Owen

Owen

Chapter thirty-six

By Roy Reinikainen

"Whoa, Mama!" Corey shouted, as he grabbed onto the pickup door handle for support. "Slow down, Jonah! We're not in a race, for pity's sake. You 'bout took that last corner on two tires!" The pickup hit a pothole causing both men to bounce. Jonah whooped a joyful shout as the truck shuddered over the washboard surface of the road, scattering gravel in all directions and leaving behind a trail of dust which hung in the late afternoon air. "You're trying to hit every pothole in the freaking road," Corey yelped as he bounced off the seat and hit his head on the ceiling of the cab.

"Y'think maybe I should take up race car driving?" Jonah shouted, with a flush of excitement coloring his cheeks as he glanced toward his passenger. "The roads would be better and I could go even faster."

Corey shouted over the sound of the wind rushing past the open windows, and the protest of gravel beneath the tires. "Yeah, well you're not a race car driver, the roads are full of potholes and ruts, and I'm fixin' to lose my breakfast! You're acting like the posse's after you. What's going on? The only time I've ever seen someone drive as fast you are was when ol' man, Barker, back home, high-tailed it after Petie Smith, 'cause he sewed his wild oats in one too many places . . . namely, ol' man Barker's daughter, Sarah Jean. Humph," Corey snorted, wincing as they encountered another pothole, this time throwing him sideways, toward Jonah. He scooted back to his side of the pick up, cursing the lack of seat belts. 'How old is this truck, anyhow?' he wondered. "I think I was the only guy in the county who hadn't plowed Sarah Jean's fields."

"We're there!" Jonah shouted, braking the protesting pickup to a sudden, gravel-flying stop. He hopped out, his laughter bubbling. "I'm free, Corey!" He spun in a circle, his arms extended to his sides, a look of exultation lighting his face. "Can't you feel it? Right now, I'm free!" He stretched his arms out to their fullest extent, tilted his head back and inhaled deeply, as Corey gingerly stepped out of the car on rubbery legs. "I'm free, as in no expectations, no fears of steppin' on someone's toes if I say the wrong thing, or wantin' to laugh when no one else seems to know how. I'm free! Haven't you ever felt so free that you want to cry for the happiness of it all?

"Well?" he asked, stepping to Corey's side. "Haven't you?" he asked, leaning forward and looking up at Corey's bowed, solemn, face.

Corey returned the playful look with a forced, crooked smile. "In one word . . . no, never."

"That's two words!" Jonah crowed, his playful mood refusing to be banished as he jumped out of Corey's reach. "Well," he smiled, once again, tilting his head back and inhaling deeply. "What'll it take to make you feel free n'happy?"

"Moving to Riverton would go a long ways to accomplishing that," Corey answered, puzzled when Jonah dropped his arms and stepped closer, suddenly serious.

"You're thinkin' about doing that? Truly?"

"Why, no laughter?"

Jonah reached out and shyly touched Corey's chest. It was a brief touch, as if he were assuring himself that the man standing close by was real. "I'm thinkin' I'd like to have you livin' here." Jonah blushed. "I'd like to know you better. You're always smilin' and telling jokes n'stuff. I like that. Everyone I know is always so serious, it's depressing. I want to laugh and wrestle, and run through the fields wavin' my arms and smiling with the joy of livin'."

"Wrestle?"

Jonah smiled and nodded. "I love wrestling. Not serious stuff," he added, "but fun wrestling." He looked up, another smile playing with the corners of his lips. "You, by any chance, enjoy wrestling?" he asked, raising his brows.

"Sure, what type? Mud?" Jonah made a face. "Oil?" This time Jonah's expression brightened. "Nude?" Corey's question was answered by Jonah's radiant smile and nod.

"Uuuu yeah. Nekkid, with oil, sounds like something I'd like to try sometime." Jonah ran his hands over his belly and chest in a sensuous movement while humming, deep in his throat. "Sounds really . . . slippery." He barked a laugh then turned on his heels, threw his cap in the air, and began running. "Catch me," he called over his shoulder, as he took off across the field waving his arms wildly, his laughter following him in the still air.

"You're crazy!" Corey called, brushing aside the waist-high plant growth as he ran, trying not to twist an ankle on the uneven surface which Jonah seemed to have no trouble with.

"Yep," Jonah declared, stopping so suddenly Corey nearly tripped over him. "I'm lovin' you not stoppin' me from actin' crazy, or tellin' me to act all grown up. No one's ever allowed me to behave like I want to. 'Course," he added, with a wry expression, "I've never asked. Most'a the time I was too afraid to. Up till now, the way I always behaved was fine. Today, for some reason, it's not. I've always felt . . ." he stared into the distance, searching for the correct word. "Trapped," he concluded. "This is the very first day I can remember, feeling like I can do and be what I want. He grabbed Corey by the shoulders and quickly kissed him on the cheek. "I'm lovin' how I'm feeling right now." He leaned closer, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks pink. "Don't happen to have any oil on you, do you?" he asked, his voice bubbling with good humor before he spun away. "We could get nekkid and slide around on one another," he laughed, turning in a circle, his head thrown back and his arms extended to either side.

"C'mon," he laughed, falling to his knees and pulling Corey with him. "What's it called when one wrestler brings another to his knees? A take down?" He fell to his side dragging the bewildered Corey to the ground. "C'mon, don't just lay there like a limp spaghetti," he crowed. "You can't let me win all the time."

"Win?" Corey laughed, rolling on top of the suddenly unresisting man. He could feel Jonah's rapid breathing . . . and the swell of Jonah's cock pressed against his. 'What am I doing?' he asked himself, wondering at his unwillingness to release Jonah and roll free. He and Jonah were laying in the midst of trampled greenery which surrounded them. He felt Jonah shift position beneath him. 'Both of us are getting hard,' he thought. 'I should stop.' "I didn't know we were serious he murmured," losing himself in Jonah's eyes. "We aren't, are we? Serious I mean?"

"I am," Jonah answered, into the suddenly still air. "I am," he repeated, as he gently pulled Corey's face to his and tenderly kissed him, this time on the lips. "In fact," he murmured, when they separated, "I've never been more serious in my whole life." The words were barely more than a slight puff of air against Corey's ear.

"Oh?" he managed. He'd never felt like he did at the moment, not even with Bailey. 'Oh, Bailey,' he groaned, to himself.

"You set me free," Jonah said, wrapping Corey in a tight embrace. "You treat me as an equal. You're not afraid to laugh." He pulled Corey close, opened his mouth, and tasted Corey for the first time. "You've given me permission to be me. That's something I've hardly ever been allowed to be." Their next kiss lasted longer, one kiss merging into a second, and a third.

"But . . ." Corey began.

"Shhhh," Jonah interrupted. "I don't want to talk about all the reasons what I feel is wrong and won't work. I just want to be here, with you, now. Please," he added. "I'm not asking for anything more than to hold you for a few minutes before we both head back to . . . obligations, expectations, and everything else." He ran his hand up and down Corey's back and through the thick hair at the back of his head.

"I'm thinking . . ." Jonah began.

"Hmm?"

"I'm thinking that, maybe, a little bit, I've set you free, for a few moments, too." When Corey began to respond, Jonah murmured. "Don't say anything. Let's just lay here a while longer and hold one another."

When the sun was eclipsed by a bank of towering clouds, and thunder rumbled, both men finally stood and brushed one another off in silence, then, hand in hand, turned back to the pickup. "I'm sorry you're goin' back to school," Jonah murmured, stealing a look at the man walking next to him wearing a wistful smile. "I feel as if I'm just gettin' to know you. Besides," he added. "You'n I have to work on makin' your laughter be real, and not only skin-deep."

Corey stopped. "You'n I have to work on it? What about Sam?"

"Sam'd want you to be happy too. And free." Jonah moved closer, facing Corey and circling his waist in a loose embrace. "I know what it's like, keepin' part of yourself all locked away, tryin' to pretend things are okay. Both Owen and I got to be good at that." He tightened his embrace and tenderly kissed Corey on the lips. "You and I are a lot alike, y'know." He kissed Corey's neck, then his ear, his cheek, and finally, his lips. "We're both escaping from a past, only to find ourselves trapped in the present."

The car's engine idled as Corey and Bailey passed from one person to the next saying their goodbye's. First, Bea and Daniel, either hugged them or shook their hands, depending who was standing in front of whom. When Corey stood in front of Jonah, he found himself returning a shy smile. He wondered if the pickup ride to inspect the fields, and the subsequent time he and Jonah had spent in one another's arms had left Jonah as troubled as he. Lying in bed that night, with Bailey softly snoring at his side, Corey had attempted to analyze his feelings.

'I didn't have to put on any act for Jonah,' Corey realized. 'No matter how I might have behaved, I believe he would have accepted me. There were no pretenses or false humor to cover anything. No matter how much both Bailey and I try, there is a . . . difference which neither of us can overcome. He was born to money." Corey grimaced into the room's darkness. "I obviously, was not."

Something Lucas had said, in passing, had caught his ear. 'For some reason, I thought Bailey lived at home, and was spending his time at my apartment as a welcome relief from living in his parents' house.' Lucas' offhand comment about how he hoped to make his home, in the buildings he'd just purchased, as sexy as Bailey's loft, had brought home to him the differences between him and Bailey. 'Oh, Bailey's been sweet to not mention his home, but by not mentioning it, it tells me that he is also aware of the inescapable differences between the two of us.' Corey sighed.

'Maybe that's why I feel so . . . at home . . . around Jonah. We come from a similar background. I understand him, and, from some of the comments he made, I believe he understands me.' Corey smiled. 'Laying on top of him, felt completely natural. With Bailey, I'm always thinking that he's analyzing everything he says and every move he makes before he does or says it.' This thought caused Corey to frown. 'Stop it,' he told himself. 'You're not being fair to Bailey. He's reinventing himself. Of course, he's going to have to think things through before he behaves in a way he doesn't wish to. But . . .' Corey sighed, recalling the feeling of Jonah's arms around him, and the feeling of Jonah's tongue against his own. 'But, Jonah isn't striving to become someone new. He is what he is. And,' Corey thought, wondering what it would be like to be with Jonah skin-to-skin, 'and what he is, is wonderful. Not only is as sexy as all get-out, he's a lot like Owen,' Corey realized, 'just more . . . soothing.' He grinned. 'There are no homework assignments with Jonah, just rock-solid acceptance.' With those thoughts, and with Bailey's soft breathing as accompaniment, he fell asleep.

Now, standing in the blazing sun saying their goodbyes, he faced the man he'd dreamt about. "Don't forget. In a couple months, we have a date," Jonah said, with an impish smile. In a lower voice, he added. "I'll bring the oil." When they hugged, Jonah whispered. "Damn good kisser, you are.'

'It must run in the family,' Corey thought, as he turned to hug Sam, then Lucas, and finally, Owen. 'All of 'em are freakin' mind readers! I've fallen into a science fiction story and I'm the only normal person around.' He glanced toward the car where Bailey was waiting. 'Well, I guess I'm not the only normal one,' he grinned.

He shook the doctor's hand once again, thanking him for his hospitality, then turned to Owen. "Thanks for all you've done for me . . . Cowboy." He winked when Owen raised his brows, then smiled at Lucas, before turning toward the car.

Before getting in he turned and looked around the main street. 'I don't want to leave,' he told himself. 'This is home.' He caught Jonah's eye and raised a hand in farewell, then got into the car followed by a chorus of, "good bye, come back soon, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

'Huh?' Corey asked himself. 'Who said that?' He glanced over his shoulder as Bailey slowly drove down Main Street, and saw everyone waving. "You miss it already, don't you?" Bailey asked, gently resting a hand on Corey's thigh, and squeezing. "In little more than a week, Riverton has become your home."

Corey looked at Bailey, with a wan smile. "Yeah, I guess it has. It hasn't become home though. From the moment we drove into town, I felt as if I had returned home . . . the home I always dreamt of." He looked over his shoulder as they passed the water tower at the edge of town, the pangs of homesickness already clutching at his heart.

Owen watched as the car carrying his friends turned a corner at the far end of Scott McKenzie's field, and disappeared behind a grove of large trees, leaving a trail of dust which hung on the still air. "Y'okay?" he asked his brother who continued to stare down the road lost in thought.

From where he stood, talking with Lucas, Bea, and Daniel, Sam watched Owen step closer to his brother, and sighed. 'Jonah's not been acting, like usual since Owen and Lucas came home, and since the doctor's little conference he's been even more withdrawn.' Sam had attributed the moodiness to the discussions Jonah had been having with Lucas about some greenhouses Lucas wanted to build. Bea had agreed to the use of some of her farmland for the new buildings, and Lucas had asked Jonah if he would manage them.

Sam was sure Jonah would be thrilled, and, at some moments, he did seem excited by the prospect of his dream of farming year-round coming true. Then, just as suddenly, he would become withdrawn, and would wander out into the newly planted fields, by himself. He'd been spending a lot of time out in the fields recently. "I'm just thinking," he responded, when Sam asked what he was doing. Sam wanted to do something to break Jonah out of his funk, but . . . he shrugged. He didn't know what.

He watched as Owen spoke to his brother. 'Owen's aware of everything. He's always there to listen.' Sam shook his head. 'It should have been Owen, Jonah turned to. He would have known what to do to help. Me . . .' he softly snorted, 'I tried to do the right thing and look at this . . . tangle . . . I created. Jonah's obviously not happy. I'm . . .' Sam snorted a soft laugh. 'It's been so long, I'm not exactly sure what happiness is.'

Owen asked again, "Y'okay?"

Jonah turned to him with a crooked smile. "Yeah, sure. I was just thinking about Corey saying he wanted to come back to Riverton. Y'think he will?"

Owen shrugged. "I know he wants to, but I don't think Bailey will want to. Oh, he's doing his best to try and figure out what he can do if he does come back, but I don't see it happening. And, if he did follow Corey back, I don't think he'll stay long." Owen glanced down the road. "It's all going to boil down to how committed they are to their relationship." Owen laid an arm over his brother's shoulders.

"Let's take a little walk so you can tell me what's really bothering you." He returned Jonah's glance. "You've not been yourself since Lucas and I came to town. Tell me truthfully, are you upset about something?"

"Naw." Jonah stooped and picked up a twig, then turned to his brother. "Owen, I'm feeling all . . ." he shrugged, "I don't know. It's hard to explain. Things . . . everything is going so well, yet I'm not really happy. Mama's laughing all the time, holding hands with Daniel. Lucas, bless his soul, has dumped my fondest dream in my lap. I'm with Sam, the man who showed me kindness at a time I needed it badly. You're here." He turned to Owen and smiled. "That's the best thing in everything going on in my life, right now, you, being here." Jonah paused and turned to his brother.

"I missed you so much, Owen . . . when you were away at school. I had that ol' bed all to myself, and I hated it." He grinned. "Y'know, I wouldn't let Mama wash the pillow case on your pillow, for the longest time, just 'cause it still smelled like you. I'd hug that pillow, imagining it was you, and I didn't feel so alone. I never realized how much you mean tome until you weren't there.

"But," he swiped at his eyes which were threatening to overflow, "I was alone . . . and," he sniffed, "I sorta feel like I still am." Jonah abruptly threw the twig away and looked at his brother with a crooked smile. "Y'know, I thought getting away from Pops would make things okay. It didn't. Then, I thought being with Sam would make everything okay, but, nope."

He snorted. "The main problem is, that I don't have much of an idea about what it would take to make me happy."

"You have some ideas though?" Owen asked.

Jonah nodded. "A few," he grinned, crookedly.

When the silence stretched to the breaking point, Owen finally spoke. "And . . ."

"Damn it, Owen," Jonah said, rounding on his brother. "I'm feeling as if Sam is another friggin' father!" Jonah looked away, then back. "I don't need a father, I need a person who can laugh and joke . . . someone to have fun with. He's so . . . so . . . serious, all the time. It's like he's holding something back. He wasn't always like that. I remember him and you laughing so hard you almost cried. What happened?" Jonah asked, his voice rising. "Is he feeling like he's livin' with the wrong brother?"

Owen sprawled on the sofa looking up at the ceiling of the doctor's living room. He had been spending so much time here he was beginning to think of the doctor's place as his second home. Only days earlier he and Lucas had lain in one another's arms in front of the fireplace, which, today, was unlit.

"It's not working Daniel," he shouted, to the man in the kitchen linking his fingers behind his head.

"What isn't?" Daniel shouted from where he was rummaging in the refrigerator.

"Your relationship idea," Owen shouted back. "It's not working like we all thought it would."

Daniel straightened, the carton of orange juice in his hand forgotten for the moment. When Owen didn't say anything more, he absently poured two glasses of orange juice and walked back to the living room. "Why do you say that?" he asked, as he lowered himself onto a chair. The majority of his immobilizing cast had been removed, leaving an inflatable restraint which needed to remain for a couple more weeks. He studied Owen, who lay on the sofa, his eyes closed. As usual, one corner of his t-shirt was stuffed into the back pocket of his shorts, and draped over the front of a sofa cushion, red and white stripes, as much a trademark of the young man as his disheveled short blond hair.

"Owen," the doctor continued, when it appeared his guest was going to remain silent. "Are you unhappy?"

"No, and yes." Owen rolled his head to the side and looked at the doctor. "I'm as happy with Lucas as I could ever hope to be. He's wonderful. A little distracted at the moment, with all the plans for the apartment and setting up a business and everything, but wonderful. I'm unhappy though 'cause I don't see nearly enough of Sam, and when I do see him, it's as if I'm seein' someone I don't know."

Owen sat up and reached for the glass of orange juice Daniel had set on the coffee table. He raised the glass in a thank you toast, then drank deeply, remaining silent, as if deciding how to proceed. "I don't know what's goin' on with him, or with him and Jonah. He's been quiet too . . . sorta preoccupied.

"He did say somethin' though which has kept me awake the last couple nights." Owen absently chewed on his lower lip, then glanced at the doctor. "He was talkin' about Sam, commenting on how he's so serious all the time." Owen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Doc, he thinks that Sam feels like he's livin' with the wrong brother. Those are his words."

Owen flopped back with a disgusted sound. "Damn it, Daniel! I'm the cause of everyone's unhappiness. If I hadn't . . ."

"Hey!" Daniel interrupted, cutting Owen off with a single, loud, demand. "Stop it! Life is complicated . . . for everyone, not just for you guys, and you certainly are not the cause of anyone's problems. If you hadn't gone off to school, who knows how things would have turned out?" He speared Owen with a penetrating glance. "Lucas would not have become involved in the equation, and I'm certain that you would be miserable because you'd be thinking that you were being held in Riverton against your will. If you were unhappy, Sam would be unhappy. And," Daniel paused, "where would Jonah be? He'd most likely be all confused about his sexuality, and would be hanging around home, wondering what to do with his life.

"Owen, can't you see how much better everyone's life is because of your having left? You went off to school, and, in the course of things, met Lucas." Daniel held up a hand, asking for Owen to remain silent until he'd finished speaking. "You being away gave Jonah the opportunity to find himself, and for Sam to mature. He's a different man today Owen, from the one who cried because you were leaving. Living on his own and going to school have done a lot toward making him mature, as has having a relationship with Jonah, and, of course, working with Scott McKenzie to manage his folks' farm while his father tends to his problems.

"When you returned, with Lucas, everyone's life did become more complicated, but not because of your actions. Everyone's options widened. You and Lucas have brought a new energy to the town. People are talking about how much better Riverton is going to be. They can feel it, Owen. Lucas' excitement is contagious. You can feel it too, if you stop to think for a moment. I mean, just look at what's going on. Those three buildings are being spruced up. Lucas and Jonah are talking about building greenhouses and growing things year-round. The community college and some of their students are going to use those greenhouses as a teaching experience. Just think what that's going to do to Jonah, and to Riverton!"

The doctor leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. "Owen, what you've really been talking about though is you being unhappy because you and Sam don't have the same sort of relationship you had before you left for school. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Owen mumbled, unwilling to meet the doctor's gaze. That's some of it, but not all. Damn it, Daniel! I hate it when everyone's so wound up worryin' about everything. Lucas is the only one who doesn't seem to be bothered by anything.

"Then do something for pity's sake! Do exactly what you would recommend to anyone who came to you and talked about the same problems you're experiencing."

"What? What can I possibly do?"

"You're not happy, right?"

"No, that's not right. I'm happy, just not like I would be with Sam."

"You would like to be living with Sam instead of Lucas?

Owen's eyes widened. "No! That's not what I want. I just want more than Lucas, and I think . . . no, I know that Lucas feels about Sam much the same as I do. But, Daniel, Riverton's having a difficult enough time becoming accustomed to all this . . ." He raised his arms out to his sides, then dropped them. "To all this . . . I don't know . . . gayness, I guess would be the right word. Maxine's telling people we're here to corrupt the town's children and, by Lucas remodeling his buildings, that we'll be doing our, 'dirty deeds,' right on main street." The doctor snorted his opinion of Maxine, and any of her opinions. "Besides," Owen continued, "If I tell Sam how I feel, that'd be like trying to break up his and Jonah's relationship. I couldn't do that!"

Daniel shook his head.

"If you're not happy . . . because you're not with Sam," Daniel added, quickly, and if you say Jonah's not happy, because of who knows what . . . and if Sam's not happy, what do you have to lose? Hell, Owen! All of you guys have so much going for you. You, at least, claim to know what you want, so . . . why continue to be unhappy? Talk to Sam. Talk to Jonah. Talk to . . . whomever!" he almost shouted. "Just do something!"

Corey leaned his head back against the airplane seat headrest, his emotions in turmoil. 'What did Jonah mean when he said that he was happy I wanted to return to Riverton, perhaps permanently? On the face of it, it sounds as if he isn't happy in his new relationship with Sam. His comment about both he and I escaping from the past, only to be trapped in the present can be taken so many ways.' Corey softly snorted. 'And, damn if he isn't like his brother! Both of them are freaking mind readers. I know that no one told Jonah about my childhood, yet somehow he knew.' Corey closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the distractions surrounding him.

'So . . . he, somehow . . . knows about my past, and that I thought coming to college was an escape. He just escaped the tyranny of his father. So, what does he mean that we're both trapped in the present, unless he's referring to being unhappy in his relationship. But that means that he thinks that I'm unhappy in my relationship with Bailey.' Corey thought of the man at his side. Bailey was a wonderful man, the only person, in fact, that he'd ever been drawn to . . . until Jonah.

'Damn it!' Corey thought, to himself. 'I didn't even think I was attracted to Jonah . . . until he kissed me. Then,' Corey mentally shrugged, 'I saw him as someone other than Sam's partner. And . . . we kiss . . . and we both got hard . . . and, he wouldn't release my hand, as we walked back to the pickup. And . . . the drive back to town was completely different from the hair-raising drive from town.' It was only now, that Corey had considered the root of Jonah's reckless happiness.

'Could it be that he was acting like he was because his father was no longer in the equation and that he was away from Sam . . . and was with . . . me?'

Corey felt Bailey stir, next to him. The airplane's nighttime lighting and the drone of the engines had lulled Bailey to sleep. 'What am I going to do?' Corey asked himself. 'What is it I want?'

Without a conscious thought he knew the answer. 'I want Riverton. Being there felt like coming home. Whatever else I want has to stem from that single thing. Riverton is home. Riverton is where I want to live.' Corey bowed his head, his lips thinning into a line. 'Would Bailey be happy in Riverton, or would he always long for the city, just as I would always long for Riverton if I had to stay in the city? Do I want to return to Riverton merely because Jonah's there?' Corey thought for a moment. 'No,' he answered. 'I want to return even if Jonah remains with Sam.' Corey tried not to squirm in his seat. 'But, if I leave Bailey in the city so I can return to Riverton, only to have Jonah remain with Sam, that would leave me being in a town I love, with no one to love.

'Life isn't fair,' Corey thought, not for the first time. 'I go through almost all my life not caring for anyone, and having no one caring about me. Now, I have feelings for two people, and two people seem to have feelings for me.' He watched Bailey sleep. 'What am I gonna do?'

"Mama!" Opie shouted, running into the living room as Bea and the doctor walked into the house, holding hands, walking shoulder-to-shoulder. Opie came to a skidding stop on the polished wood floor, the rug bunching up in front of her.

"You're holding hands!" she said, her eyes wide, and a smile blossoming on her face. In the next move, she ran to the doctor and threw her arms around his waist and pulled him to her. "You gonna make my mama happy, doctor?" she asked, with her face buried against him. "She needs to be happy." Opie reluctantly released her grip on the doctor and took his free hand.

"You guys gonna get married, or something?" she asked, looking from the doctor to her mother, then back to the doctor. "You could come and live here," she cried. "We've got lots and lots of room for all your stuff." She held open a closet to display exactly how much room. When she turned to look into the closet and realized how full it was, she slammed the door. "We've got lots of junk we can throw out if we don't have room for all your stuff," she added, brushing her hands together as if all the arrangements had been completed.

"Hey Abigail," she shouted, running from the room at top speed. "Abigail, Mama and the doctor are gonna get married, or something! We've just figured out that we need to clean a couple closets to hold all his junk. Let's get busy!"

In the distance, the astonished adults looked at one another, as Abigail's bedroom door opened to an exclamation of, "what!?"

"Well . . . Daniel said, turning to Bea. I'd hate to let Opie down." The corner's of Bea's mouth twitched. "Would you marry me, Bea?" he asked. "Please."

Bea melted into the doctor's embrace. "Oh, yes, Daniel," she murmured, close to his ear. "I would love to marry the man who has watched out after me for so many years. My white knight," she murmured, as their lips met and both Abigail and Opie came careening into the room.

"See! I told 'ya!" Opie screamed, in her sister's direction, pointing to the kissing couple, as she began running around the living room waving her hands in the air. "Mama's gettin' married!" she chanted, over and over. On her third circuit around the room she abruptly stopped in front of the smiling adults.

"Does this man I'm gonna be a big sister any time soon? I'd really like to be a big sister, 'ya know."

"Opie!" Bea laughed, astonished by her daughter's excitement. "Daniel's only just asked me to marry him. Other . . . things, will have to wait."

Opie rested her fists on her hips. "Well . . . hurry up! We've waited long enough." She turned to her older sister, "Huh, old girl?" she laughed, jumping out of Abigail's reach, with a childish screech of excitement.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Opie continued, jumping up and down. "I've gotta go tell Owen and Jonah, and Lucas and Sam." She ran out of the house, leaving the screen door to slam behind her. "And the whole world!" she continued shouting, as her voice faded into the distance.

Sam jumped at the touch on his shoulder. The noise and conversations of the craftspeople quitting for the day had prevented him from hearing anyone's approach. As he'd promised Bailey, he'd been overseeing the workers, trying to answer their questions, and keeping in touch with Bailey on a daily basis, keeping him apprised of the progress on his secret project. "I don't even know what this place is gonna be," he told one of the workers who asked about the building's future. "It's a surprise. That's all I know. I'm here to follow instructions and see that things get done, in time. In time for what, I don't know." He shrugged, and smiled.

"Oh, hi'ya, Owen," he smiled, doing his best to ignore the fluttering in his chest which happened every time he saw Owen. They'd been living in the house since Owen and Lucas had returned from school, but, even so, there was a . . . distance . . . that neither had been able to completely cross. "Lots of noise, huh?" he asked, gesturing toward the freshly painted porch surrounding the brown brick structure.

"What's it gonna be?" Owen asked, as the heavy front door closed behind them.

"Bailey's building," is all I know," Sam replied. "He gives me orders, and I follow 'em," Sam continued. "You know . . . tear down this wall. Add a wall here. Paint this white, and this brown. He's full of instructions. I speak to him almost every day." Sam perched on the porch's railing. He wanted to talk to Owen . . . to hold him. 'But, that'll make my life . . . and Owen's . . . more complicated than they already are.' He tried to smile at his boyhood friend.

"Lucas is all full of ideas," Owen mumbled, looking anywhere but at Sam. "He's rushin' to get a place to live carved out of one of those buildings." He sighed. "When he finishes, I guess that means I'll be movin' out of your folks' house." The muscles of his jaw tightened.

It was Sam's turn to look away. "Yeah, I guess." He looked up. "Owen . . ." At the same time Owen spoke.

"Sam . . ." They smiled, for having stepped on one another's conversation. Owen gestured for Sam to continue, but, after a few moments, Sam shook his head. The moment to tell Owen exactly what he was feeling had passed.

Owen's smile faded. "Same here," he murmured. "Well, I guess I'll be going." He looked down the length of main street. "I think I'll head down to the river. I need to do some thinking." He stood, and allowed himself the freedom to squeeze his friend's shoulder, then turned, and walked down the steps, the bright sunshine making his blond hair seem to shine.

The background hum of insects momentarily halted as Owen leisurely strolled across the green field of grass at the edge of town, breaking small pieces off of a dry stick and casually tossing them away. He paused, shielding his eyes as he looked up at the water tower. Somehow the faded paint of the town's name didn't look as forlorn as it had the previous summer. 'Lots has changed,' he thought. 'It's not the water tower that's different, it's me.'

He slipped his t-shirt off, playfully teased a nipple, then wiped his forehead and chest. 'I wanna be naked,' he thought to himself as he tucked the shirt in the waistband at the back of his cut-off jeans, thinking of the heat of the coming summer months, and how wonderful it had been when he and Sam had spread a blanket out on the grass and spent the afternoon. He turned toward the trees at the edge of the river, feeling the sun on his back. 'Now that I've experienced a real winter, I don't think I'll think I'll ever complain about the heat again.' He grinned crookedly and shuddered, recalling how the hair on his legs had frozen to his pant legs. 'Winter! Ugh. A guy never sees the bad things about winter by lookin' at Christmas cards, that's for sure. Everyone's always smiling as the snow is gently falling. No one's shivering, walking through hurricane force winds with the snow falling sideways.'

He made his way along the undergrowth at the river's edge, looking for the special place, not his and Sam's, but a place he'd often visited on his own, sometimes lying naked for hours, in the dappled shade cast by the overhanging trees. He smiled as he pushed aside a curtain of leaves and climbed out onto a large flat rock, startling a frog which leapt into the water with a wet plop and a splash, wetting a spot at the edge of the rock.

Owen put his hands on his hips and surveyed the surrounding scenery. In a month or so, the river would be lower and it would be easier to get to his and Sam's meadow, now partially hidden by the spring undergrowth. By then, the honey-scented yellow flowers would be blossoming, and at night, there would be fireflies. He grinned, thinking of the darting pinpoints of light among the branches of the trees.

'Sam always claimed . . .,' Owen began, then halted, and sank to sit cross-legged at the edge of the stone, the water only inches away. 'Aw, Sam', he sighed, 'So much has changed, yet, at the same time, so much remains the same. Lucas fit right in, but here I am, still the round peg trying to fit into a square hole. Is it just me? Am I expectin' too much? Should I lower my goals?" Owen made a sound of annoyance. "What goals? Now that I'm not in school, I have no goals. Hell, even when I was in school, I didn't seem to really know what I was wantin'. Just goin' along with the flow . . . just like this river.'

Owen pried off his tennis shoes and set them by his side as he dangled his feet in the cool water. "You're the key, Sam. Somehow, I don't know how, I feel like you're the key to everything, but now,' Owen sighed, digging in the back pocket of his shorts, pulling out the photograph of him and Sam, 'I hardly ever see you. I might as well be back at school. Are you avoiding me? Owen paused, reluctant to voice his next thought. 'Am I avoiding you? And if the answer to either of those questions is yes, then I have to ask, why?'

He twisted to look over his shoulder toward the meadow. "Ah, Sammy," he asked, aloud. "What's happened to us?" Owen studied the photograph. As always, he rubbed his thumb over the image. The feel of the slick paper somehow soothed him. He felt . . . close . . . to Sam, whenever he touched the photograph . . . comforted . . . as if Sam were at his side, just as in the picture.

'Is the doctor right?' he asked himself, watching a fish leap out of the water to nip a low-flying dragonfly. 'Am I tryin' to hold on to the past? Is that what this photograph represents to me? Am I not gonna be able to really let go of you . . . and what we had, until I can let go of this photograph?' He heaved an exhausted breath. 'The bigger question is, do I really want to let go of the past? Can I let go of you? Is it possible that the doctor didn't see things the way they really are, but the way he thinks they should be? I wonder how you feel. I'm thinkin' that you're troubled by something, you're so quiet. You used to laugh and have fun. Since I've been back you seem like a different person.' Owen stared, unseeing into the distance. "Aren't you happy, Sammy?" He paused a moment, lost in thought. "Am I happy?" He didn't need to think to know the answer. "Yes, I'm happy. I'm with Lucas. I'm with Mama, and the girls, and Jonah. The only thing that would make things better would be for you'n I to have what we once had.' He watched the leaves above him tremble in the slight breeze. 'Is havin' what we once had even possible?'

Owen replaced the photograph in his pocket then lay back, supporting his head on folded arms, and stared at the faint wisps of clouds streaking the sky. 'Why can't I have both the past and the present? Why does it have to either, or? Why is treasuring the past a bad thing? You're gone from my life . . . and . . .," Owen hesitated, "I miss . . . you. A smile from you isn't enough, nor an infrequent touch. Not nearly enough.'

"Why?" Owen asked, aloud. "Whyyyyy?, he shouted, at the top of his lungs, his fists clenched at his sides, then lowered his voice and asked a third time. "Why?"

~ 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