Owen

Owen

Chapter twenty-nine

by Roy Reinikainen

Lucas smiled, declining yet another refill of his coffee cup with a shake of his head. For the past hour, he and Owen had shared the five-table restaurant with a constant stream of well-wishers who had learned of Owen's return. Each had greeted Lucas cordially, but it had been clear they had purposely come to the restaurant to see Owen. Adults would smile and laugh at Owen's stories. Young children would either sit on his lap, or stand at his side and hold his hand. Older children managed with only a brief hug.

Owen seemed interested in hearing about everything every person, especially the younger people, had done. And his stories! 'The story of Owen's first snow storm is certainly getting a work out,' Lucas smiled to himself. With every new group of people who arrived, Owen would introduce Lucas, his, 'best friend in the whole world. During every story Owen told, whether it be about arriving at the airport, or his first snow storm, or his apartment burning down, Lucas played a prominent role. "I wouldn't have been able to survive if it hadn't been for him," Owen said, for at least the third time that morning.

"Many times, people would take a moment, before leaving, to thank Lucas, both for helping Owen when he was away from home, and for bringing him back. Just as at Bea's dinner the night they arrived, he was immediately made to feel a welcome part of the community.

'I never would have imagined all this,' Lucas thought, watching Owen from beneath his eyelashes. 'This is not the same man who can be painfully unsure of himself. Here, he's at home, surrounded by people who love him. He knows everyone, and makes sure to ask about all the members of the family, down to the youngest children, always smiling, always shaking hands, or holding the newest baby, or exclaiming how much a shy young boy had grown since they'd last seen one another.

Sally McKenzie, the restaurant's owner, laughed as the latest group departed. "I swear, Owen!" She stood at the table's side with her hands on her hips. "I should hire you to sit and visit with folks. I haven't had this much business since . . ." She paused, staring into the distance, then shrugged. "Come to think of it, I don't recall ever having this much business in one morning!" She patted Owen on the shoulder and bounced off, pencil and pad in hand, to take the order of a group of newcomers, who smiled and waved their greetings in Owen's direction.

An hour later, Owen had declared himself, "able to survive until lunch." Sally laughed, as Owen, wearing a sheepish smile, decided, after the slightest bit of persuasion, to have, 'just one last pastry.'

"Haven't changed a bit, have you Owen?" she smiled, sliding a chocolate and cream confection topped with chopped nuts in front of him.

Owen shook his head. "Sally, I've changed a lot since leavin', but one thing's for sure, I'll never get tired of your cooking, or of your delicious desserts."

"Or the generous portions," Lucas interjected. Sally patted Owen on the hand and gave Lucas a kind smile.

"It's good to have you back, Owen," she murmured, sitting on the edge of a chair across from the two men. "Real good. I'll tell Scott. He'll be happy to know. He was down-right scared to death for your Mama, seein' her lying on the floor, as she was, all cut up and bruised." Sally stood, making a dismissive gesture with one hand as she picked up the coffee pot with the other. "Enough of that sorta talk." Before turning away, she added, "It's been a pleasure Lucas. Welcome to Riverton. I hope you'll be a regular here at the restaurant."

"Nice folks," Lucas said, as he and Owen left the restaurant, followed by the voices of well-wishers. "They seem to really like you."

Owen thrust his hands into his pockets. "And I like them." He turned to Lucas. "I'm glad everyone was so nice to you. It means a lot to me to see that you're happy here." He paused, nodding a greeting at two more well-wishers who passed, but didn't stop. "Are you really serious about maybe staying?"

Owen glanced across the two-lane main street, his mouth curving into an amused smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as he listened to someone singing through an open window, while across the street, a group of laughing children, each carrying a large sucker, burst through the door of the general store and headed toward the park and the playground equipment.

'Everything seems so simple here,' Lucas thought. 'It's as if the people in this place have never had to worry about anything.' He smiled in Owen's direction, raising his hand to shade his eyes from the bright sun. "Yes, I'm serious, Cowboy." He grinned at Owen's pleased expression at the use of his pet name. "If this is where you're going to be, this is where I want to be." He lowered his hand to stop the protest forming on Owen's lips.

"I'm not going to interfere with your and Sam's relationship, so don't worry. It's just important to me to be near you." He grinned and nudged Owen with a hip. "I want to be able to see your smile and hear your laughter." He lowered his voice. "Maybe . . . once in a while . . . we might even be able to hug. Y'think?"

Owen hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, then laughed and rested an arm across Lucas' shoulders. "Oh, Lucas. What would I ever do without you?" He turned to his friend. "If we hug, it goes without saying that I'd want to kiss you." He made a theatrical kissing sound and chuckled when Lucas blushed. "You're a great kisser. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Immediately, his smile faded. "Don't answer that," he said, with a crooked smile, removing his arm from Lucas' shoulder. "I already know the answer."

In a sudden change of mood, he pointed to the building they were approaching. "Would you mind if we stop by the doctor's place?" he asked. "I need to thank him for lookin' out after Mama n'all."

Lucas reached out with a restraining hand to Owen's forearm, stopping him before he turned toward the doctor's apartment. "Owen," Lucas murmured, "standing in the middle of the sidewalk, as we are, isn't the place to discuss what you're thinking, but we have to discuss it." His voice became more insistent. "You know me. You know what my feelings toward you are. I do not see them changing, not for Jonah, not for anyone." He tightened his fingers. "Do you understand me? I mean really understand? Because if you don't, we need to see the doctor later, and go back to Sam's so I can do whatever it takes to make you understand my feelings."

Owen had tensed at the first touch. By the time Lucas had finished speaking, Owen had relaxed enough to place his hand on top of Lucas', and to nod. "I do understand your feelings Lucas. It's me that I'm having more difficulty with." His mouth formed a crooked smile. "I'm feeling so clueless that if we were playing in a game, I wouldn't even know which one." He sobered. "But, this isn't all a game, is it?" At Lucas' shake of his head, Owen's mouth tightened. "That's what makes everything so scary."

"Don't forget, Cowboy, that you are not alone. You'll never be alone. No matter where you are, or what you're doing, I will be close-by."

Owen thought a moment before a smile blossomed. "So . . . you're tellin' me you're a stalker?" He playfully punched Lucas on the shoulder. "A stalker, and he can wrestle too! Ooooo, I'm lovin' it!"

Daniel looked up, surprised at the unexpected knock at his apartment door. He had been attempting to make himself some coffee and breakfast, but was finding that having an arm, broken in three places, wrapped in an overly large immobilizing cast, strapped to his chest, did not make things at all easy. He looked down at his bare chest and sighed. 'Showing some skin to a visitor can't be helped,' he thought to himself. 'I can't get into any shirts. Hell, I'm doing good to wrap a towel around my waist.'

He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair as he crossed the living room on bare feet, wishing he had shaved, and wondering how he was going to treat someone's problems when he was so stiff he could barely move. It had been a couple days since he and Bea had returned to Riverton, both heading their own way to nurse their injuries. Since their parting, he'd wanted to do nothing but sleep, or sit in front of the fire, his feet propped up on the leather ottoman.

'Whatever was I thinking, bursting through Bea's front door and making a flying tackle like I did?' he asked himself for the hundredth time since throwing himself at Jonathan Carver in an attempt to stop him from hitting his wife one more time. He smiled to himself. 'The tackle itself went okay. At least, I landed on him. If I hadn't tripped over the twice-damned chair when I stood up, I wouldn't have ended up in worse shape than Jonathan!' He grinned grimly. 'At least, I wasn't taken into custody.'

"Coming," he shouted, after another knock. He fumbled, alternating between the latch and trying to hold the towel closed, all with the same hand.

"Owen!" He shouted in surprise, smiling and nodding a distracted greeting at Lucas. "Come in, come in." He stepped aside, allowing the two men to enter. "Welcome home! Would one of you please latch the door? Every hand I've got is occupied at the moment."

Lucas pushed the door closed and latched it. The room smelled of waxed wood, and last night's fire. It was a handsome apartment, 'very masculine,' he thought. Almost as masculine as the man who was doing his best to act nonchalant, as he grasped the too-small towel which circled his waist.

"Umm, Doc," Owen began, his amusement barely held in check. "Did we catch you as you were about to shower, or do you normally hang around the house dressed like that? Not that I'm complaining, or anything," he added, with a smile in his voice, his grin blossoming into a smile when he realized the doctor was doing his best to keep his back to the wall, presumably to hide the gap in the towel. "It's just, I . . . ahem, never saw you bein' so . . . casual. His voice held laughter barely concealed."

"In fact," Owen continued, examining the ever increasingly ill-at-ease doctor, "You remind me of that Tarzan guy. You know who I'm talkin' about?" The doctor rolled his eyes as Lucas snorted in the background. "He's that guy who wore something that once was an animal, around his waist like you're wearing that towel. You look like him too . . . all rugged and stuff . . . except for the broken arm and cast strapped to your chest and stuff. If you weren't injured, I'd expect you to pound on your chest to let everyone know how macho you are, then you'd swing from a vine and yell at the sky."

"Very funny."

"No," Owen corrected, returning the doctor's glare. "I think it's sorta cool, though if you don't pay more attention to how you're movin' about the room, trying to keep us from seeing your . . . ahem . . . butt . . . you'll trip over something. You wouldn't want to break something else. Then, where would you be?"

Daniel grinned. "You're right, of course. It's just that I'm normally a little more sedate than this, no matter that you think I look like Tarzan. I'm a little uncomfortable wearing only this dish towel." He chuckled. "If I'd known you were coming I'd have at least tried to wrap myself in a bath towel, then I wouldn't feel so ill at ease." Owen made a dismissive gesture; then turned to Lucas, inviting him closer with an extended arm, which he kept around his waist.

"Doctor Johnson," he said, glancing first at the doctor, then Lucas. "I'd like you to meet Lucas Horton. We've been livin' together, back at college. He's 'bout the best friend a guy can have." He leaned close to the doctor and spoke in a low voice. "You don't have to shake his hand. After all, we wouldn't want you to lose control of your towel."

Before greeting Lucas, the doctor paused a moment and gave Owen a close look, as if not believing that the person who stood before him was the same person who left for school, months earlier. When he'd satisfied himself, he turned to Lucas, who had been watching the byplay with a pleased grin. Lucas had seldom seen Owen in such high spirits, but, ever since arriving back in Riverton, he'd been almost manic, showing his joy.

'Now, if he could only settle his mind where Sam stands in his life, things would be much easier, for Owen, Sam, and, me.'

"It's a pleasure, Lucas." Daniel smiled, then nodded in Owen's direction. "Did you slip something into his coffee this morning? I'm still not sure this is the same young man I've always known." Owen snorted, while Lucas nodded a greeting.

"I really do apologize for my state of . . . undress . . ." the doctor added, guiding the two visitors to the apartment's living room, and the overstuffed leather furniture. "When your mother's sister dropped me off a couple days ago, I began to realize that I'm hurting in many more places than this," he nodded toward his immobilized arm, "would indicate. I can barely move!" he wailed. "I can't shower, make myself a meal . . . anything. I'm sick of eating apples," he added, in a lower voice. "It took me . . . what seemed like hours . . . to get out of my clothes when I got home. Then," he snorted, "I found that, with one arm, I can't get into anything clean. In fact, I haven't even been able to get cleaned up!"

"Do you think . . .?" he asked, a calculated gleam lighting his eyes. "That you could, at least help me with a meal and get showered? I'd probably feel a little better if I had some real food in my stomach, and was clean."

"We can do better than a single meal," Lucas interrupted. "Owen can stay here and help you out with the shower. I'll go back to Sally's restaurant and order a few meals for you." He paused, looking toward Owen. "Do you think they'll deliver?" He brushed aside his question, unanswered. "For you, Doctor, I'm sure they'll deliver."

"You'll have to be wearin' something when you're answerin' the door though, Doc," Owen teased, perching on the arm of a chair. "You'll have all the ladies, and some of the guys, all hot and bothered, seeing you like this."

"Smart ass," Daniel groused. "I'd punch you, but I'd lose my towel, and embarrass myself."

"That's okay, Doc. It's just us guys." Owen's good humor grew, as he lowered his voice. "Besides, not everyone can be, ahem, y'know . . . blessed. Isn't that right, Lucas?" Owen looked over his shoulder for an answer.

"I'm not going anywhere near that one, men," Lucas laughed, letting himself out of the apartment with Daniel's playful shout following him.

"Hey!" Daniel called out, as the door closed. "What's that supposed to mean?" He turned to Owen. "Where we just talking about what I think we were talking about?"

Daniel watched Owen's eyes follow his friend as he passed the windows at the front of the apartment. "A nice man," Daniel ventured aloud, wondering if Owen was aware that his feelings painted his face. Owen nodded once, turning back to the doctor with a wistful smile.

"The best friend a guy could have, bar none." Owen grinned, returning his attention to the doctor. "I don't know what I would have done without him all these months. He seems to make it a habit of helping people."

"Like someone else I know," Daniel murmured, returning Owen's questioning glance with a blank look, before dismissing the comment with a flick of his hand as he changed the subject.

"Shower. Now. Please," Daniel begged. "I'm feeling like I need a good scrubbing-down." Owen followed the doctor into the bathroom, preoccupied with wondering what Lucas would do to keep himself occupied while he tended to the doctor's needs.

"Are you happy to be home?" the doctor asked, dropping his towel and standing aside while Owen turned on the shower spray, testing the water for warmth.

Owen grinned, trying not to be too obvious about studying the doctor's naked body. 'Tarzan never looked so good,' Owen grinned. "Oh yeah, I'm happy to be here, though not under the present circumstances. I mean, with all the stuff Pops has done n'all." Owen motioned for the doctor to get into the tub, taking the opportunity, while the doctor's back was turned, to appreciate the man's broad shoulders, slim waist, and muscular buttocks, which flexed as he stepped into the tub. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "I'm glad you've got one of these shower heads on a hose," he continued, tearing his mind away from sexual fantasies and returning his attention to the doctor. "That way, I can soap you up and we can keep your arm dry. We'll have to wash your hair, using the sink though."

Daniel nodded, holding still while Owen scrubbed his body. He never would have imagined a time when Owen would be giving him a shower, 'but,' he snorted, 'I never would have thought I'd be in the shape I'm in right now, either.'

Owen noticed the snort of amusement and paused, looking up for an explanation.

"Just thinking how strange it is for you to be bathing me."

Owen shifted position. "For you, I would do anything." He perched on the edge of the tub, the hand-held showerhead spraying the far wall, forgotten, as he spoke. "Doc," Owen began, not meeting the doctor's eyes. When the silence stretched, the doctor interrupted.

"Call me Daniel." He grinned. "I figure anyone who I've allowed to bathe me, should be allowed to call me by my first name."

Owen couldn't help grinning at the doctor's crooked smile and sparkling eyes. "Daniel, it is, then." Owen paused, his serious mood not entirely forgotten. "I can't begin to thank you for lookin' out for Mama the way you have. Not only during this thing with Pops," Owen hastened to add, "but ever since I've been away. Jonah told me how much you've worried about her." Owen cleared his throat. "Thanks." He bowed his head. "I feel as if I owe you so much."

"She's a wonderful lady, Owen, who's been through much more, I think, than either of us realize. And, you have to remember that you . . . do . . . not . . . owe . . . me . . . anything. I like and admire your mother a great deal. Now . . ." Daniel sought to change the subject, since he was perilously close to revealing more about his feelings than he was ready to.

A few minutes later, the shower finished, Owen leaned against the bathroom vanity once more in a preoccupied mood, the towel he'd been using to dry the doctor hanging from his hands, while the Daniel stood, dripping wet, frustrated at being at the mercy of someone else for such basic needs. He didn't want to do anything to hurry Owen though. Today, Owen had been more open with him than at any time. He'd always cared for the sensitive young man, and was pleased, more than he could express, that Owen had found someone like Lucas to care for while at school. It would have been so easy for him to fall prey to someone who would take advantage of his good nature and, by doing so, would have been irreparably harmed. "Daniel . . .," Owen asked, hesitatingly, not meeting the doctor's eyes.

"What is it, Owen?" Daniel asked, in a soothing voice, his wet skin forgotten. "Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

Owen pressed his lips together and shrugged. "I don't know, truly. Sometimes I feel like I want to but, then . . . I'm not sure that I know enough of my own mind to talk." He looked up. "When I get things figured out a little more, would you be free to give me some advice."

"I'll listen to you and, between us, we might be able to figure things out; but I won't advise you what to do. Are you worried about Lucas?"

Owen bowed his head, nodding with the barest hint of movement. "And Sam." His mobile mouth twisted into a forced smile.

"Life's just so complicated," Owen murmured. "Until I left Riverton and met Lucas, everything seemed so . . . simple." He huffed a breath of a laugh. "Of course, leavin' and meeting Lucas happened on the same day." If possible, Owen's voice lowered even further. "He's rescued me time n'again. Without him, I . . ." Owen shrugged, his voice catching.

'I thought as much,' the doctor told himself. 'For all his laughing and teasing, this boy's in pain.'

"Then, we'll talk whenever you wish. Just you and me," Daniel added, anticipating Owen's next question. "No one'll ever know, unless you want them to. Think about something for me though, will you?" Owen nodded, still not looking up. "Really examine how simple things were before you left. For as many problems as you think you currently have, I have to believe that you felt many more . . . complications . . . before leaving. Don't romanticize things, Owen. Remember them as you truly believed them to be." Daniel squeezed Owen's shoulder, pleased with the young man's grin.

"Now," he theatrically shuddered, "finish drying me off before I have to treat myself for pneumonia."

Lucas waved over his shoulder as he closed the restaurant door. Sally McKenzie had been more than pleased to deliver some meals to the doctor. "He's a good man, Lucas," she'd said. "I'm glad it was him who helped Bea. She's a strong woman, but I think even she had 'bout reached her limit." Sally gave him a tight-lipped grin.

"It'll be good for her to have Owen back to lend support. It's good of you to come with him. Someone needs to be giving Owen some support too. He's suffered at the hands of that father of his, more'n he probably even knows." She patted Lucas' hand, signaling the end to her thoughts, promising to make sure the doctor was eating well.

'Damn, but the sun is bright," Lucas thought, turning from the restaurant's entrance toward a row of empty storefronts close-by the doctor's apartment. His attention was immediately arrested by the rich detail of the buildings.

'These are wonderful!' he exclaimed to himself, peering into the spaces within through the large street-front windows. The three empty buildings stood side-by-side like three lonely sisters at a ball, all dressed up and waiting for someone to ask them to dance.

He ran his fingers over the once-proud stonework. "You've been waiting a long time for someone to pay attention to you, haven't you ol' girl?" he mused, looking up to the second and third floor windows, their large panes of glass overlooking the two-lane street, proudly recalling times when people called these places home.

Lucas spared one more glance through the window, idly running his fingertips over the aged copper window frame, amazed at the possibilities the empty buildings presented.

"Hello there!" A jolly man huffed across the street, extending a beefy hand in greeting. "I'm Art, the town's barber." He examined Lucas closely, the corners of his lips twitching in suppressed amusement. "Need a haircut?" he laughed. Before Lucas could answer, Art answered his own question. "You'll have to forgive me. I ask everyone that. You'd be surprised at the number of folks who say, yes."

Lucas smiled, instantly sure this man would become a good friend. "Nice to meet you, Art. I'm Lucas," he said, grasping the man's hand. "Owen and I just arrived in town yesterday." The barber's eyebrows rose. "He's helping the doctor get cleaned up," Lucas continued. I guess the doctor's found it to be pretty rough trying to take care of himself, with that cast strapped to his chest n'all."

Art cast a look of concern in the direction of the doctor's apartment. "I didn't know Owen had come back, or that things with the doctor were quite that bad. I've been urging everyone to leave Daniel and Bea alone for a few days, so they could do a bit of recoverin' and not have to fend off bunches of well-wishers. I should probably have checked in to make sure everything was okay before I started making suggestions." He smiled crookedly.

"I'm glad Owen's back. Are you one of his college friends?" Art asked, motioning for Lucas to join him in his shop, offering him a cool drink as they stepped out of the bright sunlight. "He's never had enough friends his own age, that one; always surrounded by well-wishers, but never enough true friends. He's got so much to give. I think he's happiest when he's givin' of himself." Art motioned for Lucas to take one of the faded red leather chairs, and sat opposite him, handing him a cold soft drink. "It was rough on Owen, leavin' Sam'n everyone, to go to school, but it was something he had to do. He never would have rested until he found out what life elsewhere is like." Art rested his elbows on his knees and leaned closer, his eyes intent.

"Has he been happy, Lucas? Has the world treated him well?"

Lucas thought for a moment, wondering how much of Owen's college experiences he was free to talk about. "Yes, Art," he answered, after taking a sip of soft drink, giving himself a moment to organize his thoughts. "I think he's been happy. There've been a few rough spots for him, but overall, I think he'd agree that leaving has been a good experience. But," he hastened to add, "that doesn't mean he's not thrilled to be back home. He's missed everyone more than he's been willing to admit.

"He certainly does seem to be popular," Lucas laughed. "We had breakfast at Sally's, and it seemed as if half the town found a reason to stop by, just to say hi."

"I'd venture to say that he's helped every one of those people in some way. We stand by our own, Lucas," Art added. "If Owen left today and never came back, God forbid, he'd have already left his mark. All those people who sought him out are better, in some way, because of knowin' that young man." Art sat back, stretching his legs in front of him, and folded his hands over his ample belly.

"I can't begin to tell you of all the things he's done, some of 'em small, like rescuin' a cat that was stuck way up in a tree, to other, really important ones, like when he tutored a little disabled boy until the boy's folks moved away to get specialized full-time help for their son, or when he sat up with a sick child night-after-night to give the parents a chance to get some rest. He's always coming to someone's rescue, and never asks anything in return." Art shook his head. "A wonderful, wonderful, young man."

"I think so, too, Art. Everyone he touches seems to benefit. I know I have."

Art smiled in perfect understanding.

"Wait, Owen! Have patience," the doctor laughed. "I think we've got them on backward!" Daniel tried to push the pair of underwear Owen had been helping him with, while ignoring Owen's laughter.

"I'm not going to forget the indignity you're putting me through, you know." Daniel reached out and held on to Owen's shoulder as he managed to step out of the underwear, which now lay on the floor in a small puddle of bright orange fabric.

"Y'know, Doc," Owen tried to stop laughing as he looked up from where he knelt in front of the naked doctor. "If people saw me kneeling in front of you, naked as you are, tongues would be wagging." He reached out and flicked the doctor's flaccid cock with a finger. "Just like you're waggin' now."

"Hey!" The doctor jumped, surprised by Owen's action. "You're free to do that with Sam or whomever, but not with me!" He covered himself with his free hand, suddenly self-conscious, nodding toward the puddle of orange fabric. "Now, straighten those out and let's get 'em on . . . the correct way, this time, if you please."

Owen tried to suppress his laughter. "You gotta uncover yourself, y'know." He held up the bikini briefs. "There's not enough fabric here to cover both your thing and your hand. Besides, it'd look a little weird for you to be seen goin' around with your hand down the front of your pants."

"Smart ass!" Daniel playfully pushed at Owen with his bare foot. "Now, no funny stuff," he continued, in a voice he hoped concealed his amusement, "or I'll have to show you who's boss!"

"Ohhh, look at me." Owen laughed, rocking back on his heels and holding up a hand, as if in self-defense. "I'm trembling in my boots, worryin' that a guy who's got his feet all tangled in his underwear, and looks like he's playing with himself with one hand, while the other is all wrapped up in a big ol' clunky cast, is gonna show me who's boss. Wooo, I'm scared."

The doctor's laughter joined Owen's, as he became aware of the ludicrousness of the scene.

"C'mon, Doc, move the hand. I won't look," Owen teased, trying to be serious, as he managed to tug the briefs over the doctor's muscular legs, pausing at the swell of his buttocks and his hand-covered groin. "I've already soaped-up the goods. You don't have to hide anything." Daniel gave him an uncertain look, then relented, removing his hand and allowing the waistband of the briefs to snap tightly against his lower belly.

'I have to admit it,' the doctor thought. 'Owen's right. These briefs are a bit . . . brief. Hell,' he thought to himself, as he glanced downward, 'they don't even cover my pubes!'

"Y'know, Doc," Owen continued, once more sitting back on his heels and scrutinizing the man before him, "leopard print bikini undies do not fit your rugged he-man image. I would have expected plaid boxers, perhaps in wool, not something one of the guys at the gym might be wearing." He snapped his fingers, as if struck with an idea. "All you need to do is shave and you'd look just like one of my gym-friends." He smiled, pleased with himself.

"This is the last time I ask you for help," Daniel groused, tossing Owen a pair of cargo shorts he needed help with. Dutifully, without comment, Owen slid the shorts up the doctor's long legs to his waist.

Daniel snorted, shaking his head, rejecting the idea of shaving his pubic hair; indeed, any hair other than his face. 'I'm a man,' he thought, 'not some pre-pubescent. I'm proud of being a man, and' he thought, glancing down his chest and belly, to the black pubic hair which peeked above the waist of his briefs, 'and, I'm proud of the hair I have."

"If you're gonna . . . y'know . . . adjust the goods, you better do it now, otherwise you'll be sticking your hand down the front of your pants again." Owen playfully turned his head away. "I won't watch. But, I am wonderin' how you're gonna get all zipped up again if you . . . you know . . . have to go to the bathroom." Owen chuckled, holding a hand to his ear as if speaking on the telephone.

"Hellooo," he mimicked the doctor, who was apparently in some distress. "Owen," he laughed, "could you drop whatever it is you're doing and come over here to tuck me back into my undies and zip me up?" Owen threw back his head and howled with laughter.

"You know," the doctor commented, as Owen stopped laughing and finished zipping up the fly. "You suddenly seem to be in an especially good mood. It's nice to see."

Owen perched on the arm of a nearby chair. "Yeah, other than everything going on with Pops, and needing to figure some other stuff out," his eyes flicked to the doctor's, "things are going good. I'm back home; I'm not trying to hide the fact that I'm into guys; Lucas is with me; and Jonah; and, of course, Sam. Things are pretty good." He looked around the doctor's small apartment. "I'm enjoying myself."

There was a hesitant knock at the door. "I'll get it." Owen bounded across the room, as Daniel sat down and began to struggle with a sock. "It's probably Lucas!"

"Unless someone's bleedin' to death, tell 'em to take two aspirin and come back in six months!" Daniel shouted to Owen's back. "By then, I'll probably have one of my socks on," he mumbled to himself.

"Mama!" Owen exclaimed, swinging the door wide, facing his mother, who looked startled, then smiled uneasily.

"Um, g'morning, Owen," Bea managed, unsure what to do with the loaf of freshly baked bread, wrapped in a red-checked cloth, she was carrying in a basket. "I'm here to check on the doctor. Why are you here?"

"I volunteered to lend a hand to help him take a shower and get dressed. It's not an easy chore," he chuckled, moving aside to let his mother enter. "Your timing is a little off," he added, perversely hoping the doctor would hear. "A few minutes ago, he was naked."

Bea's slight frown was marred by the twitch at the corners of her mouth. The doctor wasn't the only person pleased by her oldest son's good humor.

"Who is it?" Daniel asked, appearing at the door bare-chested, holding a sock in one hand the other, half-on, flopping as he walked.

"Beatrice! How nice! Now that I've gotten cleaned up, I was going to call you to see how you're doing.

"Come in! Come in!" Bea gave him a shy smile as she walked past into the living room, and the homey smell of a pinewood fire, leaving her son to stare open-mouthed at his mother, and the doctor, who seemed to have forgotten his presence.

"I've never been in your home before," Owen heard his mother say. She was openly examining the cozy livingroom, so different from the living room she was accustomed to. She smiled. "It looks just as I would have imagined a home of yours would look. Masculine," she added, as the doctor crooked an inquiring eyebrow. "It even smells wonderful!" Her smile faded as she took in his bruises and broken arm.

"Oh," she said, stepping close and hesitating before reaching out a tentative hand. "You appear to be as battered as I am." She tenderly touched the immobilized arm. "I never did thank you for everything you did the other night. I . . ." She hesitated and bowed her head. "I don't know how much longer I could have lasted."

"Shhh," he murmured, touching her hair and wishing he could take her in his arms . . . arm. She looked so much in need of comforting. She gave him a wavering smile and nodded, glancing toward Owen, who had been looking on in wide-eyed silence.

"I'd offer you a cup of coffee," Daniel said, trying to find something neutral to talk about to take his mind off of being in the same room with the woman he'd dreamt of. He tried to shrug, wincing slightly with the pain. "I'm afraid I haven't been able to figure out a way to make any for myself with this." He nodded to his arm. "Of course, since I'm right-handed, I had to break my right arm. It also seems I've strained all the muscles in my shoulders. I can't even lift my arm far enough to reach the bottom shelf of the kitchen cabinets!" He grinned ruefully. "Here I am, complaining, when you're the one who took the brunt of . . . everything. But," his smile broadened, "the offer of food certainly is appreciated."

Bea's eyes widened. "You've had no real food since we got back? Oh dear!" She looked around, and after spotting the kitchen, hustled into the room. "Coffee and food I can do something about," she laughed. She turned to him, looking as if being in his apartment was the most natural thing in the world. "I brought some freshly baked bread. That'll be a good start." She paused, "You've had nothing to eat? Truly?"

He shook his head, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, with Owen one step behind. "No, I've been subsisting on apples, unshaven and un-bathed, until I was rescued by your son, here. I'm so stiff, I've not attempted to do much other than sit in front of the fireplace and soak up the warmth." He grinned. "But, I figured that since I've got Owen's help, I'd at least get cleaned up and wear something. If you'd come by yesterday, I'd have been wearing nothing more than a blush." She turned to him and grinned. In the background, Owen choked back a laugh.

"So," Daniel continued, "I guess my clients are going to have to become accustomed to seeing me like this." He gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. "It's going to take ages for three broken bones to heal." He lowered his voice. "I'm a doctor. I know these things."

This time, Owen couldn't suppress his laughter. Daniel looked over his shoulder, wearing a playful scowl.

"Your son is being a wise ass, y'know. Either that, or that school he's been going to sent back someone who looks like Owen, but is really a stranger." Daniel shuffled from the kitchen to the dining room, ignoring the flopping sock barely clinging to the toes of one foot, and the young man who stepped aside to let him pass. "I definitely think a psychological evaluation is called for," Daniel sighed, collapsing onto a hard chair, with a grunt and a wince. "Most likely, the boy," he nodded in Owen's direction, "is suffering from a multitude of personality disorders which involve lots of unnecessary laughter, and flicking a finger at my private parts, causing grievous bodily embarrassment, not to mention . . ." He hesitated. "Let's just say he made jokes."

Bea snorted a surprised response at Daniel's openness.

"I was teasing him about what people would say about me being on my knees in front of him, with him bein' naked n'all, not cause of . . . you know . . . size, or anything," Owen joked, trying to maintain a straight face.

"You're not helping, Owen," the doctor grumbled, extending a foot and wiggling the flaccid sock in a silent request for help.

"Would you both like some coffee?" Bea asked, turning back to the kitchen to hide her smile. 'Owen's found himself!' she cheered, silently. 'He's not afraid to be who he is!' She paused. "I could kiss Lucas for his help in setting my son free.'

"I'd like some," Daniel answered, immediately. "Owen has caused enough damage already, so he's leaving . . . never to return." Daniel waved a hand in Owen's direction. "Adios, sayonara, nŠkemiin, auf weidersehen, au revoir, aloha, hit the road, see 'ya . . . get the hint? Send Sam, or your friend, tomorrow. Anyone would show more sympathy for my being an invalid than you." He playfully frowned in Owen's direction.

"Hey, Mama." Owen couldn't help himself, refusing to take the doctor's suggestion that he leave. "What sort of underwear do you suppose . . . Daniel . . . wears?"

Bea wandered back to the dining room from the kitchen, with two cups of coffee, one for Daniel, the other for herself; and sat down opposite Daniel, grinning at her son's good humor. "Oh, plaid boxers, I suppose, in flannel or wool." She raised her eyebrows in response to Owen's twinkling eyes and shake of his head, and the doctor's long-suffering pose.

"Nope," Owen chuckled.

"Owen . . .!" The doctor warned. "I thought you said you were going to leave."

Owen shook his head. "Nope. You said that, not me.

"They're bikini-type ones, about two sizes too small, and they look like leopard skin!" Owen's eyes sparkled as he spoke.

'I've never seen him so animated,' Bea thought. 'He's never felt free enough to be himself.' She paused. 'Oh, Jonathan,' she thought of her husband. 'Owen has overcome your hatred and has taken the first steps toward becoming his own man!'

"Well . . ." Bea paused, trying not to laugh at her son's antics. "I think bikini briefs sound lovely."

"Lovely?" Owen crowed. "Leopard? Lovely!"

"I'm definitely going to make you suffer, young man. Your next physical is going to be absolute hell for you," Daniel grumbled.

Bea continued, her smile broadening, as she looked from one man to the other. "I've always loved cats," Bea went on, ignoring Owen's sputter, "especially the big ones, like the leopard."

"What?" Owen almost shouted, ignoring the hint of a smile on the doctor's face, and the answering one on his mother's. Neither his mother or the doctor seemed to be paying any attention to him, and his scandalized reaction to his mother's description of loving large cats.

"Now, Owen," she said, turning to him, her voice firm as she made a shooing motion. "Leave, so Daniel can enjoy his breakfast in peace."

"Send Sam tomorrow morning. Anyone but you, smart ass!" the doctor shouted to Owen's back and upraised wave of goodbye.

When the door closed, Daniel turned to Bea. "Actually, I hope he's the person who comes back. It's so good to hear him laugh for a change."

"Over here, Owen!" Lucas shouted from inside Art's shop, as he saw Owen step out of the doctor's apartment. Lucas wondered if Art had caught the sudden smile Owen had shown at hearing his voice. 'There is so much going on, here,' Lucas thought, watching Owen bound across the street, without so much as glancing to see if someone might be approaching.

"You should have looked to see if there was any traffic before running out into the street!" Lucas couldn't help saying, reminding himself of his mother, as Owen stepped into Art's embrace, pounding him on the back and holding him tightly, before retreating to the barber's chair, where he immediately began to rotate to and fro.

"Yes, Mama," Owen grinned, winking at Art. "In the future, I promise to look both directions before crossing the street. I won't run with scissors, or put strange things in my mouth." He paused, and grinned. "Well . . ." he drew out the word, clearing his throat and flicking an amused glance in Art's direction, acknowledging Lucas' snort of surprised amusement, before returning to his list of promises. "I also promise that I'll brush my teeth and wash behind my ears, oh . . . and wear clean underwear." He playfully nudged Lucas with the toe of his tennis shoe and raised his eyebrows, wearing an ingenuous expression. "Have I covered all the bases?" He raised a finger, as if having a last moment's thought. "Oh, and, thanks for lookin' out for me."

Lucas welcomed the casual familiarity of Owen resting a foot on his lap. 'This is the man who was afraid of other people knowing he's gay?' Lucas wondered. 'He might as well be advertising the fact to everyone!' He seemed to be ignoring Art's silent, though slightly stunned reaction.

"Well, Owen," Art said, after clearing his throat and breaking into the silence. "Lucas here, was askin' about those old buildings across the street." He nodded toward the three brown stone structures. "I was tellin' him that I've been lookin' to rent 'em out, since about the dawn of time." He shrugged. "But, no one wants 'em." Art studied Lucas appraisingly, as both Owen and Lucas looked toward the buildings through the shop's door. "I'd even be willing to sell . . . to the right buyer, of course," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Lucas likes buildings, Art," Owen said, in the background. "He gives 'em names, and personalities n'stuff," Owen continued, in an aside, as Lucas studied the three sisters, standing proud in the sun.

'Would you ladies like to dance?' Lucas silently asked.

"Owen introduced me to his friend, Lucas," Daniel said, while sipping his coffee and munching on a piece of toast. "He seems like a fine young man."

Bea grinned. "I'll say. He's a charmer. In fact, both Abigail and Opie are half-in-love after only one day." Bea's smile turned melancholy, her voice fading. "They've never had a chance to meet many nice men." A moment later, she shook her head and gave Daniel a crooked smile, which would have been becoming if she had not had two black eyes.

"We're a sight, aren't we?" he asked, nodding his thanks as Bea refilled his coffee cup. "We look as if we've been through one hell of a battle."

"We have," she commented, as she bustled around his kitchen. "And," she added, turning to him and speaking with conviction, her hands on her hips. "We were the victors!" She gestured to her eyes and his arm. "These wounds are superficial. Given enough time, they'll heal." She sank to a chair, opposite his, and took his hand, a familiarity, which surprised him. "They'll heal.

"Meanwhile, I decided to come over here, both to thank you, as I've already said, but also to begin climbing out of the hole I dug for myself over the past years. I don't intend to look back any more than absolutely necessary. Instead, I intend to be happy." She gave him a crooked smile. "I must tell you, Daniel. I think of you as my savior. Not only for . . . the other evening . . . but for . . . everything . . . you've done for me, and the boys."

Another blush. "You are the man who has always made me realize that not all men are monsters." She leaned across the table and kissed his cheek. "I could love you for that alone." She gave him a tender smile, then returned to the stove and the simmering bacon.

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send you a pic of the character(s), please ask.

Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com