredth time. “You’ll take over the store.”

“In twenty years,” Nels said and put his books in an old crate. “You’re not ready to hand it over and I want to farm. This is a great opportunity for me to do what I want.”

That had done the trick. Neither his ma nor pa could counter his argument. Nels was a man without prospects and at least as a farmer he could get a start.

“Mr. Tollefson pays me well and he’s giving me room and board. I’ll learn how to farm, save my wages, and buy my own land,” Nels said. He pled with them, his eyes glassy.

They relented, not that they could stop him. In the end, his pa gave him a cart, the old mare, and a twenty-dollar coin. That was his legacy and he knew it was the end of his real relationship with them. Pa knew. Todd’s father told him about the creek and what he’d seen. Ma heard the talk about the drifter at the lake and what his brother had seen him let the man do. They knew. Hell, the whole town knew and at least in the solitude of Sven’s farm, he’d be able to live without sneers and whispering biddies.

Well, at least he wouldn’t have to see them do so. Except at church.

Nels could tolerate that.

Maybe Sven was like him. He doubted it. Sven was a God fearing man, hard-working and steady. No, Sven wasn’t like him but he liked being around him. The man was so kind and once he’d even touched his cheek, tenderly. It made Nels tremble just remembering.

Before Nels could get back to the farm, the rains came again. It wasn’t the soaker they’d had that morning but enough to drench him and all his clothes. He hurried the old mare as fast as he could but she was just too old.

Sven was standing on the porch waiting as he finally arrived. The man had a concerned look on his tan, weathered face. It made Nels feel pretty special. But he was freezing cold now. He got off the cart and grabbed his sodden clothes and things.

“I’ll take yer horse to the barn,” Sven said as he passed the young man. “You get outta dos wet clothes and into the kitchen where it’s warm.

Nels carried the rest of his belongings inside. He didn’t have much. But now he was really shivering. He took off his overalls and his shirt. Nels’ small clothes clung to his skin. He grabbed a towel and started drying himself his teeth chattering in spite of the heat from the old cob stove.

“You’ll catch your death,” Sven grumbled as he walked into the house and saw his new hired hand shaking. “Get dis around you.” He took a quilt off the couch and surrounded Nels with it. His arms lingered as he gently pulled the blanket tight around him. Sven wanted to embrace him, warm him, feel those young muscles beneath him.

“Stop it!” he snarled.

“What?” Nels asked looking at him with confusion.

“Nothing,” Sven had backed away. The sight of the trembling blond man was too much for him. Nels’ hair was sticking up, his lips blue, but there was also a smile on his face. The stubble of his beard still had water droplets clinging to it.

“We need to get another bed,” Sven said walking into the parlor. Nels followed wondering what had caused this usually gentle and kind man to become gruff all of a sudden. They stopped at the entrance to Sven’s bedroom.

“I’ll need to get you a bed,” he said bitterly. “We’ve been sleeping on the porch because of the heat but when it gets cooler you need a place to sleep.”

“Bed looks big enough to me,” Nels said with a grin.

“Grown men don’t sleep in the same bed,” Sven said shaking his head.

“I slept with my brothers and it was nice in the winter.” Nels’ voice had a calming effect on the farmer. The tense tic in his cheek relaxed.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Sven said softly. “I snore though. I wake myself up.”

“Pa snores and so does Ma. Never bothered me. I sleep like a rock,” Nels said.

“I’ll make coffee,” Sven said. Nels was still shaking although his lips had returned to a ruby red.

“Sounds good,” Nels said.

******************

The next morning Sven woke up startled. Nels’ long arms were around him and his legs and torso were spooning him. It felt too damned good. The farmer could feel the man’s ‘young man problem’ poking him in the back. That was dangerous, too dangerous.

Sven started pulling away but Nels held on tight. “You’re so warm,” he muttered. “It’s chilly out.”

Sven laid there for a minute, trying to decide. “Need to milk the cows soon.”

“Just another minute,” Nels whispered and his breath tickled the small hairs on his ear. Sven looked down and saw now he too was aroused. The young man was doing a number on his head. His thoughts were impure.

“You can lie in bed. I’ll get the milking done,” Sven said and pulled away.

Nels watched as Sven put on his shirt and overalls. The man was definitely excited. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how it would feel in his hands.

Sven disappeared into the early morning light.

*****************

“Nels. I had no idea you could cook,” Sven said tucking away the last of the apple dumpling. “Dat was some mighty fine food.”

“I helped Ma sometimes. I like to eat so I had to learn,” Nels said brightly. The praise was like rain on the parched fields. It opened him up and made him grow like the clover.

“You did a really good job on dat fence,” Sven said taking a sip of his coffee. “You’ll make a fine farmer Nels.”

It was Saturday night and while the hard work of the week left them tired, both men were looking forward to an evening of playing cards. They’d decided earlier in the day that after their baths, they’d play some poker, but without money of course. Nels pulled the bathtub out from the mud room while Sven took buckets out to the well.

Nels was nervous. Sven was worse.

Sven poured the water into the kettle and they both waited for the water to boil.

“You go first,” Sven said breaking the silence.

“No, you first,” Nels said. “I’ll wash your back.”

“You don’t have…”

“I want to,” Nels interrupted. “I want to very much.”

Nels left the kitchen to let Sven undress and get into the steaming water. He thought about what he was doing. Nels knew it was wrong. He knew the law said two men shouldn’t touch each other like that but he couldn’t stop himself. Sven’s long, lean torso, brown from the sun, was something he had to feel.

Nels felt silly inside, like he imagined a blushing virgin would. He knew he was seducing the older man and it felt good. Maybe he wasn’t alone in the world. Maybe Sven was like him. Everyone said that only degenerates liked to play with other men. He didn’t feel disgusting or vile. Nels felt elation welling up and consuming him.

He took off his shirt and overalls placing them on the chair in the bedroom. Walking into the kitchen in nothing but his underwear, he resolved to touch Sven. Nels needed this.

Sven had his back to the entrance into the kitchen from the parlor. He was washing his arms, rubbing a bar of soap over them. Nels paused because this was it, the moment when he’d throw his life away or what? What was he gambling to win? There was nothing to win here. He was about to turn and walk away.

“I thought you were gonna wash my back,” he heard Sven say. It was like music, like the organ at church when it opened up on an especially moving hymn. Nels felt his heart rise into his throat.

“Sure,” he said swallowing. He took a washcloth and dunked it in the water. “Hand me the soap.”

Sven handed him the homemade bar of lye soap and Nels rubbed it on the cloth. He ran it over Sven’s broad back and could feel the other man shudder. Empowered, the young man washed his neck and dipped the cloth down his chest. Sven leaned back and looked up at him.

Nels saw Sven was excited. It was sticking out of the water. But what really got him was the look in Sven’s eyes. It was pure lust, hot, demanding, and needy.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with a ‘young man’s problem,” he joked. For a fleeting second Sven’s eyes changed to fear. Then Nels smiled at him and that eased his mind.

Nels leaned over and kissed him.

***********************

The two men were riding their horses to church. Neither man had wanted to get out of bed, but Sven ended up insisting. You had to go to church on Sunday. It wasn’t just religion. It was expected.

They’d done the chores and chatted uneasily about breakfast, neither one mentioning their night together. The talk began to taper off.

Both men rode in silence for a spell. There were butterflies alighting on the milkweeds growing next to a barbed wire fence. The wind was barely a whisper. The smell of late blooming prairie roses filled the air. It was tranquil.

“I didn’t hurt ya did I?” Sven asked softly.

“No. Well, it hurt a little at first but then…” Nels was blushing profusely.

Sven looked at him with alarm. “I didn’t mean to hurt ya.”

“I liked it,” the young man said in turn. “You know that.”

Sven felt his face heat up. “I always thought men only did dat because they had to.”

Nels couldn’t speak at first. He needed to say something but couldn’t collect his thoughts.

“I really liked it,” he finally said.

“Oh,” Sven said. “I did too.”

“It’s not my first time,” Nels answered him looking away. “I don’t know why, but I like what you did to me.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it.” Sven now couldn’t keep his eyes off Nels. The blonde man looked so embarrassed. He felt terrible about what they’d done, three times. Something had been unleashed last night and, well, this morning. Sven couldn’t get enough.

“You know I wanted it to happen,” Nels said finally looking at him. He couldn’t drink in enough of the man’s rugged face that looked so forlorn. He wanted to kiss him and make it all better.

“I know. I just thought men only did dat when women weren’t around. Like sailors and prisoners.”

Nels didn’t say anything to that. He didn’t feel bad about it. What they’d shared had been so special to him. It sounded like Sven was regretting it.

“You know I don’t want to hurt ya,” Sven said breaking the silence.

Nels noticed the birds had stopped singing. It was silent except for the buzz of some insects.

“You made me feel so good,” the young man looked at Sven. “I don’t wanna stop doing it.”

Sven saw what was reflected in Nels’ eyes. He didn’t want it to stop either. There hadn’t been anything but joy and comfort in what they’d done. It was strange but their night was so special. It wasn’t like he thought it would be. Sven had imagined some anger or resentment but there was none of that. This morning Nels had been curled up against him and there had been smiles and coos, not furtive looks or anger.

“You gonna sit with your parents?” Sven asked. He wanted nothing more than to sit next to him but that wouldn’t be good.

“I guess,” Nels said looking down. “I should. Oh, and just so you know, you’ve got a bad back.”

Sven looked at him confused at first. Then realization dawned on him. He smiled gratefully. Nels planned for this. He’d known what they’d face. He was ready for it. Somehow, that made it seem alright.

As the men approached the little church in the middle of a grove of trees, they saw the pastor standing at the front door greeting his flock. There were women in floppy hats, girls in bonnets and dresses, and men in suits tethering their horses and unhitching wagons. It was the usual scene but something was different about it today. Both men felt the tension as these people, all of whom they knew, would see they’d changed.

“I’ll go first,” Sven said.

Nels nodded and they separated. The bond they were feeling stretched. It felt like it would snap and hurt them both but that bond held.

After tying up the horses, Sven walked toward the front of the church a sense of impending doom gathering in his chest.

“Mr. Tollefson,” Pastor Jager said loudly. “Good to see you.”

Sven could feel the weight of the other parishioners’ eyes on him. He slumped a bit and added a limp to his step.

“Tank you Pastor.” Sven said and shook the man’s hand.

“Heard you got yourself some help,” the minister said smiling innocently at him.

“Yep. Getting older I guess,” Sven said looking away. He felt terrible about the lie but it was worth it.

“Good morning Pastor Jager,” Sven heard Nels say behind him. “My parents here yet?”

“Haven’t seen them yet.”

“Okay,” Nels said brightly.

They stood in the narthex hats in hand. Neither knew what to do next.

******************

“What is he doing with him?” Gus heard Mrs. Ingebretson whisper to Mrs. Schmidt. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the question. The buzz throughout the church was about Sven Tollefson hiring Nels as a farmhand. At first he’d dismissed it as idle chatter among bored minds but it had taken on a life of its own. These people knew each other. There was something he was missing.

After greeting the final stragglers, he noted Mr. and Mrs. Larson, Nels’ parents, weren’t there. They never missed church so that was odd. As he watched the two men interacting with the others, they were also acting guilty. The blush on their cheeks was so telling.

Gus dismissed his thoughts and went into his office to gather his notes. As the organ began playing, he straightened his silken stole so it lay even against his white linen surplice. Time to get started.

************

Gus walked down the aisle towards the apse with the parishioners standing in front of their pews. He continued until he approached the altar then turned and looked over the nave where the congregation sat facing him. The choir had begun singing. Gus gestured with both hands for the congregation to sit.

That’s when he saw Sven and Nels.

They were sitting apart, more apart than seemed normal. The blonde man kept looking over at the bachelor farmer, and then he’d quickly look away. Sven seemed to squirm in his seat, deliberately not looking around.

Gus couldn’t figure out why their posturing looked so familiar to him. He shook off his wondering and started the service.

It was while the church was singing “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” that Gus finally realized what he was seeing. Sven and Nels looked just like Peter and Wolfie did when in public. It dawned on him that the gossip was based on actual observations and not just idle conjecture. Both men looked like they were in pain, actual physical pain, and a throb hit his solar plexus. Whispers were punctuating the congregation. All eyes were on those two men.

Nels’ parents were nowhere to be seen.

Gus stepped to the pulpit to read the Gospel and start the sermon. He had been going to read about Lazarus and Jesus raising him from the dead. It occurred to him that wasn’t what his flock needed. His parishioners needed something else right now. Another sermon would help ease some of the pain they were feeling.

“This is a reading from John 8, verses one through eleven,” he began.

“Jesus went unto the Mount of Olives. And early in the morning he came again into the temple, and all the people came unto him; and he sat down, and taught them. And the scribes and Pharisees brought unto him a woman taken in adultery; and when they had set her in the midst,

They say unto him, Master, this woman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?

This they said, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him. But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.

So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he stooped down, and wrote on the ground.

And they which heard it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last: and Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the midst.

When Jesus had lifted up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said unto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned thee?

She said, No man, Lord. And Jesus said unto her, Neither do I condemn thee: go, and sin no more.”

Gus watched as the congregation shifted in their seats. He could see they weren’t comfortable with this choice. Sven and Nels had moved even farther apart in the pew.

“I want to begin by considering this situation,” Gus said loudly. “Let’s look at this from the perspective of the Pharisees. They found a woman who had sinned. She’d cheated on her husband and gave lie to her marriage vows. She was a woman who scorned God and betrayed her husband. Why shouldn’t she be stoned? The scribes and Pharisees certainly knew the letter of the law.”

The congregation was enrapt, waiting for him to condemn them.

“But, Jesus turned it around on them. He demanded they look into their own souls first before they stoned the adulteress. Who is the sinner here?” he asked.

Now they looked confused. There were hushed whispers and questioning looks.

“Let me tell you a story about something that happened to me at a church in Illinois. I was fresh out of seminary and had just moved here from Germany. I was very excited to be the associate pastor of a rather large church. As the associate pastor I had the privilege to visit many church members in their time of need. One of these times brought me into a difficult situation.

“I had just left a woman who had recently had a baby. It was joyous occasion and I was about to get on my horse when I saw a member of our congregation peeking out a door. I was curious and watched as this man snuck out of the door and looked around like he was guilty. This house belonged to a woman with two fatherless children. She was quite notorious for having loose morals.

“I was incensed, outraged. I confronted him. ‘Piers, you are a family man. You have a wife and three children and you are visiting this woman’s house?”

“I thought I was doing the Lord’s work. I was addressing a fellow Christian’s wrongdoing. But here’s what the man had to say.”

“Pastor, it’s not what you think. This woman is my wife’s niece. I only bring her some day-old bread. Her husband died in the war. She had a fiancé who ran away. She has little money. Please don’t tell anyone. They won’t come to my bakery if they know she’s our kin.”

Gus paused and watched the congregation’s reaction. It was about what he’d predicted. They were confused.

“You see, I presumed the woman was something she wasn’t. Based on that false assumption, I condemned an innocent man. Not only did I condemn an innocent man, but a man who was providing charity to his kinfolk.”

“The only person who was a sinner that day was me. I put myself on a pedestal and judged a man and woman for acts I’d concocted in my own sinful heart. There was another piece of the story that isn’t always considered. When Jesus ordered them to search their own souls, the scribes and Pharisees realized they couldn’t know the circumstances of the adulteress’ situation. How could they even know if she was truly guilty and deserved death?”

Gus was pleased with the reaction of the church members. The feeling of righteous indignation had passed. There were more smiles and no more whispers. Sven and Nels looked more at ease. They even shared a hymnal for the final song.

After the service, Gus watched as several farmers surrounded Sven to talk about the project with his corn crop. Nels was joking with a couple of the pretty single girls.

“That was quite the sermon Pastor Jager,” he heard behind him. It was Anna Ingebretson and she was smirking.

“Thank you,” he turned and smiled at her.

“Was there any reason for your choice of scripture?” she asked snidely. The smug woman was staring over his shoulder. Gus knew she was looking at Sven.

“Actually there was,” he said playing into her game.

“Sven sure has taken a liking to dat Larson boy,” she snickered.

“His new hired man?” Gus asked. “Sven hurt his back something awful. At least that’s what Doc Williams said. I was going to visit him this past week but he seems to be feeling better.”

“Oh,” Anna said deflated.

“I chose today’s scripture because at the ladies aid meeting there was gossip about whether a certain farmer’s children were all his. I thought it was particularly disturbing given there isn’t any evidence to support it,” Gus said grimly.

Anna’s eyes got big and she opened and closed her mouth. No sound came out at first. “Like I said, it was a very nice sermon.”

“Thank you. Sometimes we need to remember our Savior’s words. As I suggested, I need to as well.”

**********************

Gus let his horse walk as slowly as it wanted to. The past three months had been good with one exception. He was haunted by the spectacle each Sunday of Sven sitting in a pew alone to one side and Nels sitting with his scowling parents in the back of the nave. Every time he would begin the Lord’s Prayer, he could see both Sven and Nels had red faces, trying to hide their tears.

He could tell they were hurting and he knew the reason why now. Agatha Larson had approached him just yesterday in a flood of emotions. She was worried her son was being taken advantage of. She was distraught.

After the meeting, his wife Helena had come into his study. She had always been careful when it came to church members. Counseling the parishioners was an important part of the job. Helena knew and respected that and usually didn’t comment. However, she did offer some advice about the Larsons.

“Gus, she’s gonna cause those men trouble. I hear things and I know her. You need to nip this in the bud.”

Gus knew she was right but it wasn’t easy. How can he approach them and deal with it? How could he defuse what was so obvious to Nels’ parents? All last night he’d read the books and pamphlets Stephan sent him. Then, he’d read the Bible and thought about the situation. Gus had hardly slept a wink and hoped he would get inspiration on the road to Sven’s farm.

It hadn’t happened yet.

As he approached the dirt path up to the farmyard, he could hear a voice in the back of his head. If he couldn’t just ask Nels upfront, he needed a backup plan. He needed some way to get through to him. The voice kept telling him to speak the truth. What did that mean?

*****************

“I came to visit for a reason. Nels, your mother is concerned about you. She is under the impression you aren’t working for Sven for the right reasons. She asked me to call on you,” Gus said. The meeting had been a series of uncomfortable small talk and niceties. He finally decided to go with the question head on.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Nels said looking confused. He glanced over at Sven who looked furious. “I’m just earning a living and learning how to farm.”

“I know. I think she’s just concerned about the condition of your soul,” Gus said. There. He said it. He spoke the truth.

“What are you suggesting?” Sven said loudly. “Do you tink I’m doing sumting to keep him here?”

“No. Not at all,” Gus said quickly. “That’s not my question at all.”

“Pastor Jager. I think you should just leave,” Sven said.

This wasn’t working. Why did he think the truth would work? Gus felt his face redden. Why didn’t he just tell Anna everything was fine? It was then he realized he wasn’t telling them the truth. Not really. It wasn’t only Nels’ parents who were in pain. It was these two men as well. He didn’t know how the real truth, his truth, would go but he might as well try.

“Can we start over?” the pastor said quietly. “I have something I need to share.”

Both men sat back and nodded woodenly.

“A friend of mine recently passed away. He was my best friend at the university, my roommate in fact. Stephan was one of the most generous, fun loving, loyal people I’ve ever met,” Gus began. His heart was breaking as he thought of him.

“Stephan was also a man who loved other men. In fact, he didn’t like women at all. It bothered me for a time until I realized he was happy being with them. There was one man in particular he was with that made him so happy. His name was Karl, Karl Kertbeny. He was a reporter and a writer.”

Gus looked up at the men. Sven looked pensive while Nels was openly curious, so he continued.

“Stephan was very friendly and met other men who also liked to be with men. They would gather in our little apartment and talk about philosophy and politics and religion. There were two men, in particular, that I remember being very special. Peter and Wolfgang were their names and they were a couple. They were like husband and wife. At first it really bothered me and I asked them if they weren’t concerned about God’s law. I remember Peter laughing at me and said, ‘If God didn’t want me to be this way, he wouldn’t have given me Wolfie.”

Sven and Nels were both looking at him dumbfounded, mouths hanging open.

“You mean there’s others like, like that?” Nels said but Sven gave him a silencing look.

“Oh yes. Stephan, Karl, Peter and Wolfgang weren’t the only men like that. In fact, Karl invented a word for them. He hated when people called them buggers or sodomites. He said what they did to express their feelings wasn’t an adequate description. He called men who fall in love with other men ‘homosexelles.”

“Why are you telling us dis?” Sven asked but he was no longer angry or scared. He actually sounded a little interested.

“I’m sorry. It’s a walk down memory lane for me. I have no one except Helena to talk to about the past. With Stephan’s passing, I feel like that part of my life is over. It just makes me sad,” Gus said but he was looking at Nels.

“Anyway, back to my question Nels. I’m wondering what to tell your mother. Just answer me this, do you feel your soul is in danger?”

The blonde man fidgeted for a minute as he thought. “No. That’s why God made Sven. He made him for me.”

Gus could see there were tears in both men’s eyes. Sven cleared his throat noisily. “Does dat answer your question Pastor Jager?”

“It does. Now show me this interesting experiment with fermented corn stalks. Some of the other farmers are quite envious. The cows are producing more they say?”

“Let’s show you,” Sven said. Nels led the way.

After looking at the silage and the stock, Gus left feeling happier than he had for some time. A weight had been lifted. He’d finally told them the truth.

Sven looked at Nels with such happiness, he could hardly stop himself. Nels couldn’t. He kissed Sven and held him tight. “We’re not alone. There are others,” he whispered.

 

http://www.policy.hu/takacs/pdf-lib/TheDoubleLifeOfKertbeny.pdfe