Date: Tue, 2 Oct 2001 17:54:48 EDT
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: If-not-now-2

If not now...-2
contact at RitchChristopher@cs.com


                              "If not now..."

                                    by

                            Ritch Christopher

                   (Copyrighted September 2001 by the author)



All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author.
This is a work of gay fiction. It contains graphic sex and explicit language.
If you are offended by such, underage, or live in a city or territory where
literature of this nature is illegal or unlawful, please exit now.


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



                              CHAPTER TWO


	The funeral home was empty except for Cyrus Turner, who owned the
mortuary. Aaron had been the last to leave. Cyrus was turning out the
lights and had pulled his long key chain out to lock the doors for the
night. He'd been the only undertaker in Lumpkin for all his life and his
father and grandfather before him. He had grown up looking at the face of
death and had gone to sleep at night with the aroma of formaldehyde burning
his nostrils. He didn't believe in ghosts and was unsure about an
afterlife, so when he heard noises in the darkened parlors, he was
sometimes frightened because that meant some living soul was about the
premises.  He hurriedly locked the front door from the inside when he heard
the sound of footsteps on the veranda just outside his
establishment. People in town knew that he worked all night, sometimes
embalming or fixing up the bodies for public viewing. His old black
Cadillac which he used as a funeral car was always parked outside, next to
the black hearse with the opaque windows on either side, with just enough
clear glass images etched for people to see he was on duty carrying a
casket.

	Cyrus heard the steps stop just outside the door, followed by a
light tap on the frosted windows.

	"Mr. Turner?" one of those voices said. He was relieved to know
that whomever the stranger was, they must know each other.

	"Yes?", he replied, tentatively.

	"Mr.Turner, it's me, Ryder."

	"Oh, it is, is it?"

	"Yessir."

	"Well, who's that you got with you. I heard two people walking up
to the door."

	"I have Bret with me...and he wants to see his momma."

	"Is that you, Bret?"

	"Yes, Mr. Turner. It's me."

	"Well, wait a minute until I find the key to unlock the door. I'm
supposed to be closed, but under the circumstances I can open for a little
while for a boy to see his mother."

	"Thank you, Mr. Turner."

	It seemed to take Cyrus a long time to unlock the door, as he had
to go through his whole key ring of 40 or so keys again, to find the one
he'd just used.

	"There it is...the last one." Cyrus opened the door and turned on
the light in the foyer. "Your momma's down here in Parlor A, since I knew
there'd be a big crowd to come visit her. Just follow behind me and don't
trip over nothin' until I turn the rest of the lights on."

	"Thank you, sir."

	Cyrus went around the room switching on all the floor lamps that
shot a ray of green light toward the ceiling, due to the green glass
lampshades.

	"I 'spect you want me to open up her casket, so you can see her."

	"Yessir. Thank you." Bret and Ryder said together.

	Cyrus reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny key which
unlocked the upper lid of the coffin. He raised it and stood back for Bret
to admire the work he'd done on Alma. He reared back, expecting some kind
of compliment.

	"Well, there she is...I done my best to make her look as natural as
possible." Cyrus bragged.

	"Thank you, sir. You did a great job." Bret said, quietly as he
looked closely to his mother in the casket.

	"I told you I did," Cyrus continued..."Now I shouldn't stay open
too much longer. So, take as much time as you want but be quick about it. I
have to go over to Cuthbert in the morning and pick up old lady Cowell. She
died tonight and they want me to come and get her. I hope there's someone
there to help me pick her up and put her in the hearse. As I recall she was
a big woman with diabetes and all. 'Bet she'd weigh 300 pounds the last
time I saw her. I'm not quitely sure she's gonna fit in one of my
caskets. I could fold part of her under, I guess.  I remember one time my
daddy had to embalm this big old fat lady and we all knew she wasn't gonna
fit inside that white metal coffin the family had picked out. So while she
was laying naked on the table back in the back where we do our work, my
daddy did a bad thing that no one ever knew about except me.  He told me,
'Son, there's one word I want you to look up and remember in Webster's. And
that is if you can't make somethin' in life fit the way you want it to, you
have to improvise. That's spelled I-M-P-R-O-V-I-S-E. I didn't know what he
meant, but after he'd drained all the body fluids out of fat woman, he took
this big knife and started slicing chunks of flesh off each side. I didn't
know how he was gonna get away with this, but he asked me to go get that
old ice chest and put about a five pound block of ice inside. Then Dad
started putting the removed fat into the cooler. I had to ask what he was
gonna do with it and he said that everyone assumed she had died from a
heart attack by being so big and fat, but just to make sure, he was
removing some biopsies and sending them to the big hospital in
Macon. Later, when I went to the mortician's academy, I learned that a
biopsy was so small you needed a microscope to see it. But I bet my daddy
had sent close to 50 pounds of flesh to be analyzed...also, he was able to
fit her in the coffin. My daddy had 'improvised' and I didn't even know
it!" The old man chuckled a "tee-hee" as he left the two boys standing near
the bier that held Alma.

	Ryder stood back and let Bret approach his momma by himself. At
first, Bret was taken back by what he saw. Alma's hair was almost snow
white, now, not like salt and pepper mix he had last seen a few months
ago. Her face was still pretty. In applying Amy's make-up, Cyrus had
covered up most of the pre-mature wrinkles on her forehead. Bret had to
fight the urge to reach down and give her the "hug" he wanted to give her
on the night of his sudden departure from Lumpkin. Bret felt a pang of
guilt, feeling that his leaving might have put the unneeded extra stress on
Alma's heart, causing her fatal attack. Bret didn't cry audibly, but tears
had formed in his eyes and began slowly trickling down his ruddy
cheeks. Ryder, eased slowly up beside his "brother" and put his arm around
his shoulder. The two of them looked down at the woman they'd both known as
"Momma".

	"She loved you more than life itself, Bret."

	"I know," Bret said, "and she loved you just as much after you
moved in when your own folks died."

	Thoughts from the past ran through Bret's mind. He wondered if his
momma would have loved him if she'd known the real reason he'd had to
leave. That, in itself, might have killed her. Bret was certain that Aaron
would never've had the guts to tell the truth to Alma. Bret knew he didn't
have the courage to relate the incidents of "that night" to Ryder.
Hopefully, the exact details would forever remain a secret with Aaron,
Bret, and a third person whose identity might never be revealed. God knows,
if anyone else in the county knew, there's no tellin' what would
happen...murder, double murder, suicide, a lynching, a trial ending up with
the electric chair...All these horrible things were possible. This secret
must be taken to the grave of the parties involved.

	"I'm sorry she's gone, but I'm glad for her sake she won't have to
put up with my daddy any more.  Ryder, you're about the only person besides
me that ever saw the way he treated her. The rest of the whole county
thought he was the ideal husband who loved her and cared for her...even
putting her up on a podium....God, if they only knew." Bret said through
his tears.

	"I know, but he'll never do it to her again." Ryder began, but Bret
quickly interrupted by exclaiming,

	"NOR TO ME!!  I'll NEVER LET MY DADDY DO NOTHING TO ME AGAIN, AS
LONG AS I LIVE." Bret shouted, "He was bad enough on you, Ryder, but he
held back some because you weren't his own flesh and blood,"

	"I still saw and heard enough to last me for a lifetime." Ryder
added.

	"What are you gonna do now with momma gone? You gonna keep on
living there on the farm with just you and him?"  Bret asked, concerned.

	"Right now, I don't have much choice." Ryder said, hopelessly.

	"You know darn well, with Momma dead and me gone, you're gonna be
the brunt of all the anger he unleashed on the two of us." Bret said.

	"He's never really been that rough on me." Ryder replied.

	"Just you wait. He's gotta take out that mean streak of his on
someone...and you're all that's left."

	"I'll take my chances until I find out I have somewhere else to
go."

	"That's what I've been tryin' to talk you into." Bret
interrupted. "You can pack up and leave everything and come to Atlanta with
me."

	"Bret, I've already told you why I can't do that."

	"Well, at least think it over." Bret pleaded.

	"You want me to take you over to Mae's? She's probably already gone
to bed. It looks like you don't have no other choice." Ryder offered.

	"You know what I'd really like to do?" Bret asked.

	"What?"

	"I wish there was somewheres I could crawl in bed with you and hold
you all night." Bret replied.

	"I don't know where that would be...without drawin' suspicion and
all to us."

	"To hell with all of them! Let them think what they want to think."

	"That's easy for you to say," Ryder said. "I don't fancy the idea
of being tarred and feathered just now."

	"I know," Bret said, "I was just sayin' what I'd like to do. I
didn't say we was gonna do it."

	"Bret, are you really serious about the way you feel about me or
are you just pullin' my leg to get me to do what you want to get back at
your daddy?"

	"Ryder, I swear to you, standin' right here in front of my dead
momma. I really care about you that much."

	"Bret, I really want to believe you. I wisht I could kiss you right
now, but I'm afraid that old Cyrus would ketch us...then I'd have to leave
for Atlanta before you did."

	"That would be all right, too."

	"Let's just cool it until after the funeral and see how we feel
then." Ryder said.

	"OK...but you know how I feel...and I ain't backin' down from it."

	"I gotta make everyone think that Marge and I have this thing
goin'"

	"Well, if you do," Bret added, "just don't drive me stark ravin'
mad by makin' out with her as long as I'm here."

	"I promise," Ryder said, "That's the least I can do. Do you want me
to leave you alone with your momma for a minute or two?"

	"No, I've seen her...Just take me to Mae's and see if she'll put me
up until after the service."


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

	As soon as Marge had gotten out of the truck and gone into her
house, she knew she couldn't get the thoughts of seeing Bret again out of
her mind. She really, truly cared for him...much more than she cared or
ever could care about Ryder.  The thing that worried her the most was the
fact that she was almost a week late for her period.  Usually, she had
always been as regular as clock work...but if she was pregnant, she must've
gotten that way the last time she was in the barn with Ryder. Heck,
everything always seemed to work out the wrong way. She'd never gone all
the way with Bret the whole time they were going steady...now she was sorry
in more than one way that she hadn't. If she were pregnant and could prove
Bret was the father, she could get him back again. He'd do the honorable
thing and marry her, but then, if the baby belonged to Ryder, she knew her
father would make Ryder marry her. Ryder would be happy, but the idea of
spending the rest of her life with Ryder left her short of being
satisfied. Rhonda, Marge's best friend, had one dream...to get the heck out
of Lumpkin for good, the sooner the better. Marge thought she could always
run away with Rhonda before she began to "show" and no one would ever know
she was pregnant. Why did life have to be so complicated?

	Except for one dim light in the living room, the house was totally
dark when Marge entered her house. Lois was already asleep. She hadn't
waited on Marge and Chad to return from the funeral home. Marge tiptoed
down the hall, quietly, so that no one would know she had come home. When
she passed Jem's room, she heard familiar sounds, sounds she had often
heard.  The first time she'd heard them, just a couple of years ago, she
had gone down and cracked the door of Jem's room, almost in horror, because
it sounded exactly like someone had put a pillow over Jem's face and was
trying to smother him. Instead she was shocked and amused by what she
saw. Jem's room was dark except for the full moonlight beaming across the
room and lighting Jem's bed. Jem was lying on top of his covers stark naked
and was playing with his penis with vigor. Marge was confident that Jem had
no idea that she was watching him. Her surprise and Jem's "thing" had come
to a climax at the same time. She hadn't realized that Jem knew about such
things that the girls AND boys whispered about separately in the gym locker
rooms.  She watched to see how Jem was going to dispose of the milky debris
he had just mustered up and almost gotten sick when she saw Jem begin to
lick the liquid off his hand and fingers.  She had almost revealed her
presence in the cracked doorway as she started gagging at the sight.  Jem
was far more advanced in such knowledge than she had ever imagined. She
silently returned to her room, thinking this would give her something to
blackmail him with, should he ever catch her in the barn again, doing
things with Ryder.  Again, she sighed, wishing she'd had relations with
Bret instead of his "substitute."


                    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	It was impossible, no matter how much Rhonda tried, to renew her
damaged "virginity". Randy Simmons had seen to that. The rumors he spread
among his teammates had made her "open game" for propositions and presents
from the guys who hoped that they would receive the same favors she
supposedly had given Randy. No girl at Lumpkin High School was known for
giving guys a blow job until Randy had lied about her. She was the object
of every guy's dreams. Rhonda was not only a looker, she was a
licker. Rhonda pondered the position she was in. She could date any guy at
school and say, "No" to him as she had done to Randy. Her jilted lover
would certainly tell his friends that he had scored anyway. This would only
increase her popularity while staying pure only to herself and God. She
could even charge money if she wanted to instead of the plies of flowers
and bon-bons she received from each "gentleman caller".

	If she didn't choose to go that route, she had to find some secret
about Randy as leverage to stop his rumors. Rhonda had told the truth to
many of her girlfriends, but her one stalwart companion was Marge. Marge
not only believed Rhonda, she believed IN her. Marge had convinced Ryder
that Rhonda had been truthful and they both agreed to help Rhonda in her
plight against Randy. Ryder had wondered if Randy had "experimented" with
his best friend, Jerry Clemens, the way Ryder had with Bret. If there was
only some way to find out. Better still, if Ryder could find a way to let
Rhonda catch Randy in some scandalous act, that would just be too
good. Ryder couldn't let Marge and Rhonda know anything about boys' rites
of passage; he would incriminate himself as well. So if this plan of
Ryder's was going to work, it must be done with the utmost care and
caution. He knew he was taking a longshot because it was more than possible
that no such act had ever occurred between Randy and Jerry.

	In the meantime, the only person who was left suffering was
Rhonda. She hated all the boys in school. She hated everyone in Lumpkin and
she swore to God that somehow she would get out and run away from her
miserable life. She had saved her tips waiting on tables at the "malt
shop". A ticket to Atlanta was only $9.90...but Atlanta wasn't far enough
away. She had to make it at least to Chattanooga or some place farther like
Knoxville or Nashville and that would be in the neighborhood of twenty
dollars...one way. She'd need a place to stay. Food wasn't important. She
could get by on cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches. Fifty dollars would
enough to make her getaway, but just to be on the safe side, she set her
sights on one-hundred bucks. Nickel and dime tips would take a long time to
achieve her goal. Heck, if she was going "one way" what did she care what
people thought about her reputation. What if she did start charging the
guys for dates...then she thought..."What if I actually DID lose my
virginity and started 'putting out' for money?" In spite of her natural
born beauty and sex appeal, she'd never really seen a boy's penis up close,
let alone, touched one. She'd seen her daddy's big old ugly thing when he
went to the bathroom to pee and the idea of getting near it disgusted
her. She didn't like to think that her mother had allowed that thing to go
inside her to create her as a baby...and to think Randy Simmons had the
nerve to tell the other boys that she'd put his nasty thing in her mouth!!!
Why, who'd believe such a thing in the first place?  Rhonda knew that if
she kept her virginity until she was married, she'd never have to put one
of those things in HER mouth, because wives didn't do that kind of thing to
their husbands. Only whores and sluts did that!

	Life went on and Ryder kept waiting on his chance...but the
opportunity never arose...that is until one afternoon at Clyde's Service
Station where he worked as a mechanic. It was about 4:30 in the
afternoon. School was out. Usually a bunch of the Lumpkin High schoolboys
came by for a cold nickel coke out of the machine. They'd mill around and
talk about cars and motors and "guy things". Ryder had gone into the
bathroom to take a dump and had closed the door on the single booth. A few
minutes later, he heard three voices enter the men's room to pee in the
long trough. He recognized Randy's and Jerry's voice, right off the
bat. The third belonged to David Little, the varsity tight end. The three
of them unzipped, whipped out, and started peeing.

	"How tall are you, David?" Randy asked.

	"Six feet, two inches." David replied.

	"And how much do you weigh?" Randy continued.

	" 'bout 320 or 330, I guess. Why?" asked David.

	"You know if you hadn't grown so tall and gained so much weight,
your pecker might've had a chance to catch up." Randy joked.

	"Aw, shut up, asshole." David said, half in jest.

	"Lemme see!" Jerry said. "Good golly, David, if my pecker was that
small, I'd have to squat to pee."

	"You can go fuck yourself, too, Jerry." David said, angry now.

	"Look here, Dave. Look at this 'un...Now, that's what a real dick's
suppose to look like...Eight whole inches." Randy bragged.

	"I don't need an eight inch piece of garden hose to pee through."
David answered.

	"I know, but don't it make you just a little bit jealous?" Randy
asked.  "Hey, Jerry, show Dave, here, what you hide in your shorts."

	David was not only angry. He was getting embarrassed. "Hey, what
you guys tryin' to do, showin' me your hard-ons and all? We've showered
together in the gym since we were sophomores and you never got hard
before!"

	"You mean you've been noticin' Jerry and me for three years. I
thought so...didn't you, Jerry?"

	"Sure, I can tell when someone's starin' at me with my back
turned."

	"I didn't say I been starin' at you. I was just wonderin' why you
were showin' hard right now?" David said, stammering.

	"Does the sight of these two hard dicks do something to you, Dave,
old boy? Do they excite you?...Maybe you'd like to feel 'em. Have you ever
sucked one before?" Randy said, moving closer to David.

	"NO! I ain't never sucked one NOR felt one...and I ain't gonna
start now with yours. Whatsamatter? You and Jerry queer or somethin'? Get
away from me! I'm gittin' the fuck out of here!" David screamed as he went
out the door.

	Randy and Jerry burst out laughing. Ryder was hearing what he
wanted to hear. He quietly raised his feet and rested them against the door
of the booth so that they couldn't see his legs while he was sitting on the
commode.

	"What do you think of that one?" Randy asked Jerry.

	"It looks yummy to me." Jerry said.

	"Wanna taste it a bit, right now?" Randy tempted.

	"Nah, I'd rather wait until after the game Friday night, like
usual."

	"Mind if I put yours in my mouth for a couple of seconds?" Randy
asked.

	"Be quick! I sure as hell don't wanna get caught." Jerry cautioned.

	Randy didn't get on his knees, he bent low enough to place just
Jerry's tip between his lips.

	"Damn, Randy! Just that little bit and I almost came...Man, when
you touch me down there I get chills all over my body...Hey, listen you
better stop before you start somethin' we don't have time to finish." Jerry
said, pulling himself out of Randy's mouth and putting his penis away in
his jeans.

	"That's just a preview, babe...Wait for the main attraction
Friday." Randy said,

	"And you get ready for the double feature." Jerry added.

	"I can't wait!" Randy said.

	"Me, neither...Shoot, I'll have to go home and beat off now, my
hard-on is showin' through my jeans." Jerry said, trying to smooth his
pants.

	"Just think of me when you're cummin'." Randy told him.

	"I always do."

	"You better...and I'd better not ever catch your mouth on somebody
else's dick, if you know what's good for you." Randy warned.

	"You won't...and don't you. either." Jerry replied.

	"Why, Jerry...baby...you know you're the only one for me." Randy
mockingly wooed,

	"Shut up, faggot, before someone hears you?" Jerry said.

	"Who's here to hear?" Jerry asked as he opened the door for the two
of them to leave.

	"I was." Ryder said to himself. He was free now to wipe and flush,

	Ryder waited until they left and went inside the station to use the
phone. He whistled as he dialed.

	"Hello?" Marge answered.

	"Hey, sweetie."

	"Oh, hi, Ryder."

	"Whacha got planned Friday night?" Ryder asked, innocently.

	"Ryder Andrews, you know we're going to the game!"

	"Well, do you think you could ask Rhonda to go with us?", again
innocently.

	"I suppose...but why?" Marge asked.

	"I have something special planned after the game and I thought
Rhonda might enjoy it, too."

	"Well, that's awfully nice of you...but I think you have some trick
up your sleeve...but with Rhonda and me both there, the two of us will
out-number you...so I guess it's safe...I'll call her and invite her."

	"Thanks, honey. Tell Rhonda I really want her to go with us." Ryder
said.

	"You certainly are sounding mysterious. I just wish I knew what
you're up to."

	"Trust me, honey. You, nor Rhonda, won't be disappointed."

	"OK. Is that all?" Marge asked.

	"Yep, except to tell you I love you." Ryder whispered.

	"Now, Ryder, don't start that over the telephone...just say 'bye'
and I'll see you Friday."

	"OK...Bye".

	Ryder hung up the phone and whistled as he went back to the
carburetor he was working on.


                * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

	Never in the history of the world had two blond-headed boys been as
red all over their bodies...from embarrassment...as were Randy and Jerry
when Rhonda surprised them by the river bed while they were going down on
each otherin the moonlight, Friday night after the game. Ryder had followed
about a half mile behind them as Randy and Jerry had sped off to their
secret place. Ryder had kept his purpose and destination a secret from the
two girls. He just promised they would see something the likes of which
they'd never seen before. Marge and Rhonda were totally unaware that Ryder
was following Randy's car.  He had seen Randy's Chevy turn off on the old
river road and was sure where it was headed. He parked about 100 yards away
and talked about the game before inviting the girls to get out of the
car. Ryder wanted to make sure that Jerry and Randy had ample time to
undress and begin whatever ritual they had decided to embark on. He had
timed it just perfectly, as the two boys had assumed a sixty-nine position
and had just engulfed a hefty mouthful of cock. Ryder still didn't tell
Rhonda what to look for, but he told her to walk quietly about 25 feet
ahead of him and Marge. The moon was bright and full. Rhonda thought she
was going down to the river to see the grunion run as she used to when she
was a kid, She was a bit startled when she heard men's voices as she
approached. But she trusted Ryder and continued forward, for whatever
reason. Then she saw the spectacle of spectacles. Ryder had given her the
best present ever...like her birthday, Christmas, and graduation all rolled
into one.  Her mouth dropped open about three inches before she let out a
howl, turning into the biggest laugh ever heard in three counties.

	"RANDY SIMMONS! WASN'T IT YOU THAT TOLD THE WHOLE FOOTBALL TEAM
THAT I WAS A COCKSUCKER?!!!  WELL, NOW I KNOW WHERE YOU GOT THE IDEA!!
WHAT'S THAT YOU'VE GOT IN YOUR MOUTH?  PEEYEW!! OH, I WISH I HAD MY BROWNIE
HAWKEYE TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THIS...MARGE! COME HERE! YOU'VE GOT TO SEE
THIS!!!" Rhonda screamed, as her voice echoed and carried way down the
riverbed.

	Randy and Jerry were so startled, their penises had contracted
completely up inside them. They had been caught!! They were ruined and
would probably have to leave town before their daddies heard about this and
killed both of them. The two of them were dressed and running before Marge
even got a look, They were gone. Ryder couldn't hold his laughter any
more. The three of them nearly split a gut in convulsion.

	When they finally caught their breath enough to talk. Ryder looked
at Rhonda and said, "Now, do you feel better?"

	"Ryder, I swear, if you weren't goin' steady with Marge, I'd ask
you to marry me. Nobody has ever done that much for me in my entire life. I
don't know how I can ever repay you,,,but if you ever want anyone shot or
somethin', just let me know."

	It had been a dirty trick to pull on anyone, but Marge knew that
Ryder had gone to a lot of trouble to make Rhonda feel better, and Marge
loved him for it. She was actually proud. The three of them laughed all the
way home and for many weeks, thereafter.


               * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

	This was one funny story that Ryder wanted to tell to Bret to cheer
him up over his momma's death, but somehow, it just didn't seem
proper. With Alma gone, Ryder felt lonely for the first time since he'd
lost his own parents. The fact that he and Bret had "shared" her made him
want to feel closer to Bret than ever before. Maybe the two of them
together could keep a part of Alma alive. He kept his arm around Bret as
the two of them exited the funeral home and got back into the truck.  It
was only then, that Bret burst into a loud cry. Bret knew he'd lost the
biggest part of his world. Ryder pulled Bret close to him and then they
both cried.  A brotherly bond had been born between the two of them years
ago...but now, with only the two of them, minus Alma, they felt something
deeper and more profound between them. Bret felt safe and secure in Ryder's
arms, while Ryder felt a bit confused. Was he feeling love for his brother
and best friend?...real love?,,,like the kind a man was supposed to feel
for a woman? It was something more than just friendship or brotherhood,
because now when Ryder held Bret, he was emotionally and sexually
excited. Ryder's mind raced.  Could two men...real men...not effeminate
faggots...really fall in love and live together like man and wife? Was
there a place in this world for such a thing?  Surely not in Lumpkin or any
place like it.  Some far off place...where nobody knew them...or cared.

	Ryder cradled Bret's chin in his hands and looked directly into his
eyes. The look said so much. Ryder wiped Bret's cheeks with his thumbs and
moved in slowly for a gentle kiss...no tongue...just lips.

	Bret pulled back just enough to whisper, "She's gone, Ryder."

	"I know," Ryder whispered back to him. "but I'm still here."

	"I'm glad." Bret replied, softly. "If I could only have you
forever."

	"You can, little bro." Ryder said.

	"But not the way I need you...It's impossible."

	"Maybe for now...but not for always." Ryder replied.

	"Oh, God, I wish the two of us could just run away to some desolate
island where there was only you and me." Bret sighed.

	"And if we could, what would we do?" Ryder asked, smiling and
brushing Bret's hair back off his forehead.

	"We'd build a treehouse with palm fronds for a roof to protect us
from the sun and the rain and we'd lie naked in bed all day and hold each
other as we're holding each other now. We wouldn't need anyone else...no
phones, no mail, no visitors, no one to bother us until we're eighty..."

	"And then what?"

	"We'd get on the raft we'd built and sail off into the sunset,
loving each other until we were no more."

	"That's a great dream, Bret, but what can we do here and now?"

	"I don't know, Ryder, that's mostly up to you...and your decision
to come with me."

	"I wish I could say 'yes', but not just now."

	"But..."

	"Please, Bret...later...Now, we've got to find some place for you
to stay...Want me to drive you over to Mae's?"

	"May as well start there," Bret said, "I sure as hell can't go home
with you...not with Daddy there."

	"Are you ready to tell me what happened?" Ryder asked, again.

	"Nope...not yet." Bret said, staring into space.

	Ryder started the engine and headed the truck toward Mae's.


				* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


	Over half of Lumpkin's population turned out for Alma's
funeral. The Negroes, of course, were not allowed into the church, but they
gathered to one side of the parking lot and prayed while the service was
going on inside the Baptist Church.  The white people that couldn't get in,
crowded around the church doors and the rest of the overflow of people
lined the walkway. All the women had on hats...mostly black hats...some
with feathers...all with veils, though. The women all had their freshly
laundered linen laced handkerchiefs placed at the tip of their noses. First
one lady would snivel and the rest of them replied as an echo.

	Chad Larrimore had preached many funerals, but this was one of the
most difficult. He was one of the few Lumpkin residents that knew how Alma
had suffered with Aaron's secret belligerence toward her and Bret. Poor old
soul, if the town folk only knew. Alma looked twenty years older than her
actual age. Aaron's treatment of Alma had helped Chad to treat Lois and his
children with more affection. Chad wondered just how much remorse and
regret Aaron was feeling...if any.

	Just before Amy Morse arose to start singing, "There's a land
beyond the river..." Bret entered the church with Mae and walked down the
aisle as all heads turned and whispers ran amok from one side of the church
to the other. Everyone strained their heads to see if Bret would sit by his
father. Bret didn't try. He and Mae stopped two rows of pews behind Aaron
and the people on that pew scrunched together to make room for Mae and
Bret. If Aaron was aware that Bret had entered the church or had caused the
whispering commotion, he didn't let on. His eyes were transfixed on the
open coffin in front of the pulpit. Tears were replaced with tension by the
congregation. No one ever had any idea what had happened between Bret and
Aaron but the speculation defied all stretches of the imagination. Nearly
everyone figured that Marge was involved some way, but when Marge began
dating Ryder, most of those rumors had subsided.

	Amy finished the last strains of "When They Ring Those Golden
Bells" and Chad arose to the pulpit to read the twenty-third
Psalm. "Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen." Chad lowered his
head to say a silent prayer. Then he looked directly at Aaron and his eyes
wandered over to find Bret, sitting beside Mae. Then, he began his sermon.

	"Alma Louise Petrie Teasdale was too good for this world...and God
knew it. That's why He called her home to be with Him. I knew her and her
parents, Robert and Constance Petrie since Alma and I were both
children. Maybe some of you are old enough to remember that she and I were
once sweethearts...way back in grammar school. I watched her grow and turn
into a beautiful girl...and then a wonderful woman...and if my wife, Lois,
will forgive me, if things had been different back then, I might've even
married her...but that wasn't meant to be. God had other plans for her and
He had other plans for me.  It was meant for me to become a preacher, but
God had even a greater task for her. She was to become the cradle of
culture for all of Lumpkin...for everyone who needed her...no matter what
time of day or night. Just call, and she'd be there. No matter what she had
to do, she put her business aside to take care of someone else. I'm not
speaking out of turn, but in circles where everyone can and does talk
behind someone's back, she was never the topic of any such
conversation. Nobody would say anything bad against her. Nobody
could... because there was nothing bad about her to say. When she was still
a young woman, she met Aaron and married him...and though she tried many
times to have a baby, God saw fit for her to have only one...a
son...Bret. I watched her raise him. I use to think about the scripture
describing the way Mary raised Jesus...'And the child grew, waxed strong,
filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him.'  That's what she
wanted for her son...Bret, I see you down there in the fourth row and I
wanted you to know that about your mother. She had a plan and a purpose for
you. I hope you can still find it."

	Bret was astonished to hear Mr. Larrimore preaching directly to
him. He blushed as he felt all eyes in the church looking at him. A
thunderous jolt of fear hit him as he wondered how much Mr. Larrimore knew
about that troubled night he'd had with his dad. He knew that Aaron would
never tell anyone...not even his momma...certainly not the preacher...But
if Mr. Larrimore knew, who'd have told him? Bret felt like rising and
bolting toward to door to flee before any of the secret was revealed to the
whole town of Lumpkin. His thoughts were so railed, he didn't hear another
word Chad said during the rest of the service. Ryder had held his breath,
too. He didn't know the details of the rift and his heart stopped when he
thought that Mr. Larrimore was about to reveal the secret. Ryder wished he
were sitting by Bret to offer him moral support...to touch his arm or hand
or something to let him know he was on his side.

	The remark had made Aaron raise an eyebrow, also. He waited in
anticipation for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't. He relaxed as Chad
continued with the sermon, describing the beauties and joys of heaven that
Alma was now enjoying.  Then the service was over. The pallbearers came
forward as Cyrus Turner temporarily closed the lid of the casket. The bier
was rolled to the lobby in front of the church and the casket was re-opened
for the entire congregation to pass by and get one final glimpse of Alma.
The people rose, all except Aaron, and began exiting pew by pew. Marge
couldn't keep from staring constantly at Bret. The two of them had not had
a chance to talk and she wondered if he would apologize or offer an
explanation of his leaving her in the lurch. Bret looked at no one. He kept
his gaze firmly on the open casket as he slowly walked behind the crowd.
When he reached the coffin, he leaned over and kissed Alma on the
lips. There was a gasp among the crowd. Nobody but the undertaker ever
touched a body once it had been embalmed and put in a casket. Call it
respect, ignorance, or superstition...it just wasn't done...not even to
one's own mother.

	Ryder hoped that Aaron hadn't seen the kiss or Aaron might have
charged and slapped Bret. Ryder was pretty sure if he hadn't seen it,
someone was bound to tell him or ask him about it later. The crowd parted
on either side of the long walkway to make room for Bret and Mae, only
later to be followed by Ryder and Aaron...members of Alma's family. At the
end of the walk, Nate, a colored boy, Bret's age, who had worked Aaron's
crops, walked forward to face Bret. Bret stopped.

	"Mr. Bret," Nate said, "I'm so sorry about your momma. She was so
good to me."

	Bret put out his hand to accept Nate's condolence and said a
simple, "Thank you."

	Bret was unaware that Aaron and Ryder had caught up with him during
the recessional, but he froze when he heard Aaron's booming voice behind
him.

	"GET AWAY FROM HIM, NIGGER!" Aaron said, firmly.

	The words rang out across the courtyard of the church like the
first cannon fired at Fort Sumter. Heads turned. Mouths dropped open
agape. Bret did not turn around to face his dad, he just squeezed Nate's
hand more firmly and repeated, "Thank you, Nate." Nate pulled his hand away
from Bret's and backed up cautiously about ten feet before he turned and
ran out of the church's premises and headed down the road, turning into the
woods.

	The hush was deafening. Chad had seen what had happened and
appeared baffled at the reason for the occurrence but finally, he broke the
silence by announcing. "The interment will be held at the Lily of the
Valley Cemetery. Those that can join us, please do so, and we will continue
the service there."

	The shock of the moment consisted of many levels. First of all,
Aaron shouting to anyone like that...and secondly...no one ever used the
word "nigger", when colored folks were present.  The whites couldn't look
at their black friends and employees and the blacks had all lowered their
heads in dismay...some out of fear. NO ONE KNEW what had prompted Aaron's
actions...except Aaron apparently...but by nightfall there would be a 1,000
speculations.

	Aaron got into the Turner family limousine to ride to the burial
site. He waited for Ryder to join and accompany him.  Ryder knew he was the
"acting" son but his emotions wanted him to be near Bret. He walked over to
Aaron and lied, "Mr. Teasdale, Mae had asked me to drive her car, so I hope
you won't hold it against me if I don't come with you."

	"I guess you want to talk to HIM!" Aaron blared.

	"No sir. You know Mae's eyesight isn't what it used to be and she
just asked me to drive her." Ryder lied.

	"Why didn't she ask HIM to drive her?" Aaron snorted.

	"I don't know, sir. Maybe he doesn't have his driver's license with
him or maybe he's too upset to drive after sitting through his mother's
funeral."

	"Well, GO ON!...But when you come back home tonight...don't you
bring HIM with you. He's not welcome...now...nor will he ever be."

	"Yessir, I won't." Ryder said, as he shut the door of the funeral
car.

	Ryder knew this was going to be he longest drive in history. He HAD
to know why Aaron had acted the way he did, but he knew he couldn't bring
up the subject to Bret with Mae in the car with them.

	Bret held the door of Mae's car while she scooted into the front
seat. He sat on the passenger's side at the same time Ryder took his place
behind the steering wheel. Not one word was said for the entire four mile
drive to the cemetery. Bret looked straight ahead, while Mae kept her head
down, pretending to dab her nose with her handkerchief.

	The congregation was already assembled around the open grave which
yawned beneath Alma's casket, when the two "family" cars arrived. All eyes
were on Aaron and Bret as they got out of the cars. Most of the people had
forgotten why they were actually there as everyone's attention had focused
away from the matter at hand...Alma's burial.

	Lois stood near Chad, with Marge and Jem on either side of her as
Chad said the closing remarks at the grave. The crowd slowly dispersed and
everyone left with the same puzzled look. SOMEONE HAD TO KNOW
SOMETHING...BUT WHO? Ryder went over to give Marge a hug, leaving Bret to
escort Mae back to her car.

	As Ryder embraced Marge, she whispered, "Do you know anything?"

	"I'm just as much in the dark about what happened as everyone."
Ryder said in a low voice.

	"Do you think Bret knows why his daddy did it?" she asked.

	"If he does, he didn't say anything." Ryder replied.

	"Well, did you ask him?"

	"You know I couldn't ask him with Mae sittin' between us. You might
as well get on the radio and broadcast it to the entire world if she'd
heard anything. You know how she is....I'll have to wait until I take her
home and then I'll talk to Bret." Ryder said.

	"Will you call and tell me?" Marge asked.

	"Sure, sweetheart, you know I don't keep secrets from you."

	"Well, you better not...especially this one....that is...if you
find out."

	Lois walked over to the two of them and said, "Ryder, I don't know
if you and Bret have plans for supper, but if Mae hasn't cooked yet, why
don't the two of you boys come over. I made a big supper, not knowing who
might drop by."

	"Thank you, Mrs. Larrimore. I'll talk to Bret about it and see if
he feels like coming over."

	"I'll understand if he doesn't," Lois said.

	"I gotta go, sweetheart" Ryder said, giving Marge a quick peck on
the lips and hurrying to the car where Bret and Mae were waiting. It was
Mae who broke the silence by starting a conversation among the three of
them.

	"That was a mighty fine service for Alma," Mae said. "She would've
been proud knowing her two 'sons' were standing there side by side. I'm so
glad you made it back in time, Bret.  There's just something wrong about a
child not being able to attend his parent's funeral."

	"Yes, ma'am", is all either Bret or Ryder could say.

	"Oh, Mrs. Bradley, Mrs. Larrimore invited me and Bret to come over
to her house for supper, if that's all right." Ryder said.

	"That's perfectly all right," Mae replied, "I imagine there's
plenty you two boys need to talk about...Bret, have you talked with Marge
since you've been home?"

	"Yes ma'am, I saw her the night I arrived...just for a few
minutes." Bret said.

	"Well, I imagine there's quite a bit you and Marge have to say to
each other, too."

	Bret was silent. He didn't respond. He had all but agreed to go to
the Larrimore's for supper, forgetting about leaving Marge so abruptly, the
way he did.

	"Bret, I'm sorry. I didn't even ask you if you wanted to go to the
Larrimores...Are you up to it?"

	"Not really, but I suppose I should have a heart to heart with
Marge. I guess I owe her that much." Bret said,

	"That's just exactly what Alma would've wanted you to do. " Mae
interjected.

	Ryder looked at Bret for a response, but again, there was
none. Ryder pulled into the long driveway that led to Mae's farm house.

	"You wanna go over to Marge's early? I mean, would you like to go
now?" Ryder asked.

	"I want to get out of these church clothes." Bret replied.

	Mae had let Bret have the use of one of the bedrooms upstairs,
which let them both maintain their individual privacy. Once inside the
house, Mae went into her bedroom on the main floor to change into a house
dress and an apron. Bret slowly climbed the stairs, followed by Ryder. Bret
was walking as if he were in a stupor or rather like a zombie in the
movies. He walked with his head down and his arms straight at his
sides. The two boys entered the bedroom and Ryder put his hand on Bret's
shoulder to turn him around, but Bret's body was like dead weight. It
wouldn't turn. Ryder then moved around so that he was facing Bret and
Bret's eyes would not even glance up to look into Ryder's.

	"What is it, Buddy?" Ryder asked, genuinely concerned.

	No answer from Bret.

	"Here, let me help you off with those clothes." Ryder said as he
reached for Bret's tie and began to untie the knot.  Ryder might as well've
been undressing a mannikin like that had in the store downtown because Bret
just stood there motionless while Ryder undressed him piece by piece. Bret
offered Ryder no help even in removing his shoes and socks. Ryder had to
lift each of Bret's legs as if they were shodding a horse.  He then looked
around the room for the knapsack Bret had worn home for extra clothes.  He
found pair of Bret's jeans, some white socks and three or four pullover
polo shirts. He selected a bright red one, hoping the contrast of color and
mood would revive Bret to some state of normalcy.

	Item by item, Ryder dressed Bret again even down to his white socks
and loafers. Ryder hadn't realized how nervous he was until he saw his
hands shaking trying to put socks on his best friend. After he had pulled
the shirt over Bret's head, he dug his comb out of his back pocket and
combed Bret's hair as they once had done many years ago when they both were
trying to see how they would look in ducktails.  Once Bret was presentable
by Ryder's standards, he took both hands and gently slapped both of Bret's
shoulders.

	"There...all done! And you look great, if I say so myself." Ryder
said, trying to lighten the tone. "OK...You ready to go?" Ryder started out
the door hoping Bret would follow. Bret was still standing in the middle of
the room.  Ryder noticed Bret's mouth opening as if to speak. Finally, he
did.

	"I hate that goddamned son-of-a-bitch and I hope he rots in hell."
Bret said in a monotone.

	"What?...Who?...Your daddy?" Ryder ran to him to ask.

	"Yes...that fuckin' bastard."

	"Why do you say that, bro?"

	"He ran me off...and ran Momma into her grave...and if I
could...I'd kill him and not bat an eye."

	"Jesus! Bret! Why are you sayin' that? What happened between you
two?"

	"I can't tell you!" Bret blurted out.

	"You can't or you won't?" Ryder screamed back.

	"Both! I told you I'm not ready to tell you...and I'm not. So you
can just keep asking and I won't tell you."

	"Good Lord, Bret, Nothing could be that bad. We've got no secrets
from each other. I know every inch of your body and every thought in your
brain, why won't you trust me with this secret?" Ryder pleaded.

	"I just won't!" Bret said with finality.

	"OK. I promise not to ask again...now can you put yourself together
enough for us to go see Marge and the Larrimores?" Ryder was on the verge
of tears. The person he loved most in life...the person who had practically
BEEN his life for over ten years was crumbling before him and he could do
nothing to stop it. Maybe Marge or Pastor Chad could reach him. Ryder had
done everything he knew to try.  "Can we go now?"

	"I suppose," Bret said, flatly.

	Ryder wanted to hold Bret or kiss him or something...but at the
moment he felt it was safer not to invade Bret's privacy. Instead, he took
Bret by the hand and led him out of the room like a child..down the
stairs...out the door...and opened the passenger side of the car for
him...just like a date.  Ryder hadn't asked Mae for the use of her car, but
under the circumstances he knew it was all right.

	Before he started the engine, he turned to Bret, "Look at me." Bret
slowly turned his head toward Ryder. "I swear to you on our love and
brotherhood that I will never ask you about yours and Aaron's incident
again. But I want you to know...No matter what happened...however bad it is
or was...it could never change the way I feel about you...NOT NOW...NOT
EVER! I just wanted you to hear that and always remember it....Did you hear
me?..I asked if you heard me, Bret."

	"Yes, I heard you."

	"You do know that I love you, don't you?"

	"Yes...and I love you, too."

	"That's all I need to hear."

	With that declaration, Ryder started the car and drove down Mae's
long drive, turned right on the highway and headed for the Larrimores.

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

(To be continued in Chapter Three)