Appearances 57

If the idea of two men loving each other and expressing that love in a sexual manner offends you, then you have clearly come to the wrong place. Feel free to leave.

-57-

As the first Monday in October drew closer, Steve began to show a few signs of nervousness, but he seemed to be handling it well. Charles was planning to fly the three of us down to Louisiana for the trial, and we planned to arrive just in time for Steve to testify, and then fly out again. None of us, least of all Steve, had any particular desire to linger.

Dr. Butcher had been deposed on videotape, concerning Steve’s physical condition on the morning after the beating. Because of the distance involved, the Deposition was handled through the technology of a teleconference.

Marie was waiting for us at the airport, when we landed.

She greeted Steve with a hug, and gave him a worried look.

“Are you all right?” she said.

“To tell the truth,” he said, “I’d rather not be here, but I’ve gotta do this.”

We arrived at the Courthouse around nine, and were seated in the rear of the Courtroom, just before the proceedings began. The Jury had been selected on Friday, and after a few preliminaries, during which Simon laid out the details of the crime, he called Detective Robichaux, who testified that he had taken the call from Atlanta, and about his search of Steve’s room.

That led to the playing of Dr. Butcher’s taped deposition. After the tape had finished, Simon entered pictures of Steve’s injuries into evidence, and passed copies to the jurors.

I was then called to the stand, and Simon led me through the preliminaries. He then asked me about Steve.

“Have you had a lot of contact with your nephew over the years?”

“I am closer to my sister than my other siblings, and I saw her family regularly until I moved to Atlanta, but less frequently after that. Steve was, in fact, named after me, and Marie and I have always kept in close touch by telephone and e-mail,” I said. “She brought Steve with her to Atlanta last year, when my son was christened, and they spent the weekend with us.”

“Us?”

“I live with my partner. Our household also consists of his grandmother, our children, and a married couple who serve as cook and handyman. We also have a resident Nanny. During the course of the weekend, Steve confided in me that he was gay, and that he was terrified that his father would find out.”

“What else did he say to you that weekend?”

“That his father had made it clear to him that there would be no money made available for College when the time came. I told him that when he turned eighteen, he should come to Atlanta, and I would see to his education.”

“What happened on the day in question?”

“My cell phone rang around six that morning. The caller was Steve’s friend, Jeff. He was calling to let me know that Steve had been badly beaten, that he and his brother were about thirty minutes away, and they had Steve with them. When the boys arrived, we carried Steve to one of the guest bedrooms, and called our Pediatrician to come and examine him.”

“Why did you call a Pediatrician for a teenager?”

“Because we knew him, and we knew that he made house calls. Besides, it is not unusual for children to see Pediatricians, all the way through their teens.”

“What else can you tell the Court about that morning?”

“Steve was unconscious when he arrived. Later, when he woke up, I told him that his mother was flying in to see him. He assumed she was coming to take him home, and he became hysterical at the prospect.”

“What did you say to him at that?”

“That he could stay with us as long as he wanted to, provided his mother agreed, which is what ultimately happened.”

During cross-examination, the defense attorney honed in on the gay thing, but Simon managed to deflect all of the attacks as irrelevant.

Finally, Steve was called to the stand. He stated his name and age, and took the oath.

Simon led him gently through the examination, with a few general questions about himself. He asked about Steve’s life, school, and other things, questions which were designed to place Steve at ease, if such a thing were possible, under the circumstances.

Finally, Simon asked, “Tell the Court what happened on the night in question.”

“My folks had gone down to Alexandria, to visit my Aunt and Uncle. My sisters went with them, but I didn’t really feel like going, so I stayed home. My best friend, Jeff, came over to spend the weekend with me.”

“Tell us about Friday evening?” Simon said.

“We ordered pizza, and spent the evening watching a couple of movies. After the movies were over, we went to my room, and were fooling around when my father came home unexpectedly.”

“Fooling around?” Simon said.

“We were on my bed, fooling around,” Steve said.

“You mean you were engaging in mutual masturbation, an activity in which many teenage boys engage, at one time or another.”

“Yes sir.”

“What happened next?”

“My father came into the room, shouting and screaming ugly things, and started hitting me.”

“And then what happened?”

“I really don’t remember much else, until I woke up at Uncle Philip’s house in Atlanta, the next day.”

“Why Atlanta?”

“Like I said, I don’t really remember. Jeff told me that I refused to let him take me to a local hospital, and that I kept insisting that he take me to Atlanta.”

“Looking back, Steve, why do you think you begged to be taken to Atlanta?” Simon said.

“I guess because I knew that Uncle Philip was gay, and he wouldn’t let anybody else hurt me just because I’m gay.”

“You have been in Atlanta ever since, haven’t you?”

“Yes sir. As part of my mom’s divorce, Uncle Philip was made my guardian.”

“Why.”

“Because I was scared to come back home, even with my father in jail.”

“Scared?”

“I don’t want to be anywhere near where he is,” Steve said. “He tried to get to me in Atlanta, while he was out on bail, but the security people caught him.”

“Why do you think he did that?”

“He told the security people who caught him that he wanted to see me,” Steve said, “but I think maybe he wanted to finish the job, otherwise he wouldn’t have come in the middle of the night.”

The Defense Attorney objected to this answer, and the jury was told to disregard it.

“But you’re here today,” Simon said.

“Yes sir. I was too scared to come back here a few months ago, but I have been seeing a Psychologist, and she has helped me learn to deal with all of this.”

“And how do you feel about your father today?” Simon asked.

“I came here today,” Steve said, staring at his father, “so that I could look him in the eye and tell him that I hope they keep him in jail forever, and throw away the keys.”

The defense attorney ran Steve through the story again, and tried to shake him up. Steve, however, was resolute. The Attorney also attempted to bring up gay issues, but every time he did so, Simon objected that they were not relevant, and the objections were all sustained.

The defense attorney also made a serious mistake. After his last exchange with Steve, he said, “Steve, aren’t you being a little hard on your father?”

Steve sat up straight, and once again looked straight at the table where Frank was sitting, and said, “He’s not a father, he’s just a sperm donor.”

At that point, the defense attorney gave up.

Jeff was then called to the stand, and after being sworn in, he confirmed Steve’s story, and walked the court through the events of that evening of which Steve had no memory.

Simon asked him why he didn’t call 911, or simply take Steve to a local Emergency Room.

“I wanted to, but Steve got hysterical when I mentioned it. He kept saying, over and over, ‘take me to Uncle Philip in Atlanta, I’ll be safe there,’” Jeff said. “Besides, I knew that Mr. Cox would wake up, sooner or later, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to be anywhere nearby.”

“So, driving to Atlanta sounded like the best course of action?”

“Yes sir,” Jeff said. “I called my older brother, and he came over to Steve’s house and picked us up.”

Once again, the Attorney for the Defense tried to shake and/or undermine a witness’ story, but Jeff was just as resolute as Steve had been.

Simon also called Rob to the stand, to confirm Jeff’s story about the trip to Atlanta.

There wasn’t a whole lot left to talk about, and the defense had no witnesses to call. Both sides had made their closing arguments before the one o’clock recess. Judge McDaniel, in her instructions to the Jury, managed to make it clear that she expected to hear a guilty verdict, without actually directing the verdict. The Jury was sent out to have lunch and begin deliberations, and Marie drove us to a local restaurant.

Jeff, Rob, and their parents joined us at lunch, and we lingered for a couple of hours, allowing the boys to catch up with each other’s lives. They had, of course, been in regular contact by cell phone and e-mail, but this was the first time they had been in the same place since Jeff and his brother had come back to Louisiana.

Over lunch, I asked Charles if this sort of case was always so brief.

“Not always,” he said, “however, in this instance, there are no points of contention. That is, there is no disagreement as to what happened. Basically, all that was done this morning was to establish an official record of what happened. The Defense Attorney was doing little more than going through the motions. He knew he had a losing case, and I don’t think his heart was really in it.”

“It sort of makes you wonder why Frank didn’t plead guilty,” Jeff’s father said.

“True,” I said, “but I’m glad he didn’t. I think it was important for Steve to face his father in court today, and tell his story.”

“In any case,” Charles said, “Jeff is the hero of the hour. He probably saved Steve’s life that night, and he was certainly instrumental in nailing Frank today.”

We were interrupted by Charles’ cell phone ringing. He answered, listened for a minute, and said, “The Jury is coming back.”

We hurried back to the Courthouse, and were seated in the back row when the Jury returned.

The Judge asked them if they had a verdict, and the foreman said yes. He then read the verdict. Frank was found guilty of assault, and all of the related charges, with sentencing to take place two weeks later.

After Court was adjourned, Simon came back to talk to us. “I knew this would be a slam dunk,” he said, “but I didn’t expect it to be this quick.”

Steve asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, “What sentence will my father receive?”

“At least twenty years,” Simon said. “This judge doesn’t allow crimes like this to go unpunished.”

“Good,” Steve said.

“Steve,” Simon said, “you have to be prepared for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Simply this,” Simon said. “Men who abuse children frequently do not survive prison. Other inmates find out about it, and exact their own punishment.”

“You mean, he might be killed, while in prison,” Steve said.

“Yes.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Steve said.

“Steve,” Jeff’s father said, “He’s still your father.”

“No, he’s not,” Steve said. “I meant what I said in there. As far as I’m concerned, Uncle Philip and Uncle Charles are the only Dads I have.”

“These two men have done more parenting in the past few months,” Marie said, “than Frank ever did in sixteen years.”

“Good for them,” Simon said. “I merely brought the subject up so that you would all be made aware of the possibility.”

“Actually, I had thought about that,” Charles said, “but I wasn’t going to say anything about it for a while.”

A Bailiff came up to us, and spoke to Simon for a moment.

Simon said, “the Judge wants to talk to Steve privately.”

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s not unusual, during the pre-sentence investigation, for victims to be questioned,” Simon said. “She knows that Steve is headed back home to Atlanta, and doesn’t want him to miss any more school because of the trial.”

“What do I say to her?” Steve said.

“Just answer her questions fully, and truthfully,” Charles said. “You’ll be fine.”

We settled down in the rear of the courtroom to wait. After about ten minutes, the Bailiff brought Steve back to us, and said that the Judge wanted to speak to Marie.

Shortly thereafter, Marie returned, and Charles and I were summoned to the Judge’s Chambers.

Judge McDaniel was a large and formidable black woman, who appeared to be in her fifties. She greeted us warmly, and asked us to sit down. She was not at her desk, and the three of us sat informally on comfortable chairs in one corner of her chambers.

“I wanted to meet the two of you,” she said, “for a number of reasons. I followed the murder trial, two years ago, with a great deal of interest, and I must say that you had a brilliant win, counselor.”

“As I said then, Your Honor,” Charles said, “that case was won because a great many people spent a great amount of time, and an even greater amount of my client’s money, putting it all together.”

“Perhaps,” she said, “but it takes a good Conductor to keep the orchestra members on the same page.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Charles said, “but you didn’t call us back here to tell me that I’m a good Lawyer.”

“No sir, I did not,” she said. “As you know, I’ve talked to the boy and his mother. Mrs. Cox tells me how much the two of you have done for her son, and the boy clearly thinks that both of you walk on water.”

“Your Honor,” I said, “my sister and her son are the only two members of my family that I really care for, and I simply did what had to be done. As Steve began to recover from his injuries, we suggested that he might want to come back home to be with his mother, and he invariably became hysterical to the point of tears, at the prospect.”

“A very good friend of mine,” Charles said, “just happens to be a Clinical Psychologist, who specializes in abused children. We had her talking to Steve before he was fully recovered. Were it not for her, it would have required sedation to get him into the same room as his father.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve read her report.”

“We don’t think we have done anything special,” I said. “Taking care of your family is what you are supposed to do, isn’t it?”

“Between us, Philip and I have four sons of our own, all less than a year old,” Charles said. “Parenting Steve is giving us practice for the four of them.”

“Four boys, all under a year?” she said.

“It was arranged through a Clinic in Boston, with surrogate mothers,” Charles said.

“The two of you must have wanted children very badly,” she said. “I have a pretty good idea how much that must have cost, not to mention what an impact four small children will have on your lives.”

“As you may recall from my trial,” I said, “I lost an unborn child when my wife was murdered. When Charles and I were shot last year, we gave a lot of thought to the future, and our desire for posterity. In the end, we decided that we needed to have a family of our own.”

“We could both have been killed, and that gave us a sense of urgency, so we sort of speeded up the process,” Charles said, “Besides, having decided to have children, we decided that we wanted to see them grown, and out of college, before we retired.”

“How do you folks feel about the chance that the defendant might get out of prison early?” she said.

“I don’t want my nephew to spend the rest of his life, looking over his shoulder,” I said. “As you know, we’ve already had one incident.”

“I should think not,” she said, “but I wanted to ask for the record.”

We talked about Steve and his schooling at some length, including the Speedos Car Wash of the summer just past.

“I saw something about that in the news,” she said. “Those boys gave a huge amount to the Children’s Cancer Hospital.”

“They raised well over $100,000, all on their own initiative,” I said. “They gave $50,000 to the hospital, paid for the steam room at their school, and designated the remaining funds for scholarships.”

“They are already planning to raise even more money next summer,” Charles said.

“Your Honor,” I said. “After he came to us, Steve was very fragile for quite a while, but he has begun to blossom and become his own person. He wants to put this sordid business behind him, as do we all.”

“I realize that,” she said. “I’m not causing you to miss a flight, am I?”

“No Your Honor,” Charles said. “I flew us down here in my own plane. We don’t have a timetable to worry about, other than the fact that I don’t particularly like to fly at night.”

“I won’t keep you that long,” she said, with a smile.

“The boy’s mother has had a rough time of it, hasn’t she,” the Judge said.

“Your Honor,” I said, “When Marie and Steve came to the Christening last year, although we were in regular contact by telephone, I had not seen her in five years or so, and in that time, she had aged at least ten years. She eventually told me that her husband had been serially unfaithful, and more recently she learned that he had been skimming money from their business to fund his affairs.”

“She is getting her life back together,” Charles said, “and leaving Steve with us, where he feels both safe and comfortable, has made her life easier, despite the pain of being separated from her only son.”

We talked for a bit more with the Judge, and a few minutes later, we were back in the rear of the Courtroom, with Steve and Marie.

“I think we’re ready for a ride to the airport,” Charles said to Marie.

We thanked Simon for all of his help, and he promised to keep us posted. Steve and Jeff said good-bye, and hugged each other, and we were off.

On the way to the airport, the four of us compared notes on our various conferences with Judge McDaniel.

“I thought she was nice,” Steve said, “but I sure wouldn’t want her to be mad at me, because she is one tough lady.”

“Did you invite Jeff to come visit you in Atlanta?” I said.

“Yes, but I doubt if he will.”

“Why not?” Marie said.

“Because he has a boyfriend now, and I have Roger,” Steve said. “Jeff and I will always be friends, but that’s all.”

“So,” Marie said, seizing the opening, “Does that mean that Roger is your boyfriend?”

“Not officially,” Steve said, “but we like each other a lot, and I think he will be, pretty soon.”

“By the way, Philip,” Marie said, “I talked to Jack last night, and at the end of the conversation, he told me to tell you that he had bought his wife a razor. He said that you and Charles would understand. “

Charles and I smiled at that. Steve tried to suppress a giggle, and failed.

Marie said, “What was that all about?”

“Private joke,” I said.

“It’s a ‘guy’ thing,” Charles said.

Steve giggled again.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she said.

“In a word, no.”

During the flight back to Atlanta, I sat in the co-pilot’s seat, and Steve dozed in one of the back seats. We got home just in time for dinner, and the three of us made an early night of it.

In the end, Frank was sentenced to twenty years, without any chance for parole, and with credit for time served. Somehow, it seemed fitting.

On the last Friday in October, we were relaxing around the pool. Steve and Roger were in the pool, and they had been joined by Sammy Mangrum. Mason Cartwright and his wife were there, as were Dean Mangrum and his wife. Gran had even made a rare appearance.

The three boys got out of the water and came over to where we were sitting.

Roger addressed his father, “Dad, you know the team went on a field trip to the Children’s Cancer Hospital recently.”

“Yes, I do,” Mason said.

“Some of us would like to go out there and help, once in a while,” Roger said.

“Help how?” his mother said.

“We were talking to one of the Administrators, and she said they were always looking for kids who were willing to read to the patients who were confined to bed. She said that it is good for the patients to interact with kids who are not sick. Also, they have a pool, and some of the kids are encouraged to use it for physical therapy,” Roger said. “We can give them swimming lessons, if they don’t already know how.”

“Anyway,” Steve said, “we decided that we want to help.”

“So,” Roger said, “Can we?”

“I don’t see why not,” Mason said. He looked at the Dean and myself, and we both added our agreement.

“I think that’s commendable,” Gran said, “and I’m proud of all of you.”

Mrs. Mangrum expressed a desire to see the babies, and Gran said, “if you don’t mind walking an old lady back to the house, I’ll take you up to see them.”

The ladies left, and a few minutes later the Dean and Sammy left, leaving us alone with Mason, while Roger and Steve returned to the pool, to swim laps. They were both face down in the water, so I wasn’t worried about being overheard.

I leaned across the table, and said, in a soft enough voice that it would not carry around the pool enclosure, “Mason, do you remember the question you asked us a few months ago, up in our study?”

“Yes I do,” he said.

“We have the answer,” I said. “One evening, while Charles and I were listening to music, Steve and Roger joined us in the study. During the conversation, Charles asked them point blank if they were boyfriends, or just fooling around.”

“What did they say?”

“Roger answered, and said yes to the last part, and they weren’t sure about the first part.”

“We told him that you and your wife suspected he was gay.”

“How did he react to that?” Mason said.

“He was relieved,” I said. “He had been very worried about your reaction.”

“We told him that when he finally decided to talk to you, you would not be judgmental,” Charles said.

“We don’t know when that will happen, but it will happen,” I said.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Mason said.

“Don’t thank us,” I said, “just go easy on the boy. When he finally decides to come out to you, it will be the most difficult thing he has ever had to do.”

“I understand.”

Further conversation was precluded, when the boys came out of the water and announced that they were going to shower and change.

We already had season tickets for the Atlanta Symphony, and when the new season began, we acquired season tickets for Steve and Roger, and they seemed to enjoy the various events.

In November, we had a first birthday celebration for Mark and Steven, who were just beginning to grasp the rudiments of walking. We also began serving most of their meals in high chairs, at the table with us.

We had been attending the monthly functions of the Atlanta Wine and Food Society, and the November tasting was from our cellar. It had been decided that the group would sample all of the First Growth Bordeaux wines year by year, starting with the earliest year available in our cellar. There were so many years available in the cellar, that the schedule stretched out for several years. The wines were, in a word, wonderful.

We began the renovation of the attic in November, having decided to wait until the working conditions would not be so hot for the carpenters. I was amazed at its size. As Charles had told me, the attic ran the length of the house. The roof was high enough that there was almost ten feet of clearance in the center of the space, tapering down to nothing at the sides. A series of dormers ran down both sides of the roof.

We had walls constructed at a point where the roof was about three feet from floor level, and every dormer wound up with a built-in window seat. Although we would have preferred hardwood floors, we elected to have heavily padded carpeting installed, so that sound penetrating to the floor below would be kept to a minimum. Widening the stairs involved knocking out a wall, and making one of the spare bedrooms about two feet narrower than it had been.

We also added a couple of security cameras, placed such that we could monitor the kids from the study.

We hosted a party for Charles’ office in early December, and Marie and the girls spent a few days before Christmas with us. Steve, Roger, and Sammy had been going to the Children’s hospital almost every Saturday since they had asked permission to help, and they appeared to be genuinely touched by the plight of all the kids who were fighting cancer. They were particularly fond of an eleven-year-old named Jimmy, who they were teaching to swim.

At thirteen months, Mark and Steven were too little to really appreciate Christmas, so we decided to take a Christmas trip, knowing that it would be our last until the boys were old enough to enjoy travel. Charles persuaded Gran to go along by dangling the prospect of a private bedroom on the train in lieu of an airplane seat. We booked three bedrooms, one for us, one for Gran, and one for Steve and Roger.

Steve and Roger were beside themselves with excitement on the train. They couldn’t get over having a private room, with two bunks, and a tiny bathroom that included a shower.

We arrived in Penn Station nearly on time just after two o’clock in the afternoon, and got Gran settled in our suite at the St. Regis. Then we took the boys sightseeing. They were, in a word, overwhelmed, especially by the crowds around Rockefeller Center, not to mention the window displays along Fifth Avenue.

By the time Christmas Day arrived, we had seen two performances at the Metropolitan Opera, and one Broadway Play. We had also sampled a number of very nice restaurants, and had walked endlessly, up and down the streets of Manhattan.

We had also visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Guggenheim Museum of Modern Art. We had one more surprise in store for the boys, however.

We arrived at the Palm Court in the venerable Plaza Hotel in plenty of time for our one o’clock Christmas Brunch reservation. When we were seated, Steve spoke up.

“Why are there three extra places at the table, Uncle Philip?” he said.

“Some friends of ours are joining us,” I said.

“Who?”

“Just wait and see.”

“No need to wait,” Charles said, “just turn around and look behind you.”

The boys did as instructed, and jumped up from their places to greet Mason, Angela, and Marie, who were being escorted to our table.

We had arranged for Marie to fly to Atlanta, and then on to New York with the Cartwrights.

We lingered over our brunch for a couple of hours, during which time the boys could hardly stop talking, as they related their various adventures in New York.

They had particularly enjoyed The Marriage of Figaro, and Madama Butterfly at the Met. They had also enjoyed a performance of Arsenic and Old Lace, which featured two or three actors that the boys recognized from television.

The two of them wound down for a moment, and then Steve said. “We went to Midnight Mass last night, at Smokey Mary’s.”

“Smokey Mary’s?” Marie said.

“The Episcopal Church of St. Mary The Virgin,” I said. “It’s on 46^th Street, just off Times Square, and is commonly referred to as ‘Smokey Marys’ because they use a lot of incense.”

“Right,” Charles said. “If you Google the term ‘Smokey Marys,’ you will get a hit on their website.”

“Tomorrow night, we were going to see Miss Saigon,” Roger said, “but now that you guys are here, maybe we ought to cancel.”

“We already have tickets for everyone,” I said.

“Cool,” Roger said.

The next day, Charles and I stayed in the Hotel with Gran, while the two boys went out and about with their parents. That night, after the performance of Miss Saigon, we had dinner at Sardi’s, having stopped by the Hotel to pick up Gran for the occasion. She had attended the Operas with us, but had declined the Play.

“How did you like the play?” Gran said to Steve and Roger.

“It was great,” Steve said.

“Right,” Roger said, “they even had a Helicopter on stage.”

“I noticed something else about the Play,” Steve said.

“What?” Gran said.

“Miss Saigon is sort of the same story as Madama Butterfly, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much,” I said.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Roger said.

“I think you guys might enjoy going out to the Cloisters,” Charles said.

“What’s that?” Steve said.

“It’s a museum of medieval art, and it is at the extreme Northern tip of Manhattan Island,” Charles said.

“Why don’t you make it a ‘guy’ thing?” Angela said. “We ladies want to check out the post-Christmas sales on Fifth Avenue.”

“That’s too much walking for this lady,” Gran said, “but you young folks go right ahead.”

The next morning, we took a taxi to The Cloisters. The boys seemed quite taken by the artifacts on display. We were back at the hotel in time to have a late lunch with Gran.

Just as we were finishing our lunch, Angela and Marie appeared at our table. They were both carrying several shopping bags bearing a number of famous logos.

That evening we had a wonderful dinner at the Cornelia Street Café, in the Village, and the next day we went our separate ways home.

Shortly after New Years, we invited Mason and Angela Cartwright to dinner. Their younger sons were with grandparents, and Steve and Roger were expected back from their weekly hospital visit just in time for dinner.

We had just sat down to dinner, when the boys appeared. They were both somewhat subdued, and when we suggested that they should sit down at the table with us, they said they weren’t hungry.

“Did you pick up something to eat on the way home?” I said.

“No,” Steve said, “we’re just not hungry.”

“Okay, guys,” Charles said, “what’s the matter?”

“Do you remember us talking about the little kid we were teaching to swim?” Roger said.

“Yes,” Mason said. “Isn’t his name Jimmy?”

“Yes sir,” Steve said.

“We were going to give him another swimming lesson this afternoon, after we spent some time with the other kids” Roger said, “but....”

“They told us that he died last night,” Steve finished the sentence.

It was clear that both boys were on the verge of tears. Angela got up from the table and hugged her son. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she said, “but these things do happen.”

“But they told us he was getting better,” Roger said.

I got up and gave Steve a hug. “Cancer isn’t all that predictable,” I said.

“But, it isn’t fair, Uncle Philip,” he said, “Jimmy was such a neat little guy, and he was fighting so hard to get better.”

“Of course its not fair,” I said. “Life isn’t always fair.”

At this point, Gran intervened. “I think the two of you are being very brave,” she said, “but why don’t you go up to Steve’s room, and have a good cry in private. Get it out of your systems, and then come back down to dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” they chorused, and left the room.

When they were well out of earshot, Charles said, “I wonder if it was a mistake, allowing them to do that Hospital work?”

“No,” Gran said. “You can’t protect children from all of life’s realities, it just isn’t possible. Besides, both of them have the moral fiber to learn from this tragic experience, and be strengthened by it.”

“I agree,” Mason said, and Angela said, “so do I.”

By the time we had finished our dessert, the boys had come back downstairs, and joined us. It was evident that they had taken Gran’s advice, for their eyes were red and puffy. They ate quietly for a while, and finally Mason said, “do you guys want to talk about what happened?”

“Not now, Dad,” Roger said. “Maybe later.”

“I know what the two of you ought to do, as soon as possible,” Gran said.

“What’s that?” Steve said.

“I think that you should write a letter to Jimmy’s mother and tell her what you thought of Jimmy, and how much you enjoyed working with him. It will do you both good to write your feelings down on paper, and I’m sure it will mean a lot to his parents.”

“Was Jimmy from Atlanta?” I asked, knowing that the patients at the Hospital came from all over the country.

“His family has lived here for a couple of years,” Steve said, “but they are originally from Valdosta.”

“Then I think the two of you need to go to his funeral,” I said.

“Will you guys come with us?” Roger said.

“You bet we will,” his father said.

The boys, having eaten all they wanted, excused themselves, to go back upstairs.

“I think we have two very fine young men there,” Gran said.

“No argument there,” Mason said.

Gran excused herself to retire for the night, and Mason and Angela came up to the study to have a night cap with us. When they were ready to leave, we walked down the hall to collect Roger.

I tapped lightly on Steve’s door, but there was no answer, so I opened the door and looked in. The television was on, with the volume turned down low, and the two of them were out cold on the bed, still fully dressed. Steve was flat on his back, Roger was snuggled up against him, and Lance was curled up in a ball at their feet.

Lance looked up at us, and Charles pointed to the door and said softly, “Lance, bed.” The dog gave him a ‘who me’ look of reproach, hopped off the bed, and left the room.

“I guess there’s no point in disturbing them,” Mason said quietly. He and Angela moved around the bed, pulling the boys shoes off, and spreading a comforter over them. Charles went to the television to turn it off, and I went to turn off Steve’s computer.

The screen saver was running, so I brought the monitor to life before I shut the system down. There was a Word Perfect document up on the screen, and I glanced at it. The first few words caught my eye, so I quickly read the entire document. When I had finished, I sent four copies to the printer, saved the document, and shut the system down.

When the four of us were back in the hallway, Charles said, “what did you print?”

I motioned them into our office, and turned on the light. “Before they went to sleep, the boys were writing a letter to Jimmy’s mother,” I said, and handed the copies around.

Angela finished perusing the document, and said, “they weren’t just writing a letter, they were pouring their hearts out.”

“So they were,” Mason said. “This is extremely well written,” he added.

“We’ll see to it that they finish it tomorrow, and get it to the boy’s family,” Charles said. “Surely someone at the Hospital will give us the address, not to mention the boy’s last name.”

We saw the Cartwrights out, closed up the house, and went upstairs to check on our children. All was peaceful and quiet, so we went to bed. The next morning, we encouraged the boys to finish and sign the letter, which they did. Charles obtained the name and address, and arranged for the letter to be delivered to the family by courier.

Two days later, we all accompanied the boys to Jimmy’s funeral. Mercifully, the casket was closed. There was a framed picture of Jimmy resting on it.

The Minister was Dr. Albert Kissling, from the First Presbyterian Church. After the religious portion of the service was over, he said that he had something very special to read to us.

“You may not be aware of this,” he said, “but members of the Swim Team at a local private school have been working with the patients at the Cancer Center for some time, now. Two of them were teaching Jimmy to swim, as part of his physical therapy. When they learned of his passing, these two boys wrote a letter to Mrs. Anderson, and I want to read a portion of it to you, today.”

He proceeded to read excerpts from the letter that Roger and Steve had written, which focused on how they felt about Jimmy, and his struggle, and how upset they had been, when they learned of his death.

“These two young men,” he went on to say, “have said it all, and I cannot think of a more fitting tribute to the deceased.”

After the service, we went up to pay our respects. Angela had picked up the boys from school, and they were, of course, wearing their Exeter blazers. Mrs. Anderson recognized Steve and Roger, having met them at the Hospital. She gave them each a hug, and thanked them for all that they had done for her son. She told them that the letter they had written was the most beautiful thing she had ever read.

Everyone got a little teary eyed at that. The grave side service was scheduled for later that day, down in Valdosta, where the Andersons had a family plot, so we left, and took the boys to lunch.

When we were very nearly finished with our lunch, both boys excused themselves to go to the restroom, giving the adults an opportunity for private conversation.

Mason told us that Roger had finally told them that he was gay.

“That took a great deal of courage,” I said.

“We know,” Angela said, “and we told him so.”

“The two of them seem to be holding up well, after what happened,” Mason said.

“Yes they are,” Charles said. “I think they are putting the whole thing in perspective.”

The boys returned to the table, and I asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“So,” I said, “are you guys going back to the Hospital this Saturday?”

“You bet,” Roger said.

“We went over to St. Philip’s yesterday after school, and talked to Sammy’s dad,” Steve said.

“He told us that there are lots of other kids in the Hospital who need our help,” Roger said, “and that we shouldn’t give up.”

“He said that although most of them go to the Cancer Center hoping to be cured, many of them go there to die, and they deserve whatever comfort we are able to give them,” Steve said.

“Good for you,” Mason said. “We’re all very proud of you two.”

Angela fished in her purse, and produced some keys. “Roger,” she said, as she removed a key from her key ring, “why don’t you and Steve go back to school in my car. Someone will take me home.”

“Okay, mom,” he said, and he and Steve excused themselves, and left the restaurant.

“What was that about?” Mason said.

“We need to tell Charles and Philip the rest of it,” she said.

“I guess you’re right,” he said.

Charles and I looked at the Cartwrights with raised eyebrows.

Angela looked at her husband, and said, “you start.”

Mason sat for a minute, and said, “When Roger told us he was gay, he also told Jack and Harry, his younger brothers.”

“The two of them have been making Roger’s life miserable ever since,” Angela said.

“In what way?” I said.

“For one thing, until we caught them at it, and put a stop to it, the two of them never missed a chance to tell Roger that he was going to Hell, for being gay,” Mason said.

“They weren’t raised to believe things like that,” Angela said, “and they certainly didn’t hear it in Sunday School classes at St. Philip’s, so we started looking for the source of the infection.”

“And, we certainly found it,” Mason said.

“There is a family a couple of streets over from us who have two boys the same ages as Jack and Harry,” Angela said. “The four boys have played together most of their lives. The other two are frequently guests in our house, and Jack and Harry are frequently at their house.”

“The other boys’ father, Robert Wilson, is an Associate Pastor at the First Baptist Church,” Mason said. “Apparently, he is a big Bible-thumper, and he never misses an opportunity to brainwash and/or indoctrinate anybody who happens to spend any time in his house.”

“He has turned our two younger sons into raging homophobes,” Angela said.

“That’s not all,” Mason said, “Angela surveyed some other parents in the neighborhood, those who have sons who we know interact with that family. These parents started questioning their sons, and found that they, too, had been fed a great deal of hellfire and brimstone, and a number of outlandish beliefs.”

“We found out, that any time there are one or two kids visiting, if Mr. Wilson is around, he always has an impromptu prayer meeting with the kids,” Angela said. “The boys mentioned it to us once or twice, but we thought it sounded harmless. After all, how could prayer be harmful?”

“It turns out that these little prayer meetings were regular indoctrination sessions,” Mason said.

“That’s the most despicable thing I’ve ever heard,” Charles said.

“Yes, it is,” Mason said.

“What have you done about it?” I said.

“For one thing, we have banned those two boys from our home, and absolutely forbidden Jack and Harry to have any further contact with that family,” Angela said.

“The other fathers and I paid a call on the Rev. Mr. Wilson, one evening,” Mason said, “and we told him in no uncertain terms that we thought he was a totally despicable person. Since then, we, and the other families, have made things just unpleasant enough for them, that the Wilsons have put their house up for sale,” Mason said.

“Naturally,” Angela said, “Jack and Harry are blaming Roger for the loss of their two friends, which, of course, has made things that much worse for Roger.”

“Dean Mangrum has put us in contact with a group that has some expertise working with children who have fallen in with cults,” Mason said, “but it will take months, perhaps even a couple of years, to undo the damage.”

“We haven’t heard even a hint of all this,” Charles said.

“We asked Roger not to say anything, even to Steve, until we had a handle on it,” Mason said.

“Would it help defuse the situation if Roger came to stay with us for a few months, or as long as necessary?” I said.

“Yes it would,” Angela said.

“Frankly,” Mason said, “if you hadn’t offered, we were going to ask.”

“Consider it done,” Charles said.

“The affected families ought to sue this bastard,” I said.

“Is that possible?” Mason said.

“You could sue,” Charles said. “And you might collect some damages. You would certainly make a very public point, but I don’t know if it would have any long term effect. On the other hand, it might let other parents know that they need to be wary of just who their children spend time with.”

“It sounds like something the Integrity Foundation ought to take up,” I said.

Charles gave the two of them a quick rundown on the Foundation, and I promised to put them in touch with its Director of Litigation.

“I want to make that bastard pay for what he has done to this family,” Mason said.

“I think I can assure you that we can do just that,” I said.

Charles and Mason returned to their respective offices, and I drove Angela home. She decided to take the two younger boys with her to visit her parents that evening, so Mason and Roger could move Roger’s things out without distraction.

I was waiting in the study when Steve got home from school that afternoon, and I asked him to come sit beside me on the sofa.

“Has Roger given you any hint of problems at home, lately?” I said.

“He told me that he had come out to his parents and his brothers,” Steve said.

“And?”

“His parents were fine, and I think his brothers have been giving him a hard time, but he won’t talk about it.”

“His brothers have been giving him more than a hard time,” I said, “but his parents made him promise not to talk about it for a while.”

“They talked to you?”

“That’s why Angela gave Roger her car keys at lunch. She wanted to tell us what was going on.”

“What did she tell you?”

“I’ll let Roger fill you in on that when he gets here.”

“He’s coming over?”

“He’s doing more than that,” I said, “he is going to come and live with us for a few months.”

“Cool.”

“Follow me,” I said, and I led him down the hall to the bedroom next to his. I did a quick inspection of the room and the closet.

“You need to go clean out this closet,” I said, “and any of the extra stuff in this bedroom. Mr. Goodman will show you the storage areas in the basement.”

“We don’t need to do this,” he said. “Roger can share my room.”

“I know he can, and I’m sure he’ll spend 99% of his time, day and night, in your room. However, he still needs his own space, even if it is mostly for show, and never used.”

I gave the room a once-over, pointing out things that could be stored downstairs, and left Steve to handle things.

I went down to the sun room, and found Gran in one of the easy chairs, with a book in her lap, and a cup of tea nearby. I had already told her what was happening. Her reaction, as always, had been, “the more young people around, the merrier.”

She looked up from her book as I approached.

“I just told Steve the news,” I said.

“I take it he was pleased.”

“You can say that. He’s busily cleaning up the room next to his right now.”

“I’m surprised that he didn’t offer to share his room.”

“He did, but I told him that Roger needed a space that was uniquely his, even if he seldom used it.”

“That makes sense,” she said.

“Did you ever think you would see six boys in residence in this house at one time?”

“Not in my wildest dreams,” she said, “but I think it’s wonderful.”

“I don’t know if Charles has told you, but we still have the option of producing two more babies.”

“Are you going to do so?”

“I’m not at all certain, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Good,” she said, “the two of you have such a lot to offer.”

“Are you certain that you don’t relish some peace and quiet?”

“My dear boy,” she said. “At my age, I can expect to have eternal peace and quiet soon enough. You and Charles both know that I am enjoying all of the sounds of life in this house.”

We were still talking, when Steve came down to ask me to inspect Roger’s new room. I followed him upstairs, looked the room over, and pronounced it ready for occupancy.

Mason and Roger arrived about an hour later, and we began carrying Roger’s belongings upstairs.

We stacked the clothing and other items in the hallway, just as we had done when Steve had moved in.

I opened the door, and said, “Roger, this will be your room.”

“I thought I’d be sharing Steve’s room,” he said.

“That’s what Steve said, and I have no doubt that you’ll probably spend 99% of your time in Steve’s room,” I said. “But, as I told Steve, everyone needs his own space, so this will be yours, even if you hardly ever use it.”

“Okay, he said.”

“Why don’t you and Steve start organizing the room, while Philip and I go back for another load?” Mason said.

The boys started doing just that, and Mason and I went back down to the driveway.

“You handled that one very well,” he said.

“You and I both know that the two of them will spend every minute together,” I said, “but as I told Roger, everyone needs his own space. In a week’s time, I’ll bet that most of Roger’s everyday clothes are in Steve’s closet, but that’s up to the two of them.”

“This whole business has really pissed me off,” Mason said. “As soon as I hear from your Foundation guy, I’m going to the other parents, and I know they will agree to go full tilt with a lawsuit.”

“I’ll make the call first thing in the morning.” I said. “By the way, Steve was clueless about all of this. He told me that he sensed there was a problem with Roger’s brothers, but Roger wouldn’t talk about it.”

“It’s good to know that Roger kept his promise,” Mason said.

“They’re both good kids,” I said.

“Yes they are,” he said. “Now that Roger is safe and out of the line of fire, Angela and I can focus on making good kids out of Jack and Harry.”

Charles drove up, just as we were heading back into the house, loaded down with clothing. He hurried upstairs to change, and quickly joined us.

With a third pair of hands available, it only required one more trip to finish emptying Mason’s car.

We joined Gran for a late dinner, after which Mason and the two boys went to the Cartwright house to retrieve the rest of Roger’s things.

When Roger’s room was set up to everyone’s satisfaction, we walked Roger and Mason to the door. Roger hugged his dad fiercely.

Mason returned the hug, and said, “You behave yourself, and be good.”

“I will, dad,” Roger said. “I love you.”

“I love you too, son,” Mason said.

Mason left, and we closed up the house. I gave Roger a set of keys, and asked Steve to show him how to operate the gates, and set the alarm.

The two boys sat with us in the study for a while. They each hugged, and thanked, Charles and me, before they went down the hall to go to bed.

We checked on our offspring, and went to bed as well.

-To be continued-

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Your feedback, as always, is appreciated, be it good, bad, or indifferent.

Etienne.Reynard@Comcast.net

My stories may be found on the following site:

http://tickiestories.us/Etienne_m.htm

My thanks as always to the tireless Rockhunter for editing the last few chapters.

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