Owen

Owen

Chapter forty-four

By Roy Reinikainen

It was a beautiful day for the wedding of Doctor Daniel Johnson and Bea Carver. The sky, a deep blue, stretched from horizon to horizon. The lush green of the park was draped with dappled shade cast by the park's huge oaks, and dotted with a profusion of colors. The townspeople, dressed in their best, were hovering around the newly painted, white bandshell, where Bea, Daniel, and the minister were standing.

Owen's eyes filled with tears, as his mother and Daniel kissed. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes, returning Lucas' look of concern with a crooked smile, as he wished his mother well. "Be happy, Mama. You deserve all the happiness you can get."

Unlike his older brother, Jonah's eyes were dry, though he was no less moved by his mother's happiness. As she and Daniel stood before the silent crowd, he recalled the emotionally bruised and battered woman who had endured her husband's verbal abuse, using herself as a shield to protect her children as best she could. That woman had ceased to exist, and had been replaced with the vibrant woman who stood before him. 'I love you, Mama,' he thought. 'Thank you for all you've done for us . . . for me.'

Jonah and Owen's sister, Abigail, dabbed at her eyes. She, perhaps, more than anyone else, knew what her mother had endured while married to Jonathan. In those rare moments when she was alone with her mother, and her father wasn't shouting about something, she learned of the frustrations and fears the older woman faced. She always wondered why her mother never said anything against her father, the man who tormented her mother daily. "Aren't you angry with him?" she once asked. Her mother sadly smiled, the antique rocking chair on which she sat, rhythmically creaking with her slow movements.

"No, sweetheart, I'm not angry at him. I am afraid for him."

"Afraid for him?" Abigail asked. Somehow, she'd have been more comforted to have her mother be as angry as she, at the way her father treated every member of the family. Her mother had brushed a strand of hair away from her face as she spoke, her weariness evident in every movement.

"Yes, dear. I'm afraid for him, because I truly do not believe he is aware of what he's doing. I'm also afraid for you and Opie." The slight squeak of the rocking chair was the only sound as Bea paused. "I am thankful, though, that he has never turned against either you or your sister." There was a lengthy pause. "Has he?"

Abigail had bowed her head. "No, Mama. He's never touched either of us." The young lady paused, flicking a glance at her mother. "But, just because he hasn't touched either of us, does not make his behavior . . . acceptable. If he had, I would not have endured in silence, like Jonah and Owen."

"They had their reasons, sweetheart," Bea murmured, staring into the distance. "Personal ones." She smiled, wearily. "In many ways, both boys are as stubborn as their father. They couldn't allow him to see how deeply they were hurting inside because of his behavior. All of us, in this family, are stubborn in our own ways. We have had to be, just to survive.

"Sweetheart . . . your father's actions have left scars on all of us, but we can't let his actions change what type of person we are . . . deep down." Bea turned, suddenly intent. "Abigail, if you give it a chance, anger will eat at you until there is nothing left but a dry husk. Try your best not to be angry with your father, dear. Your anger will not change his behavior, and, in the end, will only harm you. Instead, do your best to try to understand what is happening to him. I'm not asking you to forgive, or forget, only to try to understand.

"You're aware that I have arranged for my sister, your aunt Kathy, to take in you both, should things worsen?" Abigail nodded. "Perhaps I'm being selfish, but I don't want to lose you girls. Now that Owen's away at college, and Jonah has been driven away," Bea took a ragged breath, "you and Opie are all I have left." She smiled her gratitude, as Abigail took her hand and sat quietly, as her mother lapsed into a silence.

The plan to have Abigail and Opie move to their aunt's house in Evanston, had never happened. Only days after she and her mother's conversation, her father had lost control, and the Doctor . . . Daniel . . . had come to her mother's rescue.

'The poor man. He ended up being hurt more than Pops. I don't believe there is anything he wouldn't do for Mama.' Abigail smiled, as she watched her mother hold Daniel's hand while they exchanged marriage vows. 'Mama is so full of love. She's lavished it on Opie, Owen, Jonah, and me. Now, she has someone who can return her love in ways none of us kids can. I'm happy for you, Mama.' She looked down at her younger sister, who gently tugged on her hand.

"I can't see what's happening," Opie whispered, when Abigail leaned down to see what the problem was. When she picked her younger sister up, the little girl was unusually silent as she watched her mother. "Now," she finally said, turning to Abigail, "Mama can be happy. I'm glad."

"Me, too, Opie," Abigail murmured. "Me, too."

The ceremony had concluded, and the party had begun, as Daniel and Bea greeted well wishers. At Bea's side, stood five men, and two girls. "My family," she announced proudly, when Charlie, one of Daniel's brothers, asked who everyone was. "This is Owen and Jonah," she announced, full of maternal pride, tenderly touching each one as they were introduced.

She then gathered in the three other men, who were standing nearby, with a welcoming gesture. "And these two handsome young men are Owen's partners, Sam, and Lucas. And this is Corey," she said, turning a fond smile in his direction. "He's my son Jonah's partner.

"And these are my beautiful daughters," Bea added, affectionately resting a hand, first on Opie's shoulder, then Abigail's, introducing each by name. "I have been truly blessed," she smiled, "to have such a wonderful family." She turned a loving smile on her new husband. "Now, I have been doubly blessed, to be married to such a special man."

"Partners?" Daniel's brother's wife, Grace, murmured, glancing over her glasses at the five handsome men, who were now visiting with another well-wisher. Bea's oldest son, Owen, had hoisted a young dark-haired boy to his shoulders.

"Whoa, Nicky," he laughed. "When'd you get to be so tall?" The little boy giggled uncontrollably, then leaned forward and kissed the top of Owen's head. When Owen saw Daniel's brother and sister-in-law watching him, he walked over, carefully steadying the little boy on his shoulders.

"Mister and Mrs. Johnson, I'd like you to meet my best buddy, Nicky."

"Hi!" The little boy released his grip on Owen to wave a greeting with one hand. "Owen's almost my big brother," he announced. "He's teaching me to read!" he added, proudly. "I know big words, huh, Owen?" he asked, craning forward in an attempt to look Owen in the face, then looking back at the doctor's brother with an impish smile.

"He comes over almost every day, after tending to Sam's Papa, just so we can read. Sam's Pops has been sick, so Owen's helping out," Nicky added, in a serious voice. "Just like you helped out when I was sick n'all, huh, Owen?" He absently ran his fingers through Owen's short hair. "I don't re . . . remember much," he said, soberly. "I was real small, then. But, I do 'member Owen carrying me, telling me everything would be okay, and the hurts would go away soon." Nicky leaned forward and, again, kissed the top of Owen's head.

"You're a busy man, Owen," Charlie Johnson smiled, moved by the little boy's description of Owen's care. "My brother mentioned how much he depended on you when his arm was broken."

"I only helped out, both with Daniel, and with Nicky. The little fella's folks needed a rest, so I lent a hand, sitting with him at night, so they could get some sleep."

"Now, I'm all better!" Nicky shouted. "Yaaaaayyyy!" He pumped an arm in the air.

"Look how tall I am, Mama," he shouted, from his high perch, to the couple who were approaching.

"Mister and Mrs. Johnson," Owen began. "These are little Nicky's folks, Will and Peggy Saunders."

"He's Doctor Daniel's brother," the boy announced to his parents.

"Your son seems to think the world of Owen," Charlie Johnson smiled, wishing his wife would wipe the sour expression off her face, as she watched the young man and laughing child.

'She's going to make a scene,' Charlie inwardly groaned. 'I just know it.'

Nicky's father glanced toward his son, who was now playing with Owen's short hair, asking if he was going to be bald, like an egg. Owen merely laughed, excusing himself, then walked away to join another group of people, all of whom greeted him and Nicky warmly.

"Everyone who's ever met him, thinks the world of Owen." Will Saunders, responding to Charlie Johnson's observation, cast a fond glance toward where his son's laughter could be heard. "Y'know," Will continued, turning back to the doctor's brother and his wife. "I've never known someone like Owen. He is always smiling, always polite, always asking to lend a hand."

"Yet, he likes boys," Grace Johnson muttered, with a sniff, ignoring her husband's outraged expression, and his hiss of, "Grace!" Charlie Johnson took his wife's arm, and squeezed, while doing his best to apologize to Nicky's parents, with his eyes.

"Mrs. Johnson," Peggy Saunders began in a no-nonsense tone. "Owen is full of love. Just because he is emotionally attracted to men, does not mean he will behave inappropriately around Nicky, or anyone else. What he feels for Lucas and Sam in no way differs from what Will and I feel toward one another." She went on, conversationally, noting Charlie Johnson's white-knuckled grip on his wife's arm. "Owen loves Nicky, as he would his own brother. And Nicky," her voice softened, "could not ask to have a more kind-hearted and caring person as a friend, even if they truly were brothers."

Grace Johnson responded to a slight, attention-getting, shake of her arm, with an irritated glance toward her husband, then at the firm grip he had on her arm. "Listen to the woman, Grace," he said, through his teeth. "I believe Mrs. Saunders and her husband are showing remarkable restraint in responding to your insult, to them, and their son's, friend."

"Owen is the most tender, kind-hearted, and loving person I've ever had the good fortune to know," Peggy Saunders continued. "He helps when others only think of helping. He never asks anything in return, and he keeps on helping . . . not only us but everyone. As far as my husband, Will, and I are concerned, Owen is as close to a saint-on-earth as we are ever likely to meet."

"Okay, Peg," Will murmured, touching his wife's arm, aware, as she was not, of the people who were quietly watching. "I'm sure Mrs. Johnson understands the depth of our feelings."

"Not only ours, Will!"

Will Saunders smiled at his wife. "I know, Peg. If Mrs. Johnson does not believe us, all she needs to do is ask any of these folks what their thoughts are about Owen." He gestured to the silent onlookers. "I'm confident she will receive the same answer. I am thankful, though, that Owen was not close enough to hear the kind lady's comments."

"Thank you. Thank you both." Charlie Johnson did his best to smile. "I've heard my brother wax poetic about the young man, and what a great help he was when Daniel's arm was broken. It was a pleasure to finally meet him and his partners." He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the people who were still standing nearby. "And . . . please . . . forgive any distress we may have caused you." He flicked a glance in his wife's direction. "Have no fear, the narrow-mindedness will be addressed."

"Hi," a young girl said, smiling up at the doctor's brother and sister-in-law. Peggy Saunders laid a tender hand on the girl's shoulder.

"This is, Ophelia . . . Opie. She's Owen's youngest sister."

Opie soberly shook hands with the two people she'd been introduced to. "I heard you talking about Owen," she said, meeting Grace Johnson's eyes. She turned her attention to the doctor's brother. "If you haven't gotten some food yet, I'll show you where it is. There's candy, too, but we're not supposed to eat it until after dinner. So, we'll have to wait for that." She took Daniel's brother by the hand, and motioned for the man's wife to follow.

"Let's go see what there is to eat. I'll . . . troduce." She frowned, unable to think of the word.

"Introduce?" Charlie supplied.

"Yeah, that," Opie nodded, looking up at the adult, with a smile. "I'll introduce you to people, too," she continued, her voice fading into the general conversation, as Grace Johnson trailed her husband and the young girl, absently rubbing her arm and appearing slightly dazed by the reaction her comment had caused.

"Has my sister-in-law been causing trouble?" the doctor asked Will and Peggy Saunders, as he quietly approached, hand-in-hand, with his wife. Daniel glanced in the direction the couple in question had gone, doing his best to hide an expression of distaste. "As Corey would say, 'Just being in the same room with that woman would turn milk sour.'"

Peggy Saunders' cheeks were still flushed with anger. "I'm sorry to say it, Daniel, but that woman is so narrow-minded, she can see through a keyhole, with both eyes."

"Why, Peg!" her husband laughed. "Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are when you're riled up?"

Peggy playfully slapped her husband's hand, smiling her apologies to Daniel.

"Every family has their own version of my sister-in-law," the doctor murmured. "I'm only sorry that my brother's the one who's been saddled with her. Charlie is a good guy. Thankfully, for everyone, Grace isn't like this all the time."

"Opie will handle her," Bea grinned, nodding to where her daughter was seriously talking to the older woman, while the woman's smiling husband looked on.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Johnson," Opie said, looking up at the prim, bespectacled woman. "But, I'm wondering if it makes you feel good to say bad things about my brother. Give him a chance. He's a real good guy. He doesn't deserve being called names."

Without another word, she retook Charlie Johnson's hand. "Now . . . let's get some food," she announced, leaving the sputtering woman behind.

Charlie looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Grace," he shouted. "Follow, or don't. Opie and I are going to have some fun. Right, Opie?"

The little girl looked up and smiled, then agreed with a decisive nod. "Yep. What kind of food do you want, Mister Johnson?" she asked, surveying the heavily laden row of tables. "We've got lots!" Neither Opie nor Charlie Johnson seemed to care they'd left Grace Johnson to wander toward the table by herself. Word of her behavior had spread, and she found herself alone and ignored by the smiling and laughing people of Riverton.

"Mama!" Opie called, a few minutes later, as she jumped and waved a hand to attract her mother's attention. "Corey's bringing out the cake!"

From nearby, Millie looked up with a broad smile. "Did someone mention cake?" she asked, to no one in particular. She barely spared a distracted grin in Bea and Daniel's direction, as she scurried toward Opie, and the promise of cake.

"It's not often we're able to celebrate like this," the town's mayor, Alan Hurst, said, as he walked up to Daniel, Bea, and the Saunders'. He beamed with pleasure, scanning the crowd, as if he was personally responsible for each person's presence, then shook Daniel's hand and tenderly embraced Bea. "I can't tell you how pleased I am . . . with all this, Bea," he added. "You deserve all the happiness in the world.

"Um, ah," he hesitated, looking from Bea to Daniel. "Do either of you happen to know if young Lucas has political aspirations?"

"I think not, Alan," she laughed. "I do believe he has a vision for Riverton, though. I imagine that he'll be a man of consequence, both here and elsewhere, by the time he's through."

The mayor wasn't sure he liked the answer to his question. His gaze flicked from Bea, and her husband, to Lucas, who was standing with Owen and Sam, surrounded by a large group of townsfolk, telling them a story, complete with hand gestures, and lots of laughter, punctuated with the sound of Nicky's voice.

"Ah, yes." Mayor Hurst cleared his throat. "Um, ah, no politics. That's nice. Um . . . good. Um, ah . . . best wishes to you both," he managed to say, his grin flickering, like the neon sign in Sally's restaurant window.

"Thank you, Alan," Bea smiled, touched by the sentiments of a man who Jonathan, her ex-husband, had always claimed as a close friend.

"Mama!" Opie called.

"Coming!"

"I am so proud of him, Olivia," Neil Horton said, as he and his wife sat on the terrace of their home, surrounded by blossoming trees and the sound of songbirds. "Lucas has come up with an absolutely wonderful business concept, which fills a need his potential consumers were not even aware existed. He's considered financing, the pitfalls he will likely face, employment questions, distribution of his products, investing in the area in which he is operating, expansion . . . everything. I've got people on staff with high powered degrees who do not have as much common sense as our boy."

Olivia Horton smiled, fondly thinking of her son, who called her almost daily. "He sounds happier than I have ever known him to be. The annoying cynical streak seems to have been replaced by a cautious optimism. When I asked about the change, he merely laughed, and told me that he was in love." She recalled her son's lighthearted laughter.

"I personally believe he is happy, because his plans seem to be working out, of course, and that he's doing it all, away from your shadow." She held up a restraining hand. "Oh, I know . . . you and Bailey's father, George, are backing him, but Lucas has invested every penny of his own money in this endeavor. For the first time, he's experiencing the heady feeling of success. In Riverton, he has become precisely the person he's always dreamt of being.

"I had lunch with Bailey last week," Lucas' mother continued, "and I must say, the young man has undergone the most miraculous transformation. Of course, I had heard he was making great strides, but . . . I had no idea. If we think Lucas has changed, Bailey is an entirely new individual . . . a most wonderful individual, I might add," Olivia grinned in recollection. "He is so unlike the young man we knew, it is . . ." she hesitated, "quite amazing. He tells me the whole town of Riverton thinks the world of Lucas. According to Bailey, he fits right in."

Neil grinned, full of paternal approval. "I am so pleased, Olivia. There was a time there . . ." He shook his head, recalling his rebellious, wastrel son.

His wife's raised brow reaction to his comment, caused him to explain. "I was just thinking about how, until Lucas met Owen, he seemed intent on questioning everything which had to do with me or the business. Do you suppose that he's out there, in Riverton, pleased beyond measure, that his ideas are proving to be valid?"

"You never claimed his ideas were bad, Neil," Olivia began. "You just wanted him to think before acting. I believe he's doing precisely that. Both of you should be proud of yourselves."

"Of course," Neil added, "some of Lucas' success can be attributed to Owen's influence in Riverton. Some, but not all. Perhaps, not even most of his success."

"I am relieved that his . . . unusual . . . relationship seems to be working," Lucas' mother mused. "It was all I could do to not question his sanity, when he told me of it." She chuckled, causing her husband to look up. "You need not say anything, Mother," he said to me. "Even though we're a couple thousand miles apart, I can see you, sitting in your study, on that needlepoint chair of yours, pursing your lips . . . wondering if I've lost touch with emotional reality."

The humor drained away. "There were times . . . when I was considering what to do . . . that I would have agreed with you. But, you have to understand the reasons for it all. I am deeply, irrevocably, in love with Owen. I can't speak to whether his feelings toward me are as deep as mine, only that they do exist.

"At the same time, Owen loves Sam, just as Sam loves him. They have always loved one another. It is I who could be called the interloper, here.

"Neither of them could ever be truly happy without the other, just as I could never be truly happy living without Owen. After all, that's why I moved to Riverton . . . to be with him.

"I thought long and hard about my feelings for Sam, before asking him to join Owen and me. At the time, I cared for Sam. He was much more, to me, than a close friend, but . . . I was not sure if my actions would eventually cause more pain than we were feeling, at the time. Now . . . Sam has become more than the close friend I have always thought him to be. He has a wonderful sense of humor, Mother. He is tender, to both me and Owen. He does not focus his attention on Owen over me, or vice versa. He is warm and affectionate and . . . loving. If one were to ask me today what my feelings are for him, I would have to say that I have grown to love him."

Before his mother could comment, he continued. "I am aware our relationship is unusual. It has raised a few eyebrows here, too, but everyone must remember that it is our relationship . . . Sam's, Owen's, and mine. Our relationship with one another will stand or fall on what we do, not on what people's perception of what a relationship should be."

Olivia chuckled. "You have subtly put me in my place, young man. It is comforting to know that this thing is the result of more than overactive gonads."

"Gonads?" Lucas asked, his voice rising, and carrying a distasteful shiver. "I hate that word! It's almost as distasteful as cunnilingus. Ugh." He joined his mother's light-hearted laughter.

"Mother," he asked, suddenly solemn. "Have I displeased either you or Dad . . . with what I'm attempting to do, here in Riverton, or with my relationship? Y'know, I've always heard that small towns are so closed-minded, shutting out newcomers as well as new ideas. I have not found Riverton to be so. I love it here, Mother. I love the surroundings, the people, the sound of a single dog barking in the still night air. I love the sight of the morning mist hanging over the fields, and the towering black clouds, rumbling with the sound of thunder. I love . . . I love . . . everything, absolutely everything . . . the fireflies in the trees at night, the smell of the damp earth, the sky which stretches from horizon to horizon, and the soft evening air, as we take a walk. I am surrounded by people who care for me, and for whom I care, in return. I could not ask for anything more."

Olivia paused, overcome with the beauty her son described.

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear. I'm still here. I am moved by your description of your surroundings, and of your feelings. I am pleased you've found someplace to live that is to your liking."

"I have found more than that, Mother. I have found, home."

"We're coming!" Bea answered her youngest daughter's insistent call that they hurry to see Corey's creation.

"Well, come faster!" Opie called, with a repeated hand motion.

Bea stopped next to her daughter, unable to believe her eyes. Corey and Jonah had just finished placing a large two-layer cake on the center of a table, in a space especially cleared for it. 'Oh . . . my,' was her first thought.

"Corey made it!" Jonah proudly beamed at his partner, who was doing his best to hide his blush at the sheer intimacy of the expression on Jonah's face. 'No one's ever looked at me like that,' he thought. He met Jonah's proud glance with a smile, and tenderly touched his partner's hand, a small gesture of familiarity he would never have expected to be able to take, in such a small town. 'I mean something to these people, and, in the short while I've been here, they've all grown to mean more to me than I can say.' He swallowed past a lump in his throat. 'So . . . this is what it means to be in love . . . not only with a person, but a place.'

"Oh, Sweetheart," Bea said, as she rushed around the table, embracing him and kissing him on the cheek. "What a wonderful thing to do. It's beautiful! Thank you," she added, tenderly touching his cheek before turning to her new husband. "Look, Daniel, at what Corey's done for us." She gestured to the wedding cake, replete with white icing and slightly impressionistic versions of both pink and white roses, also rendered in icing. The two figures gracing the center of the cake, caused Bea to smile. Not much more than stick figures, with smiling faces, the two figures were enclosed in an outline of a heart. And, in case anyone had trouble recognizing who was whom, Corey had thoughtfully spelled out both her and Daniel's name, with an arrow pointing to the correct figure.

"It's the most beautiful wedding cake I've ever seen," Daniel smiled, as he shook Corey's hand. "Thank you, so much, for all of your hard work." He grinned. "Did you say you graduated from culinary school?"

"It's just made from a mix, guys," Corey protested, blushing furiously at the attention he was receiving.

"Lots of mixes," Jonah added, pretending he didn't see Corey's playful look of irritation. "Lots and lots of mixes," his voice trailed off. "Lots. Owen has volunteered to eat all the ones which didn't turn out so well."

"Hmm, how good of him," Daniel grinned, at his wife's soft snort of amusement. "No wonder he runs so much."

On a nearby table, a slightly smaller creation sat, the poor cousin to the confection everyone was oohing and aahing over.

"My dear boy," Millie cooed, making her way to Corey's side, and holding on to one of his arms, appearing faint at the sight which greeted her. "For whom is this work of art intended?" she asked, tearing her gaze away from the creation to its creator, and batting her eyelashes, pointing to the cake with a carefully enameled fingernail.

"I baked it especially for you, Millie," Corey grinned, "but," he added, teasingly, "I had no idea you don't like thick layers of icing." He reached for the cake, as if to remove it from the table, but was stopped by the startlingly firm grip of the ample woman's hand on his arm.

"Now, who would be spreading such a scandalous rumor?" She glanced from side to side, ignoring the laughter of those who were watching. "I never met anything containing sugar, that I did not absolutely love," she commented. "That accounts for my voluptuous figure," she concluded. "So," she said, turning back to the cake. "I believe I'll start off with two . . . large . . . pieces . . . as an appetizer. You did say the entire cake was mine, did you not?

"I'll come back for the rest, later," she concluded. "All mine," she smiled brightly at Art, who was standing close by, before returning her attention to Corey, who was about to slice the cake.

"What a dear man you are," she sighed, leaning close and pointing to where she thought the cake should be cut. Corey grinned and added the extra inch or two. When she was sure the cake would be sliced where she indicated, she turned to those looking on. "Corey is a true Southern gentleman. He realizes that cakes . . . big ones . . . with lots of icing . . . are the perfect way to attract any woman he wants." She paused, then sheepishly glanced toward the young man, and continued.

"I'm told men are also attracted to a guy who can bake a cake. Especially men with muscles," she added, playfully squeezing one of Corey's upper arms, and turning toward the onlookers, silently mouthing the word, "wow!" Amid the laughter, she turned to Jonah. "You are so lucky, my young friend." She then turned back to Corey and said, in an aside,

"Put some weight on the boy. If a good wind comes up, he'll blow away, thin as he is. Either that, or keep a firm grip on him." She pointed an elegant fingernail to a lonely icing rose, then to one of the plates in her hands, nodding approval when Corey slipped the rose to a place alongside one of the large pieces of pastry.

"A rose for one of my favorite women," he grinned.

Millie blushed. "You devil, you! You don't happen to have an available brother . . . who can bake . . . do you?" she asked, with a hopeful expression.

"No ma'am, but, now that I've figured out how to do it, I'll be pleased to bake you a cake for all your special occasions."

Millie immediately set the two plates on the table and fanned herself with a hand, then delicately dabbed at her forehead with a lace handkerchief she kept stored in the cleft of her breasts. "I feel all flushed with excitement!" She breathlessly turned to Daniel and Bea. "An offer like that is almost as good as being proposed to."

Abigail helped carry the cake across the street, from the park to Millie's store. Opie trailed behind. It had been arranged that the two young ladies would stay with Millie for a short while until their mother's sister, Kathy Walker, would pick them up and take them to Evanston, while Bea and Daniel shared an in-town honeymoon.

"Y'like Corey, don't you, Miss Millie?" Opie asked, as she climbed onto one of the chairs in Millie's store, and happily waited for the promised ice cream float. Her sister rolled her eyes, wondering what else Opie would ask.

Millie came from behind the counter carrying three ice cream floats, and sat one in front of each of the girls, taking the third for herself. "Yes, Opie, I like him. Lucas is also pretty special, and, of course, your brothers and Sam. Very nice young men, all of them."

"D'you want to marry him, like Mama married Doctor Daniel?"

Millie laughed. "No, sweetie. Corey is a nice boy, but, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm old enough to be his mother."

"Opie, Corey's not gonna be marryin' anyone," her sister said, hoping to cut off her younger sister's questions. Sometimes Opie could ask the most uncomfortable things.

"Abigail's right, Sweetie. Corey loves your brother, Jonah, not me, or anyone else. He likes girls, like you and your sister, and women, like me or Sally McKenzie, but he can't love any one of us, not like he does your brother. He's made in such a way that he can only love a man. I'm sure there have been plenty of girls in his life who were disappointed because Corey couldn't return their affection, but it's better for both him, and those girls, that he's not trying to do something he's not cut out to do. That only leads to unhappiness."

"D'ya think that Pops wasn't cut out to like girls, like Corey, and that's why he was unhappy?"

"Opie!" Abigail hissed.

"What?"

Millie made a calming motion with a hand. "No, Opie. I believe your Pops liked women, and, at least when he and your Mama got married, they were very happy. I remember them laughing a lot. But, something happened to him. It wasn't something he had any control over, so, it's not like, all of a sudden, he said to himself, 'I'm gonna start bein' unhappy.' It was just somethin' that happened. It's not his fault that he ended up the way he was. Your mama didn't cause it, nor did you, Abigail, or your brothers. It was just something that happened. It was sad, but, there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent it."

"I'm glad Mama and Doctor Johnson are happy. I hope nothin' happens to either of 'em, like what happened to Pops."

"Me, too, Sweetie." Millie turned to Abigail, who was idly stirring her float.

"Are you bothered by something? You're awfully quiet," Millie asked, shifting her attention to Opie's sister.

Abigail smiled crookedly. "I was just thinkin' how it seems like all the nice guys . . . like other guys. I mean, Owen has two of 'em! I wish there were a couple of guys who like girls around, for me to choose from. My own age, y'know." Abigail smiled. "Y'suppose it's something in Riverton's water, or something?"

Millie laughed. "Who knows? I doubt it, though. There are lots of men who drink the same water, and they're interested in women."

Abigail grinned crookedly. "It was just a thought."

"I know you're not going to like hearing me say this, Abigail, but you are only seventeen. Y'never know when you might meet a nice young boy . . . who likes girls," Millie added. "I'm sure there must be a couple of 'em out there."

"Well, they're not in Riverton, that's for sure."

"Maybe not, but . . . who knows . . . maybe some of the boys who'll be coming to town from Evanston, to work in Lucas' greenhouses, will be to your liking." When Abigail's eyes brightened, Millie leaned closer. "Just don't let 'em drink the water, eh?"

"Should I warn people about the water?" Opie asked, her eyes wide, as she glanced warily at the glass of ice water in front of her.

"C'mon, lazybones!" Jonah called, as he, Owen, Lucas, and Sam, jogged back to the park's bandstand, where they were cleaning up after Daniel and Bea's wedding. Corey lagged behind the others, pausing to speak with Art, Riverton's ubiquitous barber, and Charlie Johnson, the doctor's brother. Before turning back to the two men, he raised an arm acknowledging Jonah's call.

"In a minute!" He turned back to the two men. "Thanks for the soda, Art." He wiped his brow with his t-shirt, then returned it to where it hung out of his back pocket. He nodded toward where his four friends were stuffing trash bags with the last of the rubbish. "Tough work, that." His engaging smile, mobile features, and easygoing manner, made him an instant friend to all who met him. Art grinned to himself. Millie, the woman who ran the shop next to his, hadn't stopped talking about what a wooonderfullll young man he was.

"So polite, and so good looking."

Art couldn't help himself. "And, not interested in women." He quickly added, "no matter how voluptuous." He tenderly laid a hand over Millie's. "He's also more than thirty years younger'n you, dear heart."

Millie bowed her head. "I know you're right, of course. It's just that I don't feel voluptuous, up here." She pointed to her head. "I still think of myself as that young girl who could make young men, like Corey, laugh."

Art looked away. "I was one of those young men, and, to me, you're still the same girl I met way back in high school." Millie bit her lip and closed her fingers around Art's. She seemed unable to trust her voice, but did manage to silently mouth her thanks.

"But, we have to face facts. We're getting older. The world's beginnin' to pass us by, whether we like it or not." His mouth twisted into a smile. "At least, with people like, Corey, Lucas, Sam, Jonah, and Owen, handlin' things, I'm feeling that Riverton's not gonna dry up and become a ghost town. I wouldn't want that." He patted her hand. "We . . . the two of us . . . have sorta run things 'round here, for more years than I can count. I'm glad that the new blood is so likable."

"D'ya think that young Lucas might be plannin' on opening a grocery store, like so many people are thinkin'?" Millie asked. "I'm not sure whether it might be true, or if it's just people wishin' he would. He's changin' so much else, and a new store would sure put the wind up ol' Maxine's britches."

Art chuckled. "I've given up tryin' to guess what those boys might do next. But, you're right. Ol' Maxine does need a dose of reality."

"The bully," Millie mumbled, with an unrepentant glance at Art.

She slowly drew a crosshatch design on the checkered table cloth of one of the tables set up in the small section of her shop set aside as an ice cream parlor. "If he is planning on a grocery store, I'm wonderin' if he might consider using my store, and letting me work in the place." She looked at her best friend for his opinion.

"Ask him. Lucas won't feed you a line. Ask him straight-out, and he'll give you an honest answer. There's no beatin' round the bush with that man." Art sat back, causing the spindly metal chair to squeak under his weight.

Art drew himself back to the present. Corey was standing in front of him.

"I've never had a chance to introduce myself, Mister Johnson," Corey smiled, showing off the dimples which seemed to set Millie's heart to pounding, as he shook Charlie's hand. "I'm Corey Hatfield, the partner of one of those clowns."

"So you do not consider yourself a clown?" Charlie laughed, responding to the young man's infectious smile.

"Of course I am!" Corey leaned close, playfully lowering his voice. "Though a couple of those guys are a little more clown-like than the rest of us." His eyes sparkled with mischief, as Charlie barked a laugh, then looked over his shoulder at another call. "Better go, gentlemen. I wouldn't want to be labeled a slacker." He waved a salute, then turned and jogged back to his friends.

"Those guys have brought life to a tired-out old town." Art paused, looking at the doctor's brother from beneath lowered eyelids. "They've also made many of the citizens reexamine their prejudices."

The smile faded from Charlie Johnson's face, as he looked away, embarrassed. "You've heard about my wife's thoughtless remark, I see." Charlie shook his head. "I'm forever trying to run damage control for that woman. She does not think before she speaks. She doesn't think and, more importantly, she doesn't care what her offhand comments do to people. All it takes is one appearance, and wham, there's fallout to deal with."

Charlie smiled. "My mother has strongly urged me to either keep Grace locked away, or to invest in a big role of duct tape, and use it to seal her mouth shut . . . permanently. My sister's suggestions haven't been so charitable."

His smile grew. "I was so pleased to have Owen's little sister confront Grace and ask why she would say bad things about her brother, without even knowing him." He chuckled. "Maybe having someone other than me face down my wife, might get the message through. Right now, she's back at Daniel's old apartment, sulking. If I'm right, when I get back she'll be whining about how everyone in Riverton is so standoffish and close-minded."

Art hoped his nod was understanding. He really did feel sympathy for Charlie. The doctor had often spoken of his "unfortunate" brother, and the woman to whom he was married. Today though, was his first experience with Grace Johnson. "I only hope Owen hasn't heard of what's been said about him. But, with the speed at which news travels around here, he is as sure to hear about it, as he is sure to be hurt by someone thinking bad about him, for no reason. You've probably heard nothing but good of the young man. One thing very few people realize is how sensitive he is. His father was . . ." Art paused.

"Let's just say that Owen endured much. He always was a sensitive boy, and became more so as he grew up, and things became worse, at home. He naively believes that since he believes everyone is his friend, that everyone will like him, in return. It's unfortunate Mrs. Johnson didn't keep her thoughts to herself until she had been around him for a little while. If she had, I don't believe she would have hinted that he would behave inappropriately around Nicky . . . or anyone else, for that matter."

The two men looked up at a sudden burst of laughter. Owen was laying, face-up, sprawled on a folded table, which was being carried by the four other men. Each was playfully staggering under Owen's weight, and, on a count of three, dumped him onto the lawn. As Art and Charlie watched, Owen sprang up, grabbed his brother's ankle, and dragged him to the grass. In a moment, all five men were wrestling, amid shouts and laughter.

"People, such as my wife, who want to believe bad things about someone, will find evidence to support their beliefs, even in such innocent fun-loving behavior as that," Charlie Johnson nodded, toward the laughing men, who had now climbed to their feet and were brushing one another off, amid continuing jokes and horseplay.

"G'day," Owen called, waving to Art and Charlie, as the young men turned toward their apartments. "We're all done." His wave was echoed by that of the other men.

"Thanks for the drinks, Art," Sam called, then jogged to keep up with his friends, who had rounded the corner of the building and disappeared.

~ to be continued ~

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