Date: Sat, 4 May 2013 22:55:02 -0700 (PDT)
From: ritchchristopher@att.net
Subject: Echoes From a Wishing Well-Chapter One--revised

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>


		       "Echoes from a Wishing Well"

			 Copyright Ritchris, 2007
			(Revised Copyright,  2013)


				  A Story

				    by

			     Ritch Christopher


				<><><><><>


				Chapter One


				<><><><><>


        Opening night of a new musical on New York City's Broadway has
always been a source of excitement. The lights, the traffic, taxi horns
blaring their importance, black-tie'd gentlemen escorting their ladies,
each hoping to outdo the others in terms of beauty, clothing, (be it
authentique or faux haute coiture), is there such a thing as faux haute
coiture? Of course there is. I've seen T.J. Maxx's t.v. commercials; furs,
and jewelry. They all painted a picture that could be seen nowhere else in
the world...all at the same time. Only on the Great White Way could one see
the crowds, inhale the scent of perfumes from around the world mixed with
the godawful aroma of subway fumes rising through the grates between the
curb and the sidewalks, and feel the electricity in the air---the tension,
the anticipation of just being 'there' for the first public presentation of
a brand new show! The amount of electrical power it took to light up the
streaming, block long Broadway ads, the marquees, restaurants, and gyp
joint pawn shops on B'way between W.52nd and W.42nd could probably light up
the entire city of Newark, New Jersey And as if that by itself wasn't
enough, the newest show was a Barnes and Barger show---the first opus
creation by the famous writing team in almost fifteen years!  Critics from
New York and from around the world were being escorted to their designated
aisle seats, some carrying pen and paper, others with cellphones or
BlackBerries, each ready to give his stamp of approval on the new offering
or to declare a death sentence. Barnes and Barger? Did they still have
their magic or had the world of show business passed them by? Would their
kind of show music still satisfy a Broadway appetite? Even a legend such as
Stephen Sondheim had declared that Broadway was dead... murdered by the
'rock musical' with its mediocre monotony of tuneless songs and uninspired
and repetitive lyrics.

	Trent Matthews was standing in the wings between the in-one and
in-two curtains as the orchestra placed their instruments in position for
the conductor, Lionel Sedgwick, to give the downbeat for the overture to
begin. It was opening night for the brand new blustery musical, 'Echoes
From A Wishing Well', with music by Dean Barger and book and lyrics by
Cyrus Barnes, directed and choreographed by Arthur Whitman. The theatre
audience was buzzing as the major with a combination of exhaltation and
skepticism. Not only was it opening night of a new show, it was Trent's
opening night on Broadway.

	The first sound he heard was the roaring swell of kettle drums,
followed by a brass fanfare, then the orchestra jumped into a bouncy
number, 'I Gotcha Where I Wantcha!'. Chills running up and down his spine,
Trent thought he'd explode with exhilaration as the overture jumped to each
number from the show. His throat was dry and he knew once the overture had
finished, the curtain would raise and he would have to sing the opening
solo number, 'Bob, Bob, Bob, Little Bobwhite'. He knew the score and the
script backwards and forwards but, needless to say, he was scared out of
his mind. It had been about five years since he'd made his debut at the age
of fifteen, singing, "Send In The Clowns" for the freshman talent show at
the East Weston High School in Weston, Tennessee. At that young age, how
could he ever have dreamed, how could his imagination have allowed him to
think that, one day, he'd star in a Broadway Show?

	There's an old adage that says a person's life flashes before him
as he's drowning. Trent wasn't drowning, but his entire life seemed to
shoot before his eyes in fast-forward as he thought about the people in his
life who wouldn't or couldn't be there in the theatre to see him at this
crowning moment. His mother had died when Trent was thirteen years old and
his father had grieved himself to death over the loss of his only love and
had died the next year from acute melancholia. After their deaths, Trent
had been sent to live with his widowed grandmother, who would always be
Granny Dee to Trent, who lived her life just the way Jesus would. Beside
her bed, she kept a Bible and a copy of an 1896 book by Charles Sheldon,
'In His Steps', a book which had sold over thirty million copies to
Christians who lived their lives with the credo, 'What Would Jesus
Do?'. Trent had strayed from that doctrine many, many years ago and he was
quite sure that his Granny Dee, nor Jesus, Himself, would ever do what he
had done.

	Trent thought it seemed almost prophetic that he would star in a
show entitled, 'Echoes From A Wishing Well', since he had drawn water from
his granny's well the whole time he lived with her. When he had a penny, he
would drop it down the well and make a wish and put his head down to listen
to the coin drop. If it hit the water, his wish would come true, but if it
hit a stone on the side of the well, he'd have to make that same wish again
until it WOULD hit the water.

	One hot, sunny, Tennessee summer afternoon, Granny Dee had sent
Trent down the road to the one-stop 'general store' for her weekly tin of
Bruton's snuff. That was the only vice Dee had and she didn't really feel
it was a vice at all. There was no mention of snuff from Genesis to
Revelations in her good book. She always kept a little hickory twig about
three inches long in the side of her mouth while she was 'dipping'. The
stick was used to stir up the tobacco that was already in her mouth and
rout the rest of it out from under her lower false teeth.  It was at least
a two mile walk to the store and two miles back. To save his good clothes
and good shoes, Trent always wore his faded overalls with a hole in each
knee and he walked barefooted.

	On his way, he had to pass Vernon's Pond, a good place to fish from
the wooden pier or when no one else was around, a good place to go
skinny-dipping. Dee didn't mind Trent taking a quick swim; he WAS a good
swimmer and it was like a bonus to him for going to the store for her. He
also had to go by several small farmhouses...well, the houses weren't all
that small, but the land surrounding it was just big enough to raise enough
vegetables to grow, pick, and can for the winter, to feed one family.

	The third house on the right, halfway to the store, was inhabited
by two old country gentlemen...old? Say fifty, which was old to Trent
anyway...Their names? Cyrus Barnes and Dean Barger. The entire town of
Weston suspected that Cyrus and Dean were queer for each other, but they
kept quietly to themselves, attended church maybe three times a year, and
had never been accused of molesting children. So everyone accepted them
without apprehension, without fear of the two gay old men. They had few men
friends and often women would stop by just to be friendly or just to get
cuttings from Dean's prize roses and dahlias. For many years running,
Dean's roses and dahlias had taken the blue ribbon at the County Fair,
which was held each September. The few years that Dean hadn't entered the
contest, the blue, red, and white ribbons were all won by ladies who had
entered the flowers they had grown from cuttings from Dean's garden. So in
essence, Dean won every year, just the same.

	Dean and Cyrus were not native Tennesseans. Dean was from New York
and Cyrus, New Jersey. Supposedly, the two had worked in show business on
Broadway, but after conquering the Great White Way, both had chosen to
retire early in a small town in Tennessee. Neither of them worked and were
too young to receive Social Security and no one in Weston knew how much
money they had between them. Little did any of the neighbors know that Dean
and Cyrus had been successful song and lyric writers on Broadway...each
having two Tony Awards, two New York Drama Desk Critics Awards, plus a
nomination for a Pulitzer Prize!

	And so, on this afternoon while Trent was skinny dipping in the
pond, he began to sing out loud, 'Bali Hai will call you...'. Trent knew
all the songs from 'South Pacific' as he had borrowed the complete score
from his music teacher at Weston High. Trent was in rather good voice today
and he segued from one Rodgers and Hammerstein tunes to the next. His
favorite was 'You've Got To Be Taught' which dealt with
discrimination. Trent thought how daring it must have been for Oscar
Hammerstein to have written, 'you've got to be taught to be afraid of
people whose eyes are oddly made and people whose skin is a different
shade...'. New Yorkers and the critics must have been shocked when they
first heard it.

	Trent had no idea of the difference between a liberal and a
conservative, but he was a die-hard left-wing bleeding-heart liberal
without knowing it. Trent treated all his classmates the same...regardless
of their color or of how poor or rich they were.

	As he finished, 'Some Enchanted Evening', Trent heard the sound of
two hands clapping and a voice exclaiming, "BRAVO". Even though his
nakedness was hidden beneath the water, Trent turned around in
embarrassment for the fact someone had heard him singing so loudly. He
looked at the big elm tree from which the fishing pier led and saw Dean
Barger with a fishing pole and a can of worms beside him.

	"MR. BARGER!" Trent, all but shouted. "Did I scare all the fish
away?"

	"No, son...it's 'Trent', isn't it?"

	"Yessir, Trent Matthews, sir."

	"Your singing was wonderful."

	"Thank you, sir."

	"How old are you, Trent?"

	"Fifteen, sir. I'll be going into my sophomore year at Weston High
in the fall."

	"And then what? The University of Tennessee?"

	"No, sir. When I get out of high school, I want to go to New York
and audition for Broadway musicals."

	"You want to be a Broadway star, do you?"

	"Yessir."

	"I used to work on Broadway. Did you know that?"

	"Only rumors, sir. Not many people know much about you and
Mr. Barnes."

	"You ever hear of Barnes and Barger, the song-writing team?"

	"Yessir. My music teacher has a big collection of LP's. I've seen
Barnes and Barger on lots of them...Oh, Criminy! Don't tell me that you two
are THAT Barnes and Barger!!!"

	"The very same, Trent..."

	"Good grief! YOU'RE FAMOUS!"

	"Well, in some circles, I guess we are..."

	"Oh, gee! It's a positive honor to meet you, Mr. Barger!"

	"Call me Dean, if you don't mind?"

	"Are you sure YOU don't mind?"

	"Quite sure."

	"Maybe sometime I could come over and sing for you and
Mr. Barnes...or should I call him Cyrus?"

	"I think he'd be delighted if you did...and Trent, BOTH of us would
love for you to come sing for us. We have a huge grand piano in the living
room with lots and lots of music you could borrow."

	"Gosh! I don't know what to say..."

	"Well, your granny's name is 'Dee', isn't it?"

	"Yes sir."

	"Then get her permission first. I don't want you, OR us, getting
into some kind of trouble for going behind her back."

	"Oh, I don't keep no secrets from Granny Dee. Besides, if I did,
God would tell her anyway."

	Dean chuckled to himself at the youth's innocence and told him to
go back to his singing, that he himself still had fish to catch. Trent
wanted to jump up with glee at Dean's invitation, but thought it best not
to reveal his nudity in front of a stranger by jumping. The biggest
decision in Trent's life was now what songs to sing for Dean next. If only
he could remember some of the songs Dean and Cyrus had composed
together. Trent was positive there were several scores of theirs on the
piano at school...but WHAT WERE THEY?

	Dean cast his fishing line back into the water with his back to
Trent...waiting anxiously to hear Trent's next selection. Trent wasn't
singing anything so Dean called back to him over his left shoulder.

	"TRENT?"

	"Yessir?"

	"Is your concert over?"

	"No, sir, I was just trying to pick out a tune."

	"Do you, by chance, know a song called 'The Beginning of the End'?"

	"Sure!"

	"Would you sing it, please?"

	"Hey, is that one that YOU wrote Mr....I mean, Dean?"

	"Cyrus and I did. I'm surprised that you know it."

	"Shoot! I've been singing that one for a long time."

	Dean smiled as he heard Trent raise his voice to sing, "Is this the
beginning of the end or just the opposite? Did you say that we are friends
or something more?..."

	Trent finished the song. In spite of its bouncing tempo, the tune
brought tears to Dean's eyes."

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

	When Trent returned home carrying Granny Dee's Bruton's, she met
him at the door.

	"I see your hairs been dampened. I suppose you went swimmin'?"

	"Yes'm."

	"Did anyone see you nekkid?"

	"No, of course not, Granny. I'm always careful," Trent said,
defensively.

	"How about when you talked with Mr. Barger. Did HE see you nekkid?"

	"No, Granny Dee, I stayed up to my waist under water while I talked
with him...but how did you know I talked with him?"

	"Just before you got here, his friend, Mr. Barnes, called me to say
you and Mr. Barger had had a long talk down at Vernon's Pond and he asked
if you and I could come eat dinner with the two of 'em, come Friday
night...?"

	"OH! WOW! What did you tell him?"

	"I told him I'd think about it and let him know by Thursday."

	"Why don't you call him NOW and tell him 'yes'?"

	"I suppose you know what the people of Weston think about them,
don't you?"

	"Heck, I don't even know what the people of Weston think about
me...being an orphan and all."

	"Trent! You KNOW that you're not an orphan. You have me!"

	"I know, but every other kid in school has a real mom and dad. I'm
sure they think I'm strange by not having either."

	"Well, you pay them no mind. It's none of their business about you
havin' no mom and dad."

	"Any more than it's any of their business what they think about
Dean and Cyrus?"

	"You call 'em by their first names?"

	"Yes, Dean told me to..."

	"You and he got that familiar in one afternoon? Sounds mighty
strange to me."

	"It isn't strange and it's not queer, if that's what you're leading
up to..."

	"I wasn't going to use that harsh word."

	"Why not, Granny Dee? You were thinkin' it, weren't you?"

	"Did you forget to go to the store for me?"

	"No, ma'am, I have your snuff in my front overalls pouch."

	"Then give it to me...I'm a nervous wreck for some reason."

	As he dug into the pouch that fronted his bib overalls, he asked,
"Granny Dee, can I ask you somethin'?"

	"Might as well, boy."

	"Suppose it was possible for someone to call long distance from
earth to heaven?"

	"Silly. The Lord don't need a telephone for someone to talk with
Him."

	"I'm just 'SUPPOSIN'. Would you 'suppose' with me for a minute?"

	"All right! Let's suppose you could call long distance from earth
to heaven. Now what?"

	"Suppose Mr. Barnes or Cyrus called Jesus and asked him to come to
dinner Friday night? What would Jesus do?"

	"There you go turning my own words against me to suit YOUR
argument."

	"But what WOULD Jesus do?"

	"He'd more than likely go have dinner with your Mr. Barnes and
Mr. Barger."

	"Then THAT makes it alright for US to go, doesn't it?"

	"Lands sake! You can win arguments as well as your daddy could."

	"Does that mean we're goin'?"

	"I suppose so...but I don't want you going off into a private room
with either of them and we'll only stay until the dishes are washed and put
away...not a minute more."

	"Oh, gee, THANKS, Granny Dee!", Trent said giving her a
breath-stopping bear hug.

	"Trent? Are you goin' to hand over my Bruton's or do I have to turn
you upside down and shake it out of your overalls?"

	"I'm sorry, Granny."  Trent reached again into the breast pouch of
his overalls and handed the small white can to her. "Does that stuff taste
good?"

	"You've never tried it when my back was turned?"

	"No, ma'am..."

	"Well, DON'T ever try it. It tastes kinda like medicine. As I said,
I only use it to settle my nerves and nothing more. If I didn't stay so
nervous half the time, I'd never use it at all myself."

	"I don't get nervous...although I did get stage fright, just a bit,
when I sang on the talent show. Do you think Bruton's would have helped
me?"

	"No, Trent. Stage fright and nerves are two entirely different
things. One's a medical condition and the other is just temporarily
emotional."

	Granny Dee picked up the telephone and asked the operator to
connect her with the Barnes/Barger residence while Trent looked up at her
smiling. While she waited to be connected, her eyes settled on her
grandson, the love of her life.  She hoped his life would bring him
happiness: that'd be enough for anyone.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

	Friday evening just wouldn't come fast enough for Trent. He went
swimming Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, hoping to find Dean sitting on
the pier fishing. He only had to wait one more night and the next day until
he would see Dean and meet Cyrus for the first time.

	Dee ironed Trent's Sunday suit and white shirt and made him shine
his brown brogans. Since it was evening, Dee decided to wear her one and
only black dress which she only wore to funerals. She put her hair up in a
tight bun and a bit of makeup, dabbing a drop of Prince Matchabelli perfume
behind each ear. She put on her pearl earbobs and then decided to add her
pearl broach at the neck opening of her dress...seamless hose and her black
half-inch high-heels. Trent thought she looked absolutely beautiful, but
then, in his eyes, she'd always be beautiful.

	Dee still drove her husband's antique LaSalle automobile; she kept
in the shape her late husband always did. She drove carefully, observing
the laws, but with her at the wheel, it seemed to be a royal coach as she
motored down the dusty road toward her expectant dinner hosts' home. Seated
next to her, Trent kept glancing up at her with pride, knowing that she was
the anchor of his world. She gave roots to his life, but for the first time
in his life, Trent knew what it meant to be nervous. Would those roots be
enough this evening? Singing in front of two of Broadway's greatest names?
He'd considered dabbing a pinch of Granny Dee's Bruton's in his cheek
before he left...but he' decided against it. He didn't know what the
consequences might be if he accidentally swallowed some of it. It might
poison him and, instead of being with Dean and Cyrus, he'd be at the
hospital having his stomach pumped.  Too late now, he thought.  He
swallowed hard and again looked up at Granny Dee.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

	Trent and his almost aristocratic Granny Dee were greeted by Dean
and Cyrus as if they were all members of the same family. The warmth of
their reception melted her reserve, but Granny Dee was a bit reticent when
it came to hugging and kissing strangers, but after Dean gave her a hug and
a peck on her left cheek, she found that she felt like a queen and she was
ready for Cyrus to follow Dean's lead. The main thing she noticed was that
both gentlemen wore the same aftershave or cologne and that theirs had been
applied more heavily than she ever wore her perfume.

	Being cautious about serving alcohol to their guests, Cyrus had
made four tumblers of refreshing limeade with just a dash of Seven-Up. Dee
sipped just a smidgen and smacked her tongue to the roof of her mouth to
see if it was safe for a young teenager to drink. Sensing it was all right,
she took a hefty swig and nodded her approval for Trent to taste his.

	"This doesn't have any of that fake gin in it, does it?" Dee asked.

	"No, NON-alcoholic all the way. We have an underage drinker in our
midst," Dean replied.

	"When I was married to my husband, Herman, long before he died,
he'd try to sneak that fake stuff into lemonade and get me to drink a glass
before going to bed. HA! He couldn't fool me. When his back was turned, I
used to pour the entire drink in one of my fern pots. Of course, the dang
thing died after the second drink. That's when I showed him what alcohol
could do to his insides IF it could kill a plant so quickly," Dee said. Her
complete sincerity was obvious and had Dean and Cyrus laughing at her
story.

	Cyrus looked at Trent and Dean and asked, "I've GOT to ask: do I
have to wait until after dinner to hear Trent sing?"

	"Cyrus, I didn't want Trent to think he had to sing for his
supper."

	"Heck! I don't mind singing. Besides, I'd like to get a closer look
at your beautiful piano."

	"It's an imported Steinway, Trent," Dean said proudly. "My father's
family shipped it over to him after he got settled. He was one of thousands
who landed on Ellis Island after passing the Statue of Liberty in New York
harbor."

	"You're a foreigner?" Dee asked, a hint of suspicion crept into her
voice, but was quickly erased when Dean replied, "No, I'm an American, born
in New York City. And Cyrus here was born in Englewood, New Jersey, right
across the Hudson River from New York."

	During these comments, Trent had taken the liberty of examining the
baby grand, the first Steinway he'd ever seen, let alone touched. Its
gleaming wood and the ebony and ivory keyboard were possibly the most
beautiful things he could imagine. "WOW! The keyboard is outstandingly
gorgeous!" Trent exclaimed.

	"The ivories are solid ivory...not imitation and the black keys are
carved from the finest African ebony," Dean replied. "Would you mind
singing just ONE song for us before dinner, Trent?"

	"Shoot! I'll sing a dozen if you'd like. You...you DO play piano,
don't you?"

	"I'd be a terrible songwriter if I didn't," Dean replied,
smiling. "What would you like to sing?"

	"Can you play any songs by George Gershwin?"

	"Hundreds! You name it and we'll see what we can do."

	"Good! Then let's start out with something easy. How 'bout 'Someone
To Watch Over Me?"
                  "I'd love it. Let me give you an eight bar intro." Dean
played the last seven bars of the song, ending with an arpeggio. Then,
after quietly clearing his throat, Trent took a deep breath, and began to
sing to his Granny Dee. "There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that
she turns out to be Someone To Watch Over Me..."

	Dee was deeply touched by the way Trent sang to her and a tear
formed in each of her eyes, but Cyrus sat mouth agape. He couldn't believe
how adult and mature sounding Trent could sing. This was just no country
kid from Tennessee singing--each note was true and magical, but the
sincerity and feeling the young man projected touched each of them with a
deep reality. This was a young man with a strong singing talent, the
seeming maturity to understand what the lyrics had to say, and the
God-given artistry to make all who heard him feel what the lyricist had
intended.  Dean's ecstatic praise to Cyrus about Trent had all been
true. The boy was destined for Broadway as far as Cyrus was concerned.

	Seeing that he had a captive, or captured, audience, Trent really
wanted to show off his voice. From the songs of George Gershwin, he and
Dean went into the Cole Porter songbook, then it was Irving Berlin, then
Jerome Kern. Trent's voice got better with each new song and key change as
his self-assurance grew.
                                                                                                                                                                    After
a rather lengthy but lovely performance, realizing that it was time for
dinner, Dean played the intro to 'The Beginning To The End'. Trent
recognized it after the third bar of the introduction and, turning to look
Cyrus directly in the eyes, sang the entire song to him. Now it was Cyrus'
turn to cry, to fight to get his breath. Never had he heard his and Dean's
song sung so beautifully, so tenderly. Even Dean lowered his head behind
the music stand to hide his misty eyes.

	When Trent finished a chorus and a half of the song, Cyrus jumped
up from the couch and hugged Trent as Dee looked on skeptically. "MY BOY!
THAT WAS MARVELOUS! Tell me--have you had any vocal training?"

	"Just from the high school teacher, Mr. Simmons. I'll be a
sophomore next year but I'm not in the senior high school choir yet,
however when he heard me sing in the talent show, he took me under his
wing, I guess, and he's been giving me breathing exercises and lessons,
showing me how to control my vibrato and hold on to notes longer at the end
of a phrase."

	"I'd say you have a mighty big future ahead of you. Don't you think
so, Mrs. Lawson?"

	"I'd agree IF he got to sing with the Billy Graham Crusade, like
George Beverly Shea."

	Dee's remark struck a sour note with Cyrus, but as he eyed Dean,
Dean shook his head 'no' slightly, giving a small warning to Cyrus not to
pursue the subject for now.

	"Well, it's dinnertime. If you'll all go into the dining room, I'll
see if everything is ready to be served," Dean said, quickly.

	Cyrus held out his hand to Dee to help her rise from the couch and
then he escorted her proudly through the sliding paneled doors leading into
the dining room.

	Neither Dee nor Trent had paid much attention to the furniture in
the living room, although it all looked like antiques--they'd both been a
little nervous in a strange house-- but they both knew the dining room was
exquisite. There was a long cherry wood dining table with matching chairs,
each padded with a Midwestern brocade. A huge crystal chandelier hung above
the table, shedding a soft light on the service below. The plates, cups,
and saucers were all edged with a solid gold motif. The glassware was
antique crystal. The center of the table had a large floral decoration
composed of the prize roses which were grown by Dean. Alongside the roses
were several silver chafing dishes with a tiny candle underneath each one
to keep the various dinner dishes warm.

	Dean quickly entered the dining room from the kitchen, carrying a
tray containing four dishes stacked individually, each over crushed ice. As
Dean set one dish in front of each place setting, he removed the covers to
reveal raw oysters on the half shell.

	The only oysters Dee had ever seen were deep-fried with
batter...these looked as if they had NEVER been cooked or been near a
stove. In the center was a metal cup containing lemon wedges.  Dee's first
thought was 'How do they expect us to eat raw food...SEAFOOD to be exact?'.

	Cyrus looked at Trent who was staring at the oysters and said,
"Have you ever tried oysters like these?"

	"No, sir. They look raw!"

	"They are, Trent. They're delicacies that we have shipped to us
once-a-week from Cape Cod!"

	"How do I eat 'em?"

	"Very simply. Squeeze a bit of lemon on one...perhaps a touch of
Tabasco sauce...put it on your tongue and let it slide down your
throat. They're wonderful!"

	"If you say so, sir." His face and his voice retained a touch of
doubt, but his heart told him what to do.

	Doing what Cyrus just described to Trent was MORE than Granny Dee
wanted to try.  "If it's all the same to you, I...I have an allergy to
seafood, so I hope you'll pardon me if I don't eat 'em," Dee said.

	"I'm sorry," Dean said, embarrassed. "Had I known..."

	"It's okay. You gentlemen, go ahead. Don't let me ruin your
enjoyment of these delicacies."

	Trent watched Dean and Cyrus closely as they ate their first
oyster. He sort of got the knack of the procedure, but he still wasn't sure
if he really wanted to swallow one. By the time the two hosts had eaten
three apiece, Trent got the courage to try his first one.

	Just as Cyrus described, the oyster slid down Trent's throat with
ease. He almost laughed as it tickled his epiglottis. He had added too much
hot sauce and it burned his esophagus, making him cough. This embarrassed
him and he quickly grabbed the second oyster to slide down as he imagined
the white rabbit sliding down the hole in 'Alice in Wonderland'.

	"SAY! These are great...I mean, once you get used to them!" Trent
said.

	"One day or one night, Trent, we MUST let you try escargot!"

	"What's that?"

	"Snails in garlic butter."

	"SNAILS? You mean the kind you find after a hard rain?"

	"Yes, but these are cultured and quite tasty," Cyrus replied.

	"Again, IF you say so. But you do eat REGULAR meat, don't you?"

	Cyrus and Dean laughed out loud. Trent's total honesty erased any
possible misunderstanding or offense.

	"Yes, Trent. As a matter of fact, we're having roast beef as the
entrée."

	"Thank goodness! At least I know what roast beef tastes like AND
how to eat it!"

	Trent's remark brought on another laugh from Dean and Cyrus.

	The roast beef and the accompanying roasted potatoes were
recognizable to Trent AND to Granny Dee, who both found it
delicious...although she couldn't make out what spice had been used on the
beef. She thought it might be thyme or rosemary, but she KNEW thyme was
only used in tomato dishes.

	After dinner, the two guests were given a tour of Dean's and Cyrus'
house. They showed off their awards and made Trent hold one of the Tony's
in his hands, telling him that one day, he would have his very own. Trent
had no idea what a Tony was until he was told it was like receiving an
Oscar, but for a live performance on Broadway. THEN he was thrilled and
began to dream of being given one...some day! His eyes sparkled with
pictures in his mind.

	Dee was almost insulted when Dean wouldn't let her wash the dinner
dishes. It would have been her way of showing her appreciation for the
dinner invitation. But she was mindful enough and grateful enough for the
honor shown her and Trent to invite her two hosts to a Sunday dinner at her
house to try her southern fried chicken. Both Cyrus and Dean accepted her
invitation immediately. Somehow, the two wanted to keep Trent a part of
their lives for as long as possible. There were many things either one or
both of them could do to further his Broadway career. Trent was just as
eager to be a part of their lives. Dee still kept her skepticism about
Trent being alone with either or both of the 'unmarried' male couple, but
her desire for Trent's happiness superseded all else and she seemed to feel
that these men could change her grandson's life for good.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><>

	Driving back home with Granny Dee after leaving hosts' home, Trent
tried to play down the excitement this evening had engendered, but he
continually found himself grinning ear to ear with a bubbling feeling of
happiness---happiness for himself, for his Granny Dee, and for all the
world.. Actually, he was beside himself; if asked, he'd never have been
able to put into words the dreams that flashed through his head, since this
night with Cyrus and Dean had been one of the best nights of his young
life. He knew, however, that if he made too much over how he felt, Granny
Dee might find a way of putting a quietus on his joy. He knew she'd always
be on his side, but he was also aware that Granny Dee still had some
reservations when it came to allowing these two older men to gain control
over her innocent.  Needless to say, he had a difficult time going to sleep
that night. He found himself reliving the evening, heard himself again
singing the sounds of Broadway. It was almost too much for him. He wanted
to get out of bed and go running down the road shouting. Cyrus and Dean had
planted a dream in Trent's head which had been beyond the realm of
possibility only hours before...but some day, somehow, he KNEW---Trent
would be a big star on Broadway!

	Trent knew that Jesse Simmons, the high school music teacher was
giving private lessons in the music room during the summer...both vocal and
instrumental. Trent made up his mind that later today, he would go to see
Mr. Simmons to tell him about his wonderful night with Barnes and Barger
and go through the stacks of sheet music to look for songs that they had
written. Trent wanted to be prepared with a large Barnes and Barger
repertoire the next time he was given the opportunity to sing for them.

	And so, shortly after breakfast, Trent set out on his expedition to
the high school music room, fully hoping to spend the entire day, if he was
allowed. He'd promised Granny Dee that this was the only place he'd visit
and not to worry about him. She had even packed him a sandwich and an apple
for his lunch. it was her simple way of wordlessly expressing her love for
him and her trust in him. Not caring who heard him, Trent sang full-voiced
all the way to the school...dozens of Broadway show tunes!

	When he got to the parking lot, he saw Jesse Simmons' Chevrolet in
the parking lot and a bicycle parked in the bike rack. Trent was relieved
to know that the music teacher was inside. It had to be a good omen, he
told himself. There was a door to the music room, opening directly from
outside and Trent entered unannounced...only the music room was empty. He
thought perhaps, Mr. Simmons had taken a break and gone to the men's room,
so Trent went on to the room which housed the filing cabinets of music for
the band and choir, closing the door behind him.

	Mr. Simmons was well organized and kept a cardex of vocal and
instrumental arrangements by song title and a cross reference to the
composers. Trent scrolled down through the 'B's' and found
Barnes/Barger. Trent was amazed at the titles which the song-writing team
had written. There were scads of tunes that Trent knew by heart, only he
wasn't aware who had written them. The list was long and Trent's excitement
grew with each title. He saw a notepad and pencil on a table beside the
filing cabinets and began making a list of the songs he knew and the ones
he had to learn. Summer had just begun and hopefully by the time school
started back in the fall, Trent would know ALL of them!

	Fifteen or twenty minutes passed and Trent heard Mr. Simmons
reenter the music room. Trent reached for the door knob, but stopped
cold. Mr. Simmons was talking. Trent recognized his voice immediately, but
he couldn't be talking to himself, could he?  Then there was another voice,
talking with the teacher. Well, that made sense to Trent. More than likely,
it was a high school student who had come by for his summer music
lesson. Rather than disturb them, Trent remained quietly in the musical
library room. Maybe if the student was there for a voice lesson, Trent
could learn what was being taught for free. In the meantime, Trent returned
to the files of music sheets.

	After a few minutes, Trent realized that he heard no voices.  Had
the student left?  But Trent hadn't heard a 'goodbye', no sound of a door
opening or closing. He moved closer to the closed door to hear better. It
couldn't be a music lesson---only silence, but no one had left? He guessed
that five or maybe ten minutes had passed and no talking, no singing, and
no sound of a musical instrument.

	Carefully and cautiously, Trent cracked the door about half an inch
to see what Mr. Simmons and the student were doing...breathing exercises,
perhaps? That would explain the silence. Trent could only peek with one eye
through the narrow opening, but what he saw was unbelievable and caused
Trent's jaw to drop and his eyes to widen at the view.

	Trent recognized the student at once--the marching band captain,
Farley Adams, who was a senior and eighteen years old. Farley was sitting
on the edge of Mr. Simmons desk, his pants lowered to his
ankles. Mr. Simmons was seated at his desk, his face buried in Farley's
naked crotch. He was giving Farley a blow job!

	Suddenly, Trent was more scared than ever before in his life. He
didn't come to spy on anyone, but found himself an unwilling witness to the
act being performed. He wanted to ease the door closed, but somehow he was
unable to take his eyes off the action at the desk. Questions burst into
his mind---were Mr. Simmons and Farley Adams queers? He'd heard of such
folk, but what to do? How could he escape this moment? Trent wished he
could become an insect and just fly out the window, unseen and unnoticed,
and disappear. What if they knew he was watching? How long could he stay in
the library without being noticed?

	Trent knew that any sound he made would lead to his being
discovered and would cause a great deal of embarrassment for all three of
them. Looking through the crack again, he saw that Farley was leaning back
on his hands, his head tilted back and he was grunting as if he were in
pain except that the grunts coincided with Mr. Simmons head movements,
bobbing faster and faster On Farley's crotch and Trent knew that Farley
would soon be in the throes of an orgasm. Suddenly, without a warning,
Trent realized that he, too, was sexually excited. His penis was as hard as
a wooden clave and was tenting his overalls four or five inches from his
body.

	Trent already knew about solo sex, although he had told NO ONE
about his experimentations at night in his bed. Trent had been reaching
climaxes for months and hopefully had kept that knowledge from his
granny. However, it never occurred to Trent in his wildest fantasies that
someone could help someone else to achieve an orgasm...especially with
one's mouth! Was Farley in pain or had he enjoyed what Mr. Simmons had been
doing to him? Then, too, how could Mr. Simmons even THINK about putting a
penis in his mouth. The idea was disgusting and revolting to Trent but at
the same time, the exhilaration he felt at what they were doing was
unfathomable to him.

	Trent couldn't seem to control his own urge. He put his hand down
the side opening of his overalls and grabbed his penis. Again, wearing his
overalls, Trent hadn't bothered to put on underwear. Not even being aware
of what he was doing, Trent began to stroke himself.

	Suddenly, Trent heard Farley shout, "I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!" and
Mr. Simmons leaned forward to put ALL of Farley's penis as far as he could
in his mouth and Farley screamed, "OHHHH!". That's when Trent realized that
he had climaxed at the same time as Farley. His semen had shot on the
inside of his overalls and was running down his leg. Trent had never
ejaculated this much...EVER! However he didn't make a sound although he
wanted to scream as loudly as Farley.

	Mr. Simmons kept his mouth on Farley a minute or two longer,
draining the boy, then with his right hand, he opened his desk drawer and
pulled out a box of tissues. Taking two or three from the box, he used them
to wipe Farley's penis, then wiped his own lips, and looking up at Farley,
he smiled and asked, "How was that?"

	"It was GREAT!" Farley replied.

	"You really shot a load that time!" Mr. Simmons said. "Especially
for a young man!"

	"Well, heck, it's been almost a week since you did me last time!"
Farley exclaimed.

	"Then maybe we should start meeting TWICE a week?"

	"Whatever you say, sir...you're the teacher!"

	"Wanna come back to see me on Friday?" Mr. Simmons asked.

	"BOY! DO I!"

	"Good. Now remember, THIS must never be known by anyone but the two
of us..."

	"Shoot! I wouldn't tell anyone even if I could."

	"I'm trusting you, Farley. You know we BOTH could get into a lot of
trouble!"

	"You don't need to worry. NO ONE will ever find out from me!"

	"Fine! Now run along. I have a lesson to give in about half an
hour, so why don't you scoot out of here!"

	Farley eased himself off the desk, pulled up his trousers, buckled
his belt, and went out the door. When Mr. Simmons saw Farley leave, he
retrieved the soiled tissues from the waste basket and, holding them to his
nose, inhaled deeply before throwing them away again. Then, turning, he
adjusted his own clothing and he left the music room, walking down the hall
to the men's room to gargle with some mouth wash.

	Trent realized that his wish was granted, that THIS was his chance
to escape. As he moved from his hiding place, he found that his overalls
and his hand were sticky and he had no way to clean himself. He decided his
best bet was to go by Vernon's Pond and take a dip to wash himself AND his
overalls.

	Quietly opening the library door, he tiptoed across the music room
to the door leading outside, opened it carefully, exited and closed the
door as silently as he could.. He didn't skip or sing down the road this
time. Trent ran to Vernon's pond. He saw no one, thank heavens, and he
slipped out of his overalls, stripped to his bare skin and waded into the
water, taking his overalls with him. He swam out about twenty feet to where
he could still touch the bottom of the pond and began washing his private
parts. He then scrubbed the soiled section of his overalls until they felt
clean and he had started to wade out of the water when he saw Farley Adams
ride up on his bicycle.

	"Hey, Trent!" Farley shouted. "How's the water?"

	"Cold...but it feels good."

	"Mind if I join you?"

	"I was just about ready to leave." Trent said.

	"Ah, stay a while."

	"I really should be getting home." If he stayed, what could Trent
say to Farley after what had just occurred?

	Farley noticed the clothes in Trent's hand.

	"You didn't go in the water with your overalls on, did you?" he
asked laughing.

	"Yeah, I did. I had an accident..." Trent lied.

	"Wet fart?"

	"NO. I...I was walking down the road and this big blue jay came
flying over my head and dropped bird do-do on my overalls."

	Farley laughed. "Couldn't you take 'em home and let your Granny Dee
wash 'em?"

	"I suppose, but I...I didn't want the do-do to dry."

	"I guess you're right. Shit smells like shit no matter where it
comes from..."

	"Where have you been, Farley?" Trent asked, daring to see if Farley
would lie.

	"I...I had to go to the store for my mom."

	Trent decided he would make Farley squirm just a bit. "I...I
thought I saw your bike over at the high school a little while ago..."

	"Oh, yeah...I...I wanted to talk to Mr. Simmons about new band
uniforms if the school could afford them..."

	"Oh?"

	"Yeah, he said there wasn't enough money in the budget to buy 'em
this year...maybe next year! Did you have to go to the high school for
anything or were you just passing by?"

	"I...I stopped by. I didn't go inside. I just sorta peeked in the
window..."

	Farley's face turned white as a sheet. "Uh...did you see
Mr. Simmons...?"

	"Only from a distance. He was working at his desk...doing
somethin'..."

	Farley was a head taller than Trent and twice as strong. Without
expecting it, Trent saw Farley's face go red with embarrassment and
anger. Without thinking of his own clothes, Farley charged, coming at him
in the water. He put his hand around Trent's neck and squeezed it tightly,
pulling Trent out of the water. Thinking of his nakedness, Trent used his
wet overalls to cover up his privates.

	"All right, you little peeping Tom! What did you see?" Farley said,
angrily.

	"Ouch! You're hurting my neck!" Trent said, wincing from the pain.

	"I'm gonna hurt more than your neck if you don't tell me the
truth. WHAT DID YOU SEE, TRENT!"

	"STOP IT, FARLEY! I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING! What was there to see?!"

	"You saw me and Mr. Simmons together, didn't you?"

	"OW! I told you I didn't see anything!"

	"You're lying, Trent! Now tell me the truth!!!"

	"OKAY! If you let me go, I'll tell you everything!"

	Farley released Trent's neck, but pushed him down on the ground,
standing over him.

	"TELL ME!"

	"If I do, will you promise NOT to hurt me?"

	"It depends on what you say..."

	"All right! I lied. I didn't peek in the window. I was in the music
library room and I heard the two of you in the music room, so I cracked the
door and saw you sitting on Mr. Simmons desk without your..."

	"OH, SHIT!"

	"I won't say anything, Farley! I promise!"

	"I don't know whether to drown you or cut your tongue out!"

	"Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to see anything!"

	"NO? And you saw EVERYTHING, didn't you?"

	"Yeah! But I CAN keep a secret...HONEST!"

	"How do I know I can trust you?"

	"You have to believe me! That's all I can say!"

	"What do you think would happen if I told your Granny Dee that I
saw YOU sitting on Mr. Simmons desk and he was doing to you what he was
doing to me?"

	"Oh, my gosh! She'd kill me!"

	"Then what do you think my dad would do to me if YOU told? What do
you think my dad would do to Mr. Simmons?"

	"Nothing'll happen, Farley, I won't tell anyone."

	"You've got me over a barrel, Trent, and I don't like it!"

	"What can I do to convince you?"

	"I don't know..." the rough said. Then his eyes narrowed as he
continued," but maybe if YOU did to me what Mr. Simmons did, that would be
one way to guarantee your silence."

	"You mean---put your thing in my mouth like he did?"

	"Yeah..."

	"I won't do it!"

	"You'll do it or you'll drown. Now take your choice!"

	"I won't do it and I WON'T drown. I'm too good a swimmer!"

	"You can't swim if I hold your head under the water..."

	"Farley? Can't you just take my word that I won't tell anyone and
let me go?"

	"NO! Not on your life...or MINE either!"

	"What if someone sees us?"

	"They'll be seeing YOU pleasuring me. You'll be the one who gets
the bad rap!"

	"Will you let me, at least, put my wet clothes on? I don't want to
be caught nekkid with you standin' over me."

	"Sure, but then you gotta give me a blow job!"

	This was the second time in one day that Trent wished he could die
or disappear. Last night had been so terrific and today was turning out to
be one of the worst days of Trent's life. He stood up and put one leg at a
time in the jeans, moving as slowly as possible since the material wouldn't
go on his bare skin very easily while it was still soaking wet. He fumbled
with the buttons on either side of the waist and took even longer fastening
the two shoulder straps onto the bib.

	"Damn! It takes you a long time to get dressed," Farley said. "It's
a wonder your Granny doesn't have to dress you every morning before you go
to school. Otherwise, you'd be late for your first class."

	"I'm doin' the best I can, considering how wet these are."

	"Bullshit! You're just stallin' for time. Have you ever sucked a
dick before?"

	"NO!" Trent said, emphatically.

	"Well, the thing to remember is DON'T use your teeth. You bite me
and I'll knock YOUR teeth out!" Farley thought for a second and continued,
"Hell, that might be a good idea. If you had no front teeth, you'd give one
hell of a good blow job!."

	"Well, don't go considerin' knockin' out my front teeth or I WILL
bite your dick off! HA! HA! Then, you'd have to squat like a girl to pee."

	"Shut the fuck up, Trent, and come over here and unzip my jeans!"

	Trent had his overalls on now and stood up and walked toward Farley
as slowly as a convicted prisoner on his way to the electric chair.

	"You wanna do it right out here in the open?" Trent asked.

	"No, I guess behind that tree over there would be better."

	Trent's first instinct was to make a run for it, but he didn't know
how fast Farley could run. Before he got his chance to escape, Trent felt
Farley's hand clamped once again on the back of his neck. Farley began
forcing Trent toward the big tree by the wooden pier. Trent could offer no
resistance. He just wanted to get the dirty act over with and go home. When
the two boys got within three feet of the tree trunk, Trent heard a voice
from heaven. Well, it wasn't heaven, really, but it was coming toward the
tree.

	"Yo, Trent!"

	Farley froze and let Trent's neck loose.

	"DEAN?"

	"Hi there, youngster!" Dean said, coming to the pier with cane pole
and fishing worm can in his hands.

	"Goin' fishin'?" Trent called to him.

	"I thought I'd catch a few bream for supper IF they're biting. Oh,
I see you have a young friend with you."

	"Yes sir. This is Farley Adams. He's the band captain of Weston
High's marching band."

	"Glad to meet you, Farley. I'm Dean Barger. I live just over that
ridge."

	"I know who you are...and I know all about you," Farley sneered.

	"Well, in that case, we don't have to do much more than to
introduce ourselves to each other, do we?"

	"Farley, don't you think your mother will be wondering why you
haven't brought her groceries to her yet?" Trent said, over articulating
each word purposely.

	"Huh?"

	"The store! You said you had to go pick up some stuff for supper
tonight!" Trent replied.

	"Huh? Oh THAT! Oh, YEAH!" Farley said. "Yeah, well, I guess I'd
better get on down to the store. BUT on that other matter we were talking
about, I'll call you tonight, Trent, to reschedule our meeting."

                  "Good! I'll be expecting your call..." Trent said,
smiling.

	Farley gave a gruff look to Trent, another sneer toward Dean, then
got on his bicycle and rode down the road toward the store. Dean and Trent
stood silently until Farley was out of sight.

	"Is Farley a good friend of yours, Trent?"

	"Not really, Dean."

	"I didn't think so."

	"Want me to sit with you while you fish?"

	"I'm not going fishing, Trent. I was sitting on my front porch with
my binoculars, doing some bird watching and I happened to see Farley with
his hand clamped at the back of your neck. You didn't seem to be enjoying
it...especially since you were nude. I was afraid you might be in some kind
of trouble, so I set down my binoculars and grabbed my fishing pole and
worm can and came over here to see if you were all right!"

	"You're not aware of it, Dean, but you might have just saved my
life."

	"Was Farley trying to get you to do something you didn't want to
do?"

	"Boy, you can say THAT again!"

	"Was it...was it something of a sexual nature?"

	"Well...yeah."

	"And you don't do that sort of thing?"

	"Never have and never will."

	"That's what I thought, Trent! I wish you had run over toward our
place."

	"I thought about it!"

	"Trent, I want you to know something that I don't want you to ever
forget."

	"What's that?"

	"If EVER you find yourself in trouble or need some help, Cyrus and
I will be there for you. We'll protect you, if possible."

	"Thanks, Dean. That means a lot. I...Well, there are some things I
just can't go to Granny Dee about. Every friend I have in school has a
daddy...except me...and I...well, I don't have a man in my life to talk to
about certain things."

	"Well, why don't we put it this way---up until yesterday you didn't
have a man in your life...but after last night. you have TWO men in your
life. Neither of us has ever been a father, but we can certainly try to be
the next best thing!"

	"You mean that, don't you?"

	"Heart and soul! So does Cyrus!"

	Trent gave Dean a warm smile, thought a minute and changed the
subject. "'Heart and Soul' that's what everybody learns to play on the
piano. Did you know it has words to it?"

	"I surely do. Hoagy Carmichael wrote the music and Frank Loesser
wrote the words."

	"WAIT! WAIT! Don't tell me!" Trent exclaimed. "Hoagy Carmichael
wrote 'Stardust',"Cow, Cow Boogie", and 'Old Buttermilk Sky'...and Frank
Loesser...let me think a minute. Oh, I know! He wrote the Broadway musical,
'Guys and Dolls'! and I know a popular song of his, 'Slow Boat To China!"

	"WONDERFUL, TRENT! Do you know the lyrics to 'Heart and Soul'?"

	"Sure," Trent cleared his throat and began to sing, "Heart and
Soul, I fell in love with you, Heart and soul, the way a fool would do..."

	Dean joined Trent on the next word of the song as they both slurred
down, "GLAAADDDLLY. Because you held me tight and stole a kiss in the
moonlight..."

	Dean put his arm around Trent's shoulder and the two sang the
entire song on their way to Dean and Cyrus house, finishing it on Dean's
baby grand piano where they continued, playing a piano duet.


<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

(To be continued in "Echoes From A Wishing Well", chapter two, ASAP.)

(author's note: I began this story five years ago and never finished it.
During this time, I lost the last three blood relatives, even my two
Labrador Retrievers died. Since last June, I've been fighting throat
cancer. My team of doctors have told me that I'm cancer-free now, but what
do they REALLY know. I've revised the plot and I'll finish this story if
it's the last thing I do. Enjoy!)