Thanks again for stopping by. Your comments and emails are always welcome and appreciated. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. J.
More than most years, both of the guys were looking forward to Christmas. Not only because it would be their first one together, which meant a lot just by itself. But also because it had been such an overwhelming past few months, both from a personal and an academic point of view.
They had both put in their graduate school applications, which took not only the effort of preparation but also gave a big haircut to their savings accounts. But the competition was fierce and they wanted to give themselves as much of a chance as possible. On the surface, they both agreed that they would attend the best school that each could get into, even if it meant different schools. And they each assured the other that they could make it through the 2 academic years that they may might be separated, thinking that it would be best for the other. But secretly, each dreaded the thought.
It had also been a time for Brad to catch up with his family. Both his Aunt and Grandfather sometimes did the one-hour drive to see the guys at school, and the guys reciprocated as much as possible. Somehow, they squeezed everything in, but every day was life at full speed.
Brad's grandfather and Aunt opened up a whole new world to him. Mr. Campagna, though retired, took time to explain his businesses to Brad, how they worked, how he made decisions and what it takes to run a company, small or large. To everyone around him, in fact, Mr. Campagna seemed to get a new lease-on-life[C. M.1] with Brad. Jill was especially impressed with the change, although at the same time she could see his age asserting its presence, too. He even talked of starting another business, maybe, he thought, his grandson would like to be part of it. But even if it didn't happen, just the act of planning for the future, rather than dwelling on the past, was a big step forward.
Brad had convinced Mike that they could wait to have the rings resized. He wasn't surprised that Mike was enthusiastic about getting the ring on as soon as possible, but It was going to cost a fair amount of money, money that they both had to invest in their future. For now, they each kept their rings in the top dresser drawer, in the same box that Robert Campagna had bought them in.
A few days before Christmas, the Kovars invited Brad's and Kurt's families for dinner. It wasn't a really fancy affair, just a hearty buffet prepared by Brad and Mrs. Kovar. They bought a honey baked ham, plus prepared some traditional Czech Christmas foods along with a few American staples, such as sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie and steamed green beans, though Brad always added a twist, such as a home-made whipped cream with cinnamon for the pie.
It was also an opportunity for the elder Kovars to meet Kurt's dad, which they'd been looking forward to for a long time. Anyone who could raise a kid to tame their daughter had their respect, plus for them he was like Brad's aunt and grandfather -- a chance to add a new member to the family.
The Hanna connection and interest was so strong, in fact, that they had actually forgotten that he had lived in Bohemia for a short time and that he spoke Czech. When he first arrived and greeted them in Czech, Mr. Kovar was momentarily speechless.
"Welcome, so much Mr. Metz. We've waited so long to meet you!" Mr. Kovar finally replied, resisting the temptation to speak Czech because of the other people around. But in the European style, without thinking, he gave Mr. Metz a kiss on each cheek, and received the same in return. Feeling exhilarated at the welcome, Mr. Metz gave Mike's mom an equally enthusiastic welcome.
After dinner, while everyone else had repaired to the living room and were talking and laughing, Mr. Metz approached the elder Kovars, who were still in the kitchen.
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked, thinking that perhaps he was still hungry.
"No nothing at all," he replied. "Dinner was absolutely delicious, but I think I've had about all my stomach can handle," he said, "I haven't had those sausages since I was in Prague."
"They're not easy to get here, but it's important for this time of year, so we like to do it." Mrs. Kovar said, as she put a final glass into the dishwasher and shut the door. "Neither of us are religious, but we just can't deny ourselves the food and the fun!" She said smiling.
"I wanted to mention something to you and Mr. Kovar," he said, sounding somewhat ominous. She wiped her hands and motioned that the three of them should maybe sit down, but he gently shook his hand that he was OK standing.
"What is it? she asked. "is everything OK?" Mr. Kovar too, looked concerned as he stepped closer.
He just smiled at them. "Everything is fine and good. What I wanted to say is that, well..." He got a bit of a wistful look on his face, sad and happy at the same time.
"I just wanted to tell you how much your Hanna has done for my Kurt," he said. "That boy was just just devastated about his mom. There were times that I wasn't sure he would ever recover. He just had this somberness about him, ever since his mom died." For a moment, Dr. Metz looked pretty somber himself.
"But Hanna has just made him come alive. He's just got everything back that he had as a kid, and more. He was always so much like his Mom, such a lively kid, not a bore like me," a gross exaggeration but at the same time a tribute to his wife. "Now he shows that spirit again, and I think I've got Hanna, and how you raised her, to thank for it. Thank you so much." He held Mrs. Kovars hands in his own.
"It's us who should be thanking you" Mr. Kovar said, as his wife nodded in agreement. "I wasn't sure she could be tamed by any guy, she just chewed them up and spit them out," he said, not exactly proudly.
"Yes, she's had that problem. But he doesn't take any grief from her." Mrs. Kovar said, in an understated way that made Mr. Kovar laugh. "But she worships Kurt. He's done something to her, we don't know how, or what, or why, but she's a changed person around him." She said. "I think she just respects him so much, how he handles himself, his goals, intelligence, ambition, but at the same time his kindness."
"He was raised well himself, and it shows."
"Thank his mother for that," he said, continuing his self-effacing manner. "They couldn't help but take after her." He gave all the credit to his wife, but it wasn't hard to see the other influences, too.
Like Christmas at many homes, the evenings leading up to it were crazy with activity, with visitors and coming in and out often during the evening. So it wasn't any surprise when they the doorbell ring, though the quick succession of rings was a little startling. It was almost like someone was pounding on the doorbell.
Brad got up from the couch were he had been lounging with Mike, first peeking out the window. Hanna and Kurt, who were also loafing around after eating a huge dinner, both saw a big smile on his face as he first opened the inside wood door then the outside storm door and finally squatted down to greet some mysterious little visitor.
"Hi Niko! Merry Christmas!" Brad yelled and gave a big smile, as the little 8 year old neighbor boy, the one who he almost hit with his truck the previous summer, launched himself into his arms. His given name was Nicholas, but the only place a person could find that name was on his birth certificate.
"Hi Uncle Brad" he said as he stretched over as far as he could to give him a big hug.
Brad looked up at the adult who was right behind Niko. "Come on in, Sarah. Merry Christmas!" he said to the boy's mom.
"Merry Christmas to you, too," she said. She gave a friendly wave to everyone else around, with way too many of them to make individual greetings.
"He brought a present for you and Uncle Mike. Didn't you, Niko?"
"Yes!" the youngster cried out. "Here, Uncle Brad. I hope you like it," he said as he pressed a garishly wrapped, thin package, more of an envelope, into Brad's hands. Mike bounced off the couch and immediately joined them.
"Thank you!" Mike said, as he, too, got down to look Niko in the eye. "this is really nice of you!" Thank you so much!"
"Your welcome," he said as he gave Mike a big hug, too.
Sarah was a single mom who had just moved into the neighborhood last summer, and Mike and Brad had become a sort of surrogate Dad for the young boy, whose own Dad had split last year.
She was extremely tall, just a little above Brad's height, and her husband had been a big person, too. It showed with Niko, who was half a head above all his classmates. He loved learning sports and playing with his `uncles,' both who thought that he was destined to be an extremely talented athlete.
"Thanks so much for all you guys did for him this year. He thinks the world of you both!" she said, after Niko had ran off to the kitchen when Mrs. Kovar called him to come for some treats.
"It's nothing, Sarah," Brad said, speaking for them both. "He's a great kid. I just wish we had more time. He's one of the reasons we came back from school a lot of weekends this semester. He's so much fun to play with, and I think he's going to be a great football player. And I can say I was his first coach." Brad said with a laugh.
"That's if he doesn't pick soccer instead," Mike chimed in, giving Brad a punch to the shoulder, not yet willing to concede Niko's career choices.
"You should know that you guys have really saved me, and him. I wasn't sure what would happen to him after his Dad left. He had become so down, and I couldn't blame him." She said quietly. "But you guys have been a big part of his recovery. I just wish we could thank you more, get you something really nice, but money is a little..."
Brad interrupted her. "Sarah, whatever present he gave us, I'm sure it's great, but in the end, it doesn't matter how big or small. I've had the kind of fun from him that money can't buy."
"Uncle Brad!" NIko called out as he raced back from the kitchen. "Will you open my present now?" he said right before taking his first bite of kolachy.
"Of course we will, if you want us to. But right now?" Brad asked.
"Right now!" he said, continuing to munch.
Brad handed the package to Mike. "Do the honors!"
Mike took it and carefully remove the wrapper, placing it neatly on the coffee table as he held up the present to Brad.
It was a children's sketch of the two guys, leaning against each other, with big crayon labels underneath saying Uncle Brad' and Uncle Mike.' The were standing next to a snow man. The drawing was signed, Love, Niko."
Brad looked at it, then looked down at Niko, who was staring up at him. He picked him up, no, swooped him up of the ground and put the little boy into another big hug. "Oh it's so nice Niko, Did you draw it yourself?
He shook his head in the affirmative, as he continued on another piece of Christmas pastry.
Brad gave him a big kiss to the cheek. "Can I have a kiss, too?" he said. "That will make it perfect."
Niko demurred for a second, looking sideways and giggling, then bent over and gave Brad a big, wet, smooch to the cheek, leaving crumbs on his face. Straightening back up again, he looked at Brad's cheek and started giggling again.
"Oops, sorry, Uncle Brad!" Niko said rather unconvincingly as his impish smile lit up the room.
"Are you going to pick a name soon?" Mike asked, rearranging presents underneath the tree in order to add some late arrivals.
Brad was sitting on the couch, staring at the fire. "gosh I don't know yet. I'm not sure what name to use, Stewart or Campagna. The only thing I'm sure of is that North has to go," he said with an emphasis on the last phrase. Any more suggestions, Pup?"
"No, not really. It's not an easy decision, though it's the right thing to do. You want to honor them both, but I guess that you want to keep it simple, too." Mike said, as finished placing he final present. "Like I said before, I guess you try to ask yourself what they would have done if things had turned our differently."
"Whenever I try to do it that way, it usually comes down to Campagna, they way most people do it, with the guys name as the family name. I just don't want to fee like I'm shortchanging my Mom."
Mike wanted him to make the best decision, but he also didn't want him to dwell too much on it. "That might be the simplest way of doing it, babe. Maybe we just think of another way of honoring your Mom, like naming one of the kids after her, or giving them her last name as a middle name."
Brad was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. He really felt great when Mike talked about their kids, even if they were way off in the future. "That might be the right way to do it. I think we'll have lots of people who we'll want to name them after, but if we could reserve this one, I think that would be great."
"Done." Mike said, as he returned to the couch.
When it came time to open the gifts, they at first argued about who should open first, until they decided by flip of the coin.
"You dog!" Brad teased, as he handed Mike his present. They both laughed as Brad pulled an envelope out from under the tree.
"What's this?" Mike asked, as he held it up to the light, trying to figure out what was inside. Brad laughed again, but then became serious.
"Um, it's not a lot pup, I mean, I wish I could have done more, but..."
Mike put his hand over Brad's mouth. "Whatever you get me is great, because it's from you." Pulling his hand off of Brad's mouth, he then twisted his nose. "got it?' he said.
Brad just shook his head. "OK, Well, we'll see what you think."
Mike got up and retrieved knife from the kitchen, wanting to open the envelope as carefully as possible. He came back into the living room and sat down cross-legged next to Brad.
Gently slitting open the envelope he pulled out a single folded sheet of paper, which said, `LOOK IN THE GARAGE"
He looked up and smiled. "Come with me!" he ordered Mike, as he pulled him up off the floor. He continued holding Mike's hand as he dragged him along behind, anxious to get there as soon as possible.
When they finally got in , though, all that Mike saw was the empty garage. His parent's car had, unusually, been left outside. In fact, he rarely went into the garage in the winter since he didn't have any use for summer gardening equipment. The only thing he saw was some object in the corner with a dark grey blanket draped over it.
"Is that for it?' Mike asked.
"Uh huh." You can lift up the blanket now." He said, then tried to temper the expectation a little bit. "You can use it more in the future, but I thought you might want to start collecting some now."
At first, Mike just peeked up underneath it, afraid to jar what was underneath. Then Brad heard "oh wow!!!"
It was the kind of present that only a woodworker or builder would appreciate. It was a 10" table saw. Used, but in very good condition.
Mike looked back at Brad, dumfounded. "Babe, how did you afford this? It's a really nice one, and it probably costs 2000 bucks!"
"Well, it's not new and I didn't buy It with cash, I bartered for it." He explained. "Remember this past semester when you were late in the wood shop a lot and I told you I was doing my `President of the Intramural League' stuff?"
"yeah?"
Well, I was doing that, but I as also tutoring one of the guys on the team. He was pretty desperate to pass his Revolutionary Period history test, and needed, let's say, a lot of assistance. Anyway, his Dad sells this stuff, and instead of cash, we worked out a deal," he said. "And just to be on the safe side, my Grandpa helped me check it out and make sure it was OK. He was a contractor, you know, and he understands these things a lot better than me," he said with a laugh.
Mike ran his hands gently across the table, then lightly brushed his fingertips along the blade "wow, It's great! Looks like carbide!" he then smiled a little sheepishly. "I must be the only gay guy in the world who is happy he got a table saw for Christmas." He put his arms around and gave him one of those kisses that set Brad's head spinning.
"We can keep it in storage until we build a house, or do remodeling."
After looking it over several more times, he tugged on Brads shirt. "OK, time to go in. Now it's my turn to give." Mike said with a big smile, as he pulled Brad back into the living room. Moving them both onto their knees, he pulled a red box, about 12" by 12" square, out from underneath the tree.
"Open!" he ordered.
At first, Brad just shook the box. "hmm...no moving parts...what could it be?"
Mike teased back, "You won't know until you open it, will you?"
"Well, OK. Here goes!" He placed the present on the floor and started to unwrap it, first removing the white ribbon and then carefully tearing away the simple red wrapping paper. After removing the ribbon and paper, he came to a custom made cardboard box. He used the knife that Mike had earlier retrieved to slowly slice open the tape holding the box together, removing one side and then another.
When he had finally revealed the object, he wasn't exactly sure what it was, except he did notice it had draws, very thin ones. He looked closely and saw that each drawer had some writing. Looking closer he realized that each was a different date.
Scrutinizing each thin draw he discovered that the dates were in succession, from top to bottom, each date slightly later than the other...then he realized the year of the dates...it was about 20 years before...
He just looked at Mike, dumbfounded. He rapidly blinked his eyes to avoid tearing up.
"You've just been keeping those letters in that damn box of your stepmother's. I thought they deserved something better," Mike said.
Brad wiped his eyes, still struggling to keep them dry as he sniffled. "When did you do this, Pup?"
"Well, mostly my work-study time in the woodshop. I made sure that I helped everyone, did my duty and all that, but in reality not a lot of people use the shop. So I had time during my so-called working hours. Then I just squeezed in some other time as I had to."
Brad was quiet for a few moments before Mike heard, "it's the nicest thing anyone's ever gotten me."
Without speaking further, he wrapped his hand on Mike's shoulder . God, he has a beautiful neck!' Brad thought. kind of longer than most guys, and very lean,' He could see almost every sinewy muscle in it. Though he had first seen Mike a year ago, and had made love too him too many times to count, he still seemed to notice something new about him every day.
He anchored his hand on that incredible neck and pulled Mike into one of his own killer kisses.
Before Hanna and Kurt left for the night to take Kurt's Dad home, Mike corralled them into the role of family Christmas photographer. After taking various pictures of members of the family, and reciprocating with Kurt and Hanna and Kurt's Dad, Mike explained what, to him, was the climax of the picture session.
"I want to start a tradition for Brad and I, and you all should do it for yourselves, too," he said, "Every year I want of picture of us at Christmas. Right now, it's just Brad and me and well, " he said, glancing down at Tony, who was leaning against his leg, "maybe him."
He had thought a lot about how this would be staged. He and Brad would be sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, presents, just the two of them smiling for the camera. And in years to come, they would, hopefully, add their kids in between them. The camera would always be at the same, height, the same distance away and the guys would sit the same way.
Pulling Brad down beside him, they both sat cross-legged, right next to each other but with their arms at their sides, or on their legs. It had to look casual, yet be regimented enough so that the changes over the years would be clear.
"Are you OK now? Is this all right?" Kurt asked.
"I think so. Does it look OK in the viewfinder?"
Hanna piped in. "Yea, it looks fine. You can always correct Brad in Photoshop, too, you know. So you're not stuck with his normal look."
"I get to take yours, Hanka," Brad said, having adopted the Kovar moniker for her. "But I'm not sure you'll show up on film." He said, using his teeth to do a vampire imitation.
"Picture Please!" Mike ordered, as Kurt have him the OK sign and they both smiled for the camera.
"CLICK!"
***** "What do you think of him, Dad?" Jill asked. She enjoyed time off at Christmas as much as any harried executive, and spend a lot of it visiting her Dad.
Her Dad paused. He always did that when he had a serious answer. Looking across the kitchen table from him, she only saw him put his coffee down.
It was very quiet for a moment, but finally he spoke. His voice quavered a bit, a bit less steady than usual. "I've only know him now for a few months, Jill." he said. He paused again, but suddenly got his usual assurance back.
"But I have to tell you, it astonishes me how much he's like his parents. And their best parts, too. He's got your brother's spirit and spunk, but without his temper, or should I say, my temper, or a least my old temper," he said, with a slight smile. "but he reins in the wilder parts with his Mom's self-control and calmness."
"He gets his sports stuff from her, too, that's for sure! She seemed to play every sport, and was pretty good at all of them. I actually think that Robert met her when she was coaching the girl's soccer team at their high school. He was walking by the field on his way to his car, when he just stopped to watch. I remember him telling me how great she was with the kids." He started to falter, getting a little teary-eyed, but quickly got himself back together. It had been quite a while since Jill had seen that happen.
"I think Brad gets the intellectual stuff from his Dad, who sure as hell didn't get it from me," he said, managing another little chuckle. "Rob got that from his Mom, though she didn't go very far in school. She was always interested in academic stuff, reading and politics and things like that. She was so proud when he went to Williams, especially when she realized how good a school it was."
"You get your brains from her, too," he said with a nod and a wink.
"Yea," Jill answered," but I get the sharp business side from you" she added, as they both laughed.
"But there is one thing about him," he said. "He seems anxious sometimes. To most people I'll be he looks like a guy who could conquer the world. But I can see he sometimes loses that, that confidence. It's only brief flashes, but I can sense it." He said, sympathetically.
"And I can tell you exactly why. Because of those people who raised him. Total, son-of-a-bitch bastards!" he said, raising his voice. "I'll bet he hasn't told us half the things that happened to him there. Even for a kid with all the natural confidence in the world, no one can go through that kind of upbringing and not be affected by it."
"But you know what, Jill?" he asked, not waiting for any answer. "I never see that hesitation when Mike is around. He's so calm when they're together. I can see the difference. Another thing like his Dad. When Veronica was around, he was a new man."
"I even notice that Mike pokes him sometimes. I don't think that's an accident." Jill always knew that her Dad was a sharp guy, but was continually surprised by his awareness of the subtle gestures, especially emotional ones. Growing up, she thought he was only tuned to the loudest frequencies.
"Jill, I don't get how guys like guys, I can't understand it. But I can't deny what Mike does for Brad, and what they do for each other." He looked genuinely perplexed. "They both just seem so, um, normal," he said.
"What did you expect Dad?" she paused. "Oh, forget I asked that question! Never mind!" She laughed as he smiled back.
"In fact, Mike is quite the handy guy in the woodshop," he said, referring to his own work shed in the back of the oversize garage. "You know, when those guys came over, I think I spend almost as much time with Mike out in the shop as I spent with Brad. And I've enjoyed it just as much."
"And Brad made us such good lunches, too, really tasty ones. What a chef!" he said with a laugh and not a little pride.
There was a pause in the levity, however, as Mr. Campagna collected his thoughts, not able to forget what had happened to his grandson.
"But to go back to those bastards," he said, "Jill, from all that Brad has told me, I originally thought the neglect was sort of a case of the wicked stepmother who is forced to take on some burdensome family duty, bitching and moaning all the way, but doing it anyway."
Jill could now see that he had gone from his reminiscing mode to his calculating, analytical mode, the thinking process that had made him so successful. "But there's something not right in him being hidden from us. I couldn't figure why they would do that. But when Brad told me last week that they got insurance money, well, that got me to thinking."
"Wait a minute, Dad, I'm not sure you want to go there." she said, having a vague sense of where this line of reasoning was headed.
She was incredulous, but he didn't flinch. "Maybe it was a windfall, I don't know. But maybe it wasn't so passive. Maybe they saw something they wanted and went after it."
"I don't know, Dad, that sounds kind of extreme. But there's a lot of things that don't make sense with that. For example, why keep him hidden from us?" She asked.
Getting up from his seat, he started to pace the room. "It would have been pretty obvious who the Dad was, and maybe they thought that the Dad's family could make things difficult, maybe they would demand some kind of visitation or custody or compensation that would cut into their loot", he said, with a sarcastic emphasis on the last word. "Not to mention just one more interested party who might ask some uncomfortable questions."
Jill challenged his reasoning. "That Mrs. North wasn't the most friendly person I've ever met, and not really the brightest either, but I can't picture her as such an avaricious beast," she said, not completely convinced of her own conclusion.
But Mr. Campagna wouldn't be dissuaded. "If it was only her, maybe not. Veronica was her cousin, after all, and I think that she may have had some emotional connection with her, at least at one time. But did you ever think about her husband?"
"Yes, I kind of remember him," she responded. "I have to say that he kind of gave me the creeps when I saw him that one time when we went to their funeral home. He was sort of short and quiet, but seemed to give funny, strange looks to people. I sort of thought he was paranoid. But to be honest, I had other things on my mind and didn't dwell on it."
"Well like I said earlier, Brad doesn't say much, but Mike has told me some things," he said, "and he's described some pretty interesting spending habits of Mr. North when Brad was young. Brad was just a kid at the time, but when he was growing up he saw some of the rusted hulks of a white collar spending spree by a blue collar guy."
He paused, silent again. He knew he had to be very careful. But he also knew that the possibility could not be denied. Or stated. "People have done worse things for money, Jill."
[C. M.1]In the UK this would be `lease of life' but it may have changed in the US.