Owen

Owen

Chapter thirty-five

Lucas sat on the floor with his back against a large leather sofa, a bare leg on either side of Owen, who relaxed into the loose embrace. Since the death of Owen's father, and the eventful meeting with the doctor, Lucas thought of the days as having taken on a lingering honey-sweet quality. Each morning, he would lie at Owen's side as the pale morning light caressed his lover's nakedness, highlighting the slow rise and fall of his chest, the ripples of his belly, and the flaccid penis which curved over the swell of his scrotum. The sleeping man's short blond hair, seemingly always in disarray begged to be touched, as did the slightly smiling lips.

"It's nice of Daniel to let us use his place while he's gone," he murmured, first nuzzling Owen's ear then caressing it with the barest of kisses. "Us being away from the house gives Sam and Jonah some time alone, too." Owen hummed a reply and rubbed his hands up and down Lucas' legs as he flexed his toes, luxuriating in the warmth of the fire against his bare skin. Lucas ran his nose back and forth through the blond hair at the back of Owen's head, inhaling the spicy scent he loved so much, then kissed Owen's neck, tightening his embrace, the tranquility of the setting blanketing him.

"I never would have imagined I'd be naked with another guy, lying on the floor of the doctor's living room, enjoying a fire and a glass of wine," Owen murmured. He held up his half-empty glass by the stem, slowly swirling the pale liquid. "Y'know this stuff makes me all woozy, don't you?" He twisted slightly trying to look over his shoulder and grinned in the flickering light cast by the fire in the darkened room. The fire crackled sending out a spray of sparks as thunder rumbled in the darkness and a steady drum of rain sounded on the apartment's windows.

"You're not planning on taking advantage of a poor, innocent, country boy, are you?" he asked, with a hint of a smile in his voice, as he lightly rubbed his hands over the hair on Lucas' thighs.

"Hmm, I don't know. Do you happen to know of an innocent country boy who would enjoy being taken advantage of? You sure had those girls at the restaurant interested in being around you. I was hoping I was the only person turned on by your good looks."

"Verrry funny," Owen snorted, playfully slapping Lucas' bare leg. "Those girls were all," he shuddered, "giggly. I hated how they touched me without asking. No one does that but Sam, the family, and you. Sorta gave me the willies. I'm not the fancy person they think. I'm just a country boy. I'm not as naive as when I met you, but . . ." He sighed, melting into the warmth of Lucas' embrace as thunder rolled overhead. "I'll never be the person that'll take them away from Riverton."

Owen lapsed into silence. "I sorta don't blame them. I've dreamt all my life of leaving, only to find myself back where I started. Those girls probably have less of an idea what the world is like than I did when I left, and, if they ever do manage to leave and find that they're overwhelmed, they probably won't have someone to rescue 'em like you did me." He reached for Lucas' hand. "Y'know, I'm thinkin' how lucky a guy I am, to be in love with someone as wonderful as you. I've changed a lot 'cause'a you." He brought Lucas' hand to his lips and kissed it, then rolled out of the embrace, onto his side, smiling and urging Lucas to join him.

"Aww, Owen, now's not the time to wrestle," Lucas groaned. "You know you can beat me every time. What fun is that for you?"

"I'm not asking you to wrestle. I'm asking for you to squirm around on top of me, so I can feel that thing between your legs poking at me. I'm wanting to be skin-to-skin with the man I love. Laying around in front of the fire is great, but havin' you on top of me is way better." He reached out and trailed a fingertip down Lucas' chest to his belly, then brought Lucas' hand to his lips. He tenderly kissed the palm then licked across it, finally sucking on the forefinger. "I like it when we go real slow," Owen murmured. We don't even have to jiz. Being with you is what I like best. He lapsed into silence, thinking for a moment, then grinned. "Though shooting a load runs a close second." He laid on his back and opened his arms. "C'mon, handsome. I'm wantin' to hold you so bad."

"Seeing you like this is an invitation no one could ignore," Lucas murmured as he knelt between his partner's spread legs. Owen tilted his head up, smiling an additional invitation. His skin positively glowed in the flickering light of the fire. As always, Lucas was especially taken with the faint freckles sprinkled across Owen's nose. They had been one of the things Lucas first noticed when he met Owen and, in his opinion, were one of Owen's most endearing features. 'This is a man who is so much more than a mere sex partner. He is a life partner.' Lucas leaned forward and nuzzled beneath Owen's scrotum, pleased, both with the sound of pleasure and the warmth of the fire against his bare ass cheeks.

He rolled one testicle, then the other, in his mouth, then swallowed the length of Owen's erection, massaging its underside with his tongue as Owen rhythmically tightened the muscles of his buttocks, gently thrusting himself into Lucas' warm mouth. "Ohhh, that's good," Owen murmured, a moment before groaning in frustration when Lucas released his cock.

The dark blond pubic hair was next to attract Lucas' attention, before he kissed a line over the flat belly and swell of his chest. Owen gasped when Lucas teased a nipple with his teeth. Lucas grinned to himself. Owen's nipples were almost as sensitive as his penis. "That's why I don't like wearing shirts," he once said. "They rub against my nips and I get hard. Hell," he laughed. "I can shoot, doing nothing more than rubbing 'em." He'd made a face. "Sorta makes a mess in my pants though," he added, with a mischievous smile," so I don't do it too often."

"Better stop," Owen groaned, keeping his hands away from himself. "I'm gettin' all tingly."

"Y'sure?"

Owen, his eyes closed, rolled his head from side to side. "I wanna shoot in your mouth," he mumbled, "after you take care of that itch I've got inside my butt." He raised his head off the floor and grinned. "Deal?" he asked.

Lucas didn't wait for an answer, but laid on top of Owen, burying his face in the hair of an armpit, then leaving a line of warm kisses up Owen's neck, to his collarbone, his earlobe, and finally ending at his waiting mouth and tongue.

"Plug me," Owen groaned, as Lucas thrust their two erections together. "I need you in me."

Lucas pushed himself to his knees as Owen brought his own knees back to his chest, exposing his smooth pink hole. "C'mon, Lucas," he begged, reaching back and slapping his own butt. "Hurry," he groaned, squirming slightly. When Lucas lapped across the hole with his tongue, Owen gasped with pleasure.

"Stop foolin' around," Owen whimpered. "You're drivin' me up the wall, teasin' me like you are."

"Y'sure you want me inside you?" Lucas playfully asked, dragging the spongy head of his erection over Owen's pulsing hole.

Owen groaned his answer, a trembling sound, full of emotion, as Lucas continued to tease his butthole.

"F'real?" Lucas teased, pushing his cock head part way in, then withdrawing it.

"Yes I'm sure!" Owen shouted. "Fuck me, now! I'm 'bout ready to cum. The first time you slide across my prostate, I'm a goner." After a brief pause he whimpered, "Please, Lucas. I need you in me."

"Well . . . okay," Lucas grinned, needing release as much as Owen. He pushed the head of his dick against the tight opening, watching as the ring of muscle slowly gave way. Once the cock head was in and the sphincter snapped around the shaft of his cock, he slid in, in one smooth movement, until he rested his weight on top of Owen and he began a slow rocking motion with his hips. He felt the sphincter surrounding his cock tighten, milking him in rhythm with each forward thrust.

"Ohhhh fuuuuck,"Owen sighed, as Lucas found his tongue. "Ohhhh, ohhhh fuuuuck." He tightened his embrace, pulling Lucas closer as both men's breathing became ragged.

"Gonna shoot, Cowboy," Lucas grunted a moment before he felt his sperm erupt into the confines of Owen's hole. In perfect timing, Owen arched his back, and shot his own load, never releasing his hug, nor Lucas' tongue.

"Y'happy, Cowboy?" Lucas asked. He rolled onto his back at Owen's side and sucked on his own fingers, after gathering up as much of Owen's jiz as he could.

Owen hummed a sleepy response, snuggling closer. "You have no idea," he answered, his breath light as it touched the hair of Lucas' chest. "You have no idea," he repeated, as he surrendered himself to sleep.

Lucas raised an arm in greeting as Sam entered Sally's restaurant, the meeting place for the entire town. Though it was still spring, the heat of the summer was on its way and he was glad to be in an air conditioned building. He smiled in welcome. "I'm glad you could meet for lunch," he said, as Sam approached the table and smiled in a rare expression of pleasure, which shifted from Lucas to Sally, the restaurant's owner, and, this afternoon, the only waitress.

Lucas watched as Sam visited with Sally, thinking how different Sally's place was from the Italian restaurant near school, and its . . . impressive . . . owner. That place, it seemed, was worlds away from where he was now. Thinking back, he was amazed at how he'd changed since meeting Owen and coming to Riverton. He was growing into the Horton name, a name which meant much back home, and, Lucas vowed, would someday mean something here. He grinned, anticipating the time where instead of being introduced as Neil Horton's son, his father, Neil, would be introduced as Lucas Horton's father. He dismissed thoughts of hubris as he returned his attention to Sam.

He and Owen were the same age, however, slender Sam looked much more boyish. "He was so upset, and I was already feelin' so homesick, I almost didn't leave," Owen had told him one night as they sat side by side, in a darkened apartment, drinking hot chocolate and watching the snow fall. "Sammy . . ." Owen began, then shook his head, turning toward Lucas. "He's just . . . very important to me."

Lucas could not imagine the man he'd come to know, crying and giving Owen a photograph to remember him by. In the intervening months, since Owen had left for school, Sam had changed. It was clear, by the way he reacted to everyone, that he continued to be the sensitive man Owen described, but he'd also become reserved . . . seemingly troubled . . . almost withdrawn.

His voice was soft, as he visited with Sally, almost as if he was afraid of attracting attention to himself by speaking too loud. If his soft voice didn't draw people's attention, his appearance surely would. Sam's dark blue eyes were framed by thick lashes which would be the envy of every woman Lucas knew. Thick black hair fell across his forehead in artful disarray, moving and shifting with each of his movements or a stray puff of breeze. His skin was flawless, his hands large with long, blunt-tipped fingers. When he smiled, his dimples made their appearance, making him appear even younger. Today, he was wearing a light blue polo shirt which clung to his chest and flat belly, and a pair of white jeans which hugged his hips and thighs, and cupped a formidable penis. 'White, the perfect color for a farm boy,' Lucas grinned to himself, unwilling to dwell too much on how wonderful it had been to be in bed with both Owen and Sam. 'The color of his jeans tells me exactly how much farm work Sam actually does.'

"He used to be playful," Owen recently complained, speaking of Sam. "We used to tell each other outlandish stories, down by the river. We'd laugh and carry on, rolling on the grass until our eyes were watering we were laughing so hard." Owen had shaken his head. "Now, he's actin' like an old man, and he's only eighteen!"

Lucas had to admit that Sam had been pretty reserved during his Christmas trip to visit Owen, but that could be explained by being away from home for the first time and being thrust into social situations he was unaccustomed to. 'But now,' Lucas thought, as he watched Sally try to draw Sam out, 'he's in his own environment. He should be the laughing and smiling person Owen always described. Something's going on,' Lucas realized. 'I wonder if Sam is even aware of the change in himself.'

"Bea was tellin' me that your folks are going to be heading home soon, and that your Dad is lookin' really good," he heard Sally say. "I know havin' them back, and healthy, will be a big burden off your shoulders. I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks, Sally," he answered, in his soft voice. "They're not heading home for a while yet, but it's good to know that they'll be back soon. I've found that I miss both of 'em more than I would have imagined." She patted him on the shoulder, smiled at Lucas, then moved to the door to greet some new arrivals.

Sam returned the casual greeting of the newcomers, then returned his attention to Lucas, with an apologetic smile.

"I know we see each other all the time back at your place," Lucas began, "but there's been so much high drama surrounding Owen and Jonah's father, and the conversation with the doctor, the other night, that you and I don't get to talk."

Sam grinned. "I'm feeling the same way. I'm always feeling as if I'm bein' pulled in three different directions, or more . . ." his grin morphed into a smile. "Of course, I'm worrying about Dad and Mom, and how they're doing. I'm trying to keep them up to date about everything going on, but it's not the same for them as bein' here. Now, with school and Jonah n'all," he shrugged. "It's just too much. I feel as if I'm being batted around like a billiard ball, or something." He thought a moment. "Hmm, a billiard ball doesn't get batted, does it?" He shrugged, his thoughts clouding his eyes. "I don't have any control over anything." He shyly grinned. "I guess I must be more of a controlling type of guy than I thought I was.

"Y'know," he added, suddenly intent. "Owen has told me how grateful he is that you were the very first person he met when his plane landed. I'm glad too. I worried a lot about him going off on his own like he did. At least when I went to visit you guys, I could use Owen as a model. If he'd managed the plane trip n'all, so could I. Then," Sam smiled, flashing his perfect teeth, "who do I meet at the airport? The same person Owen did!"

Lucas paused a moment, recalling meeting Owen, then, later, Sam. "May I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Sam nodded.

"I've noticed that you're more quiet than you were when you came out for a visit at Christmas. Owen has commented that you seem so depressed, or something. I'm wondering, if you being quiet has to do with me." Sam's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but was prevented by an upraised hand. "Honesty, Sam. I'm not normally an insecure person, but damn, I don't want you to be unhappy because of me.

"Are you wishing you were partnered-up with Owen and not me? I mean, that was both your and his dream . . . someday, to be together. Now, when Owen's finally back in town, and that dream is a possibility, there I am, a fly in the ointment, so-to-speak. Is that one of the reasons you're more quiet than usual? I know that your father's health is the primary reason, but I can't help but think that my presence may be adding to your problems." Lucas paused. "The doctor may think that getting the four of us guys together and giving us a relationship pep talk will make things run smoothly from here on out, but I don't think it's going to be anything like that. Life . . . and relationships . . . just aren't as simple as the doctor seems to think. Are you comfortable with how things turned out after the doctor's talk?"

Sam laughed. "Whew! So many questions. First though, why would I resent you, or the way things are turning out? Ever since we met, I've considered you to be a good friend. Of course, I knew how well you'd treated Owen, and I could've liked you for that alone. But, then I met you, and I liked you because of you not because of how you'd treated Owen." Sam sat back.

"As for being more . . . subdued," he shrugged, "I don't know what to say about that. Since Owen left for school, things in my life are . . ." he hesitated, "well . . . let's just say, things have been complicated, both mentally and emotionally." Sam stared into the distance, his meal forgotten. "As for the doctor's pep talk, as you call it, I agree with you. The doctor was trying to get the four of us to talk to one another. We sorta did, but, at the same time, we sorta didn't. Nothing was really settled. He seems to think a lot was accomplished, and I'm thinkin' that the four of us went along 'cause we were uncomfortable, or something. I mean, things sounded just fine while we were at his place, but . . ."

Lucas nodded once. "Owen still loves you, you know, and I know, just from watching you, that you still feel the same about him. You can't hide it. Your feelings are written on your face for everyone to see."

"Yeah, well," Sam blushed and bowed his head, tracing a pattern on the checked tablecloth. "Owen's easy to love."

"So are you, you know," Lucas replied. "I've never met a more generous individual. Look at all you've done for Jonah, and your folks. Then, there's Owen. If I'd come into most people's already-established relationships, and took one of the people away, the other would be kicking and screaming."

Sam smiled. "You didn't take Owen away from me, Lucas. He was never mine, no more than I was ever his. If Owen didn't want to be with you, he wouldn't be. He may seem like a person who just goes with the flow. He's not. More'n likely, he's the one to change the flow by stirring things up, t'get people thinking. Sometimes, I'm not sure even he knows what he's doing, it's so subtle. He influences how people behave just by bein' who he is. He's an example everyone who knows him tries to live up to. He's endured so much, yet he continues to smile and laugh." Sam shook his head, drawing himself back to his conversation with Lucas. So . . . leaving all that stuff aside . . . no, I don't resent you. In fact, I'm thinkin' more of you right now than I ever have, for considering my feelings." He blushed. "I'm wishin' we were back home, so I could give you a hug and a kiss, just to show you."

Lucas smiled. "I'll remember you said that, so don't think I won't collect." Sam eyes sparkled as he laughed in one of the first carefree, unguarded moments Lucas had witnessed since arriving in Riverton.

"I look forward to it. Y'know, you make me feel good," Sam grinned. "I enjoy being around you. You're so easy to talk to. I don't feel all stressed bein' with you." He paused. "I like that."

It was Lucas' turn to feel the heat of a blush on his cheeks. "Ever since we met during Christmas," he said, "I've wanted to get to know you better. I'd like to get to know the real Sam, the one Owen talks about all the time; the one who laughs and giggles and is afraid of being tickled." Sam's eyes widened at the mention of being tickled."

"Lucas," Sam said, nodding his thanks to the woman who set his meal on the table. "What's all this talk about me? I assumed, especially after the other night at the doctor's, that I was no longer a part of the picture with you'n Owen."

"Then, you were wrong." He paused. "You will never not be part of Owen's picture, and I'm increasingly hoping you'll always be part of mine." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling means for Jonah, but I'm beginning to feel much as Owen does . . . when he wonders why can't his life include both you and me. I've enjoyed being around you, here in Riverton, but I enjoyed your Christmas visit more. Not just because I finally got to meet you, but because of how much I enjoy being around you. It was great fun, just the three of us, you'n Owen, and me."

Sam smiled. "It was fun . . . both the visit," he paused, "and the time spent in the bedroom . . . and the shower . . . and the living room." He chuckled. "Am I leaving out a room?" Lucas shook his head, beginning, for the first time, to see the laughing, carefree person Owen spoke of. Sam's smile turned pensive. "I enjoyed being with you and Owen in that big ol' bed of yours. When we first started, I was afraid that I might be jealous, seein' you with him, naked n'all, and I guess I probably was, for just a moment. But that all disappeared when I realized that you hadn't staged the sexual encounter to show me how much Owen cares for you. Instead, you were showin' me that you really wanted all of us to be together on an equal basis. Right then, whatever jealousy I was feelin' went straight out the window. You paid as much attention to me as you did Owen, and I don't think any of it was out of a feeling of obligation, knowing you'd have Owen to yourself once I left for home." His smile returned. "I' ve always had great fun when Owen and I were together. Being with you both made things even more fun." He leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "I've masturbated . . . many times . . . thinkin' of the three of us, together like we were." He squirmed slightly. "In fact, the thought has made me begin to stiffen-up."

Lucas laughed. "Oh, dear! We can't have that. With Owen or me it wouldn't be so noticeable, but with you!" Lucas rolled his eyes, pleased with the blush his comments had caused. "Besides, I think you told me that once you get that thing of yours pumped up the only way you can get it to . . ." Lucas looked at Sam from beneath slightly lowered eyelids . . . "to deflate, is to shoot a load, I believe were your exact words. If things get too . . . hard . . . maybe Sally would let you borrow a table cloth or something . . . you know . . . to cover yourself with, when you're running home to take things in hand, so to speak."

Sam laughed without reservation. "You're crazy. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Lucas shook his head. "Nope. In fact, people have always told me that I'm way too serious. I guess you just bring out the best in me . . . or something," he concluded.

"Y'know," Sam spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. "I've never thought that three people in a relationship with one another could work. After experiencing what I did during my Christmas visit, I know I was wrong. Whenever, I'm with Owen, I feel so good, but when you were added into the mix I felt a lot better n'good. I've watched you since you guys arrived, y'know," Sam continued, after a pause. "You're in love with Owen, and you care for me, enough to be afraid of hurting me. You sorta act guilty, as if you don't deserve Owen's affections, or are afraid of me seeing how much he cares for you."

"Are you happy, Sam? I mean really happy, like wanting to stand on a street corner and shout to the world how you feel?"

Sam glanced up, thought a moment, then shook his head. "No, I'm not that sort of happy. I haven't been since . . ." he looked away, then back, his mouth twisting into a semblance of a grin, leaving the thought unvoiced. "Are you . . . happy like that?"

Lucas rubbed his forehead. "I asked for that, didn't I? I mean, I asked you, so it should come as no surprise for you to ask me."

"Why are you not wanting to answer the question?"

Lucas heaved a sigh. "Because, when I tell you that, yes, I'm happy, it'll all boil down to being with Owen, and we're right back to where we started, though there's more to my happiness than Owen. I'm am so happy, here in Riverton, being around Bea, Abigail, Opie, Jonah, and you. I love how I feel free for the first time in my life. I love the opportunities which hover tantalizingly before my eyes. But . . . Sam . . . most of all, I'm happy because you and Owen are in my life." He grinned crookedly. "Sorry for getting all maudlin, but," he shrugged, "it's true. I am so lucky.

"We both are, Lucas," Sam grinned. "Thank you for inviting me to lunch. I'm feeling . . . good."

"Does that mean you won't have to rush home to take care of things?"

"No, there's no rush. In fact, I'm hoping that Owen's home when we get back, 'cause I'm thinkin' I'd like a big group hug."

"And kiss?" Lucas asked, his brows raised.

"Hmm," Sam's eyes sparkled. "Perhaps."

"See'ya Art!" Lucas called as the barber stepped out of the car. The drive back to Riverton had been fun. Lucas had found that Art was a real character; someone he enjoyed being around. Today though, Lucas was especially pleased. He'd purchased the three buildings of Art's. In one step, he became a landowner, and his vision of becoming a businessman, was underway. Now that this first step was out of the way, setting up a business was next.

He had committed himself, and felt as if he was starting on a new adventure. He'd not done everything alone though. He'd spent hours speaking with his father, and the various people his father had put him in touch with, presenting his ideas, his business plan, and modifying both ideas and plan, until he and his "consultants" were pleased. As he had promised, his father had "bought in" to Lucas' plan. He'd assured Lucas that he was not making a donation, in support of his son's project, he was convinced the project could succeed, and he wanted in at the beginning.

"It's exciting!" he'd enthused, during their most recent telephone conversation. "The whole thing is so much different from anything I have ever considered doing. Your mother and I are very proud of what you're about to do, and of your motivations. The town of Riverton has yet to learn how lucky it is to have you as a resident." Lucas' chest swelled, basking in his father's praise. The fact that such praise was given only when it was truly deserved, made him especially pleased.

Once his father had given the thumbs' up signal, Lucas had plunged in and had begun recruiting his friends to become part of the effort.

Jonah had been first, since the entire idea had sprung from his dreams for growing things year-round. Jonah had jumped at the opportunity, but at the same time had appeared daunted by the job. "Why are you giving me all this?" he'd asked. Lucas had laughed.

"I'm not giving you anything, other than an opportunity to do precisely what I've heard you tell everyone were your dreams. They're my dreams too, Jonah." Owen agreed.

"You can do it, Jonah. Between you'n Lucas, and Sam, things around here are gonna change." He'd laughed. "I'd bet that in a couple years, none of us will recognize Riverton."

For his part, Sam had been instrumental in recruiting instructors from the nearby community college, pointing out that they and their students could get hands-on experience by providing both their input and their labor to make the project a reality.

Now, with the purchase of the buildings he had dreamt of, since the first time he and Owen had walked past, the first tangible part of his plan had fallen into place. He could barely contain himself, he was so happy.

Lucas stepped from Art's car, onto the sidewalk in front of his buildings. "Thanks, Art," he said, leaning down to look into the car, where Art was smiling. "I hope you'll be pleased with what I hope to do with your buildings."

"Not mine," Art corrected. "The three ladies belong to you." His smile broadened. "You'll treat them well."

"Count on it!" Lucas called, as the car pulled away from the curb.

The surroundings had taken on a honey-like glow as the sun disappeared behind a distant bank of clouds. In the distance, children could be heard as they played in the park, happy shouts which matched the more subdued happiness Daniel felt as he and Bea left Sally's Restaurant. They strolled, hand-in-hand, greeting other folks who were spending the evening in the same way.

Daniel's low, "hmm," of irritation interrupted Bea's story about her youngest daughter, Opie's crush on Lucas.

"My favorite person in the whole world," he murmured, through a gritting-teeth smile, as he turned in the direction of Maxine, the town's grocery store owner, and lead troublemaker.

It was the first time since her husband's death that either Bea or Daniel had come across the stick of a woman, and seeing her caused the comments Bea's husband had made about the woman, moments before he died, to resurface. "They're all fools," he'd shouted in a wavering voice, into the stifling air of the courtroom. "All sneakin' 'round behind my back, just like Maxine told me they did." She steeled herself for whatever venom the woman might spit.

"Well," Maxine huffed, her hands her hips, as she raked a searing glance over the couple. The man and woman she had been speaking with looked on uncomfortably while their children gaped open-mouthed at the angry woman. "It's finally out in the open," she spat, gesturing to Daniel and Bea's hands and turning back to the man and wife, who smiled apologetically at Bea. "The goody-goody doctor didn't wait but a minute before making indecent proposals to the grieving widow." She paused a moment. "Grieving widow indeed," she derisively snorted. "Probably drove her poor husband to his grave, behaving as she does."

"Why, hello, Maxine," Daniel smiled brightly, the venom the dried-up stick of a woman spat at him rolling off with no effect. "It's been such a long time since we've seen one another." He paused, pleased with the rising color in Maxine's cheeks. It was not often anyone in Riverton talked back to the town's grocer, for fear of being banned from her small store. This evening, Daniel felt as if he'd had more than enough of both the woman's innuendo and outright lies. "I must say though," he continued, returning the slight tightening of Bea's fingers, linked with his own. "I must say," he repeated, "that I'm surprised to see you up and about during daylight hours . . . and walking too!" He glanced around. "Did someone steal your broom?"

"Daniel!" Bea chided, surprised when one of the children who overheard the comment turned to his mother.

"I didn't know Miss Maxine rode a broom, Mama. Does that mean she's a witch?" The boy's mother, blushing furiously, didn't know what to do. At her side, her husband was having a difficult time controlling his smile, while in front of them, Maxine had turned an ugly shade of red.

Before the mother could answer the little boy's sister chimed in. "A'course she's a witch, stupid! Just look at her!"

"Children!" the woman warned, struggling to hide her smile as Daniel and Bea walked on, leaving Maxine sputtering in indignation. "You shouldn't say such things." She gathered her two charges, along with her husband and made a hasty retreat, leaving Maxine to fume.

"She's probably out looking for a job, hoping to hire herself out as a scarecrow," Daniel added, loud enough for only Bea to hear.

"You really shouldn't have said those things," Bea murmured, sneaking a look over her shoulder . . . and in front of people, too!"

"Perhaps," he grinned, drawing Bea closer to him. "But, I don't appreciate anyone making the woman I love into a subject for their sick brand of humor."

Bea stopped. "Love?" she asked, turning to Daniel, her eyes wide. The bruises inflicted by her late husband were healing and she was once again beginning to resemble the beautiful woman Daniel remembered. "Oh, Daniel," she managed to say, on an exhaled breath, sparing only the briefest of glances in Maxine's direction. "Truly?"

Daniel smiled tenderly and nodded once. "I have loved you for years . . . from a distance. You are the only woman I have ever loved, and it about killed me to see how . . . your husband . . . treated you. There was nothing I could do but watch out for you, hoping that, if ever the occasion should arise, I would be able to help." He looked at her with a wry grin. "A fat lot of good my help proved, breaking my arm like I did.

"I guess I had visions of coming to the rescue of the damsel in distress, only to find that I'm not much of a knight, after all."

"Oh,"Bea murmured, as she ran her fingertips over Daniel's cheeks, "but you were my knight, Daniel. You were the man I always thought of when I dreamt of goodness, kindness, and tenderness. In the deepest secret corner of my mind, I have always loved you too . . . my brave knight."

Lucas held the door for Bailey, squinting into the bright sunlight. Bailey, as always, was prepared, and slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses. Lucas had been showing him the spaces he intended to renovate into his and Owen's home. He'd even gone so far as to suggest that Bailey and Corey might use the building next door for their own home. Bailey had appeared interested, but had not committed himself to anything.

"Tell me," Bailey began, as Lucas locked the heavy metal door and lovingly ran a hand over the sandstone wall. "Are you really planning to move here? I can understand you wanting to set up a business, but surely Jonah will be able to run it, after being given adequate training, of course. He's a bright guy. And, Sam will be with him, to lend his expertise. He seems anxious to put into practice some of the things he's learned in school."

He shook his head as they strolled down the sidewalk, passing tubs of bright flowers in front of some of the shops, pausing a moment to greet their owners. "I mean the people are wonderful," Bailey continued, "but . . ." He seemed to search for words, then shrugged. "It's so unlike where we grew up. Can you leave all that you've been reared to be, behind?"

Lucas' smile faded as Bailey spoke. He moistened his lips, trying to organize his thoughts. Bailey was correct. Riverton was vastly different from his childhood home, but there was something equally compelling about the place. He'd been prepared to like the town for no other reason than because it was the place where Owen grew up, but after the first night, he'd realized the town could be appreciated for its own merits. Every day since he and Owen had arrived, he'd become more convinced that this was the place he wanted to be. There was a friendliness and sense of freedom here he'd never experienced.

The friendly people were foremost in his thoughts, mostly Owen's family, of course. He smiled whenever he thought of the times he had sprawled on the living room floor with Owen's little sister, Opie, listening to her talk about the latest picture she was drawing. She would hug him, Owen, Jonah, and Sam each time they prepared to return home after a dinner at Bea's, but she only would kiss him. "I only kiss handsome men," she'd told Owen in a serious voice before breaking into childish giggles. "You've got too many muscles," she told her oldest brother. "Jonah's too skinny, and Sam, he doesn't smile enough." She put her arm around Lucas' waist and snuggled close as he rested a hand on her shoulder. "Lucas is just right," she'd announced, smiling brightly up at Lucas, then at her brothers and Sam, while in the background Bea and Abigail did their best to hide their amusement. Opie had always been so quiet. Now that her father wasn't around, she'd blossomed, possibly more so than anyone else in the family.

'Of course,' Lucas thought, continuing to think of why he loved Riverton, 'Owen's here . . . and Jonah, and Sam. The nights are so quiet, the stars so bright, and the air so clean.'

He studied Bailey who was watching him. "I've found a place where I can grow, Bailey. Living here is not leaving all I've been reared to be, behind. It's taking all I've been reared to be, and putting it to use. It's a place where I can do what I want to do, and be my own man."

"But," Bailey persisted, pausing only when Lucas held up a hand.

"You're correct. It is totally different from home. It doesn't have many of the things I've been accustomed to, things like the symphony, the opera, or the museums. It's a pared-down existence. When I met Owen, I began to question why I needed many of the things I owned. I've begun to realize that living more simply than I ever have can be very satisfying." He held up a hand to forestall the comment he could see forming in Bailey's mind.

"I don't intend to live in a log cabin, Bailey." He glanced toward the buildings he'd fallen in love with. "You've seen the space and heard what I intend. When I'm done my home won't be that much different from your loft, back at school. You could do the same with the building next door. You and Corey would make it into whatever you wish. It's yours, if you want it."

Bailey slowly shook his head. "I'm trying to picture myself here, Lucas. I really am, but I don't know if I can. Even with all the positive things you mention, I still feel as if I'm part of the city."

"What about Corey?" Lucas murmured, studying Bailey through his eyelashes.

"Yeah." Bailey heaved a sigh. "I ask myself that constantly. What about Corey? Would it be fair to ask him to live in the city? Would it be fair to me to be asked to live in Riverton? The answer to both questions, of course, is no. I keep telling, both Corey and myself, that I can make the adjustment to a," he glanced around, "more pared-down existence, but . . ." he shrugged, "I don't know if I can.

"I'm trying to be realistic, Lucas. I've made so many changes, in the past months. I'm different in so many ways from the person you grew up with, but I don't believe I'm different enough to leave everything I've known behind. I want to try, yet I wonder if I try, and then fail, if it'll be worse than never to have tried." He gestured to a wrought iron bench located in the shade of an oak, inviting Lucas to join him. "I dislike not succeeding at something. You know that." His mouth twisted into a crooked grin. "That's one of the reasons I keep pushing myself to reinvent what I am." Bailey lapsed into silence as he watched some laughing children run by.

"He's just so damned decent!"

Lucas blinked, wondering at the conversation's new direction.

"Corey, I mean. I know he's hating having to leave Riverton to go back to school. If it were up to him, he'd stay, but he's only a couple months away from graduating, so he knows if he wants to teach, he can't stay."

"Teach?"

Bailey nodded.

"For some reason, I never knew what he was majoring in. He'll be a good teacher," Lucas added.

"I agree, but I can't envision Corey, the soft-spoken Southern boy, teaching a bunch of inner-city toughs, like he might have to do if he stayed in the city. They'd run right over him, if for no other reason than his accent. Someplace like Riverton would be perfect for him. He can relate to the people here much more than in the city, and they can relate to him. He'd be at home here."

"Are you thinking of calling things off with him?"

"No," Bailey answered, immediately. "Yes . . . I don't know." He sighed. "I want him to be happy, Lucas. I want him to be free to do what he thinks best for himself, without having to consider me. At the same time, I want the same things for myself. I'm beginning to think that the two desires are mutually exclusive."

~ 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