Alan stood in the kitchen, phone to his ear. After the warnings, he had come right in and called his father, who was in the next county at a Farmer's association meeting.
"Yeah, we finished the cellar this morning. Yeah, Ray is moving the tractor inside right now. Okay... Yeah... No, I don't think you should drive back today, Pa. Least wait until the tornado warning's over."
"That could be tomorrow or next month," came Noah's voice through the phone. "Longer I wait, hotter it'll get. And if a tornado decides to rip through—"
"It'll catch you on the road."
Noah sighed at the tone of his son's voice. "I'll wait till the sun goes down," he finally conceded. "You boys stay inside. Don't let Ray go out to that garage, now, he'll cook."
"I'm only one man, Pa," Alan said, making his father give an amused grunt. "Be safe."
"You, too, son."
Without hanging up the phone, Alan ended the call and dialed another number, just as Ray came through the kitchen door. "Pa's staying in Tyler's Landing till nightfall," Alan said, as he did. "We're not going back into the fields until the heatwave breaks. Mrs. Mason?" he said into the phone. "It's Alan."
Ray sat at the table as Alan made call after call, checking in on his friends and neighbors. No one needed telling about the warnings, or how to prepare for them, they'd been doing that their whole lives. It was about the importance of keeping the lines of communication open and being ready to lend a helping hand when needed.
As Alan hung up the last call, he sighed heavily.
"You okay?" Ray asked.
He glanced up at Ray, who pushed a glass of juice at him across the table. "It's not my first warning," he said, sitting down. "And it won't be my last."
"Doesn't make it any less scary," Ray said.
"If only most of the men hadn't left for the association meeting, we—" His next words were cut off by the ringing of the phone. Quickly getting to his feet, he reached out and lifted the receiver to his ear before his body caught up. "Hello? Mrs. Geary, what is it?" He listened, frowning. "Alright," he said. "I'll go check on him. Okay." He hung up.
"I'll go check," Ray said, getting out of his chair. "Who am I checking on?"
"Dusty," Alan said, a smile pulling his lips even in his worry. "Likes to sleep on the porch when he drinks."
"Bring the old man in out of the sun. Got it," Ray said, making Alan give a breathy chuckle. "Matter of fact, you stay here, and just call and let me know where to go."
"You sure?"
"We only have the one jeep, and they'll feel better talking to you. I'm the hired help, so let me help."
Alan gave an appreciative smile, watching as Ray collected the keys from the wall hook and went out the kitchen door into the unrelenting heat of afternoon.
*
Ray was out for most of the afternoon, making general wellness checks on the other farmer's wives. They were apprehensive about his presence, at first, but after he dragged Dusty inside and set a fan on him, and corralled little Gillian's escaped pet ducks, they became grateful. He was offered drinks and bread and pastries, and a few even invited him inside, but he wisely declined those.
His last stop was Mrs. Geary, a big, stern woman with iron grey hair coifed on top of her head. Alan had sent him because she was the type to look out for everyone else and not herself. "Humph," she said, standing on her porch and looking him over with a critical eye. "We'll make a farmer out of you yet, Cowboy."
"Just call me Farmer Ray," Ray called, grinning and tipping an imagery hat to her, which made her humph again, but a smile tugged at her pursed lips.
*
Alan crossed the yard that radiated up heat like a furnace, heading towards the garage. Even in the shade it was over a hundred degrees, and inside the metal structure the hot air collected so thickly that he felt like he was walking into a wall of heat. Yet there was Ray, on his back under the old tan truck with his legs sticking out.
Just inside the door Bear lifted his head, and Alan rubbed it to keep him from barking. As Bear returned to sleep, Alan slowed and quieted his steps. Covered by the sound of the truck radio playing an old country song and the clank of tools, he leaned over the open hood. "How's it coming?"
The legs jerked as a loud curse and the clanking of a falling wrench followed. "Damnit, Alan!" Ray said. "Were you a ghost in your last life? Sneaking up and scaring people like that."
Alan laughed. "Pa said not to let you out here," he said, nudging Ray's leg sticking out from under the truck with his toe. "Come out before I tell on you."
Ray slid out from under the truck, rubbing his shoulder where the wrench had fallen. "Narc," he said.
Alan held out a hand, and Ray took it. Alan pulled, and either he misjudged the strength needed, or Ray wasn't ready, but Ray came up quickly and off balance, staggering a few steps into him. Their bodies collided, and Ray's hand came around Alan to catch his balance, landing in the small of Alan's back. Their faces inches apart, Alan felt Ray's hot breath on his sweaty neck, and his nose filled with the strong scent of oil, sweat, and dust.
"Been in the heat too long," Ray muttered, shaking his head. "Thanks."
Alan averted his face as Ray stepped back and released him. "When—" He cleared his throat. "When did you get back?"
"Not too long ago," Ray said, wiping his hands on a rag. "After I got my ducks in a row," he chuckled. "You were on the phone."
"So you snuck out here to work on the truck?"
"I didn't sneak," Ray said, but he could not keep a straight face, and rubbed the back of his neck as he laughed. "Sorry," he said, with a tilted, dimpled smile. "Couldn't help myself. Were you looking for me? Need something?" he asked, turning away to pack up the scattered tools.
Alan watched him as he moved around the truck. He was in a green tank top, and his bare arms were streaked with grease and dust, his black hair even more slicked back with sweat. "I was looking for Bear," he said. "To give him a—" He stopped and glanced back at the dog, who when he heard his name, raised his head to look at them.
Straightening up, Ray glanced at Alan, then at the dog. "Oh," he said. "To do that."
Alan nodded. "It'll take a lot of sweat, and probably some blood and tears. You in?"
"I don't get out of bed for anything less."
*
"He's breaking my heart, Alan," Ray said.
"Be strong, Ray," Alan said. "Remember it's for his own good."
"But—"
"Here," Alan said, handing him a bottle. "Just one more shampoo and we'll be done."
Ray sighed as he took the bottle. "Hang in there, buddy," he said.
The two young men were on their knees beside the clawfoot tub, washing a sudsy Bear who looked like he wanted to die. Done in cheerful yellow and brown tile, the bathroom was fairly large, with a sink and toilet along the back wall, and the full length tub along the right wall. Drawn yellow lace curtains of the window above the toilet let in bright beams of sunlight and a view of the swaying yellow corn below, almost like an extended piece of décor.
Bear sat still in the tub, but his eyes blinked beseechingly at them, and he whined and pawed at their hands as they scrubbed his body. Alan was immune to this pathetic display, but it was taking all Ray had not to pick Bear up and run.
"Hold on, B," Ray said, rallying. "You're doing good. After this I'll cook you some bacon."
Beside him, Alan sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. Rubbing Bear comfortingly around the neck, Ray glanced at the other young man. The worry was clean in his face and voice. Even though he'd weathered many tornados and heatwaves in his twenty-two years, that didn't mean they got any easier. Ray was uneasy as well, but it wasn't the same. He didn't have as much to lose as Alan.
Their hands scrubbed through the fur, which had already shed for the season, Ray on the body and Alan carefully washing the face, avoiding Bear's eyes and ears. He stood to unhook the showerhead and turned on the water, testing the temperature before turning it on Bear.
"Doesn't that feel good?" Alan said to the dog. "Hey!"
For Ray had turned lowered his hand under the stream of water and flicked his wrist, splashing Alan. Alan cried out as the cool water hit his face, twisting his head away, then looking at Ray incredulously.
"What?" Ray said, snickering. "You said it felt good."
Alan gave a breathy scoff. "It's too hot to play," he said.
"If a heatwave ain't the time to play in water, when is?" Ray said. He splashed him again.
"You're getting the floor wet," Alan said, even as he laughed and turned away, letting the water splash his t-shirt instead, turning the olive-green fabric darker in great splotches.
"Stay still then," Ray said.
Alan flinched away, then without warning turned the full showerhead on Ray, catching him by surprise. When he turned it away, Ray's green tank top and jeans were soaked through.
"Whew!" Ray said, wiping his face and wet hair back. "That's what I'm talking about."
While the boys laughed, Bear sat dripping in the tub, unamused. They rinsed and towel dried him, then brushed his coat out.
"Can you get the grooming kit?" Alan called over the noise of the blow drier as he dried Bear. "In my nightstand, bottom drawer."
Patting Bear on the back, Ray stood and made his way outside. They were in the second floor bathroom, which was really just Alan's bathroom, as the master bedroom had its own. From the stairs, a carpeted hallway ended at a larger oval window, flanked by two heavy weathered grey doors. On the left was the upstairs bathroom, and opposite was Alan's room.
Stepping across the hall, Ray pushed through the open door. Inside was a four-poster bed made of dark, heavy oak, covered with a checkered blue comforter. On the right was a matching oak nightstand, an old bureau, and a chest of drawers, while the entire left wall was taken over by two enormous windows with drapes matching the bedspread. Warm, bright sunlight spilled onto the blue carpet and the bed.
Ray found the grooming kit, a black zippered case, and bent to retrieve them. When he stood, his gaze flicked to the bed. Under the pillow was the corner of a book. He chuckled lasciviously, glancing behind him before reaching out and sliding the book out. Instead of some something explicit, however, what he held was actually the book he'd borrowed—and completely forgotten about—from Judith.
He turned it over thoughtfully in his hands, tugging at the receipt for gas that was being used as a bookmark, placed almost halfway through. The last time he could remember seeing this book was when he'd left it on the dining room table the night he came home with it.
"Did you get lost or something?" came Alan's voice, floating in from across the hall.
Slipping the book back under the pillow, Ray took the zippered case and left. Back in the bathroom, he handed the case to Alan, then stood at the sink and examined his wet hair in the mirror. "You up for another cut and wash?" he asked, brushing long strands behind his ear.
Alan, scissors in hand, glanced up at Ray's back, his gaze falling on the flex of muscles visible by his tank top. "Cut's free, but the wash'll cost ya."
"I'm already wet," Ray said. "And you already seen me in my birthday suit. That knock anything off?"
"Price just doubled."
"Shylock," Ray said, turning to nudge him over with his foot.
Catching his balance on the floor with one hand, Alan laughed.
"I need a drink after this," Ray said, tossing the towels into the hamper.
"I have bad news," Alan said. "We're out of beer."
Ray's expression was so stricken Alan laughed.
"Please, say you're joking," Ray said.
"Sorry."
On the floor with Bear, evening up any longer hair with a pair of scissors, Alan watched as Ray braced his hands on the sink and dropped his head in despair. He smiled and shook his head, then turned back to Bear. After the clipping, he checked Bear's nails, but being an outside dog meant they were shaved down naturally.
Smoothing his hands over Bears head, he held the dog's face and looked down into the liquid brown eyes. "There, all done. You were a good boy, Bear. Mwah!" He kissed the face.
As soon as Bear was released, he bolted. Getting to his feet, Alan went to the distraught young man. "Shall we?" he asked, lifting the scissors and snipping it ominously towards Ray's hair.
"Do what you want," Ray said lifelessly. "Life has no meaning anymore."
Alan patted the strong shoulder. "Come with me," he said. "And I'll give it new meaning."