One

Alfred Franklin Jones woke up at the break of dawn, just as he did every morning, to water the barn animals, milk the cows, and make breakfast. As he looked out the oval window of his attic bedroom, he saw his Pa already out in the fields, preparing the ground for planting. The seventeen-year-old rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hurried to wash his face before bundling up. It was still a bit chilly for late April, but as he burst outside, he could feel the sun on his face and the cool air biting his cheeks simultaneously, and it didn't matter anymore. He was in his element out of doors, and it showed in the sparkle in his eyes, the rosy flush on his tanned skin, and the muted smile on his lips.

He briskly headed for the barn to begin his chores, coming back out roughly an hour later with mud on his boots and straw in his hair. His clothes were a bit dirtier than before, and the front of his left pants leg was soaked, but he whistled a merry tune as he headed for the house with two bottles of milk cradled in his arms.

He left his boots at the door, set the milk in the refrigerator, and headed upstairs to shower, peeling off his jacket on the way.

After a quick shower, he changed into a clean pair of denim jeans and a plaid shirt over a tee. Then he jogged down the stairs to get started on breakfast. This morning, it was hash browns, toast, and big fat wads of sausage. He set a pitcher of fresh milk on the table and surveyed the fields through the kitchen window as he waited for his dad.

When the old man finally arrived, he went to clean up before returning to the dining table in fresh clothes. They said grace and ate, occasionally discussing matters both trivial and of import.

After breakfast, the older Jones headed out again to tend to the sheep in the pasture, while Alfred did the dishes. As soon as the boy was done, however, he slapped on his hat and went out to join his Pa.

By the time lunch rolled around, they were again both rather filthy and smelling of sheep and grass. Alfred's father, a tall, hefty man with graying blonde hair, and a ruggedly handsome face, was still amidst the sheep, checking to make sure that the pregnant ewes were fine. Alfred was already sprinting toward the jeep, ready to go home and eat lunch. When he saw a figure leaning against the jeep, his eyes narrowed in suspicion and he readied himself for a confrontation, until it became apparent to him that the figure had a friend and they both wore familiar faces.

"Beth!" he exclaimed excitedly, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he picked up his pace. He greeted the dark-haired woman with a giant bear hug, before gently putting her down. "Sure haven't seen you two in a while." He glanced at the younger woman and tipped his hat. "Hey, Leanne," he said with a bashful smile. Leanne smiled in return and stepped up to give him a hug. "Hey, Alfie."

When she finally had the chance to, Beth reached for Alfred's cheeks and gave them a good pinch, saying, "Look at you. Build like a tree and handsome as sin. Goodness me, and it's only been half a year! You've really grown up, haven't ya?" She paused to regard him fondly, before catching sight of the older Jones approaching them. "But you look so thin," she said loudly, patting his cheek. "Ooh, that old man of yours better be feeding you right. I promised him a good whooping if he didn't follow my advice and take care of ya properly."

Alfred laughed and said, "Don't cha worry, Beth. I'm doing good." The two women regarded him with twinkling eyes, and his gaze joyfully flitted from mother to daughter, until they heard footsteps behind them.

As their gaze all turned to the older man, the air began to crackle with energy. Alfred realized too late that Beth and his Pa were sizing each other up, as if ready for a throw down. He and Leanne stood unsurely where they were, sharing concerned glances, until the two adults burst out laughing and shared a bone-crushing hug. Alfred was alarmed to see Beth swallowed up by his father's thick arms, but then he realized that they were talking in each other's ears, and he felt his own ears heat up as he tried to decide on the best course of action—leave or stay? Awh, God, they were kissing already. Leave, definitely leave. He hastily grabbed Leanne's arm and started toward the direction of the house. "We'll leave you two to catch up!" he hollered over his shoulder.

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After a hearty dinner of steak and biscuits followed by fresh servings of kidney pie, the two women cleared out the table while the Jones men retired to the living room to digest their food and talk. The television in the corner featured a rerun of Superboy, filling the otherwise silent room with its muted drone.

"Beth wants to settle here," Archer Ryland Jones began, taking a swig of beer. Still buzzed with leftover excitement from their guests' arrival and feeling lethargic, warm, and full from Beth's homemade cooking, Alfred could only nod in reply.

"Tha's great," he replied a moment later. "Maybe she could visit more often and feed us. I reckon we'd be needin' new trousers by the end o' the month, if she did." He smiled as he stared at the flickering flames in the hearth.

Archer took another deep sip from his flask, before clearing his throat and saying, "No, Alfred. I mean Beth wants to settle here here."

Alfred was quiet, his expression refusing to betray any of his emotions. Then he let out a long sigh and said, "Oh...Ohh."

They could hear the women's muted chatter coming from the kitchen, along with the clink of dishes and the sound of running water. Alfred decided that he could live with the noise. It was cozy and made their old house feel more homey somewhat. "Yeah, okay," he said after a long while.

As if surprised, Archer turned his head to look at his son. Alfred just smiled and continued staring at the fire. "If it makes you happy, pop."

"Alfred, if you don't like it, you can tell me so. I ain't gonna force anything on you. Beth an' Leanne said they could lease a house a quarter of a mile from here, if you didn't agree with it. And they'd understand."

The blonde closed his eyes and let out another deep sigh. "Pop," he said. His lashes gleamed gold in the firelight and cast shadows across his cheeks. "I'm okay with it." He lifted his eyelids to glance at his Pa and flashed him a crooked smile. "Heck, ya don't even need ta ask. I love Beth, alright?" He settled more comfortably in his seat and added, "In fact, I'll be eighteen soon, and I'll tell you now. You'll be having tough competition for that beautiful specimen of a woman, just you wait."

Archer allowed himself a relieved breath, before resuming his cool façade and throwing a wadded napkin at his son's head. "Get your own damn woman, ya cheeky brat."

Alfred chuckled as he rubbed his head, heart sinking when his gaze strayed to the portrait of his mother on the wall. It was what she would have wanted, he knew—for them to move on. But it still felt like betrayal, it still felt as though they were replacing her.

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The following week was busier than usual. Between adjusting to having two more members in the household, helping his Pa out in the fields, and keeping up with his chores, Alfred was plain wiped out at the end of each day.

The first couple of days had been the hardest. Beth and Leanne were used to life in a ranch, not a farm. Although they strived to be as helpful as possible by tending the barn animals and attempting to use simple farm contraptions, their inexperience showed. Alfred had tried to teach them, but it was rather hopeless and only cut into the time he could have used doing his chores. In the end, Archer decided that the two women were less harm to themselves and to the animals if they stayed indoors and stuck to the jobs they were capable of doing.

So, Beth graciously accepted the role of homemaker and finance manager, while Leanne took to caring for the two horses in the barn and nurturing a vegetable garden in the back. Compared to the men's workload, theirs was much less demanding. All the same, the Jones men appreciated their help and soon eased into a daily routine: work, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, bonding time, sleep, and repeat.

As the spring wore on, the ewes gave birth to lambs and the earth grew green with life. The farm was busier than ever, as Archer and Alfred alternated between taking care of the sheep and tilling the thousand five-hundred acres of land for planting season. Luckily, Beth was capable enough in handling the lambs when the veterinarian came for their shots. Leanne momentarily took over cooking duties since her mother was occupied with caring for the newborns and managing the expenses.

When the planting season was over, there were comparably less chores to do, which was just as well, for school was starting and Alfred only needed one more year to get his diploma. He wasn't really intending on going anywhere after high school—there were too many things to do in the farm and he already knew everything he had to know—but he still wanted to at least have his high school diploma.

So, when Alfred went back to school, his father managed the hardy work until he returned home from school; Beth continued managing their finances and mothering them; and Leanne helped whenever she could, while job hunting in town.

The rest of the year continued in a similar fashion until Alfred graduated the March of the following year. When he finally got his diploma, his Pa gave him a frame to hang it on and Beth threw a little feast to celebrate his success. Then, things resumed as before. Work, breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, bonding time, sleep, and repeat. Life on the farm was peaceful, if a bit tedious and repetitive, and Alfred figured he liked it that way.

That is, until he discovered something that made him question his conviction.

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It was June, a couple of months past his graduation and roughly a year after Beth and Leanne moved in, and the day was clear as a bell with not a cloud in sight. A slight chill hung in the air, but the sun shone brightly and warmed the rooftop of the house and the sheep in the nearby pasture. Archer Jones and Bethany Moore were picnicking under a beech tree near the grazing sheep, their hushed talk only audible to the ladybugs that lazily fluttered about their picnic blanket.

Farther into the field, Alfred was riding astride his mare, a white Andalusia with a glossy, black mane and a gray patch on its hindquarters that Alfred insisted was shaped like the USA.

Archer raised a hand and the silhouette of the rider in the distance did a smooth turn, before galloping towards the beech tree, careful not to bother the sheep. Alfred slowed to a stop as he approached the blanket and deftly jumped off the horse while it was still moving, earning a shout from his father. He comforted his mare with soothing words and a scratch behind the ear as he tied her reins to a branch. Then, he turned to his father with a sheepish grin and plopped down on the blanket. Before Archer could scold him for such a risky stunt, Beth dropped a plate on his lap and began to stack it with food, all the while chattering about the weather and the upcoming spring fair and Alfred's approaching eighteenth birthday.

Alfred welcomed her mothering with a smile and replied to her questions with ease, knowing that by the time they finished, Archer would have forgotten what he was going to scold Alfred for. When Alfred finished his lunch, he jumped up and went to unknot his mare. "I'm gonna go put Mira back in the barn now," he said, giving them a departing salute. "Your food was scrumptious, as always, ma'am. I'll be back in a bit, pops."

He walked Mira down the elevated rise, careful not to let her trip on the tree roots. When he finally reached the bottom, he heard his name being called.

"Go find Leanne and bring her here, would ya, sugar? I don't know where that girl's gone. She was supposed to be here ages ago," Beth said.

Alfred waved at her and said, "Will do," before going on his way.

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After making sure Mira was settled in her stall, Alfred started his search for Leanne. He was rounding the bend of the house when he saw it—an expensive-looking red car with gleaming rims and a tinted windshield. Alfred felt himself drool and hastily wiped his mouth before looking around for its owner. Seeing no one around, he approached it and tried to peer in through the driver's seat, but only succeeded in seeing his own reflection, which made him grimace—he looked filthy. He circled the car for a few more minutes, eyes bright with desire, before reluctantly leaving it for Leanne.

Deciding he'd better check her room first, he headed for the house and skipped up the stairs two at a time. He had forgotten to take off his shoes and so he made quiet a racket. It wasn't a surprise then that he didn't hear it until he reached the top landing of the staircase—muffled thumping and the sound of someone in pain. Alarmed, Alfred ran for Leanne's room and burst through the door, ready to beat her attacker black and blue until what he saw registered to his brain.

There were simultaneous shouts, plenty of flailing limbs, and a hasty repositioning of bed covers. Much to Alfred's chagrin, a better part of the shouting and flailing came from him. He backed away until he fell on his rump outside Leanne's door, staring at the bed with wide, horrified eyes.

"Alfred, get out!"

The command made him scramble to his feet and run down the stairs, face as red as a beet. He waited at the bottom step, unwillingly replaying the scene over and over in his head. He was beyond mortified—and not just because he accidentally burst into Leanne's room and caught her having sex with a stranger, but because…because…Alfred sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and breathed out slowly.

He was hard.

And he was pretty damn sure it wasn't because of Leanne. His view of her had been largely obstructed by a solid, chiseled back, impossibly narrow hips, sinewy thighs, and perfectly firm buttocks. He shivered when the image of rippling muscles and glistening skin appeared in his mind's eye.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," Alfred hissed under his breath.

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By the time Leanne found Alfred, the stranger was long gone and the stars were out. Predictably, Alfred was hiding in the abandoned tree house far out on the other side of the field. She clambered up the stairs and plopped down in front of him with a light frown. "Beth was looking for you. We already ate dinner."

"…what did you guys eat?"

"Lamb chops. An' Archer an' me ate every bite of it."

"Oh." Alfred looked at her glumly.

Leanne rolled her eyes and reached out to ruffle his hair, but he ducked away, so she crossed her arms and pretended to be unaffected by his reaction. "Just jokin'. Beth made sure to set aside some for you."

"Who was that, Leanne?" Alfred asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

Leanne had the grace to blush. "A new friend."

"Do ya make new friends often?" Alfred asked suspiciously.

"Aw, Jesus, Alfie. It's nothing, a'right? Everyone does it."

At this, Alfred frowned. "Beth doesn't."

"'course she doesn't. She's got Archer."

Alfred couldn't think up a reply, but his frown remained.

Leanne tsk'd and nudged his foot. "This is what happens when you're too sheltered."

"What's that supposed ta mean?"

"Boys your age ought to be out there, doing things."

"But I am doing things," Alfred replied indignantly. "I help Pa with the sheep, and I take care of Mira, and swim in the stream, and dance with the girls at parties…I do plenty, Leanne."

"Not those kinds of things, you simpleton. Don't cha ever imagine life outside yer daddy's farm? Don't tell me you plan on stayin' here forever?"

Alfred flushed and sputtered, "What's wrong with that?"

Leanne sighed and stared at Alfred. "Nothin' at all…but you know, there's so much more you could do, if only you'd step outta this darn farm for once in your life."

"Like what?" Alfred challenged, raising a brow.

"Like…like," Leanne made varying hand gestures, before finally throwing her hands in the air. "You could go to Hollywood! Be an actor. Or Florida! Be a lifeguard, or somethin'. You can swim, can't you? And you've got the body for it. Heck, I bet you can even try to be model! You've got a nice enough face. Just…do something!"

Alfred broke out laughing.

"It's not funny! I'm tryin' to be serious here!" Leanne exclaimed, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

"Well, I can't help it," Alfred said between giggles. "You're being funny."

Leanne crossed her arms with a huff and said, "I'm serious, Al."

Once he was sobered up, Alfred leaned against the wall and smiled at her. "Alright. You're serious. But why're you telling me all this now?"

Leanne shrugged. "Who knows?"

They were quiet for a moment, until Alfred spoke up. "Is that what he was? A model?" He flushed at his own boldness.

"Who?"

Alfred coughed into his hand. "Your new friend."

"Oh. Funny you should mention that. He did say he was here for a photo shoot and got lost on the way there. Maybe he is… Why so curious?"

"Nothin'," Alfred hastily replied. "Is it easy, ya think? Being a model, I mean."

Leanne rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Well, I mean, how hard can it be? You just gotta pose and look good, right? Why? Are you thinking about it?"

Alfred squirmed. "No. Maybe. I don't know." He saw a flash of teeth in the darkness and swallowed.

"I have some fashion magazines you could look at." Leanne said, sounding decidedly gleeful.

"I'm not really planning on it, ya know."

"Sure, Alfie."

"Honestly!"

"Okay."

"I just wanna see what it's like!"

"Okay."

"You don't believe me."

Leanne smiled again. "I didn't say that."

"…"

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Beth didn't ask why she found a stack of fashion magazines under Alfred's bed while she was cleaning his room. She didn't ask why Leanne started taking Alfred out to buy new clothes in town. She didn't ask why she often found him looking things up in the computer—things like modeling auditions and Milan—rather than enjoying the summer weather out in the fields. She didn't ask because Alfred was growing up and she knew boys grew up different. Sometimes she suspected her daughter had something to do with Alfred's new interests, but she didn't pay much mind to it because at least Alfred wasn't out gallivanting with the wrong sort of people or doing illegal things. That was good enough for her.

As for Archer, he was too busy taking care of his farm and being pampered by Beth to take much notice of his son's odd behavior. Alfred seemed happy, and to Archer, that meant there was nothing to worry about.

It was the last week of June when Alfred approached them with his eyes cast down and his teeth set on his bottom lip, looking the very picture of a teenager who wanted something.

Archer, who apparently knew what that look meant, raised a thin brow and set aside his paper to cross his arms over his chest. "Whaddaya want, kid?"

"Pa…I want ta go ta Nashville this weekend."

Archer's brow furrowed in confusion. "What for, son?"

At this, Alfred shuffled his feet and nervously wet his lips. "A casting call."

"A what?"

"A model casting, sir. I want to be a model," Alfred reiterated with a stubborn set to his jaw and a determined look in his eyes.

tbc