Owen

Owen

Chapter fifty-two

By Roy Reinikainen

"Olivia, Neil," George Wilkins, Bailey's father asked, turning to his two friends; "That young man certainly looks and sounds like your son, but whatever happened to the quiet boy we always knew? This version is so . . . vibrant!"

"Did you see how he and Sam were roughhousing and laughing?" Neil asked his wife.

"Are those his buildings?" Olivia asked, turning to Bailey, gesturing to the two brick and cut-stone buildings close-by. The two large second floor windows of each apartment, facing the street, were separated by a two story glass-filled arch and doors, presumably leading to the upstairs apartments. Downstairs, it appeared as if there were two offices, again, with large windows and bright awnings providing shade from the sun. A large tub of yellow flowers flanked the central doorway, while a flag lazily moved in the warm summer air.

"Lovely," Louise said, then smiled, when everyone turned to her. "Well, it was the first time everyone stopped talking long enough for me to say anything!" she laughed. "And they are lovely. Very . . . solid."

Bailey took over as his soft spoken mother seemed to have run out of words to describe the buildings. "Lucas has offices on the first floor, and the upstairs houses two apartments . . . big ones. You'll be surprised when you see them," he added. "They look like something you'd see back in the city. Lucas may be becoming a country boy, but there's lots of city left in him. In fact, he's got this huge photograph of the city at night, hanging in his living room. I mean this thing is a monster! It's as if one is looking out the window of his old apartment.

"Well, come on, all. Let's get your stuff inside. I need to talk with Sally and let her know we're all coming to dinner, then find Riley. Knowing him, he and Owen are probably lounging around, na . . ." he caught himself before he told his and Lucas' parents how Riley and Owen, and probably Corey, were probably lounging around, naked. 'Hell,' he thought. 'I'd like to get in a little naked time with the guys, too!'

He held the door open but paused, at Olivia's indrawn breath. "Oh, Neil!" she said, in a rough voice, pointing to the intricately lettered gold sign on the etched glass door. "Look!" She tenderly ran her fingers over the name, turning to Bailey and his parents.

"The Grace Kreiger Bed and Breakfast," she said, her eyes threatening to overflow. "Grace Kreiger was my mother. She and Lucas always had a special relationship. He was devastated when she passed away." Olivia looked at the sign, then turned back to the Wilkins'. "She always told him to believe in himself and he would go far . . . and to remember her advice when he arrived." Olivia melted into her husband's embrace. "What a sweet gesture. Mother would be pleased."

"Come on, Dear," Neil said, coaxing his wife into the building, but not before she lovingly ran her fingers over the name, as if capturing its essence.

"May I help you, Maxine?" Art, the barber asked. He glanced at her hair, which seemed to never stay where she intended. "I don't imagine you've come to my shop for a haircut?" he ventured, raising his eyebrows. "And, if not, then I have to ask why you are here." He caught a glimpse of Lucas hugging a small woman, then a man who resembled Lucas, in another twenty years. "Are you, by any chance . . . hiding?"

Maxine turned up her nose and sniffed her disdain. She nodded to the laughing people across the street. "S'more freaks being imported into Riverton to seduce our children? I've always said that you allow one of 'em in, and they bring their friends."

"I presume you mean Lucas Horton?"

"Yeah, the lead freak. No, wait. That would be that Owen kid. There's a freak if there ever was one. His father was always right about him. 'Shoulda killed him at birth,' Jonathan once said." She snorted. "I agree! The world would be a better place without people like him fouling the air.

Art ground his teeth, wanting nothing more than to strangle the scarecrow of a woman and put everyone out of their misery.

"Who're those people?" Maxine added.

Art took a steadying breath. "Those are Lucas' parents and their good friends, who've come to our friendly town, to visit."

"Friendly?" Maxine laughed. "No one here's friendly."

"Hmm," Art murmured, then could hold himself back no longer. "To you perhaps. Now scoot. Get out of my doorway. I don't want you scarin' off customers." When Maxine drew herself up, ready to give Art a piece of her mind, he interrupted.

"I said scoot! That means, leave. Get out of here! You're hurting business." He made shooing motions with both hands. "Go! Get out!"

With hands on hips, Art watched the self-proclaimed enforcer of Riverton's morals, scuttle away, her ever-present smoldering cigarette held tightly between two claw-like fingers. Art shook his head. "She's not gonna be happy till she's caused some sort of big trouble."

He laughed as a favorite saying of his mother's came back to him, when he thought of the town grocer and her wrinkled face, and steely eyes. "A face perfectly suited for radio."

A half hour later, the parents were sitting in the parlor, waiting for the young men to arrive. Each had either a cup of coffee or tea, and had been served by a smiling middle aged woman, wearing a crisply pressed white apron.

"Look, Neil!" Olivia murmured, in surprise. "This is the same china pattern we have back home! I didn't know he even paid attention to such things. And, the flowers!" she said, admiring the arrangement gracing the center of the coffee table.

"Oh, yes, ma'am," their hostess said, surveying the room with a pleased smile. "Mister Horton has standards! We have fresh flowers every other day," she added proudly. "You'll love the breakfasts, I'm sure. He told me once that he wants each morning's breakfast to be as nice as those he had when he was growing up. He puts on quite a spread for our guests.

"'We represent Riverton,' he told us. We always want to look our best!'

"He's a wonderful boss. He tells us what he expects, then turns the three of us loose to see that things are done right."

"Did you know that he's our son?" Olivia smiled.

"Oh!" the hostess exclaimed, putting a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. "And here I go, rambling on about him! M'husband has always told me I talk too much." She paused, as if biting her tongue. "Well, you must be very proud of him. He's a wonderful man. Fits into Riverton real good."

"My apologies, men," Neil Horton said, doing his best to stifle a prodigious yawn. "Good food and late hours make me want to rest my weary bones. Olivia and I are a couple time zones ahead of you, so, for us, it's early in the morning. I'm anxious to sample the comfy mattresses our hostess describes. In fact, I do believe I hear George snoring."

Olivia turned toward the stairs, frowning, until she realized her husband was teasing.

"Oh, yes! Of course!" Lucas said, quickly standing. "It's just so great to have both of you here for a visit, I've lost track of time."

Olivia patted her son on the shoulder. "No need for apologies, dear. We're happy to be here to see you and . . . ," she said, turning to the six other men who followed Lucas' lead, and stood. She glanced toward the stairway as her husband yawned and distractedly waved good night.

"Okay, boys," Olivia said. "Line up. I want to give each of you a hug before heading upstairs to join sleeping beauty." She held out her arms.

"Owen," she murmured, as she held the man she'd grown to care for, as if he were a son, close to her. "I am so pleased to find you well." She held him at arm's length. "I've missed your smile, but have enjoyed your frequent telephone calls, enormously. You are such a sweetheart."

She turned to the dark haired man standing at Owen's side. She and he had met only briefly during Sam's Christmas visit to the City. Olivia took his hands. "Sam. It's so good to see you again. You are such a wonderful addition to our family. Every time I speak with them, Lucas and Owen tell me how wonderful it is, having you as part of the relationship. In case you didn't know, you have made both of them very happy."

She turned to the next person in line, as always, amazed at the changes the man had undergone. "Bailey," she smiled, before hugging him. "You are such a treasure. I cannot tell you how honored I am to know you." She grinned. "I count you as one of my very best friends." She leaned closer, and murmured. "I love our luncheons, spent together. Thank you for thinking of me."

She took both of Corey's hands, as Bailey stepped away, appearing slightly dazed. "Corey . . ." Olivia said in her gentle voice. "My boy, with the wonderful laugh and dancing eyes." She kissed him on the cheek, then winked. "I love your stories.

"And, Jonah," she smiled, surprised at the blush, as she took the young man's large hands. She'd only known Jonah for a few hours, and already thought highly of him. He seemed a man of few words, and deep passions, with lively eyes, a quick smile, and, like his brother, constantly moving hands. "Your mother must be a very special woman to have both you and your brother as sons. A lucky woman, indeed." She lowered her voice, as she embraced him. "You be sure and take good care of Corey, okay?"

Jonah returned her hug. "Yes ma'am. I will. Thank you."

"And, Riley," she smiled, holding the man she barely knew, at arm's length. "The man who is so full of life it positively bubbles over, and makes us all feel good. It is an honor," she said, as she hugged the surprised man. "You and Bailey have chosen well. I am happy for both of you."

"Thank you, ma'am," he responded. "I'm not sure I deserve such wonderful words."

"Well, I think you do, so don't argue," she added, in a mock-severe tone.

"And lastly, my wonderful son," Olivia said, holding Lucas tightly. "Thank you for remembering your grandmother, sweetheart. She would be very proud of you, just as your father and I are. We love you dearly." She kissed him on the cheek, then backed up and surveyed the men who were such an important part of her son's life.

"Such wonderful men . . . all of you."

Corey paused and looked back over his shoulder, the last person to leave the building, to see Olivia watching him.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "For being so nice to me."

"You've not had nearly enough people tell you how special a person you are, have you?" she asked, stepping closer and taking his hand. When he bowed his head, unable to answer, she continued. "You are a special man, Corey, special to Jonah, and all the others, and to me. You remember that, okay?

"Owen and I have had some wonderful telephone conversations. I would welcome the opportunity to visit with you." She grinned. "I assure you, I am not nearly as daunting as I seem at first. I'm just a woman who is fiercely protective of those who are important to her. Lucas, and the six of you fit into that category.

"I always wanted a whole slew of sons, but I was blessed with only one. However, I'm very selfish. If I can't have a bunch of sons, I can certainly have a bunch of boys, all of whom mean a great deal to me." She touched his chin and tilted it upward. "That mean's you, sweetheart."

He nodded once, managed a choked 'thank you', then stepped out of the building. Before the door closed though, she saw Jonah waiting.

The short walk from the bed and breakfast to the apartments was short and silent. 'Mother figures' are really tough on poor Corey,' Jonah thought to himself, sneaking a glance to the man who walked at his left. 'He just doesn't know how to handle kindness from a woman. First Mama, and now Lucas' mother . . .' He figuratively cleared his throat, finding it difficult to call such a . . . powerful . . . woman, by her first name. 'Okay, Olivia.' Even silently, he had a difficult time.

"How y'doin'?" he asked, as Corey reached for the polished brass door handle. "It's tough on me when you clam up like this. I don't know what's goin' through your mind."

"She treated me nicely." Corey released the door handle and spoke, in a low voice, as if he were somehow surprised.

"Of course she did! What did you expect?" Jonah took a deep breath. "Corey . . . your mother ignoring you, as you grew up, says something about your mother, not about women in general. Did you go all quiet n'stuff when your woman teachers in college paid you a compliment, or something?"

Corey thought for a moment, slowly emerging from his melancholy mood. "No, but it's different with a teacher. They have to treat everyone the same. Y'know, come t'think of it, I don't know any non-teacher-type women, other than your mother, Millie, and now . . . Olivia." He grinned crookedly. "I don't have a lot of experience, y'see? Whenever I encounter a woman, outside of a professional environment, I just . . . assume . . . y'know, that she'll behave like what I experienced as a kid. When they treat me differently, I . . ." he shrugged, "I just don't know how to handle it." Corey looked toward the bed and breakfast, where the only light was upstairs, probably in Lucas' parents' room.

"I made a fool of myself, didn't I?" Corey leaned against the building. "Oh, Jonah, what am I gonna do? I just take things so seriously." He grinned crookedly. "Y'know, I'm still traumatized by the forest fire in the Bambi movie, and I must've seen that when I was five or six! I just don't get over things!"

"We're gonna work on that."

"Oh, geez!" Corey threw his head back, smiling as he spoke. "You're just like your brother! Why don't we get to work on some bad habit of yours, or something?"

"We'll take things one at a time. Once you've got a handle on yours, then we can search . . . and search . . . and . . . . . . . . . . . . search for a bad habit of mine. And . . . search," he added, with a grin. When Corey rolled his eyes, Jonah laughed. "See, I got you to smile."

He glanced into the building lobby, lit only by a spotlight illuminating a potted palm and the large painting of the fields of grain.

"I'd be willing to bet that the guys are all upstairs, naked as jay-birds, wonderin' where we are. They're probably imagining all sorts of nasty things. What say we go upstairs and see what they were figurin' we're doing, then do it . . . in front of 'em?" Jonah smiled brightly. "I'm feeling sorta frisky. How much you wanna bet that in no time flat, we've got three bunches of guys all goin' at it."

"So you really are an exhibitionist?"

"Of course! I love makin' everyone else jealous, 'cause I'm living with the sexiest man of the whole bunch."

Corey laughed. "Flattery will get you whatever you wish."

"Oh, good! I've got a long list of wishes."

"I guess we'd better go inside before I kiss you and rip your clothes off, huh?"

"No need to rip 'em off," Jonah said, in a deadpan voice, as he slid his key card into the building's door lock, then held the door for Corey. "I can take 'em off just fine. This is a new shirt, after all," he said, as they climbed the stairs.

"He thanked me for being nice to him!" Olivia exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "The poor, poor, boy."

When her husband failed to respond, other than with a soft snore, she grinned tenderly, and looked around the room, once again, amazed at the thought Lucas had put into everything . "This is absolutely lovely," she murmured. 'I feel as if I'm in a designer's book, and someone's going to barge in and want to take pictures, then complain that Neil and I have messed up the bed.' She grinned, and turned off the bedside lamp.

Neil had stopped snoring and Olivia was struck with the absolute quiet, and the . . . darkness! 'This is amazing,' she thought to herself, as she slid off the high bed and padded to one of the large corner windows overlooking Riverton's dimly lit main street. Quivering shadows of the leaves of the tree outside the window draped over the window sill and oriental rug. A slight breeze, through the open windows, caused the sheer drapery to stir.

A small motion on the sidewalk caught her attention. 'Corey and Jonah.' The two men were standing close to one another as Jonah finished speaking. Corey seemed to laugh, then the two men disappeared inside the building.

'The poor, poor, boy,' she thought, once again. 'I'm so glad someone as sensitive as Jonah has him in hand. He seems so close to . . . breaking . . . I don't know how much it would take before he can't handle any more.' Olivia eased herself into one of the room's comfortable chairs and inhaled the light perfume of the rose bouquet on the small marble-topped table at the chair's side. She smiled, thinking of Lucas, then sobered. 'I hope those two get some of Corey's problems tended to before he has to face a major emotional challenge.' She heaved a sigh. 'Even in Riverton, I'm sure there are such things. The place cannot possibly be as idyllic as it appears. Somewhere, there is a thorn, just as with these roses.'

"Didn't I tell you what we'd find?" Jonah chuckled, as he and Corey walked into Owen's, Lucas', and Sam's apartment, to find the guys, lounging around the room, naked, and laughing at something Riley was saying.

Everyone except Owen, that is. He was in the kitchen, looking into the refrigerator, as always, searching for something to eat. Sam was lying on his back, lengthwise, on a sofa, his head resting on Lucas' lap. Lucas was absently running his fingers through Sam's thick hair, as Riley finished a story about some ancestress of his who owned a pitch fork, and got a thrill from poking boys in blue in their nether regions. 'I guess the important part of the story was at the beginning,' Jonah frowned, unable to see what would cause everyone to laugh.

"Tell 'em about that snooty cousin of yours who bragged about sewing his wild oats in young ladies all over the county, then sweated bullets prayin' for a crop failure," Corey urged, as he and Jonah entered the room, hand-in-hand.

"And, while you're tellin' the story, Jonah and I are heading to our place. You guys are invited to watch . . . or, sow a few oats of your own." He laughed at the instant silence. "I knew that would get you guys' attention. Owen can stay here, though. He'd spend the night with his head stuck in our refrigerator."

"Hey!"

"Jonah's mine, though!" Corey added, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around his lover's waist.

"I've got Bailey!" Riley promptly responded. "And, yes, we'd love to join you. Bailey's been moaning about needin' to show off, for the longest time."

"I have not!" Bailey paused a moment, while the laughter died down. "I can't say that I don't find the idea to be really exciting, though."

"And, I've decided to give up eating, for sex," Owen announced, hurrying around the kitchen counter. "With these two guys!" he added, leaning over the back of the sofa and wrapping an arm around Lucas' and Sam's shoulders. "Aren't I lucky? I've got two, and I've decided that nothin' is gonna separate us."

Jonah turned to Corey, his eyes wide, wondering if he was the only person in the room to detect the significance of his brother's casual announcement. 'Owen's not goin' away!'

"I think it's my turn to be bottom," Owen continued, looking from one of his partners to the other.

"You were bottom last night," Lucas groaned . . . "and the two nights before that."

"Three," Sam corrected. "Three nights."

"Oh, yeah. Three nights!"

"I got it!" Owen shouted.

"Sounds like he's gotten it at least four nights running," Riley mused.

"No!" Owen said, with an exasperated look. "I mean, I've got an idea!"

"And, here, we'd about despaired of that ever happening," Lucas added, in a dry voice.

"Remember, men," Riley warned, finding it difficult not to laugh at Owen's expression. "Just cause his . . . idea . . . has been a long time coming, doesn't mean it's gonna be profound. So . . . try not to laugh."

"Well, hell!" Owen laughed, his fists on his hips. "The sooner you let me finish, the sooner you can head over next door to fuck. Okay?" He smiled at the instant silence.

Lucas abruptly stood and rolled Sam off his lap, sending the man to the floor with a thud and whoosh of expelled breath. "I'm ready!" Lucas announced, rubbing his hands together, in anticipation.

"Well, the show can't get started without me," Sam called, extending an arm for assistance. "Help me get up!" Lucas reached out and grasped Sam's waiting hand.

"He's never needed help getting it up, ever since I've known him," Jonah murmured to Corey.

Suddenly, Lucas' eyes widened. He released Sam, who thudded to the floor once more. This time, the thud was accompanied by a surprised yelp. "Everyone be quiet!" Lucas ordered. "Did I understand you correctly, Owen?"

"Huh?" Sam asked, slowly standing and giving Lucas a dirty look as he rubbed his tailbone. "Understand what?"

"That I'm not gonna go back to the city to go to school." Owen smiled. "I'm gonna stay here and find something important that needs doin'. Riley knocked some sense into me. It took some doin', but he's right.

"After he finished with me, I did some thinking, all by myself, out by the river, and decided it'd be the wrong thing for me t'do, to leave you all, or Riverton. If I left, no matter how hard anyone tried, we'd not be able to recapture what we have today. All of us would have moved on, and . . ." He shrugged. "Besides," he said, glancing toward Riley. "I was planning on going back to school for the wrong reasons. Now, I think I've got my priorities straight."

Lucas was the first to make it to Owen's side, only because he vaulted over the back of the sofa. "For THAT, you can be the bottom as often as you want!" he shouted, as he took Owen in a tight embrace.

"Party time!" Bailey shouted. "We've all kissed him, now let's get outta here. Riley's already getting hard, and I don't want any of you guys gettin' ideas."

"Abigail and I had a brief visit from Owen, earlier this afternoon," Bea said, as she reached for her husband's hand. They were sitting on the home's porch, enjoying the quiet of the evening. "Owen came to talk to us about going back to school, and his reasons for wanting to go."

Bea's smile could be heard in her voice. "Abigail was so pleased to have Owen specifically ask her to stay, that she was beside herself."

"Why wouldn't I want you to stay?" he asked her. "I value your opinion, and besides," he grinned, winking at his sister. "You'n Mama are the two most important women in my life."

Bea turned to her husband. "It was sweet to see Abigail throw her arms around Owen and give him a kiss on the cheek."

"So . . ." Daniel coaxed. "What did Owen want to talk about?"

"He talked about growing up, how . . . his father . . . affects him, even today . . . and how he thought he was going back to school for all the wrong reasons. He talked about fearin' how much he would have changed, whenever he came back, and Lucas, and Sam.

"He told us how he thought going back, at least for the reasons he was thinking about, was the wrong decision."

"And what did you and Abigail say to all this?"

"There was nothing to say. He wasn't here for our opinion. He was here to share his thoughts with us. If he had asked for advice, neither Abigail or I would have been able to suggest what he should do. It's a decision only he can make. He needed to hear himself speak his thoughts."

Bea stroked the top of her husband's hand with a thumb. "Abigail summed it up."

"He could have talked to anyone, Mama, yet he chose us!"

Bea leaned her head against her husband, and spoke into the darkness. "Jonathan 'bout ruined Owen," she said, using her late husband's name for one of the few times since she and Daniel had been married. "Poor Jonah, Abigail, and Opie, had it bad, but nothin' like Owen."

"I've feared that, sooner or later, all that mistreatment would come back to haunt him," Daniel murmured, resting an arm over his wife's shoulder, as she leaned closer. "In order to survive, he's been pushing all the bad memories into some dark corner of his memory. That can only go on for so long before they burst free. Either that will happen or, somehow, his pent up emotions will be," he hesitated, attempting to think of the correct word, "diffused."

"Oh, dear," Bea said, stricken, as she turned to her husband.

"I hope I'm wrong, Bea," he said, "but, at least with him here in town, he's surrounded with his family and friends. There's someone he can turn to, here. In the city," Daniel shrugged, "who knows?"

Lucas turned off the living room lights and followed his friends into Jonah and Corey's apartment, just steps away from his own. 'Owen is staying! He's not going back to the city!' he wanted to shout, feeling as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. For weeks, he'd been steeling himself for Owen's imminent departure, sure that Sam was doing the same thing, in his own way. No matter how much Lucas prepared though, he was afraid he would not handle the parting well. Owen had become too important to him . . . too much a part of his life. 'Something like air,' he mused. 'You know it's important, but you only realize how important when someone threatens to take it away.'

As Owen broke the news of his staying, Lucas caught a glimpse of Jonah's radiant expression, a moment before he, himself, vaulted over the back of the sofa, wanting to be the first person to reach Owen and tell him how pleased he was he was staying. Sam would have reached Owen at the same time, if he hadn't opted to run around the sofa, instead of jump over it. 'Sam needs to loosen up a bit,' Lucas grinned, to himself.

'Sam's not the only one.' After an initial kiss and hug, Jonah had backed away, reluctantly releasing Owen's hand. It was a behavior Lucas had seen time and again . . . the hesitant touch, the small kiss. Jonah was obviously deeply in love with his brother, and wasn't quite sure whether he should show his feelings, or hide them. While Owen's behavior around his brother wasn't quite as painful to watch, it had its own story to tell. 'They spent most of their life together . . . just the two of them,' Lucas thought. 'Then, along came Sam, then me, and finally, Corey, diluting the relationship Jonah and Owen had formed throughout their childhood.'

"Are you aware how deeply Jonah cares for you?" Lucas asked Owen once, while they sat at the breakfast table, soon after they'd arrived in Riverton. Owen had glanced away, then back, compressing his lips.

"Yeah, I am." His crooked grin was slow in coming. "I've told myself that he doesn't know what's goin' on in his mind, 'cause he's too young. Then, I remember that he's only a year younger'n me, and you'n I both know how little I know about what's going on in my brain." Owen's smile faded. "To answer your question though, yeah, I'm aware of what he feels, as well as what I feel. It all began as sort of a protection thing. We turned to one another as the only safe, non-judgmental person to be around." Owen glanced up and caught Lucas' eyes. "This was way back when we were kids . . . before Sammy and I got to know one another.

"Goin' through the sorta things we did, made Jonah and me close, but a lot of what we feel for one another has come from sleepin' together all those years, and talkin' about all sorts of things. I know his innermost thoughts, just as he knows mine. In fact, he knows me probably better'n either you or Sam . . . or Mama." Owen appeared unsure whether he should continue. "Sometimes . . . even now . . . I sometimes . . . not often . . . I find that I wish I were . . . while I'm sleepin' . . . laying next to Jonah."

"Why'ya hangin' back?" Sam asked, taking the few steps away from the bedroom, and the sound of the others.

Lucas grinned, holding a hand out to Sam, who took it and moved close. "I was just thinking about Owen staying, and about how important he is to Jonah."

"If possible," Sam began, "I think Jonah's more pleased than anyone, about him staying. And," Sam grinned, "I personally know that it's pretty tough to be more pleased than you or me. Y'know," Sam began. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he and Lucas were alone.

"Corey told me how much Jonah's been hurtin', waking up in the middle of the night, crying n'stuff. That's not like Jonah. Even when he and I were living together . . . while Owen was away . . . he never did that. He told me he'd let me know if Jonah got any worse." Sam grinned. "I don't think that's likely, now."

He chuckled, as he drew Lucas closer, with an arm around his waist. "I'm thinkin' that the two of 'em would feel a lot better if they worked up the nerve to have a couple days of good down-and-dirty sex." He shook his head as Lucas smiled at the thought. "They'll never feel free enough to do it though, as long as all of us are hangin' around, ready to barge in on 'em at any minute.

"Y'know, it's suddenly gotten real quiet in there," Sam grinned, nodding toward the bedroom. "What say you'n I go join the fun . . . unless, of course," Sam murmured, as he stroked Lucas' penis, "you want to go someplace private . . . just you'n me."

"That's an invitation that's almost too good to ignore. But, you'n I can play later on tonight, or tomorrow. What's going on in the bedroom probably won't be repeated. So . . . let's go join the party." He pulled Sam into a tight embrace, and murmured, close to Sam's ear.

"Have I told you lately, Mister Bridgers, how much I love you?"

"You can tell me as often as you like," Sam murmured, a moment before his lips found Lucas'.

They separated, as Owen walked into the living room.

"Hi'ya, Owen," Sam said, holding out an arm in an invitation for Owen to join them. "Lucas n'I were just talkin' 'bout how much we both love you. C'mere."

"You'd really decided on leavin'?" Sam asked, after a lengthy kiss and embrace.

Owen thought a moment. "Yes." There was a pause. "I didn't want to, 'cause'a you guys n'all, but I just didn't see another way."

"And you do now?" Lucas asked.

Owen grinned crookedly. "No. But, whatever I'm gonna find has gotta be here . . . in Riverton . . . with the both of you. Riley made me realize how bad a step it would be if I left. I've thought about things, since he and Corey talked to me. I visited a bit with Mama, and Abigail, and went out and sat on that big ol' rock at the river's edge." He looked into the eyes of his lovers. "Stayin' feels like the right thing to do. I was afraid I might have agreed to doin' something 'cause Riley is such a great talker. I wanted to make sure before tellin' you guys."

"Guys," Bailey called, from the bedroom. "The party's in here!"

"C'mon," Owen smiled. "The guys are wantin' to put on a show. I think it's exciting to watch. Besides, I like the idea of the guys watching us."

"It would have been better for everyone if neither of them had been born," Elizabeth Pruitt said, in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. She sat before her vanity table, brushing her hair, a task she claimed her maid always mucked up. "I mean," she went on, ignoring her husband's shocked expression, reflected in the mirror. "The two boys are good for nothing. They never will amount to anything.

"Riley will eventually manage to do something horrendous enough to bring disgrace to the family, and Nathan . . ." Elizabeth snorted, a most unladylike sound. "He will probably do something worse . . . The willful little bastard; always snubbing his nose at me, needing to have his own way. I hate people like that!" She laid the brush down on the crystal tray. "Disgusting . . . both of them."

"Elizabeth." Franklin Pruitt stood behind his wife. "Elizabeth," he repeated, finally getting a reflected view of his wife's attention. "You constantly amaze me at how reprehensible you can be. Your thoughts about your sons are inexcusable. Unlike their older brother, and sister, the boys have a mind of their own. That is what you find distasteful . . . someone who is able . . . and willing . . . to stand up to you. I find their behavior refreshing."

Elizabeth looked away, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "You would." She stopped herself before saying something which might cause her husband to think for himself. 'He's entirely too much like the boys,' she thought to herself. 'They even look like him!'

"I don't know why I ever even considered marrying you, or," she added, "why I stay married to you."

"The answer to both questions, my dear," Franklin said, in a sweet voice, which she had never heard him use, "is money. I have it. Your father, bless his sorry, criminal blood sucking, incarcerated soul . . . lost his, and therefore yours. You needed to survive, maintaining the lifestyle to which you had become accustomed, so, no matter how distasteful you found it, you married me . . . probably because I was the only person, with enough money, who happened to be paying attention to you, at the time. What I continue to wonder is what I saw in you, beyond a pretty face."

Elizabeth Pruitt's eyes sharpened, as she studied his reflection in the mirror. 'He is definitely behaving strangely. This independent kind of thinking can't be allowed to continue.'

"Ahh, but I was young, and being young, I thought the woman I told myself I loved, would remain beautiful forever." His smile did not reach his eyes, as he continued speaking.

"And, as for why you remain married to me, besides the fact that I have money, and your father is, to put it mildly, destitute, is the fact that, by being married to me you have a means of remaining in polite society. If you divorced me, where would you be? You'd still have some money, but not the constant source you have today. But, you would become a marked woman. The society ladies, with whom you associate, would shun you, a divorced woman, with no visible means of support.

"And," Franklin concluded. "You must admit it, my dear. Even with the facelifts, you are no longer the beauty you once were. Should you leave me, I expect it would be . . . difficult . . . to attract someone to support you. Most people our age are not as gullible as I was during my youth. All I saw was a pretty face. I never realized an ogre lurked beneath." He gently patted her shoulder, ignoring her outraged breathing. "Today, my dear, the ogre is about all I see.

"No loving mother would ever speak about two of her children the way you do. One would think that you believe you can bring a child into the world, and abandon him. That would suit you, wouldn't it, my love?" he said, speaking in a tone of voice which did not match the words he was using. "The only thing better than having someone else rear a child of yours would be for someone else to have carried the child to term." He shook his head, turning away and walking toward his bedroom. "Stretch marks, you know. Nasty business. So difficult to get rid of . . . without a plastic surgeon's assistance."

"YOU!" Elizabeth rounded on her husband, no longer able to control her temper.

"Yes?" Franklin paused. 'Have I pushed her far enough to impulsively ask for a divorce?' he asked himself. She lowered the hairbrush she was about to toss at him. 'Alas, not today,' he sighed.

"You're just as bad as those two boys. You treat me awfully. I, the mother of your children! I have slaved to uphold your place in society. I am the reason your construction company," she almost spat the words, "is a success. You remember that, Franklin. You are a success because of me."

Franklin smiled. "Yes dear. Whatever you say. Now, stop frowning, love. Unsightly lines, you know," he added, smiling when his wife quickly turned to her vanity's mirror.

Nathan looked up at the gentle knock on his bedroom door. He'd been amusing himself by developing a business plan for a fictitious business . . . one headed by his brother and himself, in a place far away from his . . . mother.

"Yes?"

His father cracked the door and stuck his head into the room. "Are you busy? If not, I'd like to visit, for a bit."

Nathan turned away from his computer. "I'm never too busy for you, Dad," he smiled. "Come in, come in. You'll have to sit on the bed though. I've forbidden the maid to even peek into the room. It may be a mess, but there is an underlying orderliness to it. I know precisely where I toss everything," he laughed. "Besides," he said, lowering his voice, "Mother hates it." He held out his arms to his sides and brightly smiled. "Therefore, the mess must be a good thing."

Nathan's smile faded as he watched his father gently close the door, cross the room and flop backward onto the bed, angrily arranging a pillow beneath his head.

"Mother's done something?"

"Who else?"

"Father . . . you are torturing yourself by allowing this to continue. You may have loved her once, but I cannot believe you still do . . . not with the way she behaves." The room was quiet for a few long minutes. Finally, Nathan spoke. "Dad . . . Why are you going to Germany with Mother and everyone? I mean really? Don't tell me you're looking forward to some time away. Going to Germany and listening to Mother go on about Lisa marrying into German royalty has gotten old, and the happy couple isn't even married yet. I wonder if Helmut, or whatever his name is, has a clue what he's getting into. I mean . . . Mother and Lisa!" Nathan shook his head.

"One has no trouble telling that the dear girl is her mother's daughter. That's for sure."

Nathan slouched in his chair, crossing his arms. "Poor bastard. Helmut, I mean. Someone needs to warn the unfortunate soul so he has time to hide." Nathan thought a moment. "Nah! It'd never work. Mother and Lisa wouldn't rest until they'd turned over every rock in Germany lookin' for him. After all . . . he is heir to a castle!" Nathan chuckled. "I didn't think they even had castles in Germany.

"So . . ." Nathan coaxed. "Why are you going?"

Franklin Pruitt shrugged, from where he lay on the bed. "I don't really know. I've got some important stuff going on here. It would be best for me to be here for the transition. I keep telling myself, though, that I've just got to let the people I've hired do their job."

"Care to talk about it? You're not normally this cryptic."

Franklin propped himself up on his elbows and studied his son, reaching a decision. He pried off his shoes then sat on the bed, cross legged, leaning against the bed's headboard.

"I've talked to Riley about some fears I have. I told him that he and you are the only two people in the family I implicitly trust. So, it stands to reason that you should have the same information your brother has."

Nathan quietly watched his father, then moistened his lips. "Thanks, Dad. I'm not joking, or anything. I really do mean, thanks . . . for trusting me, n'all. It makes me feel really good." He flicked a penetrating glance at his father. "It's also good to know you're not being controlled by Mother."

Franklin compressed his lips. "I'm sorry to say that I have been under your mother's spell for too long. The time for that is over." Franklin Pruitt lowered his voice. "Nathan . . . something slimy is going on with the firm's attorneys. I don't know what. I am sure, though, that it somehow involves your mother, and I am not going to let it continue. So, I've been meeting with Riley's boyfriend's father, George, and the people who represent his company. We've met both at his company's headquarters, and here. Your mother doesn't know anything about the meetings, nor do any of her cronies at the law firm.

"Anyhow . . . I'm firing the lot of 'em, and replacing them with some new blood, with no connections to Atlanta, or to any big name family, or anything.

"In fact, the new men have already set up a small office, with two attorneys, and a couple of support staff to oversee the transition. I gave 'em some space close to my office. Everyone thinks I've brought in some people for a hush hush construction project. No one in the office is asking questions, and the new men aren't offering any clues. A tight-lipped group, they are. They answer to me, and only me." Franklin chuckled. "I love it!"

The older man sobered. "Nathan, you also need to know, that should anything ever happen to me, those attorneys have been instructed to take orders only from your brother and you. I know he doesn't want to have anything to do with the business, but, in an emergency like that, he knows that he will have to take charge. With you at his side, the right decisions will be made.

"Anyhow, getting back to the new men. They're doing all they can until the actual transition takes place. Everything is ready to go, at a moment's notice. They've brought in a couple high-powered accountants to dissect the company's books. It was like pulling teeth to get those slimy bastard friends of your mothers to surrender the records, but I went over there personally, and wouldn't leave until I had copies. I didn't want to give 'em a chance to change anything. That may have given them a hint how displeased I am, but . . . I had to get those records for the new folks."

"You intend it to happen when you and Mother are in Germany?"

Franklin nodded. "So she won't be able to hightail it down to the offices when those skum-bags come cryin' to her. Damn it, Nathan! That woman thinks she and her buddies at the law firm own the company, and that the only thing I'm useful for is to bring in the money to keep her happy!"

"It would be best if I were here during all this, but I have no excuse." He grinned, mischievously. "Any ideas about how one might be created? I'd like nothing better than to send your mother, your brother, his dear wife, the grandchildren, and Lisa, off on that airplane by themselves, so they can annoy all the other passengers instead of me."

He gestured to the computer display. "What are you working on? I thought maybe you'd be surfing the web, or something."

"Nah. I do that some, but there's only so much titillation a guy can take, right?"

"I won't go there," Franklin said, in a droll voice.

"That's probably for the best. For the chance at a little lively conversation, though, I am more than happy to describe the things which turn me on and . . ."

"Nathan!"

Franklin's son studied him with a smile and raised brows. "You don't want to know what sort of things I find exciting?"

"We can discuss that at a later time, perhaps. As long as it doesn't involve animals, dead people, or children, I'm happy. However, I need to be able to talk about the things which turn me on," Franklin grinned.

"Deal!" Nathan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and smiling brightly. "That'd be cool. I know all about what Riley likes, but . . ." Nathan frowned, intensely studying his father. "Dead people?"

"I asked what you were working on," his father interrupted.

Nathan made a casual gesture. "Nothing really. I was just working up a business plan for a fictitious company with Riley, his boyfriend, and me as the head honchos. Riley and Bailey could boss everyone around, and I could use my innate charm to keep everyone happy. Right?" Nathan turned an ingenuous expression on his father . . . who ignored it.

"Business plan?"

"Yeah. I didn't have anything better to do, so I was working up a plan for a new trucking business. Riley's boyfriend's family is into trucking, and Riley was telling me that Bailey, that's his boyfriend, has tossed around the idea of going out on his own. I thought it'd be fun to see what I could come up with."

Franklin stood and dragged a chair to his son's side, squeezing Nathan's shoulder in a move he never would have considered with anyone in the family, other than Riley. "Describe your thoughts," he said. "Let's see what you've created."

~ to be continued ~

Thank you for taking a few minutes to read my story. If you'd like to receive pics of the characters, as I envision them, please write: roynm@mac.com.

Another of my stories, Phalen, also appears on this website.