Date: Thu, 11 May 2000 14:25:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dewey <dewey2k@yahoo.com>
Subject: For the love of Pete Ch.12

This story is a work of erotic fiction involving teenage boys partially
based on real people and events.  Names have been changed to protect the
guilty as well as the innocent.  All the usual rules apply.  If you
shouldn't be reading this now, then don't continue on.

Copyright Notice - Copyright  May 2000 by Dewey.
This story is copyrighted by the author and the author retains all rights.

For the Love of Pete
Chapter Twelve

For the Love of Brian, Part Four

Jason and I held our embrace for a long time.  I cried softly into his
shoulder, but these were tears of joy and relief.  No longer did I have to
be a rock untouched by life, ignoring the pain and emotional upheaval. I
didn't have to pretend that nothing hurt me any more.  I knew I had a
family now, the armor around my heart finally allowing that fact to take
root.  My new family would be here to be strong for me when I couldn't be.

We walked back to the house together, Jason's arm around my shoulder.  As
we reached the front door, Sharon opened it, concern on her face.  With a
warning glance from Jason, however, she backed off instead of smothering me
as her mothering instinct prompted her to.  Jason and I parted ways at the
bottom of the stairs, I heading to my room to put on something appropriate
for the funeral, and he following our mother into the kitchen to speak with
her.  Our mother.  Man, it felt good to think of her like that.

After returning to my room and looking through my clothing, I quickly
realized that I had nothing that would be appropriate to wear to the
funeral.  All my clothes were jeans and T-shirts. A knock on the door
startled me.  Opening the door, I saw that Kevin had brought me what
appeared to be a navy blue suit.

"I hope it fits.  If it doesn't we'll get it altered later, but it'll have
to do for now."

"Thanks, Kevin.  How did you know that I needed..."

"It wasn't hard to figure out considering all you have here is the clothing
you took on the trip.  Go ahead and get dressed.  I have to get my own
monkey suit on."  Turning around, he moved out of my room, shutting the
door behind him as he left.

Taking the suit off the hanger, I noticed that everything had been included
from the dress shirt and tie, to the socks and shoes.  Quickly stripping
off my jeans, I put on the suit, making sure that everything was in it's
right place, until I got to the tie. I had never worn one before and didn't
have the faintest idea of how to tie the stupid thing, so I went in search
of Kevin.  His bedroom door was open and he had just finished dressing.
Seeing me approach tie in hand, he came out to help me.

"Ever had to wear one of these?"

"No, never did.  No reason, I guess."

"Well, I'd get used to it if I were you.  You are going to be wearing these
a lot in the future."  He crossed the tie in front of me, gauging the
length.  Then he did some stuff I didn't catch, and it was done.

"What do you mean I'll be wearing these a lot?"

"Well, with your potential, I expect you'll be wearing these regularly
after you get out of college."

"Ugh.  I feel like it's choking me."

"Let me adjust it... nope, it's not the tie.  It looks like we need to get
you a larger neck size.  Hold on a sec."  Kevin went back into his room and
started rummaging through his dresser.  He came back with what looked to be
a button with a loop of steel wire sticking off to one side.  He put the
button through the collar hole, and the loop over the collar button, then
re-tightened and positioned the tie.  I wasn't being strangled now, and
felt a bit more comfortable.

"There you go."  He held me at arms length and looked me up and down.  "How
do the shoes fit?"

"A bit big, but I can manage.  Man, how do you wear these all the time?"

"You get used to it.  Sometimes I feel funny without a tie.  Come on
Sharon, it's time to go."  Kevin knocked on Jason's door. "Let's go guy! We
can't be late."

Ray came out of his room wearing a gray suit identical to mine in cut.  He
looked me over and then exclaimed, "Damn!  What is it with this family and
good lookin people?  Pete, man, you look awesome!"  I blushed and turned
away, only to have Jason nearly run me over as he came out of his room.

"Whoa!  Ray's right man.  I didn't know you cleaned up this well.  You make
me have second thoughts about being straight." Jason was smirking at me,
his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Stop guys.  I appreciate it, but just stop."  I grinned, "You can tell me
how good looking I am after I get through the will reading, okay?"  That
sobered them up quite quickly, and I kicked myself for stifling their
humor.  I probably would need it as the day went on.

"Lets go gang. Everybody into the truck."

"Isn't Joanne coming?"

Sharon answered, "No, I don't think she needs to.  I'd rather she didn't
see this."  I nodded in understanding.

We all moved down the stairs and out the front door.  I turned to Jason and
asked, "What happened to Jared?  I haven't seen him since I tore down the
curtain."

Sharon interjected before Jason could answer. "You did what?"

"Jason flushed the toilet when I was in the shower."  I could see Ray
cringe. "It gave me a blast of hot water and I slipped trying to get out of
it.  I caught myself with the shower curtain, but it ripped off the rod
about half way."  Sharon sighed.

"I suppose I should be used to replacing that thing by now."  Jason and Ray
both giggled.

I returned to my original question.  "What happened with Jared?"

"He went home.  He'll be around, and you'll see him at school in any event.
You still planning on going out for diving?"

"I don't know... I'm just waiting to see what happens in the next couple of
days."

Jason opened the rear passenger door and motioned me into the truck. "Okay.
No pressure dude.  Take all the time you need."  Everyone else quickly took
their seats, and in no time we were on the road to the cemetery.

Virtually ignoring the passing scenery, I sat wondering if any family would
show for the funeral, and if mom was there, what kind of trouble she would
make for me.  All sorts of notions came up, from her hitting and yelling at
me, to her boyfriend trying to kill me.  All of these images disturbed
me. I thought I was over my mom hating me, but now I found that I was
afraid of what was going to happen. If the truth be known, I was terrified.

We arrived at the cemetery shortly before the service was set to begin.
Everyone climbed out of the truck, and were walking toward the burial site
before they noticed I hadn't come out.  They looked at one another, then at
me.  Kevin walked back to the truck and leaned in to speak with me.

"You okay, champ?"

"I feel sick.  I don't want to go out there."  I did indeed feel
nauseated. I was sweating up a storm, and starting to shake.  "Besides, no
one up there want's me here.  Let's just go."

He climbed in and sat next to me, placed his hands on my knees, and stared
into my eyes.  Again, I couldn't look away from his gaze, though I
desperately wanted to.  I didn't want him to see the fear in my eyes.

"Pete, your grandparents are up there.  They may have passed away, but they
want you up there.  We want you up there too.  I know it's hard to be
strong, but we are here to help you, to keep you safe, and support you.
You said last night you wanted to come because you owe it to your
grandparents.  Do you still feel that way?"  I nodded, my eyes still
riveted to his.  "Then it's time.  I'll be right next to you the whole
time. So will Jason and Sharon and Ray."  He paused for a second, then he
continued, his eyes softening.  "Is it your mom?"

I couldn't hold his gaze any longer.  I dropped my eyes to my lap in shame.

"Pete, it is perfectly understandable.  You shouldn't feel weak because of
that.  I know how you feel about her, but she is still your mom, and she
still holds some power over you.  Something like that is not easily broken,
and certainly not broken over night.  It'll take time.  But if you truly
want to be free of her, you'll have to face her at some point or another.
Hey," he pulled my face up and once again I met his eyes. "It's okay. All
right?  We are here to help you. You are safe. Trust us.  Please?"  A
pleading look in his face caught my attention.  He was sincere in what he
was saying.  Why that surprised me I don't know.  I guess I still didn't
believe I was worth their effort.  I sighed deeply.

"Let's go then. I have to do this some time, and I'd rather do it now than
later, I suppose."  Kevin gave my knee a squeeze and climbed out of the
truck, waiting for me to follow.  I hesitated one more moment, then
followed him.  He and I caught up with the rest of the family, and together
we walked up the hill.

The cemetery was beautiful, lush green grass, alder trees, other shrubs and
flowers here and there.  I liked it.  And my grandparents particular plot
was on the top of a small hill, overlooking all the beauty.  It was odd to
think of a graveyard as beautiful, but that's what it was.  I still
remember the smell of the flowers and the freshly mown grass.

As we approached the site, I glanced at the people in attendance. Some I
knew as acquaintances, others I recognized as friends.  I didn't see anyone
resembling my cousins from out of town, but I could have just missed them.
Then I saw my mother and her boyfriend.

They were seated in the front row, directly in front of the caskets.  My
mom was wearing a black mourning dress, and her boyfriend Carl was dressed
in jeans, and a T-shirt advertising beer.  It kinda pissed me off that he
was here, and on top of that he didn't have the decency to at least dress
appropriately, out of respect if nothing else.

The other thing I saw was Van standing to one side with a police officer.
It looked like he had gotten the restraining order and the temporary
custody order.  He confirmed it by giving me a thumbs up.  I nodded grimly,
and could hear Kevin, Ray and Jason each say "Yes!" in a loud whisper.  I
smiled to myself as I saw they were excited the orders had come through,
but strangely, I felt nothing at the news.

There were two seats remaining in the front row, but they were separated by
my mom and her, uh, whatever.  I opted to stand instead of taking one of
the seats.  I was directly in my moms line of sight.  She sneered at me,
then pointedly turned her head away, ignoring me.  Her, uh, whatever turned
in his seat to face me, stared into my eyes, and mouthed the words "Fuckin'
little fagot".

Several emotions passed through me when he said that.  Most of all, I was
enraged, but I also felt fear.  I was afraid that he might do something to
hurt me or my new family.  But rather than show the fear that I felt so
acutely, I smirked at him and said, loud enough for those near us to hear,
"You are and ignorant bigoted loser," and then turned away from him,
focusing on the minister who had just stepped up to begin the
service. Kevin and Jason noticed the exchange, and eyed Curt warily as I
ignored him.  I felt Curt's eyes on me the entire time the minister was
speaking.  I tried to ignore it but the short hairs on my neck were
standing up.

The service was nice, the pastor reading several verses that seemed
appropriate to their lives, but one didn't fit.  It was Mark 10, verses 13
through 16. The minister said my grandparents had requested this passage
specifically.  It read:

And they were bringing children to Him so that He may touch them; but the
disciples rebuked them.

When Jesus saw this, He was indignant and said to them, "Let the little
children come to Me; and do not hinder them; for the kingdom of God belongs
to such as these.

I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a
little child will never enter it."

And He took the children in His arms, put His hand on them and blessed
them.

As the pastor completed the reading, he was looking at me, compassion
lining his face, somehow conveying that this verse had been meant for me.
I chanced a glance past Carl, who was still glaring, to my mother.  She
didn't look pleased at the passage the minister had read.

I wondered how long ago they spoke to the minister or made their requests
known.  It kind of seemed to me that Mark 10 was a recent addition since it
didn't go with the rest of the service.  It felt odd that they would
request that particular passage.  Why would they want a passage talking
about children coming to God?  Did they mean someone specific to get
meaning out of it?  Still, I was comforted by the scripture.

The service ended, and the line to pay final respects formed.  Carl and mom
were first in line, and then seeing no one else was moving toward the
front, I moved toward the caskets with Kevin and Sharon following me.
Jason and Ray shuffled over to where Van stood as we fell in behind Mom and
Carl.

I watched them intently as she stood silently in front of the caskets.  She
placed a hand on each and mumbled a prayer, while Carl, his back to her,
glared down at me.  I returned his glare impassively, betraying nothing to
him.  Kevin was bristling by this time, and Sharon was trembling with
impotent fury.  Mom finished her prayer, and then whirled on us so fast
that she almost fell down.

"What are you doing here?  I don't want you here, and neither do they. It's
your fault they are dead!  If you weren't here, they would still be alive!
They only took that trip because they couldn't while you were there.  God I
wish you hadn't been born, then I wouldn't have to go through all of this
pain."  Her countenance was pure, unadulterated rage. I stood stunned, but
my face remained impassive.

"Why don't you just take your gay ass out of here, you little prick.
You've caused her enough trouble.  So just get your fucking ass out of here
before I decide to kill you.  You don't deserve to live."  Carl's threats
were very real, and I could tell he was prepared to try to kill me, just as
he said, so great was his hate.  He took a step toward me and raised his
hand to strike me, but his arm was blocked by another.

"I wouldn't do that pal.  I wouldn't want to mar this occasion by dragging
you to jail."

"Mrs. Jameson, Sir, let me introduce myself.  My name is Mr. Vanderkamp..."
I hadn't noticed him or the officer approaching, but I was glad they had.
I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take without doing something
about it.  "...And this is Officer McKinney.  I have some documents that
need your attention."  Van held an envelope that he deftly slipped into
mom's hand.

"Inside that envelope, you will find two notices addressed to you.  The
first is a restraining order filed against you.  It states that you must
remain one hundred yards distant from my client, Peter Jameson.  The second
is a temporary order granting custody of Peter to Kevin and Sharon
Patterson."  As Van made these statements, I could see her eyes widen in
disbelief, and then turn grim.

"Good. I don't want to have anything to do with him.  As far as I'm
concerned, I have no son."

Van gave her a sardonic smile.  "I trust you'll feel the same way after the
will reading.  The temporary orders are in effect now, but an exception has
been made so you and Pete both can attend the reading, should you wish to.
My client will be there, as will this officer to ensure a... peaceful
environment.  From this point on," Van handed my mom one of his cards, "any
communication you may need to make with Peter is to be directed to my
office.  My address and phone number are on the card.  And sir, whoever you
may be, I would suggest in the future you keep all threats to yourself."
To my surprise, Van pulled out a small recorder, and stopped the tape.

I thought my mom was going to have a fit right there.  Her gaze kept
shifting between me and Van, the hateful expression intensifying with each
change.  Carl, of course, was glaring daggers at everyone, mostly directed
to me and the policeman.  Mom finally slapped him in the chest with the
back of her hand, saying, "Lets get out of here."  She turned on her heel
and left, striding toward her car.  Carl, on the other hand, decided to get
in the parting shot.  "You fags will get yours. Just you wait."  A knowing,
satisfied smile on his face made his words even more chilling.

"I suggest you leave before I arrest you for communicating a threat."

"Oh yeah.  I'm leaving.  I don't want to catch anything from the little
fag."  He tore his arm out of the officers grip and walked after my mom,
looking over his shoulder as he went.  I watched him get into the car, and
start it up.  The car drove up the road and turned around, going down to
the cemetery exit.  As they drove passed us, I distinctly saw Carl raise
his hand and act as he was shooting me, again with that hateful grin.  I
shuddered at that simple act, and I felt the blood run out of my face.
Almost panicking, I looking around to see if anyone else had noticed, but
everyone else seemed to have put him out of their mind as he got into the
car.

"Pete, are you okay?"  Sharon.

"I'm fine, give me a few minutes."  My voice was shaky, as were my legs.  I
really hadn't prepared myself for the reaction I received from mom and
Carl.  I hated that they could weaken me like this, but I was powerless to
prevent it.

Of course, Sharon knew I wasn't fine, but she let me be, content to hover
over me.  It was time for me to say goodbye to my grandparents.  Looking at
the caskets, I found myself rooted in position, unable to move, just
staring.  Seeing me immobile, Kevin put his arm around my shoulder and
gently propelled me forward until I was in front of the caskets.

I didn't know what to do, or what to say.  I bowed my head, not to pray,
but in shame.  They had done so much for me, and I couldn't even tell them
goodbye. Raising my head, I looked up into the clear blue sky, searching
for something, a sign maybe.  None appeared.  Once more, I bowed my head,
and simply said, "I'm sorry."  Turning away, I ripped myself free of
Kevin's loving embrace and ran down the hill past the truck, all the while
thinking that somehow this was my fault, just because I existed.  If I
hadn't been born, none of this would have happened, mom and dad would still
be happy together, Gramma and Grampa would still be alive, Brian wouldn't
be suffering.

Somehow I stumbled to the trunk of an old tree and sat with my back to it,
my head resting on my arms between my knees. I began to rock gently, sobs
coming from deep inside, but I didn't even realize they were there. The
only thing I could think of was Brian.  We were separated.  It wasn't our
fault, but we were.  I couldn't even contact him.  I had tried, but he
wasn't getting my messages.  He didn't know I still loved him.

Oh, Brian.  Why can't you be here when I need you so much?  What did I do
to deserve this?  What did you do?  Why can't we just be together and be
happy? Oh, my Brian..  My beautiful Brian.  Please help me.  Please?  Oh
God, it hurts, Brian.  It hurts so much.

Feeling hands on my shoulders, I recognized them as Kevin's.  He was saying
something, something urgent.

"Pete!  Pete, listen to me."  He shook me gently, breaking through my
anguish.  Looking up to him, I noticed he was crying.  Seeing he had my
attention, he spoke quietly to me about the pain of loss, how losing one
person can trigger emotions that we had thought buried, or resolved.  We
both realized he was talking to distract me, so I could regain my
composure, but still, his words made sense.  So with his help, I dried out
my tears, reined in my emotions, and regained control.

Ray told me later that I had been calling Brian's name as I sat by that
tree.

We piled back into the truck and headed over to the farm, where the will
would be read.  Nothing was said as we traveled those few miles, everyone
lost in thought.  I watched the passing scenery as we moved along, noticing
the flowers along side the road, the neatly tended yards.

Carl was very much on my mind.  He reminded me so much of my dad, it
frightened me.  Both hated gays, and both were capable of killing me
because I was gay.  Dad had proven that to me when he tried to catch Brian
that night, and Carl had just proven it also, by trying to hit me.  I
realized I was terrified of them.  I hated that the fear could be so
paralyzing.  How was I to face Carl at the reading without telling the
world I was afraid?  Could I hide that kind of fear?  I didn't know.

 As we approached the farm and the scenery became more familiar, a lump
grew in the pit of my stomach. The last time I had been here, my
grandparents were alive, and they were saying goodbye, telling me to have a
good time.  Unbidden, tears formed in my eyes, but they didn't fall.

As we pulled up to the house, I noticed only a few other cars were evident,
one of them being my mom's.  Van parked next to us, and the patrolman next
to him.  I had an entire entourage, and I giggled a bit at the thought.

Kevin opened the door and I climbed out, but he shut the door behind me.  I
gave him a puzzled expression and he said Sharon was going to drive the
rest of them home, since they really didn't need to be here for the
reading.  Van would give us a ride back afterwards.  I indicated my
understanding.

Walking into the house was more difficult than I thought it would be.
Although I had only been here a short time, memories came flooding back.
Over at the kitchen table, Gramma, Grampa, and I had discussed some of the
most difficult things I had ever contemplated over a card game or dinner.
Hate, prejudice, love, and more.  They had always been patient, giving
their view and listening to mine, talking about our differences in opinion
and where our beliefs came from.  They always had a special way to draw me
out to them, to get me to tell them my thoughts and feelings, and they
never condemned me or made me feel my thoughts didn't matter.  I had taken
them for granted.  Once more, tears formed in my eyes, and rolled down my
cheeks, but I made no effort to wipe them away.  These were the tears I
should have cried at the funeral.  I smiled at the memory of the happy
times I spent here with Gram and Gramp.

We continued into the family room.  I immediately felt eyes burning into
me.  It had to be Curt, so I ignored him completely as I took a seat on the
couch, Van and Kevin sitting to either side of me.  When I had settled
myself, I chanced a glance at Curt and my mo...  the woman who used to be
my mom.  The first thing I saw was Curt's eyes, and the hate they radiated.
His gaze chilled me to the bone, but I wasn't going to give the bastard the
satisfaction of knowing he scared me.  Completely against what I was really
feeling, I laughed to myself and gave him a knowing smirk which completely
enraged him.  He flushed as he became more and more angry.  In spite of the
fear, I was getting a perverse pleasure of goading him. With the police
here I knew I was reasonably safe.

Keeping eye contact with Curt, I leaned to Kevin and said in a whisper only
he could hear, "Curt is trying to scare me.  It's working."

"Don't worry.  You are safe here.  He can't hurt you.  We'll protect you,
son."  His response caused me to smile broadly.  Once again he called me
his son. A thrill ran through me every time he did.  Of course Curt took
the smile as a further sign of contempt, which made him go from red to
purple.  Officer McKinney casually strode to stand behind the couch we were
sitting on.  His presence was not lost on Curt.

I turned to Kevin again.  "Is there any way we could get him out of here?
He really doesn't need to be here, does he?"

"Hmm."  Kevin's face was split by a devious smile.  In a loud voice, Kevin
said, "Mr.  Vanderkamp, only people directly concerned with the will should
attend the reading.  Am I correct?"  Van nodded, scrutinizing Kevin as he
spoke, wondering where he was headed.  "Then it would seem to me that he,"
and Kevin pointed directly at Curt, distaste evident on his face, "has no
business here, wouldn't you say?"

"I do believe you are right, Sir.  And given the threats he has already
given to young Pete here, perhaps we should ask the good officer to show
him the door."  I couldn't help but grin at their antics.  Van was having
as much fun tweaking Curt as we were.  "Officer McKinney, as that man," he
pointed to Curt in a dismissive manner, "has no immediate business here,
and he has communicated a threat, would you be so kind as to remove him
from the premises?"  Curt looked like he was going to have a conniption. I
had to stifle a laugh.

And of course, McKinney had to get in the act too.  "Certainly sir. Thank
you for bringing this to my attention. I will remove the, ahem, gentleman
now, with your permission."  He casually walked over to Curt, held his arm
out as if gesturing him to follow, and said, "After you sir.  Please mind
your hands and feet as you leave."

Enraged, Curt glared at the policeman.  He was so incensed that when he
stood, he literally shook like a leaf. Officer McKinney escorted him out of
the room then informed him as he left that he must remove himself
completely from the property.  Since he had no car of his own, he was going
to have to sit down on the road about three-hundred yards away and wait for
the reading to end.  I couldn't help but laugh out loud in relief as the
door shut behind him.  I beamed at Kevin and Van, who ruffled my hair and
returned my infectious grin.

Mom had watched this entire exchange silently, giving no reaction to what
had just occurred.  She looked at me, face completely blank, but I knew the
signs of her anger all to well.  Clinched jaw, back straight, stiff neck,
clinched fists.  She was furious, but I kept grinning.

A man dressed in a suit took a chair and sat in the corner of the room near
the television.  He had some papers on his briefcase, which he held on his
lap.  Looking around the room, I was startled to see that there was only my
mom and two other people besides us. It had seemed like the room was full
just a second ago.  A man and a women, who could only be my aunt and uncle,
sat behind my mom, pointedly ignoring her as she pointedly ignored them
back

"Thank you for coming, everyone.  My name is Mr. Taylor.  I am the executor
of the will.  This shouldn't take too long.  First I will read a letter
that was written about a month before the accident, and is to be read in
the event they both passed on at the same time.  It reads as follows:

To Our Family,

Over the last fifty years, we have experienced so much that we really don't
know where to begin.  We have had our children, watched them grow into
adults, sometimes cursed them, and always loved them.  You have given us
immeasurable joy.

Donna, we are so proud that you have made your own way in the world, and
carved out your own happiness.  We wish you and your soul mate all the
best. You will both have our love, always.

Greg, you have become a man we are proud to call our son.  We are thankful
that you too have found yourself and live a happy, fulfilling life.  You
share our blessing and love with your family.

Brenda, your life hasn't been easy.  Things have happened to you that no
one should have to experience. We hope you can find peace.  We love you,
and always will.

Pete, our grandson, we have watched you grow over the last year, and have
come to love you as one of our own children.  You have suffered, through no
fault of your own, and we pray that one day you will find your own way to
lead a life that is happy, and gives you what you so richly deserve.  You
have so much love to give.  Please don't let that go to waste.

Our time is over.  We have moved on to a better place.  All that we ask is
you remember, whether you love or hate us, how we tried to touch your
lives, and how we tried to help you become better people.  We had a long,
wonderful life.  Do not mourn our passing, instead celebrate the life we
have had.

We love you all, and God be with you.

Mr. Taylor finished the letter, and neatly folded it into it's envelope.
They had written it just a month ago, kind of like they knew they were
going to die.  Why else would they write a letter to be read if they both
died?  They were in great health, with no sign of illness.  It just didn't
make sense.

What of the actual words?  I knew that both Donna and Greg were gay, and
the words were carefully phrased to tell them that they were loved for who
they were, with no reservations.  But when they wrote to my mom, there
seemed to be nothing but pity in those words.  They didn't even say they
were proud of her.  That was weird.  She was their daughter after all.

And why did they say those things to me?  I knew they loved me, but as
their son?  That meant I had become special to them beyond what I'd
realized.  Did they mean that they hoped Brian and I would get back
together? Or did they just mean what was written, with no hidden meanings?
My head was spinning with the possibilities.

Having given us time to digest the letter, Mr. Taylor cleared his throat.
"Shall we continue?"  Without waiting for a response, he read the will.

Apparently Gram and Gramp were considerably better off than I had been lead
to believe.  They had property all over the country, and millions in
investments.  No wonder Grampa could afford to pay for all of my projects.

Both Donna and Greg were left three million dollars, and all of the
property owned outside of Oregon, to be divided by mutual consent.  The
inventory of property was very extensive.  I could see everyone's jaw
slacken as the list went on and on, from beach houses in Florida to
mountain homes in Colorado, to a lake house in Vermont.

Other things were given to friends, and large sums of money were willed to
various charities.  Mom still hadn't been mentioned.  It was easy to see
she was getting nervous, wondering when she would be included.

"To Brenda, our daughter. You have become a bitter, hateful person, but in
spite of this, we love you still.  We bequeath you the contents of your
heart: anger, prejudice, and hate.  A hate so great that you rejected your
own brother and sister, and worst of all, your son.  You sent Pete out into
the world without shelter, and without love, defenseless.  A parent's job
is to protect her child until he can survive on his own, regardless of her
own prejudice. You owe him your love.  Since you feel nothing for the son
you brought into this world, we leave you exactly that. Nothing, except
what you should have given Pete: Our love.  You are disinherited."

Mr. Taylor stopped speaking as mom stood and shrieked, "What?!  That can't
be right!  There has to be a mistake!"  She charged the executor, who
wisely released his copy of the will into her hands.  Mom read and reread
the page, her eyes getting wider and her face getting whiter each time she
did.  Stunned, she let the paper slip out of her hand and stumbled back to
her seat, still not believing her eyes or ears.

Mr. Taylor retrieved the papers from the floor where they had fallen, and
continued as if nothing had happened.

"To Pete, we are so ashamed of what your mother did to you.  You did not
deserve to be ripped away from those you loved.  We are very sorry we could
not do this before, as your mother forbade it.  Now she cannot stop us.  We
have taken steps to help see you reunited with them.

"Firstly, to you we bequeath the rest of our assets, totaling slightly over
three million dollars.  These assets are investments, and are to be held in
trust by Mr. Taylor until you are thirty years of age.  A fourteen thousand
dollar yearly stipend will be distributed by Mr. Taylor in equal monthly
payments until you reach your majority.  Until that time, this stipend will
be under the supervision of your guardian, but is to be used to pay your
own expenses within your guardian's judgment.  After you reach majority,
the stipend will be increased to forty-eight thousand dollars a year, again
paid in equal monthly installments, provided you attend college and
graduate.  You may spend the funds as you will.  Keep in mind this is meant
to pay for your room, board, and education.  After graduation, the stipend
will continue until the age of thirty, when you will gain full control of
all assets.  Brenda Jameson shall not have any access to any funds willed
to Peter in any shape, manner, or form, whatsoever.

"Secondly, we leave to you the property here in Oregon, to be held in trust
and maintained by Mr. Taylor, until you graduate college or reach the age
of thirty, which ever occurs first.  This property shall not transfer to
anyone other than Peter Jameson.

"Lastly, we say this to whomever it may concern.  In our considered
judgment, Peter should not be given into the custody of his mother.  To do
so would place him in considerable danger, both from his mother, as well as
the men she chooses to spend her life with.  We plead with the court to
find an alternative.  Please find a safe, secure place for him to live and
be happy until he is ready to go out on his own.

"This concludes our final will and testament."

-----------------------
Constructive criticism and comments gladly accepted.  Please e-mail me at
dewey2k@yahoo.com. Flames will be deleted.
-----------------------

As always, I post all my new chapters to Authors Without Websites first,
and later post them at other sites.  AWW is an awesome site that has
several authors contributing to it.  The stories found there are love
stories, not sex stories (although some of that does slip in).  I recommend
you check it out.  The address is: http://www.teenboyauthors.org/aww/

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