Date: Fri, 8 Jul 2011 12:33:03 -0600
From: Roy <roynm@mac.com>
Subject: Owen - Chapter 52

Owen

Chapter fifty-two

By Roy Reinikainen


	"Olivia, Neil," George Wilkins, Bailey's father asked, turning to
his two friends; "That young man certainly looks and sounds like your son,
but whatever happened to the quiet boy we always knew?  This version is so
. . . vibrant!"

	"Did you see how he and Sam were roughhousing and laughing?" Neil
asked his wife.

	"Are those his buildings?" Olivia asked, turning to Bailey,
gesturing to the two brick and cut-stone buildings close-by.  The two large
second floor windows of each apartment, facing the street, were separated
by a two story glass-filled arch and doors, presumably leading to the
upstairs apartments.  Downstairs, it appeared as if there were two offices,
again, with large windows and bright awnings providing shade from the sun.
A large tub of yellow flowers flanked the central doorway, while a flag
lazily moved in the warm summer air.

	"Lovely," Louise said, then smiled, when everyone turned to her.
"Well, it was the first time everyone stopped talking long enough for me to
say anything!" she laughed.  "And they are lovely.  Very . . . solid."

	Bailey took over as his soft spoken mother seemed to have run out
of words to describe the buildings.  "Lucas has offices on the first floor,
and the upstairs houses two apartments . . . big ones.  You'll be surprised
when you see them," he added.  "They look like something you'd see back in
the city.  Lucas may be becoming a country boy, but there's lots of city
left in him.  In fact, he's got this huge photograph of the city at night,
hanging in his living room.  I mean this thing is a monster!  It's as if
one is looking out the window of his old apartment.

	"Well, come on, all.  Let's get your stuff inside.  I need to talk
with Sally and let her know we're all coming to dinner, then find Riley.
Knowing him, he and Owen are probably lounging around, na . . ." he caught
himself before he told his and Lucas' parents how Riley and Owen, and
probably Corey, were probably lounging around, naked.  'Hell,' he thought.
'I'd like to get in a little naked time with the guys, too!'

	He held the door open but paused, at Olivia's indrawn breath.  "Oh,
Neil!" she said, in a rough voice, pointing to the intricately lettered
gold sign on the etched glass door.  "Look!"  She tenderly ran her fingers
over the name, turning to Bailey and his parents.

	"The Grace Kreiger Bed and Breakfast," she said, her eyes
threatening to overflow.  "Grace Kreiger was my mother.  She and Lucas
always had a special relationship.  He was devastated when she passed
away."  Olivia looked at the sign, then turned back to the Wilkins'.  "She
always told him to believe in himself and he would go far . . . and to
remember her advice when he arrived."  Olivia melted into her husband's
embrace.  "What a sweet gesture.  Mother would be pleased."

	"Come on, Dear," Neil said, coaxing his wife into the building, but
not before she lovingly ran her fingers over the name, as if capturing its
essence.


----------


	"May I help you, Maxine?" Art, the barber asked.  He glanced at her
hair, which seemed to never stay where she intended.  "I don't imagine
you've come to my shop for a haircut?" he ventured, raising his eyebrows.
"And, if not, then I have to ask why you are here."  He caught a glimpse of
Lucas hugging a small woman, then a man who resembled Lucas, in another
twenty years.  "Are you, by any chance . . . hiding?"

	Maxine turned up her nose and sniffed her disdain.  She nodded to
the laughing people across the street.  "S'more freaks being imported into
Riverton to seduce our children?  I've always said that you allow one of
'em in, and they bring their friends."

	"I presume you mean Lucas Horton?"

	"Yeah, the lead freak.  No, wait.  That would be that Owen kid.
There's a freak if there ever was one.  His father was always right about
him.  'Shoulda killed him at birth,' Jonathan once said."  She snorted.  "I
agree!  The world would be a better place without people like him fouling
the air.

	Art ground his teeth, wanting nothing more than to strangle the
scarecrow of a woman and put everyone out of their misery.

	"Who're those people?" Maxine added.

	Art took a steadying breath.  "Those are Lucas' parents and their
good friends, who've come to our friendly town, to visit."

	"Friendly?" Maxine laughed.  "No one here's friendly."

	"Hmm," Art murmured, then could hold himself back no longer.  "To
you perhaps.  Now scoot.  Get out of my doorway.  I don't want you scarin'
off customers."  When Maxine drew herself up, ready to give Art a piece of
her mind, he interrupted.

	"I said scoot!  That means, leave.  Get out of here!  You're
hurting business."  He made shooing motions with both hands.  "Go!  Get
out!"

	With hands on hips, Art watched the self-proclaimed enforcer of
Riverton's morals, scuttle away, her ever-present smoldering cigarette held
tightly between two claw-like fingers.  Art shook his head.  "She's not
gonna be happy till she's caused some sort of big trouble."

	He laughed as a favorite saying of his mother's came back to him,
when he thought of the town grocer and her wrinkled face, and steely eyes.
"A face perfectly suited for radio."


----------


	A half hour later, the parents were sitting in the parlor, waiting
for the young men to arrive.  Each had either a cup of coffee or tea, and
had been served by a smiling middle aged woman, wearing a crisply pressed
white apron.

	"Look, Neil!" Olivia murmured, in surprise.  "This is the same
china pattern we have back home!  I didn't know he even paid attention to
such things.  And, the flowers!" she said, admiring the arrangement gracing
the center of the coffee table.

	"Oh, yes, ma'am," their hostess said, surveying the room with a
pleased smile.  "Mister Horton has standards!  We have fresh flowers every
other day," she added proudly.  "You'll love the breakfasts, I'm sure.  He
told me once that he wants each morning's breakfast to be as nice as those
he had when he was growing up.  He puts on quite a spread for our guests.

	"'We represent Riverton,' he told us.  We always want to look our
best!'

	"He's a wonderful boss.  He tells us what he expects, then turns
the three of us loose to see that things are done right."

	"Did you know that he's our son?" Olivia smiled.

	"Oh!" the hostess exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth, her
eyes wide.  "And here I go, rambling on about him!  M'husband has always
told me I talk too much."  She paused, as if biting her tongue.  "Well, you
must be very proud of him.  He's a wonderful man.  Fits into Riverton real
good."


----------


	"My apologies, men," Neil Horton said, doing his best to stifle a
prodigious yawn.  "Good food and late hours make me want to rest my weary
bones.  Olivia and I are a couple time zones ahead of you, so, for us, it's
early in the morning.  I'm anxious to sample the comfy mattresses our
hostess describes.  In fact, I do believe I hear George snoring."

	Olivia turned toward the stairs, frowning, until she realized her
husband was teasing.

	"Oh, yes!  Of course!"  Lucas said, quickly standing.  "It's just
so great to have both of you here for a visit, I've lost track of time."

	Olivia patted her son on the shoulder.  "No need for apologies,
dear.  We're happy to be here to see you and . . . ," she said, turning to
the six other men who followed Lucas' lead, and stood.  She glanced toward
the stairway as her husband yawned and distractedly waved good night.

	"Okay, boys," Olivia said.  "Line up.  I want to give each of you a
hug before heading upstairs to join sleeping beauty."  She held out her
arms.

	"Owen," she murmured, as she held the man she'd grown to care for,
as if he were a son, close to her.  "I am so pleased to find you well."
She held him at arm's length.  "I've missed your smile, but have enjoyed
your frequent telephone calls, enormously.  You are such a sweetheart."

	She turned to the dark haired man standing at Owen's side.  She and
he had met only briefly during Sam's Christmas visit to the City.  Olivia
took his hands.  "Sam.  It's so good to see you again.  You are such a
wonderful addition to our family.  Every time I speak with them, Lucas and
Owen tell me how wonderful it is, having you as part of the relationship.
In case you didn't know, you have made both of them very happy."

	She turned to the next person in line, as always, amazed at the
changes the man had undergone.  "Bailey," she smiled, before hugging him.
"You are such a treasure.  I cannot tell you how honored I am to know you."
She grinned.  "I count you as one of my very best friends."  She leaned
closer, and murmured.  "I love our luncheons, spent together.  Thank you
for thinking of me."

	She took both of Corey's hands, as Bailey stepped away, appearing
slightly dazed.  "Corey . . ." Olivia said in her gentle voice.  "My boy,
with the wonderful laugh and dancing eyes."  She kissed him on the cheek,
then winked.  "I love your stories.

	"And, Jonah," she smiled, surprised at the blush, as she took the
young man's large hands.  She'd only known Jonah for a few hours, and
already thought highly of him.  He seemed a man of few words, and deep
passions, with lively eyes, a quick smile, and, like his brother,
constantly moving hands.  "Your mother must be a very special woman to have
both you and your brother as sons.  A lucky woman, indeed."  She lowered
her voice, as she embraced him.  "You be sure and take good care of Corey,
okay?"

	Jonah returned her hug.  "Yes ma'am.  I will.  Thank you."

	"And, Riley," she smiled, holding the man she barely knew, at arm's
length.  "The man who is so full of life it positively bubbles over, and
makes us all feel good.  It is an honor," she said, as she hugged the
surprised man.  "You and Bailey have chosen well.  I am happy for both of
you."

	"Thank you, ma'am," he responded.  "I'm not sure I deserve such
wonderful words."

	"Well, I think you do, so don't argue," she added, in a mock-severe
tone.

	"And lastly, my wonderful son," Olivia said, holding Lucas tightly.
"Thank you for remembering your grandmother, sweetheart.  She would be very
proud of you, just as your father and I are.  We love you dearly."  She
kissed him on the cheek, then backed up and surveyed the men who were such
an important part of her son's life.

	"Such wonderful men . . . all of you."


----------


	Corey paused and looked back over his shoulder, the last person to
leave the building, to see Olivia watching him.

	"Thank you, ma'am," he said.  "For being so nice to me."

	"You've not had nearly enough people tell you how special a person
you are, have you?" she asked, stepping closer and taking his hand.  When
he bowed his head, unable to answer, she continued.  "You are a special
man, Corey, special to Jonah, and all the others, and to me.  You remember
that, okay?

	"Owen and I have had some wonderful telephone conversations.  I
would welcome the opportunity to visit with you."  She grinned.  "I assure
you, I am not nearly as daunting as I seem at first.  I'm just a woman who
is fiercely protective of those who are important to her.  Lucas, and the
six of you fit into that category.

	"I always wanted a whole slew of sons, but I was blessed with only
one.  However, I'm very selfish.  If I can't have a bunch of sons, I can
certainly have a bunch of boys, all of whom mean a great deal to me."  She
touched his chin and tilted it upward.  "That mean's you, sweetheart."

	He nodded once, managed a choked 'thank you', then stepped out of
the building.  Before the door closed though, she saw Jonah waiting.


----------


	The short walk from the bed and breakfast to the apartments was
short and silent.  'Mother figures' are really tough on poor Corey,' Jonah
thought to himself, sneaking a glance to the man who walked at his left.
'He just doesn't know how to handle kindness from a woman.  First Mama, and
now Lucas' mother . . .'  He figuratively cleared his throat, finding it
difficult to call such a . . . powerful . . . woman, by her first name.
'Okay, Olivia.'  Even silently, he had a difficult time.

	"How y'doin'?" he asked, as Corey reached for the polished brass
door handle.  "It's tough on me when you clam up like this.  I don't know
what's goin' through your mind."

	"She treated me nicely." Corey released the door handle and spoke,
in a low voice, as if he were somehow surprised.

	"Of course she did!  What did you expect?"  Jonah took a deep
breath.  "Corey . . . your mother ignoring you, as you grew up, says
something about your mother, not about women in general.  Did you go all
quiet n'stuff when your woman teachers in college paid you a compliment, or
something?"

	Corey thought for a moment, slowly emerging from his melancholy
mood.  "No, but it's different with a teacher.  They have to treat everyone
the same.  Y'know, come t'think of it, I don't know any non-teacher-type
women, other than your mother, Millie, and now . . . Olivia."  He grinned
crookedly.  "I don't have a lot of experience, y'see?  Whenever I encounter
a woman, outside of a professional environment, I just . . . assume
. . . y'know, that she'll behave like what I experienced as a kid.  When
they treat me differently, I . . ." he shrugged, "I just don't know how to
handle it."  Corey looked toward the bed and breakfast, where the only
light was upstairs, probably in Lucas' parents' room.

	"I made a fool of myself, didn't I?"  Corey leaned against the
building.  "Oh, Jonah, what am I gonna do?  I just take things so
seriously."  He grinned crookedly.  "Y'know, I'm still traumatized by the
forest fire in the Bambi movie, and I must've seen that when I was five or
six!  I just don't get over things!"

	"We're gonna work on that."

	"Oh, geez!" Corey threw his head back, smiling as he spoke.
"You're just like your brother!  Why don't we get to work on some bad habit
of yours, or something?"

	"We'll take things one at a time.  Once you've got a handle on
yours, then we can search . . . and search . . . and
. . . . . . . . . . . . search for a bad habit of mine.  And . . . search,"
he added, with a grin.  When Corey rolled his eyes, Jonah laughed.  "See, I
got you to smile."

	He glanced into the building lobby, lit only by a spotlight
illuminating a potted palm and the large painting of the fields of grain.

	"I'd be willing to bet that the guys are all upstairs, naked as
jay-birds, wonderin' where we are.  They're probably imagining all sorts of
nasty things.  What say we go upstairs and see what they were figurin'
we're doing, then do it . . . in front of 'em?"  Jonah smiled brightly.
"I'm feeling sorta frisky.  How much you wanna bet that in no time flat,
we've got three bunches of guys all goin' at it."

	"So you really are an exhibitionist?"

	"Of course!  I love makin' everyone else jealous, 'cause I'm living
with the sexiest man of the whole bunch."

	Corey laughed.  "Flattery will get you whatever you wish."

	"Oh, good!  I've got a long list of wishes."

	"I guess we'd better go inside before I kiss you and rip your
clothes off, huh?"

	"No need to rip 'em off," Jonah said, in a deadpan voice, as he
slid his key card into the building's door lock, then held the door for
Corey.  "I can take 'em off just fine.  This is a new shirt, after all," he
said, as they climbed the stairs.


----------


	"He thanked me for being nice to him!" Olivia exclaimed, sitting on
the edge of the bed.  "The poor, poor, boy."

	When her husband failed to respond, other than with a soft snore,
she grinned tenderly, and looked around the room, once again, amazed at the
thought Lucas had put into everything .  "This is absolutely lovely," she
murmured.  'I feel as if I'm in a designer's book, and someone's going to
barge in and want to take pictures, then complain that Neil and I have
messed up the bed.'  She grinned, and turned off the bedside lamp.

	Neil had stopped snoring and Olivia was struck with the absolute
quiet, and the . . . darkness!  'This is amazing,' she thought to herself,
as she slid off the high bed and padded to one of the large corner windows
overlooking Riverton's dimly lit main street.  Quivering shadows of the
leaves of the tree outside the window draped over the window sill and
oriental rug.  A slight breeze, through the open windows, caused the sheer
drapery to stir.

	A small motion on the sidewalk caught her attention.  'Corey and
Jonah.'  The two men were standing close to one another as Jonah finished
speaking.  Corey seemed to laugh, then the two men disappeared inside the
building.

	'The poor, poor, boy,' she thought, once again.  'I'm so glad
someone as sensitive as Jonah has him in hand.  He seems so close to
. . . breaking . . . I don't know how much it would take before he can't
handle any more.'  Olivia eased herself into one of the room's comfortable
chairs and inhaled the light perfume of the rose bouquet on the small
marble-topped table at the chair's side.  She smiled, thinking of Lucas,
then sobered.  'I hope those two get some of Corey's problems tended to
before he has to face a major emotional challenge.'  She heaved a sigh.
'Even in Riverton, I'm sure there are such things.  The place cannot
possibly be as idyllic as it appears.  Somewhere, there is a thorn, just as
with these roses.'


----------


	"Didn't I tell you what we'd find?" Jonah chuckled, as he and Corey
walked into Owen's, Lucas', and Sam's apartment, to find the guys, lounging
around the room, naked, and laughing at something Riley was saying.

	Everyone except Owen, that is.  He was in the kitchen, looking into
the refrigerator, as always, searching for something to eat.  Sam was lying
on his back, lengthwise, on a sofa, his head resting on Lucas' lap.  Lucas
was absently running his fingers through Sam's thick hair, as Riley
finished a story about some ancestress of his who owned a pitch fork, and
got a thrill from poking boys in blue in their nether regions.  'I guess
the important part of the story was at the beginning,' Jonah frowned,
unable to see what would cause everyone to laugh.

	"Tell 'em about that snooty cousin of yours who bragged about
sewing his wild oats in young ladies all over the county, then sweated
bullets prayin' for a crop failure," Corey urged, as he and Jonah entered
the room, hand-in-hand.

	"And, while you're tellin' the story, Jonah and I are heading to
our place.  You guys are invited to watch . . . or, sow a few oats of your
own."  He laughed at the instant silence.  "I knew that would get you guys'
attention.  Owen can stay here, though.  He'd spend the night with his head
stuck in our refrigerator."

	"Hey!"

	"Jonah's mine, though!" Corey added, stepping closer and wrapping
an arm around his lover's waist.

	"I've got Bailey!" Riley promptly responded.  "And, yes, we'd love
to join you.  Bailey's been moaning about needin' to show off, for the
longest time."

	"I have not!"  Bailey paused a moment, while the laughter died
down.  "I can't say that I don't find the idea to be really exciting,
though."

	"And, I've decided to give up eating, for sex," Owen announced,
hurrying around the kitchen counter.  "With these two guys!" he added,
leaning over the back of the sofa and wrapping an arm around Lucas' and
Sam's shoulders.  "Aren't I lucky?  I've got two, and I've decided that
nothin' is gonna separate us."

	Jonah turned to Corey, his eyes wide, wondering if he was the only
person in the room to detect the significance of his brother's casual
announcement.  'Owen's not goin' away!'

	"I think it's my turn to be bottom," Owen continued, looking from
one of his partners to the other.

	"You were bottom last night," Lucas groaned . . . "and the two
nights before that."

	"Three," Sam corrected.  "Three nights."

	"Oh, yeah.  Three nights!"

	"I got it!" Owen shouted.

	"Sounds like he's gotten it at least four nights running," Riley
mused.

	"No!" Owen said, with an exasperated look.  "I mean, I've got an
idea!"

	"And, here, we'd about despaired of that ever happening," Lucas
added, in a dry voice.

	"Remember, men," Riley warned, finding it difficult not to laugh at
Owen's expression.  "Just cause his . . . idea . . . has been a long time
coming, doesn't mean it's gonna be profound.  So . . . try not to laugh."

	"Well, hell!" Owen laughed, his fists on his hips.  "The sooner you
let me finish, the sooner you can head over next door to fuck.  Okay?"  He
smiled at the instant silence.

	Lucas abruptly stood and rolled Sam off his lap, sending the man to
the floor with a thud and whoosh of expelled breath.  "I'm ready!" Lucas
announced, rubbing his hands together, in anticipation.

	"Well, the show can't get started without me," Sam called,
extending an arm for assistance.  "Help me get up!"  Lucas reached out and
grasped Sam's waiting hand.

	"He's never needed help getting it up, ever since I've known him,"
Jonah murmured to Corey.

	Suddenly, Lucas' eyes widened.  He released Sam, who thudded to the
floor once more.  This time, the thud was accompanied by a surprised yelp.
"Everyone be quiet!" Lucas ordered.  "Did I understand you correctly,
Owen?"

	"Huh?" Sam asked, slowly standing and giving Lucas a dirty look as
he rubbed his tailbone.  "Understand what?"

	"That I'm not gonna go back to the city to go to school." Owen
smiled.  "I'm gonna stay here and find something important that needs
doin'.  Riley knocked some sense into me.  It took some doin', but he's
right.

	"After he finished with me, I did some thinking, all by myself, out
by the river, and decided it'd be the wrong thing for me t'do, to leave you
all, or Riverton.  If I left, no matter how hard anyone tried, we'd not be
able to recapture what we have today.  All of us would have moved on, and
. . ."  He shrugged.  "Besides," he said, glancing toward Riley.  "I was
planning on going back to school for the wrong reasons.  Now, I think I've
got my priorities straight."

	Lucas was the first to make it to Owen's side, only because he
vaulted over the back of the sofa.  "For THAT, you can be the bottom as
often as you want!" he shouted, as he took Owen in a tight embrace.

	"Party time!" Bailey shouted.  "We've all kissed him, now let's get
outta here.  Riley's already getting hard, and I don't want any of you guys
gettin' ideas."


----------


	"Abigail and I had a brief visit from Owen, earlier this
afternoon," Bea said, as she reached for her husband's hand.  They were
sitting on the home's porch, enjoying the quiet of the evening.  "Owen came
to talk to us about going back to school, and his reasons for wanting to
go."

	Bea's smile could be heard in her voice.  "Abigail was so pleased
to have Owen specifically ask her to stay, that she was beside herself."

	"Why wouldn't I want you to stay?" he asked her.  "I value your
opinion, and besides," he grinned, winking at his sister.  "You'n Mama are
the two most important women in my life."

	Bea turned to her husband.  "It was sweet to see Abigail throw her
arms around Owen and give him a kiss on the cheek."

	"So . . ." Daniel coaxed.  "What did Owen want to talk about?"

	"He talked about growing up, how . . . his father . . . affects
him, even today . . . and how he thought he was going back to school for
all the wrong reasons.  He talked about fearin' how much he would have
changed, whenever he came back, and Lucas, and Sam.

	"He told us how he thought going back, at least for the reasons he
was thinking about, was the wrong decision."

	"And what did you and Abigail say to all this?"

	"There was nothing to say.  He wasn't here for our opinion.  He was
here to share his thoughts with us.  If he had asked for advice, neither
Abigail or I would have been able to suggest what he should do.  It's a
decision only he can make.  He needed to hear himself speak his thoughts."

	Bea stroked the top of her husband's hand with a thumb.  "Abigail
summed it up."

	"He could have talked to anyone, Mama, yet he chose us!"

	Bea leaned her head against her husband, and spoke into the
darkness.  "Jonathan 'bout ruined Owen," she said, using her late husband's
name for one of the few times since she and Daniel had been married.  "Poor
Jonah, Abigail, and Opie, had it bad, but nothin' like Owen."

	"I've feared that, sooner or later, all that mistreatment would
come back to haunt him," Daniel murmured, resting an arm over his wife's
shoulder, as she leaned closer.  "In order to survive, he's been pushing
all the bad memories into some dark corner of his memory.  That can only go
on for so long before they burst free.  Either that will happen or,
somehow, his pent up emotions will be," he hesitated, attempting to think
of the correct word, "diffused."

	"Oh, dear," Bea said, stricken, as she turned to her husband.

	"I hope I'm wrong, Bea," he said, "but, at least with him here in
town, he's surrounded with his family and friends.  There's someone he can
turn to, here.  In the city," Daniel shrugged, "who knows?"


----------


	Lucas turned off the living room lights and followed his friends
into Jonah and Corey's apartment, just steps away from his own.  'Owen is
staying!  He's not going back to the city!' he wanted to shout, feeling as
if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders.  For weeks, he'd
been steeling himself for Owen's imminent departure, sure that Sam was
doing the same thing, in his own way.  No matter how much Lucas prepared
though, he was afraid he would not handle the parting well.  Owen had
become too important to him . . . too much a part of his life.  'Something
like air,' he mused.  'You know it's important, but you only realize how
important when someone threatens to take it away.'

	As Owen broke the news of his staying, Lucas caught a glimpse of
Jonah's radiant expression, a moment before he, himself, vaulted over the
back of the sofa, wanting to be the first person to reach Owen and tell him
how pleased he was he was staying.  Sam would have reached Owen at the same
time, if he hadn't opted to run around the sofa, instead of jump over it.
'Sam needs to loosen up a bit,' Lucas grinned, to himself.

	'Sam's not the only one.'  After an initial kiss and hug, Jonah had
backed away, reluctantly releasing Owen's hand.  It was a behavior Lucas
had seen time and again . . . the hesitant touch, the small kiss.  Jonah
was obviously deeply in love with his brother, and wasn't quite sure
whether he should show his feelings, or hide them.  While Owen's behavior
around his brother wasn't quite as painful to watch, it had its own story
to tell.  'They spent most of their life together . . . just the two of
them,' Lucas thought.  'Then, along came Sam, then me, and finally, Corey,
diluting the relationship Jonah and Owen had formed throughout their
childhood.'

	"Are you aware how deeply Jonah cares for you?" Lucas asked Owen
once, while they sat at the breakfast table, soon after they'd arrived in
Riverton.  Owen had glanced away, then back, compressing his lips.

	"Yeah, I am."  His crooked grin was slow in coming.  "I've told
myself that he doesn't know what's goin' on in his mind, 'cause he's too
young.  Then, I remember that he's only a year younger'n me, and you'n I
both know how little I know about what's going on in my brain."  Owen's
smile faded.  "To answer your question though, yeah, I'm aware of what he
feels, as well as what I feel.  It all began as sort of a protection
thing. We turned to one another as the only safe, non-judgmental person to
be around."  Owen glanced up and caught Lucas' eyes.  "This was way back
when we were kids . . . before Sammy and I got to know one another.

	"Goin' through the sorta things we did, made Jonah and me close,
but a lot of what we feel for one another has come from sleepin' together
all those years, and talkin' about all sorts of things.  I know his
innermost thoughts, just as he knows mine.  In fact, he knows me probably
better'n either you or Sam . . . or Mama."  Owen appeared unsure whether he
should continue.  "Sometimes . . . even now . . . I sometimes . . . not
often . . . I find that I wish I were . . . while I'm sleepin' . . . laying
next to Jonah."

	"Why'ya hangin' back?" Sam asked, taking the few steps away from
the bedroom, and the sound of the others.

	Lucas grinned, holding a hand out to Sam, who took it and moved
close.  "I was just thinking about Owen staying, and about how important he
is to Jonah."

	"If possible," Sam began, "I think Jonah's more pleased than
anyone, about him staying.  And," Sam grinned, "I personally know that it's
pretty tough to be more pleased than you or me.  Y'know," Sam began.  He
glanced over his shoulder to make sure he and Lucas were alone.

	"Corey told me how much Jonah's been hurtin', waking up in the
middle of the night, crying n'stuff.  That's not like Jonah.  Even when he
and I were living together . . . while Owen was away . . . he never did
that.  He told me he'd let me know if Jonah got any worse."  Sam grinned.
"I don't think that's likely, now."

	He chuckled, as he drew Lucas closer, with an arm around his waist.
"I'm thinkin' that the two of 'em would feel a lot better if they worked up
the nerve to have a couple days of good down-and-dirty sex."  He shook his
head as Lucas smiled at the thought.  "They'll never feel free enough to do
it though, as long as all of us are hangin' around, ready to barge in on
'em at any minute.

	"Y'know, it's suddenly gotten real quiet in there," Sam grinned,
nodding toward the bedroom.  "What say you'n I go join the fun
. . . unless, of course," Sam murmured, as he stroked Lucas' penis, "you
want to go someplace private . . . just you'n me."

	"That's an invitation that's almost too good to ignore.  But, you'n
I can play later on tonight, or tomorrow.  What's going on in the bedroom
probably won't be repeated.  So . . . let's go join the party."  He pulled
Sam into a tight embrace, and murmured, close to Sam's ear.

	"Have I told you lately, Mister Bridgers, how much I love you?"

	"You can tell me as often as you like," Sam murmured, a moment
before his lips found Lucas'.

	They separated, as Owen walked into the living room.

	"Hi'ya, Owen," Sam said, holding out an arm in an invitation for
Owen to join them.  "Lucas n'I were just talkin' 'bout how much we both
love you.  C'mere."

	"You'd really decided on leavin'?"  Sam asked, after a lengthy kiss
and embrace.

	Owen thought a moment.  "Yes."  There was a pause.  "I didn't want
to, 'cause'a you guys n'all, but I just didn't see another way."

	"And you do now?" Lucas asked.

	Owen grinned crookedly.  "No.  But, whatever I'm gonna find has
gotta be here . . . in Riverton . . . with the both of you.  Riley made me
realize how bad a step it would be if I left.  I've thought about things,
since he and Corey talked to me.  I visited a bit with Mama, and Abigail,
and went out and sat on that big ol' rock at the river's edge."  He looked
into the eyes of his lovers.  "Stayin' feels like the right thing to do.  I
was afraid I might have agreed to doin' something 'cause Riley is such a
great talker.  I wanted to make sure before tellin' you guys."

	"Guys," Bailey called, from the bedroom.  "The party's in here!"

	"C'mon," Owen smiled.  "The guys are wantin' to put on a show.  I
think it's exciting to watch.  Besides, I like the idea of the guys
watching us."


----------


	"It would have been better for everyone if neither of them had been
born," Elizabeth Pruitt said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.  She sat
before her vanity table, brushing her hair, a task she claimed her maid
always mucked up.  "I mean," she went on, ignoring her husband's shocked
expression, reflected in the mirror.  "The two boys are good for nothing.
They never will amount to anything.

	"Riley will eventually manage to do something horrendous enough to
bring disgrace to the family, and Nathan . . ."  Elizabeth snorted, a most
unladylike sound.  "He will probably do something worse . . .  The willful
little bastard; always snubbing his nose at me, needing to have his own
way.  I hate people like that!"  She laid the brush down on the crystal
tray.  "Disgusting . . . both of them."

	"Elizabeth."  Franklin Pruitt stood behind his wife.  "Elizabeth,"
he repeated, finally getting a reflected view of his wife's attention.
"You constantly amaze me at how reprehensible you can be.  Your thoughts
about your sons are inexcusable.  Unlike their older brother, and sister,
the boys have a mind of their own.  That is what you find distasteful
. . . someone who is able . . . and willing . . . to stand up to you.  I
find their behavior refreshing."

	Elizabeth looked away, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.  "You
would."  She stopped herself before saying something which might cause her
husband to think for himself.  'He's entirely too much like the boys,' she
thought to herself.  'They even look like him!'

	"I don't know why I ever even considered marrying you, or," she
added, "why I stay married to you."

	"The answer to both questions, my dear," Franklin said, in a sweet
voice, which she had never heard him use, "is money.  I have it.  Your
father, bless his sorry, criminal blood sucking, incarcerated soul
. . . lost his, and therefore yours.  You needed to survive, maintaining
the lifestyle to which you had become accustomed, so, no matter how
distasteful you found it, you married me . . . probably because I was the
only person, with enough money, who happened to be paying attention to you,
at the time.  What I continue to wonder is what I saw in you, beyond a
pretty face."

	Elizabeth Pruitt's eyes sharpened, as she studied his reflection in
the mirror.  'He is definitely behaving strangely.  This independent kind
of thinking can't be allowed to continue.'

	"Ahh, but I was young, and being young, I thought the woman I told
myself I loved, would remain beautiful forever."  His smile did not reach
his eyes, as he continued speaking.

	"And, as for why you remain married to me, besides the fact that I
have money, and your father is, to put it mildly, destitute, is the fact
that, by being married to me you have a means of remaining in polite
society.  If you divorced me, where would you be?  You'd still have some
money, but not the constant source you have today.  But, you would become a
marked woman.  The society ladies, with whom you associate, would shun you,
a divorced woman, with no visible means of support.

	"And," Franklin concluded.  "You must admit it, my dear.  Even with
the facelifts, you are no longer the beauty you once were.  Should you
leave me, I expect it would be . . . difficult . . . to attract someone to
support you.  Most people our age are not as gullible as I was during my
youth.  All I saw was a pretty face.  I never realized an ogre lurked
beneath."  He gently patted her shoulder, ignoring her outraged breathing.
"Today, my dear, the ogre is about all I see.

	"No loving mother would ever speak about two of her children the
way you do.  One would think that you believe you can bring a child into
the world, and abandon him.  That would suit you, wouldn't it, my love?" he
said, speaking in a tone of voice which did not match the words he was
using.  "The only thing better than having someone else rear a child of
yours would be for someone else to have carried the child to term."  He
shook his head, turning away and walking toward his bedroom.  "Stretch
marks, you know.  Nasty business.  So difficult to get rid of . . . without
a plastic surgeon's assistance."

	"YOU!" Elizabeth rounded on her husband, no longer able to control
her temper.

	"Yes?" Franklin paused.  'Have I pushed her far enough to
impulsively ask for a divorce?' he asked himself.  She lowered the
hairbrush she was about to toss at him.  'Alas, not today,' he sighed.

	"You're just as bad as those two boys.  You treat me awfully.  I,
the mother of your children!  I have slaved to uphold your place in
society.  I am the reason your construction company," she almost spat the
words, "is a success.  You remember that, Franklin.  You are a success
because of me."

	Franklin smiled.  "Yes dear.  Whatever you say.  Now, stop
frowning, love.  Unsightly lines, you know," he added, smiling when his
wife quickly turned to her vanity's mirror.


----------


	Nathan looked up at the gentle knock on his bedroom door.  He'd
been amusing himself by developing a business plan for a fictitious
business . . . one headed by his brother and himself, in a place far away
from his . . . mother.

	"Yes?"

	His father cracked the door and stuck his head into the room.  "Are
you busy?  If not, I'd like to visit, for a bit."

	Nathan turned away from his computer.  "I'm never too busy for you,
Dad," he smiled.  "Come in, come in.  You'll have to sit on the bed though.
I've forbidden the maid to even peek into the room.  It may be a mess, but
there is an underlying orderliness to it.  I know precisely where I toss
everything," he laughed.  "Besides," he said, lowering his voice, "Mother
hates it."  He held out his arms to his sides and brightly smiled.
"Therefore, the mess must be a good thing."

	Nathan's smile faded as he watched his father gently close the
door, cross the room and flop backward onto the bed, angrily arranging a
pillow beneath his head.

	"Mother's done something?"

	"Who else?"

	"Father . . . you are torturing yourself by allowing this to
continue.  You may have loved her once, but I cannot believe you still do
. . . not with the way she behaves."  The room was quiet for a few long
minutes.  Finally, Nathan spoke.  "Dad . . . Why are you going to Germany
with Mother and everyone?  I mean really?  Don't tell me you're looking
forward to some time away.  Going to Germany and listening to Mother go on
about Lisa marrying into German royalty has gotten old, and the happy
couple isn't even married yet.  I wonder if Helmut, or whatever his name
is, has a clue what he's getting into.  I mean . . . Mother and Lisa!"
Nathan shook his head.

	"One has no trouble telling that the dear girl is her mother's
daughter.  That's for sure."

	Nathan slouched in his chair, crossing his arms.  "Poor bastard.
Helmut, I mean.  Someone needs to warn the unfortunate soul so he has time
to hide."  Nathan thought a moment.  "Nah!  It'd never work.  Mother and
Lisa wouldn't rest until they'd turned over every rock in Germany lookin'
for him.  After all . . . he is heir to a castle!" Nathan chuckled.  "I
didn't think they even had castles in Germany.

	"So . . ." Nathan coaxed.  "Why are you going?"

	Franklin Pruitt shrugged, from where he lay on the bed.  "I don't
really know.  I've got some important stuff going on here.  It would be
best for me to be here for the transition.  I keep telling myself, though,
that I've just got to let the people I've hired do their job."

	"Care to talk about it?  You're not normally this cryptic."

	Franklin propped himself up on his elbows and studied his son,
reaching a decision.  He pried off his shoes then sat on the bed, cross
legged, leaning against the bed's headboard.

	"I've talked to Riley about some fears I have.  I told him that he
and you are the only two people in the family I implicitly trust.  So, it
stands to reason that you should have the same information your brother
has."

	Nathan quietly watched his father, then moistened his lips.
"Thanks, Dad.  I'm not joking, or anything.  I really do mean, thanks
. . . for trusting me, n'all.  It makes me feel really good."  He flicked a
penetrating glance at his father.  "It's also good to know you're not being
controlled by Mother."

	Franklin compressed his lips.  "I'm sorry to say that I have been
under your mother's spell for too long.  The time for that is over."
Franklin Pruitt lowered his voice.  "Nathan . . . something slimy is going
on with the firm's attorneys.  I don't know what.  I am sure, though, that
it somehow involves your mother, and I am not going to let it continue.
So, I've been meeting with Riley's boyfriend's father, George, and the
people who represent his company.  We've met both at his company's
headquarters, and here.  Your mother doesn't know anything about the
meetings, nor do any of her cronies at the law firm.

	"Anyhow . . . I'm firing the lot of 'em, and replacing them with
some new blood, with no connections to Atlanta, or to any big name family,
or anything.

	"In fact, the new men have already set up a small office, with two
attorneys, and a couple of support staff to oversee the transition.  I gave
'em some space close to my office.  Everyone thinks I've brought in some
people for a hush hush construction project.  No one in the office is
asking questions, and the new men aren't offering any clues.  A
tight-lipped group, they are.  They answer to me, and only me."  Franklin
chuckled.  "I love it!"

	The older man sobered.  "Nathan, you also need to know, that should
anything ever happen to me, those attorneys have been instructed to take
orders only from your brother and you.  I know he doesn't want to have
anything to do with the business, but, in an emergency like that, he knows
that he will have to take charge.  With you at his side, the right
decisions will be made.

	"Anyhow, getting back to the new men.  They're doing all they can
until the actual transition takes place.  Everything is ready to go, at a
moment's notice.  They've brought in a couple high-powered accountants to
dissect the company's books.  It was like pulling teeth to get those slimy
bastard friends of your mothers to surrender the records, but I went over
there personally, and wouldn't leave until I had copies.  I didn't want to
give 'em a chance to change anything.  That may have given them a hint how
displeased I am, but . . . I had to get those records for the new folks."

	"You intend it to happen when you and Mother are in Germany?"

	Franklin nodded.  "So she won't be able to hightail it down to the
offices when those skum-bags come cryin' to her.  Damn it, Nathan!  That
woman thinks she and her buddies at the law firm own the company, and that
the only thing I'm useful for is to bring in the money to keep her happy!"

	"It would be best if I were here during all this, but I have no
excuse."  He grinned, mischievously.  "Any ideas about how one might be
created?  I'd like nothing better than to send your mother, your brother,
his dear wife, the grandchildren, and Lisa, off on that airplane by
themselves, so they can annoy all the other passengers instead of me."

	He gestured to the computer display.  "What are you working on?  I
thought maybe you'd be surfing the web, or something."

	"Nah.  I do that some, but there's only so much titillation a guy
can take, right?"

	"I won't go there," Franklin said, in a droll voice.

	"That's probably for the best.  For the chance at a little lively
conversation, though, I am more than happy to describe the things which
turn me on and . . ."

	"Nathan!"

	Franklin's son studied him with a smile and raised brows.  "You
don't want to know what sort of things I find exciting?"

	"We can discuss that at a later time, perhaps.  As long as it
doesn't involve animals, dead people, or children, I'm happy.  However, I
need to be able to talk about the things which turn me on," Franklin
grinned.

	"Deal!"  Nathan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and
smiling brightly.  "That'd be cool.  I know all about what Riley likes, but
. . ."  Nathan frowned, intensely studying his father.  "Dead people?"

	"I asked what you were working on," his father interrupted.

	Nathan made a casual gesture.  "Nothing really.  I was just working
up a business plan for a fictitious company with Riley, his boyfriend, and
me as the head honchos.  Riley and Bailey could boss everyone around, and I
could use my innate charm to keep everyone happy.  Right?"  Nathan turned
an ingenuous expression on his father . . . who ignored it.

	"Business plan?"

	"Yeah.  I didn't have anything better to do, so I was working up a
plan for a new trucking business.  Riley's boyfriend's family is into
trucking, and Riley was telling me that Bailey, that's his boyfriend, has
tossed around the idea of going out on his own.  I thought it'd be fun to
see what I could come up with."

	Franklin stood and dragged a chair to his son's side, squeezing
Nathan's shoulder in a move he never would have considered with anyone in
the family, other than Riley.  "Describe your thoughts," he said.  "Let's
see what you've created."


~ to be continued ~


	Thank you for taking a few minutes to read my story.  If you'd like
to receive pics of the characters, as I envision them, please write:
roynm@mac.com.
	Another of my stories, Phalen, also appears on this website.