Last of the Summer Tomatoes by Sherrie Henry Page A

looking for different designs that move people faster, farther, and safer.”
    “I had no idea.”
    “It’s the simplest of things that can require the most reengineering.”
    “That’s cool. Hey, um, if you are ever in the city to do some research or something, we could meet up, do lunch or coffee or something.” Kyle felt like an idiot, but the words just kept coming out.
    “That would be nice. I do have to do an internship. Would be nice to know someone if I get one in New York.”
    All too soon, they rounded the drive to the house. “Well, back home, safe and sound. Just about time for dinner. Wanna show off our battle wounds to Mom?”
    Kyle gave him a wry smile. “Won’t she think it’s juvenile to show off cartoon Band-Aids?”
    “Nah, she expects it. You know, she has some Transformers Band-Aids in the first aid kit, if you ever want one.”
    “Transformers?”
    “She doesn’t want her baby to grow up. Sometimes it’s nice, other times it drives me crazy. But it shows she loves me, ya know?”
    “She’s been cool.”
    “She’s the coolest mother around. Let’s go in and see what grub she’s whipped up.”
    After a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, Kyle excused himself to go soak in the tub. Two days into this gig, and Glenda was right. He was feeling muscles in places he didn’t know he had muscles. The hot water felt good against his skin, the steamy air warmed his face and hands that weren’t in the water. He closed his eyes, suddenly seeing Sam’s face. He knew he shouldn’t entertain any thoughts, but his mind refused to behave. The dream came back to him, and before he knew it, his body had responded in its usual way, and he took care of it in the usual way. But instead of feeling sated, he felt emptier than ever.
    He padded back to his room and shut himself in, keeping a fragile hold on his emotions. His mind kept flashing back to the scene in the barn, in the truck, how Sam seemed to care for him. He needed a quick dose of reality; he booted up the laptop, logged in, and sent an e-mail off to Billy, telling him how much he was learning, that the family he was staying with was awesome. Nothing like where they had come from. Nothing like Hank.

Eight

     
     
    T HE two weeks ended with no more events or accidents. Kyle had become more proficient in getting the cows milked each morning, to the point Walt let him do it on his own. While Kyle was with the cows, Sam and Walt had a greenhouse project they were working on so Glenda could have fresh vegetables and herbs year-round. The frame was up. It was amazing to watch a building being built from the ground up.
    Sam had him ride Bess a couple more times, teaching him how to canter, which Kyle thought was just a slow run. But it was much more comfortable than the trot and much easier on the balls, that was for certain. They hadn’t had much time to be alone and talk, which in retrospect was fine with Kyle. He couldn’t be pining for someone unattainable, especially for another three months.
    And now it was Sunday, a day of rest. Sure, they still had to milk the cows, but other than that and watering the garden, everyone was given the day off. Walt had settled in the living room to watch a baseball game, and Glenda was reading in the little nook they called the library. Kyle had settled down on his bed to do some drawing when Sam knocked on his door.
    “Yo, Kyle. You know how to swim?”
    “Yeah, my high school had a pool. All of us had to learn.”
    “Good. You bring trunks?”
    “Um, no. Didn’t think I’d need them.”
    “Hang on.” Sam retreated to his room. Kyle could hear drawers opening and closing, then footsteps back to his room. A pair of red swim trunks landed on his lap. “These are an old pair of mine, they should fit ya. Let’s go down to the creek for a swim.”
    “The creek?”
    “No pools around here. The creek is clean. It’s where we all learned how to swim. It’s not too deep, I think only six feet at the