Date: Tue, 19 Oct 2004 20:49:01 +0800
From: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aboriginal Farmboy / aboriginal-farmboy-04

Author: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-04 (adult-youth, interracial, rural)
Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #4'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[]
Homosexual, young male sex
Adult-youth
Interracial
Rural setting

ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART FOUR

Copyright (c) 2004 by James MacMannis
This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may
not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution
in any media whatsoever without my permission.  Please email me at
james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism.


In the short walk from the workshops to my house Nick and I got drenched.
The rain was coming down in buckets and the wind was driving it in like
nails.  The veranda was a welcome refuge from the onslaught of the storm but
it did nothing to check the flashing lightning and the booming thunderclaps.
  We hardly needed any electric light to see our way because the lightning
was almost continuous, but the soft glow from the house windows was
nevertheless reassuring.

Instead of entering through the kitchen, Nick and I opened the external
laundry door and found the relative warmth of that part of the house
infinitely more pleasant than the outside.  Slamming the door shut, I
stripped off my soaking wet clothing and put it straight into the laundry
tub.  I keep towels in the laundry for just such an event, and began
towelling myself off.  Nick followed my lead and soon we made our way
towards the brighter and warmer part of the house, leaving the wet towel
behind with the clothing.

Chris had heard us come into the house and was busily pouring hot drinks for
us as we entered the kitchen.  He had started the gen-set to provide some
light and had showered before making the hot drink.  He was wearing my
dressing gown to keep himself warm.  When he turned towards us, both Nick
and I burst out laughing when we saw his baldness.  The fire had swept his
head like a razor, completely burning off his hair, eyebrows and most of his
small beard.  He really did look quite a comical sight.

I hugged him as I asked if he was all right.  He assured me he was fine,
especially now that he was warm again.  He pushed us both into the sunroom
where he had stoked up the fire to a radiating blaze.  Chris had bought a
couple of light blankets from a spare room and gave us one each to wrap in.
Continuing his story as we gratefully sipped the hot chocolate he had
prepared, he said that the same fluke of wind and flame that burnt him had
also been his saviour, because there was not a blister or scar from the
fire, and his skin was not sore at all.  I sat him down and lifted his feet
to see if there had been any burning of his soles.  I knew he had been
walking over some burning wood and coals, but the hardy skin was undamaged.
I checked Nick's feet also, and found no damage there.  I had not been
exposed to the same danger, because I had been in the tractor most of the
time.

Nick and I went off to shower, leaving our hot drinks on the hob of the
fireplace to keep warm.  Nick used the shower in my ensuite while I showered
in the guest bathroom.  We returned to the sunroom independently, but at
about the same time, where Chris had remained, smoking while he waited.  All
of us were very tired from both the lateness of the hour and the strenuous
activities of the night, so it was not long before we were all yawning.  The
drinks were finished off, cigarettes put out, fire turned down and Chris
went downstairs to shut off the generator while we made our way back to bed.
  I glimpsed the burning trees down in the paddock before getting into the
bed next to Nick and I could see they would burn themselves out harmlessly
in another couple of hours.

Cuddling up against me again, Nick threw his arm across my chest and hugged
me tightly, the whole length of his lithe body pressed tightly to my side.
I turned towards him so that we were lying face to face and we held each
other strongly, our kissing conveying much more than words.  Strangely I did
not feel aroused by his presence like I had been earlier in the evening, and
I could not feel any response from his body either.  Perhaps we were simply
overtired.  Whatever the reasoning, we just laid together in a wonderfully
complete embrace, enjoying the most luxurious kiss, until Chris came back
from the downstairs generator room.  Chris shrugged off the dressing gown
and snuggled under the bedding, grasping me from behind as I faced away from
him.  His body fit neatly into the curve of my back as he drove himself
fully into his embrace of me.  I was totally sandwiched between the two most
beautiful men I had ever met, and my tired brain allowed me to love every
second of the circumstances.  Somehow, despite the lure of these gorgeous
bodies and the fact that one of them was poking a very hard penis towards my
hind quarter, the three of us drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Watery light shone in the window when I opened my eyes and it took me a
minute to work out my surroundings.  My right arm was numb, the circulation
having been temporarily cut off by Nick's head still resting against my
chest.  His soft breathing was the only indication that he was living, the
gentle breath soft on my face, the distant scent of tobacco mingled with his
sweet youthful odours.  I knew I had a serious erection and I could feel it
pressing into the cleft of Nick's thighs, the tight muscles feeling smooth
and strong to my needy penis.  Nick was hard also, his penis pressing
comfortably into my stomach.  Then there was the other half of me to
consider.  Chris's steady breathing was teasing the hairs on the nape of my
neck, telling me that he was still pressed into my back.  I could feel his
stiff penis laying in the outer crack of my buttocks, pulsing as his
sleeping mind played out some dream or another.  I wondered if he had stayed
hard all night, but I dared not move lest I awaken either of these adorable
creatures.

My view out the window was extremely limited without moving my head, but I
could see in the pre-dawn light that the sky was still heavily overcast.
Tree branches moved with the wind, though not as forcefully as the previous
night.  There was rain, but it was not torrential.  My assessment was that
the worst of the stormy weather had passed and that things would probably
get back to normality during the day.  I remembered that Connie would be
coming out to the house later and, in thinking about him, I made an
involuntary lunge with my groin, my penis sliding easily on the collected
pre-cum on Nick's legs.  I had not meant to disturb the boys, and my
reaction was totally unexpected - I had never ever met or even see Connie,
so how could a thought about him cause me to react like that?  Nick moved
his head a little and clumped himself tighter in to my chest, somehow
opening his legs a little to let my penis slide further towards his own
maleness, and went on with his sleep.  My arm felt an immediate pins and
needles attack as the blood surged through those pinched arteries to restore
circulation where Nick's resting head had cut it off.

Chris also moved, but his movement was somewhat more determined than Nick's.
  As I had lurched away from him in my single thrust, so he followed,
pushing his throbbing penis into my crack in an urgent mission to maintain
the intimate proximity he had enjoyed with me in his sleep.  The feel of his
large meat on my skin was awakening every sensory mechanism in my mind.  He
withdrew and pushed again, his breathing changing rhythm as he came from
deep sleep into a more aware stage of drowsiness.  Again he moved, wriggling
his body slightly to accommodate the angle he needed to achieve as his penis
slid along the cleft of my rear cheeks.  The adjustment must have been
correct, because he continued his pistoning, grinding into my bottom with a
deliberate slowness.  At some point he crossed the threshold of wakefulness
and I felt his breathing pattern change again.  Chris leaned forward
slightly and kissed me on the neck, his arm trailing over my back as his
hand began to rummage around for my penis.

The first thing Chris found was Nick's penis pressing into me.  He adjusted
it slightly so that it could slide up my belly rather than point straight at
me, then continued further in his exploration until he found where I was
buried in Nick's legs.  He worked out that I could not move without waking
Nick, so he withdrew his hand after giving me a gentle squeeze.  All the
while he continued his gentle pumping into me, no doubt letting the
sensations build in his own body as much as they were in mine.  I could not
respond to Chris for fear of waking Nick, so I lay there with my eyes shut,
soaking in the delightful sensation of Chris's hardness.

After a lavish indulgence in Chris's activities, I opened my eyes.  Nick was
looking directly at me, not with the penetrating stare of yesterday but now
with a softer gaze.  His blue eyes startled me; I had not known he was awake
because of my involvement with Chris.  He moved his legs, kneading my aching
penis with his superbly muscled thighs and causing me to push further into
the recess of his legs.  As he moved, he also pushed himself into me, the
blunt point of his penis initially poking into the soft flesh of my abdomen,
just below the navel.  He slid easily along my skin, his own pre-cum making
the area well lubricated.  It was now clear to me that he had been awake for
a while, watching me and waiting for his moment to begin the game.  He
pressed his lips to mine, crushing my teeth and lips in a passion I had not
yet discovered in him.

Nick milked me with his legs, so that I had no choice but to thrust into
him.  Gone were my misgivings of the previous evening.  Nick was telling me
in his own eloquent manner, not needing the burden of words, that he wanted
me and he wanted me to want him.  He began a pushing movement, his rock hard
penis grooving my skin as he found a place to pleasure himself.  His tongue
darted between my teeth and found mine.  I responded and we chased each
other with out tongues between gasping breaths and thrusting pelvises.

Chris was building his tempo as the urgency of his movements brought him
close to an orgasm.  His breathing was becoming ragged on my neck and he
held me tighter as he thrust deeper and faster into my cleavage.  Nick was
quickly approaching his point of no return and, in his excitement, he
gripped me harder with his legs.  I was so enthralled with all of the
activity I had hardly realised that I was also stimulated to my highest
plateau.  I wondered briefly if we could somehow manage to all reach our
orgasm at the same time.

Nick got there first.  "Oh, Mister James," he gasped as his thrusting became
an insistent thing, now totally out of his own control.  "Oh.  Oh."  I felt
the warm fluid spray onto my stomach and up onto my chest between us.  Still
he pushed and pumped as his semen squirted out.  Chris let me know he was
there by biting lightly into my neck as he came.  Semen erupted from him in
a gush, flooding my bottom and the lower part of my back.  The two boys
thrust at me on each side as their loads of young sperm found a new haven
amongst the pores of my hungry skin.  I, too, came.  I felt the rush of my
orgasm; massively pent up from the unrelieved needs of the previous night,
pour out of me.  Shot after shot of my juices pumped into the smooth muscles
of Nick's legs and he wrung his legs to extract every drop from me, feeling
my orgasm despite his own continuing outpouring.

I can't say just how long this fusion of bodies continued.  In the state of
mind I found myself it seemed to go on for hours.  A sense of suspended
reality hung over me as I accepted the love of these boy/men and gave of my
own to them.  A feeling of unbelief as I thought how it could be remotely
possible this was happening to me.  A feeling of overwhelming gratitude that
I could not have quantified if I had tried.  A welling of emotion that I
could not hide, a love that was so remarkable and unexpected that I could
only let it emerge in uncontrolled tears of joy.

Nick held me and kissed me from the front, Chris from the rear.  Our juices
were running all over the place, making a sticky mess and joining us to each
other like glue.  Slowly our momentum subsided as the ability to produce
more semen diminished.  Slowly we descended from that glorious plateau to
the world surrounding us.  Slowly our breathing and heartbeats returned to
normal.  All the while I was aware of a growing understanding of the
sensations of love as I let them flow over me from these lovely men.

"Oh, Mister James," Nick quietly voiced, fingering away his own tears.
"Thank you.  I love you so much."  His words stopped as another flow of
tears replaced them.  Chris breathed softly into my ear "Thank you, too,
James.  For being here for me, and for letting Nick learn to love you as I
do."  Nick was now flaccid and I felt his penis drop away from me.  He
released me from between his legs and I, also drooping, fell away from him.
Chris, as always, was still hard, but not thrusting.  I nudged back on to
his penis to see if he would react, but instead he just shook his head.  "I
am so content to just lie here with you, James.  There will be opportunity
for more another time.  Let me love you for a while."

Nick dropped into that state called by the French the little death.  His
orgasm draining him to such an extent that he needed the short rest to
recover.  I was tempted to do the same, but found I could not get enough of
holding him and being held by Chris, so I remained alert to every nuance of
their touch.  My skin felt alive as it seemed every minute opening absorbed
the presence of these two, who now meant so much to me.

Nick stirred when Chris said in a vibrant voice "Coffee anyone?"  We began
untangling arms and legs and penises, somehow doing so in such a way that we
ended up in a heap on the floor, the bed linen tumbled on top of us.  The
boys, much more agile than I, quickly found their way out of the mess and
helped me to my feet.  We hugged again in warm remembrance of what we had
just shared together then made our way out to the kitchen, draping a blanket
over our shoulders to ward off the cold.

Once the fire was blazing and the coffee in mugs, we sat together to begin a
new day.  Cigarettes were rolled, even Nick partaking although he had told
me he usually did not smoke till the afternoon in deference to his sports
program.  Through the windows we could see in the growing light a number of
branches had been snapped off trees, but there did not seem to be any other
serious damage in the vicinity of the house and workshop.  We chatted a
little, recalling the fighting of the fire and the violence of the storm
during the night.  Nick displayed his cooking skills by turning out a tray
of toasted egg and bacon sandwiches, garnished with some fresh tomato and
herbs.  Because the school busses were not running until after the
floodwaters subsided, Nick would not be going to school today.

Full daylight outside prodded us into donning whatever dry clothing we could
scrummage in the house and venturing out to inspect the damage to my
property.  Although it was cold, it certainly was above freezing, probably 4
or 5 degrees, and we were relatively comfortable.  The rain had stopped, but
the dark skies gave us warning that the reprieve would be brief.  Wherever
we walked the ground was soggy and, in many places, large pools of water
were still draining away.  The irrigation ditches were flowing strongly and
I could see, even at this distance, that my dam had filled almost to
overflowing during the night.

We pulled a few branches away from access points to buildings and from
anywhere that might interfere with general movement about the place.  There
really was not much to worry about, so we quickly arrived at the
still-smoking hole where the tree had been blasted by lightning during the
storm.  The ground here was warm to our feet, not hot, but enough to
indicate that the roots of the tree were on fire below us.  I knew that a
root fire could last for days, even weeks, so I got the boys to help me
erect a temporary fence around the area to prevent anyone from accidentally
walking into the hole.  I expected that the ground would subside later on
when the fire had finished it's work, so I would wait for that and then
remove the fence, fill the hole and plant a new tree.

The tree pieces in the paddock had burnt most of the way to the ground, so
we did not bother going there to check.  Instead we made out way towards the
top shed, inspecting fences and other outbuildings along the way to make
sure the storm or windborne debris had affected nothing.  Everything we had
stacked away the previous afternoon was where we had put it, and nothing
seemed out of order here, so we headed back to the house.  Chris suggested
we have a quick look at the dam, so we turned from our path and trudged
cross-country through the wet grasses and mud.  The dam is at the lowest
part of my property, built partly into a creek bed.  The creek flows most of
the winter months and is usually dry in summer.  Many of the drainage
ditches across the property converge to drain into the creek, thus
contributing to the water storage in the dam.

Clambering up the embankment to the rim of the dam I was quite surprised to
see just how much water had been collected.  The dam level had been good,
but last night's rain had brought it right to the top.  Chris called out and
I ran around the dam to the overflow to join him and Nick.  "Look, James,
the dam is going to overflow in a few minutes," he excitedly pointed out.
Water is a precious commodity in Australia.  There are no huge mountain
ranges in Western Australia that have snow-caps to provide water flow to
river systems.  Instead, dams have been built on some major rivers and
catchment areas to trap whatever the winter season provides in the way of
rainfall.  These large dams provide water to the cities and towns of the
southwest region of the state, supplemented with artesian bore water and
desalination systems fed by seawater.  Whilst there is enough water for
general usage, we are always aware that there is no surplus and care must
always be taken in the use of water.  So it is always a day of celebration
when a dam, even a small one like mine, fills up and overflows.

We had some time to wait, so we sat close together on the bank of the dam
near the overflow and smoked as we watched the rising water level.  My dam
had not overflowed for five years, so it was a significant moment for me
when, finally, the water trickled over the lip of the overflow and began a
perilous journey down the spillway and back into the creek further along.
Chris, Nick and I hugged each other as the emotion of the moment was shared
between us.  We watched as the trickle became something of a flow, and
continued to build in quantity until a fairly decent flood was running out
from my dam.  I was pleased to see the overflow because it would mean a
general flushing of my dam, providing cleaner water than I would have
otherwise had for the rest of the year.

The water would continue flowing of it's own accord and did not need our
supervision.  The three of us made our way back towards the house when a
fresh shower of rain, not heavy as the previous night's had been, reminded
us that it would be warmer and dryer indoors.  Besides, it was several hours
since we had had coffee and I knew we needed some.

The stove had faithfully kept the house comfortable and I had thought to put
some kettles of water on before we went out to work, so it was only a matter
of minutes before we were comfortably out of our coats, sitting by the fire
with steaming coffee and aromatic cigarettes.  We nibbled at some dry
biscuits I had put out as a snack.  Power had been restored and the boys put
the TV on to see what news of the storm aftermath they could glean and to
find out the weather forecasts for the coming days.  Reports of damage, some
of it significant, were shown on the screen, anchormen and women in their
usual style adding to the sensationalism of the stories with their own
inconclusive comments.  Of particular interest to us was one report showing
the grain terminal in our town, part of the roof blown away and some other
structural damage apparent.

"That looks like our car," shouted Nick.  "Look, see there, when the
helicopter comes around past the trees you will see it again."  The live
coverage reporter was making a generic commentary from a TV aircraft.  Sure
enough, the car swept into view again as the camera recorded another angle
of the damaged building.  I could clearly see the white Volvo wagon that I
had first encountered with my new family at the petrol station.  By time the
boys had found the remote and turned the volume up, the news had moved on to
other things.  "I wonder if we should ring the terminal to see if Connie
will be coming out here today?  It looks like they may have called him in to
work to help with the damage control."  I said to the boys.  Chris agreed.
"Good idea, James.  Then we will know he is okay as well."

"Let me put you on to the Depot Manager.  Please hold a moment." A young
receptionist told me when I rang the grain terminal.  I had asked if there
was any chance of speaking with Constantine Kouros.  I listened to some
bland recorded music until the call was taken.  "Grant Smith here, Mr
MacMannis.  How can I help you?"  The Depot Manager spoke clearly into the
phone.  "Good morning, Grant.  I would like to speak with Constantine Kouros
if I may.  I have been caring for his two younger brothers at my house
during the storm last night.  Connie, that's Constantine, said he would be
coming out here today, but we just saw on TV that you have had quite a bit
of damage, and in the car park we could see Connie's car.  The boys want to
know he is okay.  That's all."

"Are Connie's brothers near you at the moment, Mr MacMannis?" the Manager
asked.  "Yes, as a matter fact they are right beside me now."  "Perhaps I
had better tell you first, then, if necessary, speak to the boys."  The
first tingling of apprehension crept up my spine.  "What is the matter?" I
asked him.  He went on to explain that the building had begun to suffer
damage from wind-blown debris around 2am and, as far as they could tell,
broke up shortly after.  The roof had been blown clear across the railroad
tracks and was lying on the town football field about half a kilometre away.
  Once it was light, Mr Smith had been taken to the site of his terminal by
a police vehicle so he could assess the damage.  A little later in the
morning he had called in the staff and workforce to help protect important
office records and try to restore some order to the chaotic mess in the
buildings.  Chris was one of those called in because he had been staying
with a friend, who also worked at the terminal.  Mr Smith had sent Chris and
another older guy to check the yard office, some 150 metres from the main
office.  They had done what they could there and were coming back past the
main grain receival point when they saw some waybills fluttering in the
covered truck bay.

The floors were very wet and slippery.  Connie was going to take his boots
off and wade in to get the paperwork, but his companion told him it might be
safest to wear the boots, even if they were going to get saturated.  They
started off together, but Connie said for him to wait at the front because
there was no point two people getting their feet wet.  He got the papers and
was on his way back when he slipped on the rail line.  Connie landed hard on
a barrier block and did some nasty damage to his arms.  "He is at the
hospital now, Mr MacMannis, and we expect to get a report from the doctor
within the hour.  He is in good spirit, but, as you can imagine, very sore."
  "Thanks for the detail.  I think it would be best if we make our way in to
town and be at the hospital to get the doctors report.  If the roads don't
give us any trouble we should be there by midday," I responded.  "Great.  I
will meet you there at 12."  "Oh, and by the way," I said, "Please call me
James."  We rang off and I told the boys the detail they were waiting to
hear.

Another of my small collection of vehicles is a Toyota four-wheel-drive
wagon.  I reckoned that it would be the best vehicle to negotiate slippery
and wet roadways with, so with little else to do except get the boys into
the car, we were soon on our way in to town.  The roads were covered in
branches and the occasional whole tree.  Building materials littered the way
from where it had been torn from structures.  I realised that we had done
quite well, considering the outcome many others had suffered.  One waterway
was running deeply with floodwaters, so Chris got out and walked through the
surging stream, his feet feeling to make sure the roadway was still intact
beneath the water.  It was, and we negotiated the flood with no great
problem, collecting him from where he waited at the far side of the
watercourse.  A smaller vehicle would probably have been swept off the road
or, at very least, have had the engine flooded.

Close to midday we arrived at the hospital and found the car park absolutely
full.  Cars were everywhere they could fit, and we realised that Connie was
not the only one who had suffered some medical condition as a result of the
storm.  I pulled the Toyota off the road a few hundred metres back from the
hospital into the only space I could see, and we walked from there.

Grant was already in the waiting room when we found our way to the
outpatients and emergency section.  Introductions were made all around and
we searched around for some seats where we could wait for the doctor's
report.  The place was really overcrowded and we ended up sitting in a
passageway near enough to the reception area that we could hear any
announcements made, but far enough that we were out of the worst of the
traffic.  Chris said he would step outside for a smoke, and Nick went with
him.

Half an hour went by with no word, then the reception called for Grant on
the public address system.  The four of us went together to the counter and
Grant introduced himself and us three to the doctor standing there.
"Constantine has suffered fractures to both his arms as a result of the
fall.  It seems he hit something very hard.  His right arm is broken near
the elbow and his left wrist is shattered.  Neither of these is a serious
injury nor is Constantine any longer in great pain.  He is, however, unable
to use his arms at all for the next two or thee weeks.  I have set his wrist
in a hand splint and his arm in a full brace.  We need room here
desperately, so if you have a vehicle," he cocked his head in query, and on
receiving a brief nod from me, continued, "I would like you to take him home
now.  He can come in here in a few days for a check-up and more medications.
  Now if you will excuse me, I have to deal with a lot of other people here.
  Constantine is over in cubicle seven," the doctor said, indicating a
curtained off area as he dashed to his next patient.

Nick rushed to the curtain and drew it back as we got there.  Connie was
sitting on a bed, his arms immobilised by the dressings the doctor had
described.  I hardly noticed any of that, because sitting there in front of
me was another stunning beauty of a man, identical to the mould from which
his brothers had been made.  It was eerie to see an older Chris, or a much
older Nick, sitting there on the bed, waiting for us.  The boys had begun
talking to him, so Grant and I stood back a little to let them deal with
their more immediate needs.  Connie, as surprised as we had been, made some
comment about the new-look of Chris's baldness.  Eventually, Connie was able
to acknowledge Grant and myself.  I made a comment to the effect that it was
wonderful to meet him at last, although I had hoped for better
circumstances!

Grant wanted to make sure Connie was going to be cared for, and I assured
him that I, or rather, we would take him home and he would be fine.  The
terminal has an accident benefit scheme that would guarantee Connie's salary
for the duration of his recovery, Grant explained to Connie.  He had to get
back to his other problems at the terminal, so he left us, asking Connie to
give him a daily update on his progress.  Connie looked at me and, in that
mellifluous voice I had heard on the telephone, said, "James, I am so sorry
to have caused this disruption to your work.  I am really concerned that I
have put you out - firstly by you having to look after the boys and now
having to run in to town to pick me up.  Perhaps if I could prevail on you
just this one time more to take us home, I would certainly appreciate it."
"Connie, it really is a great pleasure for me to look after your brothers
and not a problem at all to have come in here today.  There is no way I
could leave you to care for yourself.  So we will get you out of here right
away and home to my place where you can be properly cared for."  "Oh, no.  I
can't trouble you any more than we already have," Connie objected.  "Please
just take me to our place.  My brothers can care for me."

"No they can't."  I said, maybe a little too firmly.  "For one thing, you
will not have a car for a while, the roads are not passable to light
vehicles.  For another, how can the boys look after you when they have no
medical training?  I have a paramedic training background, so it should
count for something.  Also, I would be worried sick if you were up at your
place and I couldn't see for myself how you were coming along.  You are
coming to my place, and I will not hear another thing about it for at least
two days, after we have been back here to see what the doctor says."

Connie saw the logic in what I had explained.  With the help of his
brothers, got him out of bed.  He was still dressed in his wet work clothes,
the hospital far too busy to worry about inconsequential matters like
patient comfort under the present circumstances.  In the drawer of the
nightstand were Connie's wristwatch and wallet, along with a pack of tobacco
and a lighter.  We quickly bundled his things together and I looked
everywhere for his shoes but couldn't find them.  "I got them to pull them
off me at the office," Connie explained.  "I hate wearing them at the best
of times and, because it was the shoes that made me slip in the receival
shed, I wasn't going to wear them any more."  Just like Nick, I thought.
Chris didn't have to worry about shoes because he did not have to wear them
at any time.  So off we marched to the car, my two boys and their older
brother, bare feet slapping the tiled floor of the hospital corridor as we
made our way between the other people waiting for treatment or results of
diagnosis.