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"Echoes from a Wishing Well"
Copyright Ritchris, 2007
(Revised Copyright, 2013)
A Story
by
Ritch Christopher
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Chapter One
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Opening night of a new musical on New York City's Broadway has always been a source of excitement. The lights, the traffic, taxi horns blaring their importance, black-tie'd gentlemen escorting their ladies, each hoping to outdo the others in terms of beauty, clothing, (be it authentique or faux haute coiture), is there such a thing as faux haute coiture? Of course there is. I've seen T.J. Maxx's t.v. commercials; furs, and jewelry. They all painted a picture that could be seen nowhere else in the world...all at the same time. Only on the Great White Way could one see the crowds, inhale the scent of perfumes from around the world mixed with the godawful aroma of subway fumes rising through the grates between the curb and the sidewalks, and feel the electricity in the air---the tension, the anticipation of just being 'there' for the first public presentation of a brand new show! The amount of electrical power it took to light up the streaming, block long Broadway ads, the marquees, restaurants, and gyp joint pawn shops on B'way between W.52nd and W.42nd could probably light up the entire city of Newark, New Jersey And as if that by itself wasn't enough, the newest show was a Barnes and Barger show---the first opus creation by the famous writing team in almost fifteen years! Critics from New York and from around the world were being escorted to their designated aisle seats, some carrying pen and paper, others with cellphones or BlackBerries, each ready to give his stamp of approval on the new offering or to declare a death sentence. Barnes and Barger? Did they still have their magic or had the world of show business passed them by? Would their kind of show music still satisfy a Broadway appetite? Even a legend such as Stephen Sondheim had declared that Broadway was dead... murdered by the 'rock musical' with its mediocre monotony of tuneless songs and uninspired and repetitive lyrics.
Trent Matthews was standing in the wings between the in-one and in-two curtains as the orchestra placed their instruments in position for the conductor, Lionel Sedgwick, to give the downbeat for the overture to begin. It was opening night for the brand new blustery musical, 'Echoes From A Wishing Well', with music by Dean Barger and book and lyrics by Cyrus Barnes, directed and choreographed by Arthur Whitman. The theatre audience was buzzing as the major with a combination of exhaltation and skepticism. Not only was it opening night of a new show, it was Trent's opening night on Broadway.
The first sound he heard was the roaring swell of kettle drums, followed by a brass fanfare, then the orchestra jumped into a bouncy number, 'I Gotcha Where I Wantcha!'. Chills running up and down his spine, Trent thought he'd explode with exhilaration as the overture jumped to each number from the show. His throat was dry and he knew once the overture had finished, the curtain would raise and he would have to sing the opening solo number, 'Bob, Bob, Bob, Little Bobwhite'. He knew the score and the script backwards and forwards but, needless to say, he was scared out of his mind. It had been about five years since he'd made his debut at the age of fifteen, singing, "Send In The Clowns" for the freshman talent show at the East Weston High School in Weston, Tennessee. At that young age, how could he ever have dreamed, how could his imagination have allowed him to think that, one day, he'd star in a Broadway Show?
There's an old adage that says a person's life flashes before him as he's drowning. Trent wasn't drowning, but his entire life seemed to shoot before his eyes in fast-forward as he thought about the people in his life who wouldn't or couldn't be there in the theatre to see him at this crowning moment. His mother had died when Trent was thirteen years old and his father had grieved himself to death over the loss of his only love and had died the next year from acute melancholia. After their deaths, Trent had been sent to live with his widowed grandmother, who would always be Granny Dee to Trent, who lived her life just the way Jesus would. Beside her bed, she kept a Bible and a copy of an 1896 book by Charles Sheldon, 'In His Steps', a book which had sold over thirty million copies to Christians who lived their lives with the credo, 'What Would Jesus Do?'. Trent had strayed from that doctrine many, many years ago and he was quite sure that his Granny Dee, nor Jesus, Himself, would ever do what he had done.
Trent thought it seemed almost prophetic that he would star in a show entitled, 'Echoes From A Wishing Well', since he had drawn water from his granny's well the whole time he lived with her. When he had a penny, he would drop it down the well and make a wish and put his head down to listen to the coin drop. If it hit the water, his wish would come true, but if it hit a stone on the side of the well, he'd have to make that same wish again until it WOULD hit the water.
One hot, sunny, Tennessee summer afternoon, Granny Dee had sent Trent down the road to the one-stop 'general store' for her weekly tin of Bruton's snuff. That was the only vice Dee had and she didn't really feel it was a vice at all. There was no mention of snuff from Genesis to Revelations in her good book. She always kept a little hickory twig about three inches long in the side of her mouth while she was 'dipping'. The stick was used to stir up the tobacco that was already in her mouth and rout the rest of it out from under her lower false teeth. It was at least a two mile walk to the store and two miles back. To save his good clothes and good shoes, Trent always wore his faded overalls with a hole in each knee and he walked barefooted.
On his way, he had to pass Vernon's Pond, a good place to fish from the wooden pier or when no one else was around, a good place to go skinny-dipping. Dee didn't mind Trent taking a quick swim; he WAS a good swimmer and it was like a bonus to him for going to the store for her. He also had to go by several small farmhouses...well, the houses weren't all that small, but the land surrounding it was just big enough to raise enough vegetables to grow, pick, and can for the winter, to feed one family.
The third house on the right, halfway to the store, was inhabited by two old country gentlemen...old? Say fifty, which was old to Trent anyway...Their names? Cyrus Barnes and Dean Barger. The entire town of Weston suspected that Cyrus and Dean were queer for each other, but they kept quietly to themselves, attended church maybe three times a year, and had never been accused of molesting children. So everyone accepted them without apprehension, without fear of the two gay old men. They had few men friends and often women would stop by just to be friendly or just to get cuttings from Dean's prize roses and dahlias. For many years running, Dean's roses and dahlias had taken the blue ribbon at the County Fair, which was held each September. The few years that Dean hadn't entered the contest, the blue, red, and white ribbons were all won by ladies who had entered the flowers they had grown from cuttings from Dean's garden. So in essence, Dean won every year, just the same.
Dean and Cyrus were not native Tennesseans. Dean was from New York and Cyrus, New Jersey. Supposedly, the two had worked in show business on Broadway, but after conquering the Great White Way, both had chosen to retire early in a small town in Tennessee. Neither of them worked and were too young to receive Social Security and no one in Weston knew how much money they had between them. Little did any of the neighbors know that Dean and Cyrus had been successful song and lyric writers on Broadway...each having two Tony Awards, two New York Drama Desk Critics Awards, plus a nomination for a Pulitzer Prize!
And so, on this afternoon while Trent was skinny dipping in the pond, he began to sing out loud, 'Bali Hai will call you...'. Trent knew all the songs from 'South Pacific' as he had borrowed the complete score from his music teacher at Weston High. Trent was in rather good voice today and he segued from one Rodgers and Hammerstein tunes to the next. His favorite was 'You've Got To Be Taught' which dealt with discrimination. Trent thought how daring it must have been for Oscar Hammerstein to have written, 'you've got to be taught to be afraid of people whose eyes are oddly made and people whose skin is a different shade...'. New Yorkers and the critics must have been shocked when they first heard it.
Trent had no idea of the difference between a liberal and a conservative, but he was a die-hard left-wing bleeding-heart liberal without knowing it. Trent treated all his classmates the same...regardless of their color or of how poor or rich they were.
As he finished, 'Some Enchanted Evening', Trent heard the sound of two hands clapping and a voice exclaiming, "BRAVO". Even though his nakedness was hidden beneath the water, Trent turned around in embarrassment for the fact someone had heard him singing so loudly. He looked at the big elm tree from which the fishing pier led and saw Dean Barger with a fishing pole and a can of worms beside him.
"MR. BARGER!" Trent, all but shouted. "Did I scare all the fish away?"
"No, son...it's 'Trent', isn't it?"
"Yessir, Trent Matthews, sir."
"Your singing was wonderful."
"Thank you, sir."
"How old are you, Trent?"
"Fifteen, sir. I'll be going into my sophomore year at Weston High in the fall."
"And then what? The University of Tennessee?"
"No, sir. When I get out of high school, I want to go to New York and audition for Broadway musicals."
"You want to be a Broadway star, do you?"
"Yessir."
"I used to work on Broadway. Did you know that?"
"Only rumors, sir. Not many people know much about you and Mr. Barnes."
"You ever hear of Barnes and Barger, the song-writing team?"
"Yessir. My music teacher has a big collection of LP's. I've seen Barnes and Barger on lots of them...Oh, Criminy! Don't tell me that you two are THAT Barnes and Barger!!!"
"The very same, Trent..."
"Good grief! YOU'RE FAMOUS!"
"Well, in some circles, I guess we are..."
"Oh, gee! It's a positive honor to meet you, Mr. Barger!"
"Call me Dean, if you don't mind?"
"Are you sure YOU don't mind?"
"Quite sure."
"Maybe sometime I could come over and sing for you and Mr. Barnes...or should I call him Cyrus?"
"I think he'd be delighted if you did...and Trent, BOTH of us would love for you to come sing for us. We have a huge grand piano in the living room with lots and lots of music you could borrow."
"Gosh! I don't know what to say..."
"Well, your granny's name is 'Dee', isn't it?"
"Yes sir."
"Then get her permission first. I don't want you, OR us, getting into some kind of trouble for going behind her back."
"Oh, I don't keep no secrets from Granny Dee. Besides, if I did, God would tell her anyway."
Dean chuckled to himself at the youth's innocence and told him to go back to his singing, that he himself still had fish to catch. Trent wanted to jump up with glee at Dean's invitation, but thought it best not to reveal his nudity in front of a stranger by jumping. The biggest decision in Trent's life was now what songs to sing for Dean next. If only he could remember some of the songs Dean and Cyrus had composed together. Trent was positive there were several scores of theirs on the piano at school...but WHAT WERE THEY?
Dean cast his fishing line back into the water with his back to Trent...waiting anxiously to hear Trent's next selection. Trent wasn't singing anything so Dean called back to him over his left shoulder.
"TRENT?"
"Yessir?"
"Is your concert over?"
"No, sir, I was just trying to pick out a tune."
"Do you, by chance, know a song called 'The Beginning of the End'?"
"Sure!"
"Would you sing it, please?"
"Hey, is that one that YOU wrote Mr....I mean, Dean?"
"Cyrus and I did. I'm surprised that you know it."
"Shoot! I've been singing that one for a long time."
Dean smiled as he heard Trent raise his voice to sing, "Is this the beginning of the end or just the opposite? Did you say that we are friends or something more?..."
Trent finished the song. In spite of its bouncing tempo, the tune brought tears to Dean's eyes."
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When Trent returned home carrying Granny Dee's Bruton's, she met him at the door.
"I see your hairs been dampened. I suppose you went swimmin'?"
"Yes'm."
"Did anyone see you nekkid?"
"No, of course not, Granny. I'm always careful," Trent said, defensively.
"How about when you talked with Mr. Barger. Did HE see you nekkid?"
"No, Granny Dee, I stayed up to my waist under water while I talked with him...but how did you know I talked with him?"
"Just before you got here, his friend, Mr. Barnes, called me to say you and Mr. Barger had had a long talk down at Vernon's Pond and he asked if you and I could come eat dinner with the two of 'em, come Friday night...?"
"OH! WOW! What did you tell him?"
"I told him I'd think about it and let him know by Thursday."
"Why don't you call him NOW and tell him 'yes'?"
"I suppose you know what the people of Weston think about them, don't you?"
"Heck, I don't even know what the people of Weston think about me...being an orphan and all."
"Trent! You KNOW that you're not an orphan. You have me!"
"I know, but every other kid in school has a real mom and dad. I'm sure they think I'm strange by not having either."
"Well, you pay them no mind. It's none of their business about you havin' no mom and dad."
"Any more than it's any of their business what they think about Dean and Cyrus?"
"You call 'em by their first names?"
"Yes, Dean told me to..."
"You and he got that familiar in one afternoon? Sounds mighty strange to me."
"It isn't strange and it's not queer, if that's what you're leading up to..."
"I wasn't going to use that harsh word."
"Why not, Granny Dee? You were thinkin' it, weren't you?"
"Did you forget to go to the store for me?"
"No, ma'am, I have your snuff in my front overalls pouch."
"Then give it to me...I'm a nervous wreck for some reason."
As he dug into the pouch that fronted his bib overalls, he asked, "Granny Dee, can I ask you somethin'?"
"Might as well, boy."
"Suppose it was possible for someone to call long distance from earth to heaven?"
"Silly. The Lord don't need a telephone for someone to talk with Him."
"I'm just 'SUPPOSIN'. Would you 'suppose' with me for a minute?"
"All right! Let's suppose you could call long distance from earth to heaven. Now what?"
"Suppose Mr. Barnes or Cyrus called Jesus and asked him to come to dinner Friday night? What would Jesus do?"
"There you go turning my own words against me to suit YOUR argument."
"But what WOULD Jesus do?"
"He'd more than likely go have dinner with your Mr. Barnes and Mr. Barger."
"Then THAT makes it alright for US to go, doesn't it?"
"Lands sake! You can win arguments as well as your daddy could."
"Does that mean we're goin'?"
"I suppose so...but I don't want you going off into a private room with either of them and we'll only stay until the dishes are washed and put away...not a minute more."
"Oh, gee, THANKS, Granny Dee!", Trent said giving her a breath-stopping bear hug.
"Trent? Are you goin' to hand over my Bruton's or do I have to turn you upside down and shake it out of your overalls?"
"I'm sorry, Granny." Trent reached again into the breast pouch of his overalls and handed the small white can to her. "Does that stuff taste good?"
"You've never tried it when my back was turned?"
"No, ma'am..."
"Well, DON'T ever try it. It tastes kinda like medicine. As I said, I only use it to settle my nerves and nothing more. If I didn't stay so nervous half the time, I'd never use it at all myself."
"I don't get nervous...although I did get stage fright, just a bit, when I sang on the talent show. Do you think Bruton's would have helped me?"
"No, Trent. Stage fright and nerves are two entirely different things. One's a medical condition and the other is just temporarily emotional."
Granny Dee picked up the telephone and asked the operator to connect her with the Barnes/Barger residence while Trent looked up at her smiling. While she waited to be connected, her eyes settled on her grandson, the love of her life. She hoped his life would bring him happiness: that'd be enough for anyone.
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Friday evening just wouldn't come fast enough for Trent. He went swimming Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, hoping to find Dean sitting on the pier fishing. He only had to wait one more night and the next day until he would see Dean and meet Cyrus for the first time.
Dee ironed Trent's Sunday suit and white shirt and made him shine his brown brogans. Since it was evening, Dee decided to wear her one and only black dress which she only wore to funerals. She put her hair up in a tight bun and a bit of makeup, dabbing a drop of Prince Matchabelli perfume behind each ear. She put on her pearl earbobs and then decided to add her pearl broach at the neck opening of her dress...seamless hose and her black half-inch high-heels. Trent thought she looked absolutely beautiful, but then, in his eyes, she'd always be beautiful.
Dee still drove her husband's antique LaSalle automobile; she kept in the shape her late husband always did. She drove carefully, observing the laws, but with her at the wheel, it seemed to be a royal coach as she motored down the dusty road toward her expectant dinner hosts' home. Seated next to her, Trent kept glancing up at her with pride, knowing that she was the anchor of his world. She gave roots to his life, but for the first time in his life, Trent knew what it meant to be nervous. Would those roots be enough this evening? Singing in front of two of Broadway's greatest names? He'd considered dabbing a pinch of Granny Dee's Bruton's in his cheek before he left...but he' decided against it. He didn't know what the consequences might be if he accidentally swallowed some of it. It might poison him and, instead of being with Dean and Cyrus, he'd be at the hospital having his stomach pumped. Too late now, he thought. He swallowed hard and again looked up at Granny Dee.
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Trent and his almost aristocratic Granny Dee were greeted by Dean and Cyrus as if they were all members of the same family. The warmth of their reception melted her reserve, but Granny Dee was a bit reticent when it came to hugging and kissing strangers, but after Dean gave her a hug and a peck on her left cheek, she found that she felt like a queen and she was ready for Cyrus to follow Dean's lead. The main thing she noticed was that both gentlemen wore the same aftershave or cologne and that theirs had been applied more heavily than she ever wore her perfume.
Being cautious about serving alcohol to their guests, Cyrus had made four tumblers of refreshing limeade with just a dash of Seven-Up. Dee sipped just a smidgen and smacked her tongue to the roof of her mouth to see if it was safe for a young teenager to drink. Sensing it was all right, she took a hefty swig and nodded her approval for Trent to taste his.
"This doesn't have any of that fake gin in it, does it?" Dee asked.
"No, NON-alcoholic all the way. We have an underage drinker in our midst," Dean replied.
"When I was married to my husband, Herman, long before he died, he'd try to sneak that fake stuff into lemonade and get me to drink a glass before going to bed. HA! He couldn't fool me. When his back was turned, I used to pour the entire drink in one of my fern pots. Of course, the dang thing died after the second drink. That's when I showed him what alcohol could do to his insides IF it could kill a plant so quickly," Dee said. Her complete sincerity was obvious and had Dean and Cyrus laughing at her story.
Cyrus looked at Trent and Dean and asked, "I've GOT to ask: do I have to wait until after dinner to hear Trent sing?"
"Cyrus, I didn't want Trent to think he had to sing for his supper."
"Heck! I don't mind singing. Besides, I'd like to get a closer look at your beautiful piano."
"It's an imported Steinway, Trent," Dean said proudly. "My father's family shipped it over to him after he got settled. He was one of thousands who landed on Ellis Island after passing the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor."
"You're a foreigner?" Dee asked, a hint of suspicion crept into her voice, but was quickly erased when Dean replied, "No, I'm an American, born in New York City. And Cyrus here was born in Englewood, New Jersey, right across the Hudson River from New York."
During these comments, Trent had taken the liberty of examining the baby grand, the first Steinway he'd ever seen, let alone touched. Its gleaming wood and the ebony and ivory keyboard were possibly the most beautiful things he could imagine. "WOW! The keyboard is outstandingly gorgeous!" Trent exclaimed.
"The ivories are solid ivory...not imitation and the black keys are carved from the finest African ebony," Dean replied. "Would you mind singing just ONE song for us before dinner, Trent?"
"Shoot! I'll sing a dozen if you'd like. You...you DO play piano, don't you?"
"I'd be a terrible songwriter if I didn't," Dean replied, smiling. "What would you like to sing?"
"Can you play any songs by George Gershwin?"
"Hundreds! You name it and we'll see what we can do."
"Good! Then let's start out with something easy. How 'bout 'Someone To Watch Over Me?"
"I'd love it. Let me give you an eight bar intro." Dean played the last seven bars of the song, ending with an arpeggio. Then, after quietly clearing his throat, Trent took a deep breath, and began to sing to his Granny Dee. "There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that she turns out to be Someone To Watch Over Me..."
Dee was deeply touched by the way Trent sang to her and a tear formed in each of her eyes, but Cyrus sat mouth agape. He couldn't believe how adult and mature sounding Trent could sing. This was just no country kid from Tennessee singing--each note was true and magical, but the sincerity and feeling the young man projected touched each of them with a deep reality. This was a young man with a strong singing talent, the seeming maturity to understand what the lyrics had to say, and the God-given artistry to make all who heard him feel what the lyricist had intended. Dean's ecstatic praise to Cyrus about Trent had all been true. The boy was destined for Broadway as far as Cyrus was concerned.
Seeing that he had a captive, or captured, audience, Trent really wanted to show off his voice. From the songs of George Gershwin, he and Dean went into the Cole Porter songbook, then it was Irving Berlin, then Jerome Kern. Trent's voice got better with each new song and key change as his self-assurance grew.
After a rather lengthy but lovely performance, realizing that it was time for dinner, Dean played the intro to 'The Beginning To The End'. Trent recognized it after the third bar of the introduction and, turning to look Cyrus directly in the eyes, sang the entire song to him. Now it was Cyrus' turn to cry, to fight to get his breath. Never had he heard his and Dean's song sung so beautifully, so tenderly. Even Dean lowered his head behind the music stand to hide his misty eyes.
When Trent finished a chorus and a half of the song, Cyrus jumped up from the couch and hugged Trent as Dee looked on skeptically. "MY BOY! THAT WAS MARVELOUS! Tell me--have you had any vocal training?"
"Just from the high school teacher, Mr. Simmons. I'll be a sophomore next year but I'm not in the senior high school choir yet, however when he heard me sing in the talent show, he took me under his wing, I guess, and he's been giving me breathing exercises and lessons, showing me how to control my vibrato and hold on to notes longer at the end of a phrase."
"I'd say you have a mighty big future ahead of you. Don't you think so, Mrs. Lawson?"
"I'd agree IF he got to sing with the Billy Graham Crusade, like George Beverly Shea."
Dee's remark struck a sour note with Cyrus, but as he eyed Dean, Dean shook his head 'no' slightly, giving a small warning to Cyrus not to pursue the subject for now.
"Well, it's dinnertime. If you'll all go into the dining room, I'll see if everything is ready to be served," Dean said, quickly.
Cyrus held out his hand to Dee to help her rise from the couch and then he escorted her proudly through the sliding paneled doors leading into the dining room.
Neither Dee nor Trent had paid much attention to the furniture in the living room, although it all looked like antiques--they'd both been a little nervous in a strange house-- but they both knew the dining room was exquisite. There was a long cherry wood dining table with matching chairs, each padded with a Midwestern brocade. A huge crystal chandelier hung above the table, shedding a soft light on the service below. The plates, cups, and saucers were all edged with a solid gold motif. The glassware was antique crystal. The center of the table had a large floral decoration composed of the prize roses which were grown by Dean. Alongside the roses were several silver chafing dishes with a tiny candle underneath each one to keep the various dinner dishes warm.
Dean quickly entered the dining room from the kitchen, carrying a tray containing four dishes stacked individually, each over crushed ice. As Dean set one dish in front of each place setting, he removed the covers to reveal raw oysters on the half shell.
The only oysters Dee had ever seen were deep-fried with batter...these looked as if they had NEVER been cooked or been near a stove. In the center was a metal cup containing lemon wedges. Dee's first thought was 'How do they expect us to eat raw food...SEAFOOD to be exact?'.
Cyrus looked at Trent who was staring at the oysters and said, "Have you ever tried oysters like these?"
"No, sir. They look raw!"
"They are, Trent. They're delicacies that we have shipped to us once-a-week from Cape Cod!"
"How do I eat 'em?"
"Very simply. Squeeze a bit of lemon on one...perhaps a touch of Tabasco sauce...put it on your tongue and let it slide down your throat. They're wonderful!"
"If you say so, sir." His face and his voice retained a touch of doubt, but his heart told him what to do.
Doing what Cyrus just described to Trent was MORE than Granny Dee wanted to try. "If it's all the same to you, I...I have an allergy to seafood, so I hope you'll pardon me if I don't eat 'em," Dee said.
"I'm sorry," Dean said, embarrassed. "Had I known..."
"It's okay. You gentlemen, go ahead. Don't let me ruin your enjoyment of these delicacies."
Trent watched Dean and Cyrus closely as they ate their first oyster. He sort of got the knack of the procedure, but he still wasn't sure if he really wanted to swallow one. By the time the two hosts had eaten three apiece, Trent got the courage to try his first one.
Just as Cyrus described, the oyster slid down Trent's throat with ease. He almost laughed as it tickled his epiglottis. He had added too much hot sauce and it burned his esophagus, making him cough. This embarrassed him and he quickly grabbed the second oyster to slide down as he imagined the white rabbit sliding down the hole in 'Alice in Wonderland'.
"SAY! These are great...I mean, once you get used to them!" Trent said.
"One day or one night, Trent, we MUST let you try escargot!"
"What's that?"
"Snails in garlic butter."
"SNAILS? You mean the kind you find after a hard rain?"
"Yes, but these are cultured and quite tasty," Cyrus replied.
"Again, IF you say so. But you do eat REGULAR meat, don't you?"
Cyrus and Dean laughed out loud. Trent's total honesty erased any possible misunderstanding or offense.
"Yes, Trent. As a matter of fact, we're having roast beef as the entrée."
"Thank goodness! At least I know what roast beef tastes like AND how to eat it!"
Trent's remark brought on another laugh from Dean and Cyrus.
The roast beef and the accompanying roasted potatoes were recognizable to Trent AND to Granny Dee, who both found it delicious...although she couldn't make out what spice had been used on the beef. She thought it might be thyme or rosemary, but she KNEW thyme was only used in tomato dishes.
After dinner, the two guests were given a tour of Dean's and Cyrus' house. They showed off their awards and made Trent hold one of the Tony's in his hands, telling him that one day, he would have his very own. Trent had no idea what a Tony was until he was told it was like receiving an Oscar, but for a live performance on Broadway. THEN he was thrilled and began to dream of being given one...some day! His eyes sparkled with pictures in his mind.
Dee was almost insulted when Dean wouldn't let her wash the dinner dishes. It would have been her way of showing her appreciation for the dinner invitation. But she was mindful enough and grateful enough for the honor shown her and Trent to invite her two hosts to a Sunday dinner at her house to try her southern fried chicken. Both Cyrus and Dean accepted her invitation immediately. Somehow, the two wanted to keep Trent a part of their lives for as long as possible. There were many things either one or both of them could do to further his Broadway career. Trent was just as eager to be a part of their lives. Dee still kept her skepticism about Trent being alone with either or both of the 'unmarried' male couple, but her desire for Trent's happiness superseded all else and she seemed to feel that these men could change her grandson's life for good.
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Driving back home with Granny Dee after leaving hosts' home, Trent tried to play down the excitement this evening had engendered, but he continually found himself grinning ear to ear with a bubbling feeling of happiness---happiness for himself, for his Granny Dee, and for all the world.. Actually, he was beside himself; if asked, he'd never have been able to put into words the dreams that flashed through his head, since this night with Cyrus and Dean had been one of the best nights of his young life. He knew, however, that if he made too much over how he felt, Granny Dee might find a way of putting a quietus on his joy. He knew she'd always be on his side, but he was also aware that Granny Dee still had some reservations when it came to allowing these two older men to gain control over her innocent. Needless to say, he had a difficult time going to sleep that night. He found himself reliving the evening, heard himself again singing the sounds of Broadway. It was almost too much for him. He wanted to get out of bed and go running down the road shouting. Cyrus and Dean had planted a dream in Trent's head which had been beyond the realm of possibility only hours before...but some day, somehow, he KNEW---Trent would be a big star on Broadway!
Trent knew that Jesse Simmons, the high school music teacher was giving private lessons in the music room during the summer...both vocal and instrumental. Trent made up his mind that later today, he would go to see Mr. Simmons to tell him about his wonderful night with Barnes and Barger and go through the stacks of sheet music to look for songs that they had written. Trent wanted to be prepared with a large Barnes and Barger repertoire the next time he was given the opportunity to sing for them.
And so, shortly after breakfast, Trent set out on his expedition to the high school music room, fully hoping to spend the entire day, if he was allowed. He'd promised Granny Dee that this was the only place he'd visit and not to worry about him. She had even packed him a sandwich and an apple for his lunch. it was her simple way of wordlessly expressing her love for him and her trust in him. Not caring who heard him, Trent sang full-voiced all the way to the school...dozens of Broadway show tunes!
When he got to the parking lot, he saw Jesse Simmons' Chevrolet in the parking lot and a bicycle parked in the bike rack. Trent was relieved to know that the music teacher was inside. It had to be a good omen, he told himself. There was a door to the music room, opening directly from outside and Trent entered unannounced...only the music room was empty. He thought perhaps, Mr. Simmons had taken a break and gone to the men's room, so Trent went on to the room which housed the filing cabinets of music for the band and choir, closing the door behind him.
Mr. Simmons was well organized and kept a cardex of vocal and instrumental arrangements by song title and a cross reference to the composers. Trent scrolled down through the 'B's' and found Barnes/Barger. Trent was amazed at the titles which the song-writing team had written. There were scads of tunes that Trent knew by heart, only he wasn't aware who had written them. The list was long and Trent's excitement grew with each title. He saw a notepad and pencil on a table beside the filing cabinets and began making a list of the songs he knew and the ones he had to learn. Summer had just begun and hopefully by the time school started back in the fall, Trent would know ALL of them!
Fifteen or twenty minutes passed and Trent heard Mr. Simmons reenter the music room. Trent reached for the door knob, but stopped cold. Mr. Simmons was talking. Trent recognized his voice immediately, but he couldn't be talking to himself, could he? Then there was another voice, talking with the teacher. Well, that made sense to Trent. More than likely, it was a high school student who had come by for his summer music lesson. Rather than disturb them, Trent remained quietly in the musical library room. Maybe if the student was there for a voice lesson, Trent could learn what was being taught for free. In the meantime, Trent returned to the files of music sheets.
After a few minutes, Trent realized that he heard no voices. Had the student left? But Trent hadn't heard a 'goodbye', no sound of a door opening or closing. He moved closer to the closed door to hear better. It couldn't be a music lesson---only silence, but no one had left? He guessed that five or maybe ten minutes had passed and no talking, no singing, and no sound of a musical instrument.
Carefully and cautiously, Trent cracked the door about half an inch to see what Mr. Simmons and the student were doing...breathing exercises, perhaps? That would explain the silence. Trent could only peek with one eye through the narrow opening, but what he saw was unbelievable and caused Trent's jaw to drop and his eyes to widen at the view.
Trent recognized the student at once--the marching band captain, Farley Adams, who was a senior and eighteen years old. Farley was sitting on the edge of Mr. Simmons desk, his pants lowered to his ankles. Mr. Simmons was seated at his desk, his face buried in Farley's naked crotch. He was giving Farley a blow job!
Suddenly, Trent was more scared than ever before in his life. He didn't come to spy on anyone, but found himself an unwilling witness to the act being performed. He wanted to ease the door closed, but somehow he was unable to take his eyes off the action at the desk. Questions burst into his mind---were Mr. Simmons and Farley Adams queers? He'd heard of such folk, but what to do? How could he escape this moment? Trent wished he could become an insect and just fly out the window, unseen and unnoticed, and disappear. What if they knew he was watching? How long could he stay in the library without being noticed?
Trent knew that any sound he made would lead to his being discovered and would cause a great deal of embarrassment for all three of them. Looking through the crack again, he saw that Farley was leaning back on his hands, his head tilted back and he was grunting as if he were in pain except that the grunts coincided with Mr. Simmons head movements, bobbing faster and faster On Farley's crotch and Trent knew that Farley would soon be in the throes of an orgasm. Suddenly, without a warning, Trent realized that he, too, was sexually excited. His penis was as hard as a wooden clave and was tenting his overalls four or five inches from his body.
Trent already knew about solo sex, although he had told NO ONE about his experimentations at night in his bed. Trent had been reaching climaxes for months and hopefully had kept that knowledge from his granny. However, it never occurred to Trent in his wildest fantasies that someone could help someone else to achieve an orgasm...especially with one's mouth! Was Farley in pain or had he enjoyed what Mr. Simmons had been doing to him? Then, too, how could Mr. Simmons even THINK about putting a penis in his mouth. The idea was disgusting and revolting to Trent but at the same time, the exhilaration he felt at what they were doing was unfathomable to him.
Trent couldn't seem to control his own urge. He put his hand down the side opening of his overalls and grabbed his penis. Again, wearing his overalls, Trent hadn't bothered to put on underwear. Not even being aware of what he was doing, Trent began to stroke himself.
Suddenly, Trent heard Farley shout, "I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!" and Mr. Simmons leaned forward to put ALL of Farley's penis as far as he could in his mouth and Farley screamed, "OHHHH!". That's when Trent realized that he had climaxed at the same time as Farley. His semen had shot on the inside of his overalls and was running down his leg. Trent had never ejaculated this much...EVER! However he didn't make a sound although he wanted to scream as loudly as Farley.
Mr. Simmons kept his mouth on Farley a minute or two longer, draining the boy, then with his right hand, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box of tissues. Taking two or three from the box, he used them to wipe Farley's penis, then wiped his own lips, and looking up at Farley, he smiled and asked, "How was that?"
"It was GREAT!" Farley replied.
"You really shot a load that time!" Mr. Simmons said. "Especially for a young man!"
"Well, heck, it's been almost a week since you did me last time!" Farley exclaimed.
"Then maybe we should start meeting TWICE a week?"
"Whatever you say, sir...you're the teacher!"
"Wanna come back to see me on Friday?" Mr. Simmons asked.
"BOY! DO I!"
"Good. Now remember, THIS must never be known by anyone but the two of us..."
"Shoot! I wouldn't tell anyone even if I could."
"I'm trusting you, Farley. You know we BOTH could get into a lot of trouble!"
"You don't need to worry. NO ONE will ever find out from me!"
"Fine! Now run along. I have a lesson to give in about half an hour, so why don't you scoot out of here!"
Farley eased himself off the desk, pulled up his trousers, buckled his belt, and went out the door. When Mr. Simmons saw Farley leave, he retrieved the soiled tissues from the waste basket and, holding them to his nose, inhaled deeply before throwing them away again. Then, turning, he adjusted his own clothing and he left the music room, walking down the hall to the men's room to gargle with some mouth wash.
Trent realized that his wish was granted, that THIS was his chance to escape. As he moved from his hiding place, he found that his overalls and his hand were sticky and he had no way to clean himself. He decided his best bet was to go by Vernon's Pond and take a dip to wash himself AND his overalls.
Quietly opening the library door, he tiptoed across the music room to the door leading outside, opened it carefully, exited and closed the door as silently as he could.. He didn't skip or sing down the road this time. Trent ran to Vernon's pond. He saw no one, thank heavens, and he slipped out of his overalls, stripped to his bare skin and waded into the water, taking his overalls with him. He swam out about twenty feet to where he could still touch the bottom of the pond and began washing his private parts. He then scrubbed the soiled section of his overalls until they felt clean and he had started to wade out of the water when he saw Farley Adams ride up on his bicycle.
"Hey, Trent!" Farley shouted. "How's the water?"
"Cold...but it feels good."
"Mind if I join you?"
"I was just about ready to leave." Trent said.
"Ah, stay a while."
"I really should be getting home." If he stayed, what could Trent say to Farley after what had just occurred?
Farley noticed the clothes in Trent's hand.
"You didn't go in the water with your overalls on, did you?" he asked laughing.
"Yeah, I did. I had an accident..." Trent lied.
"Wet fart?"
"NO. I...I was walking down the road and this big blue jay came flying over my head and dropped bird do-do on my overalls."
Farley laughed. "Couldn't you take 'em home and let your Granny Dee wash 'em?"
"I suppose, but I...I didn't want the do-do to dry."
"I guess you're right. Shit smells like shit no matter where it comes from..."
"Where have you been, Farley?" Trent asked, daring to see if Farley would lie.
"I...I had to go to the store for my mom."
Trent decided he would make Farley squirm just a bit. "I...I thought I saw your bike over at the high school a little while ago..."
"Oh, yeah...I...I wanted to talk to Mr. Simmons about new band uniforms if the school could afford them..."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, he said there wasn't enough money in the budget to buy 'em this year...maybe next year! Did you have to go to the high school for anything or were you just passing by?"
"I...I stopped by. I didn't go inside. I just sorta peeked in the window..."
Farley's face turned white as a sheet. "Uh...did you see Mr. Simmons...?"
"Only from a distance. He was working at his desk...doing somethin'..."
Farley was a head taller than Trent and twice as strong. Without expecting it, Trent saw Farley's face go red with embarrassment and anger. Without thinking of his own clothes, Farley charged, coming at him in the water. He put his hand around Trent's neck and squeezed it tightly, pulling Trent out of the water. Thinking of his nakedness, Trent used his wet overalls to cover up his privates.
"All right, you little peeping Tom! What did you see?" Farley said, angrily.
"Ouch! You're hurting my neck!" Trent said, wincing from the pain.
"I'm gonna hurt more than your neck if you don't tell me the truth. WHAT DID YOU SEE, TRENT!"
"STOP IT, FARLEY! I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING! What was there to see?!"
"You saw me and Mr. Simmons together, didn't you?"
"OW! I told you I didn't see anything!"
"You're lying, Trent! Now tell me the truth!!!"
"OKAY! If you let me go, I'll tell you everything!"
Farley released Trent's neck, but pushed him down on the ground, standing over him.
"TELL ME!"
"If I do, will you promise NOT to hurt me?"
"It depends on what you say..."
"All right! I lied. I didn't peek in the window. I was in the music library room and I heard the two of you in the music room, so I cracked the door and saw you sitting on Mr. Simmons desk without your..."
"OH, SHIT!"
"I won't say anything, Farley! I promise!"
"I don't know whether to drown you or cut your tongue out!"
"Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean to see anything!"
"NO? And you saw EVERYTHING, didn't you?"
"Yeah! But I CAN keep a secret...HONEST!"
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You have to believe me! That's all I can say!"
"What do you think would happen if I told your Granny Dee that I saw YOU sitting on Mr. Simmons desk and he was doing to you what he was doing to me?"
"Oh, my gosh! She'd kill me!"
"Then what do you think my dad would do to me if YOU told? What do you think my dad would do to Mr. Simmons?"
"Nothing'll happen, Farley, I won't tell anyone."
"You've got me over a barrel, Trent, and I don't like it!"
"What can I do to convince you?"
"I don't know..." the rough said. Then his eyes narrowed as he continued," but maybe if YOU did to me what Mr. Simmons did, that would be one way to guarantee your silence."
"You mean---put your thing in my mouth like he did?"
"Yeah..."
"I won't do it!"
"You'll do it or you'll drown. Now take your choice!"
"I won't do it and I WON'T drown. I'm too good a swimmer!"
"You can't swim if I hold your head under the water..."
"Farley? Can't you just take my word that I won't tell anyone and let me go?"
"NO! Not on your life...or MINE either!"
"What if someone sees us?"
"They'll be seeing YOU pleasuring me. You'll be the one who gets the bad rap!"
"Will you let me, at least, put my wet clothes on? I don't want to be caught nekkid with you standin' over me."
"Sure, but then you gotta give me a blow job!"
This was the second time in one day that Trent wished he could die or disappear. Last night had been so terrific and today was turning out to be one of the worst days of Trent's life. He stood up and put one leg at a time in the jeans, moving as slowly as possible since the material wouldn't go on his bare skin very easily while it was still soaking wet. He fumbled with the buttons on either side of the waist and took even longer fastening the two shoulder straps onto the bib.
"Damn! It takes you a long time to get dressed," Farley said. "It's a wonder your Granny doesn't have to dress you every morning before you go to school. Otherwise, you'd be late for your first class."
"I'm doin' the best I can, considering how wet these are."
"Bullshit! You're just stallin' for time. Have you ever sucked a dick before?"
"NO!" Trent said, emphatically.
"Well, the thing to remember is DON'T use your teeth. You bite me and I'll knock YOUR teeth out!" Farley thought for a second and continued, "Hell, that might be a good idea. If you had no front teeth, you'd give one hell of a good blow job!."
"Well, don't go considerin' knockin' out my front teeth or I WILL bite your dick off! HA! HA! Then, you'd have to squat like a girl to pee."
"Shut the fuck up, Trent, and come over here and unzip my jeans!"
Trent had his overalls on now and stood up and walked toward Farley as slowly as a convicted prisoner on his way to the electric chair.
"You wanna do it right out here in the open?" Trent asked.
"No, I guess behind that tree over there would be better."
Trent's first instinct was to make a run for it, but he didn't know how fast Farley could run. Before he got his chance to escape, Trent felt Farley's hand clamped once again on the back of his neck. Farley began forcing Trent toward the big tree by the wooden pier. Trent could offer no resistance. He just wanted to get the dirty act over with and go home. When the two boys got within three feet of the tree trunk, Trent heard a voice from heaven. Well, it wasn't heaven, really, but it was coming toward the tree.
"Yo, Trent!"
Farley froze and let Trent's neck loose.
"DEAN?"
"Hi there, youngster!" Dean said, coming to the pier with cane pole and fishing worm can in his hands.
"Goin' fishin'?" Trent called to him.
"I thought I'd catch a few bream for supper IF they're biting. Oh, I see you have a young friend with you."
"Yes sir. This is Farley Adams. He's the band captain of Weston High's marching band."
"Glad to meet you, Farley. I'm Dean Barger. I live just over that ridge."
"I know who you are...and I know all about you," Farley sneered.
"Well, in that case, we don't have to do much more than to introduce ourselves to each other, do we?"
"Farley, don't you think your mother will be wondering why you haven't brought her groceries to her yet?" Trent said, over articulating each word purposely.
"Huh?"
"The store! You said you had to go pick up some stuff for supper tonight!" Trent replied.
"Huh? Oh THAT! Oh, YEAH!" Farley said. "Yeah, well, I guess I'd better get on down to the store. BUT on that other matter we were talking about, I'll call you tonight, Trent, to reschedule our meeting."
"Good! I'll be expecting your call..." Trent said, smiling.
Farley gave a gruff look to Trent, another sneer toward Dean, then got on his bicycle and rode down the road toward the store. Dean and Trent stood silently until Farley was out of sight.
"Is Farley a good friend of yours, Trent?"
"Not really, Dean."
"I didn't think so."
"Want me to sit with you while you fish?"
"I'm not going fishing, Trent. I was sitting on my front porch with my binoculars, doing some bird watching and I happened to see Farley with his hand clamped at the back of your neck. You didn't seem to be enjoying it...especially since you were nude. I was afraid you might be in some kind of trouble, so I set down my binoculars and grabbed my fishing pole and worm can and came over here to see if you were all right!"
"You're not aware of it, Dean, but you might have just saved my life."
"Was Farley trying to get you to do something you didn't want to do?"
"Boy, you can say THAT again!"
"Was it...was it something of a sexual nature?"
"Well...yeah."
"And you don't do that sort of thing?"
"Never have and never will."
"That's what I thought, Trent! I wish you had run over toward our place."
"I thought about it!"
"Trent, I want you to know something that I don't want you to ever forget."
"What's that?"
"If EVER you find yourself in trouble or need some help, Cyrus and I will be there for you. We'll protect you, if possible."
"Thanks, Dean. That means a lot. I...Well, there are some things I just can't go to Granny Dee about. Every friend I have in school has a daddy...except me...and I...well, I don't have a man in my life to talk to about certain things."
"Well, why don't we put it this way---up until yesterday you didn't have a man in your life...but after last night. you have TWO men in your life. Neither of us has ever been a father, but we can certainly try to be the next best thing!"
"You mean that, don't you?"
"Heart and soul! So does Cyrus!"
Trent gave Dean a warm smile, thought a minute and changed the subject. "'Heart and Soul' that's what everybody learns to play on the piano. Did you know it has words to it?"
"I surely do. Hoagy Carmichael wrote the music and Frank Loesser wrote the words."
"WAIT! WAIT! Don't tell me!" Trent exclaimed. "Hoagy Carmichael wrote 'Stardust',"Cow, Cow Boogie", and 'Old Buttermilk Sky'...and Frank Loesser...let me think a minute. Oh, I know! He wrote the Broadway musical, 'Guys and Dolls'! and I know a popular song of his, 'Slow Boat To China!"
"WONDERFUL, TRENT! Do you know the lyrics to 'Heart and Soul'?"
"Sure," Trent cleared his throat and began to sing, "Heart and Soul, I fell in love with you, Heart and soul, the way a fool would do..."
Dean joined Trent on the next word of the song as they both slurred down, "GLAAADDDLLY. Because you held me tight and stole a kiss in the moonlight..."
Dean put his arm around Trent's shoulder and the two sang the entire song on their way to Dean and Cyrus house, finishing it on Dean's baby grand piano where they continued, playing a piano duet.
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(To be continued in "Echoes From A Wishing Well", chapter two, ASAP.)
(author's note: I began this story five years ago and never finished it. During this time, I lost the last three blood relatives, even my two Labrador Retrievers died. Since last June, I've been fighting throat cancer. My team of doctors have told me that I'm cancer-free now, but what do they REALLY know. I've revised the plot and I'll finish this story if it's the last thing I do. Enjoy!)