Date: Fri, 16 Mar 2007 08:03:57 -0700 (PDT) From: Matthew Templar Subject: Never Take Love For Granted - Chapter 4 All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. Furthermore, every word of this story is fiction. Nothing within this tale happened to anyone I know. Any reference to anyone, anything or any place, real, living or dead is coincidental. If there is someone that has written a law saying that you can't read this story because of age or local laws or other such 'wisdom', then you haven't really gotten this far into Nifty to read this anyway, right! Write to me with the date of your legal birthday and I will...Not! While the main thrust (try not to get excited by the graphic words before you even get to the story) of this work is not sex, there will be those times when it will occur between consenting adults and at least one consenting minor. There will never be a plethora of sexual trysts in this story. Though there will be some, I found myself caught up in the hearts of the characters, not their libidos. There will be a lot of bedroom scenes, but their emphasis will be on sleeping and waking and things like that, spiced occasionally with something to let the characters sleep more peacefully. I would ask that you wait until you have read five chapters to see the characters and their relationships unfold. You don't have to wait to express your opinion as I would also appreciate knowing if you are enjoying this story. I will answer all appropriate emails, but, thank you in advance for your time. Finally, there is not enough room to express my gratitude to Dwight Wilson for his dedication to resolving the problems I had with making legible sense out of this work and then encouraging me to hit the 'Submit' button. Read Brad's Idol in Adult/Youth and New Horizons in Authoritarian to know the experience he brings to my story. Your comments and suggestions are welcome. Matt at matemp1148@yahoo.com Never Take Love For Granted - Chapter 4 "Grant, I was wondering..." "So, you're in here again." My red headed nurse had returned with a tray in her arms and a scowl on her face. It caused Grant to stiffen up and move around the bed, almost behind me, as he got farther away from her. "I've a good mind to paddle your fanny and send you packing, little one." Oo-oo-oo. I cringed. She wasn't making any points with Grant, but that was certainly not her intent. "But I...," he tried to explain. "But he...." I tried to help him. "I'll not be having your dusty body and clothes all over him while his sores are healing." She said this in as stern a tone as I have ever imagined, and with a look that was cutting. Then, just as quickly, she walked over to a shivering Grant and placed her hand on his shoulder, undoubtedly, to whisk him out of the room. Then, in the kindest, most loving, grandmotherly voice that could melt butter, no, plastic, she explained. "Now, me boy, we can't have him getting his wounds infected and get sicker than he is. You've got to get cleaned up before you come back to visit your dad." My eyes sought out his in a split second to see him roll his back, as though the cat was out of the bag. "Ma'am? I..." "Please call me Nurse O'Hara." "Thank you. Nurse O'Hara, Grant has been through a lot this past week. He hasn't had time to be home much, and his mother is gone." I reached over and grabbed him and started petting him like a lost dog, hoping it was irking him to no end, or at least, embarrassing him some. "It's all he can do to ride his bike over to the hospital?" Grant jerked out of my reach and they both looked at me like I had instantly turned green or something. In perfect harmony they both exclaimed, "Forty miles?" "Huh?" Did I say I was good on the upswing with quick come backs? "Son," said my red-headed healer, "You're in West Fork. There is no hospital in Euphoria, where you live. This boy hasn't been riding back and forth forty miles. He's been sleeping under the heat ducts, next to the hospital building, haven't you, boy? I think I had better go find Dr. Owen. You've got more damage upstairs then we thought." She hurried out of the room, luckily, after setting down the tray. "Boy, did we get her good, huh?" said a giddy voice, with the assurance that he eluded his captor again. "We? I'd say YOU'VE got some explaining to do, SON." How does that work? One instant I'm the poor patient, on his last leg, and the next, I'm using the fatherly voice that I'd come to hate when it came from my father a few months ago. "Oh, well, a-a..." He looked like he was backing toward his coat to make a dash for the door, since he'd been discovered. "Now wait a minute! Just stop and talk to me. I don't want you running and I don't want anyone mad at you. Let's talk this out. But first I have a suggestion." I heard a sniff, but his back was turned toward me so I couldn't hear what he said. "Look, Grant. You have to admit, you aren't the cleanest right now." I saw him raise his arms and look down and around, inspecting himself. I looked around and saw a stack of scrubs on a cart near the door. "Grant, real quick, go in the bathroom and take a shower. Put on a pair of those scrubs and then she can't say anything or kick you out. We'll figure out how to get some of your things later. Whaddya say, guy?" As I was speaking, his eyes were traveling to the parts of the room I was referring to, as if working it all out in his head. "A shower? Here? In front of everybody? I don't know." "Grant, I have no idea why you have stayed here all this time. But I know that if you don't do this right now, your fun is over. You go in there and scrub good; hair, neck, face, butt and fingernails, and use soap, or you'll be on your way home when the doctor gets here." "Oh, brother." It was like he knew he would melt if he got wet. But I remembered how I hated to bathe at anyone else's house with a passion. I didn't much like it at my house, but at a friends or relatives? I could sympathize. But I was firm. "You decide, Grant. Stay and get clean or leave in a few minutes. What's it going to be?" He moved with the speed of Russ' Dodge and I thought he was going out, but he opened the door to the bathroom and started to close it behind him. "Do a good job, Grant, and hurry!" He looked up like there was a guillotine in there instead of a shower, and closed the door. A minute passed and you could just hear the water turn on. I reached out and pulled the tray over toward me and started to eat cold oatmeal and drink warm coffee. It seemed like hours when I heard the water stop, then a few minutes of silence: probably drying a body time. Then a very clear and upset voice saying, "Oh no!" "Are you okay in there?" "All there was to dry me was two hand towels." I asked if he was dry and he said that he was but that wasn't the problem. "I left the clean things out there." "Yeah?" "I'm naked!" I guess some people care more about that kind of thing then I do, at times. "Grant, it's okay. If you hurry, it's just me. If you wait, you'll have an audience that might not be as understanding. Besides, I was naked just a few minutes ago and it didn't seem to be a problem. Shoe's on the other foot, huh?" "Very funny. Okay. Here I come." The door swung open but no one came out. Then Grant's wet head appeared and looked my way. "Hey. No fair. You're lookin'." "Grant, if you don't hurry..." He nodded with a scowl and ran the four steps to the cart by the door. He stood there for a minute going through the pile to find a set of tops and bottoms. He was almost pure white. His skin was definitely clean, if a little wet, and was stretched over his child"s frame as perfectly as I could imagine. If he had turned into marble at that moment I wouldn"t have been surprised to find out that he was a classic sculpture. In other words, he was a perfectly natural boy, albeit naked, with his share of bruises and scrapes. When he turned to look at me, his face showed a smile of gratitude, but not quite relaxed in his state of undress. I shook my head to clear those thoughts when I thought I heard voices. Just as he grabbed another handful of scrubs to see if they were a pair, there was talking outside the door to my room. It was clearly the nurse and a man. I started waving him over whispering for him to dress on the other side of the bed. He ran the few steps around to the window side of the bed and the sun was shining in on him...where was this coming from? I shook my head again. It could only be caused by the blast or my medicine or.... "Well, I hear you're awake, young man," said the man as the door opened and he and Nurse O'Hara came in. I had taken my eyes off of Grant in shock at my feelings and looked over to see them approach the bed. I did a double take in fear for Grant and switched back to him. Fortunately, he was just pulling on a blue, crisp, clean shirt. As I sighed in relief I looked into his face. Only he didn't look relieved at all. His eyes went down and I saw the reason for his concern. He still hadn't put any pants on. Luckily, the shirt covered him below anything that would be embarrassing, but it would still leave some questions in our guest's minds. "Yes, sir," I said quickly, "But I sure am parched. Could you get me a fresh glass of water from the bathroom, please?" Without thinking it through, they both turned to head for the bathroom. Then they both looked at each other as if to ask which of them was going. Finally, the nurse turned one way and the doctor turned toward me. I looked to my side to see Grant pull up some britches. He stood up straight, relieved that he wasn't caught with his pants down. But the pants were way too big and slipped to the floor. He stooped to pull them up and gave me a 'what'll I do?' look. I reached to help hold them in place. My hand slid up his back with the waist in hand and I held him against the bed by moving my hand to his backside. He gave me a look of surprise and, I'd have to say that I was surprised too. For some reason this struck us both funny; nerves? "There's a string inside the front you need to pull tight, young DeWitt. What are you still doing here, my boy? You can't claim him till he's well. And your daddy isn't going to let you bring home anymore strays." I think we both gave him a look that suggested he wasn't being very funny. Grant found the string and pulled it, trapping my thumb between his cheeks until I could pry it out. The look on his face that time was priceless. "Well, well. We do clean up very nicely, lad," said the nurse as she returned with my water. "But what's this about his father, Dr. Owen? The boy shouldn't be left at home by himself. And our patient isn't ready to take his son home." "His son?" Okay. We tried to explain to both of them that Grant was not my son and that he was just concerned for me. This was the first person he'd ever saved and he was somewhat proud of the fact. He said, in his own words, that he must have been endeared to me and wanted to help to make sure I recovered. I think that, after finding me, he seemed to feel that he was the only one that could see me through my recovery. "But what about school and the forty mile trip each day, Grant?" the doctor asked. "'Tis no school until Monday, doctor. It's the Easter break," said my fine nurse in her most serious voice and with a glare of concern in her stare at Grant. "As for his abode, he's likely been staying next to the building, behind the dumpsters. It wouldn't be the first time." "I'm really sorry, doctor, but I had to see that he didn't die like you thought he would. If he needed blood or a kidney or something I wanted to help." Wow. My little savior was really laying it on thick. He glanced over and winked once. That's when I knew he was bound for acting school very soon. Grant's dad was finally called and told not to worry. He didn't have a car to come and pick up Grant so I suggested he call Russ, to which the doctor, Nurse O'Hara and Grant all looked at me in surprise. "How do you know Russ, son?" asked the doctor. "I, I met him when I got into Euphoria a few days, or maybe it's been..." I had no idea when that was anymore. Grant offered, "You were pissin' in my garden a week ago now." His head was down, trying to figure out how to tie the string with only one loop out of the same hole. When he heard nothing he looked up into the faces of three adults, one with a smirk (that was me) and two with mild shock at his wording. "What?" "Master DeWitt, your choice of words could be a bit refined," said O'Hara with a teacher's voice, complete with wagging finger. Grant shrugged and went back to his dilemma. I continued my explanation, "Russ was nice enough to put me up at the cabin on the hill if I helped him fix it up. I'm not even sure he knows what happened up there." "You mean to say Russ could be up there all this time and no one has been up there to check on him'" The doctor's voice was escalating with concern. "Nurse, we've got to send..." "Wait! Wait! Wait a minute," I leaped in, trying to stop the panic. "Russ was at a doctor's appointment when everything happened. He couldn't have made it into West Fork and then back in that little time. I'm sure he wasn't even close enough to hear it." "So...let me get this straight." The doctor tried to begin but I waved him off. I ended up explaining about my trip and some of the reasons, why I chose Euphoria, and how Russ caught me in the little fib about knowing Mitch. I didn't tell them any details about the truck ride up to the cabin or waking up the next morning. I wasn't even ready to hear that again. "Your mouths are open," I said to the doctor and O'Hara. I turned to share their silly faces with Grant and his was open too. I reached over and tried to shut his but he saw me coming and jumped back a step. "It could happen to anyone. What's the big deal." "Well, for one," came the sensible voice of my favorite nurse, "No one would ever believe those shenanigans, if you didn't have the scars on your cheeks to prove it." I must have looked a little surprised. Instantly, I looked around the room for a mirror and raised my hands to my face to check out what was left of my handsome countenance. "Not THOSE cheeks!" shouted the unison choir of my three visitors, all at once. My hands stayed to hide the blushing I'm sure I radiated. "Son, I came to see how you're progressing. I'd say you're out of danger of infection, almost all of your burns and sores are in the last stages of healing. My main concern is your physical strength and your movements." The doctor held a chart across his chest as he gave his evaluation. "Well, I ache a little and I'm still hungry, but other than that everything seems to move fine." I made a big show of moving my arms and legs so there was no doubt in their minds. "Not THAT kind of movement!" Another chorus from all three of my caretakers. Did they practice at someone's house at night or was this spontaneous? "Okay! Sheesh. Maybe if I had more going in we could tell a whole lot better how things were going out? I'm still hungry enough to eat the crotch out of a low flying duck!" The doctor ordered another breakfast tray (he didn't know that I didn't do breakfast) saying that the fiber would be good. He also prescribed some valium in case I became sore or just plain hurt. With that came a bottle of stool softeners, saying the codeine was the easiest, fastest way of creating bricks if I didn't supplement with the softeners. "And I think you're ready to start some walking. You need to try several times today for a few minutes to start. If you do well, with both kinds of movements (there was blushing from his patient) we might even let you loose tomorrow. Have you got some place to go?" I could see that question got the attention of my littlest visitor. He quickly started around the bed with one hand holding up his scrub pants and the other knotted around the loop of string that he found impossible to tie. I couldn't see but I could tell by the look on the faces on the other two that he must have been dragging half a pants leg under each foot as he approached the doctor. He didn't stop until he was practically leaning into him and looking straight up, into his face. As he began to speak, both hands let go of their loads to come together in a pleading motion for the doctor's benefit. But the result was the pants falling to the floor, leaving just the tops covering his essentials until his arms went up, taking the shirt with them. This left about half of his cheeks exposed for me to see. O'Hara was on the other side so she quickly turned to the side with a gasp in her laugh as the sight of his wares came into view He was oblivious as he summoned his courage to make his plea. "Doc, we all know he's mine! I found him. I'll find a place for him at my house. You'll see. I'll take real good care of him. And I won't let him blow up anything else." That having been said, Grant stooped down, grabbed his knickers and stood up with them without taking his eyes off of the doctor, who seemed to find some humor in what was going on in front of him. Both the doctor and Nurse O'Hara were doing a poor job of not laughing, but Grant didn't seem to notice. O'Hara moved around the doctor to kneel in front of Grant and, finally, tie up his britches. She also worked with him to roll up the excess legs and told him she would get him some clean socks to wear. As she left to do her duties, the doctor patted Grant on the shoulder and moved to the chair and sat down. "Come over here, Grant." Grant moved slowly to the doctor who parted his legs so Grant could sit on his knee. "My, you are getting to be a big boy." No points there, by the look on Grant's face. "Grant, what are your father and mother going to say when you bring home a full grown man instead of another sick dog?" They both looked at me. I was hoping it was because of the first description. "Yeah, I know. We haven't got a lot of extra food or anything to raise him properly, huh?" "Now that, my boy, is sensible thinking. Perhaps we need to think of a place that would be close, so you could visit, but with someone a little older who could raise him up real good." "In Euphoria? I didn't know we had anyone like that." "Well, he already knows Russ, and Russ still has his place on the side of the hill." Grant was shaking his head slowly as the doctor suggested Russ. "If we do that I'll never be allowed to see him again. He'll be tainted for life!" You can bet that got my attention. I hadn't noticed any signs of leprosy or anything on Russ but he did say he was going to the doctor. I opened my mouth so I could ask someone to clear up what was said but the doctor held up his hand to make me wait a little longer. "Grant, I'm very sorry you feel that way. This has gone on so long. Two grown men feuding over something that is beyond anyone's ability to change. And to bring you into it without even a chance to get to know him." Well I was certainly confused, and it must have showed. "David, this doesn't concern you and it's really not my place to get you involved, or bring up their issues. I just hope you understand that there are some problems that need to be worked out in the DeWitt family." Now I was even more confused. "DeWitt family. But how is Russ involved?" Grant slowly looked over at me with very sad eyes. They didn't look wet, just disappointed. "Russ is Russell DeWitt, my grandfather, and my father says he's a danger to his family." Having said that, he slumped into the doctor and laid his head on his chest. "Oh, I see." The very pinnacle of conversationalists, David . "Wait a minute! I don't see a thing. I realize I'm pretty new around here but I like Russ. He's a great guy and was very kind to me. He gave me a place to stay and showed me more affection than I've ever felt from anyone." Oops! I hope I hadn't said too much. Luckily they couldn't have known about that morning or the truck ride. But, then why were they staring at me. "Affection?" They were both looking at me but the words were the doctor's. "He cared! What can I say? He helped me when I needed it the most. I believe that he's the kind of gentleman that would help anyone that needed him." I was looking right at Grant when I said that. Its meaning wasn't missed by him or the doctor. It seemed that Russ was being slighted somehow and I didn"t understand why. "Throw me a gown. I'm getting up." I didn't want to stay anywhere any longer than necessary that catered to hurting people like Russ DeWitt. "You've got it wrong, David. Grant here hasn't had a chance to know his grandfather at all, much less like or love him. His father has seen to that." He pointed Grant to the scrubs and pushed him up so he could hand me a pair. I pulled back the covers, exposing everything I owned, to any one walking in, so I could dress, just as Nurse O'Hara came through the door. "My, my, young man! It must be mighty cold in here." *** After I dressed in the scrubs I asked Grant if he would help me with my walk. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed so Grant could help me pull up my pants. The others had gone about their other patients. He had to strain and pull and it took me a long time to figure out what he was trying to do. Then, as I stood, his hand moved around to my back side and very deliberately, while yanking up the scrubs, slid his hand all the way up my fanny, right up my crack. That got us both laughing at the 'payback' and we tried to horse around, tickling each other, but I soon realized that I wasn't strong enough for that. After all, I hadn't moved from the bed for a week. I also had to go. "By the way, I'm not the only one that could use some cleaning. If we go out there, you may clear the hallways." said my little critic when I came out of the bathroom. I guess I would have to do something about that. Soon we ventured out into the hall. I thought that a simple walk would be easy but I found myself counting on the boy to help me a lot. He put his arm around my waist and I put my arm on his far shoulder for support. I was sure to make it seem, every once in awhile, that I was too weak to go on or that I was starting to fall over. Grant would struggle to get me going again. A lot of the time I did need him but I was getting stronger. Most of the time we didn't even talk. As we walked for a little while I could feel my strength returning and I realized I was becoming less dependant on my 10 year old crutch. It wasn't a very big hospital and soon, we had circled and were headed back to the room. "So, you don't get to see your granddad much, Grant?" "Naw. What's to see? Just an old man with memories he keeps whinin' about to my dad. He never comes over and we're never invited to his place. Once or twice a year we go over to Aunt Charlotte's for dinner or somethin' but he doesn't even show up then." He was talking to the floor and I had to bend down to hear him. His hair had a nice sheen to it now, and smelled like it was finally clean. Noticing how clean Grant was made me look behind his ears for some reason. The only one that I knew of, that did that, was my mother and she held me by the ear when she did it. I saw that there was still some scrubbing to do but I didn't need to say anything just then. "Are you sure he was invited to these get-togethers? Maybe he..." I almost fell over as my support swung around to face me. "Why are you defending him? You don't even know him. He's a has-been, just like my dad's always said. He doesn't have time for his family and he doesn't have time for me. He can just go screw himself, for all I care. My dad said he messed up his marriage, he messed up his family and he wasn't gonna let him get to me." Whoa! Something was coming through the fog here, making things just a bit more clear. Who was keeping who from whom? And why? I decided I needed to try to calm down my guy before he started drawing people with crash carts and belted vests. "So Grant? I need to think about a place to stay for awhile until I'm strong enough to go back home." "No-o! You're staying with us! I found ya'. I got to keep you from hurtin' yourself again, or anyone else." He was practically climbing up my front and soon had his hands clasped behind my neck. The hall wasn't crowded but I noticed a few people turn to see what was up. Then he was staring me right in the eyes again, right into my very being. I could see the same sincerity that I had seen in his grandfather's eyes a week ago. I could also see the same tenderness that had drawn me to his grandfather. I think he must have realized what he was doing and how it looked. He let go of my neck and moved back to his position as my crutch so we could continue. He was looking down when I heard him say, "Besides, you're my best friend." "Kid, I mean Grant; we don't even know each other. I just met you twice now." "Yeah, well I've known everything about you for the past week. I helped with your bandages and salve stuff. I even emptied the bottle when it needed." I was about to ask about that when I reminded myself that I hadn't had a catheter when I got up. "I helped with your sponge bath and only left when they would get tired of me or the doctor said he was doin' tests. "Oh, I know ya, and you're mine." He finally had restored his own self image to look up at me looking down at him. "Your mouth is open." When we got back to the room and walked in, I had to sit down. I started for the bed but Grant had other ideas. I found myself being turned toward the bathroom instead of my bed. "Grant, I've got to sit down, but I don't have to go again." "Do us all a favor and take a shower, David. You stink." With all the bushes in this part of our country you'd think the people here would know more about beating around them. "I don't think I have the strength. Let me rest a bit, then..." "Heck, I'll help ya. You were such a big help to get me to take one." There was something in that voice. I looked over to see a twinkle of mischief in his bright eyes. If it was possible, they seemed to be smiling wider then his mouth could. I was in trouble. "Okay now. Let's get something straight here," I started, trying to protect myself from what was whirling around in his mind, "I'm too weak to play. If we do this it's got to be get in and get out." "I know. I'll help; I promise. You can trust me." Right! And just as I was about to dispute that he finished with, "You're mine. I can't let anything happen to ya." By that time we were in the bathroom and standing in front of the shower. "Strip and get in!" "Okay!" I removed the shirt as I felt him pulling on the string holding up my pants. They fell to the floor and I heard a giggle. "Come on. You've seen everything before. Help my get these slipper things off." "Okay. You sure you don't want me to go see if they can turn up the heat?" he quipped as he knelt to help me with the last of my clothes. "Funny. You know you're just jealous cuz you'll never be as big as I am." "What do I care how big your thingy is? It's not like you need a big one to shine in front of you or somethin'." I wasn't sure about what he was saying, except that it didn't mean anything to him. After all, he was ten. By now he was reaching in to adjust the water. Then he backed up a bit and started to push me in. I have to admit, the shower felt great. I found the soap but what I was looking for was a...whap! A wash cloth. "Thanks. I was looking for one. How'd you manage to find one that was so cold?" "It's the only one. I used it earlier." "Grant, I've got to sit down. I can't..." Just then a chair was being pushed into the shower. It was one of the kinds that are used for showers for those of us that can't stand up for long periods of time. It must have been in the bathroom. I just didn't notice it. "Thanks buddy." "Yeah, yeah. Move over. I'll finish you off." I looked up quickly at the comment and got a face full of water. I'm sure he had no idea how that sounded. He had the smarts to remove his slippers and his top but he left his pants on. He took the wash cloth from me and got it soapy, then started at my shoulders and started scrubbing me. "Grant!" I snapped, "Take it easy. That skin needs to stay on the muscle when you're done." God, I hurt. There was silence, but the washing was far more delicate. Soon I could tell that he was holding back his tears. He was gulping instead of breathing and his mind wasn't on washing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I wouldn't do that," he said. His effort at washing had pretty much stopped. His effort at holding in the tears weren't working either. "Grant, I'm sorry I snapped." I took hold of his wrist and brought him around in front of me. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've done, what you're doing. I just reacted because it hurt everywhere that I was burned. Can you forgive me for overreacting?" Silence. His head was down and the water was pouring off of him now. "I'm so sorry, David." I lifted his chin up to look him in the eyes. "I know. But now we have a bigger problem, Grant." He rolled his eyes as if to ask: what else could go wrong. I just pointed to where his pants should have been. I couldn't help but start laughing. "Oh no!' he squealed. His pants had gotten so wet and heavy that they slid off his hips without him realizing it. But, to make matters worse, the cloth was plugging up the drain and we were filling up a few inches. He stomped his feet to get the pants off so he could maneuver, and then, for some reason, plopped into my lap, as if to get out of the water. Now, the water was cascading onto both of us and we were both reaching for the pants to pull them out of the drain. I was soapy so he started to slip until I reacted by throwing my arm around his waist and pulling him farther onto my lap. By now we were both laughing and sputtering. We got the pants and I quickly wrung them out and through them toward the sink. If I wasn't already exhausted I was by that time. I sat back and let my hands fall to the side of the chair. When Grant tried to do the same thing against me, he started to slip again. I grabbed both of his hips and pulled him back up, sliding him all the way up to my chest. I made sure he wouldn't slip again by folding both of my arms around his middle and squeezing him into me. "Hm-m-m. Feels nice." God, that reminded me of someone. As for me, I began to feel the result of all that sliding back and forth over my lap. This couldn't be happening! Not now! Friction was friction but the timing was not good. "Um, David?" I was so embarrassed. "If you've got both arms around me, what's goin' on underneath me?" He must be kidding. After all he was...oh. Ten. "Grant, doesn't your thingy get bigger when it gets rubbed sometimes?" Hell of a time to have a sex ed. class. "I dunno. That's your dick doin' that? Woe! This I gotta see!" And he slid off to get a better look. "Why's it doin' that?" "Grant, this is what makes me a guy, not a girl." And he rolled his eyes at me to tell me he knew the difference. "But when it gets stimulated, uh, rubbed or touched it can get big because it thinks it's got a mission to do." Oh this was going well. I could sure use all the writers that do all those movies and books that have all the right answers in just the right order, now! "What mission does it have to do?" I was speechless. There was no way I was going to let him in on the birds and the bees in a hospital shower with the water turning us to prunes. "Tell you what, slugger, let's get out of here and talk about this when I'm not wasted. I need you to help me finish so we can get out, and you've got a few years to wait yet, anyway." Smooth. He had no idea what I meant if he heard me at all. He just stood there staring at me, or my ever rigid penis. Finally, I grabbed the wash cloth and threw it at him. He started to laugh (relief?) and started washing me again. When he came to the object of our discussion, he just kept washing. I noticed quickly that the wash cloth wasn't always between him and me, and he had no problem with it. He moved quickly to my legs and feet and stood up to find that my penis had returned to it's weakened state. "Huh. How'd you do that?" I took the wash cloth and began to finish up on the parts he had missed. "What? How'd I do what?" He reached out to point at the withered state of my manhood but his finger kept going until it flicked the tip. "Hey!" I chuckled at his nerve. Then he flicked it again and snickered. So I reached for his and tried to flick it. It only seemed fair. Except there was much less of him to aim for and he twisted to get out of my reach. We went back and forth for a few more flick attempts until we were both laughing our heads off. I finally grabbed him again and pulled him on my lap to try to cover up any more attempts to get flicked. It was great to be laughing so hard. I couldn't believe a shower could be that funny and I never even thought about what someone walking in might think. We were just being boys as boys will be and it was fun. I made some silly attempts to scrub his face when I remembered his ears. I held his head and started on his right ear. "Hey! Ow! This is your...ow!..bath, not...ow...mine!" I couldn't tell if it really hurt. It was hard to tell amidst the squirming and laughing. It seemed to take as long to clean his ears as it did all of me. But we were laughing again so I started in on him. "Let's see what else you missed," I said as I raised his left leg up, almost over his head so I could swipe his butt. When I did, he started slipping again until I grabbed through his legs with my free arm. So here we were with one leg in the air and my right hand clasped to his left butt cheek and pulling him back so he would drop onto the floor. It must have looked ridiculous and we were again laughing like crazy. I dropped his leg and pulled him up one more time and gave him a big hug that he couldn't have taken as anything less then my showing him that I really cared for him. He relaxed immediately into me and I kissed his neck. We sat there for a full minute, just getting our breath and calming down. "Hm-m-m. Thank you, David." "Your welcome Tiger. What for?" He tried to sit a bit straighter but he kept slipping. It seemed like he was getting serious again. "Just for that. I've never laughed that hard before." "Yeah. It's been a long time for me too, kiddo." "No. I've never, ever laughed like that. Not even close." It must have hit him about the time it hit me just what he was saying. All of a sudden he slid off of me and started to pick up things, turn off the water and move out to find a towel. "But you've rough-housed with your dad and had tickle time. You've goofed off with the other guys your age?" I could tell by his actions that it hadn't happened and I had to fight back showing my feelings for him. It didn't seem possible. Laughing? Who could hold that back from someone? He tried to look like he was looking for something. A towel probably. I walked over to the floor length mirror and pulled on the edge. There, in front of us, was a complete linen closet packed full of sheets, wash cloths, towels, more scrubs and some toiletries. Grant was staring in at it in disbelief. "You mean I didn't have to go out there naked? Everything was right here?" I, of course, was being very supportive. I started laughing as hard as a minute before. Luckily, Grant saw how funny it was and started laughing too. We both grabbed towels and grabbed at each other when we should have been drying each other. I found some deodorant and pushed it into my pits. Then I grabbed him and tried to put some on him in every unlikely place possible. Once again our laughter filled that room. If you could have cut a record of the laughter we had used up that day it would have sold a zillion copies. His laughing just made me want to, no, have to laugh harder. But mostly I just wanted to hear that joy in his voice. It was uncontrollable joy that he'd been denied up to now. And I got to be a part of it. Well, we played a little more grab games; butts and cocks and somehow got each other dried and dressed. When we came out of the bathroom, still laughing, Grant's dad was sitting in the chair, waiting to take his son home. "Dad? What are you...?" "You listen to me young man. Your mother and I have been looking for you all day, and half of last night. There's a reason I told you not to come back by yourself. When I get you home you'll have plenty a' time to think on it, too." He wasn't loud but there was no doubt he meant business. What worried me was the smell of liquor when we passed him to get me to the bed. "Uh, sir. If I may..." I started. "Uh, sir. You may not!" was his retort, staring me down until I looked away. "Seems to me you have caused enough upheaval since you arrived in Euphoria. I think it's time for you to go back to wherever you came from and leave us be." By this time he was on his feet and at the side of the bed, cutting through me with his searing eyes. "Dad, please. He hasn't done nothin' that he knows about. He can't help it if the place blows up." Grant was practically hanging on his father's arm, as if to pull him away from me. "And he's stayin' with us! He's mine!" "Boy, you listen to me," said Mr. Dewitt in that kind of tone that meant serious business. "You get your ass across the street and into the truck while I talk to this man. Don't stop until that door is closed with you inside or the thinkin' you do tonight will be standin' up for fear of rekindlin' the pain on your back side." Shoulders slumped and head down, my favorite 10 year old crutch made his way out of the doorway and disappeared, wise enough not to have said a word. he didn't even look like the same nymph that laughed his way into my heart a few minutes before. I ignored Grant's dad as I scooted up onto the bed and covered myself with the sheet and blanket. *** "You can't be comin' into places and stirrin' up people's lives with your big city ideas and total lack of morals!" he said, lashing out at me like I was a demon or something. Somehow, asking him to come to the point hadn't occurred to me. "Excuse me Mr. DeWitt..." I said at the pause. "You haven't got any idea what you've caused here and, I for one..." "Now wait just a minute, sir!" I fairly shouted to shut him up. He looked like he was shocked; I know I was. I don't know if I've ever had the nerve to raise my voice with any authority before. While it seemed completely foreign, I couldn't let this opportunity pass. "You've made it pretty clear what you think of me, especially considering that you have no idea who I am. To be able to make sweeping judgments like that without any basis must be a very satisfying feeling. Why, I'm sure that with that gift you can ruin a family or two, destroy several relationships that should be the most precious treasures in your remarkable life and conjure up a whole list of crimes against people you don't even know." He looked like he wanted to say something, but I was just getting started. He didn't have a chance, and this may be my only one. "There are many famous people in history, Mr. DeWitt, that have conquered nations, brought enemies to their knees and made people fear their very existence. None of them, I'm sure, can say that they single-handed...no, single-mindedly broke their own son's heart and kept him and his father from a relationship with a truly remarkable man like your father. Your mind, your judgment, your loathing, based on bigoted generalizations that aren't true, and your lies have cost a boy and his grandfather 10 years of their lives. I have no idea how many years you've wasted by not sharing your life with your own father. I have heard many, many stories about fathers wrongly rejecting their sons for not being the sons they thought they should be. You, Mr. DeWitt are the first son that I know of that has rejected his own father for something you can't even explain." I found that I had moved to a position on the bed where I was propped up on my arms and staring him down. I had to calm down and luckily, his head had dropped and seemed like he was thinking about what I had said. I pushed myself back so that I was lying down again. I was hot and sweaty and exhausted. My heart was beating like a percussion band and I knew I had to be bright red from anger. Funny thing was, most of what I'd said was based on very few facts. But I knew that the attitudes around and about Russ and Grant came from some source. Grant's ideas about his grandfather were based on something that he got from some wrong information. I knew inside me that the center of this was sitting in front of me...or was!! As I looked at the figure of what some would describe as a man, he raised his head to look me in the eyes, just like he had taught his son. Then he was on his feet and slowly moving to the bed. I could have imagined it but I'm not sure his feet moved or if he just slid over like in one of those evil movies. I'll have to admit that, more than once, I looked at the door to plan my escape before he completely blocked my path. He slowly put his hands on the metal railing on the side of the bed and began to speak. But something had changed. "Where do you get off calling me a liar to my face?" he said without any conviction in his voice. It was weird. "Isn't what you are doing a judgment about me?" "Sir, I'm willing to take back and apologize for anything that I've said that isn't true. If you can tell me honestly that something else has caused all this turmoil in your family, tell me." He just stood there. He reminded me exactly of the countless times when my father had pounded his ideas, accusations or condemnations into me until I was defenseless and weakened by his lectures. When he finally gathered up what he needed to answer me, he couldn't even find the conviction to look me in the eye. "It was him. The things he did. The shame he put on all of us. The secrets he hid away for so long. He had no right to hurt us like that; no right at all. The best thing he did was leave us." "Sir, what happened that could have caused so much bitterness and anger?" I said as gently as I could. I had know way of knowing that this was one of the first times he'd even talked about he and his family growing up. "I'm sorry to pry but, if I'm leaving, it seems to me you can tell me just about anything and it will leave with me. It might help when you talk to Grant too." "If you think I'm goin' ta bare all to some stranger..." His voice started to escalate. "Yeah, I do. What other hope do you have to get rid of your hurt? How many years has this been killing you inside? How long has your relationship with Grant suffered because of what's on the tip of your tongue right now?" How the hell did I come off thinking I was this guy's savior from years of torment no matter what the cause? I struggled real hard to try to remember if I got a C or a B in Psychology those two years. There was no way I could pull this off. Then my mind's eye saw Russ and the way he looked at me, bright and alive. Then I saw Grant as he looked at me just minutes before with the same gleam in his eyes. I decided that I had to find that gleam in Grant's dad's eyes. Hell, I didn't have anything to lose. I was going for it! His head was still down and he looked exhausted. There must have been a tremendous amount of weight pushing down on his shoulders "You certainly have a lot of nerve causing this..." "You know I didn't cause a thing Mr. DeWitt. That's just an excuse again. An excuse to back away from the real cause, the real problem. What did happen? I'd really like to know." Slowly his eyes looked up. There were no tears but they were wet. His hand came up and smoothed his hair back, then returned to help prop himself up on the bed's railing. "He's bad! He had a wonderful wife that I know he must have loved. He had, well, still has a successful business in town. He seemed to be there for me a lot. But he was never happy; you could tell." He stopped as if to think about what he had said. "So, he had all these things going for him but he still wasn't happy." Not a question; just confirming. Yeah. He got he would mope around like he was always thinking about something else. We'd play catch and there would be times when the ball would just hit him. He didn't even try to catch it, and then he'd just walk into the barn. That became his refuge, his safe place, I guess." "The barn was where he retreated to?" "Sure. After awhile, he was always there. Oh, he'd come in for supper or when I went to bed, he'd still come in and say goodnight. But he changed. Something was eating at him. Every once in awhile he'd snap out of it but then he'd be right back at it, holes up in the barn doing who knows what. Mom was getting pretty sick of his behavior and started pleading with him to get help, or, at least talk about what was going on. He'd just walk away. After that he quit coming to ball games, he'd miss days of work, sometimes he'd be gone overnight and we wouldn't know what happened. Mom changed from being real worried to kind of angry. I didn't know what was going on." "So you were concerned about his actions too?" "Of course I was! I wanted my dad back! We used to go camping together, riding our horses. He used to take me to cut wood and we'd laugh as we worked so hard. Then mom would yell at us for not bringing back enough wood, until dad would do something to make her laugh just as hard." I could just about see it. He looked and his eyes were still wet, but I knew that he had his father's eyes, his gift. Then his head dropped down again, and he was quiet for a long time. Finally I almost whispered, "Those were the good times you shared. Then you saw him change?" "It wasn't overnight, but it was quick. We'd cleaned out some old boxes from the old storm cellar and carried them to the barn. There was an old office or something past the stalls where he had a desk. We put the boxes in there and he said he would go through them later. I realized later that it was after that when things started changing." "You thought it might have something to do with those boxes." Not a question. "Oh, I didn't get it until I started thinking it through. Once my mom and he had a fight like I have never seen before. She wanted to know what was going on right now and if things didn't changing she was going to do something about it. My dad was no wimp, but as he started to lay into her, it was like he just froze. He stopped yelling and just slumped and said, 'Nevermind' and walked out. Pretty soon the truck started up and we knew he was gone for at least a day." "That's when you started putting two and two together." "Right!" His voice had a little more energy in it. His gaze shifted up a bit but he wasn't really looking outside of what he was reliving in his mind. "That night I laid in bed thinking of everything that had been goin' on. I remembered those boxes and something told me they had something to do with it. It was pretty late but it was still hot out. I got out of bed and went out to the barn and his office. I saw the boxes broke down outside of the door to his office so I knew he had gone through them. He always kept a clean desk but there were bills and papers, catalogues like he had never let pile up before. Oh, I should say that he started locking the door, but it was an old key and there were some in the house just like it that worked. Anyway, I went through the papers and then his desk drawers. I couldn't find anything that seemed unusual or anything. Certainly not that would cause what was goin' on. "I turned to leave when I noticed a picture on the shelf beside the door. He kept all my trophies and stuff on it and I'd never seen it there before. It was two guys. One looked like an older me and, hell boy, come to think of it, the other looked a lot like you!" "Huh," I said, as I looked up to see him staring at me! "How could I...I wasn't..." "Well, it obviously wasn't you. You weren't even a gleam when this happened. I was fourteen. You were a long way off." "Okay, so, you found this...ah...picture of your dad and someone else." I stuttered and stammered trying to get him back on the story; trying to regain my composure. "His arm was around this kid. You could tell it was his best friend. Looked like it was taken after they were graduated out of high school cuz dad had his work shirt on from when he worked at the service station. Dad was lookin' at the kid and the kid was starin' at the camera and they both must have been laughin' it up." There was a lightness in his voice as he described the picture. It was like he was remembering the times when he and his dad would laugh about things too. But then he got real somber. It almost sounded like he was gritting his teeth to get out his next words. "As I put the picture back on the shelf I noticed that it had been sitting on an old cigar box. I pulled it down and sat on the desk and opened it up. It must have had two dozen letters in it. Not to him, from him to some David guy. They were in the envelopes and returned to gramma's address, oh, his mom. I guess he had opened 'em to read 'em again. So, I opened one and read it." He gave a huge sigh and straightened up like he was going to jump on the bed or something. I could see the same look that he had when he came up to the bed in anger only minutes before. "Shit! They was love letters! Nasty, dirty, love letters to a guy! My dad was no man! He was queer! He loved some guy. Only the guy didn't love him, hah! No sir! He returned that crap unopened. He was no queer, just dad! Shit! That meant...all that time wasted...all that time moping around...was cause he found them damn letters and was pining over some guy!" I knew I couldn't see steam but it wouldn't have taken much. He was hot! His anger was building like he was back in that office in the barn with those letters in his hands. He began to rub his hands together as though he could still feel the letters, as though he couldn't get rid of the feeling. "Mr. DeWitt. Mr. DeWitt?" "Wha...? Oh, yeah. It just makes me so angry still. All that time wasted. How could he lie to us? He had a whole other life and it wasn't about us. We were just part of his lie." He was as close to sobbing as I could imagine, but he put everything he had into keeping it together. "What did you do?" "Huh? Oh, ah...yeah well, I, ah, I took em into the house. I don't remember it very good anymore. I remember being angry enough to slam the screen door so hard it broke. 'Course mom woke up to see what was goin' on. I don't remember anything after that until the morning when I woke up on the sofa covered in a blanket; still in my shorts. It was still pretty early in the morning. Mom was at the kitchen table just staring out the window. She must have made some coffee and all the letters were layin' in a pile in front of her. They were all opened. She must have read everyone o' them. I gotta sit down." He pushed himself up from the bed rails and sat in the chair. I guess I was staring at him when he looked up and caught my attention. I got up and got him a glass of water from the sink and walked over to hand it to him. He just took it and swallowed it in one shot, then handed it back without saying a word. He seemed to be in another time, deep in thought. I returned with a refill and he finally looked at the water then up at me like he had never seen me before. But he had; with his son and in the picture, with his dad. He took his eyes off me, took the glass and said, "Thanks." "You must have been devastated." "Hell. Devastated? I can't even remember how I felt. Numb maybe. Exhausted for sure. Maybe almost relieved that there was an answer. I know it took me most of the day to realize how angry I was at that man. But when I tried to talk to mom about him, about what we were going to do, she waved me away. I know she'd been crying there, off and on, but she wasn't talkin'." "What happened?" I asked, climbing back into bed. "That night he didn't show up. I remembering layin' in bed again, thinking about what he was. I guess I just kept getting angrier and..." He looked up at me like he didn't want to continue. His voice was almost a whisper as he continued. I went to the table and gathered up the letters. Then I went out to the barn and threw them at the folded up boxes by the door to the office. I found a lantern and threw down at the pile. I found a match and lit everything. I stood there with a bucket of water ready to pour on it when it was all burned. But then I remembered the picture and went into office to get it. I stood there looking at the two of them, my own father looking at another boy with love, heh, by now I knew it was love he had in his eyes. Well, there was a crash and the office door wouldn't budge. I ended up climbing out the window and walked back to the house to see the whole barn burn down. If I hadn't left the big door open we'd a lost both horses too. When mom came out, she just held me and asked if I was alright. I just started crying into her and she patted me and said she'd take care of everything. "Somehow I made it to my bed because i woke up the next day to his truck drivin' up. I don't know what they said. Some of it was yelling but some of it wasn't. I laid there gettin' mad again until I heard his footsteps and my door came open. I knew I was dead. Hell, I'd burnt down the damn barn! He had'ta wanna kill me. "I think I was more disappointed cuz he wasn't mad. He rushed over to the bed asking if I got hurt. When I didn't answer me he started for the covers to look for himself. I wasn't having no queer my look or touch me. I slapped him in the face and told him to leave. I'd never seen a look like that before except the time I watched this guy slaughter a lamb. That lamb just stared at me like he knew what was happening and why wasn't I helping him. That's how he looked. He stood up to say something. I held up my hand and he gave me that look and walked out. I guess he and mom talked but he never lived with us again "For awhile, when I'd see him and he saw me he'd want to talk, but I wasn't having anything to do with him. After awhile he just didn't even try." "So your mom told you what happened? She told you his side of it?" I had to know. "His side? There is no side. I didn't wanna hear about all that weird queer stuff. She kept quiet and I didn't ask." I think I was starting to get upset again. "Let me get this straight. All these years you've hated your father because of some letters? Letters from before he and your mom were married. About a time he put aside to love his wife and raise his only child. Is that what I'm hearing?" I wasn't shouting but I was shaking. I wanted to shake him so bad. "He was a queer, plain and simple. And then you come along and..." "Oh no! Don't you dare go there. We're not through with you yet. Don't even try to pass your mistake onto me!" "My mistake?" He got up to his feet and start toward me. I was looking at the door again, calculating my escape. No! Fuck it! I wasn't letting him off. "It's called love! I don't think you remember what that is. It's when two people care about each other so much they want to be with each other all the time. They want to laugh together, play together, grow up together. They want to know one another's thoughts and dreams until they know each other inside and out. And they want to give of themselves to each other unconditionally. Do you remember?" "Humph! Sounds like him and mom maybe, not two guys. It's just not..." "I wasn't describing the love your mom and dad had, though I'm sure it was very similar." "See?" "Mr. DeWitt. I was describing the love you and your dad enjoyed before you started to judge him." His mouth dropped open as the words hit his ears, then his heart. He was quiet but he was busy thinking. His eyes started to brim over. "Your dad had so much love in him, you and your mom were totally consumed by how he expressed it. And when he started hurting about something innocent that happened long before, all you could think about was yourself. Your dad never even got close to that boy the way your mind conjured up. And you let it cost you the rest of your life without him, the man you loved." He looked into my eyes like something had struck home so I kept going. "I think the worst part, though, is that let it ruin your love for your own boy. Have you ever laughed with him, had tickle time together?" "Don't get sloppy on me now, uh...that's sissy stuff." "It didn't sound like that in your voice when you told me about you and your dad together." "But another boy. I just..." "Mr. DeWitt?" "Sam. My name is Sam." "Okay, Sam. I see a shower room or the back of a classroom. The boy in front there wasn't a best friend but, at least a friend. He was liked by everyone and a great athlete. You tell just by looking at him in the shower after gym class. Wow, to have that body, but to have him as a friend. Somehow the times with him were special and as time went on the friendship grew and a lot more time was spent together; overnights, camping. Laughing and getting in trouble together. Running from the last childish crime until both were breathless. There just wasn't enough time in the day to spend together." I looked at Sam and he was just staring at me like I just told him who murdered JFK. "What?" "How'd you do that? How'd you know?" He was almost hyperventilating. "How'd I do what?" "That! How'd you know about Bobby?" I was lost. I had no idea what he was talking ab.... Oh." "Sam, I was talking about Richard Gearhart from my senior class. But I think I made my point. We all have a Richard or a Bobby that we grew up with. Does that make us queer? Or does that just make us need someone; someone close, like Bobby or your dad?" "But the letters, they..." "But nothing! You never asked him. You never cared enough to hear his story. You didn't care enough to try to ease his pain. You just knew it hurt you. God, man! Imagine what it did to him to be rejected by the three people that he loved the most. Imagine how hard that slap must have felt coming from the love of his life." I think I sucked in a breath or two when I realized the similarities between this David that had slapped Russ and Sam, his own son. But Sam didn't know about the first slap, long before his. Sam looked over his shoulder and backed up until he fell into the chair. He sat there for the longest time as quiet as could be. Then I saw a drop hit the floor and then another. He straightened up and did a lot of sniffing and wiped his eyes on his flannel sleeve. He actually smiled at me. I couldn't choke up now. "Sam," I said as gently as I could, "You're the third person that I've met with that smile on their face since I arrived in Euphoria." "Yeah. I know one of them had to be little Grant. He can be the smilingest kid sometimes. But who's the other...oh, dad." "Bingo!' I just let him think for another minute. God, he looked like both of them. I don't think I've ever met this man before this minute. But now he looked as handsome as the other two DeWitts that I had begun to know. "Sam, I could really use a minute. Could I bother you to go get us some coffee or something?" For a second the smile grew even bigger, and then he nodded and got up and left the room. I fell back hard on the bed and let out a sigh that should have brought out the people with the crash cart, yelling, 'Stat!' I was exhausted. I was totally spent. I have never done that before and I hoped I wouldn't ever have to do it again. I was dropping Psychology from my schedule when I got back to school. The thoughts that kept cropping up in my mind, though, weren't about the happenings in Euphoria. They were about Richard Gearhart. Why didn't I remember those times together? He was like a brother, no, closer. We did everything together. And I can remember looking at him across the shower room. Hell, the only reason I had an okay body was because I wanted to be like him, look like him. I remember his laugh, his smell, the feel of his skin. I seemed to realize that I would have done anything he had asked me to. Anything. I didn't idolize him. I...I loved him. The feelings I had to kill back then were so strong. I thought about my dad trying to have that talk with me. It wasn't about the birds and the bees. I realized at that moment that whole topic was about best friends. He even went as far as to tell me that sometimes you can't even trust your best friend. I didn't think he even knew Richard. I must have let part of that talk sink in somehow because it was after that that Richard and I stopped doing things together. God! I'd buried that so deep, yet it was only, what, three years ago? What a waste. I knew then that I didn't want to waste another second. I didn't care where the love came from. Real love was real love and I wanted more. And I knew that there was someone out there that cared for me and they were... "What have you done with him, you she devil?" *** Just then the door flew open and in came Russ, pushing himself past O'Hara. He didn't stop until he was beside my bed and grabbing the rail, probably to prevent his adversary from pulling him back out. "Boy! Are you okay? Has she tried to make you take any snake remedies or whatever they teach them in witches school?" He was out of breath and kept looking over his shoulder as if to see how much time he had before she hit him with her wand, turning him back into a frog. She came up behind him and grabbed for his arm to yank him away from the bed. "Russell DeWitt, you remove yourself from this room and leave that boy in peace. You have no business?" "Wait a minute! Will you two stop fighting over me?" I know I blushed when I realized how that could be taken. "Nurse, Russ is my friend. Aren't I allowed visitors? Just let him be and let us alone to talk." "I don't know. If I leave him alone with you will you be okay?" "And why shouldn't I?" Then she started stammering and stuttering and slowly turned and left the room. I had never seen her without all the confidence in the world until that moment. It was like it just drained from her before our eyes. I turned my eyes to Russ and saw real concern in his. I might have even seen a bit of liquid begin to form in the corners. "Boy, you had me more worried than a momma that's lost her whole brood of cubs," he said without holding back his frustration but softly laying his hand on my upper thigh, leaning into me as if to begin a proper evaluation. "I thought you were dead. Shit, boy, I just met ya and I thought I'd lost ya. What were you thinking?" "Thank you. I'm fine," I said, laying my hand on his to calm him down. "What I was thinking was, how could I have a nice ride down that freezing cold river if there was no boat around." I couldn't help but start to grin at him as I said it. He raised his head and squinted at me to see if I was playing with a full deck and then did one of his huge sighs and calmed down remarkably well. He slowly backed away from the bed and sat down in the chair at the foot of the bed. "There was blood on the walls in the cabin. Not a lot, but enough to make me think.... What happened up there? I leave for a few hours and... I think we need to go over some things about what it means to be responsible." He was looking at me very seriously and I was ready to defend myself. He just raised up his hand to stop me and sat back in the chair and almost whispered, his voice sounded so tired, "I'm just funnin' ya, child. I can imagine what happened. It was bound to someday." "Russ, I've been here for a week. Where have you been?" "Well, it wasn't like you left a note! Besides, Charlotte, my sister took ill and I've been on the floor under you until I just found out you were alive." "Jeez. Is she okay? Is she gonna make it? What happened?" He got up and walked over to the side of the bed and sat on the edge. This time I put my hand on his leg, and it felt great. "Oh, she'll be fine. She's stronger than the both of us put together. She'll outlast most of the people on the second floor if they don't strangle her to keep her quiet. But how'd you get here? There ain't no ambulance service in Euphoria." "A little boy found me and took me home." "Huh?" We spent the next few minutes swapping stories about the last week. Then I told you him about Grant visiting me and finally about his son's visit minutes before. But I didn't tell him that he was still in the hospital. "Talk about water under the bridge. I don't think I'll be talking to them any time soon. You have no idea what I did to my family, especially to Sam." "Well, actually I do. And it wasn't your doing." "Boy, you have no idea, do you hear me, no idea what you are telling me." he said emphatically right in my face." "Oh yes he does, dad." Russ just sat there staring at me with the biggest eyes I've ever seen. His mouth was open in total disbelief that his hearing was correct. I could almost see his brain trying to figure out what to do with the image he had that went with the voice he hadn't heard in years. "Russ," I whispered, "I'd like to introduce your son, Sam to you." He tried to blink back big tears but it wasn't working. His eyes were kind of doing that thing, motioning as if to say, "Here? In this room? Now?" I smiled big time and nodded. "Oh, and you should probably close your mouth." He slowly turned and saw Sam standing in the doorway with a paper coffee cup in each hand. "Sam? Boy, I am so sorry..." "Shut up!" Sam said to stop him. Not a shout. More like a soft plea. "Huh? What?" As Russ was trying to figure out what was going on, Sam walked forward and put the cups on the cabinet by the chair. He stood in front of his dad for almost a full minute. Then he walked up and put his arms around his father and squeezed. If it wasn't so emotional it would have been hilarious. Russ looked over at me with total confusion plastered on his face. I nodded like I was pushing him into his son with my head, and made a hugging gesture with my arms. He must have got the subtle hint because he slowly wrapped his son in his arms. I noticed a bit of red in the doorway and soon, Nurse O'Hara moved into the room with her arms crossed. Now everyone must have known about the estranged relationships of the DeWitts but her look was almost a proud, 'I told you so.' I think she was just happy to see them make up. She slipped out as quietly as she came in, pointing to her mouth, which I prayed meant that food was coming. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes. I was more than wasted. I couldn't take anymore of this emotion stuff. I felt that if one more thing happened that got me going, I would explode. "I love you too, son. I don't know how this day could get any better." "Dad? Grampa?" NTLFG - The End of Chapter Four To be continued Comments on the story are appreciated. Thank you. I'm Matt Templar at matemp1148@yahoo.com