Owen

Owen

Chapter forty-seven

By Roy Reinikainen

Bea leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, wearing a concerned look. "Sweetheart . . . do you want to talk about what's on your mind? Because, something surely is. I find I'm missing the young man who's always smiling and telling a joke. Where has he gone?"

Corey shrugged, wearing a crooked smile, as he leaned against the kitchen counter at Bea's side. Jonah and Daniel were sitting on the porch, visiting, while Corey assumed his self-assigned role as the person who dried the dinner dishes. "He's still in here, someplace." Corey gestured vaguely to his head. "He's just got a lot on his mind, lately."

His eyes widened, as he hastened to add. "It's got nothing to do with Jonah though, if that's what you're thinking." There was another shrug. "I'm sorta bummed about not being able to find work. Owen's feeling the same way. That's why he's considering going back to the city, to finish his education."

The moment he'd said it, Bea's sudden change of expression told him he shouldn't have. "He hasn't told you about that possibility, has he?" Corey looked away, sorry he was the cause of the look of pain which flashed across Bea's features. "I'm sorry. I thought . . . with as much as Owen talks to you that he . . ." Corey rested an arm across Bea's shoulders. "I'm sorry.

"I do have to say though, that I don't think he'll be going. He's like me, wanting to feel useful, and to pull his own weight. Right now, the two of us are depending on Lucas for everything." Corey lowered his voice. "It's not a good feeling, depending on someone's generosity, like that.

"You've got to remember that Owen has a lot more reasons to stay in Riverton now, than he did when he left for school. He's not only got Sam, he's got Lucas. They're both telling him that he has to do what he thinks is right, but it's easy to tell they're hoping he stays. He's also got you, and Daniel, and his sisters. And . . . this time, there's no one who's driving him away . . . like there was . . . before." Corey's already low voice dropped lower. "I'm putting my foot in my mouth a lot tonight, it seems. First, Owen, then claiming that his father was one of he reasons Owen wanted to leave." Corey looked away, then back, when Bea began speaking.

She smiled crookedly. "As much as I hate to say it, Lucas and Sam are correct. He has to be the one to make the decision about what's best for him." She turned to Corey, her voice soft. "And, you're right, thinking it was Owen's father who was one of the causes for him wanting to leave. All his life, Owen tried so hard to please that man. I sometimes feared he would break his heart, tryin' so hard. Finally, he . . ." Bea shrugged . . . "gave up . . . stopped trying. That's when I knew, for sure, that he'd be leaving." Her eyes focused on Corey's. "Is the possibility of Owen leaving the thing that's bothering you . . . maybe even more than not being able to find employment?"

"Some," Corey said, with a twisted smile. When Bea's brows rose, he relented. "Yeah, it would bother me, not having him around. He's such a good guy. We joke about being brothers, but he means . . . so much, to me that's what it feels like we are. He's helped me, more than I can say, and probably more than he knows. Jonah's the same." He grinned. So are you." He was pleased with the slight pink which colored the blond woman's cheeks.

"Ever since I met you, Bea, I've wished that my mother could have been like you, but . . ." He looked away, lost in thought, and didn't see Bea motion to Jonah and Daniel, who were standing at the kitchen door, to not interrupt. The two men nodded their understanding and turned, silently leaving Bea to finish her conversation.

"Sweetheart," Bea murmured, as Corey rested his head on her shoulder. "I take it your relationship with your mother was . . . painful."

Corey softly snorted . . . a small puff of air against her neck.

"Give her a chance, Sweetheart," Bea continued, in her melodic soft alto. "Being a parent is so much more difficult than I ever imagined. I'm fortunate, in that all of my children think I did a passable job." She held Corey at arm's distance and looked into his eyes. "No one will ever know what was happening in your mama's life that made her less than perfect, in your eyes. I don't know what your childhood was like, but . . . give her a chance. Try to imagine what she and your father were going through, when you were a child."

"Owen has told me I need to do my best to forgive. But . . . it's so hard." He glanced at he woman who was focusing her entire attention on him. "I'm sorry, Bea, for whining."

She shook her head, dismissing his claim. "Things worth accomplishing are often like that, Corey . . . difficult, I mean, and no, you're not whining. You're disturbed. Y'know . . . most often, difficult things cannot be accomplished with one act . . . even an act of supreme will." She smiled. "I had a professor, back in college, who liked to say that tackling a big problem is like eating a whale. There is no way one can do it in one bite. But, with determination, and the . . . will . . . one can, with enough bites . . . and enough time . . . finish off that whale."

Bea tilted Corey's head up, and looked him in the eyes. "Do you have the will, Corey?" After a moment, she smiled. "I think you do. Both Owen and Jonah are smart young men. I would bet that they think you do too."

Corey shrugged agreement, then tried to change the subject. "I didn't know you went to college."

"Yes, just like you, I wanted to be a teacher. But, instead of pursuing my dream, I got married, so . . ." she said after a lengthy pause, "My only students have been my children."

"You should be very proud, both as their mother . . . and their teacher."

Bea quickly kissed Corey on the forehead. "Thank you. I am proud . . . more than I can say."

Jonah and Daniel eased themselves onto adjoining rocking chairs. "I'm glad he's talking to Mama," Jonah said, glancing over his shoulder, toward the home's screen door. "He's carrying around so much hurt. It's like a festering wound. It's poisoning him."

"Are the two of you . . . doing okay?" Daniel asked, turning toward the slender young man who'd thrown one leg over the arm of the chair and half-turned toward him as he spoke. "I mean . . . Corey's not feeling bad 'cause of your relationship, is he?"

Jonah laughed. "No, we're fine. I'll have to let Corey choose the time and place to discuss details with you, but I think I can say, without betraying any confidences, that his childhood was pretty miserable. Not like Owen's and mine," he quickly added. "There was no shouting or beatings. There was . . . nothing. Corey's been hurting, since as long as he can remember. Until he met Owen, he'd never spoken with anyone about it. Now . . . it's as if the floodgates have been opened."

Jonah glanced toward the kitchen, obviously wishing he could be standing at his partner's side. "Like I said. I'm glad he's talking with Mama. I've always thought she's easy to talk to." He smiled. "Plus, I think she's kinda partial to Corey, and he thinks of her as something like a substitute mother."

Jonah's mood changed. He smiled and his eyes sparkled as he twisted to face Daniel. "So . . . speaking of mothers. D'ya think I'm gonna have a baby brother or sister . . . anytime soon? You need a couple of children running around, calling you Daddy, and Corey, Sam, Lucas, Owen, and I need someone to spoil with affection." He shook his head. "These kids are never gonna be left alone, surrounded by big brothers, all wanting to take 'em places, and show 'em a good time. Besides, I think you'll be an awesome father."

He reached out and playfully punched Daniel's shoulder. "So . . . get down to business, guy. Us brothers and uncles are waiting!"

With each footstep, the two men stirred up small puffs of fine dust which hung on the still early evening air. Jonah inhaled deeply, and smiled as he took Corey's hand. 'What a wonderful place to live,' he thought. To his right, a patchwork of greens stretched to the hazy horizon, where the green of the earth merged with the soft golden sunlight of early evening. Here and there, clumps of trees stood out, like islands on a peaceful green sea. To his left was an uninterrupted wall of trees, and brush, while above, massive limbs arched over the road, their leaves draping the two men with dappled shadows.

The undulating song of cicadas, was a sure sign high summer was approaching. In a few weeks their frenetic call would be gone and the peaceful sound of crickets would take their place. He inhaled deeply, the smell of damp soil and growing things calming him. A single dog barked, momentarily silencing the insect drone. Then, by fits and starts, the buzzing returned.

"May I ask you something?" Corey turned to him with an attentive smile.

"You've not been yourself since you told me about your childhood," he said, absently brushing away a persistent fly.

Corey turned to his partner, with a twisted smile. "I've been thinking about about what things were like while I was growing up. That has been one of the reasons I've been a little more quiet than usual. In fact, your mother gave me a bit of a pep talk, this evening. She's wonderful."

"But . . ." Jonah prompted, after a nod of agreement.

"Mostly though, I've been wondering if I'm going to find a teaching job. With all the cuts in education, some school districts are letting teachers go. It doesn't seem as if any town nearby is gonna want to hire a newly minted teacher." He reached out and rubbed Jonah's back. "I understand how Owen's feeling. It's no fun not knowing if you're going to be making a living at what you've been trained to do."

"You said you've been re-thinking your relationship with your folks?" Jonah gently probed, refusing to be waylaid by lack of teaching positions. "Have you reached any conclusions?" Corey had taken Owen's advice and had told Jonah of his past, and had received silent support from the man who sat by his side and held his hand. Whenever Corey's narrative would falter, Jonah's gentle questioning would start him talking. He laid it all out; his fears, his anxiety . . . all the bad things which had happened to him . . . and the few good things. He held nothing back, and, in the end, had fallen into a restless slumber at Jonah's side.

'What a family!' Corey thought, the next day. 'Owen, Bea, Jonah, they're all freakin' wonderful listeners. What I would have given to have had the sort of conversation with Mama, I can so easily have with Bea.'

The casual thought had made him stop. "I don't think I've ever called her that," he said, aloud. "Mama." There was a long pause as he stared, unseeing, into the distance. 'What does me thinking that . . . now, mean?'

"Corey," Jonah prompted, as the silence stretched. "Have you been doin' a lot of thinking about your folks, too?"

"Sure, I've been thinking about them. I just don't know what all this thinking means, is all." He turned to the man who was walking at his side, and retook his hand. "I've also been thinking not only about what a wonderful person you are, but how unique your whole family is. You . . . your mother, little Opie, Abigail, Owen . . . all of you just . . . I don't know . . . You make me feel . . . safe. You all make me feel as if what I think and say means something." He squeezed Jonah's hand. "I feel as if I've stumbled into the perfect family." He pulled Jonah close and turned to him, as they stopped walking. "I can't even begin to describe to you how good I'm feeling, right now."

"Do you see yourself reconciling with your folks?" Jonah asked. The question was met with a stone-faced response. Corey's smile faded. He loosened his embrace and stepped back.

"Don't push, Jonah," he said, in a low voice. "Not about that, at least. Don't push." He turned away and crossed his arms, closing in on himself.

"I won't . . . push," Jonah gently said, but you, yourself, have started something, by thinking about your folks, for the first time in years. You've broken the ice by telling first Owen, then me, about what happened to you, and you've gone even further by showing some of your treasured possessions to all of us. You are the one who is pushing yourself, Corey. You, whether you admit it or not, are wanting something to happen. I don't know what it is. Maybe even you don't know. But, you want something. So . . . I won't push, but I will not let you go back into the shell you've been working so hard to get out of. Your folks need dealing with. I know it. Owen knows it, and, most importantly, you know it."

He reached across the small distance and rested a hand on Corey's shoulder, causing the man to flinch. "There's one thing you have to remember, while you're doing all your thinking."

"What's that?" Corey asked, not turning around.

"You have to remember that you are loved. I love you, Owen loves you, Mama loves you. Same with Opie, Lucas, Sam . . . everyone . . ." Jonah's voice held amusement. "Even Millie loves you, and not because you are constantly baking her cookies, either!"

Corey snorted amusement. "That woman needs a man!" He looked over his shoulder. "Preferably one who can bake!"

He turned to Jonah and took his hand. "I'm sorry for closing down on you, there, for a minute." Jonah nodded acceptance of the apology. "I know that you and your family care for me, and . . . I promise . . . I will not retreat back into my 'shell' as you call it. But . . ." He held up a finger. "Let me do things in my own time, in my own way. I may be taking small steps, but you have to remember that I am moving forward."

Jonah thought for a moment then shrugged.

"You didn't agree to anything, just now, did you?" Corey gave Jonah a raised-brow look. The only answer he received was a slight smile and another shrug.

Owen rushed across the living room and grabbed the telephone, made a face when it was upside down, then hurriedly pressed the button and answered, as he righted the phone. "Bailey! This is wonderful! How's my brother who lives in the big city, doing?" Owen laughed, referring to his, Lucas', Corey's, and Bailey's bonding evening. "Corey and Sam have told me that you've met a great guy. Lucas, says he's drop-dead sexy, with the most penetrating eyes he's ever seen. Corey just smiles and asks, 'Who's looking at his eyes? He's hardly ever dressed!'"

Bailey laughed at Owen's boyish enthusiasm. He could almost envision his friend, pacing as he spoke. He was probably naked, his short blond hair, a mess, and his smile and enthusiasm lighting up the room.

"Riley . . . Yeah, he's a looker, all right!" Bailey continued. "And, Lucas is right, about the eyes. I swear! Sometimes, I feel as if he's looking right through me. They're the palest green I've ever seen. He's got the most wonderful . . . Well, let it suffice to say he's wonderful to look at, and has a great personality. His family runs a big construction company in Atlanta. He and Corey were friends all through school, and hung around together a lot. Corey introduced me to him, once, but I didn't get to know him until after Corey left. Did I tell you that they're both Southern boys, so they have much in common?

"Man . . . listen to me!" Bailey said, amazed, at himself. "I called to talk to you, and here I am waxing eloquent about Riley!

"Oh, one other thing, before I let you talk! I'm calling to let you know that you'd better break out the welcome mat. Lucas' parents, my parents, and Riley and I, are going to descend on you, and Riverton, for Independence Day festivities. The parents have heard Lucas and me talk about what a wonderful place Riverton is, so they're anxious to come out, both to see Riverton, but also to see Lucas and you, and the guys. Riley and I had already planned to come out so I could introduce him to you all, and he could experience a little of small town America. When the parents heard what we'd planned, they all decided to join us. Lucas will probably freak." Bailey laughed, anticipating his friend's reaction.

"Sam tells me the remodeling of the bed and breakfast has been completed, so none of us will have to impose on anyone.

"I also want to check on my building," Bailey continued. "Sam's told me it's finished, and I'm anxious to see how it turned out. Now . . . all I need to do is figure out what I want to do with it!"

"You mean you've remodeled that big ol' building and don' know what you're gonna do with it?"

Bailey laughed at Owen's incredulous tone of voice. "Well . . . I have a couple ideas. Maybe, when I come out for a visit, inspiration will strike. You're always full of great ideas. Maybe you can think of something I can use the building for."

"Uh . . . I guess." Owen chuckled. "You've got everyone guessin' what it's gonna be, I can tell you that much."

"I guess I'd better come up with a purpose soon then, hadn't I?" Bailey took a deep breath, grinning in anticipation. "Okay, it's your turn to tell me what's going on. I promise I won't interrupt. It's just . . . geez, Owen, I'm so happy to be talking to you!"

While Bailey was rambling, Owen shook his head in amazement at the changes in his friend. Gone was the pompous man he'd met on the first day in the city, and in his place was a new person. He laughed, when Bailey finally paused long enough for him to say something. "Wow!" Owen exclaimed. "Where'd you stuff the old Bailey? You're not by some chance, a guy who just sounds like my friend, are you?

"Oh! Wait! Don't answer! I shouldn't have asked a question. With the way you're talking, I might not be able to say anything, and we both know I have trouble keeping my mouth shut!" He heard Bailey snort.

"Actually, things are okay."

"Only okay? I thought you'd say they were outstanding."

Owen took a deep breath. "Yeah, okay. Did Sam tell you that I may be coming back to the city, to go to school? I have to let the folks there know, after the Independence Day holiday." When Bailey failed to respond, Owen wondered if he was still on the line. "Bailey? Are you there?"

When Bailey did answer, his whole manner had changed. "Sam's told me you're not happy with the life you're living," he said, his voice subdued. "I can understand your feelings, though, speaking as one of the folks you've helped, I truly believe you underestimate the impact you have on everyone with whom you come in contact." He snorted. "Hell, I'm wondering how meeting you is going to change Riley!"

"I think you're overstating things!" Owen protested. "I only give people . . . permission, I guess . . . to speak. They want to talk. All I do is listen."

"I disagree. You give people strength! That's what you gave me, and, from what I gather when I've spoken with Corey; that's what you've given him. He's not told me what's bothering him, but I know . . . something is . . . And, you've helped him come to grips with his problem. You spread good humor wherever you go, with your smile, and your good deeds. Look at how much the doctor depended on you, or your mother, or Jonah, or Lucas, or Sam, or me . . . Corey . . . everyone!

"As far as returning to school . . . that is a decision only you can make. You need to do what is right for you, not what is right for Lucas or Sam, or anyone else. You are the person you need to take care of, first! If living in the city and going to the university will make you happy, that's what you should do. If staying in Riverton, and getting an online education, there, will make you happy, then that's what you should do.

"What I'm trying to say, Owen, is that there are alternatives to getting an education here . . . in the city. If you avail yourself of those opportunities, you can have your education, your relationship, and your family and friends. You need not give up anything."

Owen sighed, sinking into the embrace of one the apartment's overstuffed leather chairs. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I haven't really investigated an online education because I've never thought that sort of degree would be as good as one from a real school, with buildings n'all.

"When I said that to Lucas he just rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Geez, Bailey, I am so proud of him! He's turning the entire town around, singlehandedly. Going out onto the street, I can feel it. It's wonderful. His folks are going to be as proud of him as I am.

"And, Sam! You and Sam need to get to know one another better. You've spoken a lot on the phone, I'm sure, but being around him face-to-face is way better. He's thrown himself into Lucas' projects, just like he threw himself into yours." Owen snorted. "Sam doesn't do anything half-way. He's taking some summer classes at the junior college in Evanston. He's helping out with his father, he's been working on your building, and keeping all of your secrets, even when we threaten to hold him down and tickle him."

"Have you listened to what you've been telling me?" Bailey asked. "You know what the best decision is, regarding school. If you haven't already . . . sit down and think about what you would be missing if you were living here. Consider all the plusses and minuses of Riverton and the city. Then, when I'm out there, you and I will discuss things. Don't make any decision until then though, okay?

"I want a chance to visit with you. I also want a chance to hug you." He spoke with a grin in his voice. "No one can hug like you can. Absolutely, no one!"

"Aww, thanks, but Riley won't appreciate hearing you say things like that."

"Riley knows precisely how much you mean to me, Owen. I've not kept my feelings for you a secret, either from him or from Corey. So, to respond to your comment. No, he wouldn't complain. He'll love you as much as I do . . . as much as everyone does. And, once he sees you, and you hug him, you're going to have another admirer. In fact, I'm wondering what sort of things the two of you will end up discussing, and how he'll go away from those conversations, changed.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Owen. It'll be great to see Lucas and Corey again, and get to know both Sam and Jonah better." Bailey chuckled. "Hell, I've found that I even miss Riverton! I still don't think I could live there, but a long visit from time-to-time, would be welcomed."

" So . . . bottom line . . . Things are good with you?" Owen asked.

"Oh, Owen, you have no idea how good."

"What?!" Lucas almost shouted, turning from the kitchen counter. "Everyone's coming here? Next WEEK?!"

Owen flinched from the strength of Lucas' response. "No, not everyone. Just your folks, Bailey's folks, Bailey and Riley. That's all."

"Owen," Lucas said, slowly, choosing his words carefully, and setting the knife he'd been using, on the counter. He wiped his hands on a towel, wearing a frown, ignoring the quick glance exchanged between Owen and Sam. "As much as I love you, sometimes . . . and this is one of them . . . I would dearly like to wring your neck!" Sam's soft snort of amusement was quickly quelled. "When did you find out about this . . . visitation? And, please don't tell me, last week!

"And don't you defend him, smarty pants!" Lucas rounded on Sam, catching him giving Owen a raised-brow look. "Or," Lucas continued, "You just may not get any dinner."

"He considers that a threat?" Sam couldn't help but ask, then raised his hands, as if to fend off a blow, when Lucas looked in his direction, wearing a scowl. "Dont'cha just love it when he gets riled up?" Sam asked, Owen. "Makes him, sorta . . ." Sam shimmied . . . "macho!"

"Makes a guy just want to strip-off, and invite him to climb on board," Owen agreed.

"Guys!" Lucas shouted, in exasperation. "Stop it!"

"Awww, and I was just getting hard," Sam playfully groaned. "That happens, when I hear all this talk about getting nekkid. Besides, I haven't gotten to be a bottom in days!"

"You're always hard, so be quiet for a couple minutes while I ream Owen's ass."

"Then, can you do mine?" Sam asked, his eyes wide.

"Sam! Stop it!"

"Now . . ." Lucas turned back to Owen, hands on hips, wearing a determined scowl. "When did you learn of everyone's visit?"

"A couple hours ago. You were downstairs in the office when Bailey called. We talked 'bout a bunch of stuff, and he told me they were all coming for a visit, 'cause your and his parents want to see the town, and Bailey wants us all to meet Riley, whom he's very fond of. Those are my words, not his.'

Owen's brows drew down, in thought. "Whom he's very fond of," he repeated, then glanced at Lucas. "Isn't that a dangling participle, or something?"

"Mine isn't . . ." Sam began, but was interrupted.

"Dangling," Lucas finished the thought. "Yes, we know. Besides, I don't think participles can dangle." He thrust out a warning hand in Sam's direction, discouraging any response.

"Dammit, guys! Don't you see? I'm going to be judged by what's been accomplished, here in Riverton. I'm not ready to be judged! When Dad invested in all this . . ." He waved an arm to the changes going on, beyond the apartment. "He expected results. I haven't been able to show any. There won't be any. Not until after the greenhouses are done and we've been able to grow and distribute our produce. Then, is when he should come out to visit. Not now!"

"Lucas, don't get all anxious about stuff. Everything will be okay. Sure, your dad wants to see results. But, he realizes, I'm sure, that, you've gotta lay the groundwork before you can have any profits. After all, you've started with a clean slate . . . with nothing. The stuff you, Jonah, and Sam have accomplished is amazing. I'm proud of you guys. Your folks will be, too. And, best of all, your bed and breakfast is ready to go, so we won't have to give up our bed, unless, of course, we invite someone to join us." He grinned brightly, turning to Sam.

"Bailey says his friend, Riley, hates clothes, so we should be prepared to have him hangin' around all nekkid n'stuff." Owen wiggled his eyebrows, in Sam's direction.

"My parents?" Lucas groaned. "Here . . ."

"And, Bailey's folks, plus Bailey and Riley, the guy who loves to be nekkid," Owen added, choosing to ignore Lucas' frown.

Lucas turned to Sam. "Did you know of this visit?"

"Nope. This is news to me. Owen's right, though. Don't get all nervous, worrying. Things are fine. You have so much to be proud of. If you have any doubts, just ask anyone in town. They'll tell you! Your parents, and Bailey's, are going to be amazed at what you've accomplished."

"Ask anyone in town, he says," Lucas said, looking in Owen's direction. "What about Maxine? She'll probably be the first person they meet!"

Sam made a sour face, much like Maxine's, on a good day. "Yeah, well. They should talk to anyone but Maxine, okay?" Sam's expression turned mischievous. "Ol' Maxine." Sam sadly shook his head. "The problem is, there's wasn't enough chlorine in her gene pool." The comment was outlandish enough to make Lucas snort amusement, which, in turn, inspired Sam to continue. Y'know," he grinned. "I heard that when Maxine dies, she's decided to donate her body to science fiction."

"No. Truly?" Owen asked, his eyes wide. "You're joking!"

"You think things'll be okay?" Lucas asked, in a small voice, as Sam shrugged, grinning at Owen's expression. "Mother's such a perfectionist . . ." Lucas mumbled, flopping onto the living room sofa, with a soft whoosh of expelled breath.

"And . . . she knows exactly how hard you've been working to make everything perfect," Owen interrupted. "All she can talk about, every time I speak with her on the phone, is how proud she is of you, and what you're doing. 'He always was one to take the bull by the horns, and wrestle it until he gets what he wants,' she told me a couple days ago. 'He never settles for second best,' she added, then laughed, and told me that's why you chose Sammy and me to be your partners."

"For real?" Sam asked, with a bright smile. "I thought she was pretty cool, too. Same as your dad," he added, after a brief pause.

Owen nodded. "It made me feel so good, to hear her say that about us, Sammy. Y'know, she refers to us as, 'her boys.' She never mentions Lucas when she says that," Owen added, wearing a mischievous expression. "I guess, since we're so outstanding, we sorta outshine him. Don't you think?"

Sam playfully elbowed Owen in the side, then turned his attention to Lucas. "Relax, Lucas. Things'll be fine. There's no need to do anything special. Like Owen says, just sit back and enjoy everyone's visit. Be the tour guide for all your projects."

Owen groaned. "Does this mean, we have to make the bed? I mean, geez guys, we no sooner make it than we're messing it up again."

"You know, your mother is very unhappy with you, don't you?" Franklin Pruitt asked his son.

Riley sighed. "Yes, I know. She's using the fact that I'll be meeting you all in Europe instead of going on the same plane with you, as an excuse to berate me, when the actual reason is that she does not approve of Bailey because, as she says, 'he's new money, AND a Northerner to boot.' Those are her words, Father, along with the words she chose to emphasize. When did Mother suddenly become so concerned with whom I choose to spend time?"

Franklin Pruitt laughed. "When she finally realized she was not going to choose a bride for you, as she did for your older brother. I pity your younger brother. Elizabeth's already started parading eligible young ladies, of good Southern blood, before him." Franklin laughed. "The boy's even more irreverent than you!

"When your mother asked him if any of the girls so far had done-anything-for-him, he continued with his dinner and shook his head."

"'You needn't ask, Mother,' he calmly told her. "All you need do is glance at my crotch. If it's at attention, I'm interested. If not, you might as well parade someone else in front of me. You really are wasting a lot of energy, you know. I wouldn't want to be in the same room with most of the girls you approve of, much less share he same bed.'"

"Good for him!" Riley laughed. He could imagine his younger brother saying something like that to his very proper mother.

Franklin cleared his throat and tried to keep his own approval of his youngest son's behavior to himself. "Yes, well . . . Nathan's behavior makes things difficult for everyone else around here. If your mother found out that I've begun the process of replacing the firm's lawyers with a new firm, she would, as your brother is so fond of saying, go ballistic, and . . . things would go from difficult to intolerable.

"That's the real reason I'm calling you, this evening. I want to thank you for putting me in touch with George, your friend Bailey's father. I liked the man, right off. He's got a level head on his shoulders, and knows what is appropriate and what isn't. I like that in a businessman. I told him that I've been looking to replace these slime-bag attorneys of mine with someone else . . . someone not from around here! Someone who's not part of the good ol' boy network of Atlanta attorneys.

This past weekend, he flew down, along with a whole slew of his corporate attorneys, and I've begun the process of divorcing myself, and my firm, from the money-grabbing bunch of pure bloods your mother foisted on me. I don't trust those guys with the time of day, much less my firm's money! They've gotten so that they think they own the company. If I gave 'em half a chance, they'd claim I was incompetent, or something, and snatch the firm away, and where would that leave your mother?

"Um, sorry," Franklin apologized. "I get all hot under the collar whenever I even think of those weasels. I'm sorry this trip has come up when it has, because I'll be away from the action, but, if I'm away, so Elizabeth will be.

"I've already made arrangements with the firm's in-house accountants, to do whatever they need to do to accomplish what I wish, but," Franklin took a deep breath. "I am going to ask if you would help."

"Oh?" Riley asked, noncommittally.

"Riley, I know you're not interested in the firm. I don't like it, but I have grown to accept your decision. While learning to accept your feelings, I realized that I trust you implicitly. I value that trust more than having a son who professes to be interested, as your older brother does. I know exactly where I stand with you. As much as I hate to say it, your younger brother is the only other member of the family whom I can say the same thing about, but he's only seventeen. I need someone older . . . you."

"Need, Father? For what?"

"I know that you'll be joining us for our vacation, but I need you to know my thoughts, and my plans. Before Bailey's father, and his attorneys, flew down to meet with me, I investigated him and the firms of his attorneys thoroughly. I've decided to make some pretty wide sweeping changes.

"Oh?"

"When I met with George's attorneys, I not only hired them to begin procedures to replace our current lawyers, I also had then draw up a document giving you sole authority to make decisions . . . should such a time ever arise," Franklin quickly added. "Otherwise, I changed my will, and most of the documents under which the firm has operated. I wanted you to know these things, and that I just got back from meeting with all the new attorneys and signing slews of papers . . . just in case."

Riley's father cleared his throat. "I don't expect you will ever need the protections those papers provide, but . . . Riley . . . please understand where I'm coming from. As I said, you are the only person I trust. I wish you were staying in the States, just so you'd be closer to whatever might be happening . . . if anything. I . . ." Franklin hesitated. "I just have a bad feeling about . . . things. I don't know why, but that's why I did what I did, and gave all that authority to you, should it ever be necessary to use."

Riley swallowed, moved more than he would have imagined by his father's actions, as well as his words. "Father, I . . . I don't know what to say. I . . . of course, I'll do as you wish . . . if necessary. I only pray it never becomes so. You . . ." He swallowed again. "You've always made an effort to understand me, Father. You've never seen me as a pawn to manage. I . . . I can't begin to tell you how much your trust has meant to me. Now this! I'm honored, Father . . . by your trust.

"I'm also pleased you've begun to divest yourself of the company Mother chose to represent the firm. They have made it clear, on any number of occasions, precisely what they think of me and my aberrant ways. Of course, I don't know if they're doing anything wrong, but, whenever I've been around them, I feel . . . sullied. Like you said, those guys are slimy. I'm pleased you got along well with Bailey's father, and with his men. But, why bring me into this now, Father? This isn't an attempt to draw me into the firm, through the back door, so to speak . . . is it?"

Franklin laughed. "No. I understand and accept your decision. I just want to cover my backside. As my son, you are he first of two people with whom I am entrusting things. The other is Gene Lawson, my in-house go-to guy."

"I like Gene."

"Yeah, he's been with me since the beginning. Other than you, he is the only non-family-member I'd trust with my life, or my business. They're he same thing, actually," Franklin laughed.

"Thank you, Riley," Franklin said. "You have always been a wonderful son. I've watched you grow and silently cheered you on as you established your independence of . . . um . . . everyone. Continue on, son. Continue thinking for yourself. Your muse will lead you to where you need to be. And, know that you have my blessing, whatever or wherever that may end up being. I love you, Riley," Franklin Pruitt said, in a voice, husky with suppressed emotion.

Riley gulped a breath of air. "I . . . love you too . . . Dad."

~ to be continued ~

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