Dear Readers:
I want to thank all of you who have encouraged me thus far, and I hope that you continue to find some enjoyment in the story. There are many issues in the male psyche that a work of prose touches upon. Each issue is only used as a tool to further the progression of the story, and is only for entertainment purposes.
Some readers, who have written, have commented that they felt put off by some of the descriptive narrative. Believe me, most authors write from their fantasy, and nothing is meant to be a used as a substitute to serious medical attention that should be sought.
My only answer to those of you who have questioned the narrative is to love yourself. God made each of us, and we all are perfect in His sight. Rejoice in that! It is hard enough being "gay", whatever that means, in a world that is resistant to how we are. Don't add stress to your life by being self-conscious about trivial things. The one thing that we all need to strive for is acceptance: acceptance of each other, acceptance of our differences, and most importantly, acceptance of ourselves. Love yourself! If you don't, no one will. Besides, who deserves love more?
Many of you have requested a "bio" from me, and that will be posted with the last chapter. So keep reading. LOL
As always, I want to remind you that even though Dave and Greg are not practicing safety in their sexual escapades, remember you must. We're dealing with some serious stuff out there, and if, God forbid, the world will lose some of its brightness and glitter without you.
This part is for all you guys and gals who are too young to be reading this material. LEAVE NOW! (Yeah, like what am I going to do if you don't)? If you find this subject objectionable, LEAVE NOW! And remember, this story is a creation of my overworked imagination and belongs to me. If you'd like to reproduce this in any form, please contact the author (me) for permission.
Also, any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is a compliment and should be taken as such.
Thank you,
Jay
As always, this author craves feedback. Criticism only makes me a better writer. Please respond to Jaylovenj@comcast.net. I look forward to hearing from you.
Four Become Two: Chapter 24
From Chapter 23:
"Who is Bryan Lane?" All of us turn as Rich and Betsy come into the room. "Well?"
"Bryan was one of the detectives that assisted us with Shelia and Annette," Greg answers Rich.
"Hi Rich. Hi Betsy."
"Hi everyone," they say simultaneously. "Who are you?" Rich continues.
"This is Bruce Whitaker. A friend of Greg's." We were surprised that the introduction came from Jeff.
"Oh, nice to meet you, Bruce. My wife, Betsy," he says indicating Betsy.
"Nice to meet both of you, but I wish the circumstances were different," he answers.
"So, what do you know?"
Once again, Jeff recounts the events as best he knew, filling in Rich and Betsy. "You two look like shit," Rich comments, when Jeff finishes. "And is the honey.is there honey in the kitchen?" he continues, obviously changing his train of thought in the process.
I glare at him rather openly. "I'm tried. I'm going to bed. Bruce, make yourself at home. I'm sure everyone here will make you comfortable." I head off towards my room. I soon hear footsteps behind me. I know it's Greg.
Chapter 24:
I really didn't feel like getting into this right now. All I really wanted to do was to go to bed. "Greg."
"Dave," he interrupts. We really have to talk. We can't go on this way baby.and I'm scared.
"You selfish son-of-a-bitch!" I scream, catching him totally off guard. "You're scared? What do you think about me?"
"Dave.I,,," he stumbles.
"Don't Greg. Don't." Tears are now flowing freely down my face. I had promised myself that I wasn't going to cry. "Greg? Don't you understand? This would have been easier if you would have dumped me. This would have been easier if you would have cut my heart out with a steak knife, and fed it to me." I walk to the window, looking out at the light being reflected off the water of Lake Michigan.
"Do you want Bruce?" I ask.
"No." His answer was quick and decisive, taking me aback. "I can honestly say that I don't want him. My life is with you. You, and the children, are the ones that I want to share my life with. I want to awaken each and every morning in your arms. I want to raise the children with you. I want to sit on that porch in that rocker with you, and watch our grandchildren at play."
"Then make me understand, Greg. Make me understand, please," I beg, turning to face him.
I see his face. It looks worn, like he's aged in the last few hours. He takes me by the hand, pulling me to the divan in the room. Once seated, he takes my hand. I let him. His touch still excites me.
"I wish I understood myself. Bruce was the most popular guy in my class, as I told you. He could have anything, and anyone that he wanted. People begged to be his friend, or just to be recognized by him. Our class voted him the most likely. to do anything. Anything! It was guaranteed that he would be a success. He had the proverbial silver spoon.
I was his friend only because of our parent's friendship. For everything that Bruce was, I felt I was not. I was not popular. I was the geek. I wasn't voted the most likely to do anything. Oh, the kids knew me, but it was because of my friendship with Bruce.
Whereas Bruce dated any girl he wished, I couldn't buy a date.
So, that night, that miserable night, that night I betrayed you, that night I will never be able to forgive myself for, that night, I experienced a power rush. I was seduced by power, not by Bruce.
He begged me. Me! He wanted me. He wanted to do things for my pleasure. And that power was intoxicating. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I seemed powerless."
"But you made love to him," I interject, not bothering to hide the flow of my tears.
"No! I did not, I repeat, did not make love to him. I fucked him! There was no love there. I didn't recognize myself. I was brutal. I fucked him like the slut that I wanted him to be. I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed because I didn't know that I used him, but he doesn't. He just knows that I regret every minute that I hurt you."
I couldn't speak. On some level, I didn't know Greg. And then again, I could feel the emotions he described as I watch his body wrack from the guilt.
Tentatively, I pulled him into my arms. My resolve was melting as I watched the man I love in such pain. As he laid his head upon my shoulder, I realized that forgiveness had found its way into my heart. It was a glimmer, but I knew that I was on the way back to forgiving Greg for all of this mess.
Maybe I am like those people caught up in an abusive relationship, those people who can't see the abuse because of the love. All I knew at that moment was that Greg was my world, and I couldn't force myself to separate from that world. Wives, husbands, and lovers forgive their mates everyday for relationship indiscretions; I knew I would forgive Greg.
"So, where do we go from here?" Greg asks, drying his eyes. "Do you ever think that you can forgive me? Do you even want to forgive me?"
"Yes, Greg. I can forgive you. And yes, I want to forgive you. As for where do we go? We take it slow. I've lost trust, Greg. I need to know that I can depend on you."
"You can-you can depend on me," he rushes, "and I'll do whatever it takes to get us back on track. Just tell me what I have to do."
"I can't tell you Greg. You have to know what to do. Hurt me as it did, I'm glad that you were honest enough to come to me about this.
But, know one thing-and I mean this, Greg-I will not put up with affairs. If you feel the need to sleep around, let's end this now. And if you feel the need to do this again, and act upon it, don't come home. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"You don't have to worry. Never again."
"Never say never. It's a long time." I kiss him on the lips, a quick peck, although I could tell he wanted more. "I'm going to take a shower, and climb into bed. I need some sleep" I head to the bathroom, dropping my clothes along the way.
I had started to soap up my chest when I felt the shower door open. There stood Greg, in all his magnificent glory. I had to remember to breathe. The site of him still took my breath away, and yes, there was a familiar twitch in my crotch.
"I'll.I'll wait if you want me too," he said. I held out my hand to him, and he folded into my arms.
Despite my misgivings, my dick began to get hard, and I could feel the heat from Greg as well. Pulling away from me, he took the soap, and began to rub my body. His hands felt great, and soon my dick was arching, kissing the sky.
"You have such strong muscles here," Greg says. "To get something this big and heavy pointing upward amazes me. He has been cleansing my legs and toes, all the while his hot breath is dancing on my heated phallus.
I let out a sigh of excitement. "You like that, don't you?" he says to me. "If you like that, you're going to love this." He grabs me, and begins to stroke me, running his hand up and down the length of me His soapy fingers begin to manipulate my balls, rolling them gently in his palm, sliding them through his fingers, all the while stroking me.
I could feel the tension mounting. My legs began to shake as orgasm was definitely approaching. I warn Greg that I'm there, oxymoronic since he knew my body as well as I.
My thrashing had turned me until I was now facing the spray.
"Oh fuck!" I moan, as my seed begins to travel up the tube. "OH FUCK!" I shout as Greg plunges his lips down the length of me, embedding me in his throat. I cum. I cum as I haven't in so long. Gallons and gallons had to be pouring out of me. My very existence was pouring out of me..
Greg pulls back until only the sensitive head is still on his tongue, tasting my offering. His own moans of pleasure sending tingling sensations coursing along my spurting rod.
He sucks, and sucks, getting every drop that I had to offer, sucking me until, in my horny condition, I am on my way again to hardness. No tenderness. No soreness. Only a re-igniting of my passion.
Once I'm well on my way, I feel Greg rise, his own hardness leaving a slick trail along my thigh.
"Looks like someone isn't finished," Greg says, planting kisses on my heaving chest. "Well, I have an idea about how to take care of this little problem." We finish rinsing off, and then Greg dries me, being very gentle around my cock and balls. After he is dry, he leads me, by the crotch, to the bed.
He takes me in his arms. I get weak feeling his powerful body, naked, against my own. "Dave? I want to make love to you. You noticed, I said make love, not have sex. Is that something that you'd like to do?"
My mind tells me to say 'no'. We had gone to far already. I could feel the tears in my eyes as I looked into his pools of blue. There was such desire, such wanting. I found myself shaking my head 'yes'.
A smile graces his face. The first one I'd seen in hours. I realized I needed that smile. I needed Greg to smile. His smile made my heart flutter-sing.
He laid me back on the bed, straddling my hips as he brought his lips to mine. We kiss, the kiss passionate, the desire evident. I can feel his hot hole grab the head of my dick, and he sucks me inside.
"Hey, man," Jeff says, tapping Bruce on the knee. "Why don't you go on up to bed? This chair is comfortable, but not that comfortable."
"I'm alright. Didn't plan on dozing off."
"Where is everybody?"
"I think they went up to sleep."
Jeff looks at Bruce warily before he asks, "did anyone show you to a room?"
"I was just going to call a hotel. You guys have enough people staying here, and you need to concentrate on whatever you hear about your parents."
"Those bastards! I'm sorry. Let me take you to your room. Come on!"
"That's alright, Jeff. I'll be okay."
"No! You're a friend, and friends don't stay in hotels. We have plenty of room. Besides, Dave and Greg would kill me if I let you go to a hotel."
"I don't really think that that would be a problem," Bruce answers. There is a sadness there that Jeff quickly picks up.
"Hey, man. What is the matter?"
"Jeff, thanks, but I can't tell you," Bruce responds rather surprisingly.
"Look. Nothing you tell me will ever go any farther, and I won't judge you. There are things about me that I'm not proud of too. So, if you'd like to talk about it, I'm here. No strings, or judgment, attached."
Bruce looks into Jeff's eyes for a second. In them, he sees Jeff's sincerity. He sees that Jeff is not bullshitting when he tells him that he won't judge.
"I slept with Greg, and Dave knows!" he blurts. Getting no response from Jeff, no admonition, he continues. He tells Jeff all the sordid details of their time together. Jeff nods at the admission, and ask only questions that prompt him to continue. "And before I knew what was happening, I was on the plane coming here. I really feel as if I'm intruding, but I don't know how to get out of this without angering Dave, and hurting Greg. I've hurt them so much already."
"The answer is simple. Just put it behind you. Dave has, or he shortly will. Was that what the tension was about earlier?"
"Yeah! Your other brother Rich.his comment hit a little to close to home. That's what pissed Dave off. I'm sure of it."
"Greg has a way of calming Dave down, and they love each other so much that I'm sure that they will work through it."
"Yeah! I see how they feel about each other. I had always hoped that Greg and I."
"You like him, don't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I do. But you know something?" He looks up into Jeff's eyes. "I think that I was more smitten with him.sort of in lust.than actually in love with him. To be honest, he feels more like a brother than he could ever a lover. I just wished we had not done what we did. I guess we both let the alcohol and the moment lead us. I wished we would have waited. I would have like my first time to have been with someone who wasn't my brother."
A servant appears from out of nowhere. "Mr. Jeff, there is a telephone." Jeff quickly picks up the phone.
"Hello. This is Jefferson Welsh.Mr. Lane, my brother, Dave, told me of you. Do you have any news? Oh, wonderful! Are they alright? Yes. I'll let everyone know. Give them our love, and tell them we are anxious to have them home. Thanks again. Bye!
My parents.they're okay!" Jeff says, looking to the crowded room of servants and Bruce. They are at an area hospital, but they seem to be doing well. No one was seriously hurt in the crash. The pilot did sustain a broken leg, but he's going to be okay. They should be home sometime tonight."
"Than' you, Lawd," says Sadie.
"That's great news!" Bruce says, as Jeff grabs him for a hug. Their bodies press together, and neither seems to want to separate. They only do so when they both, embarrassed, begin to feel the familiar tingle in their crotches. "Come on," he says, breaking their hold, "let's go tell the others."
Jeff knocks on Rich's door. Betsy answers, and invites us inside. Rich is putting on his shoes. The bed is unkempt, letting us know that they were either napping, or napping.
He tells them, and you can see the relief that sweeps over their face. "They should be home sometime tonight."
"Thank God!" Rich and Betsy say. "He is good," Betsy continues, pointing towards the heavens.
"Yes he is," Rich answers, giving her a hug.
"Now, maybe you can get some rest. He tossed and turned all the while we were in here," she laughs.
"Okay then, you two get some rest so that you'll be awake when they arrive."
"You get some too," Rich says. "You have been bearing this ordeal longer than we have."
"I will." Rich steps up, they embrace. Jeff looks shocked, but quickly recovers.
"Have you told Dave and Greg yet?"
"No, we're on our way there now."
"I hope everything is okay with those two. There seemed to be some tension earlier." I drop my head, but say nothing.
"They'll be okay. I guess Dave was just feeling the pressure. You know how he is. I'm sure this news will alter things." Jeff leads me down the hall to the room Greg and Dave occupy.
"Maybe I should go back downstairs," I say.
"No, please stay. The three of you have to work this out." He knocks on the door, and not waiting for a response, we walk in. We are greeted with an impressive site, a very nude Greg laying in the arms of Dave. Damn! Dave is so lucky, I think, as I give Greg a good looking over. For that matter, so is Greg, as I catch sight of Dave in all his glory. The air in the room is all masculine. It's a definite give-away as to what has occurred.
"Ahem!" Jeff clears his throat. "If you two aren't going to lock your doors, at least have the decency to cover up."
"Jeff, what the fuck! You pervert! Did you two enjoy the show?" Greg says, pulling the covers over he and Dave.
"Jefferson Randall Welsh, just because you're over twenty-five doesn't mean that I won't kick your ass."
"I did knock Davey, but if you want us to leave and not tell you the news, we will," Jeff teases.
"What news?" Greg asks, as he and Dave sit up in the bed.
"Your friend, Bryan, called," Jeff announces. "He said that they found Mom and Dad. They are okay, although the pilot suffered a broken leg in the crash. Other than bruises, they are fine, and after they are checked out, they will be coming home. They should be here some time tonight."
"Thank God," Greg says as he hugs Dave, apparent relief on their faces. It is the first smile I've seen since we arrived.
"Okay, now get out so that we can get dressed," Dave says, a smile on his face. "We'll see you downstairs."
"Dave? Greg? Before we leave, may I say something?" I ask, my voice catching in my throat. They look at me curiously. "I need to apologize."
"Bruce, you don't have to."
"Yes, I do, Greg. I owe you, and especially you, Dave, an apology. I had a long talk with Jeff, and he made me realize a few things." They both look at Jeff, then back to me as I continue. "I thought that I had feelings for you Greg. And I guess, somewhere subconsciously, I realized that you and Dave were a couple, but I didn't care. All I saw was this one opportunity to make you love me.
But, in hindsight, I realize that what we did was wrong, because it hurt Dave, and because I realize that I think of you more as a brother than a lover.
I hope that we can put this behind us, and be friends. I do wish you two well, and I want you to know that you will always have my support."
"Bruce," Dave says getting out of bed, and grabbing a robe. Man, that is one delicious looking piece he has swinging between his legs. "I want to put this behind us. I'd like to be your friend. Let me start by welcoming you to my childhood home." He extends his hand, which I grasp eagerly.
"Thanks, Dave. That's very magnanimous of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave and let you two get on with what you were." There is no graceful exit, as I'm sure the two of them read my mind as they both blush.
"How cute!" That's Jeff, noticing their blush. "Blushing at their age."
"Get out, Jefferson," Dave says, pushing us towards the door. "We'll see you downstairs."
Mom and Dad arrived home, a little bruised, but no worse for the wear, to all of our relief. There presence seemed to put everyone in a much more jovial mood, and relieve some of the stress and tension that had developed. Even Bruce and I found common ground.
I also learned that he and Jeff had found common ground, and were quite enamored with one another.
It wasn't long before things were back to normal.
"I would love to have everyone here in New York for the Fourth," Greg said one evening after we had put the children to bed. That will give everyone the chance to see the renovations to the apartment, and since we have to be in the Caribbean during the Christmas holidays for the opening of Paradise Island, that would be the perfect opportunity.
"I'd like that a lot. Let's call everyone and see what they think." We got on the phone, and soon we had commitments from all of our close family to visit for the holiday. Very happily, we drifted off to sleep."
The next day was glorious, and seeing that it was Saturday, I convinced Greg to bundle the children, and take a ride with me in the country.
"Where are we going?" he asks as we travel south along the New Jersey Turnpike.
"To someplace I think you'd like. We only have about another hour to go," I say, as we begin to cross the Delaware Memorial Bridge.
"What are you up too?" he asks, his suspicion rising.
"Now, why do I have to be up to something Greg? Could I possibly be trying to put something over on you?"
"Yes!" he smiles. "And I love you for it!"
"I love you, too. Now, sit back and enjoy the ride." I leave Interstate 95, and merge onto Route 20, heading toward Annapolis. Soon, I am pulling into the quaint town of Glen Burnie, Maryland."
"This place is so beautiful," Greg says.
"Yes, it is," I remark.
I don't stop, but head out of town. I drive about five miles, when the area starts to change. "Looks like they're putting in new roads out here," Greg remarks. Indeed the crews are busy building overpasses and roadways leading out to the shore.
I turn onto a road, and you can see that the docks are being fitted and fine-tuned. "What is this place?" Greg asks.
"This is going to be the port of Carnival, Royal Caribbean, Norwegian, and Paradise Cruise Lines. We have been in the harbor area for the last five miles. I continue traveling along the road for about two more miles, turning yet again towards a wooded area. After about three miles inland, the trees part.
Standing before us is the almost completed house that is our destination. The road ends in a circular pattern as it comes to the front door. There is a parking lot to the left of the building that is currently being paved. Nearby is what appears to be a very large building, with obvious bays, that appear to be a garage.
"What is this place?" Greg asks, as I park the van. The children have started to stir from the little nap they had taken, and are soon demanding to be released from their car seats.
"I think we need to change the children before we get out," I say, totally ignoring his question. We each take one of the children, and laying them on the air mattress we put on the floor in the back, change their diapers. We bundle them up, and exit the van.
I take Robyn, and Greg grabs Micah, and I lead them to the front door. I push open the door. There is a large foyer, with soft peach and forest green marble tiles. The smell of construction is still in the air. The walls have been painted a soft cream that compliments the tiles. A large crystal chandelier hangs in the center.
To the right is a huge room, with a slate fireplace that encompasses one wall. The exterior wall is totally made of tempered glass, giving us a dynamic view of the water, and the expansive garden currently being installed.
I lead him to a room that is definitely a bar, with a dark mahogany counter that gleams with a high polish, and compliments the chestnut-stained oak floors that we've been walking. Through the glass of three sets of patio doors can be seen a comfortable space that would one day be for smoking cigars and lounging. There was a fountain there that gently gave the room a calming effect.
We then moved on through a pantry with a built in wine cellar, and into the kitchen, gleaming in stainless steel and black tiles. A white tile floor had been installed, and it ran through the breakfast nook that overlooked the expansive deck to the rear. It was accessible to the house via the smoking and living rooms we had just seen, and it was bi-leveled to the sloped back yard and terrace that already had a built-in barbeque pit and in-ground pool, as well as a kiddie park.
I continued to lead them on to show them the formal dining room through the butler's pantry, the huge media room, the library, and the office on this level. In the media room, a door led out to a breezeway and into the garage with six bays. That was the building that we saw as we drove up. I tell Greg that there are four bedrooms, complete with a full bath in each, above the garage. Those are the servant's quarters. There was also a large room that Greg discovered was a bathroom off of the room.
I lead him downstairs, where there are four rooms and a bath. There was a theatre, a formal gym, a playroom, and another bedroom. They were of varying colors to match the rooms they served. The floors were carpeted in a soft beige color, and would feel marvelous underfoot.
As we headed up the stairs towards the second story, Greg said, "We shouldn't be doing this. We don't know who owns this place." We are standing on a landing with five steps leading to the left and the right. We head right.
"Oh, I thought I forgot something," I said as we opened the door to the master suite. I reach in my pocket, and pull out a box. I hand it to Greg.
"What's this?" he asks.
"Open it. Inside were two keys. One was obviously a car key."
He looks at me questioningly. "I know this is early, but Merry Christmas, sweetheart."
Still not understanding, I continue. "This is going to be our new home. I hope you like it, since it's yours."
"What?"
"See, you should read the history of PCL. Father is moving the company to the Baltimore area, hence, the piers being built. We're going to be sailing out of the harbor that we passed."
Still not comprehending, I go on. "We had talked about moving our family out of the city, and I fell in love with the area when we visited your parents. So, I managed to acquire this property when PCL purchased their land, and I built this house as a Christmas present for you."
"You mean."
"Yep! Welcome home! Do you like it?"
Greg looks over to see that the children are okay before he takes me in his arms. "I love it! It is a magnificent home, but how did you get it finished so soon?"
"Double shifts. I knew I was on a timetable," I say, breaking the kiss. "But there is still a little work to be done.
Greg looks around the suite. We were standing in the sitting area, and he moves on into the sleeping area. I can hear his breath catch as he once again sees the view through the wall of windows that face the bay. The only break is the doors to the balcony.
"The morning light is going to kill us," he remarks.
"No," I say, flipping a switch. The windows suddenly tint over. "We can see out, but light can't filter in.
"This bathroom is huge!" he exclaims. It is done in Greg's favorite colors, pumpkin and milk chocolate brown. There is even a mini-gym off to one side of the room, and an oversized shower with eight jets.
Across from our suite is the nursery and two other suites comprise this side of the building.
We cross the landing to find four other bedrooms on the other side, each with their own bath.
"Well?" I say. "Do you like it?"
He stands there, his back to me. "No," he says. "I LOVE IT!" he shouts, startling the children. "It's so huge!" He grabs me around the neck, toppling me to the floor, covering me with kisses and words of thanks. The children, seeing us down at their level, immediately toddle over, and soon we are all laughing and giggling as we play on the floor of the empty room.
"Oh, Mr. Welsh? I didn't know whose van that was parked outside.
"Connor," I say, as we all stop our play. Of course, that is only a brief respite for the children as they once again climb on their favorite toys. "Connor, I'd like you to meet my family: Greg Jefferson, and our children, Micah and Robyn. Greg, this is Connor Farrior. Connor is the general contractor for the property." He and Greg shake hands.
"We just finished paving the landing strip, and we should have the inspectors here on Monday. They should issue a CO by Wednesday, and you can move in when you wish."
"Connor, there's a hefty bonus for all of you. You don't know what this means to me."
"Oh, this lady came by the other day. She gave me this card. Said to tell you to call her anytime." I take the card from him. It read, Angela Perrin, Perrin Interior Designs.
"Thanks Connor."
"Did you give Mr. Jefferson."
"Call me Greg, Connor."
".Greg, the tour?"
"Yes he did. Hence, here we are on the floor," Greg laughs.
"Well, this is some Christmas present. My wife was out here, and she loved this place."
"Well, we'll have to have you over as soon as we're settled."
"Thanks, we'd like that."
"Hey, why don't we call this Ms. Perrin, and see if she can meet us soon. If we can swing it, we can have the family here for the Fourth," Greg says.
"That's why we're here today," I say, giving him a kiss. I can see Connor's wheels turn, but I also see a look of acceptance cross his face.
As it would be, Ms. Perrin was free that afternoon (I'm sure she became free when she learned who we were) and told us that she could be out in one half hour. I asked Connor to stay around to see if there might be some carpentry that needed to be done. Who better to lead the project that the contractor himself.
Ms. Perrin was prompt, and we liked her immediately, and some of the ideas she had. She had actually made some sketches on the hope that we would call. We asked her for her advice, and Greg was forceful with his input. "What we want is a home, not a museum," he stated to her. I let him take the lead, adding my input when asked. Ms. Perrin was shocked to learn that she would have a budget of $5 million to decorate. We figured that should be enough to secure the timetable that we wished.
She agreed with Greg that the living room should be done in conversation areas. We wanted a table that could accommodate up to 24 in the huge dining room that she said would have to be custom made. She would travel to Highpoint, North Carolina, to select the furniture choices that she and Greg agreed upon, and she was eager with the fabric choices and colors that Greg envisioned.
She wanted to know if we could meet her at her office on Monday where she could put all of this into the computer for us to take a virtual tour of the house. We agreed.
"Are we far from Mom and Dad's," Greg asks.
"No, do you want to go there?"
"Yeah, I'd love to tell them about my gift, and we can make phone calls to the family inviting them here."
"Connor? Is the helipad ready?"
"The helipad? We have a helipad? And did you say something about a landing strip?"
"Yes, sirs," he answers, to both our questions.
"Good. Now, is there a heliport near here?"
"Yes, sir. Near the naval base."
"Oh, yeah. I remember now." After saying our goodbyes, we climb back into the van, and head to the local airstrip, where we charter a helicopter for the trip to Dean and Penelope's. I can tell Greg is nervous as he climbs aboard the copter. The children take it is stride, and in twenty minutes, we are landing on the beach near Greg's parents house. They are certainly surprised, but delighted, as we climb out. I remind the pilot that we need him back at this location at 8:30 a.m. Monday so that we can make our meeting with Ms. Perrin.
Dean and Penelope were very surprised when the helicopter touched down not far from their home. They were a little alarmed until they saw it was us, with their grandchildren, and then Greg and I became secondary.
"That must have cost a small fortune," Dean said, when he learned of the house.
"Well, we needed a place that would hold the entire family," I piped in.
"And that's where we are enjoying the Fourth," Greg added. "It will be sort of a house warming."
"Are you sure you'll be ready?" Penelope asked.
"Well, we have this designer who actually approached us. We met with her before we flew here, and Dave let she and I design the house. It should be beautiful, mother."
"I can't wait to see it," she says.
"Neither can I." That was Dean.
The rest of the weekend was spent with us taking a back seat to the children, who were obviously the delight of their grandparents. They enjoyed spoiling them so. We did manage to contact everyone again inviting them to the new house for Independence Day, and giving them the coordinates, so that they could fly in to the property, if they desired.
Monday came all too quickly. Penelope insisted on preparing breakfast for us herself that morning.
"Why don't you leave the children here for a while, at least until you finalize things with the designer, and can move in?" she said as we sat to eat. "That way, Dave, you can close down the New York apartment, and Greg could devote his time to decorating."
"I hadn't thought of us being apart," Greg says.
"Neither had I," I answer him.
"Oh, come on you two," Dean says, "it's only for a couple of nights. Greg you have to go with the designer, and Dave you have work in New York. You both have cells if you need a fix. That's more than Penny and I had when we first were apart."
The next couple of months were a flurry of activity as carpenters, craftsmen, upholsterers, and work crews brought our home together, all under the critical eyes of Greg and Ms. Perrin. And during the first week of June, four weeks before the holiday, the movers arrived with our personal items. The New York apartment would be kept for when we were in the city.
In addition to closing the New York apartment, I was given the task of hiring the staff. I was to look for a full-time nanny, as well as a housekeeper, both of whom would be live-ins. Of course, I was seeking someone who reminded me of Sadie, and I was lucky to find Mrs. Harrington.
I also found a full-time chef. I had the recommendation of Phillip Bentley, who hired the chefs for the cruise line. He recommended a young talent by the name of Tony Williams, and after sampling his style, it was easy to bring him aboard.
At Phillip's suggestion, I contacted Robert Parker, Jr., one of the world's foremost authorities on wines, who lived not far from us in Monkton, Maryland, and had him select the wines for our wine cellar.
It was a very fast week. Time seem to move at lightning speed as we approached the holiday. Everyone had said they would come; most were anxious to see the new house.
Dusk was almost upon us when we spotted headlights coming down the drive. "That's Mom and Dad, I bet," Greg says as open the front door.
True to his belief, Dean and Penelope bounded from the car, Penelope almost before the car had come to a complete stop.
"Oh-my-God!" she exclaimed, grabbing first Greg and then me. "This place is spectacular!" The house did look grand. Connor and his crew had completed the final touches the weekend before. The lawns were perfectly manicured, fragrant flowers and shrubs framed the building, walkways, and the garden, and the trees that we left in place around the house had an underlay of thick, green sod. The electrician had discretely placed floodlights to accent the house and the landscaping features of the property.
"Isn't it beautiful, Mother?" Greg asks, beaming with joy and pride. "I still have to pinch myself just to make sure I'm not dreaming."
"Well, if this is a dream, son, don't wake up," Dean says.
"Come on in. Let us show you the place," I say, as we usher them into the house.
"Where are my grandchildren?" Penelope asks. "You didn't lose them in this place, did you?"
"No," I chuckle. "They are upstairs with the nanny, I think."
"We'll get there, Mom. May I offer you a drink?" At that moment, Mrs. Harrington, the housekeeper appears.
"Mom, Dad? I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Harrington, our housekeeper and resident mother. She doesn't let us get away with anything. You'd think she was paying us.Mrs. Harrington, these are my parents, Dean and Penelope Jefferson."
"I'm very pleased to meet the both of you. And this one here," she swats at Greg, "has a smart mouth."
"Oh, I like you," Dean says.
"Me too. I'm pleased to meet you too, Mrs. Harrington. It's good to know that there is someone who can keep these two in line." Everyone chuckles at Greg and my expense.
"I know you'll enjoy your stay here, and if there's anything you wish, just let me know. Now, I'll get someone to bring in your bags. Mr. Greg? You want them in the South Wing?"
"That's right, the first suite on the bay side, please, Mrs. Harrington."
"And we thought we'd put my parents in the one next door, and my oldest brother, Rich, in the suite across from the Jeffersons."
"What about Jeff, and Mom, is Joey going to be able to make it?" Penelope nods her head in assent.
"And don't call him Joey," she says. "You know how much he hates that."
"Well, I thought that we'd put them on our side of the house. Joe-y can have the suite next to the nursery, and Jeff can stay next to us."
"Oh wonderful, a full house. Now, you boys show your parents around."
Penelope is in awe as she takes in the view from the living room, and Dean found a home in the bar. "This looks like a real pub," he says, as Greg pours us a cocktail. "And what a great pool table. I'll have to get you guys on that later. Spank your asses!" he chuckles.
"That's the whole idea, the bar look," Greg adds. "And out there," he indicates, pointing his finger, "is a climate controlled, air purified smoking solarium, where we hearty men can enjoy a good cigar every now and then." He hooks his thumbs in some fantasy suspenders he has on.
"I could get use to a kitchen like this," Penelope says as we greet Tony Williams and the temporary staff that he's hired to help out this weekend. Wonderful, inviting smells permeate the air.
We move on to the other rooms, and once again, Penelope stops to admire the oversized, special-made dining table that can comfortably seat twenty-four. The wood has been polished to a high gloss, and Mrs. Harrington has it decorated with two wonderful arrangements of seasonal flowers sitting between three candelabras.
We then climb the grand staircase, turning right and ascending to the South Wing. Starting from the rear, we enter each suite, with it's own sitting area and private bath. Greg had done a wonderful job choosing the fabrics and colors to make each room soft and inviting.
"These rooms are bigger than our living room, dining room, and kitchen combined," Dean says as we show them their suite.
"Well, we wanted everyone to be comfortable."
"If you can't be comfortable here, you will never be comfortable," Penelope adds.
We showed them the other side, and they again admired the rooms. They noticed the balcony along the back wall and the wall of glass that was the rear of our bedroom.
"This leaves little privacy," Dean says.
"Just watch," Greg says, as the glass suddenly goes dark, putting the room in total darkness.
"Well, what will they think of next?" Dean says.
We then lead them downstairs. "Does this place never end?" Penelope exclaims, causing us to chuckle. Descending the stairs, we take Dean and Penelope into our home gym, fully loaded with the latest exercise equipment.
There is a showcase there, and we show them the model of the island project that we are doing, as well as the model of the new cruise ship that we are building, the U.S.S. Family, a ship dedicated to families and their needs. Dean and Penelope were impressed, and said that they couldn't wait to sail it. They wondered if we had any pull with the owners. We told them that we'd try.
"OK, you two," Penelope began. "You have kept me from them long enough. Where-are-my-grandchildren?" she demanded. "They weren't in the nursery."
"I'd take us there now, if I were you, guys. She looks like she need a baby fix-bad!" Dean laughs.
"Right this way, Mother," Greg says, as he opens the door across the hall.
"My babies!" Penelope exclaims. The kids jump up when they recognize the voice of Penelope, and run to her. By this time, she has dropped to the floor and is eagerly awaiting them with arms wide open.
"This is the children's playroom," we explain to Dean. "And this is Stephanie, their nanny."
A young, attractive 20-something stands, and comes towards us. "Stephanie Lawson, I'd like you to meet Dean Jefferson, and the one on the floor there playing like a little kid, is Penelope, my strange parents," Greg says.
"Very pleased to meet the both of you," Stephanie says with a laugh.
"You're a mighty young thing," Penelope remarks.
"Yes, ma'am,"
"Yes, she is Penelope. But, she has experience, and a master in early childhood development," I say.
"What do you do for a colicky baby?" Penelope asks.
"Steam," Stephanie answers. "I would turn the shower on, letting the steam build, and then stand with the child in the room until the baby's breathing became easier."
Satisfied with that answer, Penelope goes back to play with the children.
"I guess I passed," she whispers to us.
"Dinner is served," Mrs. Harrington says, coming into the room.
"Oh, just wanted you to see this room, then we'll go up. Through here," Greg says, indicating a set of double doors, is our home theatre. It seats thirty."
"Well, this is a wonderful place, son," Dean says. "I'm really proud of the both of you."
"Good, then you and Mom will visit more often," I say. Dean smiles.
"I don't think you can keep her away now," he says, pointing to his wife still on the floor.
We have a wonderful dinner, and after the children are down for the night, we enjoy conversation in the bar.
"The rest of the family will be arriving tomorrow," I say. "My parents are so looking forward to meeting you. To quote my father, we have to meet the fine people who raised someone that finally tamed you."
"I wonder what he meant by that?" Greg says.
We're only up a little while longer before we head off to bed ourselves.
Greg and I had just finished feeding Micah and Robin when Penelope and Dean came into the breakfast nook.
"Good morning, my precious ones," Penelope says.
"Hey Greg," I ask, "have you noticed how we seem to blend into the background whenever these two," I indicate the children, "are around?"
"Yeah Dave, I do. How does it feel to be invisible?"
"Alright you two, stop picking on your mother. She can't help it if she's got baby-on-the-brain," Dean teases.
They pour themselves a cup of coffee as Stephanie comes to get the children to take them for their bath. "Tell Grandma and Grandpa you'll see them after your bath," Stephanie says for them, and she hauls them up the back staircase to their room.
"So, what time will everyone start arriving?" Dean asks. Before I can answer, the patio door opens.
"Oh man, that runway is sweet. It is so nice and smooth." In walks Captain Paul, followed by my parents.
Both Greg and I go over giving them big hugs and kisses as they come into the room. "I didn't even know you had arrived. Paul, why didn't you phone ahead?"
"I did, and got landing clearance from someone here."
"Mom? Dad? I'd like for you to meet Greg's parents, Penelope and Dean Jefferson. Penelope and Dean, my Mom and Dad, Robert and Mavis Welsh. And this quirky nut is their pilot and my long-time friend, Paul Cannon."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Dad says. "Call me Bob."
"And I'm D, and this is Penny."
"I'm the only one without a nickname," Mom Mavis says, and that brings laughter all around. Soon we all are chatting away. "Where are my grands," Mavis says.
"Let me show you," Penny says, and she and mom head off in search of babies, giggling like schoolgirls. I had never heard my mother giggle-like that.
"Don't you want to see the house?" Greg calls. "Have some breakfast?"
"Later baby," my mother says. "I need to find the babies first."
"Can't you see we need.how did Dean put it.a baby-fix?" Penny answers. They both giggle again.
"Dean, do you like a good cigar?"
"Bob, you're talking my language. And I know just the place to smoke them," he says as they grab their coffee and head off towards the bar. "Come on, Paul."
Greg and I stand there dumbfounded, looking at each other. "Alone again I see," I say stepping up to Greg and enveloping him in my arms. We kiss briefly and head out to find the men.
Just as we're sitting down, there is a bellow from the foyer. "Does anyone live in this hotel?"
"Rich? Betsy?" We run to the foyer where my brother, his wife, and kids are. I grab the children in a hug as Greg greets Rich and Betsy. Soon, the whole clan is there as we all begin to exchange hugs and introductions. Mom is in heaven as she introduces Rich and his family to the Jeffersons. And Penny and she, along with Betsy, immediately begin with the children. Soon, Stephanie appears and offers to take the little ones to the playroom so that all the cousins can play. The big kids follow along.
We tried to sit once again when the patio door opens again, and in walks Scott, followed by Jeff, and Bruce.
"Man, that is a sweet runway," Scott says.
"It sure is," Paul says, walking over to shake Scott's hand.
"Hello, everyone," Jeff says as he enters the room.
"Dean, this is my other son, Jefferson," Dad says.
"Jeff," he quickly says, looking to Bob. "And this is my friend, Bruce. I invited him along, since he didn't have plans for the holidays."
"Oh, I know Bruce. He and Greg grew up together. Hi Bruce. How are your folks?"
"Mr. Jefferson, it's good to see you again. They are in Europe, so I guess they're fine. Hello, Dave."
"Hello, Bruce, welcome to our home. We're glad you could come."
We all visited a little more before the ladies return, and we give them a tour of the house, pointing out their various suites as we went. Jeff and Bruce were last, seeing as they would be in the room next to ours.
"Dave," Bruce begins, "I don't want to interfere with your holiday plans. If it would make you more comfortable, I can find a hotel somewhere."
"Why would you do something like that?" Jeff asks, coming up to us.
"Like what?" Greg asks.
"I know Greg and Dave were planning on just having family here this holiday, so I volunteered to stay at a motel."
"Look, Dave, you might as well know. Bruce and I are together. We're an item," Jeff announces. "If he leaves, I'm afraid I'll have to go also." I look at Greg, but he lowers his head.
"Jeff, I never asked Bruce to leave. He's welcomed here, just as you are. I'm glad that you two have found each other, so make yourselves at home." With that said, I walked away and into our bedroom, closing the door.
"Dave? Dave?" Greg said, coming into the room. I was standing on the balcony, looking out at the sound. I could feel him approach.
"Dave?"
"Not now, Greg.please!" I asked, more than demanded. "I.I just can't get into this right now."
"I didn't know Bruce was coming, just so you know."
"He's here, under our roof," I exclaim.
"But he's here with Jeff, not for me."
"Are you sure about that?" I ask him, turning to face him finally.
"Where is that coming from?"
"I don't know, Greg. You tell me. You slept with him." I head back into the bedroom. Greg follows.
"Yes.I did. And I felt so guilty I told you about it. It was a mistake I readily admitted. I thought that we had gotten past this."
"I thought we had too, until I see him under our roof, and down the hall from our bedroom. Tell me, is that so you two can run back and forth? Do you feel guilty about telling me, or doing what you two did?"
"Listen to yourself. You said that you were going to put Jeff there, not me. It's not my fault that he and Jeff are together. Bruce and I don't have a relationship. And to answer your other question, I feel guilty about what happened. Can't you see that you're the one that I want? Can't you see that you're the one that I want, that I need? Can't you see that you are my future?"
"I don't know Greg.I don't know where we stand anymore. Until that night, I thought that nothing could come between us. I thought that we were in this together."
"Dave? I'm afraid. I think we need to get help.professional help. We need help to get past this. What do you think?"
"What? Tell somebody all of our little secrets?"
"No-we need someone to help us deal with what's going on. There are some dark issues we need to work on: the infidelity, yes. But there's also some other issues that have come between us."
"Like what?"
"This control need that we both have. I noticed it with the way I became during renovation. I noticed it when you subdued Reynolds that day, and the way you treated Shelia. We need to work these things out, don't you think?"
"Greg."
"If you're honest with yourself, and me, you'll see that I'm right. Baby, we need help. Please!" His voice softens as he comes towards me.
I reluctantly nod my assent.