Here's the latest chapter. I warn you, that the next few installments get a bit intense as we head into the action part of the story. My sincere thanks to Kyle and Doug who send the most entertaining ideas and encouragement. If I don't get Chapter 7 done before X-mas, Happy Holidays to all.
rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Thanks,
Dan
Southern Knights 6:
Thanksgiving Day found the Corbridge's and their adopted son heading for the ancestral home, Tate's grandparents. For the entire twenty-minute ride, Pat and Bryce held a rear-view mirror conversation about the architecture of the house itself, a large Victorian.
Tate sighed in relief as they finally pulled into the driveway, unsure if he could take much more detail about how the house was built. Pat held the seat forward for Bryce to climb out of the Eldorado, and followed him towards the porch, pointing at various features.
Tate climbed out and stood with his mother, shaking his head. It was unbelievable how well Bryce got along with his dad, especially where any form of building was concerned.
"Those two should be locked up." Lorna chuckled, waiting for Tate to close the door. "I thought I'd go crazy."
"Me, too." Tate offered his arm to his mother and led her to the house. Just inside the door, Velda Ann Breadford Corbridge had Bryce in a hug. Tate chuckled and joined in. "Hi, Grandma."
"Oh, you're to big to get my arms around!" Velda said merrily. "And this beautiful fellow is just right." She hugged Bryce again before stepping back. Velda was 83, but looked decades younger. She wore her silver hair up in a bun, and dressed in a high collared ankle length skirt.
Pat took Bryce by the shoulder and guided him into the parlor to meet Hampton Patrick Corbridge. The older member of the family had just turned 85 a month ago, but stood very straight and had plenty of fire in his eyes. Bryce liked them both.
"So you're the new Grandkid, are ya?" Hampton smiled and offered his hand.
"A good looking strapper you are, too."
"Thank you, sir." Bryce blushed, surprised at the strength he felt in the man's grip.
"Put your coats in the den, and hurry to the table." Velda shooed everyone to get moving. "I have dinner ready, and we can get acquainted while we eat." She led them into the dining room and waved for Lorna and Bryce to help bring it to the table.
Bryce looked around in wonder at what he considered the most fantastic house he'd ever seen. Every detail from the light fixtures to the carpet runners was perfect, harmonious to the overall look. It was almost breath taking.
With steaming bowls and platters on the table, they sat down, Hampton at the head of the table with Velda opposite, and Tate and Bryce on one side facing Tate's parents.
They joined hands for the blessing, Bryce looking quickly at Tate and blushing, and Hampton gave a rather lengthy recount of the year. As he ended, he opened his eyes and looked at Bryce. "We thank thee, oh Lord, for the newest Corbridge, Bryce, and ask that you are watchful over his mother. Let his heart not be weighed down, and may he be with us always. Amen."
Bryce swallowed hard, his eyes getting moist. All he could do was nod towards his new Grandpa, not trusting himself to speak. He glanced back at the rest of the group and found all eyes on him. His face was on fire, but he smiled at them. "I have a lot to be thankful for." He said quietly, squeezing Tate's hand.
The meal took over an hour. Tate leaned back and stretched, and then leaned over to kiss his Grandma on the cheek. "Thanks, Grandma, it was perfect." She patted his cheek.
Pat put his napkin on the table and leaned back, sipping at his wine. "Anyway, Bryce, that's when the house was finished. I did as much of the renovations as I could."
"It's perfect." Bryce reached out and picked up the glass of wine he'd been given and sipped at it.
"Did you show him the arch?" Hampton asked, pointing over his head where there was an obvious bulge in the ceiling near the wall.
"What's wrong with it?" Bryce asked, liking the taste of the wine.
"Like the rest of the house, it's made out of stone. The archway is collapsing, and we can't figure out a way to take the pressure off without the whole thing falling in, maybe the upstairs wall, too." Pat sighed in disgust. "We tried to set up a scaffold and support it that way, but the uneven pressure on the ceiling started to tear it apart."
Bryce looked up at the arch and tilted his head. "So you need a way to put even pressure on both sides of the archway?" Pat nodded. An idea formed in Bryce's head, and he tilted his head the other way. "What about air pressure?"
"How d'you mean?"
Bryce pointed with his finger at the ceiling. "Use air pressure. It has to be even, like a big balloon or something, but with hard sides to contain the balloon."
"Hard sides?" Pat leaned forward and looked at the arch. "How would that work?"
"I'm not sure. Kinda like an accordion?" Bryce held his hands up. "I can see it, but I can't describe it."
"Dad, is there some paper in your den?" Pat stood up and pushed his chair in. "Come on, boy, show me what you mean." Bryce stood up and followed with Hampton.
"Did either of you get any of that?" Tate chuckled and stood up, picking up two serving bowls to take to the kitchen.
"It was greek to me." Velda stood up and followed Tate. "I didn't think the house needed repairs last time Pat did it."
"Here we go again." Lorna shook her head and helped clear the table.
Bryce sat at enormous oak desk, sketching his idea on a legal pad. Pat was impressed with the neatness of the sketch, and with the details. He glanced at his father and found the old man smiling proudly.
"See, this is what I couldn't describe, Pat. These sides are a hard plastic or something, and they contain the balloon, pushing all the pressure up. You could build it as part of the scaffolding to support it, and control the exact amount of pressure you put in it."
"Huh." Pat shook his head. "With one of these things on each side of the arch, we could take out the damaged stone and replace it, and the house would never no it happened." He tousled Bryce's hair. "You mind if I let a couple of people look at this drawing?"
"You can have it." Bryce glowed as he pulled the paper out of the notebook and handed it to Pat.
After pumpkin pie and a couple of hours of football, they finally headed for the car. It was getting dark, and a light snow was falling. Bryce hugged Velda and thanked her for the best dinner he'd ever had, and helped Tate carry leftovers to the car.
They snoozed in the backseat on the way home, their legs rubbing together. The gentle ride of the car was like being rocked to sleep, and before long they were home. Bryce moved up the stairs slowly, yawning.
"Boys, I'm going into town tomorrow to do the shopping. I could use some help." Lorna called after them. Tate turned and nodded, then followed Bryce up the stairs. Pat took their coats and put them away.
"Did I tell you about Bryce's idea to fix mom and dad's house?" He asked, smiling at her. "That little shit solved a problem I've had for how many years?"
"You rebuilt their house in '92." She answered, sitting at the kitchen table. "What was so interesting?"
"Lorna, he came up with an idea, an air driven apparatus, that was a work of art. Look at this." He unfolded the paper for her. "Look how precise it is." He told her about the features. "I can't believe the way that kid's mind works. This drawing is about as professional; without any tools you're gonna see, Honey."
"So what are you going to do, Pat?"
"I'm gonna let the boys at work redraw it, and I'm going to try it, that's what I'm going to do." He chuckled and sat across from her. "Do you think he'd go into engineering?"
"I think that he would do whatever you asked him to. Can't you see the way he looks at you? He worships you as much as Tate does." She smiled fondly at her husband.
"We get to keep him, right?" Pat asked. "I mean the courts and all wouldn't take him away?"
"Pat, he is legally your son. No one will take away what's yours."
He reached across the table and took her hands. "I think that's the best Christmas present you ever got me."
Lorna laughed and caressed his hand. "It's okay to love him, Pat. You've got two sons now."
Bryce pulled of his clothes and put on a loose tank top and shorts. Tate stripped to his boxers and flopped on the bed and turned on the TV. He slid over and made room for Bryce, turning off the lamp.
"I feel like I'm gonna explode." Bryce flumped back on the pillows. "I don't think I ever saw that much food in one place."
Tate chuckled. "You didn't eat that much, so you probably won't suffer death by leftover like me and Dad." He rubbed his bare stomach appreciatively.
"I ate as much as I could. Your Grandmother kept filling my plate." Bryce snuggled up to Tate and pulled the covers up.
"You mean your Grandmother. Velda'd have a fit if she thought you weren't as attached to her as she was to you." Tate adjusted the covers and flipped the channel to VH-1. "She really liked you. So did Grandpa."
"I liked them too."
Tate watched the TV in a sort of doze, hearing Bryce's breathing even out and get deeper. Bryce's head rested on his arm, and his arm and leg draped over Tate's chest and torso. It was moments like this that Tate loved the most. Normal everyday minutes in time, where they were just like everybody else. Thinking these thoughts, he drifted off.
He was shaken awake from a dream. He blinked up at his mother. "Huh?" Lorna held a finger to her lips and pointed at Bryce, and Tate nodded, sliding carefully out of bed. It was 2:35 AM on his alarm clock as they went out of the room and down the stairs.
Tate felt his chest pounding. His mother had just caught them in bed together, and it was making him sick to his stomach. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, and Tate could tell she'd been crying. Guilt flooded through him, and he sat down heavily on the steps.
"Mom, I'm sorry." He whispered, lowering his head.
"Honey, what are you talking about?" She asked, sitting next to him.
"Me and Bryce. I didn't mean for you to find out that way." He looked sideways at her, but couldn't meet her eyes.
Lorna gathered her robe about her. "Tate, that is the worst kept secret in the house. Even your dad knows." He looked up at her, astonished, and she put her arms around his shoulders. "I guess you think we're completely blind?"
"I guess not." Tate closed his eyes.
"I didn't get you up to discuss your choices, son. The hospital just called. Bryce's mother died." She sagged against the wall. "They said it was peaceful."
"Oh, no." He whispered, picturing Bryce's heart breaking. He'd known this was coming, but there wasn't much they could do to help him. Tate shook his head and stood up to get a throw from the couch. It was chilly.
"Do I get him up, or do I let him sleep?" She asked, feeling tears rolling again.
"If it was you, I would want to know." Tate wrapped up in the blanket. "I think we should wake him up." The door opened up stairs, and Tate looked up to see the shadow of Bryce moving to the top of the stairs. "Guess we don't have to."
Hesitantly, Bryce came down the stairs. It was obvious that something was up, and he felt his stomach tighten. Tate surprised him at the foot of the stairs by holding his blanket open, and without a thought Bryce moved in to feel Tate's arms close around him. "What's the matter?" He asked, not really wanting to know.
"Like I told Tate, the gig is up on you two, and apparently you're the last one in the house to know." Lorna smiled at him and reached out to touch his cheek. "But that's not why we're up, Honey. You Momma has passed away."
Bryce could feel each beat of his heart slamming in his chest, and his vision narrowed. He tried to swallow and couldn't. "Did she suffer?" He asked almost silently. His legs buckled, and Tate supported him.
"No, Honey, she didn't. She died in her sleep." Lorna sniffed loudly. "Oh, Bryce, I am so sorry."
"It's okay." He mumbled, feeling shock setting in. Tate led him to the couch and they curled up together, Bryce lying in Tate's lap. "What do I do now?" He looked up at Tate.
"I don't know little buddy. I guess you stay with me."
Lorna had gone into the kitchen and brought them each a can of Coke. "Bryce, I heard your question, and I want you to know something. Pat and I adopted you. We didn't just take custody, we did a legal adoption. That was your mother's wish."
"So I'm a Corbridge now?" He asked numbly. It was hard to think.
"If that's what you want, yes, but you never have to worry about your family. We are your family now." She sat down in Pat's easy chair. "You belong here as much as Tate does."
"Even with the.....uh....." Tate couldn't say it.
"Don't be an idiot, Tate. Being Gay isn't a crime. Your Dad's not really excited, but he loves you both. Just don't rub it in his face, okay?" Lorna said firmly, curling her legs under her robe. "Show him the same respect you want from him."
Bryce listened as though he were in a tunnel. He stared in to nothingness, surprised that he didn't want to cry. In fact, he didn't feel anything, just hollow. He sipped the Coke, only to find it had little taste.
"I will, Momma, I promise." Tate offered, holding out his hand to his mother.
"Actually," she took his hand and smiled, "You two have been remarkably discreet. I've been expecting a major slip of some kind."
"We like our privacy." Bryce said quietly, and then looked up at his new mother. "Lorna, I didn't mean that to sound mean."
She chuckled. "I don't believe you have a mean bone in your body, kiddo." Lorna yawned and shook her head. "If someone had told me a year ago the way our lives would turn out, I'd've laughed at them."
Two days later, in a cold drizzle, Bryce watched his mother buried. There can be no more profound sense of loneliness than to watch a parent die, and Bryce felt an intense nothingness inside. He wanted to grieve, to mourn his mother, but there were no emotions to give.
He took to his room, spending hours doing nothing, and accepted no visitors. Occasionally, he'd come down and join the family for meals, but he ate very little, subsisting mostly on fluids.
He slept alone for a week, feeling isolated, apart. He wanted to go in and get in bed with Tate, but he didn't want to, either. The nights were long and mostly sleepless, and yet his sense of time blurred, blending days into the next.
Finally, Tate had had enough. He'd worried about Bryce until his nerves were completely shot. He paced like a caged animal, and had no patience for anything. Standing in the garage with his dad, he suddenly stood up and gritted his teeth, throwing a wrench at the wall hard enough to imbed it in the sheet rock.
"This is bullshit!" He bellowed and headed for the door. Pat bumped his head underneath the car and scrambled out from under it, searching for what had caused the outburst.
"Tate?" He called, watching the door close with a slam.
Tate pulled off his coat and tossed it over a chair, not slowing his stride towards the stairs. He took them four at a time, heading for his room, and veering to Bryce's. He stopped to knock, sighed, and opened the door, walking in.
A large lump occupied the center of the bed, and there were clothes on the floor, strewn in disarray. Ordinarily, Tate admired a little chaos, but this was a mess even by his standards. Stepping through the piles, he launched himself onto the bed, landing lengthwise along the lump under the covers.
"Mmmph!" Came a sound from under the covers, and Tate reached up and pulled them down, exposing Bryce's disheveled hair. "Wow, you're alive." He said, watching Bryce blink into the sunlight.
"Go away, I wanna sleep." Bryce grumbled, tunneling back into the covers. Tate chewed on his lip a second, weighing his options, and slid off the bed.
He stood at the end of the mattress, sighed, and yanked the covers off the bed.
"What are you doin?" Bryce protested, trying to catch the covers. The cool air hit his bare skin, and he shivered. Tate jumped in and caught him around the waist and lifted him off the sheets. "Tate, what the hell are you doin?"
"Time to come back to the world, Baby," Tate headed for the bathroom, carrying an upside down and struggling Bryce with him. "You smell, and you need a shower."
"Let me go, dammit! I don't want a shower!" Bryce caught the door jam with his hands, but couldn't match Tate's strength. "Tate, stop it!"
Tate struggled to hold Bryce with one arm and reached in to turn on the water. "This hybernatin' bullshit's over, Bryce. You're going to come back out into the world. I've had enough of this."
"I don't wanna shower!" Bryce yelled, kicking at Tate's chest. "Let me down and get out!"
Tate dropped Bryce's feet to the floor and grabbed his arms painfully. "Listen to me! You are not dead! I want you back in my life right now, and I'm not letting you crawl back into that bed and pretend the world ain't there, got it?"
"Don't shout at me!" Bryce started sobbing and tried to pound on Tate's chest. "I don't want to get out of bed, and I don't want to go out there. Leave me alone!"
Tate reached down and yanked on the waistband of Bryce's underwear, snapping it. "In, now." He said harshly, pushing Bryce into the water. "You can either wash yourself, or I'll do it. Decide, now."
"I'll do it." Bryce shoved Tate back and closed the door, sinking to the floor crying.
Tate shook his head and went out into the bedroom and began picking up clothes. He stopped and looked up to see his father leaning on the door jam. "Hey, Pop."
"You're degree in psychology came out of a Crackerjack box, didn't it?" Pat asked, smiling slightly. "For what it's worth, I think your doing the right thing. Just be prepared for the tornado you're hangin' onto." He winked and left.
Tate shook his head and went back to picking up the room. He took all of the sheets of and put all of the laundry by the door. The water stopped, and he looked up as Bryce came out, a towel around his waist.
"You bruised me, you asshole." Bryce sniffed, stopping a few feet away.
"I'm sorry." Tate offered, meaning it. "I need you back out here with me, Bryce. You're not the one who died, but it's kinda felt that way to me."
Bryce looked down and sniffed. "I don't want to feel lonely either."
Tate moved a little closer. "You don't have to. I'm right here. It's okay to cry on my shoulder. It goes with the deal."
"I can't cry, I tried." Bryce sat on the edge of the bed. "Lorna said I'd feel better if I did, but it ain't happenin'."
Tate looked into Bryce's drawn face and felt it tug his heart. He lowered himself onto the bed and waited, not sure what to say. Bryce looked at him and met his eyes, and then shook his head. "It's hard to be the only one left, you know?"
"You aren't, though." Tate put his arm around the other's shoulders. "I can't bring her back, Bryce, but I can promise you're not alone." Bryce settled against him and put his head on Tate's shoulder. "It may not seem very important, but you're a Corbridge now. We need you."
Bryce began to shake gently, and Tate put his other arm around the only person that ever meant anything to him and held him while he cried. Tate cried, too, gently rocking Bryce. He would give anything to take some of that pain away, anything.
Lorna stopped at the door to Bryce's room and leaned against the wall. In the same instant, her heart broke for Bryce, and burst with pride for Tate. Her son, now her eldest son, looked up at her and smiled slightly, never breaking the rhythm of the rocking.
The tears on Tate's cheeks were clearly evident, and she swallowed her own back. She smiled bravely for him and nodded, and turned to go back down stairs. Funny how she'd started thinking of them as 'Her boys' sometime ago, and she had to admit that they had a way of working into her heart.
She fixed supper as usual, and in a flash of insight set a place for Bryce, as though everything was fine. Pat glanced at the table as he walked in from the garage and looked up at her, and kept going towards their room to clean up, not commenting.
Tate came down before long, hugged her, then helped chop up a salad, all without a word. They worked together and put the meal on the table. Pat came back into the kitchen and took his place at the head of the table, and Lorna sat down opposite. Tate sat down and put his Coke on the table, then stopped, looking past Lorna.
Pat looked up and smiled, pointing without moving his hand very much. Lorna turned to see Bryce coming down the stairs, dressed and with his hair neatly styled. She turned back to them and growled quietly. "Leave him alone and let him eat something."
"Who, me?" Pat chuckled. Bryce walked in and sat down at the table, and Tate looked at him across the table reassuringly.
"I was beginning to think you'd moved out." Pat remarked. Bryce grinned at him, accepting a light punch on the shoulder. "Eat, boy, before it gets cold."
"Yes, sir." Bryce dished up small amounts and started eating, even though his heart wasn't in it. Lorna and Pat talked about the cost of their new alarm service, and Tate talked with Pat about football scores. Bryce just listened; glad he'd come down. It was good just to hear speaking.
"By the way, son," Pat looked at Bryce as he cut his meat. "I'd like to take you to see something after dinner, if you feel up to a drive."
"What's that?" Bryce asked, being watched closely by Tate and Lorna as he took more food and put it on his plate. They looked at each other and grinned, then went back to their plates.
"Well, there was this upstart little shit that came up with an idea, see, and he showed up a bunch of old smartasses." Pat took a bite and continued.
"Anyway, this little shit came up with an idea that was so simple that they all whacked themselves in the head. They took his drawing and made technical specs out of it, and then they built one."
Bryce's eyes widened as it dawned on him what was being said. "Holy shit, you built one!" Pat nodded, and Bryce shoved his chair back and wrapped his arms around his adoptive father's neck. "I can't believe it! You really made one."
"Jesus, son, I can't breath." Pat laughed and hugged Bryce. "I told you I would."
"Are you gonna use it at Grandma and Grandpa's house?" He asked, sitting back down.
"Not only are we gonna use it, we're gonna sell 'em!" Pat grinned broadly.
"I patented it in your name, Bryce. You're gonna be a wealthy little shit before long."
Tate whooped and hollered, embarrassing Bryce. Lorna laughed and slapped his arm. After everyone settled down and went back to their meals, Bryce looked up at Pat and Lorna. "I was wondering if you would let me do something."
"What's that? Lorna asked.
"I was talking to Tate, and he said that I'm a Corbridge now, is that right?" Bryce looked at Pat, blushing, but not looking away.
"It certainly is." Pat said seriously. "Is that okay?"
"Yes, sir, it is. I was kind of hoping you'd let me change my last name to Corbridge."
Pat met Lorna's eyes, and he couldn't think of what to say. "Well, Bryce, of course you can, if that's what you want."
Lorna took Bryce's hand across the table. "Honey, I think it's a little soon to make a choice like that. Shouldn't you wait just a little longer?"
Bryce shook his head. "No. My old family is gone, and I'm here now. I really like the idea, and I kinda hoped you would, too."
Pat's blank expression changed to a sort of warm pride. "If that's what my kid wants, that's what he gets." He held up his arms, and Bryce moved into an embrace. "I'll get somebody on it right after supper."
"That's so fucking cool!" Tate said quietly, and then realized what he'd said. His face turned red. "Sorry, Momma."
One week later, a judge signed the paperwork, and Bryce Corbridge left the courthouse with his father. It was the happiest day he could remember.