Date: Mon, 9 Jul 2001 12:50:16 -0400
From: Michael Raburn <mraburn@bellsouth.net>
Subject: Daniel's Love Chapter 6

THIS WORK IS FULLY PROTECTED BY U.S. COPYRIGHT LAWS.  NO PORTION OF THIS
WORK MAY BE COPIED OR REDISTRIBUTED BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT THE EXPRESS
CONSENT OF ITS AUTHOR.

THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTITIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN.  IF
READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS
EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READY ANY
FURTHER.

ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS
WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTITIONAL.


Guys I really appreciate all the great responses you've sent me after that
the original posting of Daniel's Love.  Because of these letters and the
multitude of requests I am writing the sequel.  Since these characters have
taken on a life of their own, they are writing this story, not me.  We will
continue as they direct.  Again, thanks for the encouragement.



DANIEL'S LOVE

Michael A. Raburn

Chapter 6


"Guys, have you guys finished your homework yet?" Daniel asked as he
trooped through the den, laundry basket in hand.  Jason and Kyle were lying
on the floor working on their schoolwork, books and papers strewn
everywhere.  I had explained to their teachers that we would be in New York
for a week and they had agreed to give the kids their assignments in
advance.

"Yep, just finished." answered Jason.

"Almost." responded Kyle.

"In a few more minutes, baby." I said.

"I didn't mean you, Paul.  What are you working on anyway?" he asked,
bending to kiss my forehead.

"Just a few things for Bruce.  You know, the stuff we talked about last
night."

"Is it all going to work out the way we wanted it to?" He asked, taking the
papers from my hand and sinking into my lap.

"Yep, there's plenty for the trusts and the college funds, they can go
anywhere they want when it's time.  And the other things just needs our
signatures."

"Boys, if you're finished, it's getting close to bedtime.  Remember we have
to leave pretty early in the morning to get to the airport, so don't stay
up too late staring at each other." Daniel joked.

"Aww, maw." whined Kyle, giggling.

"Hey squirt, don't call me that."  Daniel tossed a damp kitchen towel at
Kyle's head, then looked up at the portrait of his mother hanging over the
fireplace.  "Jason, drop off the dirty clothes in the laundry room on your
way."

"Okay." He replied, dropping his and Kyle's books into the basket.  "Come
on, Ky.  Let's go to bed."

The boys turned to us for their goodnight hugs and kisses then tromped off
towards their bedroom.

"She would be so proud of you, baby." I whispered, nuzzling into his neck.

"I know, Paul.  I wish she could have lived to see all this."


"Hey Paul, when are M and M coming over?" Kyle yelled from the other
bedroom.

"Who?" I yelled back, wondering what he was cooking up now.

"You know, dad, Monica and Marcie." He responded, giggling. "M and M."

Daniel and I were unpacking, stowing our clothes and toiletries in our
bedroom at Cornelia's New York apartment.

"Leave it to Kyle..." he muttered, wandering to the bathroom with our
toiletries bag.

The flight, other than being at an indecent hour of the morning had been
quiet.  The few other passengers, mostly business types, appeared as close
to asleep as we all felt.  Daniel looked back once at the kids then
indicated for me to look.  There under a shared blanket, Kyle lay curled up
in Jason's protective embrace.  It would surprise me if some day Kyle did
not end up calling Jason "daddy" like Daniel did me.  Their relationship in
so many other ways mirrored ours that that step was a given.

"Kyle, Marcie will be over about one o'clock.  She'll take you two to the
zoo and maybe dinner.  Monica will be at the Foundation board meeting with
us."

"But, isn't she coming to see us?" Jason piped in.

"I don't want to go to the zoo, I wanta see the Village, SoHo..." Kyle
whined, sticking his head into the room.

"Wednesday, I think, Jace.  Daniel's got to meet with Mr. Greenley about
the publicity for the book that day." I answered.

"You're not going anywhere Kyle where you might get a tattoo.  We've talked
about this already.  Maybe when you're eighteen you can make that decision,
not now." Daniel reprimanded, dredging up the eternal battle of wills that
had been going on for the last month.  Kyle had it in his head that he
would die if he could not get "some ink" as he called it or get some
various part of his body pierced.  Not that we had anything against those
two forms of body adornment, but not at fourteen, even if they thought they
were going on thirty.

"But, dad, I think he'd look hot with..."

"No way!  Discussion over!" I answered, raising my voice and realizing how
much I sounded like my own father.  This was never in my plan for my life.
How ever had I ended up married and with children?  Deep down, though, I
knew I would not trade this for anything in the world.  Where Daniel had
completed my soul, the kids had reminded us both of how much the world had
to offer and how important our contribution to it could be.  Our initial
reticence had been overcome so easily after that night the boys came into
our lives.


"Well, young man, how does it feel to be the youngest director of any major
philanthropic organization in the country?" Mr. Avery asked Daniel as we
were leaving the Board meeting.

"I think the word 'overwhelmed' best describes it, sir."

"You'll get used to it.  You and Paul will fit in beautifully, but I don't
want you being too busy.  What with the book and now, your bouncing baby
boys." He chuckled.

"Yeah, right.  Bouncing is the right word there.  Those two are going to
drive us to an early grave." I laughed.

"I remember that phase so well.  I love my daughters dearly, but there were
times that I'd have liked to ship them off to a convent somewhere."

The Board has voted to fully fund the Atlanta Gay Students League and had
appointed Margaret Johnson to oversee the project.  This move had been at
our urging, both to reward her for the hard work and to free up our
schedules some.  There was enough funding to broaden our original idea for
the group at our neighborhood school to include all the high schools in the
area that were interested.  After-school meetings, support groups and an
occasional dance would highlight the calendar of the school year with one
mid-summer outing planned to coincide with the city's Gay Pride
festivities.

"What's this?  I don't remember this." I asked as we were exiting the
elevators.

Double glass doors had been installed in what had been a solid wall to the
left of the lobby of the building.  The new room was well stocked with
books on the half-height shelving, overstuffed chairs and groupings of
tables and chairs completing the space.  Several children were browsing
through the stacks, selecting books; an older lady had a group of six year
olds gathered around her as she read aloud from a big picture book.  Above
the double doors, spelled out in bronze letters was: "The Barry Lewis
Memorial Library."

"Well, Paul.  After everything you've been through, I wasn't sure how you
and Daniel would feel about this so we've kept it kind of quiet.  Barry's
mother and Nina were here last week when we had a little ceremony."

"Mr. Avery, I think it's great.  Wish we could have been here for that."

"It was the least we could do.  The library is for the children we help,
though it's really not a library.  It's more of an outreach center for
these kids.  They have story time, snack time, reading lessons if they need
them and they get to take home a book.  Some of the kids have never had
their own book before coming here."


"I wonder where the kids and Marcie are." I asked as we entered the
apartment.

We had dinner with the Averys and Monica at a tiny, hole in the wall
Italian restaurant down the street from the Foundation building.  Daniel
and I both seemed to have put all the mess and ill feelings that we had
acquired about being in New York behind us.  I had always loved visiting
the city and it wonderful galleries, endless shops and restaurants and fun
neighborhoods.  My parents had introduced me to this mecca of culture as a
little boy and now I was enthusiastic about showing Daniel around town.
Dinner conversation was amazingly enough not about Foundation business; we
were all truly friends now and not just business acquaintances.

Daniel talked animatedly about his newest undertaking.  Somehow in the
turmoil of having the boys in our house he had managed to start another
book, finding time between carpools and the endless list of household
duties he had undertaken.  His secret had been the miniature tape recorder
he carried everywhere.  It allowed him to dictate ideas and whole passages
when they appeared to him.  One day he had complained to me about having
great ideas that would disappear before he got back to the computer to
write them down.  Jason had overheard the conversation and he and Kyle had
gotten together to pool their allowances to get the tape recorder for
Daniel.  Their gift had totally surprised both of us at their caring and
attention to what was going on around them.  They were really special kids,
kind, generous, caring and very affectionate.

I had practically finished the Garland paintings since Daniel had insisted
I maintain the schedule we had worked so hard to establish.  Most of them
had been shipped out in early February to the building in Houston, but I
still had three canvases that only needed the last touches of color to be
applied before they were done.  Nina and Cornelia has been in the studio
when we packed the pieces, both assuring me that it was the best, most
matured work that I had ever done.  Amazingly I also felt the strength of
the paintings; I understood how the events of the past year had changed me
and my outlook on life.

Even back in art school I had struggled with the concept of series
painting, where an artist would paint the same or similar images time and
time again.  I always wondered if it was to try to get it right, that
somehow the painter was missing the mark and kept trying to get the image
in his head to match the one on paper, or canvas.  Due to the sheer volume
of pieces for Garland I had finally realized that I had been all wrong.
The basic structure of all the works centered around the same ideas, the
same original drawings; but the treatment of each focused on different
aspects, different nuances of meaning.  I finally really understood why
painters like Monet had painted so many versions of those stacks of hay or
bridges crossing streams, it was, for me at least, to explore, to delve
into the underlying concepts.


After a lazy three-hour dinner we all headed off in our own directions,
promising to get back together soon.  Monica walked with us back to
Cornelia's as she lived down the block and really wanted to see the boys.
Daniel emerged from the kitchen, three snifters of brandy in his hands.

"I'm sure they'll be back soon.  Why don't you call over to Marcie's and
ask her roommate if she's heard from them?" he asked, passing out the
drinks.


"Okay, thanks Sarah." I hung up the phone.  "She said that Marcie and the
boys had come by the apartment about six so she could change her shoes
before they went to dinner.  They had gone to the zoo and were going to
catch an early meal and be back here by eleven.  Kyle had convinced her to
take them to the village for dinner.  That little sneaker is probably
trying to get her to take them to the tattoo parlor." I giggled.

"Surely she wouldn't." Monica insisted.

"Nah, she knows better and the kids don't have enough money on them to get
anything done anyway." Daniel laughed.  "But it's after midnight already."
He looked up from his watch, concern in his eyes.

"There they are now." I said, hearing someone fumbling with the keys.

Marcie burst into the room, a frantic look in her eyes.

"Are they here?" she screamed.

"Marcie, what are you talking about, the boys are with you."

"Oh, God, no!" she collapsed in a heap on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." she was muttering.

Daniel moved to her side, cradling her in her arms.  "Marcie, what
happened, where are they?"  His normally calm voice was beginning to crack,
echoing the emotions I was beginning to feel, that terrible stabbing pain
in the pit of my stomach.  Two fourteen year olds, alone in the streets of
a city they were not familiar with.  What were they doing, where were they?

"You lost the kids?" I yelled, the blood pounding in my ears.  "How could
you lose two kids?"  That feeling of total irrationality was beginning to
overcome me.

Marcie's sobbing increased as I lashed out at her.

"Paul, calm down.  I'm sure they are okay, that they'll be back here in a
few minutes."  Monica said, trying to calm me, reassure us.

"Calm down!  How in the hell am I supposed to calm down!  Kyle and Jason
are out there all alone." I was angry and hurt, but most of all concerned
about the boys and how to find them.  "Somebody call ...  We've got to get
them back, now!"

"Paul, if you don't calm down you'll be in no condition to help find them.
I'm going to call 911."  Monica pleaded.

"Marcie, what happened?  Where are the boys?" Daniel was doing a better job
of controlling his emotions, but I could see the concern in his blue eyes.

"I, I..." she started, sniffling.  "We had dinner and took the subway back
to the station down the street.  When we came up the stairs someone bumped
me and knocked me against the wall."  She was slowly regaining her
composure, trying to be in control, but the tears continued to stream down
her face.  "I thought he was trying to take my purse, but he moved on,
walking away from us.  I got up off the ground and turned back to see if
the boys were all right.  Th, they weren't th, there." She stammered.

"What do you mean they weren't there?" he asked.

"I ran up and down the block looking for them.  I went back down the stairs
to the station trying to find them.  Nobody I asked had seen them, it's
like they disappeared.  So, I came back here hoping they'd gone on ahead of
me."

"Baby, come on we've got to find them." I grabbed his hand, pulling him
away from Marcie and out the door.

"Guys, the police will be in a minute." Monica returned to the room as the
door slammed.

"They just left.  They're going out to look for the boys.  Oh, Monica, what
have I done?" Marcie wailed.