Owen

Owen

Chapter thirty-four

By Roy Reinikainen

The slight sounds pulled Lucas back from a dream, leaving behind only insubstantial wisps of eroticism and an erection he longed to touch. Even as he blinked sandy eyes, what remained of the dream, to tantalize his memory, dissipated like a puff of smoke in a breeze, making him wonder if he had actually been dreaming at all. The sounds which had awakened him however, had been real.

'It's finally caught up with him,' Lucas thought, as he listened to Owen doing his best to cry in silence. Even though he was trying to be quiet, he was not able to quash the sobs which shook his body and made the bed shudder..

"It's all right," Lucas murmured, scooting closer and laying an arm over Owen's back. "I'm here."

Owen sniffed. "I," he hiccoughed. "I'm sorry . . . I woke you. It's just . . ." Another sniff, accompanied by an angry swipe across his eyes. "I was just thinkin' about Pops n'how he died, n'all." The moment of silence stretched, until Owen finally spoke, his voice low and, if possible, even more troubled than before. "There isn't any pretty way to die, is there?" While Lucas was trying to figure out how to answer the question, Owen went on speaking, as if to himself. "I've never seen a dead person before." He sniffed. "I never figured I'd ever see someone actually die, especially not my own father . . . like he did." Lucas felt Owen shift positions, and smiled to himself when Owen reached out to make sure he hadn't tugged the light sheet from where it draped across Lucas' shoulders. Owen sniffed, still not completely over his tears.

"I'm guessin' all of what happened today has finally caught up with me, and the strange thing is . . . I don't know what it is I feel. I'm wondering if I'm feeling bad about Pops because it's expected, if I'm really mourning his passing, or if what I'm feelin' has anything to do with him at all. I'm even wondering if . . . being with . . . the guys, a while ago, was my way of tryin' to keep from thinking about everything that's happened today." Owen hesitated, his breathing slowing. "No, wait! I know that being with Corey and Bailey like we were was, at least . . . partly . . . a way to put off thinkin' about the stuff I didn't want to deal with. But," Owen studied Lucas, "I think that, at least you'n I, came away with something from our meeting other than having had a good time." Lucas acknowledged the comment with a nod in the darkness.

"The four of us guys have . . . bonded . . . haven't we?" Owen asked. "We were friends before tonight, but now . . . we've shared a bit of ourselves, like guys in old time stories who used blood to do the same thing we did with our sperm. Those guys call themselves, 'blood brothers.' That's what you guys are to me . . . brothers, just like Jonah is." Owen grinned. "Hmm. I wonder what that makes us . . . sperm brothers?" He snorted a laugh. "That makes me feel great. Still, when they left and I had to try'n sleep, even with you holding me, all those things I'd been pushing aside started shouting for attention. The whole thing is pretty overwhelming.

"I also realized something. In fact, I think that's what started me crying."

"What's that?" Lucas asked, tenderly brushing his fingers across Owen's jawline, barely visible in the darkened room. Owen tenderly kissed the palm. 'It's amazing,' Lucas thought, as he felt Owen's lips linger. 'Less than an hour ago, those same lips had been filled with passion as we kissed, then had joined with Bailey and Corey, to take turns licking the four of our combined loads off of my hand and fingers. Recalling the sight of the three naked men licking his hand clean, along with the sensations caused, and the sounds they had made, caused his cock to twitch. 'Now's, not the time,' he sternly told himself. 'Owen needs me.'

Oblivious to Lucas' thoughts, Owen continued. "As I was thinking about . . . him . . . lying there on the courtroom floor, I was thinkin' that he looked . . . at peace . . . for the first time I can remember. Seein' him like that, as I said good-bye, made me realize I wasted years, trying to get that man to respect me. 'If I only do enough,' I told myself, he might like me, or if I behaved the . . . the way he expected me to and was the dutiful son . . . maybe . . . maybe, he would love me. All that time, instead of tryin' so hard to make him love me, I should have spent more time learning to love myself." Owen clasped Lucas' hand. "I've been too hard on myself, haven't I?" He snorted an unamused laugh and swallowed the last of his tears.

"And, there I was, handing out advice to Corey as if I had all the answers. I should have kept my mouth shut, but, I just couldn't. He's prob'ly hurting more than I ever did, only he's better at hiding it. He laughs and jokes to hide his anger. I always got quiet, figuring that if I didn't say or do anything, no one could be displeased with me. Pops wouldn't shout at me . . . or beat me. If I was quiet, Pops might not even see me." Lucas felt Owen shudder, and wondered what painful memory had just surfaced.

Owen took a ragged breath. "Corey handles everything different from me. Where I tried to . . . to . . . fade into the background, he hides his pain by tryin' to be the center of attention, figuring that if he's making people smile and laugh, he can't be such a bad person . . . that he didn't deserve being ignored by his folks, and treated like he was."

Lucas thought a moment. "Do you think that was the reason for his, 'down-home' stories a while ago? Both he and Bailey seemed almost . . . manic. Corey was telling his stories and Bailey was laughingly reacting to them. I didn't really know what was going on, but it was nice to see Bailey so relaxed." Lucas paused. "If I'd known your theory about Corey's behavior though, I might have felt differently about the whole thing. I . . . don't know," Lucas concluded.

Lucas could hear the smile in Owen's voice. "I enjoyed seeing this new side of Bailey. He seemed so at ease, it's hard to imagine him ever being like he was. Corey's been good for him; he's loosening him up." Owen sighed. "If only Corey was not trying to hide behind his smile."

Owen hummed a pleased response when Lucas began nuzzling his ear. "You're so good to me, Lucas," he murmured, then chuckled. "Y'know, I'm thinkin' that, of all us guys, you are the most well adjusted. I'm worried though, about Corey, and what he'll do when he runs into a situation he doesn't know how to handle, and can't come up with a joke." Owen hummed his appreciation of Lucas' attention. "Y'know," he continued, "I'm wondering if Corey's folks might have changed, since he's been away from 'em n'all. They might be wishing they'd treated him differently."

"Thanks," Owen accepted the steaming cup of coffee from Daniel, inhaled the fragrant aroma, and took what appeared to be his first breath of the day. "Y'seen Lucas?"

Daniel spoke around the last bite of a left over cinnamon roll from the previous morning's breakfast. "Yeah, he went out about an hour ago. He said something about enjoying the air and studying the lay of the land. Oh, he also said that he'd stop by Sally's restaurant and bring us back something to eat. He wanted to get there the moment they opened since he said he anticipated buying every pastry they have, just for you."

Owen grinned. "What can I say? I like sweets. That's why I exercise so much." He yawned, his expression turning apologetic. "Sorry, I don't know how Lucas manages to have so much energy. We had a late night last night."

Daniel grinned. "I'll say!"

Owen grimaced. "Oh, damn. Were we too loud or somethin'? I'm sorry."

"No worries, Owen. Really," Daniel said, in reassurance. "I got up to get something and saw that Corey and Bailey were in your room. It sounded like you guys were having a good time." Daniel smiled. "I was a little envious of the companionship."

Owen blushed. "It was not planned." He held up a hand. "No sex'n stuff, last night, just beating off, and kissin', and stuff. I don't do the other stuff with anyone but Lucas."

"Owen, you don't have to explain yourself to me, or to anyone, for that matter. The same is true of the other guys too. I didn't mention it to embarrass you. Like I said, I was envious of the companionship."

"If you were all horny, you could have joined us," Owen smiled as his eyes twinkled over the rim of his coffee cup, and he pretended to not see the doctor's penetrating gaze.

"You know what I mean, Owen. I'm frustrated, but not so frustrated sexually that I want to get it on with another guy."

"You do?" Corey yawned as he entered the room, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Want to do something with another guy, I mean," he added, when the two men at the table looked up, surprised at his unexpected entry. "Looks like Riverton's a pretty laid back place," he grinned, attempting to coax his hair into place, using his fingers.

"You came in on the last of the conversation, Corey. I just want sex. Not sex with another guy."

"There's some other kind?" Corey asked, as he picked up the container of orange juice the doctor had waiting on the dining table, and poured himself a glass. "Listening to my folks talk, they never did anything whatsoever with one another, yet there I was." He turned to Owen and shook his head. "Selective amnesia strikes at the weirdest times." He grinned at Owen's grey-eyed sparkle. "Guy, girl stuff must be pretty boring if you can't remember what happened."

"Any sex would certainly be memorable for me," Daniel laughed. "There has been so little of it. My brothers are married and have families, yet here I sit, all horned up, spending the night in bed . . . alone. And, to make matters worse," he said, raising his voice in remembered irritation. "I use my right hand, whenever I . . . you know, masturbate, and I can't, since I broke my arm. The left hand just doesn't work the same."

"Well, I'll give you showers, Daniel, but I'm not wanking your dick for you," Owen laughed. He waved away the doctor's retort. "I'm thinkin' that maybe the reason Corey's folks don't remember doin' the deed which resulted in the handsome man sitting next to me, is that his mother was kidnapped by aliens, and impregnated while she was . . . away." Owen turned an ingenuous look at the men who were now staring at him. "Then," Owen continued, "her mind was wiped clean." He sat back wearing a satisfied expression, smiling and nodding to Daniel and Corey, who were watching him with a disbelieving expression.

"Maybe that accounts for the tan." He turned to Daniel. "Aren't you impressed?" he asked, holding out a hand, directing the doctor's attention to the smiling man who seemed to be enjoying the attention. "Just look at him! It's not even summer and he looks like he's been sittin' on a beach somewhere. I'd think it wasn't real and that he was like that all over, except for he has a lily-white butt. Really smooth too," Owen added, wiggling his eyebrows and scooting away from Corey's elbow.

"Thanks, Owen," Corey drawled, cloaking himself in whatever dignity he could manage. "Why don't you go out onto the sidewalk and advertise it?"

"I didn't tell him about the good parts, just your butt." Owen waved a dismissive hand, practically bouncing in his chair. "I know. I'm not acting like the withdrawn guy you've become accustomed to, Daniel. It's just that, after last night, I'm feeling really good. A lot more went on in that bedroom of yours than the four of us getting our rocks off."

Corey interrupted, clearing his throat. "Did I hear someone mention food?"

"Lucas is out communing with nature and claims he plans on bringing back breakfast," Daniel said, continuing to watch Owen, with a wary expression.

"I hope whatever he brings back is already dead," Bailey shuddered, as he walked into the room, impeccably dressed, nodding morning greetings to the doctor. "He's not out there feeling around a chicken's behind is he, just to get an egg?" Corey snorted. "I mean it, Corey. Lucas would do something like that, just for the experience. Then, he'd regale us all with every barnyard detail. I like country-type guys, I'm just not one," he grumbled. "I'm a man of the city," he continued, then did his best to smile. "I'm also not at my best in the morning, so ignore anything I say." He yawned mightily. "Especially, when I didn't get nearly enough sleep. Speaking of food," he added, continuing his earlier thoughts, ignoring the amused glances being exchanged by the other men at the table. "I prefer to be separated from the original source of things on my plate." He nodded his thanks for the cup of coffee Owen slid in front of him.

Suddenly, he looked toward Owen. "Am I going to have to learn how to cook in this new world-order of yours? I mean really Owen, there must be limits!"

"You've never cooked anything?" Daniel asked.

"I guess that's my answer," Bailey groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. "I swear, Owen. When you started me down this road, I never realized exactly what it was you were asking of me. Something new turns up at every corner." He shook his head. "Cooking. me cooking. Imagine!"

"You should hear about the homework assignment he gave me," Corey muttered, turning a thin-lipped smile in Owen's direction. When no more information appeared in the offing, Bailey turned toward Daniel who looked on, perplexed by the entire conversation. "Owen has inspired me to rethink my behavior so I . . . fit in better," Bailey explained. When that explanation seemed insufficient, he continued. "I used to behave pretty much like a rich-boy ass, with no friends, and no prospects. I thought money could buy anything. Actually, I'd come to realize it couldn't, but I had nothing to . . . fall back on. Owen sat me down and told me he had faith in me, and that he was my friend." Bailey lowered his eyes. "He is the very first friend I'd ever had."

Bailey turned to Corey while the doctor glanced toward Owen, who seemed to be studying the contents of his coffee cup. "Homework assignment?" Bailey asked.

"Breakfast's here!" Lucas announced, opening the front door and interrupting any response Corey might have made.

"Is it already dead?" Bailey hollered, missing the barest flick of a glance Corey cast in Owen's direction.

Lucas gave Bailey a strange look as he deposited the aromatic bags on the table. "Of course. What were you expecting?"

"He thought you were out molesting chickens, or something," Corey answered as he peered into the bags.

Lucas made a face. "I've never seen a chicken, much less molested one." He turned to Owen. "Do you have chickens in Riverton?"

Owen laughed. "Haven't you heard the roosters?"

Lucas thought a moment. "Oh, so that's what's making the racket." His brows drew down. "I thought a rooster did it's thing when the sun came up, then had the good sense to be quiet for the rest of the day."

"That would ruin the ambiance of the farm," Corey snorted, motioning for Lucas to hurry and unload the sacks.

"But . . ." he studied Bailey, "molesting chickens? Have you had your coffee, Bailey?" Lucas asked, as he shook his head, wondering at the direction the conversation had taken and playfully swatting Corey's hand away from using his fork to spear something directly from an open container. "I swear, you shouldn't be allowed to open your mouth until you've had at least one cup of coffee, and then, only with a warning about what you might say."

"He's going to learn to cook," Corey added, accepting a plate from Daniel, who had been listening to the banter with a smile.

"I'm glad you're the one to eat the results." Lucas made a face in Bailey's direction. "Owen's a pretty good cook," Lucas grinned. "He excels at opening containers of take-out food. If only his mother had taught him a few of the basics." Lucas snorted. "If only my mother had taught me to cook," Lucas added, wistfully.

"Our mothers don't cook." Lucas acknowledged Bailey's mutter with a chagrined expression. "Then, that's why she never taught me, I guess. Perhaps Bea'll give all us guys lessons. You haven't truly eaten," he explained, dishing something into Corey's waiting plate, "until you've eaten some of Bea's cooking." He looked toward the sky. "A taste of heaven!"

"That reminds me," Daniel studied his plate, poised to eat using his left hand. "I meant to tell you guys that Bea's bringing by a couple loaves of fresh bread. She called just when Lucas left for his morning constitutional."

"Oh, damn, I guess I have to make myself presentable, since we'll have a lady in the house," Corey groused, casting a longing look at his breakfast plate. "I've only met the woman once. I probably should be wearing more than my underwear when she shows up." He grinned in Owen's direction. "At least I don't go around showing bare skin, like someone we all know and love."

"He didn't show you any skin, Corey, at least until you coaxed him out of his jeans," Bailey laughed, then seemed to remember where he was. "I'm sorry if I'm out of place, Daniel. Like Lucas says, I should probably remain silent until the caffeine kicks in."

Daniel dismissed Bailey's concerns with a gesture and smiled at Corey, who was behaving as if he hadn't eaten in a week. "I doubt Bea would appreciate her son flashing, ahem . . . skin . . . at her, but perhaps you could show her your tan," he suggested, smiling.

"Just what the world needs, a town full of comedians," Corey muttered. "Hey Mrs. Carver. Wanna see my butt?" Corey called, as if shouting to Owen's mother. Only Daniel was aware that Bea was standing in the door to the kitchen, smiling at the good humor from those around the table.

Unable to ignore the perfect straight line, she stepped into the room. "Not today, Corey," she interrupted, causing him to jump, and everyone else to hoot with laughter. "But, thanks for the offer." She glanced in Owen's direction. "I think I'll also pass up the chance to see some of my son's . . . skin. I've seen it all, more than once. Besides," she theatrically shuddered. "It makes me think of changing diapers."

Corey leaned back in his chair with his hands over his face as Owen sputtered.

Lucas closed the door to the doctor's apartment and walked to the corner of the building, looking around the largely deserted street, with his hands in his pockets, feeling more contented than he could recall ever being. Those people who had noticed his appearance, waved a greeting, then went about their business. 'So different from . . . where I grew up,' he thought, already realizing that he had grown to think of Riverton as home. 'Back there,' he told himself, as he drew in a long breath of cool moist morning air, 'no one would even think to greet a stranger on the street. The air would be filled with diesel fuel fumes and the sound of car horns. There is a peacefulness about this place, never mind the drama of the courtroom and the death of Owen's father, this is a wonderful place to be.' He inhaled deeply and almost laughed with the sensations flooding his senses. The smell of damp earth and young growing things hung suspended in the still air, hinting at a fundamental cleanliness utterly unlike the air of the city. 'Yes,' he thought, 'this place could very easily become home.'

He strolled down the sidewalk then sat on one of the benches in front of the buildings he'd already begun to think of as his. He stretched his legs out in front of him and rested both arms on the bench back. 'I can imagine what these buildings can be made into,' he thought, closing his eyes and letting the early morning sun warm his face, as he formulated plans.

'These can be a new home, not only for Owen and me, but maybe for Sam and Jonah.' If what he'd heard Sam tell Bea about his father's recovery, and imminent return to Riverton had been correct, his friends might find themselves without a place to live. And, even if Sam and Jonah chose to live elsewhere, he and Owen certainly needed a place of their own.

'It's wonderful of Sam to offer Owen and me a place to stay, but it's difficult, having the four of us together, since we're still fitting in to our new relationships. Sam and Jonah are together, yet, there are times, when it's clear Sam is thinking of Owen. Then there's Jonah, the man who seems to have no skill whatsoever in hiding his emotions. I'll catch him looking at one of us as if he wants to say something, only to have him grin embarrassingly and turn away. He wears his seriousness like a poorly fitting coat. He's uncomfortable.' Lucas brushed away a pesky fly. 'I wonder what's really going on behind that serious facade.

'And what is it you feel, Mister Horton?' he sighed at the question. 'You who are so expert in interpreting what others are feeling.' He shook his head. 'I don't know exactly what I feel. Sam, Jonah, Owen and I are unsure how to behave around one another, that's for sure. There are times I would like to put my arm over Jonah's shoulder, or give him a hug. He seems so young and confused.' Lucas thought a moment. 'Maybe your feelings are as mixed up as his, ol' boy. Maybe the sooner Owen and I can get out of that house and be someplace by ourselves, the better it'll be for everyone. But first, we're going to have to move our stuff to Riverton. We need to figure out what to do about school. I need to speak with Mom and Dad. We need to clear out of the apartment, and I need to have Dad look over my business plan.

'Move,' Lucas mused. 'I'm ready to move to Riverton; I'm just not sure whether Owen is going to ever be ready to return. After all, he's right. There's no place for him to fit in to. I have a vision for myself, and possibly for Jonah, and perforce, Sam, but Owen . . .' He grimaced. 'I don't know what to think. He seems happy to be visiting, but I don't think he wants to return.

'And, what should I think about last night, with Corey and Bailey?' Lucas yawned. 'Doing what we did with them was pretty intense, especially seeing Bailey's reaction to Owen's nakedness, and being asked to masturbate him.' Lucas snorted a soft laugh.

'I swear, it was almost as if Owen had planned the entire thing as a learning experience for the four of us. When the evening began, we four thought of ourselves as friends. After last night, we're more than friends. We've shared something . . . other than sperm . . .' Lucas grinned, recalling the taste of the combined loads he'd licked off his own hand, as well as the sight and feel of the three other men as they sucked up some of the white liquid.

'Even though he never mentioned it, Owen couldn't help but be aware of how Bailey continued to feel about him, and he found a way to . . . diffuse those feelings without anyone being hurt.' Lucas thought for a moment, staring into the distance, struck suddenly by a new thought. 'I wonder if some of what Owen had Bailey do was for my benefit. Did I perhaps, still have . . . some . . . residual bad feeling toward Bailey, some . . . fear that Owen might eventually succumb to Bailey's wishes? And, what about Corey? Could Owen possibly have orchestrated everything to show Corey that Bailey's real focus was on him not Owen?' Lucas shook his head, wondering if he were attributing motivations to Owen which didn't exist.

'I don't think so,' Lucas concluded. 'Owen is sooo subtle when it comes to other people. Unfortunately, his mind seems to freeze whenever he thinks about himself. If only someone could do for him what he does for everyone else.' He shook his head.

"You're a miracle worker! You know that, don't you?" Lucas had asked, as they lay in bed, more than an hour after Bailey and Corey had left, and Owen had recovered from his crying. "I'm amazed at how deftly you handled Bailey's curiosity."

Owen had only chuckled. "No, no miracles were involved. I just established boundaries, then gave him his freedom within those boundaries, that's all. I gave Bailey what he's always wanted, since meeting me. He got to see me naked, and do a little exploring. He got to masturbate me and taste some sperm, some of which had to be mine, and he was able to do these things without feeling guilty about doing something without your or Corey's knowledge. I think his curiosity has been satisfied, and he can now concentrate on Corey, realizin' that I'm nothing special. I could have become an obsession if something hadn't been done. That's not something either of us needs, especially Bailey, developing a new . . . persona . . . as well as starting a new relationship like he is."

Lucas could hear the grin in Owen's voice. "Besides, it was your idea, to share our stuff. That is what really did the job of us guys bonding. It was a stroke of genius." Owen chuckled, as he turned onto his stomach and rested an arm over Lucas' chest. "It was also pretty exciting." He smacked his lips, "not to mention tasting pretty awesome."

"Have you noticed that Corey is very much like you?" Lucas had asked. Do you suppose Bailey's fascination with you . . ."

Owen had become very quiet. "I certainly hope that Corey isn't an Owen Carver stand-in. I don't think that's what Bailey's feelin'. For Corey's sake, I hope it's not. Corey is too nice a guy to have someone treat him only as a substitute. I'm thinkin' Bailey likes Corey because he's an accepting kinda guy. He doesn't make demands that Bailey quickly change his behavior, and he's a genuinely nice person. Still, no matter how at ease he seems, he's walking a fine line holdin' himself together." Owen thought a long moment, lying quietly at Lucas' side in the darkened bedroom. "I hope that now that Bailey's curiosity has been satisfied, he can concentrate on Corey. After we'd all licked your hand clean, and they started kissin', I thought we'd never get them to go back to their own room! If Bailey had still been . . . thinkin' . . . 'bout me, I don't think he'd have been acting like that."

"Damn, that was hot, watching them writhe around on the bed like they were, all sweaty," Lucas murmured, sighing at Owen's touch. "But, we were doing quite a bit of our own writhing and kissing," he laughed. "My lips are going to be all puffy in the morning. I'd probably better not do any more kissing tonight."

"Awwww," Owen protested. "I like puffy lips. Besides, you won't be the only one, y'know? I wonder what Daniel'll think when he sees the four of us."

"He won't pay any attention to anyone's lips," Lucas laughed. "He'll probably wonder how Bailey can dress so well, so early in the morning." Lucas grinned, imagining Bailey appearing for breakfast, impeccably turned out. "Even though they were fun, I'm glad we're alone," Lucas had murmured, reveling in the warmth of Owen's nakedness next to his own.

"Mmmm," Owen hummed. "Me too. The four of us may think of ourselves as brothers, but you're the only . . . brother . . . I want to sleep with."

The merry sound of Bea's laughter filled the kitchen as Bailey stood to greet her. "How sweet," she said, accepting the chair he held for her. "I don't believe anyone has ever stood when I entered a room," she added, smiling up at him, "or held a chair for me." As the three men still seated gave one another guilty glances, Bea took Bailey's hand. "Thank you, kind sir," she smiled. "I don't know how my son does it, but he seems to attract the most wonderful persons as friends," she said, turning her brilliant smile to include Corey and Lucas.

"And, don't worry about me seeing you in your underwear, Corey," she patted his hand. "I'm not easily offended, or embarrassed. You must remember, I'm the mother of two sons, one of whom I have, at times, had a difficult time keeping clothed."

"I was young then, Mama," Owen groused, "and, it was only a few times."

"There's a pattern here," Bailey chimed in, setting down his coffee cup. "The first time I met Owen, he was naked," Bailey smiled, ignoring Owen's playful frown and Corey's raised eyebrows. "As the day he was born," Bailey continued, enjoying the pink tint of Owen's cheeks. "And Lucas' sister Allison, told me that he was only wearing his underwear when she met him."

"I'd just gotten up!" Owen protested. "Besides, Lucas was dressed the same way! You guys showed up really early in the morning . . . unexpectedly. And," Owen added, turning to Corey, "before you make some smart ass remark, I was in the living room during both encounters, not the bedroom." He crossed his arms and nodded decisively. "So there," he concluded, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

"Owen," Bea said, giving her son a disapproving, over-the-glasses look. "Smart ass?"

Owen waved dismissively. "It's okay, we're brothers. It's a bad habit I brought with me from college, like eating cannoli."

"Brothers?" Bea asked, refusing to be diverted by cannoli or bad habits. "When . . . no, how did this come about?"

"Last night," Owen answered, then returned to his breakfast. When no further answer appeared to be forthcoming, Bea turned to Corey, hoping for a more thorough explanation. Instead, all she received was an impish smile, and an exceedingly pleased expression. "Are you a . . . brother too, Bailey?" she asked, turning to face the suddenly silent young man, "and you, Lucas?"

Bailey responded with a tight-lipped grin, nodded once, then seemed to find something interesting about his coffee cup.

Lucas smiled, "Congratulations, Bea. You now have three new sons, and you didn't have to be pregnant or change a diaper for a single one of them."

"Hmmm," Daniel murmured from nearby.

"Ummmm, that's nice," Jonah cooed as Sam's hands glided over his back then down to his buttocks. He turned his head and tried to look back at Sam, who knelt at his side, his hands glistening with massage oil. His murmur of, "I love the feel of oil on my skin," was accompanied by a sensuous thrust of his bare buttocks as Sam paused to explore the hairless cleft between the twin mounds of muscle. "I'm thinkin' that maybe the two of us should stay in bed all day. We could close the drapes and shut out the world. It'd be just the two of us. Wouldn't that be nice?" Jonah rolled onto his back and pulled Sam close, tenderly kissing a line from his neck to his mouth.

"The world would eventually intrude," Sam murmured.

Jonah sighed, urging Sam to lay on top of him. "Always, so serious Sam. I know you can laugh. I've heard you. You're eighteen! There's no need to act like an old man."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he murmured, when Sam's face clouded. "It's just that . . . everything . . . everyone . . . is always so serious. I'm thinkin' that sometime, I'd like to go running through the fields, waving my arms in the air and howling with laughter. I've been forced to be serious my whole life. I'd like to laugh and roll around on the floor, wrestling, or somethin'. I want to laugh and act silly. I'd like to abandon responsibilities and actin' all grown up . . . at least, once in a while." His smile faded as he studied Sam's distant expression. "Where're we goin', Sam? I'm feelin' about as aimless as Owen says he is. I imagine that you're feelin' 'bout the same way. School's gonna be finished soon, and where will we be? As much as I love talkin' about laughing and being silly and lying about with you, I want to be doin' something constructive."

"Lucas spoke to you about his ideas. I thought you'd have been thrilled."

"Yeah, greenhouses, growin' stuff year-round; selling what we grow to cities all over the state; transforming Riverton into the town it once was. It's an exciting dream, but . . . It . . . it's such a big idea. Right now, I'm thinking only about me, not the greenhouses, or growing things, or . . . or, anyone. Just me."

Sam rolled off Jonah and propping himself up on an elbow to study the man next to him while idly running a hand over Jonah's chest and flat belly.

"So, I'm overwhelmed!" Jonah rolled way from Sam's touch. He crawled to the edge of the large bed then stepped off and began to pace, his body still glistening from the massage oil. "It's like, wham," he clapped his hands together, "all my dreams have been answered in one fell swoop! Just like that. Everything I've ever wanted, dumped at my feet! I'm thrilled, and at the same time I'm scared out of my wits by the faith Lucas has in me and my dreams. He's basing all his dreams on me, Sam! On me being a freaking success! I have to be a success, right away. There's no learning curve. It's like being dropped into deep water and being told to sink or swim." Jonah turned to Sam. "I have to swim, Sam. It's not just me who'll be hurt if I can't. I'll be dragging down Lucas with me, and you, and Owen, and the whole freaking town!"

Jonah flopped onto an armchair, throwing a long leg over one of the arms, as he raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what to think. I mean, what did I do to be given this opportunity? I feel as if I don't deserve what he's offering, that I'm being bought!" Jonah launched himself out of the chair and paced to the window. "Here I am . . . me, the guy who never got a gift in his life until this past Christmas, suddenly being given . . . everything!" He stretched his arms out to his sides and turned back to Sam who was watching from a cross-legged position in the middle of the bed. "Why?"

"Because he has faith in you," Sam answered, ignoring Jonah's contemptuous snort.

Sam scooted to the edge of the bed, dangling his legs over the side. "There's more to what you're thinking than not feeling up to the job, isn't there?"

Jonah nodded once, from where he stood, looking out the bedroom window. "Yeah, I guess . . . some."

"What is it?"

"I'm feelin' trapped!" Jonah threw up his arms, turning first to Sam, then away. "I don't know why, but that's what I'm feelin'. If I embrace Lucas' vision, maybe I'll be trapped for the rest of my life! I don't like feelin' like this, Sam. It's different, but at the same time, not all that different from what I felt when I was livin' at home with Pops lording it over everyone. I want to laugh! I want to run in the fields and shout and wave my arms and throw my cap in the air, just because it feels good. I want to be in control of what happens." Jonah huffed a laugh. "Or at least feel like I'm in control." He raised his arms to their full extent, then dropped them. "I don't feel like I have any control over anything, now. Everyone's makin' decisions, and there I am being dragged along."

Sam patted the mattress at his side. "C'mon, Jonah," he coaxed. "Let's try and pinpoint what needs to change to make you feel less . . . trapped." Jonah raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head.

"Let me make the decision, Sam!" A second later, he seemed to deflate. He walked to the bedside and slowly sat, taking Sam's unresisting hand in his and linking fingers. "You didn't deserve that," he mumbled, by way of apology. "I'm just feelin' all twisted inside. It's like I'm being pulled in all different directions." He squeezed Sam's hand. "Am I forgiven for being such an ass?"

"Saying what you feel doesn't make you an ass, Jonah. You'd be one of those if you chose not to express yourself. I take it that you'd rather work through some of your feelings a little bit more before talking about them?"

"Yeah, I guess. S'about all I've been doing is thinking about 'em. It's like they're all slippery. I grab onto one, thinkin' I have it well in hand, only to have it slip away." He brought Sam's hand to his lips and tenderly kissed it. "I'm sorry for acting like this. I really am. You've been so good to me . . . ever since that day that I showed up on your doorstep." He grinned, looking into the distance, as if he were reliving that meeting. "And, here I am telling you about me feeling overwhelmed by responsibilities. I mean, look at the friggin' responsibilities you've got, managing the farm, worrying about your father . . . school . . . me. You do worry about me, Sam, about me and you. I know you do. I've seen you watching me, and I can't help but think that you're feelin' like you've had . . . stuff . . . tossed into your hands, too. Y'know . . . stuff that you want, but, at the same time, don't." He tightened his grasp of Sam's hand. "Am I making any sense?"

Jonah's observation was met with a slight shrug.

"You're thinkin' about Owen too. Y'know, Sam . . . since Owen left for school, I don't recall ever seeing you smile, like you are in that picture Owen carries around with him." Jonah fell backward with an umph of expelled breath. Life is just too complicated. "Y'know, one of my first thoughts . . . right after Pops died. He was still lying on the courtroom floor, in fact, was that life would be simpler, not having to deal with him." Jonah rolled his head to the side. "That wasn't a very nice thing to be thinkin', but . . ." He threw a forearm across his eyes and sighed, by way of a shrug. "But," he continued, rolling onto his stomach and cradling his head in his folded arms. "But, things aren't more simple, 'cause he's gone . . . dead," Jonah paused, "whatever. In fact, they seem way more complicated than ever. When Pops was alive, and I was livin' at home, all I had to do was go to school, and stay out of his way. Now . . ." He heaved a sigh. "I don't want to think about it. Here I am wallowin' in self-pity, making you feel bad."

Jonah rolled to his side, welcoming Sam into an embrace. "I love you Sam . . . I really do."

"Oh, Sam!" Bailey called to the man across the street from where he sat in the shade of a tree next to Sally's Restaurant. Sam raised an arm in greeting then crossed the street, wearing a smile. "Do you happen to have a couple minutes?" Bailey asked, "I have something to ask you. It's about Owen." At the mention of Owen's name Sam's smile widened as he sat down.

"You always have time for Owen, don't you?" Bailey asked, with a grin of his own. "I can understand, believe me." Bailey seemed to think a moment, considering what he was about to say. "Has he ever told you about how the two of us met?" Sam's smile faded in reaction to the conversation's serious turn.

"No, he's always referred to you as a friend of his from school. Is there something else?"

"He's not hiding anything from you, if that's what you're thinking. It's just," Bailey sank back against the back of the bench and focused on something across the street as he spoke. "It's just . . . we were anything but friends, at first. I met him on his first day in the City. He was staying with Lucas." Bailey's lips compressed. "I'm afraid, I made a fool of myself, that first day, and for months afterward. Owen kept telling me, 'no,' but I refused to listen." He shook his head, recalling how desperate for a friend he'd been.

"Owen came to my rescue." Bailey grinned, turning to Sam. "I would imagine you've heard about Owen coming to someone's rescue, many times." Sam's lips twitched as he nodded. "Well," Bailey continued, sighing as he bowed his head. "I was in jail, as a suspect in burning Owen's rooming house to the ground." Sam remained quiet, but was unable to control his slight intake of breath. "Owen and Lucas came to visit, and Owen . . . he . . . called me a . . . friend."

Bailey moistened his lips and tried to smile. "He gave me a homework assignment; one that I've worked on every waking moment since." He smiled. "Sometimes, even in my dreams, as well.

"All of this self-revelation has a purpose, so bare with me a moment longer." Sam nodded. "I vowed . . . and my parents vowed, that we would repay Owen somehow. My father has grown weary of waiting for Owen to ask for something." Sam grinned and shook his head.

"He'll never do that, Bailey. And, I agree with him. There is no need for you or your parents to pay him back. Owen was just doing, with you, what he does with everyone . . . being a good friend. People who know Owen, somehow come away believing that they are capable of anything. He sets us an example of . . . goodness . . . and the rest of us strive to live up to his expectations."

Bailey thought a moment. "Well said. Nevertheless," he added, my father has given me the task of finding something to give Owen that he would hold dear. I've thought of something, and, since Corey and I will be going back to school, I would like to enlist your help in seeing that my family's . . . gift . . . is realized. Would you be willing to help me?"

"Of course," Sam answered, "but if you insist on doing something for him, there is no need for it to be elaborate."

"Yes there is, Sam. You see, if Owen hadn't extended his hand to me, I very much doubt I would be alive today. I had reached a point where I had given up. I knew I was an ass, a . . . peacock, but I saw no way to change. Even if I had, whom was I to change for? I had not a single friend. I had alienated my parents; I had screwed up my education; all because of my behavior. Owen believed in me." Bailey swallowed. "He was the first person . . . ever . . . to do so, and by believing in my ability to change, he convinced me that I had a reason to continue living.

"So, you see, from my point of view, Owen saved my life. He threw me a life preserver, and his . . . expectations . . . have been pulling me forward ever since. My family and I have the means to give him something special . . . something he would never be able to achieve by any other means. Please help me."

~ to be continued ~

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