Harvard Comes To Montana

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Thirty

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

Hey, Buds;

What a good bunch of men you are. I like that we've met over this story, and I hope we know each other a long time. Thanks for encouraging me to reach Chapter 30.

Not much of a rambling preamble this time. You might be happy with that; I can think of a couple of `em that seemed longer than the chapter itself.

I hope your week is going well; be good to animals, to little kids and old people, but first of all: take care of Number One.

Griz

Here's the last bit of Twenty-Nine, in case you want some refreshin':

"My week was not the typical `glass half-full of water or half-empty'. My glass was entirely full; of Justice and Injustice, balanced and, fortunately, coming to an end. My family and I got through this week together. None of us navigated our lives alone. We had each other for pizza together and at the top of our phones' Contacts when distant. We were in the month of August, but by no means any of us in our august years.

There was so more growth to enjoy and endure together; with discoveries, challenges and disappointments, no doubt. Perhaps I'd feel myself age out of my youth each week that followed that one. I hoped, if true, that I'd learned something, shared something, was my best for my growing family, and took notice of as much as possible. If I could manage that for a sick little cow, then maybe I could just be awake and aware for all of my farm, my continued education, my family and----because he deserves this, just for him----Marc."

*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***

We two of the boy members of Team W parked our trucks at the long barn's wall on Farm W. What a beautiful night.

"Marc, I'm gonna wash up and check on Lola Cola and brood."

"Ahhh----she might lick your fingers right off your hand, smelling pizza on them."

"Heh.....you're right. Another reason to wash up first."

We smiled at each other and walked into the bathroom by the north end door of the barn. Damn.....someone cleaned up in here today. Note to Self: next time is your time. For my entire Iife, or at least since I could pee upright on my own, I have gone out of my way to avoid using clean towels after washing my hands. Yes, I KNOW that they're there for their express purpose, but someone else can muss `em up first!

Sheesh.....of all the pathologies to have, the reticence of using clean towels first is either a very big one or a very small one. I'd like to say I got over it at that moment, but.....I waited for Marc to dry his hands first. Ahhh.....see? It's true. You never have to wait long for someone to do the right thing, whether they realize it or not.

We walked the one hundred feet in length of the old barn, hearing the wind through the rafters that came in the north end and left through the south end, as well as through some holes along the way. Marc was walking ahead of me, and the wind lifted the hem of his polo shirt in back. Even in the dim light, I could see some of the dark brown hair on his ass, creeping up above the low, hip-slung jeans belt line to say hi to me. As if I forgot it was there. I could forget many things; the precise minutiae that defined Open Systems and Closed Systems and Isolated Systems in the Second Law of Thermodynamics, for example.....if I ever knew it, or learned it just for the Physics final my senior year.

I also could also remember many things: my second birthday, for example. But I can and will always remember the important things, and one of em was that Marc possessed a perfectly-shaped and furry ass. I doubt it'll ever be the answer for a question of any of my college exams, but if so.....well, my somewhat Rainman' nature could write down just how many hairs there were, counted countless times by my tongue, `Count Lickula'.

The Unholy Triumvirate of Love, Lust and I followed behind Marc while we walked to the other end of the barn. There were seven other stalls, none of them really used now, from a time when more horses and men than machines worked the fields on Farm W. There was some life in the barn still, but once Lola Cola and the pups are gone, left lonesome and behind will be Lightning Bolt, Stanley Cup, the ever aloof and aloft Barn Owl and, of course, Old Cat.

O.C., what will you do to occupy twenty-four hours without thirteen charges to guard with your life? I couldn't see him being content to going back to a life of mousing and sleeping. I knew Lola Cola wasn't going anywhere, and if Aleksy really did find another dame to go with the sire from Bozeman he was about to get, there was future opportunity for O.C. on Farm W. I promise, you fearless feline; duck hearts. Just watch the kids.

Lola Cola was awake but relaxed when we walked up to her stall. I looked up to see where Barni typically roosted, but she'd already gone out hunting. Mama Dog looked content, but oh, damn.....those ten distended nipples, sucked almost completely off of her body by milk-insatiable puppies. If they weren't eating, they were sleeping. I rubbed Lola Cola's head and scritched gently from between her eyes right down to her cold, wet nose. I wondered if it was unique to large, black animals on our farm, or if all large, black animals like that same attention. She put her nose right on Little Guy and looked up at me.

"Thank you, Mama Dog."

I picked him up gently and both Marc and I sat on a straw bale. O.C. wasted no time jumping up on the bale, walking across Marc's thighs to between my own, sniffing Little Guy. Once he saw that all remained well for the tiny but growing pup, he settled himself down on the bale next to us, keeping his eyes on the dogs and us. Lola Cola panted and whomped her tail on the straw-covered stall. A signal, I suspected. Marc stood and moved the bale back so Lola Cola of the Order of the Full Bowels and Bladder could go commune with Nature at the side of the barn.

Marc sat back down beside me. Lola Cola might take thirty seconds or three minutes before returning. I was sure she had her nose turned West into breeze, picking up the aromas of cherry blossoms and Canadian Pines and ten thousand other scents our human noses could not longer discern, and generously sending some of her own across the pastures and fields and Cottonwood Creek to the dogs on the Tuss and Sanger operations. What the dogs there would make of thirteen distinct smells of the same breed, I could only imagine.

"Hey! I smell.....hmmm.....I think it's a Bernese.....yes, definitely a Bernese....."

"And I smell a cat, and it has the scent of the Bernese on it! How is that possible?! Did the cat eat the Bernese?!? That would be an all-you-can-eat buffet, for days! AVENGE THE BERNESE!"

"Tomorrow. I'm tired."

"You are no patriot. I hope you can sleep with that."

Lola Cola again comfortable, she returned to her stall. She just looked at Marc and me and woofed once. Her wagging tail imitated quite well a windshield wiper, clearing the straw from the barn floor behind her. She held out a paw and extended it toward us. So many ways to interpret that, and I didn't know where to start. Marc looked at her and then me.

"Um, I'm no expert on canine psychology, but I suspect she's getting cabin fever. A `run out back' is not exactly stretching a long dog's long legs."

"Ooohhhh.....do you mean she wants a `w-a-l-k'?"

"I certainly would, particularly since her pups just sleep and grow when they're not eating. The net on the stall and the constant tabby guardian here all but prevent tragedy during a short.....one of those things you spelled correctly."

"Marc, I think you're right. Sheesh.....I wonder if Aleksy has been taking her on w-a-l-k-s. Lola Cola, do you want to go for a short walk?"

"WOOFBARKWOOFWOOFWOOFBARKBARK!!!"

As if that weren't enough confirmation, she spun around in a creative, interpretive dance, her X and Y axes vying for the biggest number achieved. The walk was going to be as far as the full Moon and the yard light would guide us, and then back. Friday would give us plenty of opportunity to let her explore more of her new farm home. Lola Cola's collar was still around her neck, and the D-ring on it was large enough that I could attach a horse halter lead to it. Marc refastened the net on the stall and admonished Old Cat to take care of the barn until we got back. Oh, Marc.....are you becoming a farmer? You're talking to a cat about a barn and puppies.

Lola Cola was still bouncing around as we walked the distance of the barn to the other big door. Okay, okay, Ginger Rogers! We get it! Marc walked with us. He was right beside me, and took my hand in his.

"Can you multi-task? Walk the dog and the boyfriend?"

"My skills are legion. You'll see. In seventy years, you probably won't even remember half of them."

"In seventy years, I'll be right on 100 years. Probably be dead. YOU will still be a spry Spring Chicken of 89."

I stopped for a moment. Lola Cola had found something of paramount importance to sniff. I turned to Marc, stepping close to him. With my now-released hand, I moved it to the back of his head and pulled his forehead to mine. We stayed silent like that. I heard crickets and toads, saw bats flying around going after the insects, and felt the breeze enveloping us in its own hug. Marc spoke low and soft, his voice the soothing, reassuring balm my ears loved hearing.

"Seventy years is a long time away. I'll give you memories and you'll give me some, for as long as we have together. I like your `distant future' mind. Can I be kinda sappy with you for a moment?"

"Can I deny you anything? This is the perfect place and time of night for Sappy, Boyfriend."

"My future, up until two weeks ago, was classrooms, students and lesson plans. Each new day was empty of anything but more of The Same. I think, really, if I got right down to it, I was happier living and working in the Past, because I never liked the Present I was in, and resigned myself to a Future of more Presents. Jozef, there are some things I need to talk with you about. I've hinted at it a few times, but I am now insistent.

This can't wait any longer. You're a wonderful man, like no one I've ever met, and I judge all men against my Grampy. You deserve the best of everything; farming success, education, family and security, and a boyfriend who will always tell you the truth when he's telling you like it is. That whole `Honesty and Candor' thing again. Please, Babe. Find time or make time."

Oh. Suddenly the crickets and toads were gone, and all I could hear was my heart pounding at an increasing pace. My insecurities took flight under that full Moon. Marc sensed something was up. Maybe it was my hand on the back of his neck. Perhaps he felt me tense. He placed a hand flat on my chest and shook it back and forth gently.

"Are you breathing, Babe?"

"Oh. Uh, yes."

"I scared you. I am scaring you."

"`Scaring'? Maybe. A little. I don't know, other than some of those pesky demons you saw in Billings are up in traffic with the bats just now. That's not you. I own that."

"What I meant by finding or making time....."

"Was you and I need to talk, sooner is better than later, and it's maybe time for me to grow up a little."

Marc laughed and wiggled his palm against my chest again. The gesture was so intimate at that moment. I wanted his hand to reach into my chest and make my heart stop bouncing around like Lola Cola was in the barn a few minutes before then. I moved my hand from Marc's neck and covered his hand with mine. I was deliberate. This gesture was firm.

"Babe, I can feel this is causing you some stress and anxiety. Right in there. Listen to me, Jozef. You are already light years beyond your age. You've been grown up from the moment you opened your first book and rode your first horse. Remember when I told you in Billings that I have to work hard just to keep up with you? Yeah. Meant it. You're just fine. Be assured of one thing: if you were just another teenager who needed to grow up a little like the freshman in my classes, I would not be here right now; I'd be back with them. They and I, we, are together for one semester only, and if I'm lucky, I never see them again.

With you, Babe, I think I'm lucky if I see you at least a few times every day-----particularly if it's first thing in a day. I have spent so much of my life looking back and studying Time that I don't have one of your legion of skills----looking forward and seeing some amazing possibilities. I don't doubt for a second that you and I, maybe with some advances in Science and Medicine, can see seventy years together and beyond. But we're only two weeks in, Babe. And I need to talk with you."

There was nothing I could say, or should say, but one response.

"Then we will talk."

"There's a reason I'm going to ask this. Something I need you to see.....again. I'd like very much to talk in our home in town, Jozef"

"What's a twenty-minute drive, if it'll help get us to seventy years?"

"Hmmm.....you come up with some good stuff. I like that. The only Friday I've known with you was the last one, at the rodeo and fairgrounds. Do you think you could get time off tomorrow evening?"

"Get' time off? I confer time off. Of course. There was no part of I will always have time for you, and if I don't have time, I will make time' that wasn't meant entirely and sincerely."

Our hands were still together, pressed to my chest, massaging its pace back to reasonable and unthreatening beats per minute. I looked from Marc down to our feet to see Lola Cola sitting patiently, peering off in the dark distance at who-knows-what. One of the reasons I love the Bernese so much is for how pack-centric they are. That was a good example of why, by comparison, I loved Lola Cola and her family so much. If my big brother had brought home a Dachshund or Chihuahua, I myself would've fed either to Barn Owl upon arrival.

Okay, so, you know me and animals----even the yappy annoying ones----we'll always will be tight.

I smiled at Marc and released my hold on his hand, which remained against my chest. Fine. Stay there. Maybe I like it. (I really liked it.) My hand went to the perfectly round ass I told you about earlier. I'd say I gently squeezed it', but there is no gently' anything about Marc's ass. He wouldn't even feel `gently' through all that glute. I pulled him closer, and without even a moment's hesitation, our lips found each other's, and the time for talking was over. I know I talk a lot about kissing with Marc, but it's sincerely the best thing since ever. And to think I acted all pure and innocent when he and I met, and refused a kiss. If I knew then what I know now.....

.....well, I still would've waited. Good things come to those who wait. I was born to define that phrase. I waited to be with the right man to give my cherry to him. I waited to kiss him. And we would wait until tomorrow evening for a discussion which, I felt reassured now, was not about me as much as it was about Marc. But no doubt it was about us, in some way. One aspect of this moment, though, was Marc's insistence that no more time toward seventy years together would pass before we talked.

I found myself liking his insistence. He was resolute and polite in getting his point made. The combined diplomatic abilities would've made him a positive force for the school district. I wondered if Mademoiselle Dauphine, Mike MacWorter and Mrs Heusen started drinking yesterday afternoon, and if they've stopped yet. It would've been the logical conclusion to that school board meeting-slash-interview.

And oh, crap. Speaking of talking, Mom said she wanted to talk with me and Aleksy this evening. I explained that to Marc, and we headed back to the barnyard.

"Babe, go ahead on in. I'll take care of Lola Cola."

"Thanks. And Marc.....thanks. For this evening together."

"You never have to thank me for doing something that was my idea in the first place. I'll say this: going for a walk with her, particularly while there's still light in the sky, would be time well spent. So.....you don't know exactly what the conversation with Marie and Aleksy will be, I take it. If it would be better, I can go back to town so you have the whole house to yourselves."

"No, Eva is home, too. I don't know what is going on. Please stay, Marc. If it gets late, I'll be quiet so I don't wake you when I come in."

"If only I were that deep of a sleeper! Still, I'll see you when I see you."

"And I'll thank my lucky stars when I see you, Marc."

One more kiss and Marc walked Lola Cola back to the south end of the barn. I'm glad she got at least a little walk, and I agreed with Marc: walking her more often and earlier would hurt none of us. Hmmm.....I wonder if Sebastian would get even more jealous if he saw us out walking the other big, black beast on the farm----but not him. Yeah, well, I know from lots of experience landing on my ass during a rousing game of tag with him that just plain `walking' would result in Sebby yawning from boredom.

I walked into the house to find Mom and Aleksy at the kitchen table. The only light on in the entire house appeared to be the one above it, and I think the dimmer switch had the brightness down somewhat. Both acknowledged me with slight smiles. Mom pulled a chair next to her away from the table. She would be in the center and her boys on either side.

"Is Marc staying in tonight?"

"He is. He's getting Lola Cola put to bed. He's coming in and going right up."

Mom looked at me and then Aleksy.

"Aleksy, is Eva up there sleeping?"

"Nope. She's on her iPad, researching pizza ovens."

"Marc will be doing the same thing, but for his new book."

"Okay, Boys.....listen to me. What I need to talk about is a family discussion, and Eva and Marc are family. I'd very much like them to be here. It'll be a brief conversation."

Aleksy stood, pushing his chair back.

"I'll go check on her. If she's asleep, though....."

"She stays asleep. That poor woman. She was anxious the entire day, screwing up drinks left and right. Eva needs rest. But if awake....thirty minutes."

While my brother went upstairs, Marc walked in from the barnyard. He turned to lock the kitchen door. Mom motioned for him to join at the table. Marc sat next to me. Footsteps down the stairs indicated Eva would join us, too. She was smiling in a way I'd come to realize she was working on something for `Common Grounds'. Analytical, planning, programming people are known for expressions on their faces, even while smiling, that said the work was a process, even if only they knew what was going on.

Eva and Aleksy sat across from Marc and me. We waited for Mom to look through three manila folders in front of her. She found the one she wanted and opened it, removing three pages, passing one of each to Aleksy and me, which we moved in between ourselves and the two newest family members. The third was for herself. My brother and I waited for her to start talking before we looked at the pages handed us.

"Okay. So. Back in May, I had my annual physical. No news there; I'm still a farm horse, but a slightly older one now. Heart, blood pressure, cholesterol; all where they should be. Where there seems to be a challenge is protein deposits, known as Lewy bodies, which develop and attach themselves in the part of the brain that manages movement, thinking and memory. I received that diagnosis, and although I'm in Stage One----asymptomatic and able to live my life as normal----it'll progress through three stages, each with subcategories and symptoms specific to that stage. It could present as an inability to multi-task, as well as memory loss moments. Both can come and go at will. The more peculiar symptom might be hallucinations. Most typical are dark, cloudy shapes, what we generally saw in Geometry class. I might also see people and animals.

That isn't happening to me. Not today, anyway. There is no cure, and the lifetime is reduced most typically to five to eight years after diagnosis. Some have lived for twenty years with it by managing the symptoms well, and getting all other health concerns addressed, too.

Well, that's it. I've had the diagnosis for a kind of dementia. The information from the doctors and lab work is on the page you have. I have another appointment in September, which will include a scan of my brain in an MRI machine. That should tell lots more----if there's more to tell. You'll know what I know, when I know it. Ask questions, but at this point, I won't have answers for you. I know my boys----they'll research this online. Maybe Eva and Marc, you will, too. Although researching pizza ovens and history might be a better use of your time."

No one spoke. I didn't know what to say. Regardless of the assurances Mom tried to give us that she was okay and asymptomatic at that point, she more or less said she had a fatal disease. Yeah, well, Life is fucking fatal disease, for which there is no cure. Can't that just be enough?! Why do we need strokes and proteins in brains and AIDS and cancer and bovine gestational diabetes, too?

I had no doubt that if Marc's palm was against my chest then, he'd feel the same fast pounding that was my state fifteen minutes earlier. I could feel every centimeter of my skin, and I wanted nothing more than at that moment to go swimming. The pond would do. Or the pool in town. The Missouri River. I didn't care; I just needed.....

`I' just needed. Selfish, stupid farm boy who led a pretty charmed life for all of his seventeen years, was worried about himself and his crawling skin, when the person who gave him half of his blood and all of her care and concern was then facing a limit on any more of her own years.

But my mother knew me, and her care and concern for the four of us receiving her news was evident. Rather than wait for a symptom to appear, she gave four intelligent people as much time as she could to educate ourselves about the condition. Speaking only for myself, any thoughts of classrooms online and assignments and exams in business management were secondary to the immediate treatise I felt compelled to research and write on the subject of `Lewy Body Dementia in a Marie Body so Dynamic, Dedicated and yes, Deific'.

I'd grown up entirely on the Laws of Farming, and this was the Third Law, bared right at that kitchen table: `Expect perfect results, but prepare for devastation'. Someday I'll list the other Laws of Farming. Right at that moment, two things were necessary: let Mom know we heard her, and let each other know Team W on Farm W work together to bring as much Life and Love as we can to everything and everyone on these three thousand acres. Whew. No one can run his mouth or a sentence on paper like I could (and still can).

"Mom, okay, I---we---are grateful you told us about this. I'm kind of at a loss at the moment to say anything but that. Well, and we love you and we are with you. Nothing has changed in that regard, and I don't see how this will make any difference in us being us' as you.....well, take on some new challenges in being you'. Your challenges are our challenges, Mom."

My brother nodded his head.

Eva being Eva leaned forward and took Mom's hand in her own.

"Kiddo is right, you know. Nothing changes."

"NO! NOT `KIDDO'!!!"

And as if they'd been handed scripts and worked out their timing, all four of them turned to me and said in unison,

"KIDDO!"

We laughed, and I was grateful we could, in half an hour, live with love, and some laughter, too. Mom looked relieved. Perhaps she'd been a little anxious---or a lot---to tell us this grim news. It seemed, though, the conversation wasn't entirely over; though it took on a new direction and dimension. She sighed and looked at each of us.

"Look, this is just me, but there is a change that I think needs to happen. In the big picture, for the farm and family, and in the little picture, just for my own assurances, which I'm sure you'll understand. I would like very much to hear little feet and see little people tearing around this place. No woman was ever born to succumb to anything if her entire focus becomes her grandchildren."

Aleksy and Eva looked at each other and smiled. Ah-HA. So!

"Okay, Mom. Loud and clear! We'll discuss it."

Marc and I looked at each other.

"Okay, Mom. Also loud and clear. We'll figure it out!"

More laughs. Mom stood up and gathered her manila folders. The family conference had concluded for the night. We walked out of the big kitchen through the big living room to Mom and Dad's big bedroom. Big, big, big. Too big for five people; just right for thirteen people. Maybe Lola Cola had showed us how thirteen beating hearts can make a space `just-so' for another generation.

Mom stopped at the door to her room and turned.

"Thank you. That went so much better than I thought it would. `Expect perfect results, but prepare for devastation'. You four are the perfect results of six parents who met at some point. Your perfect hearts and minds got me through that discussion. We'll have more, no doubt. Good night."

Now how the HECK did she and I both pull the Third Law out of our heads at nearly the same time?! Made me smile, it did; and I needed a smile.

Mom got hugs---we're huggers, you know---and she moved to settle herself in for the night. The rest of us climbed the big stairs where the other four big rooms were waiting for us, and, clearly, waiting for more of us. At the landing, Aleksy put his hand on my shoulder, speaking to all of us.

"`Brother Moment', if that's okay?"

Marc and Eva nodded and smiled, and walked to the opposite ends of the hall to the bedrooms there. Aleksy pulled me into the room next to Marc's and mine, and closed the door. The glow from the yard light was enough. I was thoroughly done with harsh glares, particularly after a dose of harsh reality. He launched himself at me, wrapping his strong arms around me, his head over my shoulder. The sob and shaking that followed were nothing I could have expected from my stoic, though occasionally funny, big brother. We held onto each other for what seemed like an hour. We didn't talk. Not at all. It wasn't the time for more words; just the comfort that only blood can provide blood.

Aleksy stilled. Barn Owl must've been perched right outside the window. We both heard her hoot softly. Calling a mate, Barni? Do you want little wings on a little owl, flying around this house, too? Hoot louder. There is so much room here. The more, the merrier.

Aleksy released his hold on me, and I did the same on him. He gave me a sheepish smile, his eyes red and still tearful. I had seen him cry only once before, in all my life. We walked out of the room. As he left, he turned and looked back in and around the room.

"What waste of space, Little Brother.....figure it out. You're both smart."

A less crushing hug, then a brief kiss, and my brother walked down the hall and ducked into the bathroom he and Eva shared. He turned to me.

"Little Brother, never again tell anyone you are at a loss to say anything. That was perfect."

I smiled and he returned it. And that was our night. My mind raced, though. A lot to hear and a lot to digest mentally.

`Jozef, listen to Mom and listen to Aleksy. On this farm, in this house, wasted space is a wasted life. We'll figure it out, Marc.

Daddy, we'll figure it out. Oh----and if ever I needed you to do anything, it's now. All the comfort and care you have, all you can pull from the universe, bring to Mom. Twenty years. Let her be one of those who can have those twenty years to welcome and know eight grandkids, and maybe one or two great-grandchildren, too. Someone will be named with your full name, and he'll do business as Ned. Aleksy and I will see to it.'

I turned and stepped the five paces to the recently- and tastefully-furnished bedroom I shared with my man. Just to be funny, or trying to be, I knocked and waited one second before opening the door and walking in. I closed it behind me. Marc was sitting at the desk, AirPods aimed at his brain. That desk was the only piece of the previous furniture that was not replaced. It had its own long history in the house. He looked at me, released his ears from auditory bondage and shook his head, smiling.

"Think you're funny, don't you, Farm Boy?"

"Sigh. I told you my skills are legion. That's one of `em."

"Will Aleksy be okay? I wasn't eavesdropping. These were put in as soon as I could. `Brother Moments', I strongly suspect, are sacred."

"More than I realized. I did not expect that. I'm sure he didn't, either."

"Marie....."

"Is better off right now down there than the four of us are up here. Oh----you're already reading about it. That's at the top of my agenda, too. Not tonight, though."

Marc pulled the screen down on his laptop, nodding. He stood and stretched. I loved how the shirt would rise up when he did that, displaying the hard work he had done over the years to build those beautiful muscles that moved around beneath the skin covering them. What I'd give, if I could, to combine his DNA and mine.

"I'm going to get cleaned up before bed, Babe."

"Join you?"

"It's a big bathroom."

Oh, yeah. The bathrooms are big, too. That'll be necessary again, just like it was for generations after the house was built. We washed our faces, brushed our teeth, voided our bladders together and headed back down the hall. As we passed the Brother Moment' room, my mind had a fleeting thought. Maybe I needed to call Teigan and ask about availability of nursery furniture. Yeah, Marc and I had no idea where to begin to figure it out', but I made a promise to my dad that I would. We will.

I wasn't feeling at all sexual that night. Nothing wrong with me; it just wasn't.....well, how to say this: even watching Marc take every fiber of clothing off his body was spent thinking only how much I loved him and how tired I was. I was sure he and I would eventually have our own health challenges to face. I was sure our bodies would not always work or look like they did then. For that night, at least; I just wanted to work my body up against Marc's and sleep. So much about that day crawled into my mind and that bed. Just....sleep. Please.

I was awake at 4:19AM. The sleep, barely six hours, seemed to give me more than I'd hoped from it. I felt rested, both physically and mentally. Until I'd spent my first night with Marc, my custom was to wake up and get up. Start the day. Give the chickens their food, and take from them food for us. Horses. Sebastian. Always lots to do. Now, though.....I stayed in bed for a minute or two, looking at the shadows of leaves and curtains cast on the ceiling. I looked at Marc sleeping. What goes through that mind when he's awake is one thing; what does he dream about, too?

As carefully as possible, I excused myself from that mattress and found my shorts on the floor where I'd left them. Once I felt that made me decent enough, I found my way quietly downstairs and out the kitchen door, headed for the barn and the bathroom there. I'd clean up and put on the change of clothes I kept there, not only for mornings like this one, but for an `emergency change', in case I did something dumb like fall in the pond and sink to its muddy bottom. (Yes, it has happened.) Better to track that through the barn than the house.

First order of business was the morning chores, with giving Lola Cola some Me Time out behind the barn. I opened the big south-facing door. Both Bolt and Stan had been lying down, just like the dogs and O.C. Lazy barn family! Why am I up before you are?! AND you expect me to feed you, too! Well, fine. Since I'm already here, I might as well.....but I don't have to like it! (I love it.)

I took my time that morning. The tasks were almost mundane; I'd done them for years. Decades more of them would await me, I was sure. I hoped. Stillness blanketed my farm that morning. Cock-A-Doodle wasn't going to make his daily grand announcement for another hour. Even Sebby knew I was there and that I'd get to him. He was patient, and I appreciated that. I was telling the truth when I answered the 4H judge that my Big Guy and I learned patience from each other.

The puppies were all fine. All still alive, all growing, now nine days old. O.C., good uncle that he was, stepped down from the straw bale and went right to my Little Guy, nosing him and affirming it was okay for me to love the little critter. Oh, and love him, I did. I held him carefully up to the side of my face so I could hear his tiny voice squeak to me about all he had dreamed during the night. I smiled and kissed his little head and assured him he and I would accomplish a lot together, filling each other's days with plenty to dream about for years to come.

There's always a slight ache here and there that comes from man-handling eighty pound bales of straw, all that remained on the farm from harvesting and threshing the grains from the stalks that had grown all Summer long. It had its purpose; nothing on a farm goes to waste. As Jon Black would say: "It's all about the `value-add'." He wasn't wrong.....about that, anyway. 5:30AM and all was well. I led Sebby out to the little pasture, where he'd spend the day in quiet Cattle Contemplation with the 54 other acolytes at the farm hermitage. Knowing #27 would soon return to join them just made my morning all that much better. I'd keep my eyes on her to help her re-gain some of her lost weight. Shhhh.....don't tell the other 54 about the apples and carrots and oats.....

Returning to the northside door of the barn, I found the yellow legal pad always there and made my list for the day. Contact academic advisor; confirm scholarships' availability for distance learning. Call Ross Sweeney---politely and professionally. Wash my rig. More drone work. Work initial plan for Winter wheat. Clean out the stalls. Ride Bolt. Walk Lola Cola---with Bolt? See if Tom wants to ride, too. Evening with Marc in town.

As was my custom, next to each item I wrote an approximate time I thought it would take me to achieve the goal of a complete and well-spent day. Nine or ten hours. Start after breakfast and be efficient, and I could go in to the town home around 6:00PM. I didn't know what Marc wanted to talk about, but that didn't matter as far as time was concerned. I knew, though, that if I'm awake at 4:30 in the morning, I'm generally tired and ready to sleep at 10:00 at night. 9:00, though, would be a lovely number to see on my watch as I drifted off.

I heard footsteps and almost felt the ground quake as my own personal giant walked through the door. My big brother, my really big Aleksy, gave me a nice hand on my back, and looked over my shoulder as I wrote my list.

"Mornin'"

"`And also with you', Aleksy. How're you doing? Did you get any sleep last night?"

He nodded. The answer was not verbal, but it ended the conversation clearly. Maybe another time. My brother's reaction last night was, I felt certain, as much a shock to him as it was to me.

"`And also with you'. Heh.....I just got that."

We both laughed at my liturgical joke.

"Actually, thanks for that reminder. On my own list I need some time to talk with Father Tim."

"Going to Confession? That'll take all day."

"Insufferable whelp. No......need to find out about one of the other sacraments, actually."

"Well, there are six others.....don't make your little brother wait all day to guess which one. There's work to be done."

"The one that involves you being my Best Man. That is, if you can get a haircut and stop being a smart-ass for about an hour."

Everything stopped. My breathing, the World, Time. I'd just heard, kinda-sorta, the announcement probably everyone in the county thought we'd hear ten years ago. We hoped for it. We acknowledged the two pieces that fit together in the Jigsaw Puzzle Of Life (thank you, Kate and Anna McGarrigle), but then, they didn't. A decade later, I was standing in a barn with my brother, hearing him bring blessings on our farm by telling me he and Eva were marrying.

"Oh, my GOD! Aleksy!"

I threw my arms around his neck, and just liked we'd done only hours ago, we held on. This time around, I was the one with tears----but they were joyful and plentiful. This news alone would bring a big chunk of peace to our mother. I hoped Eva's parents would feel the same way. I barely knew them, but very soon, we were compelled to orbit the still-young couple and know each other well in the process. I think just so we could both breathe again, I let go of my big brother---but with great reluctance. This was such big news, and my reaction was, I think, even bigger.

"When did you ask Eva?! Or did she ask you?!!"

"I haven't asked her. Not yet. That's part of why I want to talk with Father Tim."

"You're not asking permission, are you? Do people still have to do that? `Post your bands' on the door and all that public approval jazz? Trust me----THIS public, the entire county, will approve!"

"Heh.....you're such an adorable little brother. You get excited about news as if it were a birthday present, and then you follow that with your nerdy knowledge of matrimonial history. I hope all our kids get your brain."

"Well, DUH! Anyone with sense would hope that! You're obviously a brilliant genius, though----you are going to ask Eva to marry you. I don't remember the last time I was this happy, if I ever was!"

"How this could be a bigger or happier deal for you than graduating early and with an armload of scholarships awards, I have no idea."

"Oh---that. Meh. Everyone has already forgotten about that. Well, `cept maybe you and me, and thanks for remembering. But this is really big news! I am, truly, so happy!"

"So? Will you?"

"Will....YES! Of course I will! Holy Moly! I'm acting like I'm the one being proposed to here. From last night's news to this morning's.....well, fuck! So, if I can ask, though---what does Father Tim have to do with this? I still don't get that part."

"There are counseling sessions. Generally for six months. `Preparation for Marriage'."

"And a celibate priest has six months' worth of wisdom to pass onto people who want to get married?"

"That's not an unreasonable question. However, he doesn't conduct the sessions. He'd be part of them on occasion, but not outside of emphasizing the biblical and spiritual aspect of marriage."

"So, I get that, for people my age or slightly older, who haven't been around the block to understand themselves or others, and what commitment means. Other than the biblical and spiritual aspects, I wonder what anyone there can tell you and Eva, though. You and Eva are gonna do a lot of counseling, and with different counselors."

"Only a fool thinks he has nothing to learn, Little Brother. Eva's first husband, for instance. But it's her previous marriage that concerns me. I don't know how the church identifies Eva and Junior having been married. As well as the divorce."

"All that can be found right on line. Not suggesting you shouldn't talk with Father Tim. I'm sure he'll be delighted by the news."

"I can look online, yes; but the internet isn't going to marry us. First, though, I need to find out if we can and if he will."

Aleksy's points were salient and well-made, and for me, an opportunity to learn a little about the institution and the two men who would be involved in such a conversation. It made me wonder, though.....how different that conversation would go if I approached Father Tim with the same intentions with Marc. Quite differently, I was sure. As well, I knew my age. I knew the age of Christianity. The wheels of Time would move much faster for me than those of an entire two-millennia-old-and-counting religion. I would not expect anything to change in the next seventy years, but there might come a leader who, like John XXIII before him, might `open the windows and let in the fresh air'.

Until such a glorious time, there are options, other churches, and I respected people who would exercise them so they could get married. I just wasn't sure if shopping for a faith to fit my marital agenda would work. No, this current moment in my church would not allow Father Tim to marry Marc and me, and if we went somewhere else, or even to Justice Of The Peace Nancy Todd, my union with the man I loved would not be recognized and blessed. My love for Marc deserves to be recognized. I don't deny my faith, and I sure the fuck won't deny my man. There was a lot to think about, but not at the moment. THIS was all about Aleksy and Eva. I hoped so, anyway. I guessed a trip for my big brother to St Leo's would provide answers, if not additional questions.

We hit 6:00. The Sun was not yet above the Snowy Mountains, and this time of year, it would peek above the peak of Old Baldy, almost 9,000 feet in altitude. These `island mountain ranges', as they were geologically known, made the Sun work harder, but it would get there. My day included working harder, and I'd have to work very hard to keep my mind on the list of goals to accomplish. With Mom's news last night and Aleksy's this morning, Team W's future was at different ends of emotional response. Balancing the two, just as I tried to do with Justice and Injustice, might not be easy.

"Jozef, Mom probably has breakfast ready, or almost. Park your list for a moment. Let's go eat----or beg to be fed, like two little birds in a nest. And please----not one word of this to anyone. I told you first. I love and trust you with this until I can talk with Eva, ultimately. Okay?"

"Okay! Okay to all of that! Being happy sure makes me extra-hungry!"

We laughed and walked across the barnyard to the house, talking about Winter Wheat planting and other field concerns I hadn't put on my list yet. That was part of what made my brother and me good partners in farming. We brought our own thoughts and responsibilities up for discussion, and because we had love and trust working for us too, the time between `before Sunup and after Sundown' was almost easily managed. I could, of course, see it very easily managed---with the addition of eight pairs of hands and feet.

Anyway.

Breakfast was the most perfect aroma that morning. I walked in to see Marc setting the table and Eva squeezing orange juice. I hugged Mom for a moment while she sliced bread, and went to give my man a peck on the cheek. Mom made a scramble with the last of the Hutterites' ham, tons of veggies, and at least a couple of different cheeses. Our plates were piled high, but room was still made for sourdough toast. Talk around the table was about our day ahead for each of us. Marc said the day was more of the same for him; reading his last book, making notes and maybe beginning to outline the next one. It was all so cerebral.

Something I found interesting as a diametric opposite was my work from Marc's work. We both achieve things that benefit lots of others, but mine is all over 3,000 acres. Marc's is on fifteen square feet of a desk. Where we were similar, though: I condensed an acre of crops down to forty bushels of grain. Marc did the same to take a hundred years down to forty chapters over three books. My Harvard Professor. His Fergus County Farm Boy.

I worked through my day almost as I'd hoped. I sent my boy a text message to ask him to go riding, but I didn't get a response. No surprise; their place was right in the foothills of the Snowys, and network coverage wasn't great. Aleksy and I drove out in my truck and finished flying the drones over the fields. We saved a lot of time by doing that. We not only saw for ourselves at the moment, but had plenty of images to refer to later with Mom.

When we got back, I talked him into saddling up Stan and riding with me, as well as taking Lola Cola out for a much-deserved walk.

Another thing about the Bernese dog: they aren't hunting or sporting dogs; not really interested in a game of fetch. They're work dogs, and they have some serious muscle and steadiness on their big paws. Throw a stick and expect a Bernese to bring it back, begging you to do it again? Nope. But load up a cart with a hundred pounds of sticks and that dog won't stop moving until you do. Even then, she'll look at you with contempt for being weak. All is not lost, though: give her a duck heart and she's your best friend again, good for another hundred pounds of sticks on a cart.

The horses were happy to be out and riding. We even broke into a full gallop a couple of times, giving Bolt and Stan their own leg stretches. Two Steeplechase champions, wearing saddles and farm boys on their backs. Their coats were lathered by the time we returned. Lola Cola looked like she'd had the perfect day, but that long coat had some cockle burrs, mostly the underside. I took care of rinsing off the ponies while Aleksy used a fur rake on Mama Dog. Those annoying little seed pods hold on tenaciously, and I could imagine puppies attached like velcro to their mom's tummy, if they also connected with a cockle burr. That would be a bigger challenge than either of us wanted----but it would look kinda funny: a one hundred pound dog carrying miniature clones around, looking like parasites. Well, in reality.....the kinda were parasites; they fed off of a host.

Two goals on my list, crossed off before Noon. Aleksy wanted to call Father Tim and make an appointment to meet. I used that opportunity to call my academic advisor at Montana. She answered, and we talked for half an hour, covering a wide range of concerns I had. By the time we were done, I think she was smiling as much as I was. The news I'd share later would, I thought, be what could help Mom move past feeling like she ruined the joy on the farm last night. Might not be little feet and little people running around the house---yet---but it was more than likely there'd be at least one university diploma taking up space on the wall. I wanted to convince Aleksy that his two diplomas should go up, too. It would make Mom and Eva proud.

I was on a high from my brother's news, following the low from my mother's. Her breakfast was amazing, and we cleaned it all up; but the conversation was subdued. That was lost on no one, but Mom was the one who spoke about it.

"Anybody know what time it is?"

A bizarre question, since her seat at the table faced the clock on the wall. The four of us by our expressions found the question curious, and I'll admit: the thought crossing my mind was, `there could be hallucinations.....but can there also be distinctive blindness?' Eva answered Mom.

"It's 6:45, Marie....."

"Oh. That's what I thought. Does anyone know what time it isn't?"

I coughed on a mushroom.

"Um.....7:00?"

"It's not time for me to die. Not yet. And not for anyone here. Just like it's not time for 7:00. Please, Kids; take the information for what it's worth; it's just more knowledge you now have. I didn't think---nor do I now--- you can't handle it. I know you can. So cheer the fuck up and stop tryin' to prove me wrong."

We were still not exactly behaving with unbridled ebullience, but we got Mom's message. Marc cleared his throat.

"So.....anyone heard any good jokes lately?"

Mom snorted and giggled. Aleksy rolled his eyes toward Marc.

"Well, don't leave us hangin' here....."

"Well, it turns out a major new study recently found that humans eat more bananas than monkeys. It's true! I can't remember the last time I ate a monkey."

We all laughed and I kneed Marc under the table and mouthed, `thank you' to him. Mom stood up.

"That's more like it. Go on, now; shoo. You each have work to do, and I need to call my sister. Boy, is SHE gonna be pissed. Always a competition, at least as she sees it. I'll tell her what I told you last night, and within a week, she's gonna go out and try to catch tuberculosis.....just you watch!"

Mom was first a mom, but second, a farm wife; the kitchen was her domain, and much of her job was to feed her farmers. And businesswomen. And Harvard professors. Still, we each carried our plates to the sink, and following Aleksy's example, we parked a kiss on her cheek. That made her blush----and really happy. To keep her in The Mom Mood, I asked as we four walked out of the kitchen;

"What's for lunch?"

"Well, you are just the stereotypical teenaged boy, aren't you, my youngest? You're eating one meal and asking about the next. Two hollow legs, that's what you have. I'll think of something."

"You always do, Mom."

It was true, time and time again, and across a vast field of Somethings, Mom managed to wrangle one. I nodded toward the living room to Marc. He walked in with Aleksy and Eva. I stood at the sink by Mom, taking a plate she had just washed and rinsed, and dried and returned it to the cupboard.

"So....."

"Don't take too long to spit it out, Jozef. I don't have many dishes to wash."

"Well, two things. One, I forgot to mention it at breakfast, but I'm talking with my academic advisor today. Or I hope I will. Just want to find out about distance learning. Aleksy thinks there'll be no problem. Two, this is the week for carefully-heard and processed conversations, I guess. Marc and I are having one this evening. I'll be driving into town after I finish the work today, and I doubt I'll be home until late."

"You're too young."

"For what?"

"A license."

"I've had my hunting license since I was twelve and a driver's license since I was fourteen!"

"Not a marriage license, you haven't."

"MOM! That's not the discussion. I already know that, and Marc and I are not even thinking about that."

God, I just told a really major huge pathetic lie, and to my own mother who would find out the truth eventually, and I'd get a hide-tanning and ass-kicking I well deserved. Mom put the bowl she was washing back into the sudsy water and turned to look at me. Yeah, `That Look', the attention-commanding one.

"Listen to me. I have known hundreds of couples in my years on this Earth. Some were together just months, and some are together for sixty years. I called the ones that didn't make it, and the ones who have, I see in them what I see in you and Marc. What your father and I had. You're too young for a marriage license, and maybe you're too young to see what's right in front of you. Marc is not your boyfriend. That man is your soulmate.

I've watched him for almost two weeks convey so much love and passion for you while you walk across the barnyard to do whatever. It's not lust. And the best part? I see you look at him the same way. I hear it in your voice when you're talking on the phone with him. And you are Marc's soulmate. Don't doubt me; moms just know. And don't disappoint me, either; grandkids!"

I dropped the towel on the counter and pulled my 5'7" mom up against her 6'1" youngest son into a hug. She sent love and mom-wisdom my way, and I returned love and son-concern her way.

"You're choosing a good night to go into town. Liver and onions for dinner."

I made a gagging face and laughed, and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my soulmate's and my room. I thought on the way how the kindness of Phyllis, Teigan and Mr Abrams toward Marc and me were previews of the main event: Mom's near benediction of Marc and me, together. This day.....it would end with my face hurting from all the smiling I'd be doing. I made it to the top of the stairs to see Eva and Aleksy walking out of their room.

"Little Brother, I'm gone for an hour or so. Taking Eva to `Common Grounds' and then going to an appointment in town. You think you can handle it without me? I can call some of the neighbors if you think you need the help.....maybe all the neighbors....."

Eva laughed, and her laugh.....just infectious. I wanted to give my brother a witty and cutting rejoinder---and I had one ready---but that would've diminished Eva's lyrical, beautiful contribution to the brief conversation on the staircase landing. She laughs the way Lu Barney sings; they both captivate everyone who is within hearing distance.

And they're both going to Rome.....who would've seen that coming? No one was seeing anything coming that Summer. I didn't see Marc coming toward me on a dark highway. We didn't see Dad even possibly dying. Montana was going to Rome the same Summer Harvard came to Montana, Dad went to join a whole lot of welcoming Polish ancestors, Aleksy began planning his future with Eva, and Sebastian won a purple ribbon at the fair. My hands were in the air and I was laughing my head off on this roller coaster ride. `What was coming around the next bend', I wondered to myself.

I didn't fucking care', I answered myself. I had a legion of skills and almost just as many people in my expanding family, all of em on the ride with me. Good or bad, laughter or tears, justice or injustice; we were together for it all. Farm W is my utopia, and Team W, my life force. And----just because he deserves this----Marc is my soulmate.

Mom said so.