Date: Sun, 5 Aug 2012 23:03:33 -0700 From: B.E. Kelley <hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com> Subject: The Foundling Chapter 5 This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization. This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further. Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com The Foundling Chapter 5: Decisions, Decisions The next couple of days were a flurry of activity but I was largely left out of it. My father's funeral would take place the day before Thanksgiving and George and Nancy were stuck making the arrangements for both events. They asked me my opinion on this and that but I was glad I was able to leave most of the details to them. They offered to cancel their family Thanksgiving plans but I begged them not to, the last thing I wanted was to be a burden and I thought that the change from a somber occasion to a festive one might help my mood a little. Nancy called every number in my father's cell phone but she wasn't sure how many people would attend his service. It's not hard to understand why; I didn't know many New Yorkers who would cancel their holiday travel plans to drive 5 hours to the middle of nowhere the day before Thanksgiving. It made me a little sad that my dad wouldn't have a big sendoff but it was also a relief. I'd taken Nancy's suggestion that I play the piano, rather than speak, and I was nervous that I might screw it up. I devoted most of my time to rehearsing the piece I'd selected, Living Without You, by George Winston. I love George Winston's music; he seems to have a piece that expresses my every emotion, now I just need to figure out how not to cry every time I play it. The Prescott's gave me space but they were also there for me when I needed them, in fact, they've been wonderful. I've never been afraid of the dark, not even as a little boy, but since this all happened I've had trouble getting to sleep. Looking out that bedroom window, into the darkness and the cold, it just unnerves me. Fortunately, Jamie hasn't complained about sleeping with me, he simply snuggles up close and offers me the comfort I need. That doesn't always work though, twice now I've woken up from a dream where I'm reliving the night my dad was killed. Every time I reach the part where I run through the pines and tumble off the cliff, I wake up screaming. Jamie does his best to help but even his friendly smile and easy charm is no match for these awful dreams. I wake up dripping in cold sweat, my body trembling so hard I feel like my spine is going to snap. So far the only thing that's managed to calm me down is Nancy's singing. Each time this has happened, she's come in, sat next to me on the bed, put her arms around me and rocked me while singing the same haunting lullaby. The next morning, I wake up embarrassed that I can't control myself but no one's said anything, they've been so reassuring. I hope the dreams stop soon, George says that it won't heal as fast as my arm, but eventually my mind will stop torturing itself like this. Rachel Prescott and George's parents, Howard and Catherine, arrived the morning of the service. It was my first time meeting any of them but they greeted me as warmly as they did Jamie and Dylan. I apologized for ruining their Thanksgiving but they wouldn't have any of it. They said that whether I decided to stay or not, I was family now and that a family takes care of you when you're down. I also felt a rapport with Howard; after all, my grandpa said he was a good man. When it was time for the service, I dressed in the black suit Dylan had loaned me, it fit ok and I wore it with my school tie. "I've got a black tie, you sure you don't want to wear that one instead?" said Dylan. "I'm sure, this one's special," I replied. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but what makes it special?" he asked, as he started to tie it for me. "It's my school tie, my dad and my grandpa went there, it just makes me feel close to them," I explained. "Well, in that case, I think it looks great," said Dylan, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Thanks," I replied glumly. And then it was time to go. I sat nervously in the back of the car and my hands started to tremble, ever so slightly. Jamie reached out and took one, Dylan took the other. Their kind gesture was reassuring and as we pulled up in front of the church the shaking stopped. I was stunned by the site before me, as I got out of the car; it looked like the entire town had shown up. I recognized some of my dad's New York friends, his lawyer and some of our neighbors. They were easy to spot in their city best, but they were virtually swallowed by a sea of men and women wearing jackets with Tyson Wire and Cable printed on the back, it looked like the whole factory had been closed for this event. The crowd parted and grew quiet, the men took off their hats and bowed their heads, I took a deep breath and walked towards the door. I felt several hands reach out and pat me on the back as I passed, there were also muffled condolences and the occasional `God Bless you Benji." I'd never been more touched by anything in my life, I didn't know these people but they took their time to honor my father and offer me their support, I told you this town is a special place. The Prescott's guided me to the front pew and I took my seat. I was seated on the end, so that I could get up when it was time for me to play the piano. Nancy, at my request, was right next to me, followed by George and the boys. "Are you doing ok?" asked Nancy. I wanted to look at her but I knew I would see the sympathy in her eyes and I might start crying. I had to stay focused if I was going to get through this. I kept my eyes forward and nodded my reply, then the service began. Reverend Wesley spoke about God's plan for us all and how he works in mysterious ways, then he talked about my dad as a boy and how he continued to call Tyson's Corner his hometown even after he'd left. He spoke about his generosity and kindness and his pride as a parent, then it was my turn. "As some of you may know, Benjamin's son, Benji, is a talented pianist, and has decided to pay his final respects to his father through song," said Reverend Wesley, "Benji, would you like to come forward?" I stood up and my legs wobbled a bit but I found the strength to walk forward. The church pianist stood aside and even though I didn't need it, she left the sheet music for Living Without You, on the stand. I sat on the bench, closed the sheet music and found an engraved bronze plaque on the face of the piano: Donated by the Tyson Family in Honor of Leslie Anne Tyson, Wife of Benjamin II, Mother of Benjamin III, I remember my music in the night, with my heart I meditate, and my spirit doth search diligently. I sighed and my shoulders sagged but then I looked out the window, into the churchyard, into the cemetery and there they were again, my family. My mom and my grandpa were there and then my dad appeared. He looked distraught and disoriented, as if he'd just woken up after being shot. My mom comforted him and my grandpa seemed to notice me watching, he gave me a thumbs up and a reassuring smile. I couldn't hear what they were saying but it was obvious that my mom was trying to explain things to my dad. It only took a few seconds but he seemed to calm down, then he turned toward the window and smiled at me. "Benji, are you sure you're up to this?" asked Reverend Wesley. I snapped out of my trance and looked at the minister, then back at my family, but they were gone. I closed my eyes and focused on the music, I played the first few notes but something felt wrong. This song was about grief, it expressed how I felt right now, but it didn't express how I felt about my dad in general. I stopped after only a few notes, there were mutters in the congregation, people assumed that I had broken down and was unable to continue; Nancy and George stood up to come and get me. Things settled down when I resumed, only this time I was playing one of dad's favorite song's and found myself singing along. When I find myself in times of trouble Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be And in my hour of darkness She is standing right in front of me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be Let it be, let it be Let it be, let it be Whisper words of wisdom, let it be And when the broken hearted people Living in the world agree There will be an answer, let it be For though they may be parted There is still a chance that they will see There will be an answer, let it be Let it be, let it be Let it be, let it be Yes there will be an answer, let it be Let it be, let it be Let it be, let it be Whisper words of wisdom, let it be Let it be, let it be Ah let it be, yeah let it be Whisper words of wisdom, let it be And when the night is cloudy There is still a light that shines on me Shine on until tomorrow, let it be I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me Speaking words of wisdom, let it be Yeah let it be, let it be Let it be, yeah let it be Oh there will be an answer, let it be Let it be, let it be Let it be, yeah let it be Oh there will be an answer, let it be Let it be, let it be Ah let it be, yeah let it be Whisper words of wisdom, let it be When the song was over, I opened my eyes and found tears streaming down my face. I quickly walked back to the pew, almost falling into it. Nancy put her arm around my shoulder and I rested my head against her while I sobbed. "Thank you Benji that was a moving tribute and I'm sure your father would have been touched," said Reverend Wesley, "at this time, I'd like to invite any members of the congregation to step forward and share a few words about Benjamin." I sat there crying against Nancy's shoulder but no one got up, that only hurt worse. All these people and no one had anything nice to say about my dad? It must be a thing with public speaking, no one ever wants to be first but when it looked like no one was going to stand up, a man a few rows behind us, got up and walked to the pulpit. "My names Tom Spencer, I grew up with Ben Tyson and I'm proud to say he was my best childhood friend," he began, "even when he went away to school, we stayed in touch and I was always happy to see him when he was home for the holidays or summer." "I'm sitting here today, thinking how I shouldn't be here, how this family that has given so much to our town shouldn't have to suffer another tragic loss. I think about the boy I knew and the man he became, even though we'd lost touch over the years, I still considered him my friend." "I'm looking out at my family, my son Avery is Benji's age, what would I want someone to say about me if this were my funeral? Ben Tyson was a great man but I never got the chance to tell him that and I guess that's the point, say what's in your heart because if you don't say it now, maybe you'll never get the chance." Mr. Spencer's speech rambled a little but it was nice, I didn't know he'd been friends with my father. He walked passed me, stopped, placed his hand on my shoulder and then walked back to join his family. Mr. Spencer's speech opened the flood gate and now there was a line forming as people waited for their turn at the microphone. I heard stories about my father's childhood, about pranks he'd pulled and accomplishments he'd had on the athletic field, by the time the last person spoke, I was even laughing at some of the anecdotes. When the service was over, George drove us to my grandfather's house. At least it had been his house, since his death, it had been used to house the managing director of Tyson Wire and Cable, Mr. Tompkins. Bill Tompkins knew my father well, he'd reported to him since my grandfather died and he'd known him as a boy. He'd graciously offered the house for a reception following the funeral and once we were inside, I broke away from the Prescott's and sat alone in the study. The room still looked like it had when my grandfather sat behind the desk, the walls were paneled in a rich mahogany, there was a leather sofa and chairs, walls lined with books and there was a fireplace on the north wall for those cold New Hampshire nights. I took a seat in my grandfather's chair, rested my head on the desk and tried to clear my mind. I couldn't have been in there for more than a few minutes before there was a knock at the door. "Benji, Mr. Carson is here, he'd like to speak with you now," said George, when he stuck his head in the door. Todd Carson was my dad's attorney and one of the first people the Prescott's called when they started making arrangements. When he heard the news, he informed us that he would be here for the service and that he would meet with us at the reception afterwards. He was a familiar face, I'd spotted him in the church, and I'd seen him many times back in New York. "Ok, can you and Nancy come in here with us?" I asked. "Sure kiddo, let me go and get them," said George. I sat up as straight as I could but I still felt small behind the huge desk that men of my family had sat behind for generations, managing the wire and cable business. George was back in a matter of seconds, leading Nancy and Mr. Carson along behind him. "Benji, I can't tell you how sorry I am about your daddy, he wasn't just a client, he was one of my good friends and I'm really going to miss him," said Mr. Carson, he'd also spoken at the service. "Thanks Mr. Carson, I'm glad you came up," I replied. "I would have come regardless but as it happens, your father made me executor of his will, I have it with me and I thought this would be the best time to read it," said Mr. Carson. "Oh, I didn't know that, ok," I replied. "Before I begin, do you know what you want to do now?" asked Mr. Carson, "Technically you're a ward of the state but as executor of your father's estate, I can make arrangements for you to go back to Choate or if there is a family friend you might like to live with..." "Dr. and Mrs. Prescott have offered to let me stay with them," I said, nodding at George and Nancy, "Can you make arrangements for that?" "Of course, I'll have some documents drawn up and we'll get that settled," said Mr. Carson. "Thanks, that's one less thing to worry about," I sighed. This was the first time George and Nancy had heard me voice my decision to stay with them, I would have preferred to do it in private but Mr. Carson needed an answer for his paperwork and I didn't want there to be any question about where I wanted to be or who I wanted as my guardians. "Well then, let's get down to the will," said Mr. Carson pulling the document from his briefcase. "I, Benjamin E. Tyson II, being of sound mind and body do hear by bequeath my estate, all properties, investments and funds held there in, to my son and sole hire, Benjamin E. Tyson III," read Mr. Carson. The will was simple; Mr. Carson read a few more lines of legal gobbledygook and then asked if I had any questions. "Yeah, what does all of that mean?" I asked. "In plain terms, Benji, it means that everything that belonged to your father is now yours," said Mr. Carson. "Yeah, but what does that include?" I asked. Mr. Carson pulled out another file; this one was a list of assets. "For starters, you now own your home in New York City and all items contained therein, your father's financial portfolio currently valued at $58 million dollars, 30% of Excelsior Capitol Investments, representing your father's partnership in that firm and sole ownership of Tyson Wire and Cable, the value of those assets to be determined," said Mr. Carson. I took it all in; George and Nancy looked a little ashen. They knew I was a rich kid from a wealthy family, I just don't think they knew the extent of that wealth and the complications it would present to our lives. "Uh, Mr. Carson, as his guardians, we won't be expected to manage his estate?" asked George nervously. "No Dr. Prescott, there are a few provisions of the will that I need to make you all aware of," said Mr. Carson, "first off, all of the finances are to continue to be managed by Mr. Tyson's partners at Excelsior Capitol Investments. Financial decisions that would normally be made by Benjamin will be made by me, as executor of his will, until Benji reaches 18 years of age. Further, he won't gain sole control over all of his assets until he reaches age 21. Secondly, Tyson Wire and Cable will continue to be run by its managing director, Mr. Bill Tompkins, also until Benji reaches age 21." "Well, that's a relief," said George, and indeed he did seem to be breathing easier now. "I'll set up an account that you'll have access to, Dr. Prescott, and make monthly deposits to cover the costs of Benji's care such as food, clothing, medical and dental costs, etc... I'll also set up an account for Benji with a healthy monthly allowance to cover any personal expenses. I'll have a number of documents for you to sign, I'll have them brought up here by courier in order to expedite processing," said Mr. Carson. "At present, I need to know what you'd like to do with the house in New York, technically it's up to me as executor but it's your home, I want to do what you'd be most comfortable with," said Mr. Carson, addressing me. "Can I bring my mom's piano here?" I asked George and Nancy. "Of course you can sweetheart, mine is a piece of junk anyway, we'll get rid of it and make room for yours," said Nancy. "Mr. Carson, can you have my piano and all my clothes sent up here?" I asked. "I'll make arrangements for it as soon as I get back to the city, but what about the rest?" "I can't deal with that right now," I sniffled, knowing that there would be too many memories to sort through. "Tell you what, why don't I ship the things you want and keep the rest of the house as it is for now? I'll keep paying your father's housekeeper to look after things until such time as you're ready to make a final decision," said Mr. Carson. "Ok, that sounds good," I agreed. "Well then, that concludes our business today," said Mr. Carson, "Benji, I am truly sorry for your loss and I want you to know that my door will always be open to you if you ever have any questions about any of this. I'll also make arrangements to come up here every quarter and give you and your guardian's an update on all of your investments." "Thanks Mr. Carson, I know my dad really liked you and trusted you, I'll trust you to," I replied. The lawyer shook my hand and then joined the rest of the guests in attending the reception. "You handled that pretty well," said George. "I had to, that was all important stuff, and I wanted to make sure he knew I wanted to stay with you," I replied. "We're very happy you decided to stay," said Nancy, "It means the world to us." "It means a lot to me to, I thought about what you said and I wanna be close to my family," I explained, as first Nancy, then George hugged me. Nancy was about to say more but we were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Sorry to bug you," said Jamie, sheepishly, "but people are starting to ask for Benji and Dylan was too afraid to knock." "Shut up Jamie, I wasn't afraid," said Dylan, though he was still hidden behind the door. Nancy smiled at me and I returned it with a weak smile of my own. "Well kiddo, your public awaits, are you ready?" she asked. "I think so, but will you guys stay close to me?" I asked. "Of course we will, if you need to get away you just tell me and I'll get you some privacy," said George. I walked out into the large marble foyer and people instantly began to line up. It seemed that everyone was eager to offer their condolences, ask how I was holding up, or if there was anything they could do for me. I was touched by their support but I was also glad that the Prescott's were gathered around me like a pride of lions. George and Nancy were on each side of me; Jamie was close by and would occasionally give my hand a reassuring squeeze. Even Dylan and Rachel watched over me like a pair of bodyguards, ready to bring the wrath of God down on anyone that upset me. I made sure to speak with each of the guests, they had overwhelmed me with their kindness, I wasn't about to dishonor my father's memory by being rude to them. It took awhile to shake all those hands and accept all those hugs but at the end of the day, I was glad I'd done it. It was still early when we got home but I went up to bed anyway. I woke up again that night but this time without the screaming. Jamie was curled up beside me and I held on tightly to his small frame while the demons that haunted me subsided enough for me to get back to sleep. I woke up early on Thanksgiving Day, and extricated myself from the bed without waking Jamie. I stood over him for a few minutes, admiring his angelic face. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, I'm gay. I don't know how long I have been, or how long I've known, I guess I've always felt it. I don't want you to get the wrong idea though; I slept with Jamie because he made me feel safe, not because I was attracted to him. A lot of his beauty came from his sweet and caring nature and even though he wasn't shy about sex or at least talking about it, I wasn't planning to pursue him. Instead, I pulled the covers around him and tucked him in so that he wouldn't get a chill, while I went downstairs. The sun was just rising over the lake as I entered the kitchen. I thought I was the only one awake, until I heard a noise and turned my head to find Howard at the counter. "Good morning sunshine," said Howard cheerfully. "Morning Mr. Prescott," I grumbled. I wasn't angry; I'm just not a morning person. "Looks like you need some coffee," said Howard, "would you like a cup?" "Uh, sure," I replied, believe it or not I'd never had coffee before. Howard poured me a cup and I took my first drink. It was so bitter, I almost spit it out. I managed to swallow it but it took considerable effort and the aftertaste was atrocious. "First time?" asked Howard. "Yeah, it's so bitter," I frowned. "Here, try it with cream and sugar." I added cream and sugar, stirred my coffee until it was a soft beige and sure enough, the flavor improved. "Better?" asked Howard. "Yes sir, thank you," I replied. "I appreciate your manners sonny but you don't have to call me Mister or Sir, Howard's fine, or grandpa if you like," said Howard. "Sorry sir, er, I mean Howard," I apologized. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it," Howard smiled, "did you know, I knew your Grandpa Ben?" "Yeah, he told me," I said, absentmindedly. "He did?" said Howard, raising his eyebrow. "Er, I um, what I meant was, how did you know him?" I covered. "We grow up here in town, went to war together, Korea 1951," said Howard. "Really?" I asked, curious to hear the story. "Yeap, I always admired Ben for that," said Howard. "Why? You went to," I stated. "Yeah but you see, your great grand daddy got Ben a deferment but he refused, said if all his buddies were going to go, he wasn't about to stay at home and make cable," Howard explained. "Wow, I never heard that story before." "Yeah, Korea was something else," said Howard, a somber tone in his voice, "one of these days I'll tell you some stories." "Cool, I'd like that, I love history," I said. Howard smiled, reached over and ruffled my hair, then we sat quietly for a few minutes, drinking our coffee. "George and Nancy are real happy you decided to stay with them," said Howard, "Welcome to the family." "Thanks Howard, but..." I sighed. "But?" asked Howard. "Well, I'm really glad they're so nice, all of you, even the boys, but, I don't understand it," I stated. "What's there to understand?" said Howard. "It hasn't even been a week yet, they hardly know me, why would they want me and all my baggage?" I asked. "I think it's a small town thing," said Howard. "Small town thing?" I asked. "You grew up in New York, right?" "Yes," I answered. "Well, in the big city, people are different, there isn't a lot of care for your fellow man, it's rush, rush, rush and fend for yourself," Howard began, "In a small town, we take care of our own, we all know your family in some way or other, even if it's just by reputation. You may have grown up in the city, but you're still one of us." "Yeah but..." I interrupted. "George and Nancy always wanted a house full of kids, but after Rachel was born, they couldn't have any more children, did you know that?" said Howard. "No, I hadn't heard that," I admitted. "Yeah, Nancy was real upset, blamed herself, but there was nothing she could do," Howard continued, "Then one day they got it into their heads to try adoption and along came Jamie and Dylan. George and Nancy love those boys like they were their own, we all do. Give our family a chance and we'll do the same for you." "Thanks Howard, I feel a little better about things now," I replied. We talked for a few more minutes and I discovered that I really liked Howard. He was cool for an old guy, he reminded me of my grandpa a lot. Eventually the rest of the family joined us in the kitchen, where we ate a light breakfast. Everyone was saving room for the feast Nancy and her mother in law were preparing that afternoon. Thanksgiving with the Prescott's was different from any I'd had before. When I was a little boy, mom, dad and I would drive up to Tyson's Corner to have dinner with my grandpa, just the four of us. Then we lost mom and grandpa and it was just dad and I, sitting in some little New England diner with our turkey and cold mashed potatoes. This was more of a celebration, the women spent the morning in the kitchen, Howard and George took me and the boys outside to toss the football, ok they tossed, I watched, and at dinner time we all stumbled to the table laughing and enjoying each other's company. I even forgot to be sad for a few hours, it's amazing how that happens. When all was said and done, when dinner and dessert had been served and the football games watched, I found myself back in bed with Jamie. I laid there with the little blond in my arms and for the first time in days, I wasn't thinking about the dark and snow that haunted my dreams. I looked back on a perfect day, at how happy I'd felt, and how much I wished my dad could have been part of it. My thoughts were full of memories of dad and I, but I didn't cry, these were happy memories, the kind that took away my sorrow and warmed my heart. I was deep in thought when Jamie started giggling. "Benji, that tickles," Jamie giggled. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "That," said Jamie, as he reached back and squeezed my boner," It's rubbing my butt." "Oh geez, I'm sorry Jamie, I didn't even notice," I blushed. I really hadn't noticed, I wasn't thinking about sex, it must have come from the friction. "It's ok, it happens, roll over," said Jamie. I rolled on my back, curious to see what Jamie was up to. He sat up, pulled the covers back then pushed my t shirt up a few inches before he pulled down the front of my pajamas and underwear. "Jamie, what are you doing?" I exclaimed, while he wrapped his fingers around my hardon. "Just relax," said Jamie, as he started to slowly jerk my dick up and down, twisting his hand as he went. "Jamie, don't, ohhh," I groaned, as he masturbated me. I'd never experienced anything so exquisite in my life. Sure I jerked off, I am 14 after all, but I'd never had anyone else touch me like that before. Jamie's hands were soft and warm; the feeling on my dick was unbelievable. I wanted to stop him, I didn't think we should be doing this but in the argument between my brain and the incredible feelings coming from my dick, my dick won. It only took a couple of moments and then with an embarrassing little squeal, I came on my belly, some of it dribbling out over Jamie's fingers. "Good one," Jamie giggled, while I panted for breath, "you're all sticky." Jamie further surprised me by taking off his socks and using them to clean up the mess on my belly and his fingers. He was very thorough, getting all the goo off our skin, and then tossing his soiled socks into the hamper. He pulled up my pants and undies, pulled down my t shirt, made sure everything was arranged neatly, then laid back down to sleep as if nothing had happened. "Uh, thanks for that," I stated, once I found my voice. "You're welcome, I didn't think you'd jacked off in a few days and I thought it would help you sleep," Jamie explained. "Yeah, well you know, with everything that's happened, and then, well, I've never done it with someone else in the room before," I mumbled. "Really, never?" Jamie asked, incredulously. "First rule of prep school etiquette, never jerk off unless you're sure your roommate isn't coming back before you'll finish," I giggled. "They have rules for jerking off at preppy school?" Jamie exclaimed. "It's not something you'll find in the rulebook," I laughed, "It's kind of an unspoken rule." "Oh, well that's cool then, night Benji." I said goodnight and got comfortable, for the first time in a long time, I went to sleep with a smile on my face.