Date: Fri, 17 Sep 2010 20:49:04 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Owen, chapter 44, Gay College Section

Owen

Chapter forty-four

By Roy Reinikainen


	It was a beautiful day for the wedding of Doctor Daniel Johnson and
Bea Carver.  The sky, a deep blue, stretched from horizon to horizon.  The
lush green of the park was draped with dappled shade cast by the park's
huge oaks, and dotted with a profusion of colors. The townspeople, dressed
in their best, were hovering around the newly painted, white bandshell,
where Bea, Daniel, and the minister were standing.

	Owen's eyes filled with tears, as his mother and Daniel kissed.  He
sniffed and wiped at his eyes, returning Lucas' look of concern with a
crooked smile, as he wished his mother well.  "Be happy, Mama.  You deserve
all the happiness you can get."

	Unlike his older brother, Jonah's eyes were dry, though he was no
less moved by his mother's happiness.  As she and Daniel stood before the
silent crowd, he recalled the emotionally bruised and battered woman who
had endured her husband's verbal abuse, using herself as a shield to
protect her children as best she could.  That woman had ceased to exist,
and had been replaced with the vibrant woman who stood before him.  'I love
you, Mama,' he thought.  'Thank you for all you've done for us . . . for
me.'

	Jonah and Owen's sister, Abigail, dabbed at her eyes.  She,
perhaps, more than anyone else, knew what her mother had endured while
married to Jonathan.  In those rare moments when she was alone with her
mother, and her father wasn't shouting about something, she learned of the
frustrations and fears the older woman faced.  She always wondered why her
mother never said anything against her father, the man who tormented her
mother daily.  "Aren't you angry with him?" she once asked.  Her mother
sadly smiled, the antique rocking chair on which she sat, rhythmically
creaking with her slow movements.

	"No, sweetheart, I'm not angry at him.  I am afraid for him."

	"Afraid for him?" Abigail asked.  Somehow, she'd have been more
comforted to have her mother be as angry as she, at the way her father
treated every member of the family.  Her mother had brushed a strand of
hair away from her face as she spoke, her weariness evident in every
movement.

	"Yes, dear.  I'm afraid for him, because I truly do not believe he
is aware of what he's doing.  I'm also afraid for you and Opie."  The
slight squeak of the rocking chair was the only sound as Bea paused.  "I am
thankful, though, that he has never turned against either you or your
sister."  There was a lengthy pause.  "Has he?"

	Abigail had bowed her head.  "No, Mama.  He's never touched either
of us."  The young lady paused, flicking a glance at her mother.  "But,
just because he hasn't touched either of us, does not make his behavior
. . . acceptable.  If he had, I would not have endured in silence, like
Jonah and Owen."

	"They had their reasons, sweetheart," Bea murmured, staring into
the distance.  "Personal ones."  She smiled, wearily.  "In many ways, both
boys are as stubborn as their father.  They couldn't allow him to see how
deeply they were hurting inside because of his behavior.  All of us, in
this family, are stubborn in our own ways.  We have had to be, just to
survive.

	"Sweetheart . . . your father's actions have left scars on all of
us, but we can't let his actions change what type of person we are
. . . deep down." Bea turned, suddenly intent.  "Abigail, if you give it a
chance, anger will eat at you until there is nothing left but a dry husk.
Try your best not to be angry with your father, dear.  Your anger will not
change his behavior, and, in the end, will only harm you.  Instead, do your
best to try to understand what is happening to him.  I'm not asking you to
forgive, or forget, only to try to understand.

	"You're aware that I have arranged for my sister, your aunt Kathy,
to take in you both, should things worsen?"  Abigail nodded.  "Perhaps I'm
being selfish, but I don't want to lose you girls.  Now that Owen's away at
college, and Jonah has been driven away," Bea took a ragged breath, "you
and Opie are all I have left."  She smiled her gratitude, as Abigail took
her hand and sat quietly, as her mother lapsed into a silence.

	The plan to have Abigail and Opie move to their aunt's house in
Evanston, had never happened.  Only days after she and her mother's
conversation, her father had lost control, and the Doctor . . . Daniel
. . . had come to her mother's rescue.

	'The poor man.  He ended up being hurt more than Pops.  I don't
believe there is anything he wouldn't do for Mama.'  Abigail smiled, as she
watched her mother hold Daniel's hand while they exchanged marriage vows.
'Mama is so full of love.  She's lavished it on Opie, Owen, Jonah, and me.
Now, she has someone who can return her love in ways none of us kids can.
I'm happy for you, Mama.'  She looked down at her younger sister, who
gently tugged on her hand.

	"I can't see what's happening," Opie whispered, when Abigail leaned
down to see what the problem was.  When she picked her younger sister up,
the little girl was unusually silent as she watched her mother.  "Now," she
finally said, turning to Abigail, "Mama can be happy.  I'm glad."

	"Me, too, Opie," Abigail murmured.  "Me, too."

	The ceremony had concluded, and the party had begun, as Daniel and
Bea greeted well wishers.  At Bea's side, stood five men, and two girls.
"My family," she announced proudly, when Charlie, one of Daniel's brothers,
asked who everyone was. "This is Owen and Jonah," she announced, full of
maternal pride, tenderly touching each one as they were introduced.

	She then gathered in the three other men, who were standing nearby,
with a welcoming gesture.  "And these two handsome young men are Owen's
partners, Sam, and Lucas.  And this is Corey," she said, turning a fond
smile in his direction.  "He's my son Jonah's partner.

	"And these are my beautiful daughters," Bea added, affectionately
resting a hand, first on Opie's shoulder, then Abigail's, introducing each
by name.  "I have been truly blessed," she smiled, "to have such a
wonderful family."  She turned a loving smile on her new husband.  "Now, I
have been doubly blessed, to be married to such a special man."

	"Partners?" Daniel's brother's wife, Grace, murmured, glancing over
her glasses at the five handsome men, who were now visiting with another
well-wisher.  Bea's oldest son, Owen, had hoisted a young dark-haired boy
to his shoulders.

	"Whoa, Nicky," he laughed.  "When'd you get to be so tall?"  The
little boy giggled uncontrollably, then leaned forward and kissed the top
of Owen's head.  When Owen saw Daniel's brother and sister-in-law watching
him, he walked over, carefully steadying the little boy on his shoulders.

	"Mister and Mrs. Johnson, I'd like you to meet my best buddy,
Nicky."

	"Hi!"  The little boy released his grip on Owen to wave a greeting
with one hand.  "Owen's almost my big brother," he announced.  "He's
teaching me to read!" he added, proudly.  "I know big words, huh, Owen?" he
asked, craning forward in an attempt to look Owen in the face, then looking
back at the doctor's brother with an impish smile.

	"He comes over almost every day, after tending to Sam's Papa, just
so we can read.  Sam's Pops has been sick, so Owen's helping out," Nicky
added, in a serious voice.  "Just like you helped out when I was sick
n'all, huh, Owen?"  He absently ran his fingers through Owen's short hair.
"I don't re . . . remember much," he said, soberly.  "I was real small,
then.  But, I do 'member Owen carrying me, telling me everything would be
okay, and the hurts would go away soon."  Nicky leaned forward and, again,
kissed the top of Owen's head.

	"You're a busy man, Owen," Charlie Johnson smiled, moved by the
little boy's description of Owen's care.  "My brother mentioned how much he
depended on you when his arm was broken."

	"I only helped out, both with Daniel, and with Nicky.  The little
fella's folks needed a rest, so I lent a hand, sitting with him at night,
so they could get some sleep."

	"Now, I'm all better!" Nicky shouted.  "Yaaaaayyyy!" He pumped an
arm in the air.

	"Look how tall I am, Mama," he shouted, from his high perch, to the
couple who were approaching.

	"Mister and Mrs. Johnson," Owen began.  "These are little Nicky's
folks, Will and Peggy Saunders."

	"He's Doctor Daniel's brother," the boy announced to his parents.

	"Your son seems to think the world of Owen," Charlie Johnson
smiled, wishing his wife would wipe the sour expression off her face, as
she watched the young man and laughing child.

	'She's going to make a scene,' Charlie inwardly groaned.  'I just
know it.'

	Nicky's father glanced toward his son, who was now playing with
Owen's short hair, asking if he was going to be bald, like an egg.  Owen
merely laughed, excusing himself, then walked away to join another group of
people, all of whom greeted him and Nicky warmly.

	"Everyone who's ever met him, thinks the world of Owen." Will
Saunders, responding to Charlie Johnson's observation, cast a fond glance
toward where his son's laughter could be heard.  "Y'know," Will continued,
turning back to the doctor's brother and his wife.  "I've never known
someone like Owen.  He is always smiling, always polite, always asking to
lend a hand."

	"Yet, he likes boys," Grace Johnson muttered, with a sniff,
ignoring her husband's outraged expression, and his hiss of, "Grace!"
Charlie Johnson took his wife's arm, and squeezed, while doing his best to
apologize to Nicky's parents, with his eyes.

	"Mrs. Johnson," Peggy Saunders began in a no-nonsense tone.  "Owen
is full of love.  Just because he is emotionally attracted to men, does not
mean he will behave inappropriately around Nicky, or anyone else.  What he
feels for Lucas and Sam in no way differs from what Will and I feel toward
one another."  She went on, conversationally, noting Charlie Johnson's
white-knuckled grip on his wife's arm.  "Owen loves Nicky, as he would his
own brother.  And Nicky," her voice softened, "could not ask to have a more
kind-hearted and caring person as a friend, even if they truly were
brothers."

	Grace Johnson responded to a slight, attention-getting, shake of
her arm, with an irritated glance toward her husband, then at the firm grip
he had on her arm.  "Listen to the woman, Grace," he said, through his
teeth.  "I believe Mrs. Saunders and her husband are showing remarkable
restraint in responding to your insult, to them, and their son's, friend."

	"Owen is the most tender, kind-hearted, and loving person I've ever
had the good fortune to know," Peggy Saunders continued.  "He helps when
others only think of helping.  He never asks anything in return, and he
keeps on helping . . . not only us but everyone.  As far as my husband,
Will, and I are concerned, Owen is as close to a saint-on-earth as we are
ever likely to meet."

	"Okay, Peg," Will murmured, touching his wife's arm, aware, as she
was not, of the people who were quietly watching.  "I'm sure Mrs. Johnson
understands the depth of our feelings."

	"Not only ours, Will!"

	Will Saunders smiled at his wife.  "I know, Peg.  If Mrs. Johnson
does not believe us, all she needs to do is ask any of these folks what
their thoughts are about Owen."  He gestured to the silent onlookers.  "I'm
confident she will receive the same answer.  I am thankful, though, that
Owen was not close enough to hear the kind lady's comments."

	"Thank you.  Thank you both." Charlie Johnson did his best to
smile.  "I've heard my brother wax poetic about the young man, and what a
great help he was when Daniel's arm was broken.  It was a pleasure to
finally meet him and his partners."  He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the
people who were still standing nearby.  "And . . . please . . . forgive any
distress we may have caused you."  He flicked a glance in his wife's
direction.  "Have no fear, the narrow-mindedness will be addressed."

	"Hi," a young girl said, smiling up at the doctor's brother and
sister-in-law.  Peggy Saunders laid a tender hand on the girl's shoulder.

	"This is, Ophelia . . . Opie.  She's Owen's youngest sister."

	Opie soberly shook hands with the two people she'd been introduced
to.  "I heard you talking about Owen," she said, meeting Grace Johnson's
eyes.  She turned her attention to the doctor's brother.  "If you haven't
gotten some food yet, I'll show you where it is.  There's candy, too, but
we're not supposed to eat it until after dinner.  So, we'll have to wait
for that."  She took Daniel's brother by the hand, and motioned for the
man's wife to follow.

	"Let's go see what there is to eat.  I'll . . . troduce."  She
frowned, unable to think of the word.

	"Introduce?" Charlie supplied.

	"Yeah, that," Opie nodded, looking up at the adult, with a smile.
"I'll introduce you to people, too," she continued, her voice fading into
the general conversation, as Grace Johnson trailed her husband and the
young girl, absently rubbing her arm and appearing slightly dazed by the
reaction her comment had caused.

	"Has my sister-in-law been causing trouble?" the doctor asked Will
and Peggy Saunders, as he quietly approached, hand-in-hand, with his wife.
Daniel glanced in the direction the couple in question had gone, doing his
best to hide an expression of distaste.  "As Corey would say, 'Just being
in the same room with that woman would turn milk sour.'"

	Peggy Saunders' cheeks were still flushed with anger.  "I'm sorry
to say it, Daniel, but that woman is so narrow-minded, she can see through
a keyhole, with both eyes."

	"Why, Peg!" her husband laughed.  "Did anyone ever tell you how
beautiful you are when you're riled up?"

	Peggy playfully slapped her husband's hand, smiling her apologies
to Daniel.

	"Every family has their own version of my sister-in-law," the
doctor murmured.  "I'm only sorry that my brother's the one who's been
saddled with her.  Charlie is a good guy.  Thankfully, for everyone, Grace
isn't like this all the time."

	"Opie will handle her," Bea grinned, nodding to where her daughter
was seriously talking to the older woman, while the woman's smiling husband
looked on.

	"I'm sorry, Mrs. Johnson," Opie said, looking up at the prim,
bespectacled woman.  "But, I'm wondering if it makes you feel good to say
bad things about my brother.  Give him a chance.  He's a real good guy.  He
doesn't deserve being called names."

	Without another word, she retook Charlie Johnson's hand.  "Now
. . . let's get some food," she announced, leaving the sputtering woman
behind.

	Charlie looked over his shoulder.  "Hey, Grace," he shouted.
"Follow, or don't.  Opie and I are going to have some fun.  Right, Opie?"

	The little girl looked up and smiled, then agreed with a decisive
nod.  "Yep.  What kind of food do you want, Mister Johnson?" she asked,
surveying the heavily laden row of tables.  "We've got lots!"  Neither Opie
nor Charlie Johnson seemed to care they'd left Grace Johnson to wander
toward the table by herself.  Word of her behavior had spread, and she
found herself alone and ignored by the smiling and laughing people of
Riverton.

	"Mama!" Opie called, a few minutes later, as she jumped and waved a
hand to attract her mother's attention.  "Corey's bringing out the cake!"

	From nearby, Millie looked up with a broad smile.  "Did someone
mention cake?" she asked, to no one in particular.  She barely spared a
distracted grin in Bea and Daniel's direction, as she scurried toward Opie,
and the promise of cake.

	"It's not often we're able to celebrate like this," the town's
mayor, Alan Hurst, said, as he walked up to Daniel, Bea, and the Saunders'.
He beamed with pleasure, scanning the crowd, as if he was personally
responsible for each person's presence, then shook Daniel's hand and
tenderly embraced Bea.  "I can't tell you how pleased I am . . . with all
this, Bea," he added.  "You deserve all the happiness in the world.

	"Um, ah," he hesitated, looking from Bea to Daniel.  "Do either of
you happen to know if young Lucas has political aspirations?"

	"I think not, Alan," she laughed.  "I do believe he has a vision
for Riverton, though.  I imagine that he'll be a man of consequence, both
here and elsewhere, by the time he's through."

	The mayor wasn't sure he liked the answer to his question.  His
gaze flicked from Bea, and her husband, to Lucas, who was standing with
Owen and Sam, surrounded by a large group of townsfolk, telling them a
story, complete with hand gestures, and lots of laughter, punctuated with
the sound of Nicky's voice.

	"Ah, yes."  Mayor Hurst cleared his throat.  "Um, ah, no politics.
That's nice.  Um . . . good.  Um, ah . . . best wishes to you both," he
managed to say, his grin flickering, like the neon sign in Sally's
restaurant window.

	"Thank you, Alan," Bea smiled, touched by the sentiments of a man
who Jonathan, her ex-husband, had always claimed as a close friend.

	"Mama!" Opie called.

	"Coming!"


----------


	"I am so proud of him, Olivia," Neil Horton said, as he and his
wife sat on the terrace of their home, surrounded by blossoming trees and
the sound of songbirds.  "Lucas has come up with an absolutely wonderful
business concept, which fills a need his potential consumers were not even
aware existed.  He's considered financing, the pitfalls he will likely
face, employment questions, distribution of his products, investing in the
area in which he is operating, expansion . . . everything.  I've got people
on staff with high powered degrees who do not have as much common sense as
our boy."

	Olivia Horton smiled, fondly thinking of her son, who called her
almost daily.  "He sounds happier than I have ever known him to be.  The
annoying cynical streak seems to have been replaced by a cautious optimism.
When I asked about the change, he merely laughed, and told me that he was
in love."  She recalled her son's lighthearted laughter.

	"I personally believe he is happy, because his plans seem to be
working out, of course, and that he's doing it all, away from your shadow."
She held up a restraining hand.  "Oh, I know . . . you and Bailey's father,
George, are backing him, but Lucas has invested every penny of his own
money in this endeavor.  For the first time, he's experiencing the heady
feeling of success.  In Riverton, he has become precisely the person he's
always dreamt of being.

	"I had lunch with Bailey last week," Lucas' mother continued, "and
I must say, the young man has undergone the most miraculous transformation.
Of course, I had heard he was making great strides, but . . . I had no
idea.  If we think Lucas has changed, Bailey is an entirely new individual
. . . a most wonderful individual, I might add," Olivia grinned in
recollection.  "He is so unlike the young man we knew, it is . . ." she
hesitated, "quite amazing.  He tells me the whole town of Riverton thinks
the world of Lucas.  According to Bailey, he fits right in."

	Neil grinned, full of paternal approval.  "I am so pleased, Olivia.
There was a time there . . ."  He shook his head, recalling his rebellious,
wastrel son.

	His wife's raised brow reaction to his comment, caused him to
explain.  "I was just thinking about how, until Lucas met Owen, he seemed
intent on questioning everything which had to do with me or the business.
Do you suppose that he's out there, in Riverton, pleased beyond measure,
that his ideas are proving to be valid?"

	"You never claimed his ideas were bad, Neil," Olivia began.  "You
just wanted him to think before acting.  I believe he's doing precisely
that.  Both of you should be proud of yourselves."

	"Of course," Neil added, "some of Lucas' success can be attributed
to Owen's influence in Riverton.  Some, but not all.  Perhaps, not even
most of his success."

	"I am relieved that his . . . unusual . . . relationship seems to
be working," Lucas' mother mused.  "It was all I could do to not question
his sanity, when he told me of it."  She chuckled, causing her husband to
look up.  "You need not say anything, Mother," he said to me.  "Even though
we're a couple thousand miles apart, I can see you, sitting in your study,
on that needlepoint chair of yours, pursing your lips . . . wondering if
I've lost touch with emotional reality."

	The humor drained away.  "There were times . . . when I was
considering what to do . . . that I would have agreed with you.  But, you
have to understand the reasons for it all.  I am deeply, irrevocably, in
love with Owen.  I can't speak to whether his feelings toward me are as
deep as mine, only that they do exist.

	"At the same time, Owen loves Sam, just as Sam loves him.  They
have always loved one another.  It is I who could be called the interloper,
here.

	"Neither of them could ever be truly happy without the other, just
as I could never be truly happy living without Owen.  After all, that's why
I moved to Riverton . . . to be with him.

	"I thought long and hard about my feelings for Sam, before asking
him to join Owen and me.  At the time, I cared for Sam.  He was much more,
to me, than a close friend, but . . . I was not sure if my actions would
eventually cause more pain than we were feeling, at the time.  Now
. . . Sam has become more than the close friend I have always thought him
to be.  He has a wonderful sense of humor, Mother.  He is tender, to both
me and Owen.  He does not focus his attention on Owen over me, or vice
versa.  He is warm and affectionate and . . . loving.  If one were to ask
me today what my feelings are for him, I would have to say that I have
grown to love him."

	Before his mother could comment, he continued.  "I am aware our
relationship is unusual.  It has raised a few eyebrows here, too, but
everyone must remember that it is our relationship . . . Sam's, Owen's, and
mine.  Our relationship with one another will stand or fall on what we do,
not on what people's perception of what a relationship should be."

	Olivia chuckled.  "You have subtly put me in my place, young man.
It is comforting to know that this thing is the result of more than
overactive gonads."

	"Gonads?" Lucas asked, his voice rising, and carrying a distasteful
shiver.  "I hate that word!  It's almost as distasteful as cunnilingus.
Ugh."  He joined his mother's light-hearted laughter.

	"Mother," he asked, suddenly solemn.  "Have I displeased either you
or Dad . . . with what I'm attempting to do, here in Riverton, or with my
relationship?  Y'know, I've always heard that small towns are so
closed-minded, shutting out newcomers as well as new ideas.  I have not
found Riverton to be so.  I love it here, Mother.  I love the surroundings,
the people, the sound of a single dog barking in the still night air.  I
love the sight of the morning mist hanging over the fields, and the
towering black clouds, rumbling with the sound of thunder.  I love . . . I
love . . . everything, absolutely everything . . . the fireflies in the
trees at night, the smell of the damp earth, the sky which stretches from
horizon to horizon, and the soft evening air, as we take a walk.  I am
surrounded by people who care for me, and for whom I care, in return.  I
could not ask for anything more."

	Olivia paused, overcome with the beauty her son described.

	"Mother?"

	"Yes, dear.  I'm still here.  I am moved by your description of
your surroundings, and of your feelings.  I am pleased you've found
someplace to live that is to your liking."

	"I have found more than that, Mother.  I have found, home."


----------


	"We're coming!" Bea answered her youngest daughter's insistent call
that they hurry to see Corey's creation.

	"Well, come faster!" Opie called, with a repeated hand motion.

	Bea stopped next to her daughter, unable to believe her eyes.
Corey and Jonah had just finished placing a large two-layer cake on the
center of a table, in a space especially cleared for it.  'Oh . . . my,'
was her first thought.

	"Corey made it!" Jonah proudly beamed at his partner, who was doing
his best to hide his blush at the sheer intimacy of the expression on
Jonah's face.  'No one's ever looked at me like that,' he thought.  He met
Jonah's proud glance with a smile, and tenderly touched his partner's hand,
a small gesture of familiarity he would never have expected to be able to
take, in such a small town.  'I mean something to these people, and, in the
short while I've been here, they've all grown to mean more to me than I can
say.'  He swallowed past a lump in his throat.  'So . . . this is what it
means to be in love . . . not only with a person, but a place.'

	"Oh, Sweetheart," Bea said, as she rushed around the table,
embracing him and kissing him on the cheek.  "What a wonderful thing to do.
It's beautiful!  Thank you," she added, tenderly touching his cheek before
turning to her new husband.  "Look, Daniel, at what Corey's done for us."
She gestured to the wedding cake, replete with white icing and slightly
impressionistic versions of both pink and white roses, also rendered in
icing.  The two figures gracing the center of the cake, caused Bea to
smile.  Not much more than stick figures, with smiling faces, the two
figures were enclosed in an outline of a heart.  And, in case anyone had
trouble recognizing who was whom, Corey had thoughtfully spelled out both
her and Daniel's name, with an arrow pointing to the correct figure.

	"It's the most beautiful wedding cake I've ever seen," Daniel
smiled, as he shook Corey's hand.  "Thank you, so much, for all of your
hard work."  He grinned.  "Did you say you graduated from culinary school?"

	"It's just made from a mix, guys," Corey protested, blushing
furiously at the attention he was receiving.

	"Lots of mixes," Jonah added, pretending he didn't see Corey's
playful look of irritation.  "Lots and lots of mixes," his voice trailed
off.  "Lots.  Owen has volunteered to eat all the ones which didn't turn
out so well."

	"Hmm, how good of him," Daniel grinned, at his wife's soft snort of
amusement.  "No wonder he runs so much."

	On a nearby table, a slightly smaller creation sat, the poor cousin
to the confection everyone was oohing and aahing over.

	"My dear boy," Millie cooed, making her way to Corey's side, and
holding on to one of his arms, appearing faint at the sight which greeted
her.  "For whom is this work of art intended?" she asked, tearing her gaze
away from the creation to its creator, and batting her eyelashes, pointing
to the cake with a carefully enameled fingernail.

	"I baked it especially for you, Millie," Corey grinned, "but," he
added, teasingly, "I had no idea you don't like thick layers of icing."  He
reached for the cake, as if to remove it from the table, but was stopped by
the startlingly firm grip of the ample woman's hand on his arm.

	"Now, who would be spreading such a scandalous rumor?" She glanced
from side to side, ignoring the laughter of those who were watching.  "I
never met anything containing sugar, that I did not absolutely love," she
commented.  "That accounts for my voluptuous figure," she concluded.  "So,"
she said, turning back to the cake.  "I believe I'll start off with two
. . . large . . . pieces . . . as an appetizer.  You did say the entire
cake was mine, did you not?

	"I'll come back for the rest, later," she concluded.  "All mine,"
she smiled brightly at Art, who was standing close by, before returning her
attention to Corey, who was about to slice the cake.

	"What a dear man you are," she sighed, leaning close and pointing
to where she thought the cake should be cut.  Corey grinned and added the
extra inch or two.  When she was sure the cake would be sliced where she
indicated, she turned to those looking on.  "Corey is a true Southern
gentleman.  He realizes that cakes . . . big ones . . . with lots of icing
. . . are the perfect way to attract any woman he wants."  She paused, then
sheepishly glanced toward the young man, and continued.

	"I'm told men are also attracted to a guy who can bake a cake.
Especially men with muscles," she added, playfully squeezing one of Corey's
upper arms, and turning toward the onlookers, silently mouthing the word,
"wow!"  Amid the laughter, she turned to Jonah.  "You are so lucky, my
young friend."  She then turned back to Corey and said, in an aside,

	"Put some weight on the boy.  If a good wind comes up, he'll blow
away, thin as he is.  Either that, or keep a firm grip on him."  She
pointed an elegant fingernail to a lonely icing rose, then to one of the
plates in her hands, nodding approval when Corey slipped the rose to a
place alongside one of the large pieces of pastry.

	"A rose for one of my favorite women," he grinned.

	Millie blushed.  "You devil, you!  You don't happen to have an
available brother . . . who can bake . . . do you?" she asked, with a
hopeful expression.

	"No ma'am, but, now that I've figured out how to do it, I'll be
pleased to bake you a cake for all your special occasions."

	Millie immediately set the two plates on the table and fanned
herself with a hand, then delicately dabbed at her forehead with a lace
handkerchief she kept stored in the cleft of her breasts.  "I feel all
flushed with excitement!"  She breathlessly turned to Daniel and Bea.  "An
offer like that is almost as good as being proposed to."


----------


	Abigail helped carry the cake across the street, from the park to
Millie's store.  Opie trailed behind.  It had been arranged that the two
young ladies would stay with Millie for a short while until their mother's
sister, Kathy Walker, would pick them up and take them to Evanston, while
Bea and Daniel shared an in-town honeymoon.

	"Y'like Corey, don't you, Miss Millie?" Opie asked, as she climbed
onto one of the chairs in Millie's store, and happily waited for the
promised ice cream float.  Her sister rolled her eyes, wondering what else
Opie would ask.

	Millie came from behind the counter carrying three ice cream
floats, and sat one in front of each of the girls, taking the third for
herself.  "Yes, Opie, I like him.  Lucas is also pretty special, and, of
course, your brothers and Sam.  Very nice young men, all of them."

	"D'you want to marry him, like Mama married Doctor Daniel?"

	Millie laughed.  "No, sweetie.  Corey is a nice boy, but, as much
as I hate to admit it, I'm old enough to be his mother."

	"Opie, Corey's not gonna be marryin' anyone," her sister said,
hoping to cut off her younger sister's questions.  Sometimes Opie could ask
the most uncomfortable things.

	"Abigail's right, Sweetie.  Corey loves your brother, Jonah, not
me, or anyone else.  He likes girls, like you and your sister, and women,
like me or Sally McKenzie, but he can't love any one of us, not like he
does your brother.  He's made in such a way that he can only love a man.
I'm sure there have been plenty of girls in his life who were disappointed
because Corey couldn't return their affection, but it's better for both
him, and those girls, that he's not trying to do something he's not cut out
to do.  That only leads to unhappiness."

	"D'ya think that Pops wasn't cut out to like girls, like Corey, and
that's why he was unhappy?"

	"Opie!" Abigail hissed.

	"What?"

	Millie made a calming motion with a hand.  "No, Opie.  I believe
your Pops liked women, and, at least when he and your Mama got married,
they were very happy.  I remember them laughing a lot.  But, something
happened to him.  It wasn't something he had any control over, so, it's not
like, all of a sudden, he said to himself, 'I'm gonna start bein' unhappy.'
It was just somethin' that happened.  It's not his fault that he ended up
the way he was.  Your mama didn't cause it, nor did you, Abigail, or your
brothers.  It was just something that happened.  It was sad, but, there was
nothing anyone could have done to prevent it."

	"I'm glad Mama and Doctor Johnson are happy.  I hope nothin'
happens to either of 'em, like what happened to Pops."

	"Me, too, Sweetie."  Millie turned to Abigail, who was idly
stirring her float.

	"Are you bothered by something?  You're awfully quiet," Millie
asked, shifting her attention to Opie's sister.

	Abigail smiled crookedly.  "I was just thinkin' how it seems like
all the nice guys . . . like other guys.  I mean, Owen has two of 'em!  I
wish there were a couple of guys who like girls around, for me to choose
from.  My own age, y'know."  Abigail smiled.  "Y'suppose it's something in
Riverton's water, or something?"

	Millie laughed.  "Who knows?  I doubt it, though.  There are lots
of men who drink the same water, and they're interested in women."

	Abigail grinned crookedly.  "It was just a thought."

	"I know you're not going to like hearing me say this, Abigail, but
you are only seventeen.  Y'never know when you might meet a nice young boy
. . . who likes girls," Millie added.  "I'm sure there must be a couple of
'em out there."

	"Well, they're not in Riverton, that's for sure."

	"Maybe not, but . . . who knows . . . maybe some of the boys who'll
be coming to town from Evanston, to work in Lucas' greenhouses, will be to
your liking."  When Abigail's eyes brightened, Millie leaned closer.  "Just
don't let 'em drink the water, eh?"

	"Should I warn people about the water?" Opie asked, her eyes wide,
as she glanced warily at the glass of ice water in front of her.


----------


	"C'mon, lazybones!" Jonah called, as he, Owen, Lucas, and Sam,
jogged back to the park's bandstand, where they were cleaning up after
Daniel and Bea's wedding.  Corey lagged behind the others, pausing to speak
with Art, Riverton's ubiquitous barber, and Charlie Johnson, the doctor's
brother.  Before turning back to the two men, he raised an arm
acknowledging Jonah's call.

	"In a minute!"  He turned back to the two men.  "Thanks for the
soda, Art."  He wiped his brow with his t-shirt, then returned it to where
it hung out of his back pocket.  He nodded toward where his four friends
were stuffing trash bags with the last of the rubbish.  "Tough work, that."
His engaging smile, mobile features, and easygoing manner, made him an
instant friend to all who met him.  Art grinned to himself.  Millie, the
woman who ran the shop next to his, hadn't stopped talking about what a
wooonderfullll young man he was.

	"So polite, and so good looking."

	Art couldn't help himself.  "And, not interested in women."  He
quickly added, "no matter how voluptuous."  He tenderly laid a hand over
Millie's.  "He's also more than thirty years younger'n you, dear heart."

	Millie bowed her head.  "I know you're right, of course.  It's just
that I don't feel voluptuous, up here."  She pointed to her head.  "I still
think of myself as that young girl who could make young men, like Corey,
laugh."

	Art looked away.  "I was one of those young men, and, to me, you're
still the same girl I met way back in high school."  Millie bit her lip and
closed her fingers around Art's.  She seemed unable to trust her voice, but
did manage to silently mouth her thanks.

	"But, we have to face facts.  We're getting older.  The world's
beginnin' to pass us by, whether we like it or not."  His mouth twisted
into a smile.  "At least, with people like, Corey, Lucas, Sam, Jonah, and
Owen, handlin' things, I'm feeling that Riverton's not gonna dry up and
become a ghost town.  I wouldn't want that."  He patted her hand.  "We
. . . the two of us . . . have sorta run things 'round here, for more years
than I can count.  I'm glad that the new blood is so likable."

	"D'ya think that young Lucas might be plannin' on opening a grocery
store, like so many people are thinkin'?" Millie asked.  "I'm not sure
whether it might be true, or if it's just people wishin' he would.  He's
changin' so much else, and a new store would sure put the wind up ol'
Maxine's britches."

	Art chuckled.  "I've given up tryin' to guess what those boys might
do next.  But, you're right.  Ol' Maxine does need a dose of reality."

	"The bully," Millie mumbled, with an unrepentant glance at Art.

	She slowly drew a crosshatch design on the checkered table cloth of
one of the tables set up in the small section of her shop set aside as an
ice cream parlor.  "If he is planning on a grocery store, I'm wonderin' if
he might consider using my store, and letting me work in the place."  She
looked at her best friend for his opinion.

	"Ask him.  Lucas won't feed you a line.  Ask him straight-out, and
he'll give you an honest answer.  There's no beatin' round the bush with
that man."  Art sat back, causing the spindly metal chair to squeak under
his weight.

	Art drew himself back to the present.  Corey was standing in front
of him.

	"I've never had a chance to introduce myself, Mister Johnson,"
Corey smiled, showing off the dimples which seemed to set Millie's heart to
pounding, as he shook Charlie's hand.  "I'm Corey Hatfield, the partner of
one of those clowns."

	"So you do not consider yourself a clown?" Charlie laughed,
responding to the young man's infectious smile.

	"Of course I am!" Corey leaned close, playfully lowering his voice.
"Though a couple of those guys are a little more clown-like than the rest
of us."  His eyes sparkled with mischief, as Charlie barked a laugh, then
looked over his shoulder at another call.  "Better go, gentlemen.  I
wouldn't want to be labeled a slacker."  He waved a salute, then turned and
jogged back to his friends.

	"Those guys have brought life to a tired-out old town." Art paused,
looking at the doctor's brother from beneath lowered eyelids.  "They've
also made many of the citizens reexamine their prejudices."

	The smile faded from Charlie Johnson's face, as he looked away,
embarrassed.  "You've heard about my wife's thoughtless remark, I see."
Charlie shook his head.  "I'm forever trying to run damage control for that
woman.  She does not think before she speaks.  She doesn't think and, more
importantly, she doesn't care what her offhand comments do to people.  All
it takes is one appearance, and wham, there's fallout to deal with."

	Charlie smiled.  "My mother has strongly urged me to either keep
Grace locked away, or to invest in a big role of duct tape, and use it to
seal her mouth shut . . . permanently.  My sister's suggestions haven't
been so charitable."

	His smile grew.  "I was so pleased to have Owen's little sister
confront Grace and ask why she would say bad things about her brother,
without even knowing him."  He chuckled.  "Maybe having someone other than
me face down my wife, might get the message through.  Right now, she's back
at Daniel's old apartment, sulking.  If I'm right, when I get back she'll
be whining about how everyone in Riverton is so standoffish and
close-minded."

	Art hoped his nod was understanding.  He really did feel sympathy
for Charlie.  The doctor had often spoken of his "unfortunate" brother, and
the woman to whom he was married.  Today though, was his first experience
with Grace Johnson.  "I only hope Owen hasn't heard of what's been said
about him.  But, with the speed at which news travels around here, he is as
sure to hear about it, as he is sure to be hurt by someone thinking bad
about him, for no reason.  You've probably heard nothing but good of the
young man.  One thing very few people realize is how sensitive he is.  His
father was . . ."  Art paused.

	"Let's just say that Owen endured much.  He always was a sensitive
boy, and became more so as he grew up, and things became worse, at home.
He naively believes that since he believes everyone is his friend, that
everyone will like him, in return.  It's unfortunate Mrs. Johnson didn't
keep her thoughts to herself until she had been around him for a little
while.  If she had, I don't believe she would have hinted that he would
behave inappropriately around Nicky . . . or anyone else, for that matter."

	The two men looked up at a sudden burst of laughter.  Owen was
laying, face-up, sprawled on a folded table, which was being carried by the
four other men.  Each was playfully staggering under Owen's weight, and, on
a count of three, dumped him onto the lawn.  As Art and Charlie watched,
Owen sprang up, grabbed his brother's ankle, and dragged him to the grass.
In a moment, all five men were wrestling, amid shouts and laughter.

	"People, such as my wife, who want to believe bad things about
someone, will find evidence to support their beliefs, even in such innocent
fun-loving behavior as that," Charlie Johnson nodded, toward the laughing
men, who had now climbed to their feet and were brushing one another off,
amid continuing jokes and horseplay.

	"G'day," Owen called, waving to Art and Charlie, as the young men
turned toward their apartments.  "We're all done."  His wave was echoed by
that of the other men.

	"Thanks for the drinks, Art," Sam called, then jogged to keep up
with his friends, who had rounded the corner of the building and
disappeared.


~ to be continued ~


	Thank you for taking the time to read my work.  I always welcome
your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts.  If you would like me to send
you a pic of the character(s), please ask.