Bonds of Earth Read Online Free PDF Page A

in the first bed carefully pulling up weeds when he looked up and saw her standing at the opposite edge. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again when she too dropped to her knees and began copying him. He watched her for a couple of minutes, but she picked out the weeds easily, pulling up the whole plant with the roots and avoiding the perennials. They worked together without saying a word to one another until Abbott called for her.
    She stood up and brushed the loose dirt from her skirts. “I can help you after school,” she said in a high yet strong voice.
    “I’d like that,” Michael said carefully. “Thank you.”
    She nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer, then ran off toward her grandfather, who was waiting for her beside the motorcar. Michael stared after her, feeling humbled by her simple and inexplicable display of trust, as though a wild animal had just emerged from the forest and taken a crust of bread from his open hand.
     
     
    B Y S ATURDAY at sunset, Michael had weeded and mulched the flowerbeds surrounding the back and sides of the house and prepared a new vegetable and herb garden near the kitchen. On Monday, he would see if he could drive into town—by himself, he hoped—and place orders for seed and fertilizer. Mary had told him Hudson, a few miles to the south, had a feed and grain store with a wide range of flower and vegetable seeds available, and that she would telephone ahead to let them know he could charge whatever he wished to the household account.
    Saturday night found him lying in his bed yearning for the distractions of the city. Millie had given him every other Saturday off, and he’d spent it as he wished, usually in the bed of someone warm, willing, and well heeled. The week before last he’d had a beautiful young man who’d claimed to be a playwright. He had a huge flat in the Forties, a bar stocked with very fine cognac, and a mouth that was made for cocksucking. They’d agreed to meet again tonight, and damn it all, Michael had completely forgotten to get in touch with him before leaving.
    He felt a small twinge of regret, because it wasn’t likely he’d have another such opportunity at any point in the near future. In addition to every Sunday, his current job afforded him one weekend a month completely to himself, but by the time he took the train back into the city and found a likely prospect, it would almost be time to head back again. No doubt he’d go when he got the chance, but it almost seemed more trouble than it was worth and a taunting reminder of all that he was giving up. He didn’t want to be another yokel visitor to New York on the lookout for a fast fuck; he wanted to walk its streets and know that he belonged there.
     
    His first time comes when he’s fifteen. He’s been slipping away to the fairy dives for nearly a year, avoiding the roving gangs of Irish, Polish, and Italian boys that troll the streets of the Bowery at night and sneaking in through the kitchens to watch the drag shows, the parades of color and life and laughter. The waiters recognize a young up-and-comer and allow him to mooch off the half-empty plates before they’re cleaned, looking the other way when he downs the warm dregs of a beer glass.
    He falls helplessly in lust with one of the waiters, a tall, strapping Polack with the palest blue eyes he’s ever seen. It takes him months of careful observation and study—not to mention the time to grow into his skin—to feel confident enough to approach him. Sebastian is reluctant at first, but Michael convinces him with his hands and his mouth and his eager, responsive body that he knows exactly what he wants.
    When Sebastian shoves him roughly against the brick wall out back of the music hall and pushes inside him, Michael knows there’s no way he can go back home to Paddy’s beatings and that cramped tenement stinking of cabbage. For better or for worse, this is his life now.
     
    Frustration shoved his hand under