Date: Fri, 12 Oct 2001 18:53:15
From: Gary Q. <gary_q@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Carl Chapter 12

By Gary _Q

This is a copy righted story.  It may be copied only for personal use not
to be redistributed without this copy right notice, use of this document on
any pay site is expressly forbidden.

This is a work of fiction.  It is based on an actual relationship between a
man and several boys but only fiction.

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS: The story is taking some unexpected turns, so this
chapter's title might not be not be as appropriate as expected, but Oh
Well!  This was going to be the last chapter but that didn't work out
either, the plot thickens I guess.


CHAPTER 12: SETTLING SILVER FEATHERS

     I could feel Carl's disappointment when he discovered only my dad was
home.  After dad informed us the twins had gone to the library with Judy
and Timmy, that they wouldn't be back until after lunch, he shot me several
flustered glances.

     "Sorry son, you cant wait that long."  I said, handing him his
appliances.  His face melted to frustration as he reluctantly reached for
it, staring at the floor.

     "Hum, you know, if someone 'accidentally' hooked the screen door
latch, the twins would have to ring the door bell to get inside." I
suggested, tousling his hair.

     His eyes snapped up to mine as his face changed to an evil grin before
he darted to the front door.  After unsuccessfully trying to stretch on his
tip toes to see out the spy glass he cautiously turned the doorknob, slowly
sliding the door open.  He warily scanned the front yard almost as a combat
soldier would an enemy position before hooking the screen's latch and
slamming the door.

     "Thanks pop!"  He giggled, flashing his new sliver smile and taking
his headgear out of my hand.  He made several tries at connecting his
facebow to the metal now glued to his back teeth before turning red with
frustration.  "It wont fit!"  He whined.

     "Use a mirror until you get used to putting it in."  I suggested,
guiding him to one in the entry hall, resting my hands on his shoulders.
After a few more tries he seated the bow into his mouth.  He looked at his
image for a second or so before placing the thick web straps behind the top
of his head and stretching them down, hooking them on his facebow.  Pulling
the thick lower strap behind his neck he connected it also to the facebow.
He turned side to side, studying his reflection.

     "Its so big, it looks so dumb!"  He whimpered with a slight slur.
"Why's it slick out so far!  I mean stick out, this is dumb I cant talk
now!"  He whined, the slur kids often have when first fitted with
orthodontic appliances showing itself.

I was trying to reassure him that his speech impairment would go away in a
couple of days, that he didn't look or sound dumb, when dad came around the
corner.  He stopped and stared at the now blushing boy for a second before
snickering.

     "Gramps!"  Carl shrieked.  "See I told you I look stupid!" he
continued, hiding his face.

     "Come here Carl."  My dad asked.  "Come on, do what I say."  Carl
shuffled over to his new grandfather, chin on his chest.  "I want to show
you something." dad said as he led the boy by the neck toward his bedroom,
ignoring my dirty look.

     Knowing what was coming I went into the kitchen and got a beer out of
the refrigerator.  Shortly I heard Carl's giggle echo down the hall.  After
several snickers and laughs I could hear him making comments like 'that's
really him?' and 'wow, those are ugly!'  Several minutes later I saw him
peer round the corner of the hall, looking at me then a photo he held.

     "Yea, that's me." I grunted.  "Bring it here."  I said as he
disappeared back around the corner.

     I perched him on my lap before looking down at the snapshot of me,
about a year older then he is now.  Dad had used on Sammy and the twins, I
still think as revenge for all the hell I put him through at a child.  It
showed very graphically my old style braces.  Instead of the metal brackets
that are glued on kids teeth now I had heavy steel bands that wrapped
completely around each tooth, the only enamel that showed was a thin line
at the bottom of the tooth.

     "Still think you look so ugly?"  I asked.  "I had those for five
years!"  He looked at me and back at the picture before he started giggling
again.  "Hey, I can ask your doctor if he can put that kind on you, I think
they still make them!"  As he stiffened I wrapped my arms around him,
pulling him against me.  "Your braces don't look stupid or ugly, the only
thing that is ugly is when you try to hide that wonderful smile of yours.
Do I still get to see it?"

     He squirmed against me a little tighter for several seconds.  He took
another look at my old picture and started to giggle.

     "I guess my braces aren't THAT bad."  He snickered, his slur
reappearing as he tried to laugh and talk.  He put his hand over his mouth
for a second then pushed off my lap and looked at me then the picture
again.

     "Arf, it's a good thing they hadn't invented magnets back then!"  He
quipped.  I tried to swat his butt but he was rushing back down the hall
before I could reach him.


     After a couple of hours I could tell Carl's mouth was beginning to be
sore from his new braces.  I made him take a children's Advil and told him
he could take his headgear off for a few minutes but he declined.  Less
then 10 minutes later the door bell rang, immediately chiming again two
more times.  Carl rocketed into the family room.  As I walked to answer the
door I glanced over, the now headgear-less boy was carefully adjusting the
couch cushions in the family room.  I waited until he straightened up and
started toward the computer before answering the door.

     My repugnant glare stifled the twin's complaints regarding the locked
screen door as the rushed in, followed by Timmy.  After setting several
books and DVS's on the coffee table all they muttered a brief hi in Carl's
direction before rushing into the kitchen, attacking a box of cookies and
gallon of milk.  As I watched the carnage I wondered if Judy forgot to feed
them lunch, but knew better. The sound of a jet engine being brought to
full throttle, a little louder then usual, from the family room distracted
me.

     Quickly our flight simulator's nasty noise sequence, announcing the
pilot had just crashed and killed half the free world. followed.  A few
seconds later another engine runup and another catastrophic crash, this
time followed by Carl mumbling at what had to be the computer.  Shortly he
shuffled into the kitchen looking down at the floor.

     "You guys know how to fly an F-16?"  He grumbled.  "I've been crashing
all afternoon I cant figure it out!"

     The twins self confidently snickered at each other as they stuffed
cookies under their facebows.

     "Come on little brother, I'll teach you."  Jeff proudly announced,
throwing a handful of snacks on a saucer and grabbing his milk glass.  The
other boys followed, and shortly I heard the sound of a high powered
aircraft launch into our cyber-sky.

     I could only hear teen age voices mixing with the simulator sounds but
was unable to understand any conversation for the next few minutes, as hard
as I tried.

     "Hey, what are you doing, GIVE IT BACK!"  One of the twins shrieked.
"How gross!"  It continued, this time I was fairly sure it was Jeff.

     Almost immediately Carl came rocketing around the corner, his gym
shoes sliding as they tried to gain enough traction to get out he patio
door.  I caught a glimpse of his headgear straps again encasing his little
pixie head as he darted into the back yard.

     "Give it back!"  Jeff shouted as he rounded the corner in hot pursuit,
minus his appliances, Timmy and Jerry right behind him.

     "Where's your headgear, what did I tell you about wearing it!" I
snapped as he reached the back door, partly to defuse the situation, partly
because I had a good idea of what was going on.

     "But dad, Carl stole it!"  Jeff howled, poised to dart outside.  "He's
wearing it now that's gross!"

     "Nice try turkey." I countered, biting my lip to keep from laughing.
"He cant be wearing your headgear, you have to have braces to hook it to,
remember?"

     "But dad, he put it. . ."  He began before stopping in mid sentence.
His face turned from anger to puzzlement as my statement soaked in.  After
staring at me for a second he reached up and pushed on his cheek right
where the brackets that received his facebow were mounted on his molars.  I
watched Jerry and his eyes almost jerking around as they synched mentally.

     "He had it on dad I saw him too!"  Jerry chimed in.  "Look there he
is!"  He shrieked, pointing out the door.

     "I don't see anyone."  I responded, glancing out toward the patio.
"Come on, you guys can make up a better story than that, where's your
headgear Jeff?"  I could almost see their invisible antennas glow with
overload as they telepathically consulted.

     "Look, there he is, he is wearing it!"  Timmy howled.  I glanced over
in time to see Carl's bony shoulder disappear from site.  As I was about to
turn away Carl's pixie face appeared briefly in the corner of the door
glass grinning like a opossum.  I tried to say I hadn't seen anyone but had
to turn my head to hide my smile.

     "Okay, tell Carl I said to come inside, and DON'T touch him!" I
ordered, barely able to keep from laughing.  Shortly Carl stepped inside,
his lips quivering slightly as he tried to suppress his smile.

     "See, I told you he was wearing it!" Jeff exclaimed.  "Give it back!"
He demanded with all the authority his alto voice could command.  He lunged
toward Carl but held back before confronting him.

     "This one's your's."  Carl snickered, pulling a headgear from behind
his back.

     Jeff snatched his appliance from his brother and gave me a rather
dirty 'I told you so' look as he raised his facebow toward his mouth.  He
was about to insert it when he froze, then slowly looked back at Carl's
headgear laden mouth, then back at his facebow.

     "What the. . ."  He whispered, looking at Carl then Jerry.  All three
boys eyes bounced between Carl's face, mine and each other's several times
as their jaws dropped almost in unison.

     "Well, you all got'm, why cant I!"  Carl said, his lisp a little
heavier then usual, cracking a wide sliver smile behind his facebow.

     "Dude!"  Jerry exclaimed.  All three boys gathered around Carl
examining his new hardware as they asked questions about what lay ahead for
him, how his mouth felt and why he didn't tell them.

     I let them talk for a minute or so while I went into the entryway,
digging through my coat pocket for what I needed.  I sat back down to the
kitchen table before calling Jeff's name, tapping a finger to my lips
reminding him to put his headgear back on.  The dirty looks I got from all
four boys was priceless as they noticed I was wearing my sunglasses inside.


     The boys had been playing outside for about an hour when Carl came
back into the house, complaining his mouth was sore.  I could almost hear
gears grinding inside his little head when I asked him to set a time that
he would put his appliance back on before saying he could remove it.  I was
willing to agree to two hours out of it, but he suggested an hour.

     After a soft foods supper of tuna casserole and a large bowl of ice
cream he seemed to relax.  I was worried about getting him to sleep but
another dose of Advil did a good job of knocking him out for some needed
sleep.


     'I've been working too long, I need to retire' I mentally informed my
silent alarm clock.  Despite my intention to sleep in, my brain stirred
back to consciousness only fifteen minutes later then I normally would have
began my daily assault on the time piece.  I staggered down the hall to the
sacred coffee pot, enjoying about half a cup before going to check on the
boys.

     The twins were far away in dreamland, laying motionless.  I snapped
fully awake when I opened Carl's door and discovered his empty bed.
Looking further down the hall I noticed the light in the boys' bathroom on,
the door only about half closed.  As I approached the door I could see
Carl, clad only in his briefs, standing in front of the vanity mirror.  I
watched for several seconds as he contorted his face and lips this way and
that, developing some really strange expressions.

     "Morning turkey, what ya doing?"  I asked as I stepped behind him.

     "Nothing sir!"  He replied blushing.  Putting my hands on his
shoulders and pulling him against me I repeated my question, also inquiring
if his mouth was sore.

     "Well a little maybe."  He began, still a little embarrassed.  "Well,
I'm sorta figuring how to smile and not look too dumb."  He finally
revealed.

     "Hum, find any that you like, let's see." I suggested.  He looked at
me somewhat lost through the mirrors reflection for a second or so.  "Come
on, I'll let you know which one looks best.  You're gonna wear them a long
time, don't you want to find just the right one?" I said, causing his
confused expression to deepen.

     After some hesitation he moved the corners of his mouth slightly
upward toward a grin and pushed his lower lip up as in a frown, to cover
his silver laden teeth.  When I expressed my dissatisfaction he paused,
then developed a cagey tight lipped grin about like the cartoon cat that
just ate the Canary.

     "No, that one will get you in trouble."  I responded.  "Can I try
one?"  His face changed to his classic lost look.

     He began studying my face in the mirror as if waiting for me to show
him a mystery expression.  He didn't notice my hand slipping off his
shoulders to the bottom of his rib cage on each side, one of his most
vulnerable tickle spots.  It only took two or three pokes to turn his
giggle box on high, squirming and smiling ear to ear.

     "There, that one's perfect!"  I said.  "Well, let's try another one to
be sure."  I continued, moving my hands and tickling his armpits.  "That's
a good one too!"  I waited until he quit wiggling but still had a wide
smile before saying "Don't you dare change that smile of your's, I don't
care if its silver or white I love it too much!"

     "What's so damn funny!"  An alto teenage voice growled for the
hallway.  "I'm trying to get some f***'n slee. . .  Oh, ah, hi dad, ah
sir."  Jeff said, his voice changing to almost a whimper.  "Ah, sorry sir,
I didn't know it, well, I was asleep sir I didn't mean it." he stuttered,
turning bright red.

     I gave him my best 'you're dead meat' glare for a few seconds before
picking up a soap bar from the vanity.

     "Do I need to clean that mouth of your's up?" I snapped.  His face
turned ashen as he assured me five or so ways it wouldn't happen again.  I
let him stew for a few seconds before setting the bar down.  "I don't know
where you get such a filthy f***ing mouth, boy!"  I commented, pulling his
thin frame against me.  "You guys get dressed, I'll make some breakfast."
I concluded, hugging both my sons.

     Carl's new braces hadn't made his mouth too sore, he fully did his
part in inhaling the mountain of waffles and sausage I prepared.  After the
boys cleared the table I was pleased that Carl went to his bedroom,
returning almost immediately wearing his new headgear.  He gave me a shy
grin as he went to join his brothers watching cartoons.


     I was basting the roast I intended to serve for our luncheon with the
Snyders when Carl reappeared in the kitchen.  He ducked under my arm,
pushing his thin back against my stomach and staring at the slab of meat
before him.

     "Yum!" he exclaimed, drawing several deep breaths in through his nose.
I let him dazzle while I finished coating the meat, then drew a small
spoonful of the broth slipping it under his facebow.  "Wow, that's totally
yum, can I have a little more please?"

     "Sorry turkey, its still kind of watery, better wait."  He rolled his
head up at me, perfectly imitating the twins' best sad puppy eyes.  "Sorry,
kid'o, but let's let it thicken more first."  I paused briefly, making a
show of studying the pan.  "Yeah, way to thin, too much of that and your
mouth might rust shut!"

     I would have sworn the twins had been tutoring him in the 'up your's
dad' glare he gave me as I lifted the roast over him and put it back in the
oven.  I was a little surprised when he pushed back under my arm, wrapping
his arms around me in a hug.  As I rubbed his back and shoulders they felt
tight, I could almost feel some stress radiating from him.

     "What's wrong turkey, you know I was just picking on you don't you?"
I asked.  He just stuffed his forehead against my chest snuggling tighter
against me.  "What's wrong, come on I know when your upset."  I continued,
stroking his strap laden head.

     "What if they don't like me?"  He almost whispered.  "What if they
think I'm bad or stuff?"  I caressed him as I moved over to the kitchen
table, sitting down and pulling him onto my lap.

     "They wanted to come and meet you, they don't think you're bad or
anything.  If they did they wouldn't be coming here would they?"  I could
barely feel his shoulders shrug in response.  "Come on, your not going to
be the shy guy, are you?  Aren't you looking forward to seeing Mike again?
I bet you guys are going to have a lot of fun!"

     "Do they know the bad stuff I did?"  He whimpered after a long pause.
"That Mike and I did?  They cant like me then!"

     I pulled him more tightly against me and closed my eyes for a second
or so.  'God, you're suppose tp be so merciful, how could you dump this
much baggage on this soft little angle?' I wondered, how can I get this kid
some peace of mind?  I held him for a minute or so as I stared away at the
wall, composing my thoughts.

     "They know a lot about what you did."  I began.  He stiffened against
me before I could continue "They know you saved Mike's life, you got him
rescued and back together with them, is that what you're talking about?"
He shifted nervously in my lap, staring at the wall.

     "Are you talking about what was done to you?"  I asked, after waiting
for a response.  He shrugged his shoulders slightly.  "I'm sure they know
what was done to you, I bet they feel just like me about it too."  He very
briefly gave me a questioning look before moving his gaze back to the wall.
"I bet Mike's parents are just as thankful as I am that both of you are
safe, that you are okay and happy again.

     "We know both of you went through a lot that nobody should ever have
happen to them, we know its going to take a lot for you to get over it.  I
know what they have got to like about you, well if they get to see it."  He
stared at the floor for a couple of seconds before asking, in a whisper,
what I was talking about.

     "The bright, happy boy I love so much.  All you have to do is be
yourself and I promise they wont just like you, they'll love you."  I
concluded, kissing the top of his head.  He melted against me, pushing his
little head under my chin.

     "I love you pop" He whispered.


     Although his spirits brightened considerably after our talk, I began
to be concerned when we heard the Snyder's car pull into our driveway.
Right after Bandit's barking announced their arrival I encountered him in
the entry hall, leaving the family room toward his bedroom as I came out of
the kitchen.

     "Where's that happy kid everyone will like?"  I asked, pulling him
under my arm.  "Come on, where is that happy silver beak!" I said, tapping
on his facebow.  "Let's go, I want to meet your friend!"

     After I almost shoved Carl out the front door under my arm I could
feel the tension drain from his shoulders as he saw Mike's face through the
car window.  As soon as Mike opened the car door Carl jerked out from under
me rushing toward the driveway.

     The boys high five'd each other before embracing, hugging each other
as they slapped each other's head and rubbing each other's backs and
shoulders.  I saw Carl turn red as Mike pointed at his friend's new mouth
chrome.  The boys began giggling and shoving at each other as Mike's
parents disembarked their vehicle.

     I felt comfortable with Jack and Mary Snyder the instant I met them.
Both probably in their early forty's, their warm, relaxed faces and
demeanor made me feel like I was talking to long known friends within
minutes of our exchanging handshakes.  The twins managed to guide their
brother and his friend toward the door as they still embraced each other
talking volumes per minute.

     Mike was a stunning lad, more beautiful wearing cloths then the
earlier pictures I had seen of him.  He was a lanky boy with light brown
hair and eyes, eyes that were clear and full of life again, not like his
pictures while in captivity.  He was clearly was dealing with puberty, all
arms and legs, I would have sworn he could stand at attention and scratch
his knees without bending his back.  His long thin neck also announced
recent growth as did his thin, soft face.

     We had to mildly admonish the boys to introduce Carl to the Snyders
and Mike to dad and I.  Mary quickly set the overall mood.  Her husband and
her shook hands with the twins as I introduced them, as I did with Mike.
When I almost pushed Carl from his hiding place between Mike and the twins
to introduce him, Mary stepped forward wrapping her arms around him.
Before he could react she bent her knees and kissed him on the forehead.
He turned so red his freckles disappeared as she said he was her hero, that
she loved him.

     After a couple of minutes I invited everyone to join me in the family
room, offering them drinks.  Mike and Carl, followed shortly by the twins
disappeared down the hall, Carl inviting to show Mike his bedroom.  Shortly
all the boys were out the door heading for Timmy's house, soccer ball in
hand.

     We chatted for a half hour or so, getting to know each other, before
dad excused himself to prepare lunch, Mary offering to help.  Jack and I
talked, comparing jobs and life styles for a minute or so, enjoying idle
conversation.

     "Have you noticed much change in Carl since he's been back?  I mean
after all this?"  Jack asked, abruptly changing subjects.

     I explained (or reminded) him that Carl had only been a visitor in my
home until recently.  I started to hint toward ending my response there but
something in his face told me he had something more on his mind, almost
that he was hoping I might draw something out of him that he was unsure how
to approach.

     "Carl is still adjusting, he is gaining some self-confidence slowly.
He is starting to learn to trust again, that he is not going to be abused,
but that is going to take a long time.  How is Mike doing?"

     "I, ah, well he seems to be, , , adjusting too I suppose."  Jack
stammered.  He seemed to drift away for a few seconds, staring at the wall.
I was trying to decide how to react when he continued "He seems to have,
well have you noticed if Carl has, I'm sorry I forgot, you didn't know
Carl, , , before."

     "What's bothering you, Jack?  I cant help noticing you want to get
something off your chest, can I help?"

     "Well both the FBI and CPS said you're really good with kids, they
said you have done wonders with Carl."  He replied.  I commented that Carl
was my forth boy.  He nodded and looked away, seemingly having another
conversation with the wall.

     "Let's go for a walk."  I suggested, ushering him out to the patio.  I
gave dad a quick glance as we walked through the kitchen, and was sure he
read my eyes asking for privacy.

     "Do you think what the boys did will change them?"  He asked after
looking around the yard for a few seconds.  "Well, I mean what those people
did to them."  He corrected himself.

     "I'm sure it will, in many ways." I began.  "Going through what they
did would have an effect on the strongest adult, and they were robbed of a
part of their childhood.  I am sure it has changed them, but I don't think
it will ruin their futures or anything, especially with a lot of support,
and love."  He studied my face as if evaluating me for several seconds then
looked away.

     "Do you think, , ," He began, cutting his statement off.  "When Mike
came home, we let him on the internet of course.  Neither of us thought
about parental controls or such at first.  We bought our computer after he
was taken, just to search for him on the internet.

     "Mike took to it immediately when he got home, which we thought was
great, it kept his mind busy I guess. Night before last I noticed a new
folder on the computer.  When I looked in it, it was," He took a deep
breath, rolling his head back.  I waited several seconds, then gently asked
what was in the folder.  He briefly glanced at me then off into the yard.

     "Porn?" I asked after another long pause.  He nodded his head in the
affirmative.  I could hear gears grinding in my own skull as I tried to
formulate an appropriate response.  His kid was of the age to explore, and
after what he had gone through damn sure wasn't an innocent little boy
anymore, but I didn't want to lay that on a clearly appalled father.

     "But men."  He added.  "All of them were men, and some teenage boys."
He almost sobbed.  I could feel one of the gears in my head strip as I
tried to think of a response.  "I've seen him look at men and boys when we
are out, sometimes he studies them it seems.

     "Do you think they turned my son into, well, into, , , into a queer?"
He asked, turning toward me.  "Damn, he's only 14 and those perverts ruined
his life for him!"  He snarled.

     'Shit, and this was suppose to be a casual lunch!'  I thought.  'This
is Tim's job, why me' Tim's statement from before Christmas, the night all
this began, regarding this could be 'a long, hard ride', came to me as
harshly as a direct quote.  I suggested we go for a walk through the
neighborhood, taking a minute to tell dad to go on with lunch without us.

     "Have you talked to Mike about this?"  I began as we went out the back
yard gate.  He nodded in the negative.  Not knowing how to best proceed I
just stumbled ahead.  "I understand your concern Jack, but I think you
should consider, Mike is at the age of exploration.  Despite what happened
to him while he was kidnaped he is just discovering his sexuality, he is
still learning about sex, he still has to mature emotionally and sexually.

     "Mike looking at men's bodies does not mean he's gay, it could mean
he's curious, it could mean he is trying to find out about himself.  How
would you feel if he turned out to be gay?"  I asked.

     "God Damn man, what would you do if you found out your only son is a
queer!"  He snapped more then ask, his anger showing.

     "I'd love him and support him in any way I could."  I responded even
as what he suggested sunk in.  "He still would be my son, I would still
love him."

     "You could love a God damn queer?"  He growled, turning to face me.
"You're saying if Carl turned out queer you'd keep him?"  He looked away
for a second or so before asking "What, are you one of them, is that why
you got Carl?"

     I turned away myself, mainly to TRY to keep from punching him out.  I
bit my lip trying to regain some control as I turned back to him.

     "No, Jack, I am as straight as an arrow.  The nearest semblance to a
male's anatomy that turns me on is a Harley Davidson's handlebar.  I
adopted Carl because I love him, but I love him because he is a boy that
got under a dad's skin, because he needed a dad.  That is ALL I am to Carl,
his new father.  If you ever suggest anything otherwise again I'll put your
f***ing running lights out, GOT IT BITCH!"  That vented I calmed down
somewhat, remembering he was distraught to say the least.

     "Jack, I know I'm a bit older then you, but do you recognize the name
J. Edgar Hoover?  He's really from my dad's time than mine, but he founded
the FBI and ran it for almost half a century."  Jack acknowledged the name.
"Did you know he was gay?  He was.  Ever listen to Leonard Bernstein's
music, does the name Alexander Hamilton ring any bell's?  They were too.

     "Remember the name Eleanor Roosevelt, the only three term First Lady
at the White House?  So was she. What about Hill. . ."  I bit my lip,
remembering that a security memo I had read at work was classified.  "Did
you know one of your very influential First Ladies is also Gay, and
provided their husband's with wonderful families?  Should I go on?"  His
shocked face, clearly he didn't expect my tirade, calmed me.

     "Jack, you lost your son for several months.  I know how much that
hurt you because I lost my first born forever.  I wont get to see him again
until I die, IF St Peter don't pull that left lever and send me to Hell,
which he very well might.  God gave me Carl and now I have three boys left
on this earth.  I don't give a f*** if they turn out straight, gay, green
or purple, they're what keeps me alive and I love them, I don't care if
they become President's or bums.  Maybe you better wake up and smell the
roses, ace!"

     We stared at each other for probably a minute before my cell phone,
somewhat thankfully, broke our concentration.  Dad called, saying Mary and
Mike were both a bit concerned, that we should consider returning home
soon.  I informed Jack of the phone call as we started back to the house.
He was silent for over a minute as we walked.

     "This whole thing is so unfair!"  He began.  "God I hate those
brastards, how could they do this to my son!  How can I face everyone, well
him if they, well, if" He faded off.

     "Do you love him?" I asked.  He stared at me with a lost look.  "Do
you or not, do you want to keep him or loose him?  Decision time!" I
continued.  Failing an answer I added "If Mike doesn't know what's going on
yet he soon will, kids are not stupid.  Good Lord don't abandon the kid
now, talk to him!  Believe me you don't want to loose a kid, been there
done that.  Let's go eat lunch, I have a good friend I want you to meet,
let me call him, he lives across the street." I suggested.

     He faintly nodded his approval.  We walked in silence to the back yard
gate, instantly surrounded by kids as we entered the house.


     Jack and I were just finishing our lunch when the door bell rang and
Tim bust in, responding to my invitation of a few minutes prior.

     "What's this shit, you cant feed me lunch?"  He boomed as he entered
the kitchen.  Jack look confused as he watched the big man walk up to the
table, grabbing some chips off my plate.

     "Well, I GUESS we might scrape up a leftover or two, that's about all
your worth!"  Dad retorted, snickering.

     "Shit, all I got was boloney sandwiches, I'll take what I can get!"
Tim said, accepting a plate from dad.  "That's where Timmy's been!  Cant
say I blame him." he continued, piling slices of beef on his plate."

     Jack and Mary were still analyzing the situation when I finally could
introduce everyone.  They seemed to relax as I explained Tim and my unique
relationship.  I was about to suggest we adjourn to the patio when Mike
came into the kitchen.  My boys and Timmy were right behind, loosely lining
up at the kitchen's entrance as Mike moved toward his dad.

     "Mr Younger!  What are you doing here?"  He asked.  His face seemed a
little worried as he move next to his dad.  Jack quickly asked how they
knew each other.

     "Its Young, not Younger, Mike, but thanks for remembering me!" Tim
said toward Mike, before explaining to Jack that he was with CPS, that he
was the supervisor in charge of Mike's care when the FBI recovered the boy,
that the Snyder's case worker worked for him.

     "Come here boy, let me look at you!"  Tim continued, gesturing toward
Mike.  "Damn, you've grown, just in a couple of weeks!"  he commented,
touching the top of the still nervous lad's head.  "I live across the
street, Mr Miller and I are friends."  He told Mike.  "See the third sliver
glare from the right?"  He asked, pointing at an instantly red faced Timmy.
"He's my son."

     Mike almost instantly relaxed, and he and Tim chatted for a minute or
so about how the boy was doing, Jack even chiming in a few times as the
proud papa.

     I was debating on offering Jack a beer, knowing Tim would want one
(and after the pre- lunch events, I damn sure was ready!)  when Jeff broke
ranks from the headgear gang and went to the refrigerator.  To my surprise
he withdrew three beer cans, presenting them to Jack, Tim and myself.

     "Well all of you wanted one!"  He replied to everyone's confused
looks.  He turned slightly red faced as I forced my thought patterns to
concentrate on 'Don't do that, don't read other people's minds!'  His face
still looked embarrassed as he started outside, the other boys following.

     I grabbed a bag of pretzels as Jack, Tim and I stepped out to the
patio.  After offering Jack several assurances that any conversation with
Tim would not jeopardize Mike's home situation he slowly began revealing to
Tim the concerns he had expressed in our earlier discussion.

     Tim relaxed into one of the chase lounges as he listened to Jack,
occasionally snacking on a pretzel and sipping on his beer.  I was somewhat
amazed, just as I had been when he interviewed Carl late one night not so
long ago, at his skill dealing with people.  He nodded and made casual
comments from time to time, just enough to let Jack know he was listening
and interested.

     Tim grunted, sometimes interjected two or three words into what was
really Jack's monolog almost perfectly, that encouraged Jack to expand on
his feelings and concerns, adeptly getting the man to spill even his most
hidden feelings about the situation with his son.  He was completely
successful at driving Jack to vocalize his love for Mike, without Jack even
knowing it.

     "What should I do?"  Jack finally asked, his face spent.  "I love my
boy just as much as you and Christian do your's, what can I do?"  He almost
begged.

     "Drink your beer."  Tim replied, reaching for another handful of
pretzels.  "It tastes like shit hot."


NEXT: FOREVER FRIENDS