Working It Out
Book 2
© 2002 by Don Hanratty
dhanr1@msn.com

Part 1

        Mike was pumped.
        After two years of pain and loneliness, the mere sight of Matt made him high.  When the initial shock of seeing his brother and his two kids emerge from the limo in front of his condo had worn off, he was alive.  And it felt damn good, but he tried not to be too obvious about it.
        Mike helped Matt retrieve the luggage from the car and took his surprise guests upstairs.  Sitting them down in the den, he went back downstairs and untied Breakers from his tree for a short walk.  When he came back, he found Matt sitting on the big leather couch, with his two little guys walking and crawling around on the oriental rug in front of the fireplace--a new world for them to conquer.  Breakers went over to them and shoved his cold nose in the boys' faces, and they laughed and pulled his hair.  The dog licked them and tussled gently with them, new friendships made in an instant.
        "I can't believe you're here," Mike said, looking at Matt and shaking his head.
        "Me either," Matt said.  "I know it's not cool of me just to show up without any warning, but I thought one of us should get off the dime.  I figured it was my move.  I hope you're not pissed."
        "How long can you stay?"
        "I'm on Spring break right now.  I have to go back next Sunday at the latest.  Unless you kick us out. ."
         "I'm off this next week, too, so. .You and the boys hungry or anything?" Mike asked.
        "I'm good, but I should rustle something up for the guys--their eating schedule is a little screwed up from the trip.  I have some baby food that they still like."
        Matt searched through a couple of his suitcases and came up with some strained peaches and two bibs.  Mike retrieved teaspoons from the kitchen.  The brothers each grabbed a boy and put him on his lap, food-proofed him with a bib, and began to dole out the baby food accompanied by some verbal encouragement.  The twins were hungry, and began eating their brunch without any fuss.
        "I should warn you that you'll be seeing these peaches again in another form," Matt laughed as they spooned the food into hungry mouths.
        "That's what the medical books say," Mike responded.  "I hope it smells better than their dad's."
        "Worse!  And I want you to get a good whiff of it later."
        Mike laughed, and they continued spooning the peaches..
        "Hey, you're a natural at this, bro!" Matt said when they were finished.
        "Just learning from the master," Mike said.  He stood up and put little Matt in his dad's lap, and went to get warm washcloths to wipe the twins' faces.  Afterwards Matt put the twins back down on the rug.  The kids crawled a few feet, looked around a bit more, and simultaneously decided  to crash.
        "They always go to sleep that fast?" Mike asked.
        "I wish!  No, they're a little tired from the trip."
        "Yeah."
        "Mike, listen, can I borrow your truck?  I should go get a few things if you're gonna let us stay."
        "Yes.  I want you to stay.  I'll watch the boys."  Mike reached into his pocket and tossed Matt his keys.  "Just hit "B" in the elevator, and it'll take you to the garage.  The truck is in the third parking space on the left."
        " 'K.  I want to get a couple of cribs and a playpen.  Do we need anything else?"
        "Yeah.  We should child-proof this place.  If you don't see a slab of foam rubber for sale anywhere, just buy a couple of foam rubber pillows so we can cut them up. We need to make some pads for the sharp corners on stuff around here.  Oh, and you better get some car seats in case we want to go somewhere."
        Matt nodded, snatched his favorite baseball cap out of his luggage, put it on, grabbed his college letter jacket, and left.
        Mike couldn't help himself.  His eyes glued themselves to Matt's perfectly contoured ass in those 501's as he walked out, and his dick lurched in his boxers.  Reluctantly averting his gaze, he lay down on the floor on his stomach and studied his nephews as they slept peacefully on the rug.
        The boys were truly beautiful.  They were finely complexioned, their skin a healthy pink color, topped with blond curls from Sarah's side of the family.  Mike tried to find some of Sarah's looks in their faces, but couldn't--their features were definitely those of Matt.  Their cute little butts tapered down into good, solid, chunky legs.  Yeah, they'll be jocks all right, he thought to himself.  I'd bet on it.
        Getting up, he retrieved two light blankets from a closet and gently covered each of the boys.  Then he lay back down between them to catch a few Z's himself.  He felt very relaxed, and drifted off.
        Mike awakened with a start when Matt touched his shoulder.  He had been sleeping for more than an hour, and the boys were just beginning to stir.
        "You get everything?" Mike yawned.
        "Yeppers.  And then some.  I bought some high chairs, too, and this potty chair, and some strollers.  I'm gonna have to make a couple trips to the garage, though, to bring the rest of it up," Matt said.
        "Gimme the keys.  I'll take a turn."
        " 'K.  The boys behave?"
        "Perfect.  Just like their uncle." Mike said with a straight face.
        "They were that bad!  I'm gonna give 'em a good spanking, then."
        "Uh huh.  Right!  Don't make me call Family Services, now!"
        Matt laughed, and Mike turned to go.  Matt took his turn watching his brother's butt and his broad shoulders as he walked out.  I've missed that beautiful, sexy, sweet-assed guy, Matt thought to himself, and then turned his attention to the boys.  They were in the throes of toilet training, but it wasn't a done deal yet.  He sniffed their behinds.  The kids still smelled good.  Time for a preemptive strike.
        "Guys, why don't we go to the bathroom, all right?"  The boys gurgled at him but were otherwise mute.  Matt took the new potty chair out of its box, picked the boys up, and headed for a nearby bathroom.  He put first one and then the other on the potty.  They each resisted at first, but finally acquiesced and did their thing.   Afterwards, Matt washed their backsides with a warm, damp wash cloth, re-dressed them, and took them back to the den.  They resumed their crawling and walking around their new world.
        Mike came staggering past the door to the den dragging one of the cribs in its box, and went on down the hall to the middle bedroom.  Matt followed him.
        "Man, these things are heavy," Mike said.  "I'm gonna put you guys in this bedroom, if that's all right."
        "That's cool.  You have tools so we can put these together?"
        "Yeah, there's a toolbox under the sink."
        "You want me to bring up the rest of the stuff?" Matt asked.
        "No.  I'm gonna get the janitor to help me.  He has a cart."
        " 'K.  I'm gonna start putting this one together."
        Mike left again for the garage, and Matt went back to the den and brought the boys into the bedroom.  Once again, new worlds for them to conquer, and the kids got right on it.  Matt grabbed the toolbox from the kitchen.  After opening the crib box and reading the directions for setting up the new bed, he went to work while the boys "helped."
        As soon as all the new purchases were upstairs in one spot, Matt and Mike worked for about an hour and a half putting together the two cribs, a playpen, the highchairs and the strollers.  Miraculously, the right hardware had all been packed in the proper quantities to get the job done.
        Matt's shopping trip had also yielded some foam rubber, so the brothers cut themselves some foam squares and went around taping them to all the sharp corners on the fireplace and any tables that posed a problem.
        Finally finished, they folded up the playpen to get it back through the bedroom door and took it to the den.  Plopping the twins in their new little jail, Matt gave them a few of their favorite toys out of the suitcases, and then he and Mike collapsed on the couch.
        "Dude, I never knew you were such a craftsman," Matt said.  "You do good work."
        "Pshaw," Mike responded, holding up his hands for inspection.  "These are the hands of an almost-doctor!  Maybe those of a surgeon!"
        "A sturgeon?  That sounds fishy to me."
        Mike groaned.  "Grad school hasn't done a thing for your sense of humor, I see."
        "Why, thanks, bud.  It's as finely tuned as ever."
        "Have mercy!"
        Matt looked over at his brother slyly.
        "I do believe I have a story for ya.  A doctor story, no less!"
        "No-o-o-o."
        "Yeah.  And don't be howling with laughter and scaring the kids."  Matt instructed.
        "Don't worry about that.  I'm an adult now.  I can take the pain.  I guess."
        "Well, it seems that a bunch of med students much like yourself  were attending their first lab in pathology class.  Each pair of  them had a cadaver on the table in front of him.
        "The professor said, 'I want you to pay close attention, because  noticing details and having a strong stomach separate the good  students in pathology from the mediocre ones. Now, I want each  of you to do what I do.'
        "The professor took the middle finger of his right hand, plunged  it into the nearest cadaver's rectum, and then quickly brought his  hand to his mouth and licked it.
        The students were stunned, but after a long minute, they did as they  had been told.
        "'I see you do have strong stomachs, but your powers of observation  need work.  You should have noticed that the finger I actually licked  was my index finger.'"    
        "Ugh," Mike said, "you're as disgusting as ever!  Holy shi..."  Mike stopped himself, looking at the twins, then continued.  "I hope the boys got Sarah's sense of humor, not yours."
        "I don't think so, bud.  You know you love it, Mikey."
        "Yeah, like root canal."
        "Don't worry, I'll only give you my best material this week."
        "Take my advice.  Don't ever try to make your living as a comedian."
        "That's my fallback job if the lawyer thing doesn't work out.  I've been honing my skills."
        "Forget the honing.  You'd have done better to concentrate on the law books."
        "Don't push me, I have more, you know," Matt said with a grin.
        "And I have earplugs, so give me a big, hairy break!"
        At that point, little Mike stood up in the playpen, held up his arms, and said, "Potty, daddy!"
        "Good boy!" Matt told him.  Putting a kid under each arm, away they went to the bathroom, Matt praising both of them as they used the potty chair.
        Matt and Mike frittered away the afternoon and early evening playing with the boys, catching up on family, and talking a little about school.  Matt kept the boys up a little past their usual bedtime, and then he and Mike fed them, bathed them, and eventually put them down.  The kids were starting to call Mike, "Unk Mike," much to his delight.
        Mike ordered in some pizza and beer, and he and Matt ate and relaxed in front of the fire, listening to music on Mike's new entertainment center.  Mike put on some of the classical CD's that Matt had insisted he keep after Mike's mother was killed.  Matt tried from time to time to steer the conversation toward their relationship, but Mike avoided it, and still feeling the barrier between them, Matt let it go.
        About 11 o'clock, Mike stood up and stretched and yawned, and said he was going to bed.  Matt got up and put his arms around him and kissed him on the lips.  Mike looked Matt in the eye, touched his face, and then headed for his room.  Matt sat back down for a minute, then went to his own room and checked on the twins.  They were sleeping soundly.  Stripping to his shorts, he said his prayers, and fell into bed and dreamless sleep.  All was quiet except for Breakers' toenails clicking down the hall as he went to Mike's room to settle in for the night.
                                                      *  *  *
        Mike awakened slowly Sunday morning after one of the best night's sleep he had had in a long time.  He could feel Breakers at his feet.  Opening his eyes slowly in the dim light, he was startled to see Matt sitting cross legged in the recliner about 10 feet from the bed, clad only in those blindingly white jockeys he always wore.  Even in the dim morning light, Mike could see that Matt's unblemished skin shone with health, and he looked as buff as he did when he was an 18 year old wrestler.
        "Uhhhhh," Mike groaned as he rolled on his back, morning wood tenting his boxers and the bedsheet.
        "Morning," Matt said softly.
        "Morning.  What are you doing?"
        "Just thinking, and watching you sleep."
        "Oh."
        Silence.
        "Can I get in bed with you?"
        Looking over at Matt, quicksilver emotions cascaded across Mike's face:  surprise, anger, sorrow, suspicion, indecision, longing, love.
        Finally, Mike flipped back the covers.  " 'K.  But I gotta hit the john."
        Mike got out of bed, making no attempt to hide his hardon, and Matt climbed in and waited for his brother to come back.
        Mike returned sans his erection, got in bed on his back, and pulled the sheet up under his chin.  Matt turned on his side toward him, and Mike got a whiff of that clean, healthy smell that Matt always emanated.
        Impulsively, Matt reached over and smoothed Mike's hair back from his forehead as he had done a thousand times before.  Mike didn't make a sound, but his eyes suddenly filled up and tears coursed down his cheeks.
        "I'm sorry, Mike.  I didn't mean to. . ."
        Mike couldn't talk for a long moment because of the lump in his throat.
        "It's OK," he finally said.  "It's just. . .I never in a million years thought I would ever feel you do that to me again."
        Matt rubbed the moisture from his own eyes and studied Mike's face.
        "Mike?"
        "Yeah?"
        "Do you remember the first time we made love up at the lake?"
        "Well, yeah.  That's one of those experiences you don't forget."
        "It seems like a lifetime ago," Matt said. "I know you don't really understand why I've done some of the things I have--I don't even understand it completely myself--but I feel the same way about you now as I did then.  That's never changed.  I have the same butterflies in my stomach right now, too.  You make me feel like no one else in this world ever has."
        Mike turned his head and looked into Matt's eyes, saying nothing.
        "I love you, Mike.  I want you to know that.  I want you to know that if we can make a go of this relationship again, you will always be number one in my heart from this day forward.  I mean it.  I--no, I hope we--will nurture and love the boys with all the energy and commitment we have.  But we both know that if we do the job for them right, down the line they're going to walk out the door one day and leave us behind so they can pass on the love they got from us to their special people, whoever they are.  That'll leave you and me right where we started--with each other.  Or at least that's what I want.  I'm asking for another chance."
        "Did you love Sarah, Matt?"
        "Very, very, very much.  I thought the world of her.  I think I tried to explain this on the phone to you once, but I admit I don't have the words to put it across very well.  She was truly a wonderful person, and she was far better to me than I deserved.  She would have been a great mother to the boys if she had lived.  She was always supportive, a true friend, although she could be willful and spirited about some things, just like the rest of us.  I miss her deeply as a person.  Sex with her was good.  But from the day you and I started rooming together at school, you've always been the fire in my soul.  You've been the one who gets me off my ass and doing things I need to do and actually liking it.  My spirit and your spirit play off of one another in a wonderful way.  You complete me.  I love you, I admire you, I respect you, I'm always happy when I'm with you, and I'm definitely in lust with you and your body.  You've always been in my heart through everything, and you always will be, whatever happens. . ."
        A thin wail from the next bedroom interrupted, closely followed by a twin voice of complaint.
        Matt's head fell to the pillow in frustration.
        "I'd be the last one to tell you that this is an easy job, bud," he sighed, smiling ruefully.  He kissed Mike on the cheek, and rolled over him to go to the boys.
        Mike lay in bed staring at the ceiling thoughtfully for a minute.  Then he got up, and went to help Matt.
        They greeted the boys for the new day, cleaned them up, and then Mike fixed soft scrambled eggs and orange juice for all of them and a pot of coffee for him and Matt.  They managed to get a few spoonfuls of eggs down the kids along with a little juice, and then Matt put them in their playpen in the den for a few minutes while he and Mike ate.
        "We going to mass?" Matt asked when they finished eating and straightening up the kitchen.
        "I'd like to.  They have a nursery for the kids at St. Stephen's."
        "Excellent.  What time?"
        "Either nine-thirty or eleven.  We'd prolly be cutting it a little close to try and make the nine-thirty."
        "That's cool.  Eleven it is."
        They went into the den and joined the kids, who were still stuck in their playpen jabbering away to each other.
        "We're going to church this morning, guys," Matt said to them.
        "NO!" little Mike shot back.
        "Whaddaya mean, NO?" his dad said.
        "NO," little Matt threw in his two cents.
        Mike started to laugh.
        "They're you all the way, man," he said.  "Every bad thing you ever did to Mom and Dad is going to come back to haunt you--times two.  There is a God."
        "Now, boys, after we go to church, we could stop and get some ice cream," Matt negotiated.
        "Ice cream," little Matt shrilled.  "Ice cream, ice cream."
        "Ice cream," little Mike echoed.
        The incipient rebellion quelled for the moment, Mike took the twins out of the playpen to continue their exploring, and then went to his front door for the Sunday paper.  He and Matt sat in their shorts drinking coffee, reading and watching the boys toddle around.
        When they had each read the sports page thoroughly and the comics, Matt went to shower, leaving Mike with the kids.  Taking their hands, he walked them slowly from the den into the living room.  He pushed a button next to a light switch, and thirty-five feet of heavy drapes slowly opened to reveal a wall of glass and a magnificent, unobstructed view of Lake Michigan.  The boys weren't too sure about this, and stayed well back from the huge windows, but intently watched the waves splash up on the shore far below.  Mike knelt down and talked to them about the lake.
        It looks like a nice Spring day out, Mike thought to himself.  A really great day.  He and the boys went back to the den, the boys jabbering away to each other.
        After Matt showered and dressed, Mike took his turn.  Matt put fresh diapers, play suits and shoes and socks on the kids.  When Mike was ready, they helped the boys into their little hooded jackets, and they went down to the garage carrying the boys and the new car seats.  Matt automatically went to the truck, but Mike waved him over to an older model white Blazer next to it.
        "Is this yours?" Matt asked.
        "Yeah.  I bought it used from a buddy in med school who needed to sell it.  It's a couple years old, but it's in good shape."
        They fastened the car seats securely in back, buckled the kids in, and away they went.
        People were still streaming out of St. Stephen's from the previous mass when they parked and went in.  Matt looked around appreciatively--it was like coming home for him to be back where he and Mike had usually gone to church when they were together in Chicago.  Racks of votive lights were flickering, sweet-smelling incense was still floating around in the clerestory of the old, gothic building, and the massive, free-standing altar loomed patiently in the gloom at the end of the darkened chancel.  Matt and Mike exited into the parish house, found the nursery, and dropped the boys off without any protest from them.  Then they re-entered the church, found a pew, and knelt to say their prayers.
        The organ began playing softly, the music undergirded by 32 foot bourdon pipes which were more felt in the gut than heard, and which gently rattled the stained glass windows.  The choir filed in silently to lead the opening hymn once they were in place.  Lent was winding down, soon to be followed by Passiontide and Easter.  The purple-clad celebrant, flanked by a deacon and subdeacon, began censing the freestanding altar and the huge crucifix, beginning the formal high mass that was always offered at this hour on Sunday.
        The other didn't know it, but Matt and Mike each gave thanks for the opportunities this coming week would offer them to share time together.  The eucharist was like an old friend as, side by side, they sang and made the required liturgical responses.
        After mass, they collected the boys from the nursery and headed for a little ice cream shop in Evanston, the boys' reward for going to church without fussing, although Matt didn't give them all the ice cream they wanted.  Afterwards they drove over to the Northwestern campus, and took the kids for a short walk along the lake shore.  The breeze off Lake Michigan was cooler than they had expected, so they didn't keep the little guys out in it for too long.
        Mike dropped Matt and the kids off back at the condo, and made a quick trip to the grocery and to a nearby video store for a couple of movies.
        "What did you get?" Matt asked when Mike came back.
        "A couple of steaks we can cook on the grill later.  And 'Platoon' and 'The Matrix.'"
        "Ooooo, our man Keanu!" Matt said enthusiastically.
        "Yeah.  I saw a shot of him on the net the other day, leaning against his motorcycle with his tool hanging out.  It was a fake, of course, but in the pic he was really hung."
        Little Matt picked that moment to smack his twin and knock him down, for no apparent reason.  Mike picked up the offender, and went and sat on the couch with him while Matt comforted the victim.  The crisis passed quickly, and Matt went and retrieved some more jars of baby food out of his luggage, and the brothers fed the little guys, who then decided to take another snooze on the rug.  Mike covered them up with blankets again.
        "Ya know, we gotta do something about these names," Mike said thoughtfully as they sat down on the couch.  "Everybody around here is Matt and Mike.  Would you object if we started calling the boys Matthew and Michael, just to keep things straight?"
        "That's cool with me," Matt said.  "An inspired thought, bro!  Just like everything you say."
        "Aw, shucks, dude," Mike grinned. "You're as big a bullshitter as ever, I see."
        They bantered back and forth for awhile like old times.
        "Mike, do you think we could throw a little get-together for the sisters and Stan Rosinsky and Arnie Watkins, and maybe Tony Angelo and his wife, while I'm here?  I'd really like to see them."
        "That would be cool," Mike said.  "Stan is engaged, so we could invite his fiancée' to come over, too, and see if she's a good fit for Stan.  We might want to have Arnie over separately, though.  He's more flamboyant than ever.  I think he might be more comfortable with just us, and I'm sure I would."
        "Well," Matt said slowly.  "It's not like I'm ashamed of him.  He's a friend."
        "It's up to you, bro," Mike said. "Whatever you say."
        "You're probably right," Matt finally said after thinking it over.  "I want to see Arnie in all his flaming glory, not holding back and trying to look straight--not that he would!"
        "All right, why don't we try to set it up for Wednesday night?  And let's ask Arnie for Friday night."
        "Excellent!  And I want to help you do this, so don't try to do it all yourself," Matt instructed.
        " 'K.  Do you know I've never had a party here?  I feel like I'm coming out of my crypt."
        "Well, we'll christen the place real good, then."
        "I'm thinking about dinner on Wednesday, not just drinks.  And I think we should have dinner catered, don't you?" Mike asked.  "Then we can enjoy the night, too."
        Matt laughed and put his arm across Mike's shoulders and rocked him gently.
        "Two great minds racing down the same track to the same destination, dude!" he said.  "My very thought!"
        "That's settled, then," Mike said with satisfaction.  "Hey, whaddaya want to do this afternoon?"
        "Man, I need some exercise.  Will you watch the boys while I take a run on the beach?"
        "No problem.  We'll take turns," Mike said.
        " 'K.  Uh, can I borrow a jock and a pair of shorts?  I knew I'd forget something when I packed."
        "Sure," Mike said, and Matt followed him back to Mike's bedroom.
        Mike reached into his bureau drawer for a clean jock.  Matt cleared his throat.
        "Um, give me one you've already worn.  You remember the good old days in our apartment when you used to practically snatch my smelly ol' jock right off my body?  Well, buddy, this worm has turned and seen the wisdom of your ways."
        Mike smiled and went over to his closet, and from a pile of dirty clothes in a laundry bag on the floor picked out a jockstrap and pair of running shorts.  He handed them to Matt, who put them over his face and stood there inhaling Mike's male smells for a long moment without a trace of self-consciousness.  Then he went to his room, stripped, and dressed for his run.
        Mike met him at the front door before he left, and handed him the building and condo keys on an elastic wristband.
        "Don't wear yourself out, you jocknapper!" he told Matt, pinched his ass, and quickly shut the door behind him to avoid retribution.
        Matt came back in about an hour all sweated up despite the cool temperatures, and Mike was waiting, dressed for his own run.  Mike left with Breakers in tow, and Matt put the boys in the playpen so he could grab a quick shower.  When Matt finished, he took a quick peek at the kids, who were taking a little mid-afternoon siesta.  He covered them up, got dressed, and then went back to the den.  Taking a long match from its container on the mantle, he turned on the gas and lighted the fireplace.  The blue and yellow flames cheered the room.
        Matt lay down on the big leather couch, and smiled involuntarily as he reflected on his visit so far.  He thought he had had a  good memory of the intense satisfaction it gave him to be around Mike, but the real thing was better by far.   After a few minutes, he went to sleep.
        Mike returned in a little over an hour, showered and dressed, and woke Matt up.  They fed Matthew and Michael, and then Mike defrosted the steaks and fired up a gas grill out on a balcony off the den.  He asked Matt to nuke some potatoes in the microwave, and while the steaks were cooking on the grill, he worked on a sliced cucumber, green pepper and tomato salad which he covered in red wine vinaigrette.  Before long they were contentedly chowing down in front of the fireplace on TV trays.
        "I don't remember your being such a good cook," Matt said.  "This is great.  The steaks are excellent!  You're a cute Julia Childs, y'know."
        "Survival skills," Mike said between bites.  "If you eat crap all the time, you'll look like crap.  And feel like it."
        "Dr. Mike speaks!  But it must be true!  You look good, bro."
        "So do you.  Have you been working out, or what?"
        "Once in awhile.  But you'll get a laugh outta this.  I've invaded the kingdom of wimps--lately I've been swimming three times a week."
        "That's excellent.  There's no better exercise in the world.  But I don't care if I ever step foot in a pool again.  Competitive swimming burns you out.  You just get to the point where the only water you want to see is in your shower."
        "Yeah.  I guess that's true of most competitive sports after awhile.  It's hard to face the grind even one more time. By the way, when did you start wearing a brush cut instead of a high and tight?" Matt asked.
        "A couple months ago.  I just wanted a change, but I still didn't want to mess with long hair.  Maybe my old high school fantasies of life as a Marine finally died, I don't know.  Anyway. . ."
        They ate in silence for a few minutes, glancing over at the boys every so often as they tried to escape the confines of the playpen.
        "Hey, what did you think about the Supreme Court decision on the Boy Scouts," Matt asked as he chewed steak.
        "Well, I wasn't too happy about it.  Have you talked to Dad about why he voted with the majority in that case?  I think it was one of those 5 to 4 votes."
        "No.  I'd like to, but he's pretty reticent sometimes about discussing the Court's decisions."
        "What did you think about it?"
        "I thought they made the right decision," Matt said.
        "I'm surprised," Mike said.
        "It was a tough case.  It seems to me that you had two important constitutional principles colliding:  the right of a protected class in New Jersey, namely gays, to be accommodated with membership in a voluntary organization, over against the right of free association implicit in our federal Constitution.  The Court essentially said that the right of free association is paramount.  You can't make Americans, outside of certain employment situations where someone's livelihood is at stake, associate with people they don't want to be around, no matter how ill informed and ill advised their personal judgments may be.  When it comes to gay rights, the decision actually works in our favor, too.  It means we also have the right to associate with those we want to be around, and don't have to be around those we don't want to be around.  Pretty basic.
        "I just wish the case had never gone to court in the first place" Matt continued.  "I feel bad for the guy who brought the suit--he sounds like an exemplary person, and he was wronged.  But it's the Boy Scouts' loss, practically speaking, if they don't want to train kids for life in the real world today.  This is a diverse country.  'We're here, and we're queer!'  The Scouts may have won the battle, but they lost the war, because I think their support is going to erode from here on out as a result of their position."
        Mike sat back on the couch, deep in thought.
        "I hadn't thought about it in those terms, to be honest," he said.  "I hate to say it, but you're probably right.  And so was Dad, which doesn't really surprise me."
        "Have you talked to Mom and Dad lately?" Matt asked.
        "No, it's been a couple of weeks."
        "Why don't we call them tonight?"
        "Sounds good. . ."
        Mike was interrupted by his namesake, who was holding up his arms in the playpen, yelling, "Potty, potty, potty!"  Matthew soon echoed his sentiments, addressing his supplication to "Unk Mike."
        Matt smiled broadly.  "Annoying, huh?  But not as annoying as changing diapers all the time, take it from one who knows.  But this better not be a trick to get out of jail."
        The brothers each picked up a boy and took him to the bathroom, praising them effusively all the way for signaling they had to go.
        That duty done, they brought the boys back and put them down on the rug.  Matthew and Michael immediately stood up and began toddling around, their balance seeming to improve by the minute.
        Mike watched them, and then looked at Matt.
        "I love 'em.  I could kiss their little faces off.  But you knew I would."
        "Yeah, I knew.  I admit it."
        Mike stood, and began to collect dishes and silverware from the TV tables to load the dishwasher.
        "What do you want for dessert?" he asked Matt.
        "Ice cream and cookies?" Matt said inquiringly.
        "You got it."
        Matt proudly observed his sons walking around, loving them as they rejoiced in their newfound mobility.  Mike came back from the kitchen with a package of Pecan Sandies and two bowls of vanilla ice cream and sat down.  The boys were all over them in an instant.  Matt limited the kids to two small spoonfuls of ice cream each and put them back in their playpen.  They briefly shrilled their displeasure, then turned their attention to the toys Matt had put in the playpen with them.
        "Why don't we watch Keanu?" Mike asked.
        "Cool."
        Mike retrieved "The Matrix" from its box on the table, slipped it into the VCR, and he and Matt let the wizardry of the story and the special effects weave their spell.  Mike laid down on the couch, face to the TV, and put his shoeless feet in Matt's lap.  Matt began squeezing and massaging his brother's feet through his sweatsocks as they intently watched the film action.
        "You can see the guy's hot, even if the long coats and stuff don't show off his bod," Matt observed.
        "Yep."
        Except to exclaim about some of the action scenes, they hardly talked until the movie was over.
        By then it was early evening, the sun was setting, and it was time to give the boys a bath and put them to bed.  Mike filled the tub with warm water while Matt undressed them and put them gently in the tub.  Mike washed one and Matt the other.  Matthew and Michael loved bath time, and splashed each other and Matt and Mike until they were sopping wet and the entire bathroom floor was full of water.
        "Swimmers in the making," Mike commented as they were drying the kids off and putting fresh diapers on them.
        "Wimps in the making?  I don't think so!  When they really mature, they'll be wrestlers," Matt countered.
        "They're gonna be too smart to be wrestlers," Mike shot back.
        "When they understand that 'Wrestlers Rule,' they'll choose the right path.  I can't wait until they're big enough to start pinning your cute little behind to the mat."
        "Shoot!  They won't have any more luck than you ever did, and that was damn little.  I was always too fast for your fat butt to catch, and you know it."
        "That was just because I was kind to you, and let you think you had escaped.  I couldda had you, and you know it."
        "You had me, if I recall correctly, but not as a result of your great wrestling talent," Mike said.  "It must have been your charm."
        Matt's face reddened for a second and he grinned.
        "Well, that's another matter,' he said.
        Mike laughed as they finished with the boys, and carried them in their PJ's back to the den for their story before bed.  Matt gave Mike the kids' favorite storybook, and Mike sat on the couch with a little guy in the crook of each arm as he read to them.  Matthew and Michael knew that particular story so well that they sometimes said the words before Mike spoke them.  By the time he finished the short little book, the boys' eyes were sleepy, and he and Matt carried them to their cribs and put them down, complete with lots of kisses.  The boys giggled, and then were out like a light.
        "Kids smell great after a bath, don't they?" Mike observed as they went back to the den.
        "Yeah.  Just like their dad."
        Mike groaned.
        They called their parents in Washington.  Jane Broman hadn't left for home yet after spending the weekend, and they all had a great talk.  The elder Bromans' relief that the breach between Matt and Mike appeared to be healed was almost palpable over the phone, although not a word was said about it.  The guys told their parents how much they missed them, and it was true.  Then Matt and Mike tried to call Jeff and Martha, but got no answer at the apartment at school.  So Mike got on the phone to Sisters Angeline and Catherine, Stan Rosinski, and Tony Angelo about coming to dinner on Wednesday night.  All accepted, although Tony told them that his wife was in Oregon taking care of her mother, who had recently fallen and broken her hip.  Then he called Arnie, who wasn't home, so he left a voicemail about Friday night.
                                                      *  *  *
        Mike woke up early, as usual, looked over at the recliner, and was a little disappointed.  No Matt this morning.  They had slept separately again.  As he rolled over, he bumped into something.  Turning his head, there was Matt in his jockies next to him in bed, sound asleep on his stomach, lying on top of the covers.  Breakers jumped off the foot of the bed, stretched, and walked away.
        Adjusting his usual morning erection and moving very slowly, Mike eased out of bed and used the bathroom.  When he came back, Matt was still sleeping.  Mike slipped under the covers, and touched Matt's shoulder.  His eyes popped open, and he smiled into Mike's blue eyes.  Matt's jockies were tented bigtime.
        "Morning," Matt said quietly.
        "Morning.  How long have you been here?" Mike asked.
        "Awhile."
        "You must be cold.  Get under the covers," Mike instructed.
        " 'K.  Let me use the john first.  'I'll be bock,'" Matt said in his Arnold Swartzenegger voice.
        He returned.  Mike flipped back the covers for him, and Matt climbed in bed and kissed Mike's cheek.
        "You're freezing," Mike said, enveloping him in a hug.
        "You're gonna make me hard, bro," Matt warned.  "Then I'll hafta take advantage of ya."
        "Yeah," Mike said, loosening his grip.
        They were silent for several minutes.  Then Mike turned back to his brother.
        "Matt. . ."
        "Yes?"
        "I think I need to be as open and honest with you as you've been with me."
        "Oh, man," Matt said.  "Don't. ."
        "I'm totally in love with you," Mike blurted out.  "That hasn't changed since the day we met, no matter how hard I've tried to kill it.  I love you so much, my chest hurts.  I get a lump in my throat just looking at you.  And I love the twins to death."
        Matt let go of his pent-up breath.
        "I was afraid you were going to say something else and kick my ass out," he said.  "There's a problem, though?"
        "Yeah.  My problem, not yours.  I'm having one hell of a time letting go of feeling hurt.  I'm not saying this to heap more guilt on you, but you broke my fucking heart, man.  I was so depressed that I didn't even jack off for a year after we broke up, let alone have sex with anybody.  Wet dream city.  If it hadn't been for running on the beach and school, I don't think I would have made it.  The pain's been something I've lived with for so long now that I don't know how to live without it.  It's like an old ogre that sits on my shoulder all the time and whispers negative shit in my ear.  I'm not sure I know how to be really happy anymore.  My mind forgives you for what's happened, but the little voice keeps telling me not to make myself vulnerable again."
        Matt said nothing, but moved closer and put his head next to Mike's until they were touching on the pillow.
        "Help me, bro," Mike said softly.  "I don't know what to do or how to do it, really.  But I do love you, and I want to be with you and the kids."
        Matt remained quiet, but pulled Mike over close to him and held him tightly in his arms.  They kissed gently.
        A minute later, a clatter arose from the next bedroom as one of the boys began vigorously shaking the side of his crib and crying.
        Matt sighed and then laughed.
        "How the hell do they know?  What timing!"  They reluctantly climbed out of bed and went together to see to their small charges.
        After they fed the boys and ate breakfast themselves, Mike suggested that they take a field trip down to the Museum of Natural History.  Matt agreed.  They planted the boys in their playpen in the den, and went to shower.  Mike was walking down the hall to shower in his own bathroom, when Matt's hand reached out as he went by and pulled him into one of the guest bathrooms.  Mike just smiled contentedly and allowed himself to be stripped of his boxers and pulled into the shower with Matt.  They washed each other's body as only two people in love can, exploring every curve, plane and crevice.  Matt bent down at one point and kissed the end of Mike's dick, but they didn't go any farther.  They each stepped out of the shower with stiffies, toweled each other off gently, and Mike went to his room to get dressed.
        "I love you, Mike," Matt said to his retreating, naked back.
        Mike smiled to himself and continued walking.  "Love you, too, bro."
        They dressed, and met in the den to decide how to dress the twins for their outing.
        Mike was wearing a U2 T-shirt with baggy carpenter's pants and work boots, which drew a second look from Matt.
        "Stylish, dude!" he told Mike.  "But those pants hide your cute butt a little too much for my taste."
        "We all hafta make sacrifices," Mike said, bending down to put a pair of bright red pants on Michael.
        "Doesn't matter, I know where it is," Matt said, giving Mike's ass a good, hard pinch.
        Mike jumped, scaring Michael, who started whimpering.
        "Jeez, Matt, now see what you did."  Mike gave his brother a dirty look.
        "I'm sorry, both you Mikes.  But that felt so good!"
        "Nice guy!" Mike picked Michael up, and held him and kissed him until he quit fussing.
        They finished dressing the kids, and putting each twin in a stroller, went down to the garage.  Soon they were on their way south along the lakefront on Lakeshore Drive in the Blazer.  It was a magnificent day, a little cool, but sunny, and the buildings along the lake glistened in the sun.
        "Spectacular!" observed Matt as they drove.
        "Yeah," Mike agreed.  "I never get tired of it."
        When they reached the curve in the Drive where the guys had taken their unplanned swim their first night in town, Mike pointed at it silently.  Matt nodded in satisfaction, remembering the family they had saved from drowning in their submerged car.
        When they reached the Museum, the parking lot was just starting to fill.  They parked and disembarked, the twins happy to be out of the confining car seats.
        They wheeled the strollers with one hand and walked the boys with the other toward the Museum for a little way, and then put the boys in the strollers and went in the magnificent front entrance of the building.  Matt paid for all of them, and they began their tour.  The twins appeared awestruck at the sweeping vista of the entrance hall, dominated by a huge dinosaur, but after that it was business as usual for them.
        Matt and Mike wandered somewhat aimlessly through the immense complex, stopping once to take the twins to the bathroom and buying some bottled water, which they shared with the boys.
        "Did you know," Mike asked Matt, "that humans share about 99% of our genomic makeup with chimpanzees?"
        "Some more than others," Matt said mischievously.
        "Oh, man!" Mike said under his breath.
        They continued walking around and chatting until lunchtime, with the boys alternating between sleeping and jabbering to each other and to their chauffeurs.  Then they went in the cafeteria, Matt wheeling both boys to an empty table and Mike going through the line getting him and his brother hamburgers and fries, and more bottled water.  Matt grabbed a couple of child seats, and soon the boys were helping themselves to a few fries and water.
        "Don't give 'em too many fries," Matt said.  "I don't want 'em to get sick."
        " 'K.  This isn't the best thing for 'em."
        Matt sighed.  "I know."
        When they were finished, they walked around about another hour, with the twins sound asleep in their strollers.  Mike suggested they go back to the condo so that they could each get in a run on the beach before it cooled off too much.
        "I marvel at your grasp of the appropriate!" Matt said.
        "Bro, you're so full of crap your eyes are brown.  You're gonna make an excellent lawyer."
        "Do you love me?"
        "Yes."
        "Say it!"
        "I loathe you."
        Matt broke up, and on that note, they wheeled the twins out of the museum and headed for home.
                                                      *  *  *
        After they had each had their run on the beach and showered, Matt and Mike passed the rest of the afternoon verbally jousting with each other and playing with the boys, who were steadier on their feet and more mobile with each passing hour.  It felt like old times, even with the kids.
        Mike put a British group called Coldplay on the stereo, and they mellowed out to some tunes while Mike got on the phone with one of Chicago's premier restaurants and set up the catering and service for their party on Wednesday night.
        At supper time, while Mike fed the boys and then read some of their favorite stories to them, Matt defrosted some fish and sautéed it, and made a tangy German potato salad and a small lettuce and tomato salad.
        Mike was impressed.
        "You're still a heck of a chef, dude. Maybe lawyering shouldn't be your thing," he said as he and Matt ate hungrily.  Breakers watched intently as every bite disappeared.   Bending down from his seat on the couch, Mike gave the dog a piece of fish, which was wolfed down quickly.
        "Time will tell," Matt said. "If Breakers keels over tonight, obviously something went wrong in the kitchen."
        "Then you'll have to give him mouth to muzzle resuscitation."
        "You'll hafta show me how," Matt said.  "You have a very talented mouth, as I recall."
        "I only know the techniques you taught me," Mike responded.  "That pretty much includes every scuzzy sex trick in the book, I might add."
        "You are such a brat!" Matt said.  "I'll put a wrestling hold on you that'll make you beg for mercy.  It's long overdue."
        "As always, lardbutt, you'll hafta catch me first, and that's never been your strong suit."
        "All right, that's it, it's joke time!  And when you're weak from laughter, you're gonna get the grapevine again.  One of your favorite holds, judging from your screams of pain years back."
        "I said that being a chef might be your thing, not comedian.  No stories!" Mike instructed.  "You'll warp the kids, you perv."
        "No, no.  Now, let's see, I'm sure I have something in my repertory for ya, bro.  Oh, yeah. . .
        "When she heard that her elderly grandfather had passed away,  a young college girl went back to her hometown to visit her  grandmother. When she asked how her grandpa had died, her grandma  explained, 'He had a heart attack during sex on Sunday morning.'
        "Horrified, the girl suggested that having sex at the age of 94 was surely asking for trouble.
        "'Oh no," her grandma replied, 'we had sex every Sunday morning.  We did  it in time with the church bells, in with the dings and out with the dongs.'
        "Grandma paused, and wiped away a tear.
        "'He'd still be alive today if that damn ice cream truck hadn't gone by just  as the church bells were ringing.'"    
        Mike groaned, and suddenly grabbed Matt, pushed him down on the couch, and held him there, face to face.
        "That's the worst story you've ever told, and that's saying a lot." Mike said.  "If the boys had heard you, they'd be crying in shame for their dad right now."
        "Does this mean you liked it?" Matt asked, laughing at his brother's reaction.  "I have more, y'know."
        Clasping Mike to him tightly, Matt planted a long, slow, tender kiss on his lips.
        Mike kissed back, and they lay there for a moment looking into one another's eyes.  Then they started to get hard, and unclinched and sat back up on the couch.  The boys toddled over and looked at them curiously.
        "Your daddy just told a bad joke," Mike said to them, a little out of breath from the encounter.  "I don't ever want to hear a joke outta you guys," he said with mock seriousness.  "Say, 'I promise, Uncle Mike.'"
        "I pwomise, Unk Mike," Michael said, much to Mike's delight.  Matthew followed his brother's example, and they each repeated it several times, not having a clue what they were saying.
        Mike gloated.
        Matt pretended to pout, muttering "Traitorous brats!" softly under his breath.
        They bathed and put the boys to bed a little earlier than usual that evening, and spent time watching TV, playing a couple games of chess, and talking.  Mike really opened up for the first time and described the grind of medical school and what his life had been like in Chicago, and it was as if a dam had burst.  He realized what a great feeling it was to be with someone with whom there were no barriers, no secrets, no defenses.  How many people, he thought to himself at one point, are lucky enough to have that kind of relationship with anyone in their life?
        After the local TV news was over, Mike took Breakers downstairs for his nightly walk, and Matt checked on the twins, stripped to his jockeys, and got into his bed to say his prayers.
        Mike came back upstairs, and went into his own bedroom with the dog.  Matt heard Mike's door shut, and then about 10 minutes later, open again.  Mike came into Matt's room in his boxers.  In the dim light from the hall, he walked over to Matt's bed, took his hand, and mutely motioned with his head for Matt to follow him.  They went into Mike's room and stood beside the bed.  Mike lowered his head and gently kissed Matt's chest.
        "Are you sure?" Matt asked softly.
        "Yes."
        They stripped each other of their shorts and climbed into bed.  Not touching, they lay on their sides facing one another in the low light of the bedside table, just staring into one another's eyes.
        "If I died right now and I never saw you or touched you again, I'd thank God for this minute in time, Mike."  Matt reached over and touched Mike's face, and caressed his hair back from his forehead.
        "Listen, I've done everything and used every trick in the book not to love you, Matt, including trying to hate you, but nothing works," Mike responded. "Maybe I'm just weak, I don't know.  But despite everything that's happened, the one thing I've never doubted about you is that you're a good person even though you hurt me.  I loved everything about you when we were teenagers, and that hasn't changed.  To me, you're the total package.  As far as the twins go, I'm not just enamored of them, I love them and want to commit to them.  So. . . how many people get second chances like this, assuming you're serious about wanting to be together again?"
        Matt was totally blown away, and couldn't talk at first.
        Finally he said solemnly, "You've just put the joy back in my life, Mike.  No one or no thing or no accomplishment in my life has ever made me feel the way you do.  No one has ever given me the pure joy and energy you do just being around you.  I'm the weak one.  But you make me happy.  That's the bottom line.  You don't know how I've been praying that we could get back together.  I love you."
        "I love you, Matt, completely.  I want you so bad."
        Mike put his hand on Matt's chest as it rose and fell, and felt his heart beating, and pulled him close.  Cupping Matt's groin, he found that his brother already had a giant erection, and stroked his dick a couple of times.
        Matt's breath made a whooshing sound as he exhaled.
        "Easy does it, dude," he said.  "I'm so horny that if you stroke me one more time, I'm gonna cum in your hand."
        "I'm almost there, too," Mike said.  "So much for foreplay, huh?"
        "I want to do everything, but let's sixty-nine first," Matt whispered urgently.  "I want your dick in my mouth right now."
        " 'K," Mike said, and moved into position, still on his side, feeling Matt take him in.  He gently took Matt's cock in his own mouth, already tasting his sweet precum, and then smoothly swallowed the whole thing right down to his brother's pubes.  Withdrawing to Matt's cockhead, he just held it in his mouth, quiescent, motionless except for his tongue circling the corona.  That was all it took.  Breathing hard, Matt began to ejaculate thick ropes of cum, coursing over Mike's tongue and crashing into the back of his throat.  That put Mike over the edge himself, and he followed suit.
        They both swallowed as fast as they could, to no avail.  Sperm began to run down the sides of their faces as they continued ejaculating until, at long last, they were spent.  Neither of them released the other's dick from his mouth for a long time, just content to taste, smell, feel, savor the experience so long denied.
        Mike eventually realigned himself until they were face to face, Mike on top, and they kissed passionately, tasting one another's essence.  Mike licked Matt's face clean, and Matt reciprocated.  Bathed in sweat from the intensity of their coupling, they held each other in a coma-like state and dozed.
        About 15 minutes later, Matt awakened and moved, waking Mike.  They kissed again, their tongues thrusting and massaging for a long time.
        "Matt."
        "Yeah?"
        "Telling you I love you doesn't seem enough."
        "I know."
        They both began getting hard again.
        "Fuck me, bro," Mike said in Matt's ear.
        " 'K," Matt said.  "You don't hafta ask twice.  You got lube?"
        "I'll get some, if I can find it."  Mike climbed off Matt, and went over to his dresser, his dick fully erect again and swaying tightly up against his stomach.  He pulled some KY out of a drawer.
        "And a rubber if you want me to use one," Matt added.
        "Do we need one?  You tell me."
        "I haven't been with anyone since Sarah.  You?"
        "Nope.  Since you, it's just been me and my constant companion," Mike said, holding up his right hand.
        Mike came back to bed, lay on his back, and handed the lube to Matt.
        Matt began licking his lover's body, probing his ears and navel, biting the nipples of that beautiful chest, and finally raising Mike's legs and giving him a lengthy, vigorous and intrusive rimming, accompanied by Mike's sighs of approval.
        Then Matt opened the tube of KY and squeezed some jell on his three middle fingers.  Watching Mike's face for any signs of discomfort, he found Mike pucker again, caressed it lightly with the lube, and gently worked his middle finger past the sphincter.  Moving farther up his chute, he couldn't resist probing Mike's prostate, and Mike's eyes widened at the stimulus.
        When Mike's anus loosened with the one finger, Matt added the index finger, carefully widening and probing as he proceeded.
        As soon as Mike appeared comfortable with all three fingers inserted, Matt withdrew them.  Massaging KY on his cock, Matt put Mike's legs on his shoulders and probed his anus with his dick until it popped in.
        "Take it easy.  It's been a long time," Mike admonished, panting a little.
        "Just say the word, and I'll stop," Matt said.  He paused, motionless, just inside the threshold until Mike seemed more relaxed, and then moved up and in with tiny thrusts, Mike occasionally stopping him to adjust to the stretching.  When his dick was completely buried to the hilt inside his brother, Matt leaned down, and licking his way up Mike's abdomen, nibbled his nipples again. They kissed long and passionately before Matt began thrusting in earnest.
        Matt long-dicked him, almost withdrawing with each thrust, and then plunging back home, making sure he hit the prostate each time on the way back in.  Mike's penis began to dribble precum on his stomach.  Matt scooped some up and put it to his lips.  It tasted as sweet as he remembered.
        Mike looked up at the beautiful man lying on top of him, pleasuring him at last as he had been longing for.  He began relaxing his rectum as Matt thrust, and squeezing as hard as he could as he withdrew.  As their prolonged session continued, their sweat commingled, with Matt rubbing Mike's dick with his perspiring chest and stomach with each new invasion of his brother's ass.  The pace gradually quickened.  Matt began to groan as he built to an inevitable climax, which occurred simultaneously with Mike's own.  As Mike felt Matt's cum gush into his insides, his own ejaculation pelted his face and tapered off down his chest with each successive shot.
        Not ready to withdraw, Matt draped himself full length on Mike and laid his head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck.  They were quickly glued together by Mike's cum.  Totally relaxed, entwined, they fell asleep in that position.
        When Matt woke up, still on top of Mike, the digital clock on the bedside table said 5:00 in big, red numerals.  He raised himself a little to break the bond of dried semen with his brother, and slid to Mike's side, trying not to wake him.  But Mike's blue eyes opened slowly as he shuddered and stretched.  He regarded Matt with a growing smile.
        "Am I imagining things, or was that better than ever?" he whispered.  "I didn't think that was possible."
        "You're not wrong, bud.  A lot depends on your partner, of course," Matt agreed, grinning back.  "Those who think it's all downhill from age 19 need a reality check."
        Matt took Mike's closest hand in his, and bringing it to his lips, kissed it.
        "I love you with all my heart, Mike," he said, caressing his brother's face.
        Mike looked at him, saying nothing, and then crawled out of bed, pulling Matt with him.  Holding Matt's hand, Mike led his brother down the hall to the den, both of them as beautifully naked and unselfconscious as jaybirds.  Taking him into a corner where a crucifix was hanging, Mike found a small votive candle in one of the drawers, lighted it, and dropped it into its holder under the cross.
        They stood hand in hand, and prayed together silently.
        "You taught me that, dude," Mike said when they finished.

Part 2

        For some inexplicable reason, the twins were sleeping a little later than usual.  Matt and Mike had returned to bed and sleep after their sojourn down the hall to the den at 5 a.m. to light a candle.
        Matt awakened first, and without moving looked over at Mike.  He unconsciously moistened his lips as he thought about the ways the two of them had pleasured each other the previous night.  The urgency of sexual desire having been well quenched, now Matt's eye was on Mike for the sheer beauty of his form.
        Matt's glance caressed his partner at rest.  He wanted in all innocence to put his hand on that beautiful chest, uncovered to the waist, but restrained himself.  He didn't want to wake him and then lose sight of him for even a moment as he inevitably rose and went about the day's tasks.
        Mike's big hands rested on top of the sheet, his square, masculine fingers slightly splayed in repose.  His face was lightly peppered with morning stubble; it had changed little over the years he and Matt had been apart.  It was a little more mature, perhaps, but still exceptionally handsome and youthful and healthy looking.  A few dark blond hairs from Mike's longish brush cut lay down on his forehead, but Matt resisted the temptation to smooth them back.
        Have I ever been this happy, Matt asked himself.  He could count those times on the fingers of one hand, and except for the birth of the twins, all of them had principally involved Mike.  It doesn't get better than this, his inner voice told him.  Enjoy it!  Glory in it!
        "Hey," Mike said softly, breaking into Matt's reverie.
        Saying nothing, Matt took Mike's closest hand and brought it over to his own chest and held it there.
        "Good heart beat, bud," Mike said after a minute.  "I don't even need a stethoscope."
        "Any clue how happy you make me, Mike?"
        "Yep."  Mike took his hand back and turned on his side toward his lover, resting his head and now the other hand on Matt.  He stroked Matt's chest gently.
        "I want to do something really nice for you, Mike," Matt said.  "No, something great for you.  I just don't know what."
        "You can mark that off your list, bro."
        "Whaddaya mean?" Matt asked.
        "Well, thanks to you, we've started working through a shitload of hurt feelings and confusion and mistrust and stubbornness, mostly mine, and ended up where we should be.  Right here, right now.  You're a badass jock, bro, and you don't give up.  You keep pushing the envelope until reality is what you want it to be.  Thank God for that.  I'm a lucky man!"
        "I'm no hero, Mike.  It was up to me to try to make things right.  I'm the one who's been blessed."
        "Don't argue with me, or I'll hafta hurt ya."  Mike kissed his partner slowly, gently, his lips lingering on Matt's.
        The sound of a crib being vigorously shaken in the next bedroom cut their exchange short.  They unclenched, stretched, groaned, and crawled out of bed to tend to the boys.  The twins stopped their noise-making when Matt and Mike entered their room, and held up their arms to be picked up.  Then it was off to the bathroom for morning ablutions.
        After the boys were cleaned up and fed, Mike put them in their play pen, and he and Matt showered together.  They washed one another, and then clung together under the warm spray.
        Playfully pinching Mike's ass, Matt mimicked Dean Martin and crooned, "When you swim in a creek, and an eel bites your cheek, that's a moray."  Mike just rolled his eyes.
        Emerging from the shower at last, they dried off, dressed and joined the twins in the den while they had their own breakfast of coffee, juice and toast.  Mike took Breakers downstairs for his morning walk, and when he returned the boys were reconnoitering the den yet again.  They made a beeline for the dog, and the three of them rolled around on the floor.
        "Breakers is really good with the boys," Matt commented, looking up from the morning newspaper.
        "Yeah," Mike agreed.  "Goldens have a reputation for getting along with kids."
        They laughed as they watched the boys torment the dog, who tormented them back by holding them down with his big front paws and licking their faces until they squealed and rolled away.  The kids were persistent, but the dog was quick, so it was generally a draw.
        "Listen, what do we need to do to get ready for tonight?" Matt asked, folding up the paper.
        "Well, I guess I'll hafta try something unprecedented, and run the vacuum cleaner.  And we'll need to dust the furniture, I s'pose.  And we prolly should set the table in the dining room."
        "The dining room?  Where is it?  I haven't seen it."
        "C'mon," Mike said.  Leaving the kids with Breakers for a few minutes, they went through the living room and turned left.  Behind double doors was a sizable room with a table that would comfortably seat about 12 people, maybe 16 in a pinch.  One wall was floor to ceiling windows like those in the living room, covered by sheers with drapes tied off at each side, facing the north side of the city.  A small, crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, and a breakfront with glass doors displayed a nice dinner service.  A 6 foot long buffet table sat to one side, next to a door that opened into the kitchen.
        The furniture was covered with a layer of dust, and Matt drew a big heart with an arrow through it and his and Mike's initials on the table top.
        "Mom and Martha sure did a nice job furnishing the room, doncha think?"  Mike asked. "But y'know, I've never eaten a meal in here."
        "Beautiful room, Mike.  It's perfect," Matt said.
        Matt had an epiphany.  Seeing the dusty table, and hearing Mike say that he had never once used the dining room since he moved in, brought home to him in a new way--to his gut now and not just his intellect--how alone, how isolated Mike must have been over the past three years.  The personal cost to Mike of their breakup knifed through him yet again, as he felt deep inside how devastated his brother must have been.  Matt's sorrow had been real enough before, but from that moment on it had new emotional dimensions.
        He tucked his painful new awareness away for later consideration when he was back at school and alone with his thoughts.  He didn't want to bring Mike down by reprising the whole matter yet again at that point.
        Breakers came bounding into the dining room, and when Matt and Mike looked out into the living room, the boys were toddling after him as fast as their short, chunky little legs could carry them.  Breakers ran back into the living room and headed for the den, dodging around the boys.  The twins immediately reversed course and were hot on his trail.  Matt and Mike laughed and followed the pack back to the den.
        "I'm loving this, Matt," Mike said, throwing an arm around his brother's neck as they walked.
        Matt gave him a big grin.
        They sat back down on the couch in the den and finished their coffee, and then put the twins in the playpen so they could start cleaning the condo.  The boys complained loudly for a minute, but Matt turned on the TV and found some cartoons, diverting them for the time being.
        Mike gave Matt some soft cloths and some furniture polish from the closet.
        "Go forth and rub," he said.
        "That reminds me of a story," Matt responded.
        "Why do you torture me like this?" Mike asked for perhaps the hundredth time.
        "I don't know," Matt said, wagging his head from side to side.  "'Cause it's my job, I guess.  It's not an easy job.  It's not the hardest job in the world, either.  Do I hate it?  No.  It may even give me some small--very small-- pleasure now and then.  It doesn't pay anything, of course.  But it is my job.  Haven't I explained this before?"
        "You love the sound of your own voice, doncha?"
        "Well, yes.  What's not to love?  It's deep, it has good timbre and range, and it has a lilt to it when I sing.  Now that I think about it, I need to be singing to you and the boys more often."
        "Between storytelling and singing, you're gonna warp these kids."
        "Not!" Matt said.  "Anyway...
        "One day when the teacher walked to the black board,  she noticed someone had written the word 'penis' in  tiny little letters.  She turned around and scanned the class  looking for the guilty face.  Finding none, she erased from  the board real fast, and began her class.
        "The next day she went into the room, and she saw, in  larger letters, the word 'penis' again on the black board.  Again, she looked around in vain for the offender, but  found no guilty face, so she erased it and proceeded with the  day's lesson.
        "Every morning, for about a week, she went into the classroom  and found the same suggestive word written on the board,  each day's word larger than it had been the day before--  'penis'--and no guilty party.
        "Finally, one day, she walked in, expecting to be greeted by  'penis' on the board in truly giant letters, but instead found the  words:......'The more you rub it, the bigger it gets!'"
        The pleased expression on Matt's face was funnier than the story, and Mike had to laugh.
        "Get to work," he ordered.
        "This thing's in mint condition," Mike said to himself, taking the vacuum cleaner out of the closet, plugging it in and switching it on.  Matt said something, but Mike just gave him a big smile and signaled he couldn't hear him, and started sweeping.
        An hour later, things around the condo were on their way to looking better.  They met back in the den.
        "You wanna clean up the guest bathrooms while I do the kitchen?" Mike asked Matt.
        "Hey, dude, I know how to play this game.  When you get a suggestion from your 'significant other,' tell yourself you're really in charge, but say, 'Yes, dear,' and do what you're told.  I'm whipped, y'know.  In the final analysis, we subs are just the sex slaves of our dominant partners."
        Mike parodied being pumped up, scrunching up his face and posing in a crab.
        "That's cute," Matt said.  "You look like an angry Pee-wee Herman on 'roids."
        Mike chased him around the couch a few times to no avail, the boys watching with interest.
        "What are you on today, anyway?" Mike asked.  "You're outta control."
        "High on life, dude!  Had my Mikey fix, feelin' fine!"
        Matt came around the couch, engulfing Mike in a big hug during which he took the opportunity to grab and squeeze his brother's ass lasciviously, and then headed for the bathrooms muttering, "Sex slave, sex slave.  Yeah, baby!"
        "You're totally bent, man," Mike said, setting out for the kitchen.
        By 1 p.m., the condo looked perfect, and the good plates and serving dishes had been run through the dishwasher to make sure they were clean and shiny.  A new white table cloth graced the dining room table, set now with two small silver candelabra and the good silverware.
        Matt and Mike called a halt to their labors and fed the boys, who promptly fell asleep in the playpen, and then made some soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for themselves.  After they ate, the two of them lay down on the big couch in the den together, and took a little nap.  Afterwards they each planned to get in a run on the beach.
        Stirring around in their playpen, the twins awakened them in about 30 minutes, and Matt sat up on the couch, cradling Mike.
        "I told you this morning I wanted to do something nice for you," Matt said.  "Why don't I start small by giving you a haircut so you'll look nice for tonight?"
        "It's been a long time since you've done that," Mike said slowly.  "Sounds great.  It's gotten a little longer than I like it."
        Leaving the twins in their playpen, they went down the hall to Mike's room.  Matt took Mike's computer chair and wheeled it into his bathroom, and covered it with a bath towel.  Then he pulled Mike's T off his body, admiring his torso, and sat him down.
        "Where are the implements of destruction?" Matt asked.  "Heh heh."
        "That drawer," Mike said, pointing.
        " 'K."
        Matt removed a comb and electric clippers from the hair care kit he found there, plugged in the clippers, and ran his hand through Mike's dark blond hair.
        "Great hair, Mikey," Matt said.  "I've always liked it.  How do you want it?"
        "Just a standard brush cut will do.  On the short side, though."
        "You got it."
        Putting a hand towel around Mike's neck and leveling his brother's head, Matt began to run the clippers from front to back as hair tumbled on to the towel and Mike's lap and fell to the floor.  Stopping periodically to check from the side and in the bathroom mirror, in a few minutes the top was just a little longer than a flattop would have been.  Changing blades, Matt began on the sides, making sure there was a good taper from the top to the hairline.  After cleaning up Mike's neckline, Matt put the comb and clippers away and moistened a wash cloth with hot water.  He ran the damp cloth over Mike's neck, shoulders and chest to remove any loose hair.  Then he dried him off, kissing and nuzzled his neck in the process.
        "Son, you do good work!" Mike said as he stood and studied his image in the mirror from several angles.  "Maybe barbering is really your thing, you think?"
        "Where's my tip?"
        Mike put his arms around Matt from the back and caressed his brother's crotch.
        "It's right here, I think.  Why, did you think it was missing?"
        "I'll give you about two hours to stop that!  And I mean it!"
        They laughed and looked at each other in the mirror.
        "Mike, why don't we put the kids and the strollers in the Blazer and head down to the park for a run?  The paths there are nice and smooth if I remember right, and we can run together today if we push the strollers instead of going separately."
        "Good thought," Mike said.  "I wanna run your little mesomorph, jockboy butt into the ground."
        And they went, and he almost did.                                               *  *  *
        Mike's plans for the dinner party were ambitious.  The caterers and their manager arrived about 5 p.m., with the waiters arriving about an hour later.  Matt and Mike had opened up the wet bar in the den, and regrouped the furniture in the living room a bit to promote conversation when their guests arrived.
        Tony Angelo--newly minted Captain Tony Angelo--arrived first about 6:15 wearing civvies.  He had been appointed the watch commander of a north side precinct just a month ago.  Matt and Mike extended their congratulations on his promotion, with Mike saying that they knew he was destined for greatness the night they took their swim off Lake Shore Drive.  Fortunately, Tony had the night off, and able to drink, accepted the offer of a nice, tall bourbon and water.  He again expressed regret that his wife was out of town caring for her mother and couldn't join them.  Like the skilled policeman he was, Tony elicited all the pertinent information about Matt's and Mike's lives since they had left Chicago, and expressed his  sorrow over Matt's loss of his wife.  Tony took the twins out of their playpen and held them and talked with them.  He told Matt and Mike that his older son and his wife had recently had their first grandchild, so he needed the practice.
        Sister Angeline and Sister Catherine were next in the door.  They had never met Tony, and made his acquaintance warmly after greeting Matt and Mike.  Matt supposed it wasn't good church etiquette to hug and kiss nuns, but he did it anyway.  Mike had seen the sisters periodically since he had moved back to Chicago, but Matt was struck with how little the two of them seemed to have aged.  Angeline was as energetic as ever.  After some small talk catching up on things, the sisters had their turn with the kids.  The twins took to them like metal filings to a magnets.
        Last in the door were Stan Rosinski and his fiancée', a classy looking blonde named Linda Kosco, from a good Polish family, naturally.  Matt and Mike liked her immediately, and she and Stan seemed to be very comfortable with one another.  In fact, Stan couldn't keep his eyes off her.
        It was a different Stan than Matt remembered from Hospice.  The tough, angry, streetkid facade wasn't completely gone, but was definitely muted by the self assuredness of a young man who had goals and was on his way toward attaining them.  His demeanor was friendly, and he looked everyone squarely in the eye when he said hello.  Matt noticed that although Stan might still be pierced and accessorized under his clothes where it couldn't be seen, he now wore only one earring in his left ear, and of a much smaller size than he used to wear.  He had on a white shirt and tie, a nice sport coat with contrasting trousers, and his shoes were shined.  Matt suspected that Linda, along with the leavening influence of college, had brought about the good changes in Stan he was seeing.
        After everyone had his or her drink of choice served by a bartender in a white jacket, they all went into the living room and talked some more, the sisters still splitting their time between adult conversation and talking to the twins.  The little boys jabbered away.  Matt suddenly realized that what the kids were saying was starting to be intelligible.  He couldn't help thinking that the next thing he knew, they'd be arguing with him over bedtime, and then whether or not they could date midweek.  Just another reminder to make every minute with them count.
        Sister Angeline filled Matt in on how things had changed for the better at the Hospice with the infusion of money the Broman family had made available:  no more worries about bringing the building up to code, and a much stronger medical support program than they could have afforded before.  Stan commented that staff had received raises, too, and turnover had decreased.  Sister Catherine mentioned that AIDS cases among Blacks had been increasing drastically, many of them within  heterosexual relationships, with some of that increase being felt at Hospice.
        Stan shared that he had completed his community college courses, received his associate's degree in health care administration, and had been admitted to Loyola for his last two years. He modestly accepted everyone's congratulations.  Although he didn't mention that his education had largely been made possible by Mike, he kept looking with gratitude in Mike's direction, Matt noted.  Linda revealed that she was also in health care, wanting to go on for her bachelor's degree and become an RN.
        So that Matt could stay to enjoy their guests, Mike collected the boys as the conversation continued, and took them into the den where he fed them some jars of food they especially liked.  Then he gave them a quick bath, and put them down for the night.  No story before bed tonight, but the boys didn't complain.  He returned to the living room where the conversation was still going strong and gave Matt a thumbs-up.
        Before long, one of the waiters interrupted to say that dinner was served, and Mike led their guests into the dining room.  The chandelier had been appropriately dimmed, the candelabra were blazing, and the dinner service shone.
        After everyone was standing at his or her place, Mike at the head of the table and Matt at the foot, they all joined hands and Mike offered thanks for friendship and for the food which they were about to receive.  The men seated the ladies.  Two waiters poured chardonnay into the wine glasses, and served the appetizer:  escargot sautéed in white vermouth, garlic and tomatoes.  It was excellent.
        After the escargot had disappeared rather quickly, the waiters removed the plates and served the soup, a baked onion concoction with a crunchy, carmelized crust around the edges of the bowls. A salad Lyonnaise came next, followed by the entrée of pan roasted pork medallions in a sweet potato purée with cranberry chutney and pork wine sauce.  The wine served was an excellent cabernet sauvignon.
        The wine and good company had loosened tongues, and Tony talked at some length about city and police department politics, and Mike shared some of his medical school experiences, edited for polite company, of course.
        At the conclusion of the delicious and leisurely meal, a dessert of sliced bananas sautéed with dark rum, brown sugar and banana liqueur was served with coffee from freshly ground beans.
        The group finished dessert, and surfeited, rose from the table and went to the living room where they fell into their seats complaining about how they had overeaten, but happy.
        Matt ducked out quickly to check on the boys, and finding them sleeping quietly, rejoined the guests as they regaled Mike with compliments for the meal.  By 9:30, they had had several more cups of coffee, and were on their way out the door with smiles on every face and thanks on every tongue.  The waiter crew finished cleaning up and left shortly thereafter, obviously pleased with the tip Mike gave each one as he left.
        "You're the hostess with the mostest, dude!" Matt told Mike as they settled down close to each other on the couch.  "That was one good supper, I'd have to say!  I would have sung for it, y'know!"
        "Thanks, but no thanks. The meal and everything kinda reminds me of holidays at Mom's and Dad's, huh?" Mike asked.
        "Yeppers.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  Thanks for doing all this, Mike."
        Mike responded by leaning over and kissing Matt on the mouth, slipping him some tongue, and then taking and holding his hand.
        They sat there in comfortable silence for a while, each immersed in his own thoughts.
        "I'm horny, and I wanna see you naked," Mike said out of the blue.  "You can either strip here, or in the bedroom, I don't care.  But do it!"
        Matt laughed, but rose and did as he was told.  Mike's eyes devoured the body emerging before him, totally smooth except for head, armpits and groin.  Matt's muscles rippled sensually beneath his skin as he undressed unselfconsciously.
        "You are so unbelievably fucking hot, I can't stand it," Mike murmured.
        Sitting back down on the couch, his clothes in a heap on the floor, Matt cuddled Mike, cupping his crotch and unzipping his pants.  Taking Mike's cock out of his boxers, he fondled it until it was standing straight out from his body.  By that time Matt's own dick was hard and ready for action.
        After touching one another in all the right places for a few minutes, Matt picked Mike up bodily and carried him down the hall to their bedroom.  He gently undressed him, and after falling into bed, they indulged their wide-ranging fantasies until sleep eventually quelled desire.
                                                     *  *  *
        The telephone rang insistently, finally awakening Matt out of a deep sleep.  He noticed the big red numerals on the bedside clock as he reached across Mike and picked up the receiver.  2:30 a.m.
        It was Martha.  A very distraught Martha.  Matt knew this wouldn't be good news.
        "'Sup, sis?"
        "Matt?  Can you put Mike on the phone with us?"
        "Hold on, Mart."  Matt shook Mike gently, and when his eyes opened, told him that Martha wanted to talk to both of them.  Handing the bedside phone to Mike, he got up, snatched Mike's robe out of his closet and put it on, and hurried to the den.
        " 'K, Martha, I'm on," Matt said, hearing Mike yawning into the other phone.
        "I'm sorry, guys, but I'm in way over my head here.  It's Jeff.  I don't know what to do."
        "What's the matter, Mart?" Mike's calm voice intervened.
        "I was at the library studying late tonight, and when I got home about midnight, I went to Jeff's room to check on him.  He was sitting on his bed, smoking a drug pipe.  It smelled really strange to me.  After I badgered him for awhile, he admitted he was smoking heroin, and then he just lay down like it was nothing unusual and went to sleep.  I checked his arms and I didn't see any needle marks, or anything, but I'm really scared.  I'm sorry I woke you up, but I've been sitting here for hours trying to decide what to do."
        Stunned, the two young men were instantly wide awake.  Matt sat down hard on the couch.  Although he tried to stay in control, he could feel the anger building inside him.
        "Martha, has Jeff been behaving strangely at all?" Mike asked.
        "Well, yeah.  This is weird.  He's been dating this girl with purple hair and a miniature barbell in her nose for about a month.  That wouldn't be Jeff's usual taste in women, I didn't think, but I haven't said anything.  That's about it, although he's seemed kinda stressed out lately."
        "Is he going to class and baseball practice every day?" Mike queried.
        "Yes, as far as I know.  And he always studies hard, and I haven't seen any change there."
        "Damn it, Martha, how could this happen right under your nose!" Matt burst out.  "Haven't you been watching out for him?"
        "Lose the attitude, Matt.  I never suspected that anything like this could happen to a kid like Jeff, and neither did you.  So don't be a jackass and try to blame me!" Martha retorted.
        "Cool your jets, Matt," Mike said.  "This has taken us all by surprise, and blaming Martha isn't gonna help."
        Silence on the phone.
        "You're on vacation," Mike said.  "Why didn't you go home, by the way?"
        "I had two papers to get done, and I didn't want Mom to feel she should stay home with me instead of going to Washington to be with Dad, so I just stayed here."
        "Why didn't Jeff go home?" Mike asked.
        "I think we know why now," Matt said.
        "How long before you guys have finals?" Mike asked.
        "Three weeks of classes and then finals week.  We should be finished in about a month," Martha said.
        " 'K, then, here's my thought," Mike mused.  "You tell Jeff that you've talked to us about the fact he's chipping, and have him call us tomorrow without fail.  If he's really not shooting up, there's no reason why he can't get through classes, finals and the rest of the baseball season in reasonable shape.  I don't want his semester wasted.  Then I want him down here in Chicago.  I'll have him evaluated, and we'll go from there.  Does that sound all right to you both?"
        "Yes," Martha said.
        "Yeah," Matt mumbled, followed by, "I'm sorry I yelled at ya, Mart.  This drug shit just makes me crazy!"
        "I know, Matt.  It's OK."
        "Mike, heroin is no walk in the park.  Are you sure we shouldn't get Jeff in a program right now?" Matt asked.
        "I'd be more worried if it were crack.  With heroin, if he's not shooting up, I seriously doubt that he's physically dependent yet.  Psychologically dependent, maybe, but probably not even that if he's only been chipping for a month, give or take.  So I think we have to monitor him, but let him finish out the year."
        "Mike, is there anything special I should do about Jeff between now and the end of the semester?"
        "Just the usual, Martha.  You hafta take care of yourself and get through the year, too.  Just see that he eats well and sleeps, if you can, but don't feel that you hafta be his keeper.  When we talk to him tomorrow, I'm going to tell him that I want to talk to him on the phone every night between now and the end of school just so he knows we're on to him, and he's accountable," Mike said.  "You did the right thing, calling us, by the way, hon."
        "What about Mom and Dad?" Matt asked.  "Do we call them?"
        "I think we have to," Mike said.  "They have a right to know, and I think we have a responsibility to tell them.  Agreed?"
        "Yes," Matt and Martha said simultaneously.
        "Mart, you tell Jeff that if he doesn't call tomorrow, Matt and I will be down there to talk to him face to face by Friday, 'K?" Mike said.  "And it won't be a pleasant conversation.  After we talk to Jeff, Matt and I'll call Mom and Dad and bring them up to speed."
        Uncharacteristically, Martha started crying.
        "Don't cry, sis," Mike said.  "We'll work through this.  Jeff's gonna be fine."
        "I'm just so relieved to have somebody to talk to about it," Martha said.  "I'm scared for Jeff."
        "Mart, we're a family!" Matt said.  "We've gotten through some tough times together, and that's what's going to happen now.  Don't worry, we're on Jeff's case bigtime."
        "All right," Martha said, snuffling.  "I miss the twins.  How are they, and how are you guys doing?"
        "We're great!" Matt said. "So are the boys.  I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you that Mike and I are working on getting back together, and we want to raise the twins together.  We haven't worked all the logistics out yet, but we will."
        "I'm really happy to hear that," Martha said sincerely.  "Mike, you've sounded so low every time I've talked to you since you guys broke up, and Matt, to be blunt, you weren't all that ecstatic about being married.  I loved Sarah very much, but...I'm thinking this is a good thing."
        "Thanks, hon," Matt said.  "Other than Jeff's problem, how are you?"
        "I'm good.  My courses are all going well, and it looks like I'll be joining you guys on the Dean's list."
        "Outstanding, Martha.  We're really proud of you!" Matt said.
        "Sis, I love you to death," Mike said.  "You can't begin to know what you mean to me."
        "Ditto, Mart!" Matt said.
        "Thanks, guys, love you back.  Talking to you has taken a huge weight off my shoulders.  I'm feeling more hopeful now about Jeff.  I'll make sure he calls you tomorrow.  And sorry to get you up in the middle of the night."
        "No, we're glad you called," Mike said.  "Talk to you soon."
        "Night, hon.  Love ya!" Matt said.
        They hung up.  Matt went over and lit a candle under the crucifix for Jeff, saying a prayer for him.  Then he walked back down the hall, checked on the boys, and continued to his and Mike's room.  He shed the robe and slid back into bed.
        Putting his arms around Mike, he kissed him and let out a big sigh.
        "This bites," he said.
        "Yep," Mike concurred.  "But we're gonna bite back."
        They fell back to sleep in one another's arms without further discussion.
                                                     *  *  *
        The telephone rang about 10:00 the next morning as they were reading the paper in their shorts, drinking coffee and watching the twins play with Breakers.
        Mike answered.
        "Hi, Mike, it's Jeff," the voice said, sounding a little reserved.  "Martha said you wanted to talk to me."
        "Hi, Jeff.  Thanks for calling."
        Mike motioned for Matt to get on another phone.
        "'Sup?" Jeff asked.
        "Don't shit a shitter, Jeff," Mike said quietly.  "You know what's up."
        "I 'spose you mean the smoking incident.  Martha blew that all out of proportion."
        "Really?" Mike said.  "Why don't you give me your version."
        "It was nothing, Mike, really.  I was feeling tense, so I smoked a little H.  It doesn't hurt to indulge once in awhile.  You know that.  You're in med school."
        Matt interrupted.  "If I were there, Jeff, I'd kick your ass!"
        Mike spoke up before Jeff could respond.
        "Matt, tone it down or tune out, dude," he said.  "That's not helping."
        "I can't help it," Matt said to Mike.  "He's such a dumbass, he really pisses me off.  That stuff is poison, and he knows it!"
        "I..." Jeff started to fire back angrily.
        "Matt," Mike cut in, "either listen and be quiet, or get off the fucking phone!  I need to have a conversation with Jeff, 'K?"
        There was a click, and Matt was off the line.  He came back into the den looking dour and sat down with Mike.
        "Jeff, you saved my life once," Mike continued.  "I owe ya bigtime for that, and you know I love ya, and so does Matt, and so does Martha.  I want you to tell me what's going on because we're all pretty bummed right now."
        Jeff surrendered, at least for the moment.
        "I've been chipping for about a month, Mike.  Between classes and baseball, I've been really stressed out lately--it's just seemed as if there's no end in sight.  It's just pressure, pressure and more pressure, and I'm fed up.  So sometimes at night, I'll smoke a little so I can sleep."
        "How much do you smoke?"
        "Just a little, and only a couple times a week at night before bed."
        "Where'd you get it?" Mike asked.
        "Oh, I've been seeing this girl, and getting it from her."
        "Is she a user?"
        "Yeah."
        "Is she shooting?"
        "Yes."
        "Are you shooting?"
        "No, Mike, I swear I'm not."
        "Are you going to all your classes and practices?"
        "Yeah."
        "How are your grades?"
        "They're good.  Unless I really drop the ball, I'll be on the Dean's List again."
        "That's excellent!  You doing all right on the field?"
        "Coach seems pleased, that's all I can tell ya."
        "How much do you know about heroin, Jeff?"
        "Not a lot, except it calms me down so I can do everything I hafta do and not go nuts."
        "Did you know that heroin is a cousin to morphine?"
        "No."
        "Yeah.  An opiate.  Great stuff when somebody's in physical pain.  Terrible stuff when it's used to mask other problems.  Do you have any idea what's causing all the stress in your life?" Mike asked.
        "No, not really. Just trying to get everything done right."
        "Well, eventually you're gonna hafta find out what's causing your pain, bud."
        "Look, Mike, I can stop using this stuff any time I want.  I'm no addict, for God's sake."
        "Maybe, maybe not.  I'm not there with you, so I can't say."
        "Well, take my word for it."
        "Wish I could, bro, but I can't," Mike said.  "So I'm gonna set some guidelines for you between now and the end of school.  First of all, I want you to call me at 10 p.m. sharp, your time, every night.  If I don't hear from you, I'll be on the next plane down there, and you know I mean it.  I'm going to be asking you about your day, and how you're feeling, and how you're making it.  Do you understand?"
        "Yes."
        "Second, lose the girl.  You don't love her, do you?"
        "No."
        "Are you fucking her?"
        "Yes."
        "She's history, Jeff.  She's not good for you, and she has to go.  If she wants to go into a remedial program, I'll help anyway I can.  But if you don't give her up, I swear to God I'll take you out of school."
        "Gimme a break, Mike.  You can't do that."
        "Don't test me, bud.  A word to your coach and to administration about what you're into, and you're history."
        "C'mon, you wouldn't do that!"
        "Oh, yeah, I would!  I care about you too much to watch you self-destruct.  Will you stop seeing her?"
        "Well, son of a bitch!  All right, but this isn't right."
        "It's very right.  Now, let me continue.  I gonna be sending a very calm, very rational, very under-control Matt around to see you at least once a day.  Just to say hello.  'K?"  Mike gave Matt a stern look as he described his requisite demeanor.
        "Why?"
        "'Cause I need him to give me all the good news about how well things are going for you, so when I talk to you on the phone, I'll be feeling really good.
        "Have you been going to mass on Sunday?" Mike continued, already knowing the answer.
        "No."
        "All right, I want you to take 10 minutes out of your busy day, every day, and go to the chapel at Canterbury or the Newman Center and just sit.  I don't care whether you pray, or play tiddlywinks.  I just want you to sit in the silence there for a ten minutes every day.  Will you do that for me?"
        "I guess so."
        "Next. I want you packed and in your truck on the way down here the minute you walk out of your last final.  You'll be spending the summer in Chicago."
        "Well, shit!  What if I have other plans?"
        "Do you?"
        "No," Jeff admitted reluctantly.
        " 'K, my man, you do now.  Is everything I've told you clear?"
        "Yes," Jeff said sullenly.
        "Good.  You have any heroin in the apartment?"
        "Yes."
        "Flush it right now, and come back to the phone."
        "C'mon, Mike..."
        "Do it now, and come back to the phone," Mike said firmly.
        Jeff slammed the phone down on the table, and Mike could hear him go to his bedroom cursing all the way, open and shut a dresser drawer, followed by the sound of a flushing toilet.  Then he was back on the phone.
        "Did you?" Mike asked.
        "Yes."
        "Good.  Now, I know you won't like it, and I'm not gonna enjoy doing it, but I hafta talk to Mom and Dad about this."
        "Please don't do that, Mike.  I don't want them to be disappointed in me," Jeff said.  "I'll do anything you want, just don't tell them.  They'll freak."
        "This isn't punishment, Jeff.  I hope you know better than that.  We're a family, and they need to be up to speed on what's going on.  We need to support each other when we're in trouble."
        There was a sigh on the other end, and then silence.
        "There is nothing--nothing--that I won't do to get you straight," Mike said quietly.  "Do you hear me?"
        "Yes."
        "All right.  I love you, Jeff, and I owe you.  This is no power trip on my part.  Keep that in mind when I piss you off, 'K?"
        "Yeah."
        "OK, I'll be waiting to hear from you at 10 tonight.  You give this a try.  If you don't think you can carry through on the things I've laid out for you, get in touch with me and we'll take another approach, all right?"
        "Yes."
        Matt held out his hand for the phone.
        "Jeff, I'm sorry I yelled atcha.  I love ya, and I want you to leave that shit alone.  Don't be mad at us--at me--for being upset about this situation.  I'll see you next Sunday night when I get back, and I promise I'll be cool."
        "All right, Matt.  I guess I'll talk to you guys tonight."
        The phone went dead, and Matt and Mike looked at each other.
        "You done good, bro!" Matt said.
        "Thanks.  I shouldn't have talked to you that way on the phone, though," Mike said apologetically.  "But sometimes being angry at somebody with a problem just makes it tougher to talk."
        "I know it," Matt admitted sheepishly.
        "I've noticed before that you kinda lose it with Martha and Jeff when they aren't doing what you think they should.  Well, really more Jeff than Martha.  Why do you think that is?"
        "I'm not sure.  I guess it's because Jeff and Martha and I have been given so much in our lives that it bothers me when we screw up.  We shouldn't screw up."
        "Admirable, but unrealistic, bro," Mike said.  "It's human nature to screw up, and you know it.  Being blessed by God doesn't give you immunity from fucking up now and then."
        "I know.  It's just that imperfections are harder to accept when they're close at hand, y'know.  You should understand that because you have so many of them," Matt said with a straight face.
        "You're hilarious.  But really, give a little thought to what's behind your anger, will ya?"
        "Yes."
        They sat there in companionable silence, sipping their coffee, watching the twins.  After a few minutes, Matt looked over at Mike slyly out of the corner of his eye.
        "Do you work for United Parcel Service?" he asked.
        "Oh-oh.  Does this question deserve an answer?  No, I don't work for UPS.  Why?"
        "I thought I saw you checking out my package."
        Mike took Matt's coffee cup away from him and put down his own, and lunged over and lay on top of his partner, pinning him to the couch.
        "You're such an annoying dweeb, sometimes I don't know what to do," Mike said as he leaned down and kissed Matt, enjoying the sensation of heat and skin on skin as their bare chests and stomachs rubbed together.  He gazed deeply into the dusky brown pools of his brother's eyes.
        "I think you know what to do!  Keep it up and it's gonna be real easy to check out my package."
        "Not in front of the children, dear!" Mike said with a laugh as the twins gravitated over to the action on the couch.
        Mike sat back up, tucking his incipient hardon up under the band of his boxers.
        "Why don't we get the kids ready and go to the park for our run a little early?" Matt suggested.  "Today it's my turn to leave you an exhausted, broken hulk along the path.  Don't worry, I'll get the kids back here all right by myself."
        "Dream on, dude, dream on."
        Putting the kids into the playpen temporarily, they went back to their bedroom to put on their jogging clothes and shoes.
        "Don't you want a clean jock, Matt?" Mike asked.  "Seriously, the one I gave you must be ripe enough by now to be on the Center for Disease Control's most wanted list.  Or give you jock itch, anyway."
        "Jock itch will be something to remember you by when I go back to school," Matt responded.  "I don't mind suffering for my memories.  Anyway, all my bodily secretions and odors are under perfect control, as you well know.  This jock is perfect.  It's in better condition than when you gave it to me, in fact."  He punctuated his statement with a exuberant fart.
        "You're disgusting!" Mike said, but he smiled to himself as he bolted from the room.
        They drove to the park and parked the Blazer.   After putting the twins in their strollers and doing their stretching exercises, they hit the path pushing the strollers.
        The day was warmer than it had been earlier in the week, and had brought a lot of college guys on vacation and wanting to exercise out to the park.
        "Wow.  Check it out!" Mike said.
        "Yep," Matt admitted, admiring the three good-looking studs who went around them at a fast pace and continued on their run.  "If I get horny, we may hafta have sex right here and now."
        "You and your right hand, maybe," Mike said, moving out ahead with Matthew in his stroller.
        "Ha!" Matt said, falling in behind Mike, watching his partner's beautiful ass move as the two of them fell into their early running rhythm.
        Ten minutes later, finally starting to sweat, they accelerated the pace and started to feel the endorphins kick in.  There was no breeze, and Lake Michigan was unusually blue and flat for a spring day.  It was perfect.
        After their usual five miles they ended up back at the Blazer, and then walked a bit to cool down.  The twins were energized, as usual, and demanded to get out of the strollers.  Released, they did some walking around on their own as Matt and Mike watched them, and then the guys packed the kids and their strollers up, and they went home.
        Matt and Mike showered together again--to save water, Mike insisted.  Then they and the boys ate some lunch, after which the boys got sleepy and conked out in their playpen.
        "Well, shall we call them?" Mike asked, giving voice to what was on both their minds.
        Matt groaned.  "Yeah, let's get it over with.  I'll get on the kitchen phone."
        " 'K," Mike said, and punched his speed dial.
        Branford answered the phone at home, and told Mike that Mrs. Broman had gone to Washington a day early to be with her husband.  After chatting and finding out how he and Mrs. Brighton were, Mike hung up.
        "Did you hear that?" he shouted to Matt.
        "Yeah."
        "I'm gonna try the Watergate."  Mike punched another speed dial number.
        Jane Broman answered the phone.
        "Mom?  It's Mike."
        "Mike!  What a pleasant surprise!  How are you, dear?"
        "I'm great, Mom.  Matt's here with me on the extension.  How are you?"
        "Your dad and I are fine, Mike.  And Matt!  This is a bonus!  How are you and those beautiful twins?"
        "We're all good, Mom.  I miss you, and so do the boys.  I thought spring break was a good chance to spend some time with Mike, so we've been down here in Chicago all week."
        "I'm glad, sweetheart.  I've been hoping that you two could be friends again," Mrs. Broman said.
        " 'Friends' prolly doesn't cover it, Mom," Mike said.  "Matt and I are working on getting back together and raising the boys."
        "Well...you know I love you both, together or apart," Mrs. Broman said sincerely.  "I always have, and that's not going to change.  Any decision you come to will be just fine with me.  I know the twins will be loved and well cared for no matter what.  You deserve to be happy, and you have my support."
        "Thank you, Mom.  That means an awful lot to us," Matt said.
        "Mom," Mike said, "we have something else we need to talk to you about, and I don't want you to get upset.  OK?"
        "What's going on, Mike?" Mrs. Broman asked.
        "Well, we talked to Martha last night and to Jeff this morning," Mike said.  "Jeff has a problem.  But we have a plan, so I don't want you to be too worried."
        "Spit it out, guys!" Mrs. Broman said apprehensively.
        Matt cleared his throat.
        "Mom, I guess Jeff has a little drug problem," he said.
        "Go on," Mrs. Broman said.
        "Martha caught him smoking heroin last night," Matt said.
        "Oh, please God, no," she said, upset when she heard Jeff's drug of choice.
        "Mom, he's not injecting it, and he hasn't been smoking it for very long, so I don't think it's as serious as it sounds," Mike said.  "He was reluctant, but we worked out a way to hold things together until school is out, I think."
        "What's the plan?"
        "Well, first of all, he flushed the heroin he had in the apartment down the toilet while I was on the phone with him.  He said he did, anyway, and I believe him.  He's going to be calling here every night at 10 o'clock to tell me about his day and how he's feeling.  Matt will see him once a day to check on him after he and the boys get back to school on Sunday.  Jeff will be visiting the chapel at Canterbury or at Newman every day to get in touch with himself, and, I hope, get reacquainted with the Lord.  And I've told him that I want him packed and in his truck after his last final and on his way down here to stay with me for the summer.  I'll have him evaluated right away, and if he needs it, I'll put him in a residential program with good follow-up."
        Mike deliberately omitted the fact that Jeff had been sleeping with his supplier.
        "Don't we need to take him out of school right now?" Mrs. Broman asked.
        "In my judgment, no.  I don't think he's addicted yet, and I don't think we need to waste his whole semester," Mike responded.  "Matt will fill me in when he sees him.  But Martha thinks he's still studying hard, and going to classes.  Jeff confirms that, and says he's doing well in baseball, so I think things are going to be ok."
        "Why would a good kid like Jeff do such a thing?"
        "Mom, Jeff feels he's under a lot of pressure," Mike said.  "And I think it's true.  We all expect a lot from him, you know, and forget the toll it takes.  I think a lot of kids today are susceptible when it comes to getting into drugs for that very reason, unfortunately."
        "I think Mike's right," Matt said.  "As angry as this whole thing makes me, we need to help him through this.  I lost my cool with him this morning on the phone, and I'm sorry I did.  I should have been more concerned about him and less about myself and my own standards when it comes to drugs."
        "He knows you love him, Matt.  And you, too, Mike.  I don't know what to say about this whole thing.  I'm crushed."
        "Mom, trust us," Mike said.  "We're on top of it, and everything's gonna be all right.  Should we call Dad, or do you want to talk to him first?  I know he's not gonna be happy."
        "Let me talk to him first," Mrs. Broman said.  "We're having dinner out tonight, and I'll tell him after we get home.  He's probably going to want to talk to you before he calls Jeff."
        "That's a good idea," Matt said.  "Jeff doesn't need our anger right now, and I'm speaking as the biggest offender myself.  We'll wait to hear from Dad tonight."
        "All right.  Thank God for you two boys and for Martha.  Thank you both.  I love you, and I miss you."
        "We love you, Mom," Mike said.  "You hold a good thought, now.  Everything will work out fine."
        They hung up, and Matt came back to the den and sat down with his brother.
        "Man, I hated that," Mike said.  "She's such a good person.  I hate upsetting her like that."
        "She's a sweetheart, but she's tough, too.  We both have reason to know how amazing she is when the pressure's on."
        "Yeah," Mike said.  "You're pretty amazing yourself."
        "Whaddaya mean?" Matt asked, pleased.
        "You have heart, Matt.  I've always known that about you.  Even when I tried to hate you, I knew that.  You really do want the best for other people, and to be a better person yourself.  You don't ignore your own faults, you try to change.  Those are wonderful qualities, and put them together and they make you easy to love."
        "That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me, Mike."  Matt put a big hand on the back of Mike's neck, and looked into his eyes.
        "I mean it."
        "I hope you know I feel the same about you."
        "Yes."
        "Would this be a good time to talk about our plans?" Matt asked, sitting farther back on the couch.
        "As good as any, I guess.  I've been trying to figure out how we can make things work for us."
        "Me, too."
        "Matt, I need to tell you right up front that living without you and the twins for one or two more years until one of us finishes school just isn't in the cards for me.  I've only been living half a life for the past three years, and I don't want to do it any more.  It's wasting precious time that we won't get back."
        "I agree.  That's why I want to propose that the boys and I move to Chicago with you.  I can probably wangle a transfer to Northwestern or the University of Chicago or U. of  I.–Circle campus for my last year in law school.  You have a great place to live here, and you have two more years of school yet, so I think that makes sense."
        "It does make sense, but I hate like hell to ask you to turn your world and the kids' world upside down," Mike said reluctantly.  "It doesn't seem fair for you to make all the sacrifices."
        "Listen, bud, our roots, the boys' and mine, are here now because you're here.  That's the bottom line.  There's nothing I won't do to make this happen, and if I have to kiss pompous law school faculty ass from here to the east coast in the process, that's what I'm prepared to do."
        "What about Jeff?"
        "What about him?"
        "He may need some support next year from somebody nearby who cares about him, although I don't know that for a fact yet.  Dealing with Jeff isn't Martha's forte."
        "If he needs us, your third bedroom can be reserved for him," Matt said.  "I'll do anything for him I can, you know that, but I'm not separating the boys and me from you for another year.  Period.  Even another month is stretching it.  If Jeff needs us, he may have to come down here for school next year, too."
        "If I could, I'd move the whole family in here with us, you know that," Mike said.  "Actually, I've had some thoughts on the space issue, even if Jeff doesn't need to stay here after the summer's over."
        "Like what?"
        "There are two condos per floor in this building, same size.  The one across the hall is for sale.  We could connect the two, and remodel over there to provide a one bedroom apartment for a live-in couple to help us with the kids and housework, and add three more bedrooms to this apartment for family and guests.  We'd even have room for a gym and playroom for the kids if we wanted one.  If you and I are solid, I've been thinking about putting a bid on the place."
        "Whaddaya mean, if we're solid.  I'll give you solid in bed tonight," Matt said.  "That sounds excellent.  Let me bid on the place, though.  I know we're gonna need some help with the kids.  I have help with them during the day back at school, so we'll need it here, too."
        "Do you have the money for a bid?"
        "Well, yeah.  On my twenty-third birthday I got the trusts set up for me by my dad and grandfather.  The investments may still be in Dad's blind trust, I don't know.  Anyway..."
        "Awesome.  Well, why don't I go ahead and bid on the place so it doesn't get away from us, and if you want to kick in later, you can.  But you don't need to, y'know," Mike said.
        "Yeah I do.  We're partners, dufus.  Let's not get confused on that issue."
        " 'K.  This is exciting, Matt.  I think I'll call the realtor right now."
        They high fived and Mike pulled his brother into a hug and then let him go.
        "One more thing, Mike, before you call," Matt said seriously.
        "What?"
        "Look at me."
        Mike looked at him quizzically.
        "I want to have our relationship formally blessed.  I don't care if we have to go to Vermont to get it registered civilly, or know what church might be willing to do it here, but I want our partnership recognized.  Will you marry me, Mike?"
        Mike couldn't breathe for a minute he was so surprised.  His eyes got huge.
        "I'd be honored.  I'd be thrilled to death to marry you," he finally said solemnly.  Then he got a twinkle in his eye.  "Shouldn't one of us get down on one knee?" he asked.
        "I'll get down on both knees and bay at the moon if you want me to, bro.  I love you totally and completely, and I want to be with you forever."
        Mike scooted over close to Matt and took him in his arms.  They kissed gently.
        Matt reached into the watch pocket of his 501's and took out two silver rings.  Linked letter "M"s circled the circumference of each, the effect looking a bit like an American Indian symbol from the southwest.
        "These are temporary pinky rings I had made for us," Matt explained.  "I also had rings made for our ring fingers to replace these when we take our vows."
        Mike was dumbstruck.  Matt took his brother's left hand and placed one ring on his little finger, and then handed Mike the second ring so that he could reciprocate.
        "I...I," Mike stammered.  "I'm overwhelmed.  You take my breath away."
        "You've taken my breath away since I was 18, dude," Matt said.  "And I don't see that changing, ever."
        They sat there on the couch, holding hands and regaining a measure of composure.  Mike slowly rotated the ring Matt had just given him around on his finger, admiring it.
        When they came down from their emotional high a bit, Matt handed Mike the phone.
        "Cut a good deal on the condo, bud, 'cause I just got the best deal of my young life!" he said.

Part 3

        Thursday evening, spring break.
        Matt and Mike bathed the twins, put them in their pajamas, and then Mike took them back to the big couch in the den to read them their bedtime story.  Story finished, Mike gave them good night kisses and Matt carried them to the bedroom to their cribs.  The little guys were sleepy, so there were no protests when their dad laid each of them down, caressed their heads gently, and dimmed the bedroom light to a glimmer.  The boys went to sleep almost immediately.
        Matt rejoined his brother in the den and they watched a little TV, waiting for their father to call.  When the phone rang about 7:30, each of them involuntarily took a breath.  Mike answered, and then gestured for his brother to get on the extension, and Matt ran to the kitchen.
        It was Justice Broman, as they had expected.
        "Mike," the deep voice said, "this is Dad."
        "Hi, Dad, it's really good to hear your voice.  We've been waiting for your call," Mike said.
        "Dad, it's Matt.  I'm on the other phone.  How are you?"
        "I'm fine, Matt, but I'm missing my children and grandchildren an awful lot, I can tell you.  I really want to see you all, and sooner rather than later."
        "I miss you, Dad," Mike said.  "It's been too long since we all had a chance to sit down and talk.  I want to ask you right now if you and Mom can take a long weekend, maybe in early June, and come down for a visit?"
        "That sounds good, Mike.  Your Mom and I will try to make that work."
        "We'll hold you to that, Dad," Matt said on the other phone.
        "All right," Justice Broman said.  "Now, I called because I hear from Mom that Jeff has a problem."
        "Yes," Mike said.  "I don't know how much Mom told you, but we got a call from Martha last night--actually, early this morning--that she found Jeff smoking heroin in his room when she came in late from studying.  She was upset, naturally.  We asked her to have Jeff call us, and he did earlier today."
        Mike went on to fill Justice Broman in on both conversations and the instructions that he had given his young brother.
        "Does what I told him sound reasonable to you?" Mike asked.
        "Yes, Mike.  I suppose there is some degree of risk in not yanking him out of school right now, but I think you've set some good boundaries for him for the next month, and then we'll go from there.  Maybe I'm deluding myself, but this behavior just doesn't seem like Jeff at all."
        "Dad, I think some college and even high school and grade school kids are under such pressure to succeed at everything they do today that drugs are very attractive as a stress reliever," Mike responded.  "You probably don't know this, but I used to smoke marijuana once in awhile when I was in college until Matt made me quit.  Drugs are everywhere, and you have to have a strong mindset to resist them.  Or a brother like Matt.  Anyway, I've explained to Jeff that we need to look for the reasons behind his using heroin, and we will.  And of course, in addition to the high achievers, there's a whole other group of kids who just basically have no hope in their lives and use drugs to stay numb."
        Justice Broman sighed.
        "I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, but it's a lot tougher world out there for youngsters today than when I was growing up," he said.  "Your mom and I didn't have to face this kind of stuff."
        "Life seems to get more challenging all the time, Dad," Matt interjected.  "It's dangerous, too, for kids who don't know quite where they stand on things.  The possibilities and the choices are endless, some good, some bad."
        "I know," Justice Broman said.  "Speaking of possibilities and choices, I understand you two have some news for me."
        "Well, Mike and I are going to make our partnership permanent, and raise the twins together," Matt said after a short silence.  "We love each other, and we want to make that commitment."
        "We had a conversation a lot like this some years ago, so I don't need to go over the same ground again," Justice Broman said.  "Whatever reservations I may have about same-gender relationships because of the way I was raised or because of the Church's teaching, I want you yo know that I stand behind your decision--because I love you both and respect you.  And I'm damned proud of you and what you've accomplished already in life.  Besides, I've done some additional studying on the issue of homosexuality over the years, and I think the Church and government in general need to get up to speed on what we've learned about it.  Orientation isn't subject to choice, and in my opinion, only God Himself can demand celibacy.  He may demand it of individuals, and they should respond, but I don't think He demands it of homosexuals as a class.  Long story short, I support you in what you've decided.  Whatever setting or occasion or forum you use to take your vows, let your mother and me know, and if you want us, we'll be there.  Period."
        "You're incredible, sir," Mike said.  "I don't know what to say."
        "We don't want to cause you any public embarrassment, though, Dad," Matt said.  "We'd understand if you need to take a  pass."
        "Listen, you guys, at the risk of sounding like a simpleton, I follow the KISS principle when it comes to the priorities in my life.  First, God.  Second, wife and children.  And third is the country, the Court and the law.  There aren't any others.  That makes decision-making a breeze.  So, of course I'm going to be there if you invite me, no question.  That's a no-brainer."
        There was a palpable silence on the Chicago end of the phone.
        "Dad," Mike finally said, "I don't think there are any other parents in the world who can measure up to you and Mom.  I  mean that.  We love you so much..."
        "We're very proud of you, Dad," Matt said.  After a moment's silence, he asked, "Well, to get back to Jeff for a minute, what do you think of Mike's plan for him?"
        "It sounds good to me.  I think you're on top of things."
        "Dad, if I could make a suggestion for when you talk to Jeff," Mike said.  "I know you're probably a little disappointed in him right now, but tell him you love him and that you know he can put this behind him.  I don't think coming down hard on him will help the situation."
        "That's good advice, Mike, and that was going to be my approach," Justice Broman said.  "I'm going to call him right after I  hang up with you, and I'll back you up on everything you told him."   "Good," Mike said.  "I know he's probably a little on edge waiting to hear from you."
        "One more thing, Dad," Matt said.  "I'm going to try to transfer to a law school down here for next year.  Do you have any recommendations?"
        "Northwestern, U. of C., or U.I.C. are all good.  I know some people at Northwestern if you'd like me to talk with them."
        "Why don't we hold that in reserve," Matt suggested.  "If I run into a problem, I'll call you."
        "That will be fine, Matt.  Mike, how is school going for you?"
        "Good, Dad," Mike said.  "I sure needed a break, though, and having Matt here has really made me happy.  So, no problems at this end."
        "Good.  All right, then, boys, I'm glad I got to talk to you.  Thank you, thank you for intervening with Jeff.  Your mom and I  appreciate it.  We need to be able to count on each other, and I know I can count on you two.  You both sound as if you're in good spirits, and that's a nice change from the past couple of years.  That's just one more reason I want to support your decision to formalize your partnership.  You're in my thoughts and prayers all the time, I hope you know that.  Kiss those beautiful babies for us, please, and Mom and I will try to come to Chicago for a few days in early June."
        "Thanks, Dad.  I love you," Matt said.
        "Love you, Dad, and I can't wait to see you and Mom," Mike added, and the line went dead.
        "God broke the mold after He made that one," Matt said of their dad when he walked back into the den.
        "This is true," Mike responded.  "The broken mold explains why you're such a dud, dude!"
        "'Dud, dude?'  You talk funny, boy!  And you look kinda funny, too.  Whaddaya think's wrong with ya?" Matt shot back.
        "Whatever it is, a few days with you is all it takes to bring it out."
        "Shoot, you were bent as a corkscrew the first time I met you.  And thank goodness for that," Matt said, grabbing Mike and trying to give him a hickey on his neck.
        "Get off me, you animal!" Mike said, breaking away and running back toward their bedroom with Matt in hot pursuit.
        Things got interesting once they hit the bed.
                                                     *  *  *
        A thousand miles to the east, Jeff lay on his bed clad only in white jockey shorts, propped up on pillows, reading his history assignment for the next day.  His physique, highly developed and beautifully defined, was that of the consummate jock.  At 6', he was an inch taller than Mike and two inches taller than Matt, and didn't have an ounce of fat on his body.  His body type was somewhere between that of Matt's brawn and Mike's swimmer's physique.  He was smooth from the waist up, like Matt, except he had a light treasure trail running from his navel down to his pubic area, and had considerably more hair on his legs.  His chest was a work of art, with quarter-sized aureoles around prominent nipples.  He wore his brown hair in a brush cut like both his brothers.  His face was masculine with a square jaw and beautiful, proportionate features, and his eyes were deep pools of brown like Matt's.  He was, in short, an exceptionally handsome and virile-looking young man.  And you knew with one glance into his eyes that he was not only built, but intelligent.
        He idly scratched his crotch as he read.  He was nervous as he waited for his father to call because he had no idea what his dad would say to him.  Or what he could say in response, for that matter, that would sound reasonable.
        He was seriously annoyed with Mike, having that day, at his brother's behest, told his girlfriend/supplier that their brief sexual affair and his own affair with H was over.  He would kind of miss the girl, and sex with her had been all right, but it certainly hadn't been love between them. Although he had not slept well last night without a smoke before bed, he knew that the heroin had been a sedative for him, nothing more.
        That Mike had planned his summer for him didn't sit well, either.  But so far he had done everything that Mike had told him to do because he said he would, and lying was foreign to him.  He might do things he shouldn't, but he never lied.  He'd even gone over the chapel at Canterbury and sat for 10 minutes.  What that was supposed to accomplish, he wasn't sure.  It had been peaceful, he had to admit.  But no one is his right mind sits in an empty church in the middle of a weekday.
        He wasn't very happy with Martha, either, although he knew that she had called their brothers because she was frightened.  But he knew better than to give her the cold shoulder and make her angry.  If Martha really got on his case, it would be like having their mother close at hand to contend with, and it was best not to be on the bad side of either one of them.  Anyway, he didn't need any more tension in the apartment or in his life than he was feeling already.
        As far as Matt was concerned, there was no sense in even trying to discuss drug use with him.  Jeff wasn't sure where it had come from, but the guy was psycho on the subject.  Totally irrational.
        He was wondering if his brothers had told their dad about his carnal relationship with his ex-girlfriend/supplier when the phone rang.  Steeling himself for the worst, he picked up.
        "Hello."
        "Jeff?  This is Dad."
        "Hi, Dad," he said in a subdued voice.
        "How are you, son?"
        "I'm pretty good.  How are you?"
        "I'm fine, thanks.  Your mom is here with me in Washington through the weekend, and she's well."
        "That's good.  I guess you're calling me because you talked to Mike and Matt," Jeff said, getting right down to business.
        "Yes," Justice Broman said.  "Is what they told me true?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "I've always respected you for not lying to me, Jeff.  Do I need to tell you how I feel about one of my children using heroin?"
        "No, sir."
        "Mike tells me that you flushed your supply and ended your relationship with your supplier, is that right?"
        "Yes."  Jeff waited for something to be said about his choice of sexual partners, but his father didn't pursue that.  Or else didn't know.  He hoped it was the latter.
        "That's a start," Justice Broman said.  "Are you following through on the things that Mike told you to do?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "All right.  That's good.  Listen, I didn't call to beat you up about this.  I'm just very worried about you, I hope you understand that."
        "Yes, I know."
        "Do I have your word that you're off drugs, and especially heroin, for good?"
        "Yes."
        "I'm told that your grades are going to be up where they should be, and that you're not having any problems with baseball.  Is this true?"
        "Yes, I should make the Dean's List, and the coach has had nothing but positive things to say about my performance.  So..."
        "Good.  I want you to know that I stand behind Mike's instructions to you one hundred percent.  Now, if you and Martha want to keep the apartment at school for another year, pay the rent through the end of summer.  Then pack up the truck after your last final, and you get your tail down to Chicago.  If you're clean and sober, and I know you will be, Matt and Mike will find you a job.  Maybe you'd like to lifeguard again?"
        "That would be great!" Jeff said, some enthusiasm surfacing for the first time in the conversation.
        "Well, the Park District will drug test you, I suspect.  But that won't be any problem for you, will it?"
        "No, sir."
        "Jeff, I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, and you're probably stressed out.  But if you're having serious trouble sleeping, get some over the counter sleeping pills or see a doctor for something stronger.  You need your rest.  Will you do that for me?"
        "Yes, sir, I will."
        "I love you, Jeff.  We all do.  We won't let you down, and I'm asking you to reciprocate.  Don't be angry at us."
        "I'm not, really.  But I admit it's a little annoying to have family watchdogging me all the time."  Jeff almost said "spying on me all the time," but changed his words at the last second.
        "Son, you can't buy the kind of concern your family has for you.  You're a fortunate young man, and from our end, we're lucky to have you.  So I'm asking you to go along with us."
        "I will."
        "Do you want to say hello to Mom?"
        "Yes, please.  And thank you, Dad."
        Jeff talked briefly with his mother, and then they hung up.
        Breathing a sigh of relief that his dad had been so low key, Jeff went to the kitchen for a coke.  He came back and lay down on his bed again, smiling to himself.  Hell, another summer in Chicago on the beach would be excellent, actually, now that he thought about it.  Women everywhere!
        When he hit his history assignment again, he was in a much better mood.
                                                     *  *  *
        The telephone rang at precisely 9:00 p.m., Chicago time.  Matt and Mike were still lying naked and entwined in bed after a very satisfying romp in the sack.  They'd had a brief nap, and then had been talking about their plans for the summer.
        Mike answered the phone, and it was Jeff, good as his word.
        "Hi, Mike.  It's Jeff."
        "Jeff!  How you doin', bro?"
        "I'm good.  Dad called."
        "What did he say?" Mike asked.
        "He was surprisingly calm about the whole deal.  I owe you for that, I s'pose.  Anyway, he basically told me that he and Mom are worried about me, and that I should do everything you tell me to do.  So, how does it feel to have a slave of your very own?" Jeff asked in seeming good humor.
        "I'm likin' it, dude!  Tell me about your day."
        "I broke up with my girl, and I went to Canterbury this afternoon and sat on my ass for ten minutes.  I went to class and to practice.  And I'm clean.  That about covers it," Jeff said with perhaps just a hint of resentment.
        "How were classes?  You make them all?"
        "Yeah.  Sameol', sameol'."
        "Practice?"
        "Great, actually.  I hit a home run with two on base.  I'm a hero."
        "Are you stressed out?" Mike asked seriously.
        "Yeah, kinda.  I didn't sleep too well last night.  Dad said I should try some over-the-counter sleeping pills, and I'll get some tomorrow.  If that doesn't work, he wants me to go to a doctor for something stronger."
        "All right, sounds good," Mike said.  "It'll take some time to find out what works for ya.  Let me know what does.  The main thing is to get through the next month with no problems."
        "I will.  Listen, Dad suggested that you might be able to hook me up with the Parks Department again so I can lifeguard."
        "I think I can prolly do that, provided you hang in there with what I've told you to do."
        "No problem, bro," Jeff promised.
        " 'K, then.  I'll work on it.  Is Martha there?"
        "No, she's at the library, I think."
        "Ask her if she can come to Chicago during the first weekend in June.  Mom and Dad are coming for a long weekend, and it would be a good chance for all of us to be together."
        "I'll ask her," Jeff said.
        "All right then, Jeff.  Thanks for calling, and I'll be looking for your call tomorrow night.  We love ya."
        "Love you guys, too.  Hi to Matt.  Laters."
        Mike hung up the phone, and rolled back toward Matt.
        "How does he sound?" Matt asked.
        "Good, actually.  Still a little pissed, maybe.  But good.  Let's keep our fingers crossed.  He says hi, by the way."
        "He said hi and you didn't let me say hi back?  I'm outraged.  You call him back right now so I can say hi!" Matt demanded.
        "No."
        "If you don't, you're gonna be very sorry.  Very sorry."
        "No!  Don't be ridiculous!"
        "All right, then, it's story time!"
        "Oh, no, not this time!" Mike said and struggled with the sheets to escape from bed.
        He wasn't fast enough, and Matt got an arm over his chest and pinned him down.  Then he straddled Mike and stared down into his blue eyes.
        "Where did this cruel streak in your nature come from?" Mike asked, looking up.  "Mom and Dad are nice, and so are Jeff and Martha.  You're the only real brat in the family."
        "I was always a nice guy 'til you starting forcing me to have sex.  Doing the nasty with you brought out my latent sense of humor and a whole new side to my character.  Aren't cha glad?"
        "NO!  Now get off me, lard butt!"
        Matt bent down and kissed Mike, slipping him some tongue in the process.
        "Yuck!  Don't kiss me!  Who knows where that mouth has been!" Mike said, turning his head to the side and scrunching up his face.
        "You're prolly right to be afraid," Matt said.  "It's been in intimate contact with your very own toxic tool!"
        "You're a toxic tool," Mike said.
        "What'll you give me to let you up?"
        "Nothing!"
        "Bwwwaaatttt!!  Wrong answer, there's the buzzer!  Listen up, bud–let's do this the easy way!" Matt said with a huge smile of satisfaction.
        "Two doctors were in a hospital hallway one day complaining about  Nurse Nancy.
        "'She's incredibly mixed up,' said one doctor. 'She does everything  absolutely backwards. Just last week, I told her to give a patient 2  milligrams of morphine every 10 hours. She gave him 10 milligrams  every 2 hours. He almost died on us!'
        "The second doctor said, 'That's nothing. Earlier this week, I told  her to give a patient an enema every 24 hours. She tried to give  him 24 enemas in one hour! The guy nearly exploded!'
        "Suddenly, they hear this bloodcurdling scream from down the hall.
        "'Oh my Lord!' said the first doctor, holding his head. 'I just realized  I told Nurse Nancy to prick Mr. Smith's boil!'    
        Mike groaned.
        "You should go to prison for perverted and unnatural jokery," he said.  "That's a crime in Illinois!  Gimme the phone book.  I'm calling the States Attorney's office!"
        "Can you read it while it's up your butt?" Matt inquired.
        "You've gotten crude as you've matured.  Er, maybe 'matured' isn't the right word in your case.  'Gotten older,' maybe?"
        "Kiss me, and I'll let you go," Matt instructed.
        "No way!"
        "Way!" Matt said.
        He bent down to claim his prize just as Mike heaved upward and threw Matt to the side.  Mike scrambled from bed and ran for the shower with Matt hot on his trail.  Matt followed his lover into the shower.  They turned on the water and held each other as the warm spray enveloped them, laughing like little kids.
        They washed one another tenderly, and when finished, toweled each other dry, and each brushed his teeth.  Finished, Matt checked on the boys in the next bedroom while Mike remade the bed and climbed in.  Matt came back, eased in next to his brother, and they lay there looking into one anothers eyes.
        "I love you, Mike.  I've never, ever, met anyone quite like you.  For me, everything that's beautiful and wonderful in this world boils down to you.  You make me so-o-o happy."
        Mike lay absolutely still for a long moment, and then took Matt's hand.
        "I dreamed over and over of being here with you like this the last two years," he finally responded.  "I didn't really think it would ever happen again.  How often does real life turn out the way we want it to?  I'd given up on us, and sometimes I've been close to giving up on myself.  But here we are, and I'm totally in love with you.  You and and the twins own my heart, bro.  The Lord has been good.  I shouldn't admit it, but I can even stand your jokes if it means I can be with you and the boys.  Thank you for not giving up on me."
        Matt kissed Mike gently on the lips and caressed his hair back from his forehead.  Snuggled together with commingled breath, they fell asleep.
                                                     *  *  *
        The next morning after Matt and Mike had bathed, dressed and fed the twins, Mike received a phone call.  It was the realtor handling the sale of the adjoining condo.  She said that the current owners had accepted Mike's bid on the place, and wanted to know when it would be convenient to schedule the closing.  Mike's fist punched the sky in triumph.  He picked the following Tuesday, late afternoon, and told her he would have a certified check ready in the full amount for the meeting.
        Giving Matt the news, they toasted each other in orange juice, ecstatic that their plans seemed to be falling into place.  They drank their orange juice and coffee happily, thinking about the future, when Matt remembered their plans for the evening..
        "Dude, we hafta get into our hip hop mode," Matt said to his brother.
        ""Whaddaya mean?" Mike asked.
        "Arnie's coming over tonight."
        "Hmmm.  You're right!  I'm getting majorly pumped already!"
        "Are we gonna cook or order in?" Matt inquired.
        "I donno.  Why doncha give him a call and see what he wants to eat.  For all we know, he may be a vegetarian by now, or something equally exotic."
        Matt took the phone and punched the speed dial number Mike gave him.  Arnie sounded groggy, but roused himself sufficiently to tell Matt that pizza and beer sounded good to him, and that he'd arrive about 8 o'clock.  Matt apologized for waking him, and hung up.
        "Eight.  Pizza and beer," Matt reported in brief.
        "Got it!" Mike said.  "Listen, I hafta go down to school for a few minutes and check my mail and messages.  You and the boys wanna come along?"
        "Yeah!  Will ya show us how you work on a cadaver?"
        "I thought that's what I've been doing all week in bed."
        Matt reached over and cuffed his partner lightly on the back of the head.
        "Is that lively enough for ya?" he demanded.
        "Ow," Mike said.
        "Yeah, ow!" Matt said.  "Keep it up, and 'ow' won't cover it!"
        Mike vaulted one handed over the back of the couch, the boys watching in astonishment.
        "I have a few choice words for ya, but I can't say 'em in front of the boys," he said.  "Meanwhile, I'm off to the shower.  And you stay out!"
        "Then who will wash your fat butt for ya, dufus?" Matt inquired.  "You're too much of a porker to get back there yourself."
        Mike considered that for a moment.
        "Good point.  When you're right, you're right!  Put the boys in jail, and let's get wet."
        Matt put the boys in their playpen, making them none too happy, and followed Mike down the hall with an anticipatory grin on his face.
        After their shower, they dressed themselves and the boys.  Mike took Breakers for a quick outing on the front lawn, and they headed for the garage.  They drove downtown and were lucky enough to find a parking space near the med school.  A watery sun shown down on them, and a cool, blustery breeze was blowing off the lake.
        Putting the twins in their strollers, they walked to the school and Mike led them first to the mail room where he retrieved a bunch of messages and memos that had piled up in his box.  Then they headed for the cafeteria to grab an early lunch before the place got crowded.
        Matt staked out a table with the boys while Mike went through the line and got soup and sandwiches for all of them.  When he returned, they began to spoon some soup into the twins, still in their strollers.  Then Matt and Mike ate.
        Matt saw a good looking, lithe but well defined young man dressed in whites eying them from across the room.  He had a cute face, thinning auburn hair, and a pleasant expression.  Mike glanced up, saw him leaving the food line, and waved at him to join them.  He walked like a jock, Matt noticed, and gave off good, solid masculine vibes.  When he got closer, Matt saw he had a pair of nice, green-gray eyes.
        "Sean, I want you to meet my brother, Matt, and this is Michael and this is Matthew," Mike said, pointing to the twins.  "Matt, Sean Garrity."
        Matt and Sean shook hands.
        "Sean, grab a chair," Mike said with a smile.
        " 'K," Sean said, and sat down across from Matt.
        "How old are the boys, Matt?" Sean asked as he started to eat.
        "Two and a half.  I'm still waiting for the 'terrible twos' to hit in earnest.  These guys can be pretty contrary sometimes, like their Uncle Mike, but on the whole, they're good boys."
        "Mike had mentioned a while back that your wife had died," Sean said.  "I'm sorry."
        "Thanks," Matt said, not elaborating.
        "Matt will be starting his last year in law school," Mike commented.  "He's thinking about transferring schools and moving down here to Chicago, though."
        "Cool," Sean said.  "You gonna move in with Mike, then?"
        "Yeah.  Somebody has to take care of his sorry butt."
        Sean laughed.  "I s'pose.  He's done great in school, though.  If he's not number 1 in our class, he's close.  He's good at everything.  I hate 'im!"
        "You're no slouch yourself, dude!" Mike said.  Spotting a gray-haired man in a white coat in the food line, Mike excused himself and went over to talk with him for a moment.
        Matt was surprised to see Sean checking out Mike's levi-clad ass as he walked away.
        "You and the boys been here all week?" Sean asked Matt, coming back to earth.
        "Yeah."
        "You must be good company.  I haven't seen Mike is such a good mood for--well, forever," Sean said.  "I really like Mike, and admire him.  I've always wanted to get to know him better.  But he stays pretty much to himself.  He told me once he had a love affair that went bad."
        "Really?" Mike asked, deadpan.
        "Yeah."
        "Well, he's a pretty resilient guy," Matt said.  He decided that if Mike wanted to tell Sean about their relationship, he could do that.  But he was going to keep his mouth shut.
        "Yes, he is.  Hey, that's a nice ring you're wearing, man," Sean said, pointing at Matt's engagement ring.  "I see that Mike has one, too."
        "You don't miss much, dude.  It's a family thing," Matt said.
        "A family with traditions!  That's unusual anymore."
        "We're all tight."
        "You're lucky.  The less I see of my family and they of me, the happier we all are."
        "That's too bad.  We are lucky," Matt said.  "Our family's gotten us through some tough times, believe me."
        Mike rejoined them and resumed eating.
        "So, Mike, are we ever goin' out for a night on the town?" Sean asked.  "I've been waiting for a couple of years, now."
        Mike glanced over at Matt.
        "Prolly not, Sean," he said.  "Matt and I are partners."
        "Jesus!  And brothers!" Sean said with a look of incredulity on his face.
        "Easy, dude," Mike said.  "We're adoptive brothers, just to set the record straight."
        "Oh!  Man, I apologize for what I was thinkin'!" Sean said.  "I should mind my own business."
        Matt started to tell Sean he was right about that, but he clamped his jaw and remained silent.
        "Matt and I were lovers through the last two years of college, and now we're back together," Mike explained.
        "Well, congratulations to you both.  It'll be a challenge for a gay couple raising these little guys," Sean said, looking at the boys.  "But a good challenge."
        "We think we can do a good job of it," Mike said.
        "I don't have any doubt about that," Sean said, appraising the two young men.
        "Thanks," Matt said.
        "So, you're the one," Sean said to Matt.
        "What?"
        "The one Mike's been in love with all along," Sean said.
        "Well..."
        "I wanted to date Mike so-o-o bad," Sean admitted a little ruefully.  "But I didn't stand a chance, and I can see why now."
        "Are you dating anyone now, Sean?" Matt asked.
        "No, no one steady.  And I feel like time's getting away from me.  I hit the bars, and everybody looks, well, so damn young!"
        "Yeah, you're all of 24, 25," Mike said sarcastically.  "A real old-timer."
        "24, actually," Sean admitted.
        Matt looked over at Mike quizzically, and then made a decision.
        "Um, I'm not trying to matchmake here, but if you're free tonight, why don't you come over about 8 for pizza and beer?" Matt said  "Another friend of ours is coming, too.  He's really cute.  If you can make it, you might like him."
        "Hey, I'm not proud," Sean said with a laugh.  "I'm not doing anything.  I'll be there."
        "Bro, you da bomb!" Mike said to Matt, smiling.  He told Sean, "I think you met this guy at 'scoes the first time we ever met.  Anyway, when you get to our place, park in the garage underneath the building--slot P-3."
        "'P?'" Sean asked.
        "Yeah, dufus.  Penthouse.  Ring us, and we'll buzz you in.  Park the Boxster right next to my dirty ol' truck," Mike laughed.  "Maybe some of the beauty will rub off."
        "You live in a penthouse on Sheridan Drive, and you drive a dirty truck.  I can't figure you out, Mike.  What do you drive, Matt?" Sean asked.
        "A truck, only it's older and rustier," Matt admitted.
        "Daddy taught us to be frugal," Mike said.  "And don't think I'm kidding!"
        "What does your dad do?" Sean inquired.
        "Uh, he's a judge," Matt said.
        "Really.  My dad's a lawyer here in Chicago.  Where does your dad serve?"
        "Washington, D.C." Matt said.
        "Which court?"
        "The Supreme Court."
        "Holy shit!  That Broman?"
        "Yep."
        "Man!...I'm glad I didn't criticize any of the Court's recent decisions in front of you guys," Sean said with a laugh.
        "Well, we're all pretty independent thinkers in our family," Mike said.  "So it wouldn't have been a big thing."
        " 'K," Sean said.  "Listen, guys, I gotta hit it.  Thanks for the invite for tonight, and I'll see you around 8."
        "Laters, man," Matt said.  "And by the way, it's a T shirt and jeans night.  Our friend will prolly be overdressed, but he's a model.  He can't help himself."
        Sean laughed and walked off with a farewell wave.
        "He's hot for your bod, buddy," Matt said quietly to Mike with a grin when they were alone.
        "Not."
        "Oh, yeah, he is.  When you walked over to talk to your professor or whoever that guy was, his eyes were glued to your ass like flies to a cow pie."
        "Elegantly put, country boy, but wrong!" Mike said dismissively.
        "He is!  Of course, he's just appreciating true beauty."
        "Nope!
        "Yep!  And that's my final word."
        "Ha!  Your final word?  My ears should be so lucky!"
        Matt rose from the table with a satisfied smile, and took the handle of Michael's stroller, prepared to get under way.
                                                     *  *  *
        The guys were sitting on the couch in the den listening to Steven Tyler of Aerosmith wail and snarl from the stereo, at reduced volume so as not to wake the boys, of course, when the phone rang a few minutes after 8 o'clock.  It was Arnie, down in the foyer.  Mike buzzed him up.
        "Yo, what up, dawg?" Arnie said when Matt opened the door to his knock.
        "You are, dude," Matt said as he grabbed Arnie up off the floor in a bear hug and twirled him around.  He kissed him on the cheek and put him down, giving him the once over.  Arnie's beautiful cocoa skin radiated health.  He had lost a little of his baby face, and looked more handsome than ever.
        "I feel popular," Arnie said with a grin.  "I should gravitate over here more often."
        "Yeah, you should!" Mike said.
        "How they hangin', guys?  I've missed you," Arnie said.  "I hafta say it's good to see the two of you in the same room, back together again.  You were meant for each other."  He kissed Matt and then went over and hugged and kissed Mike.
        "We're happy about it," Matt said.  "How'd ya know?"
        "When Mike called and said you were here, I just knew."
        "Smart man.  Listen, before you sit down, I want you to see the twins," Matt said proudly.  "They're sleeping, but you'll get the idea."
        The three of them went down the hall to the boys' room, and tiptoed over to the cribs, placed side by side.  Breathing gently, lying on their backs, the twins were oblivious to their visitors.
        For once, Arnie seemed at a loss for words as they peered down at the two boys, their fine, blond hair shimmering even in the dim light.
        "Holy, moly," Arnie whispered finally.  "They're angel children.  So beautiful!  I wish I could hold them."
        "You're gonna have your chances, bud," Mike said.  "What's your fee for babysitting?"
        "For you dudes, it's a freebie.  Seriously, I love kids.  You guys are so-o-o lucky.  I envy you."
        "Well, we feel pretty good about it most of the time," Matt said.  "Once in awhile they test us, but they're really good kids, don't you think, Mike?"
        "Yeah," Mike agreed.  "They're great.  They take after Sarah, fortunately."
        Walking back to the den, Arnie slipped his arm around Matt.
        "Sorry about your wife, man."
        "Thanks.  It hurt."
        Without answering, Arnie hugged Matt tighter.
        "By the way, bro, Mike and I are getting married, or whatever equivalent we can work out.  Soon."
        Arnie stopped in his tracks, his eyes shining.
        "Congrats, dude!  That is so wonderful!  I'm a little disappointed, though, I hafta admit.  I was hoping all along that I could get Mike out of the picture and I could have you all to myself."
        "We don't know the details at this point," Mike said, smiling at his friend's last statement.  "We're thinking about getting ourselves registered as a couple in Vermont if they haven't repealed the law by then.  The family wants to be there.  But we'll let you know.  We want to have a ceremony of blessing back here afterward, but we have to find a clergyman who will do the job."
        Arnie gave them two thumbs up and a big, beautiful smile.
        They arrived back in the den just as the phone rang.  It was Sean Garrity, and Mike buzzed him up.
        Arnie looked at Matt and Mike curiously.
        "We asked one of my buddies from med school to come over, too," Mike said to Arnie.  "Hope that's OK.  I think you met him one night at Roscoes awhile back."
        Arnie looked down disapprovingly at the neatly pressed button-down shirt, khaki cargoes and white Nikes he was wearing.
        "I look like shit," he said.
        "You look fine," Mike said as he opened the door.
        Sean, looking athletic in a Blink-182 T and skin-tight, faded 501's, came in and was reintroduced to Arnie.  They bumped fists.
        Arnie and Sean sat down on the couch, and Matt and Mike pulled up easy chairs, everybody casually plunking his feet down on the coffee table.
        "I've spotted you from a distance at Roscoes every so often, Arnie," Sean said.  "And haven't you been in some International Male catalogs recently?"
        "Yeah, I've been in the last three catalogs.  I like those gigs because the shoots are pretty painless, and they usually let you keep whatever you model.  That's where I got this shirt and cargos, as a matter of fact," Arnie said.
        "Lookin' good, bud," Mike said to Arnie.  "You been workin' out?"
        "You know better than that, dude," Arnie said.  "I do try to run a couple days a week, though.  You guys look like you all work out."
        "Not!" Matt and Mike said simultaneously.
        "I'm at the gym twice a week," Sean admitted.  "Not enough to make a difference, I s'pose.  I do run almost every day, though."
        "Your chest and legs look good from where I'm sitting," Arnie said.  "Whatever you're doin', keep it up."
        "Watch it, Sean!  He's hitting on you already," Mike said, laughing.
        "You can't lie to these eyes," Arnie protested.
        "Well, thanks," Sean said smoothly.  "You're lookin' good yourself, man."
        "Throw a bucket of water on 'em before this goes any further," Matt said to Mike.  "They hafta eat pizza yet."
        "Speaking of which," Mike said, "the pizza should be here any minute.  Who wants something to drink?"
        "Beer for me," Sean said.
        "Got any chianti?" Arnie asked.
        "Yep," Mike said, heading for the kitchen.  "Come help me, Matt."
        " 'K," Matt said, and following his brother out of the room.
        When they came back with plates, glasses, napkins and beverages, Sean and Arnie had moved closer to each other on the couch and were talking animatedly, looking into one anothers eyes.
        Mike pinched Matt's ass, nodding his head toward their guests.
        "What a cute little cupid you are, bro.  See what you've done now?"
        "Use it or lose it!" Matt said, pulling Mike into his arms, kissing him.
        Two huge, deep dish pizzas arrived.  Mike paid and gave the cute delivery guy a nice tip. They all joined hands as Matt offered thanks for their food.   The conversation slowed while the four young men tore into their meal.  By the time they finished, there wasn't even a piece of crust left.  Naturally they drank some more to help settle the food.  They talked about school, modeling, sports, the Chicago scene, and just generally had a good time.  Sean and Arnie were obviously concentrating more on each other than on the conversation, though.  Arnie wasn't queening it up at all.
        The phone rang about 9 o'clock, and it was Jeff.  Mike went into the kitchen and talked with him for about 10 minutes, and was satisfied that everything was going well.  He went back to the den, giving Matt a thumbs up as he entered.
        "So, Sean," Mike heard Arnie asking, "I'm just double checking, but you're gay, right?"
        "As a goose," Sean said with a smile.
        "You out?"
        "Not really.  My family doesn't know at all."
        "That's stressful," Arnie observed.  "I'm lucky, 'cause my family has known forever and gave me good support in school when I needed it most.  I love 'em to death."
        "I'm not close to my family," Sean said.  "I have two brothers, one older, one younger, both married and breeding like good Catholic boys should.  My mom has always been pretty much an invalid, and my dad--well, he's had his girlfriends throughout their marriage.  My dad is also homophobic as hell, so I pretty much grew up in isolation so far my sexuality is concerned.  In some ways, it's your typical dysfunctional family when it comes to communication."
        "When did you know you were gay?" Arnie asked.
        "I've known since before puberty.  I compensated for being attracted to guys by playing the heterosexual wild man all through high school and college.  I had the macho game down to a T.  Naturally, the more women I dated, the more miserable I was.  When I went to med school, I stopped dating women altogether, but I've haven't had a lot of luck finding men I'm attracted to, either, I hafta say."
        "I have plenty of weird-ass guys comin' on to me all the time, but not too many nice ones," Arnie admitted.  "I've gotten pretty selective in my old age, but I had a lotta dick in my younger days.  I count my blessings I never caught anything, if y'know what I mean, 'cause I did everything and everyone who could be done, and then some."
        "Yeah," Sean said.
        Arnie got up went over to the shelf of CD's, and put some Ace of Base on the player.  Pulling Sean to his feet, the two of them burned off a few calories dancing to the deep, strong beat while Matt and Mike watched them.  They moved well together, Mike thought to himself.  Arnie hadn't lost any of his great dance moves.  He had a natural grace about him.  Pretty soon Mike pulled Matt up, and the two couples danced for a few more songs.
        Arnie continued to drink chianti until the bottle was empty, while Sean kept putting away the Heineken's.  They were feeling no pain when Sean rose from the couch about midnight, wavering a bit, to say he should get going.  Arnie got up, too, lost his balance, and immediately fell back down to a sitting position on the couch.
        "Sean, it probably isn't such a good idea for you to drive," Matt said.  "You're drunk, dude.  You can either take a cab or stay here, if you want.  Arnie, you can stay, too.  You're both so cute you'd probably get molested on the way home, anyway."
        "Mother!!" Sean joked as he hugged Matt and sloppily kissed his cheek.  "I knew I'd find a duplicate of you in the outside world someday."
        "Yo mama, bullshit!" Arnie said, laughing.  "And if you're gonna cash in tonight, I want the Boxster, unscathed."
        "You're wack, dude!  I'm gonna be buried in that car!" Sean said.
        "Maybe, but not tonight," Mike said.
        "Alright, we'll cab it, ok with you, Arnie?" Sean finally agreed.
        " 'K, I'm wit' ya, bro!" Arnie said.  "Let's bounce."
        "Anybody still able to use a telephone?" Sean asked, slurring his words a little.
        Mike looked up the number of a cab company and phoned.  They said there would be a cab there in 10 minutes.
        "Sean, give me your car key," Matt said.  "I'll leave it at the front desk for ya tomorrow, 'K?"
        "Yeppers.  Thanks for everything, guys," Sean said, handing over his key.  "I've really enjoyed the evening, no shit."
        "Me, too, dudes," Arnie chimed in. "You're my very favorite couple, and I love ya, and I love the kids, and I've missed you both like crazy.  I'll call ya tomorrow."
        Mike took them to the door, and watched until they got on the elevator before he shut the door.
        Going back into the den, he saw Matt bending over the coffee table, stacking the plates and silverware.  He grabbed him around the waist from behind and ran one hand down Matt's muscular stomach, under the waistband of his jockies and into his crotch, fondling his package.
        "Feeling playful, are we?" Matt snorted.  "Don't get me chubbed up before I take Breakers downstairs for a few minutes, huh?"
        "Spoilsport," Mike said, withdrawing his hand after a final squeeze.  "I'll take Breakers out.  Hey, ya think Sean and Arnie will hook up tonight?"
        "I dunno.  They seem to like each other."
        "I'll find out Monday and phone you back at school," Mike promised.
        " 'K.  If you're taking the dog down, I'll clean up here and get in the shower."
        "No shower!  I have plans for you, and I want you nice and gamy."
        "Like you are every night, you mean."
        Mike stuck his tongue in Matt's ear, and danced away before he could retaliate.  Calling Breakers, he leashed him and went downstairs, taking the pooper scooper and a ziploc bag with him.
        When Mike came back upstairs, the den was dark, and the only light showing came from his and Matt's bedroom down the hall.  He removed Breakers' leash and hung it up, and went to the kitchen where he doublewrapped the ziploc bag and discarded it in the garbage.
        He headed for the bedroom.  Matt was lying supine on the bed under the sheet.  They smiled at each other, and Mike went on into bathroom, where he washed his hands and face and brushed his teeth.  By that time of the night he had a stubble.  Rubbing his face, he ignored his whiskers and went back into the bedroom.
        Sliding into bed with Matt, he turned on his side and faced his partner, ready to initiate lovemaking that he hoped would last until they were both raw.  Reaching over, he pulled Matt into his arms.  As their faces touched, Mike felt moisture.  He backed off and took a closer look.  Matt's eyes looked wet.
        "Are you all right?" Mike asked quietly.
        "Not really."
        "What's wrong?"
        "You've given me a big problem," Matt said.  "And I don't mean the usual hardon."
        "Talk to me."
        "This is just whining, plain and simple, and I'm kind of ashamed to even be saying it considering the problems that other people have.  But tomorrow's our last full day together, and it's gonna kill me to pack up the boys and leave you here."
        "I know," Mike said, caressing his brother's face.
        "I don't know whether you do or not, Mike, fully.  You're the heart of my heart.  The love and generosity and forgiveness you've given me have been...awesome.  You've let me back into your life, and that's more than I had any right to expect from someone I hurt as much as I hurt you.  You're totally beautiful, inside and out.  You make me high and happy and content, and now I'm re-addicted to you."  Matt smiled.  "So it's all your fault!"
        "I'd love to take the credit, but I know better," Mike said. "I'm more sure than ever that you and I were meant to be.  I lusted for your sweet ass the first time you showed up in our room at school in those perfect 501's--I can still see you back then in my mind's eye--the body from heaven. But I knew it was real love when you took care of me after my family was killed.  I got a true measure of your soul and spirit.  How many guys living a straight life, like you were then, would have been secure enough and caring enough to get into a gay friend's bed and hold him because he was hurting?  Not many.  So what we feel for each other flows both ways.
        "Being gay in this world is no picnic, we know that, but I'll tell you, I think I've been blessed," Mike continued. "I've always kinda envied the straight guys that I see everywhere with their girls on their arms--life seems so effortless for them.  I've always thought how easy and good my life would be if the Lord had just made me straight.  But I don't think I'll have those thoughts anymore, because we've found our way back together, and I mean that spiritually as much as physically.  Mom told me once that when you were growing up, you were occasionally willful, but that you also were basically kind and good and loving, and that you always fought for the underdog.  She nailed it, fer sure.  I love you to the core of my being for those wonderful qualities, along with your brains and great bod, and as far as I'm concerned, our love is carved  in stone."
        Mike paused.  "And, of course, it doesn't hurt that you have a big, juicy cock," he added, grinning, gently palming the named appendage.
        Matt smiled and kissed Mike softly, smoothing his lover's hair back from his forehead.  They lay in each others arms for several hours, alternately dozing and waking until Matt asked Mike to make love to him.
        More than ready, Mike straddled Matt's legs, and lay down so that his head was on Matt's chest, and he began massaging his brothers pecs and abs with his big, swimmer's hands.  Then he reached up licked each of Matt's ears thoroughly, nibbling gently on his ear lobes and probing with his tongue.  Matt groaned with pleasure.  Mike began slowly to tongue and nibble the silky skin of his lover's chest, concentrating on the quarter-sized aureoles of his nipples until those little mounds of flesh were happily standing at attention.  Gradually, ever so gradually, Mike began the exciting trek down to Matt's abs, making sure that none of the sexy topography along the way was neglected.  He could feel Matt's cock growing turgid and poking him in the balls, even as his own penis was engorging.
        Matt cupped Mike's butt, massaging and kneading the muscles of that beautiful ass.  Bringing his right hand to his mouth, Matt wet his fingers and ran them up and down Mike's crack, passing lightly over his rosebud.  Pausing then at the doorway, he pushed his middle finger inside, stopping at the first knuckle and letting it remain there, quiescent.  It was Mike's turn to groan appreciatively.
        The blood was singing through Mike's body as his tongue continued exploring, breaking only periodically to seek his brother's mouth and tongue, as if for renewal.  Re-energized, the journey down Matt's glowing body resumed.  Matt's navel became the focus of attention, and then Mike returned to the nipples to assure that they still stood tall.
        Approaching his target from the side, Mike grasped Matt's dick, by this time leaking pre-cum, and licked the head of it repeatedly, savoring the sweet taste.  Leaving Matt hungry for more attention to his cock, Mike moved down and began licking behind his big balls.  Raising his partner's pelvis a bit, his tongue explored the area between his balls and his sphincter until, wanting more, he turned Matt over. He parted his ass cheeks, and began licking, probing and sucking Matt's sweet, almost hairless hole, glorying in the musky, masculine smell his lover exuded.  Mike's tongue was loath to leave its sanctuary as he probed deeper and deeper.  By now Matt's precum was really flowing, forming a small puddle on the sheet under him.
        Eventually, nowhere near sated, Mike turned Matt back over and deep throated his cock, glistening with precum, several times.  Then he put Matt's muscular legs over his shoulders, and guiding his own dick to his lover's damp and ready hole, probed at the doorway until the head popped in.  Considerately, he waited for Matt to be comfortable accommodating him, then followed up with a long series of small thrusts until at last his pubes were against his partner's bottom.  He was exultant.  He was home.
        "I love you, Matt," Mike said simply as he bent down and kissed his brother's waiting mouth, tongues battling, and then began the long and deliberate thrusts that incrementally increased Matt's sexual tension until he was sweating and sighing deeply.  Knowing his brother's body well, Mike quickly found his partner's prostate where it pulsed near his tunnel, and massaged it repeatedly with the head of his penis.  Matt groaned every time Mike hit its target, and now his precum was puddling in his navel and on his abs.  Mike bent down periodically and licked it up, captivated by the taste of it.
        Mike was a master cocksman, and sensing whenever Matt was going to cum, he slowed and varied his invasion until his partner came down from the brink, only then to resume the thrusts that brought him again to the heights.  Matt tried to take his own dick and stroke it in time to Mike's thrusts, but Mike pushed his hands away and pinned them down.  Matt unconsciously grabbed fistfuls of the sheet, and held on for dear life.
        Both young men were breathing heavily and sweating profusely.  Freeing his hands, Matt reached up and squeezed Mike's nips hard, pinching them between his fingernails, trying to stimulate him to shoot so that he could cum, as well.  He also began consciously to relax his chute with each thrust his partner made, and squeeze hard with each withdrawal.  Almost overwhelmed with pleasurable feelings, Mike continued thursting unabated into his partner's ass, his back locked.
        "Mike..." Matt said gutterally, "please let me..."
        Mike wordlessly said no, but he did push Matt's legs forward and lie down on Matt's torso so that the latter's dick was trapped between their chests and abs, and thus stimulated with each of Mike's thrusts.
        At the point that Matt was ready to scream with frustration and sexual tension, Mike suddenly raised upright and Matt could feel copious ropes of his brother's cream shooting up his ass.  One stroke on his own overheated dick, and it too began to spew cum, flying over his head, the first few shots plastering themselves to the headboard of the bed.  Continuing to spurt, Matt's face was painted, and then his chest bathed in the thick, glistening fluid.  His ejaculate was thick, and it seemed as if it would never stop flowing.
        Mike finally stopped thrusting and fell forward on his partner, kissing him, and then collapsed limply, cheek to cheek with Matt.  Both of them were breathing in great, ragged, uneven gasps.  Neither moved a muscle for a good five minutes.  Mike's penis softened and fell away from his brother.  Great clots of cum coursed from Matt's rectum, puddling on the bedsheet.
        As Mike began to emerge from his post-coital coma, he cleaned the spunk from Matt's face with his fingers, and fed it to his partner.  Raising up on his arms, he used his tongue to move the cum around on Matt's torso, and then sucked it all into his mouth. When it was gone, leaving Matt's chest glistening only with saliva, he slid off of his brother and lay beside him, holding him as if there were no tomorrow.
        They did not speak.  Their love for each other, so keen it almost pained them, said everything.
        They lay holding each other, looking into one anothers eyes, until sleep carried them off side by side, fulfilled and content.
                                                     *  *  *
        Matt awakened first the next morning, and lay silent and unmoving in the disheveled bed, aromatic with the smell of male sex.  He smiled, remembering the height and depth of their passion, surpassing any level they had ever achieved before.  His eyes caressed Mike's face and chest as he lay breathing quietly.
        The Lord is kind and good, he thought to himself.  There is no other explanation for the foretaste of heaven he was experiencing loving Mike and being loved by him.  Mike and the twins were the gifts of abundant life that God had given him.  He continued to lie there, silently rejoicing.
        His thoughts drifting, it occurred to him that he and Mike should to do something today that the boys would enjoy.
        This last week, and Matt was pleased that Mike had been able to witness it, the twins had matured from talking in sporadic, disjointed words and phrases to speaking in complete sentences.  Nothing complex, but real sentences.  They were actually conversing with their dad and uncle and each other.  It was scary how fast they were growing.  It was just one more piece of evidence attesting to the fact that whether you're in control of your life or not, enjoying it or not, it keeps moving on.
        Sliding out of bed so as not to awaken Mike, Matt picked up his jockies from beside the bed, slipped them on, and went into the adjoining bedroom where Matthew and Michael were sitting in their respective cribs, talking quietly to each other.
        "Daddy!" Michael said, and Matthew stood up and held up his arms to be picked up.
        "Hi, guys!" Matt greeted them.  "Did you sleep tight?"
        "Yes," Matthew said.  "I hafta go peepee."
        "You're such good boys!" Matt said, scooping them both up and carrying them to the bathroom.  Removing their diapers, he put Matthew on the potty chair and Michael right on the toilet.  They emptied their bladders immediately.
        "You guys are doing so well.  I'm really proud of you," Matt told them.  "Do you want breakfast first, or do you want a bath."
        "I'm hungry right now," Michael said, leaving no doubt.
        Matt put their diapers back on them, and one on each arm, carried them to the kitchen.  He put them in their highchairs.
        "Well, what would you like to eat this morning?" he asked.
        "Eggs 'n juice, Dad," Matthew said with certainty.
        "Yeah, eggs 'n juice," Michael repeated.
        "OK, how do you want your eggs?" Matt asked.
        "With toast," Michael said.  "You know, runny."
        Matt chuckled to himself.
        "Do you want a little bacon with that?"
        "Yes!"  Matthew smiled and clapped his hands.
        "All right, then, it's eggs over easy with bacon.  I'll give you your juice while the eggs are cooking, 'K?"  Matt went to the refrigerator and poured two small glasses of orange juice and gave them to the twins.
        Looking up, Matt saw Mike standing in the doorway in his boxers, smiling broadly.
        "Morning, Uncle Mike," Matt said, and went over and kissed him, giving his chest an appreciative rub before stepping away.
        "Hi, Unk Mike!" the boys said together.  Mike went over and kissed each of them on top of the head.
        "You guys started without me," Mike complained.
        "No, we didn't, Unk Mike.  It's not even cooked yet," Michael said.
        "All right, then, can I help?"
        "Please help, Unk Mike," Michael said, looking at his dad.  "I'm hungry."
        "I guess that's my cue," Mike said, laughing.  "An uncle's work is never done."
        Matt put on the coffee and fixed the toast, and Mike cooked.  Before long they had the boys and themselves fed, and carted the young ones off for a bath.  Esconced afterward in their playpen, the boys began playing quietly while Matt and Mike went to shower.  They held each other under the invigorating spray while the remnants of last night's glorious coupling washed down the drain.
        "Last night was special," Mike said as he washed Matt's back.  "It was intense.  Thank you," he said.
        "You were intense," Matt responded.  "You are intense.  I'll never forget how you made me feel last night for the rest of my life."
        Mike rested his chin on Matt's shoulder from behind, kissing his neck, arms encircling his partner's chest.
        "Listen, before you give me a woody and we hafta go back to bed, why don't we pack a lunch and take the boys and Breakers out to that park in the country where we had such a good time with the family last time they were here?" Matt asked.
        "Great idea, actually," Mike agreed.  "It's supposed to be sunny today and warmer than usual for this time of the year.  It should be perfect."
        The plan set, they finished showering and before long, after throwing together the necessities, had Breakers and the boys in the Blazer and they were on their way.  Traffic out of the city going west was light at that time of day, and about 40 miles out they got off the tollway and went to the back roads.  They were at their destination in a little over an hour.
        The park was practically deserted.  They picked out a grill toward the back of the area to cook their hotdogs, and unpacked the cooler and their human and animal cargo.  The twins and Breakers were thrilled at the sheer space of the place, and immediately began exploring with Matt and Mike keeping an eye peeled for their whereabouts.  Mike covered the table with a sheet anchored down with their cooler, and spread a blanket in the warm sun.
        Matt retrieved the boys and the dog, and they all sat down together on the blanket.
        "Daddy, let's walk," Matthew said.
        "We'll walk in, hmmm, say, 10 minutes.  OK?  Uncle Mike and I need to rest," Matt told him.
        "It'll be too late, then," Michael chimed in.  "We should go now.  Please?"
        "It won't be too late," Mike told the twins.  "We haven't even built the fire to cook hotdogs yet."
        Matthew pointed at the sun, not yet directly overhead.
        "Look," he said, "it'll be dark soon.  Breakers wants to go now."
        Matt and Mike looked at each other and had to laugh.
        "They're little manipulators, just like you," Matt said.  "How did they get your genes?"
        "I dunno.  But you taught me everything I know about manipulating, lawyer man," was Mike's rejoinder.
        " 'K, guys," Matt said to the boys.  "We'll walk now.  Then we'll come back and play with the ball, all right?"
        "Yaah!" the boys shouted, and clambered to their feet.  Breakers danced around happily.  Matt got up and extended his hand to Mike, pulling him up.
        "Come on, Uncle Mike, it'll be dark soon." Matt said.
        They picked one of the paths at random.  The boys were definitely walking, not toddling anymore, and they moved along at a good pace.  The path meandered through a meadow and then some groves of trees, and included a bridge over a sizable creek at one point.  The boys were fascinated by the rushing water, and gleefully threw stones into it.  Matt and Mike showed off their ability to skip flat stones across the stream.
        "Matt, you've done a terrific job with these boys," Mike said out of the blue.
        "Thanks, but whaddaya mean?"
        "You're doing all the right things, the way you're bringing them up."
        "Like?"
        "Well, the child development people say that parents are supposed to do exactly what you're doing, particularly in the first three years," Mike said.  "Like you reserve time every day for each of them as individuals and don't let anything interfere with that, you read to them, you talk to them a lot, you're physically demonstrative with your love, you set good guidelines for behavior, you maintain good discipline without being hurtful...I just think you're one great father.  You've built bridges of love to these boys that will last as long as you're on this earth. I'm sure that's what Mom and Dad did with you and Jeff and Martha, and that explains the family closeness.  I never had that, at least not from my dad.  The amazing thing is that you've accomplished it this as a single parent.  That's hasn't been easy."
        "Hey, buddy, just remember than my single parenting days will soon be behind me, Uncle Mike," Matt said.  "After we're formally partnered and if it's something you want to do, I'd really like it if you adopt the boys."
        "I'd love that.  And I feel really honored that you'd ask me."
        "You gonna share the indescribable glory and misery of parenthood, bro.  I'm not doing this alone, and I'm not letting you off easy."
        Mike didn't respond, but his big smile said it all.
        The twins were tired about a half hour into their trek, so Matt and Mike each picked one up and carried him back to the blanket.  The little ones conked out.  The guys took their own T shirts off, and lay down in the warm sun, holding hands and snoozing a bit.
        Matt woke up, and turned to Mike.
        "The boys and I hafta catch our plane a couple hours after church tomorrow.  I wanna thank you from the bottom of my heart for this week.  I feel as if I have a new lease on life."
        "Sweetboy, it's been pure pleasure," Mike said. "I've loved having you.  The place is gonna seem empty without you all.  The bed's gonna seem especially empty without you in it, by the way.  Anyway, we both have a lot to get done this next month.  I really feel energized now that you're back in my life.  I'm gonna try to have all the renovations to the condo made by the time you and the kids get back.  Fer sure, I want things to be ready by the time Mom and Dad and and Martha make it over here."
        "That sounds great!  Now, you're clear I'm gonna reimburse you for some of the costs, right?"
        "Don't worry about it, dude."
        "Uh huh.  Just don't forget, 'K?" Matt said.
        "Yeah, yeah," Mike muttered back.
        Matt rolled on his side and put his arm across Mike's chest.
        "Since you're being so difficult, now it's joketime."
        "No-o-o," Mike said, trying to sit up.
        Matt shoved him back down.
        "Don't struggle, Doctor, it only makes the procedure more painful!  And you'll wake the kids."
        "You're bad to the bone, you know that?"
        "Funny you should say that," Matt responded. "This story is about getting boned.
        "These two men were cellmates at state penitentiary for nine years.  One day Larry said to Joe,
        "'You know, man, it's been a long time since we had some sex, so you oughta let me screw you.'
        "Joe said, 'Are you crazy?!!'
        "Larry went on to say, 'I promise you that it won't hurt and we'll  flip a coin and see who screws who, first.'
        "So, Joe thought about it for a minute and finally agreed.
        "They flipped a coin and Larry won.  Still having strong reservations, Joe asked,
        "'How will you know if it hurts me or not?'
        "Larry told Joe, 'If it hurts, you start making animal noises,  and I'll stop.  But if it feels good, start singing.'
        "Larry started the insertion and Joe screamed,  Moooooooo.....Moooooooo.....Moooooon River...'"    
        Mike covered his face with both hands.
        "Y'know, you're gonna put me in therapy with this joke shit!  They just keep getting worse!"
        Matt pried his brother's hands from his face, and kissed Mike deeply.
        "You love my jokes, and if it takes a lifetime, I'm gonna make you admit it!"
        "I'd rather kiss a pig!!  Oh gosh.  Is that you or a pig snout I see before me?"
        "I'll put a pig snout where you like it best," Matt said, laughing.
        They hugged each other in pure joy, laughing.
        Letting the boys sleep, they fired up the grill, starting cooking the hotdogs, and set the table with potato salad, condiments and soft drinks.
        When the coals were ready, Mike cooked the hotdogs.  They woke up the twins, and each held one boy on his lap at the  table and fed him as much hotdog, potato salad, canned peaches and bottled water as he could be induced to eat.  When  Matt brought ice cream bars for their dessert out of the cooler, the kids' eyes lighted up.  They  took them politely, and went over and sat on the blanket, chattering away to each other as they consumed them down to the sticks.
        Matt and Mike ate then, gazing at each other reflectively across the table, occasionally reaching down to feed pieces of  hotdog to Breakers.  After they ate their own their own ice cream bars, they packed things up and walked the twins up the  parking lot to a park outhouse and let them relieve themselves.  On their way back to the Blazer, they all had a mock race which the twins proudly won.
        The guys spent a few more minutes relaxing on the blanket talking to the boys, luxuriating in the sun and warm spring breeze. Then they put the dog, the boys and the picnic stuff back in the car, and took off for Chicago before rush hour was upon them.
        Matt decided he was going to fix a special supper for Mike that night, so once in town, they stopped at their friendly  neighborhood grocery to stock up before going home.
        It was only 4:30 in the afternoon, so Matt started separating what clothes he wanted to leave in anticipation of returning to Chicago in a month, and packed the rest so he wouldn't have to do it all the next morning.
        Once the bulk of the packing was finished, Matt and Mike sat in the den with the boys and watched a Disney movie.
        The guys fed and bathed the boys, and then read them their stories and just talked with them for awhile.  Matt started on supper for him and Mike.  It would be a London broil with steamed vegetables and green salad, served with a tart Burgundy, with ice cream for dessert.
        They put the boys to bed, and after grace sat down across from each other in the dining room to eat.
        "After we have our family gathering in June, I'm gonna let Mom and Dad take the kids for a few days while I go to Hartford to see the Bradfords," Matt said.
        "Are you gonna tell them about us?"
        "Yes.  That's the main reason I'm going."
        "What do you think their reaction will be?" Mike asked.
        "I don't know for sure, but I have a premonition about it," Matt admitted.  "I'm not crossing the state line into Connecticut with the boys until I know they're cool about a gay couple raising their grandkids.  Powerful people who are used to being in control don't always understand their limits, and I'm not taking any chances that they might try to kidnap the boys to 'save' them from us."
        "You don't really think they would..."
        "I don't know," Matt said. "Maybe my suspicions are totally unfounded.  I hope so.  But I'm not taking any chances."
        "Now you've got me worried," Mike said with a frown.
        "Don't be," Matt reassured him.  "We're going to establish the boys' residence here in Illinois.  I just don't think it's prudent to put temptation in the Governor's way.  After all, he has the Connecticut State Police at his beck and call.  I don't want to have to go to court to get our kids back if he tries something."
        Mike smiled when he heard the words "our kids."
        They finished eating, cleaned up the kitchen, and then went into the den and curled up together on the couch in the deep silence--no TV, no stereo, no distractions.  Neither spoke or felt the need to speak.  Mike cradled Matt in his arms, caressing his face and his chest.  They were totally at peace with one another as they each looked forward to being together permanently, raising the kids.
                                                
Part 4

    Mike walked through the new construction on his and Matt's condo, now almost completed.  It pleased him.
        The Chicago architect who had been recommended by management at Berman Worldwide Engineering, where his father had once held sway, had proven to be a good choice.  The workmanship was excellent, the pace in completing the job had been right on target, and above all, his wishes with respect to the final product had been scrupulously followed.  He allowed himself a smile, one of the few that had crossed his face since Matt and the twins had returned to school a month ago.
        Where before there had been two penthouse suites on the top floor, now there was one.  The former hallway in the middle of the building had been turned into a foyer, yet to be furnished.  The windows at the lake end of the former common hall were now floor to ceiling, to be covered with heavy draperies which could be closed, if so desired, by flicking an electric switch.
        Where before there had been three elevators opening on to the floor, there was now one, dedicated only to the penthouse floor.  One could achieve access to the penthouse elevator from the downstairs entry hall only if you had an elevator card to swipe, or if you were buzzed up from one of the phones in the condo, or if the doorman pushed the right button at his station.  Otherwise the elevator wouldn't open to admit you.
        A doorway in the foyer hid stairs leading to the roof, where a new private pool awaited only water to make it operational.  There was a recessed hot tub to one side.  Sliding glass walls would enclose the pool for winter use.
        Three bedrooms, each with its own bath, had also been added to the main suite, as well a large playroom with an adjoining bathroom for the twins and an exercise room for Matt and Mike.  The exercise room included a sauna and another hot tub.
        The remodeling had also produced a totally separate, one bedroom apartment, complete with kitchen, small dining area, bathroom and nice size living room.  It had its own entrance off the foyer.  This was for a live-in couple that he and Matt were contemplating hiring for housekeeping, light cooking, and to help them with the kids.
        Another plus, only to be fully appreciated by those who live in an urban area, was that the residents of the penthouse were now entitled to six parking places in the basement garage.
        Mike gave a nod of approval before he went back into the den, deep in thought, and sprawled on the big leather couch.
        Despite the fact that Mike had been busy with final exams during the last month since Matt and the boys had taken off for the airport to go back to school, time had dragged for him.  Mike and Matt had talked every day, as Mike had with Jeff every night at the appointed hour, but Mike missed his family.  Wrapping things up at school for the year had made the last month bearable for Mike, but barely so.
        Several weeks ago Mike had talked with the Mayor of Chicago about the possibility of Jeff's lifeguarding again this summer for the Park District, and after chatting about family for a bit, the Mayor said for Jeff to expect a call from the District telling him when to report for a physical.
        Jeff and Martha were due to arrive in two days in Jeff's truck, on Saturday morning, with Mom and Dad flying in on Saturday night.  Matt and the twins, also driving, were supposed to come in sometime on Sunday.  Matt had told Mike on the phone that closing down his apartment--deciding what to keep and what to discard--had taken a lot out of him, especially since some of the items requiring a decision had been very special to Sarah.  He told Mike that the whole process of moving had evoked some tough emotions to deal with, but at the same time helped bring additional closure to his former life with his wife.
        Matt also told Mike that although the kids had been glad to see familiar faces back at school, they kept asking for "Unk Mike."  Matt had used a large calendar to show them, as together they crossed off days one by one, how soon they'd be back with their uncle in Chicago.  Mike loved the boys dearly, and was deeply touched to know that the feelings were reciprocated.
        Two days later, as expected, Jeff and Martha arrived in Chicago at the apartment about noon.  Mike was thrilled to hear Martha's voice on the phone when he buzzed them upstairs, and met met them at the elevator with open arms, hugging them tightly and kissing them.  He was surprised when his eyes momentarily filled with tears, which he tried to hide from his brother and sister.
        Jeff was more handsome than ever, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and Martha was clearly a knockout in the looks department, her dark beauty looking so much like their mother that Mike's breath caught in his throat for a minute.  She was wearing a cute sun dress, and Jeff was clad in khaki cargo shorts and a knit shirt, open at the neck, that showed off his great physique, with a U Penn baseball cap perched on his head.
        Breakers barked and danced around, greeting the guests in his own way.
        "Jeez, you guys look great!  I'm so glad to see ya!" Mike said.
        "Dude among dudes," Jeff responded.  "Lookin' good, my man!"
        "Mike, I've missed you," Martha said simply, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Mike a second time.
        He got them each settled in one of the new bedrooms, and then he and Jeff went down to the lobby to borrow the doorman's cart for the luggage.  Jeff's truck, parked in front of the building, was all washed and shined up, still in cherry condition.  After the cart was loaded with luggage, Mike turned it over to the doorman to take upstairs and he rode shotgun while Jeff pulled the truck into the underground garage.
        They rode the elevator back upstairs, discussing school and the strain of getting through finals.
        The three of them sat talking about family things for awhile, and then Mike finally alluded to the invisible elephant sitting in the room with them.
        "Jeff, you clean?"
        Mike and Martha looked at their brother impassively.
        "Yep," Jeff averred, looking Mike right in the eye.
        "That's good," Mike said.  "I've never known you to lie to me, ever.  If you're clean, there's no way you'd lie to me now.  If you're dirty, you understand there's no way you wouldn't lie to me."
        "I'm not lying, Mike," Jeff said patiently.
        " 'K," Mike said.  "Now, don't be mad at me, but I'm gonna arrange for one of my colleagues at school to give you a complete physical, just so we get off on the right foot for the summer."
        "I'm gonna get a physical from the Park District before I go to work, so why do you want another one?" Jeff asked.
        "Those Park District exams are pretty perfunctory, to be honest," Mike responded.  "They might not see the signs of what I'm concerned about."
        "Which is...?"
        "Don't play me, bro," Mike said.  "Specifically, I'm looking for tracks."
        "Aw, shit!" Jeff spat out.
        "I love ya, Jeff, but you're definitely on probation with me until I say you're not.  Do we understand each other?" Mike asked.
        "Yeah," Jeff said sullenly, looking at the floor.
        Martha sat quietly, a small smile of approval on her lips that she made sure Jeff didn't see.
        "Well," Jeff said, "can't you do the physical yourself?  I rather have you do it than go to a stranger."
        "Yeah.  But I wasn't sure you would be comfortable with that, to be honest," Mike said.
        "You've seen everything I got many times, so let's do this before Mom and Dad and Matt get here.  I don't want them dumping on me, too."
        " 'K, but I'm not dumping on you, dude.  If you've been a good boy, this summer is gonna be pure pleasure for ya.  Really.  I guarantee it."
        "All right, then.  Where do ya wanna do this?"
        "Go on back to my bedroom.  Put on my robe after you undress, and I'll get my stuff."
        Jeff got up without a word and headed toward Mike's bedroom.  Mike looked at Martha, who smiled back at him.
        "As far as you know, he's been clean?" Mike asked quietly.
        "Yeah, I think he's been straight since the big blowup," Martha said.  "But I'm glad you're doing this, Mike, if for no other reason than Jeff needs to know who's calling the shots while he's here.  You know how headstrong he can be."
        "Yeppers," Mike laughed.  "Family trait.  Listen, thanks again for letting me know what was going on.  You probably saved his life.  I just hope he appreciates it some day.  Does he think you ratted him out?"
        "No, not really.  And I think he knows Matt and I, especially Matt, won't take any crap on this particular topic."
        Mike slid over on the couch and put his arms around his sister.
        "You done good, sis," and he kissed her cheek.  "When I'm finished with Jeff, why don't we go to the grocery store so we can fix a good supper for Mom and Dad."
        " 'K.  I'm gonna go unpack so everything won't get wrinkled," Martha said.
        They stood up and had another good, long hug.
        When Mike walked into his bedroom, Jeff was sitting on the bed in Mike's bathrobe, still wearing his Nikes and sweat socks.  The rest of his clothes were sitting on the bed.
        "Lose the shoes and socks," Mike ordered.
        Jeff scowled, but did as he was told.
        Mike pressed a stethoscope to Jeff's chest, listening intently to his heartbeat. Switching the instrument to Jeff's back, he had him breathe deeply for him.  Then, after sliding up the sleeve of the robe, he put on a blood pressure cuff on Jeff's arm, pumped it up, and gradually released the pressure, watching the gauge and listening for the blood to resume pumping.  Then he checked Jeff's arm and leg reflexes with a small rubber mallet.
        Donning rubber gloves, Mike took a tongue depressor and cradling Jeff's chin, shining a light in Jeff's mouth to examine his throat and tongue, followed by his eyes.  He had him stretch his arms out, and then with eyes closed, touch his nose.  Then, using an otoscope, he checked his ears.
        "Stand up," Mike said.  "I'm going to check your groin on both sides for a hernia."  Pulling back the robe after Jeff stood, he gently slipped his hand in turn up each of his brother's thighs next to his large ball sack, and had him turn his head and cough.  Jeff's big, cut dick, at least 6½ inches soft with a large head, lay quietly in repose on his massive, low-hanging testicles.  He'd obviously been blessed in the cock and balls department.
        "All the basics are lookin' good, Jeff.  Now I need to check your skin.  Take off the robe and lie down on the bed on your back, please," Mike instructed.  Jeff did.
        Despite his commitment to demean himself professionally, Mike couldn't help noting that he was looking down at one of the most perfect male specimens he had ever seen.  From the top of Jeff's head and the chiseled features of his face to the tip of his toes, every plane and contour of this young man's body was perfect.  He was absolutely ripped.  Jeff's torso tapered in a V from broad shoulders to a 31 inch waist.  He was almost hairless except for his head, armpits, and a light treasure trail leading to abundant pubes, although his legs were dusted with hair, unlike Matt's.  Big hands, long, square fingers, husky, muscled legs and huge feet completed the picture.
        Swallowing hard and refocusing on the task, Mike began to examine every square inch of skin on the front of Jeff's body, starting first with his feet between the toes and moving up.  When he had completed the front side, he had Jeff turn over and did his backside, looking particularly behind the knees for puncture marks.  His butt, Mike noticed, was in perfect proportion to the rest of his body.
        "Jeff, I don't know how you baseball players end up with such good physiques.  You don't do anything but stand around during a game."
        "Shut up."
        When he was finished with the skin exam, Mike breathed a sigh of relief.  No puncture marks.  Like Matt's, Jeff's skin was blemish free and glowing.
        " 'K, bud, get dressed."
        "Well?" Jeff demanded as he shucked the robe and stepped into his jockeys and started putting on the rest of his clothes.
        "You're clean, dude.  You don't know how happy that makes me!" Mike said, smiling.  "You're in excellent health.  But I do see one spot on your back I want to have a dermatologist look at.  You're pretty young to have to worry about a melanoma, but you were out in the sun an awful lot last summer, so let's just play it safe."
        " 'K.  Is this shit over for good now?" Jeff asked.
        "Well, no.  I want you to talk to someone about why you used H in the first place."
        "I told you why, Mike."
        "I know.  This is for you, man, really.  I think you need to find out why you've been attracted to substances.  And if there's any unfinished business with the family, including me, somewhere in the mix, this will put it on the table.  'K?"
        Jeff sighed deeply as he finished tying his shoes.
        "Do this for me, Jeff, and really cooperate, and I promise not to put any other demands on you this summer except to stay clean and come to church with us," Mike said.  "I love ya bigtime, bro, and I owe you my life.  I haven't forgotten what you did for me, and I'm just trying to do the best I can for you."
        "I know," Jeff admitted, standing and pulling Mike into a hug.  Mike sensed that Jeff was shedding a big load of resentment in offering that hug, and that made him happy.
        "We're cool, then?" Mike asked.
        "More than cool," Jeff said, and he put his arm across Mike's shoulders as they walked back to the den.
        "Will he live?" Martha asked, as she looked up from the couch.
        "Oh, yeah, Mart, he'll live to cause a lot of trouble yet," Mike said, grinning.  He almost added that Jeff was too cute to die anytime soon, but he refrained.
        "Jeff, give me five minutes to show you some pictures I got from school recently, then we're totally done," Mike continued, talking fast, not waiting for Jeff to assent.  "Martha, you should look at these, too.  These are copies of some scans--MRI's, CAT's, and SPECT's--that show the effect of substance abuse on the dopamine and seratonin receptors of the brain.  Those are the parts of the brain that keep us feeling good emotionally and give us a sense of well-being."
        "What's a SPECT?" Martha asked.
        "'Single Positron Emission Computerized Tomography,'" Mike said.  "Anyway, the brain mostly looks smooth and white when it's healthy, as in these shots here.  Now look at the brain in these other shots when there's been substantial abuse of alcohol, caffeine, marijuana, cocaine, crack, heroin or amphetamines.  The big, dark holes show you where the dopamine and seratonin receptors have been almost completely destroyed.  That's why an addict has to keep using more and more of a substance over time to get the same effect.  The receptors can recover somewhat over a long period after abuse stops, but there's never a complete recovery.  The brain mass of abusers physically shrinks in size, too."
        Jeff and Martha looked at the pictures wordlessly as they passed them back and forth.
        "Jeff, I know you think Matt is totally nuts on the subject of substance abuse, but the fact is, for whatever reason, he lurched uncontrollably into the truth," Mike said. "He's been absolutely right all along from a physiological standpoint.  Substance abuse is a brain disease."
        Jeff sat back on the couch, lips pressed together, saying nothing.
        "I'm not trying to scare you straight, guys, because I know that doesn't work," Mike said, putting the pictures back in a pile. "Actually, sometimes knowing too many facts seems to cause the very behaviors that professionals are trying to prevent.  Of course, that won't be true in your case, Jeff."  Mike locked eyes with his brother.  "But I thought you should see these anyway."
        Silence.
        "Jeez, now I need a beer," Jeff said finally, looking at Mike slyly out of the corner of his eye.
        The three of them broke up.
        "All right, guys," Mike said, "let's saddle up and go buy some food, just in case Mom and Dad don't get fed on the plane tonight.  And you know they won't."
        They all stood up.
        "Thanks for caring so much, Mike," Martha said.
        Jeff remained quiet and looked thoughtful.
        "No problem," Mike said, grabbing his wallet and keys, and they started to leave.  Breakers watched them go with sad eyes.  At the last minute, Mike relented, held the elevator door open, and called for him to come with them.  The dog was ecstatic.  He loved car rides.
                                                     *  *  *
        Mike, Jeff and Martha were sitting in the den that evening talking and listening to music when the telephone rang.  Their mom and dad were downstairs, and Mike buzzed them up.  He let Martha and Jeff greet them first, and was totally unprepared for what happened next.
        As he put his arms around his parents, much to his embarrassment, and without warning, he burst into tears.  There was no hiding it this time.
        "I'm sorry..." he choked out.  "I don't know what's the matter with me.  I'm just so glad to see you..."
        "My Mike," Jane Broman said, kissing him.  "My sweet Mike.  We've missed you so much, sweetheart."
        Justice Broman cleared his throat but said nothing, kissing Mike's cheek, and holding him tight.  Ashamed of his own display of emotion, Mike avoided looking at Jeff and Martha, who were staring at him with concern.
        Mike extricated himself from the group hug, pulled out his handkerchief, and dried his face, pulling himself together.
        "You both look wonderful!  How was your flight?" he asked.
        "It was good, son," Justice Broman said in his deep voice.  "We had a little stackup over Chicago, but that's par for the course these days."
        "Well, it's really good to have you here," Mike said.  "I'm grateful you came, especially since I know how much you both miss being home together.  Dad, with your schedule, I know you don't get back there nearly enough."
        "Don't worry about that, Mike," the judge said.  "It's the people that make a place what it is."
        "Home for us is where you kids are, Mister, and don't you forget it!" Jane Broman said with certainty, wiping an errant tear from Mike's cheek with her thumb.
        "Well, let's get you settled.  Let me get your bags and show you your room, and then we'll take the twenty-five cent tour.  You won't recognize the place now, Mom."
        Mike and Jeff grabbed their bags, and away they all traipsed off to one of the new bedrooms, now furnished with beautiful antique dressers and tables, several overstuffed chairs, an entertainment center, and a huge king size bed.
        "Did you eat yet?" Mike asked after they got them situated.
        "Peanuts on the plane," Justice Broman complained.  "And they were stale."
        "How does a steak, baked potato and salad sound?" Mike asked.
        "Perfect," the judge said.  "Mom?"
        "It sounds wonderful, Mike," Jane Broman said.  "Do you need some help?"
        "Nope. Everything's under control.  Jeff and Martha, would you guys mind getting a glass of wine for Mom and a drink for Dad, and then showing them the rest of the place?  If you'd like a drink, too, help yourselves.  I'll be in the kitchen."
        "Sure," Jeff assented, a little surprised at Mike's trust level in offering him a drink after their previous conversation that day about substances. Brother Mike was way full of surprises, he thought to himself.  Justice Broman looked at Mike quizzically, but said nothing.
        Mike fired up the gas grill out on the balcony, and busied himself in the kitchen.  Before long they were all at the dining room table and ready to eat.  Mike put his dad at the head of the table with Mom to his right, and they joined hands while Justice Broman returned thanks for the food and for family.  They all ate as if there were no tomorrow, and it was good.  Breakers had already become especially attached to Martha, and he lay at her feet gazing at her with his big brown eyes, wanting a piece of steak.  When nobody was looking, she snuck him a small piece.
        While they all ate, their mom and dad questioned Mike, Jeff and Martha about school and how their finals had gone.  They all felt they had done well, and Martha told them she was sticking with the science courses that would prepare her for veterinary school.  Everyone applauded her decision.
        "Michael, are you sure you want to be a doc?" his dad asked him as they finished eating.  "You'd make a great chef!  This was a good meal!"
        "Thanks.  But we're not done yet," Mike said.  "There's cheesecake with strawberry topping for those who want some."
        "Me, me, me," Jeff said plaintively, raising his hand as the family laughed.
        "My growing boy," Jane Broman said, eying Jeff with a smile.  "You're so handsome, Jeff.  You look just like your dad did at your age."
        "Are we looking at the same person?" Martha asked, acting incredulous.
        "Shut up, Martha," Jeff said, embarrassed.
        " 'K, bro, come help me," Mike said to Jeff, rescuing him and heading for the kitchen.
        Mike got the cheesecake out of the refrigerator along with a bowl of strawberries and juice, and set about cutting the cheesecake as Jeff held the plates.  Jeff added the sauce.
        "Mike, this is so great," Jeff said as they worked.  "Thanks."
        "What?  The cheesecake?"
        "No, you dweeb!  Getting us all together like this.  I'm loving it."
        "Me, too, dude.  Me, too."
        Finishing up in the kitchen, they carried the plates into the dining room, and the meal concluded on a good note.
        Then Mike led them into the living room, and opened the drapes on the panorama of Lake Michigan.  Lights from the boats bobbed far below, the water bathed in light from an almost-full moon.  Jeff brought his dad a cognac and his mother some Kahlua.  While the others pulled chairs to the huge window, Martha and Mike went to clear the table and load the dishwasher.
        Later they sat in the den, the elder Bromans on the couch and kids in chairs pulled around the coffee table, and talked for several hours.  Mike drew out his mom and dad especially about their work and what they had been doing for fun.  It was obvious that they all enjoyed one another's company thoroughly.
        About 10 p.m., Jeff and Martha excused themselves and headed to bed after kissing their parents goodnight.  Mike stayed.
        "Jeff looks good," Justice Broman said to Mike after Jeff and Martha had gone.  "Is he?"
        "I think so," Mike said.  "I gave him a physical this afternoon, and I really looked hard for track marks or any other signs of abuse.  There's nothing to indicate he's using, and he's in great shape.  I'm feeling optimistic."
        Jane Broman let out a sigh of relief.
        "Good call on tactics, then, Mike," his dad said, smiling.  "You handled everything well, and we owe you a lot.  Thank you."
        "I can't believe you're thanking me.  I wouldn't have a life at all if it weren't for this family, so please don't thank me.  You know how I feel about Jeff and all of you.  I'm the one who's grateful."
        "You're heart of our heart, Michael.  We love you," Jane Broman said softly.
        Mike felt peace and contentment, and he smiled from ear to ear.  Only Matt and the boys were needed to complete the picture.
                                                     *  *  *
        They all went to the 11:00 a.m. mass at St. Stephen's as a family the next morning, and then went back to the condo for brunch.
        Mike was starting to pace from one side of the den to the other by the time Matt and the twins arrived about 2 o'clock that afternoon.  When the phone rang, it wasn't the voice he'd expected.
        "Unk Mike?"  Not one, but two tiny little voices trilled in his ear.
        "I'll be right down," Mike said into the phone, and took off running for the elevator, much to the amusement of the rest of the family, who followed him into the foyer to await the new arrivals.
        When the elevator door opened on the main floor, there stood a smiling, handsome Matt with a twin holding on to each hand.  Mike scooped up the boys and covered their little blond heads with kisses as they laughed and squirmed.  He put them down as they stepped on the elevator, and grabbed Matt tightly and wanted to drown himself in those big, brown eyes.  Then they planted their lips together in a kiss that lasted all the way up to the penthouse floor, holding each other tightly.
        "It took ya long enough to get here!" Mike complained as they disengaged and the elevator door opened.
        "You're lookin' so-o-o good to me, dude!" Matt said to him, and then he and the twins were overwhelmed by the onslaught of wall-to-wall family.  They all gravitated to the den with everyone talking at once.  The twins drew most of the attention, and Matt and Mike were glad, because they had eyes for no one but one another.  Jane Broman caught them looking at each other, and smiled to herself.  Matt and Mike were positively glowing.
        That night after Grandma and Grandpa bathed the twins and put them to bed, Matt and Mike kissed the boys goodnight and went to their own bedroom.  They stripped and climbed into bed, lying on their sides facing each other.
        "I want you so bad," Matt said after a few minutes of silence, "but even without sex, just getting to look at you beside me in this bed and hold you--well, it thrills the hell out of me, Mike.  You're beautiful.  I love you so much, and I've missed you every minute of every day we've been apart."  He reached over and caressed Mike's hair back off his forehead.
        Mike said nothing at first, but moved his head closer to smell Matt's hair and touch his face.
        "I love you, too," Mike said, and then added, totally out of left field, "You have your own special smell, y'know.  So darned wholesome.  Sort of the human equivalent of fresh baked bread.  It was the first thing I fell in love with when we started rooming together back at school, the smell of you.  Well, that and your beautiful bod, of course.  But when I smell your body, it takes me back in an instant to when I was trying so hard not to fall in love with you.  Thank goodness that was a lost cause."
        They regarded each other again in silence, knowing without reaching down that they were each hard as a rock.
        "I'm so horny I know I'm gonna explode the second we touch each other," Mike said, "just like the last time we were separated.  So...69 with me again.  I want to taste your cum in my mouth.  Just hold my dick in your mouth quietly to make it last as long as possible, and I'll do the same, cause I know I'm ready to shoot."
        " 'K," Matt said, and they positioned themselves, each taking the other's rigid cock in his mouth.  Matt felt Mike's soft breath on his balls, and tasted his sweet pre-cum.  The pressure began building with next to no stimulation, and soon Matt began to ejaculate copiously as Mike simultaneously unloaded thick ropes of cum into his partner's mouth.  They both drank down the abundant spunk, and after licking one another clean, Matt re-situated himself at the head of the bed.  They kissed deeply, clinging together and tasting the other's unique essence.
        "Once again, I give us an 'F' on foreplay, but 'A' for satisfaction," Matt chuckled as they spiraled down from their high.
        Mike smiled and nestled his head into the crook of Matt's neck.  They were almost instantly asleep, not awakening until morning.
        The next few days were like heaven for both of them, having the people that they cared most about in all the world around them.  Each of them went out of his way to set aside some quality time with their parents and siblings.  Mike went shopping with his mom and Martha to buy more furnishings for the condo, and Matt and his dad went over to the Northwestern School of Law, where Matt had indeed been accepted as a transfer student for his final year.  Justice Broman knew many of the professors there, and renewed old friendships over lunch.  The Dean complimented Matt on his academic record, and told him how pleased they were to have him complete his J.D. degree with them.  Mike took his mom and dad and Jeff down to the medical school, and showed them around, and introduced them to the Dean and to his faculty adviser.  Both physicians praised Mike to the skies.
        The whole family went over to the Hospice to visit the Sisters, who were happy to see everyone again, and heaped attention on the twins.  Sister Angeline took them on a refresher tour and showed them all the improvements that the Broman endowments had permitted.  Hospice was in much better financial shape than ever before.  Matt and Mike got permission to spend a few minutes visiting with a few residents pointed out by Sister Catherine as those who never had visitors, and they tried to brighten their day a bit.  Matt wondered to himself whether he would do any better now in working with the dying than he did when he was working there before.  He wasn't sure.
        At home, naturally, the twins were the apples of their grandparents' eye, and were lavished with attention every waking moment.  Grandma and Grandpa wanted to baby-sit without respite.  That being the case, Jeff and Martha joined Matt and Mike and Breakers on their beach run on Monday and Tuesday, Martha holding her own very nicely with her brothers.
        Jeff reported to the Park District for his physical on Tuesday afternoon, and passed with no problem.  Justice Broman telephoned the mayor to thank him for his intervention in helping Jeff get the lifeguard job again, and they talked for a long time.
        Tuesday night, Matt and Mike began planning their impending partnership ceremony in Vermont for August, when the Supreme Court would be on vacation and their dad's schedule had some flexibility.  Only the precise dates would have to be firmed up, and the guys wanted the whole family to be present, if possible.  Mike had determined that their best chance of a followup church ceremony was by the Metropolitan Church pastor in Chicago when they returned from Vermont.  Every family member said he wanted to be at both ceremonies, and just to let them know the dates.  This pleased Matt and Mike no end.
        They also talked about Matt's anticipated trip to Hartford to see his former in-laws and inform them about his plans to raise the twins in a gay partnership.  Matt dreaded the thought of going, and restated his premonition that Governor Bradford was not going to take the news well.  Mike thought he, Mike, should fly with the twins to the Bromans' house while Matt went to Hartford, which would, of course, give Grandma and Grandpa some more time with their grandsons, but then he remembered that such a plan would leave Jeff alone in Chicago, and that wouldn't be a good thing.  Everybody chimed in and settled on dates in August as being the best to kill all the birds with one stone, since the guys would be going East anyway to be formally partnered, and the judge would be on vacation.  But Matt kept thinking he should go to Hartford sooner.  So negotiations continued.
                                                     *  *  *
        The elder Bromans flew back to Washington, D.C., on Wednesday morning, but Mike talked long and hard until Martha agreed to stay until the following week rather than going with them as planned.  He wanted to use more of Martha's decorating skills to put the final touches on the condo.
        Mike put an arm across Matt's shoulders as the limo pulled away for the airport with their parents.
        "I never get to see them enough," he told his sister and brothers as they went back inside.  "I miss them already."
        "Yep yep," Matt told him softly, and kissed his cheek.
        Jeff reported to the Park District for refresher training and beach assignment on Thursday, and seemed relaxed and happy to be going to work.  His siblings began watching his behavior at home like hawks while trying to portray casual indifference, but Jeff was observant enough to know exactly what they were doing.  Instead of being annoyed, though, he accepted it as a sign of their love for him, and ignored the scrutiny.
        Matt and Mike and the twins took Martha to the airport and put her on the plane for home the following Wednesday after she had scored some good deals on more furnishings for the condo the previous week.  She would again be working for a veterinarian located not far from home for the rest of the summer.  Once again, Mike felt a little empty as his sister was whisked off into the sky.  But Matt, Jeff and the boys filled the holes in his universe, and he knew he would be seeing the family again soon.
        Jeff was two weeks into his job when he and Matt were sitting in the den late one afternoon, playing with the kids before Mike returned from a jaunt to the med school to pick up his mail.
        "Uh, Matt, do you think Mike would care if I started dating one of the cute lifeguards I'm working with?" Jeff asked out of the blue.
        Matt chuckled.
        "Not if he's buff," he said.
        "Ha, ha, you're funny!  No, really, this girl is so-o-o hot.  I'd like to take her out."
        "Well, ask him, but I don't think he'll have any problem with that.  You're kinda on probation when it comes to the drug thing, but that doesn't mean you hafta be a monk."
        " 'K.  I will.  Thanks."
        "You're doin' good, bro.  I'm proud of you."
        "Thanks, man.  It's a little hard for me to say this, but I...I really appreciate everything you guys have done for me.  I just want you to know that."
        "You say that to Mike, 'K?  He's been doin' the drivin' on this one.  It'll mean a lot to him."
        " 'K."  Jeff still had a big smile on his face when Mike came through the door.
        "You look cheerful," Mike said to Jeff.  "Do I wanna know why?"
        "Well, I wanna ask you something," Jeff said.
        "Shoot, dude."
        "Would it be all right with you if I date this girl I'm lifeguarding with?"
        Mike grinned and sat down.
        "I don't have any problem with that," he said, "provided you make me a few promises."
        "Like?"
        "Number one, I don't want you drinking and driving.  I don't want you drinking over three beers a day at all, and no hard liquor, but I most certainly don't want you drinking and driving."
        " 'K," Jeff said.
        "Number two, anytime you're gonna be out later than 1 a.m. on a date, I want you to tell me ahead of time or else call me and let me know you're gonna be late.  Don't fuck with me on this, or I'll ground you in a nanosecond."
        "Well, OK," Jeff said.
        "And number three, if this girl or any girl you date uses any substance but alcohol, I want you to stop seeing her pronto.  Am I clear on that?"
        "Yes."
        "And I hope that if you're gonna be having sex, it'll be in a respectful and caring relationship and that you'll use protection."
        "Yes, Dad," Jeff grinned.
        "Listen, buddy, you treat me with the same respect you give Dad on these issues, and we'll get along just fine," Mike said sternly.
        "I will, Mike, I promise."
        "Good."  Mike pulled a card out of his wallet, and handed it to Jeff.  "After work next Tuesday, I want you to go see this guy at the med school.  He a dermatologist, and I want him to look at that spot on your back."
        " 'K"
        "And I'm still looking for a good therapist for you to talk to.  I'll let you know on that."
        "All right," Jeff said, not looking too pleased.
        Mike and Jeff sat in silence looking at each other.
        "Thanks, Mike," Jeff said finally.  "I appreciate what you're doing."
        "That's what brothers are for, dude."
        "I know.  Listen, I need to grab a shower," Jeff said.  "Whaddaya want to do for supper?"
        "You shower, and then we can decide."
        " 'K."  Jeff stood up and headed for his room.
        Matt sat looking at Mike, expressionless, after Jeff left the den.
        "WHAT!!" Mike demanded.
        "You're tough, dude!  You even scared me, and I was just eavesdropping."
        "It's a dirty job, but somebody hasta do it," Mike laughed.  "Don't cross me, or I'll hafta get tough with you, too!  Hmmmm.  Now that I think about it, that's not a bad idea!"
        "Ooooh!  Make it sting, will ya?"
        Mike moved over to the couch, pushed Matt down, and lay down on top of him, face to face.  The twins, always ready for action, ran over and starting climbing all over the two of them.  They all laughed as they mock-wrestled with the little guys and let them win.
        When Jeff came back from his shower, damp and refreshed, the guys decided to order in pizza and beer.  They spent a quiet evening watching a van Damme movie on TV and playing cards and intermittently roughhousing with the twins.
        Jeff decided he wanted to bathe the twins that night and put them to bed, and then all of them turned in early.
        Mike lay in bed watching Matt has he came out of their bathroom from showering, and toweled off, skin glowing.
        "You know, bro," Mike said, thoughtfully eying his partner, "if you had told me, when we first met at school, that a few years down the road I'd be in loco parentis to a hormonally crazed, post pubescent brother who experiments with heavy-duty drugs and has never seen a pair of tits he didn't like, or that I'd be sharing responsibility for raising two little kids, or that I'd be almost married to you, I'd have said you're wack."
        "And...?"
        "I'm loving it."
        Matt slid into bed and turned to his partner, grabbing his own cock and tenting the sheet with it.
        "Here, I have something else for ya to love."
        Mike started to laugh as he ducked under the covers and went for it.
                                                     *  *  *
        Over the next week Matt gave a lot of thought to the visit he needed to make to see his former in-laws in Hartford, and finally decided not to wait until August.  He talked it over with Mike, and they agreed that Matt should take the kids to Washington to visit with their grandparents during the time he went on to Connecticut.  Mike would like to have gone with him, but they both knew that Jeff shouldn't be left alone in Chicago right then.
        When Matt flew out, it seemed like he had half the nursery with him.  He and Mike had talked to the twins a lot about what fun it was going to be to fly again, and they were looking forward to it and prepared to enjoy it fully.  Matt looked back at the Chicago skyline as they turned to fly across Lake Michigan, and felt an empty place in the pit of his stomach as the distance between him and Mike grew.
        The flight arrived right on time in Washington in the mid-afternoon, and Matt grabbed a limo to the Watergate.  The doorman was expecting them, and Jane Broman met them at the apartment door.
        "My babies!  How did you like the big plane?" she asked the twins after kissing Matt and the boys.
        "We were way, way up, Gwamma," Matthew informed her excitedly.
        "In the clouds, sometimes.  It was fun!  We could see things!" Michael chimed in.
        The twins continued to talk excitedly about their latest experience as their grandma got them settled in their room.  The twins would be sleeping together for the first time in a big double bed with pillows around the circumference to keep them from falling out.  Their dad would be right next door in an adjoining room.
        The Supreme Court was working long hours to finish up all their decisions for the term so that they could recess in August, and Justice Broman didn't arrive at the apartment until after 8 p.m.  He looked tired, and Matt's mom fussed over him and fixed his supper while he changed into casual clothes.  After he ate, he went in to see the twins, who were already asleep by the time he walked in the door.
        After his dad had his after-dinner drink and was feeling rested, Matt gave his parents the good news about Jeff, that he seemed to be doing well on the beach, and that he seemed to be properly in awe of Mike and was doing everything he was told.
        "Good!" Justice Broman said with a laugh. "I'm glad somebody can make that boy toe the mark a little, and Mike seems to have his number.  Jeff's a good boy, basically, but at his age he still needs guidance from time to time."
        "Well, Mike's been a godsend," Matt said.  "If I'd have been the one trying to give Jeff his marching orders, he'd have told me to take a flying leap.  But he practically kisses the ground Mike walks on."
        "Mike has a way about him," Jane Broman said.  "He can be very persuasive when he wants to be."
        "Don't I know it!" Matt agreed.  He was silent for a moment.  "Listen, I want to talk to you about the Bradfords."
        "What about them?" Justice Broman asked.
        "Well, you know I've always wanted them to be a part of the twins' lives, and I still do.  But I think the Gov is gonna have a very hard time accepting the fact that Mike and I will be raising them together.  I think Mrs. Bradford will be OK with it, but Mr. Bradford is a pretty macho guy, and I don't think he likes gays very much from a few remarks I've heard him make.  Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I'm afraid this trip may not be too pleasant.  I hafta go, though.  I owe that to Sarah's memory."
        "I agree, son," Justice Broman said.  "This is the right thing to do.  Is there something worrying you other than the possibility of a little unpleasantness?"
        "I'm just hoping that Mr. Bradford won't harbor any ideas about trying to take the kids away from us."
        "You don't think...?" Jane Broman interjected.
        "I have absolutely no basis to think so, Mom.  But the thought has occurred to me."
        "Our Court has said that under normal circumstances, grandparents have only the rights that the parents give them.  And state courts have been very reluctant to rule that homosexuality of a parent is prima facie evidence of unfitness to raise a child.  So I'm not seeing too much of a legal problem here," Justice Broman said.  "Governor Bradford is just going to have to come along kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century, that's all."
        "I hope you're right, dad," Matt said.  "Listen, Mom, are you sure that this isn't too much of an imposition, leaving the kids with you for a couple days?"
        "You know better than that, Matt.  We're going to be in our glory."
        "Jane, why don't you bring them down to the courthouse about lunchtime tomorrow?" Justice Broman asked.  "I want to show them off to the brethren."
        "That sounds like a plan," Jane Broman agreed.
        They talked awhile longer about a variety of subjects, watched the early news, and then went to bed.
                                                     *  *  *
        Matt flew out of Washington for Hartford the next morning at 10 a.m. with only a carry-on bag.  There was a small glitch when gate security thought they saw something suspicious in his bag when they x-rayed it.  They opened his bag and searched it, to find that a small radio had caught their attention.  Matt repacked and was on his way in a matter of minutes.
        After arriving in Hartford, he walked right from the gate to the cab stand, found a cab immediately, and took it to the Hilton Hartford.  It was almost noon, and he knew that the Bradfords liked to have lunch together.  So he had the cab wait for him at the hotel, turned his bag over to the doorman, registered quickly at the front desk, and had the bag sent up to his room.  His cab then took him right to the Governor's mansion, where indeed he caught his former in-laws just preparing to sit down to lunch in one of the small dining rooms.  They weren't alone--there was a small, towheaded boy about the age of the twins in a high chair there as well.
        They all greeted one another warmly, and Mary Bradford had a maid set another place for Matt.  He thought his former mother-in-law looked wan and tired.
        "Matt, this is such a pleasant surprise," Mrs. Bradford said.  "Did you bring the twins?"
        "No, they're in Washington with my mom and dad," Matt said.  "They're growing like weeds, and are doing really well.  You'd hardly know them.  I'd like to have them come down to spend some time with you if we can work it out."  Matt paused, looking at the child.  "And who's this little guy?  I can see a family resemblance."
        "You remember Sarah's brother, Jamie?" the Governor asked.  "This is his son, and he lives here permanently with us."
        "Oh," Matt said, uncertain what to say.  The boy sat quietly in his chair, without animation.
        "Our son, as you may know, is in the Navy," Bill Bradford continued. "He got a girl here in town pregnant before being posted to a ship in the Mediterranean, and we're raising the boy because it's not 'convenient' for his mother to do so.  Jamie is married to someone else now, and neither he nor his new wife wants him around as a reminder."
        "What's his name?" Matt inquired, a little shocked at the older man's bluntness.
        "Kyle," Mary Bradford said.  "He's a dear, sweet child, and we love having him here, don't we, Bill?"
        The Governor grunted sourly and began eating his soup.
        "Hello, Kyle," Matt said softly.  "How are you today?"
        The boy looked at him silently with big, blue eyes.
        Matt went over and sat down beside the boy.  Picking up a spoon, he began to feed him the soup sitting in front of him.  The youngster ate without protest.
        "You don't have to do that, Matt," the Governor said.  "The nanny will be here in a minute to take care of it."
        "I don't mind," Matt said.  "I've had a lot of practice."
        He continued spooning soup into the little guy until the bowl was empty, and then patting the boy's head gently, went back and sat at his own place at the table.  The youngster's eyes followed Matt without blinking.
        "Well, Matt, what prompts your visit?" Mr. Bradford asked between spoonfuls of soup.
        "I have something I need to talk with you about after lunch, if you have a few minutes."
        "I think we can manage that."
        They chatted about inconsequentials during rest of the meal.  Matt broke conversational stride now and again to talk to Kyle, who continued watching him intently.  Before lunch was over, the boy's nanny came into the room, and seeing that the soup was gone, spirited the child away.  The youngster's eyes never left Matt's as he was carried off.
        After lunch, the three of them adjourned to an adjoining sitting room for coffee, and the Governor lit a cigar, exhaling expansively.
        "Now, Matt, what can we do for you?" Mr. Bradford asked.
        "First I want to tell you how much I've appreciated the birthday and Christmas cards the last couple of years.  I know the twins have been in your thoughts and prayers a lot since Sarah died."
        Mary Bradford smiled warmly.
        "We love the boys and you, Matt.  I wish we could see you more often."
        "I know.  My parents say the same thing.  But the reason I came over here was to share some news with you, and I hope you'll be happy for me."
        The Governor blew smoke in the air, and looked at Matt with curiosity.
        "Do you remember my adoptive brother, Mike?  He was here at Sarah's and my wedding."
        "I remember him," Bill Bradford said.  "A fine looking young man.  In medical school, isn't he?"
        "Yes. At Northwestern.  To get to the heart of the matter, he and I are partnering to raise the twins together in Chicago."
        "'Partnering?'"  The governor frowned.  "What the hell does that mean?"
        "It means that Mike and I are in a gay relationship.  We're going to have our partnership registered in Vermont next month, and then blessed in the Metropolitan Church in Chicago."
        Mary Bradford looked startled, and the Governor's face turned bright red.
        "You WHAT!!!?" the older man spat out, slamming down his coffee cup.
        "We love each other, and we both love the children.  I think we can do a good job raising them together," Matt said.
        "You mean a good job making them fucking fruits like you two?  No way, mister.  I won't stand for it."  Bradford wagged his head angrily at Matt.
        "I came here out of friendship and respect for Sarah's memory to tell you my plans.  I'm sorry you're so repulsed by it.  But when push comes to shove, there's nothing you can do about it."
        "You're unfit to raise pigs, you queer!  I can't believe you were married to my Sarah.  I'll get custody of the boys, and we'll raise them right here."
        "Like hell you will!" Matt said, his face coloring.
        "Bill..." Mary Bradford started to say, "I..."
        "Shut up, Mary!  I'll handle this!  Where are you staying, Matt?"
        "The Hilton.  Why?" Matt asked, confused.
        The Governor picked up a telephone on the table beside him, and dialed a number from memory.
        "State Police," a disembodied voice said.
        "Colonel Metzlaar, please," Mr. Bradford said.  "This is the Governor."  He looked balefully over at Matt while the connection was made.
        "Andy, this is Bill Bradford.  I have some good information that I need to have you act upon.  My former son-in-law, Matthew Broman, who's staying at the Hilton, is smuggling drugs.  I want you to get a car over there right now and do a thorough search.  And don't stop searching until you find something, if you take my meaning."
        "Bill, are you sure...?" Metzlaar said.
        "Colonel, do you like your job?  Do as you're told, and get back to me ASAP."  The Governor slammed the phone down.
        Matt stood, alarmed and prepared to leave.
        The Governor also stood up, and went to the door.
        "Baker!!" he shouted into the corridor.
        A young state trooper came trotting down the hall.
        "I want you to detain this man," Bradford said to the officer, pointing at Matt.  "Handcuff him to a radiator if you have to, but keep him here."
        "Sir, what's the charge?" the trooper asked.
        "The charge is open," the Governor said.  "Just do it!"
        "You don't know it," Matt said softly to Mr. Bradford, "but your career as a public servant just came to a screeching halt."
        "You're unfit to raise my grandchildren, you fucking poofter!  I'll do anything to protect my family from people like you.  You like it in the ass so much, just wait until you're behind bars."
        The young trooper took Matt's arm to escort him from the room as Mrs. Bradford left through another door, weeping.  Matt was indeed handcuffed to a radiator in the front hall, where he sat quietly, fearful in spite of himself about what was happening.
        Thirty minutes later the Governor walked into the hall and stood in front of Matt.
        "Detectives just found a kilo of cocaine in your bag at the Hilton, asshole.  You're going away for a long time.
        "Take this jerk down to the station and book him on possession of drugs with intent to distribute," Bradford said to the trooper, who uncuffed Matt from the radiator and recuffed both hands behind his back.
        "You're under arrest," the young trooper said.  "You have the right to remain silent.  If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.  You have the right to speak to an attorney.  If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you without cost.  Do you understand each of these rights as I have read them to you?"
        "Yes," Matt said.
        He was hustled into the back seat of a State Police car, and quickly driven off to a police station, where he was stripped, showered, dressed in a jumpsuit, booked, fingerprinted, photographed, and placed in a holding cell.  He was told that his requests for an attorney would be honored after he was transferred to the county lockup, but that didn't stop a detective from coming in and attempting to interrogate him in the meantime.  Matt refused to answer questions until he could speak with an attorney.
        Later, he and a few other prisoners were loaded into a paddy wagon for transport to the county jail, about a 20 minute trip.  He was placed in a single occupant cell, and given a thin mattress for the steel bed, a threadbare blanket, and a towel.  The stainless steel sink and toilet in the cell were filthy, as was the floor.  The whole place reeked of urine and excrement.
        Matt spread out the mattress and lay down, pulling the blanket over him.  It seemed impossible to sleep with the light in his eyes and all the jailhouse noise.  He panicked for a minute, thinking about Mike and the twins and his family.  Then he pulled himself together, and began to repeat to himself the verses of a Psalm he'd learned by heart during a long-ago summer he had spent with the Anglican Franciscans on Long Island when he was in high school:

      O God, thou art my God; * early will I seek thee.
      My soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh also longeth after thee, *
    in a barren and dry land where no water is.
      Thus have I looked for thee in the sanctuary, *
    that I might behold thy power and glory.
      For thy loving-kindness is better than the life itself: *
    my lips shall praise thee.
      As long as I live will I magnify thee in this manner, *
    and lift up my hands in thy Name.
      My soul shall be satisfied, even as it were with marrow and fatness,*
    when my mouth praiseth thee with joyful lips.
      Have I not remembered thee in my bed, *
    and thought upon thee when I was waking?
      Because thou hast been my helper; *
    therefore under the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.
      My soul hangeth upon thee; *
    thy right hand hath upholden me.
      These also that seek the hurt of my soul, *
    they shall go under the earth.
      Let them fall upon the edge of the sword, *
    that they may be a portion for foxes.  
      But the King shall rejoice in God;
    all they also that swear by him shall be commended;
    * for the mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped.

        Matt prayed for Mike and the twins, for Jeff and Martha, for his mother and father, even for both the Bradfords and for little Kyle Bradford, whose sad little face haunted him for some reason.  Having done so, he fell asleep immediately, not to awaken until morning.
        *  *  *
        The next morning Matt met with a bored and unconcerned public defender for 10 minutes before he was arraigned for possession of cocaine with intent to distribute.  He told her that he had been set up, and she nodded her head politely, having heard that one before.  He pleaded "Not Guilty," and bail was set at $50,000.  Before he was returned to jail, he instructed the public defender to telephone Justice Matthew Broman at the Supreme Court in Washington, and have him contact an attorney in Hartford.  The P.D.'s eyes widened as she glanced again at Matt's file and saw that his name indeed matched that of the Supreme Court justice.  She did as Matt had asked, and before long an aristocratic looking, well dressed, bespectacled attorney showed up at the jail with a bail bondsman, and Matt was soon free.  For the moment.
        The attorney's name was Peter Bell, and he told Matt that he had been in law school with his dad.  That made Matt feel a little better.  They went back to Bell's office, and Matt told the attorney the whole story of what had transpired from the time he walked into the Executive Mansion for lunch to the point at which he fell asleep in jail.  Mr. Bell was incredulous.
        "Matt," he said, "this could really be a tough case to win.  If what you're telling me is true, and I don't disbelieve you, we have a sitting governor and the commander of the Connecticut State Police and his subordinates ready to perjure themselves in court to the effect that you were in possession of a large amount of cocaine.  I don't know where to begin on this, to tell you the truth."
        "Mr. Bell," Matt said, "I want you to know first of all that I have never used illegal drugs in my entire life, other than some underage drinking.  I know that's a little unusual for someone my age, but it's the truth.  I hate drugs with a passion.  Of all the things that Governor Bradford might have used to get me declared unfit to raise my sons, none is more unlikely than the scenario he chose to make up."  Matt fell silent for a moment.  Then his eyes lighted up.
        "You know," he continued, "maybe my bag and how the cocaine allegedly got into it is just the place to start unraveling this thing."
        "How so?" Bell asked.
        "Well, I only had one bag with me on this trip, a carry-on.  When I got ready to board the plane in Washington, security saw a little clock radio I travel with on the x-ray at the gate, and they pulled my bag and searched the whole thing.  They obviously didn't find a kilo of cocaine in it anywhere.
        "When I got to Hartford and disembarked," Matt went on, "I left the airport arrival area immediately and grabbed a taxi.  The arrival time of the plane and the time I climbed in the cab couldn't be more than two or three minutes apart.  The cab company dispatcher should have the time, and I'm sure we can track down the cab driver if we need to.  It was a Yellow Cab.  The cab driver took me right to the Hilton.  I had him wait for me.  I gave the bag to the doorman while I checked in, and a bellman took it right upstairs.  I've never even seen my room there, because I went right from the registration desk and got back in the cab to go to the Executive Mansion.  It seems to me that it would have been pretty difficult for me on that tight a schedule to acquire a kilo of cocaine anytime after arriving in Hartford, and pack it away in my bag."
        "Son, you have what it takes to be a good criminal attorney," Mr. Bell said.  "You're giving me a good start on a workable strategy here."
        "I'll tell you something else," Matt said.  "I don't think Mary Bradford likes what the Governor has done.  I know it's a long shot, but she just may not be willing to perjure herself if she's called to the stand during trial.  She heard her husband tell Colonel, uh, is it 'Metzlaar,' that he should have his people keep searching my room until they found something.  I guess the Colonel must have protested, because the Governor asked him if he liked his job and wanted to keep it, and to get back to him ASAP.  She heard all that, and my read on her is that she won't lie."
        "I'll be damned," Bell said.  "I didn't think Bill Bradford would be this stupid."
        A secretary knocked on the door, and called the lawyer outside.  He came back in a minute, frowning.
        "The State's Attorney just found out who you are, Matt.  He's requested another bail hearing, and the judge is gonna give it to him.  Come on, we have to go back to court.  Y'know, this is really starting to smell."
        "Tell me about it!"
        Back in court, an Assistant State's Attorney asked that Matt's bail be raised to $250,000, pointing out that the Broman family was so wealthy that he could conceivably flee the jurisdiction for foreign climes.  The judge granted the motion, and once more the bail bondsman went into action to set Matt free.  The judge also asked Matt for his passport, but he informed the court it was back in Chicago.  Mr. Bell asked the judge to set a short date for trial, and that request was granted.
        Bell and Matt went back to the lawyer's office, where the attorney immediately contacted a private investigator to start pulling together the facts to verify Matt's story.  He also sent someone over to the Hilton to check Matt out of the hotel, and then registered him in a modest little Day's Inn under an assumed name.  He told him to keep a low profile and to go out only when he needed to eat.
        After Matt left, with his permission, Bell called Justice Broman and laid out the case for him.  Matt's dad was thunderstruck at what had occurred, and let Bell know that any resources needed to defend his son successfully were his for the asking.
        Bell's next call was to State's Attorney Al Shaffer, personally.
        "Al, Pete Bell."
        "Pete!  How are ya?"
        "I'm good.  Listen, I suppose you know that Justice Matthew Broman's son has been arrested for possession of cocaine with intent to distribute?"
        "Yeah, I heard."
        "I'm representing the kid."
        "Well, he's got the best, then."
        "He's Bill Bradford's former son-in-law, did you know that?
        "No."
        "How long have you known me, Al?"
        "Long enough.  Why?"
        "I wanna give you a heads-up.  This was a setup from the git-go, and I'm gonna be able to prove it with no sweat.  I want you to know ahead of time that Bill Bradford and Andy Metzlaar's people set the kid up so Bill could get custody of the grandsons.  Bill could end up going to jail for this, and maybe Andy, too."
        Shaffer sighed.
        "I hate this shit," he said.  "I'll be watching the case, Al.  If you can introduce sufficient evidence, we'll join you in a motion to dismiss.  Then we'll go from there on Bradford and Metzlaar if we have to.  That's all I can tell you."
        "I can't asked for more than that, Al.  Thanks.  See ya."
        They hung up.
        *  *  *
        Before going to his new lodgings, Matt bought a new suitcase, some underwear and some clothes, because his bag was now in the evidence room at the State Police headquarters.
        Ensconced in his new room, Matt lay down on the bed with the phone on his chest and dialed his partner in Chicago.  A very distraught-sounding Mike answered the phone. Matt started at the beginning and told Mike everything that had transpired thus far in Hartford.  Mike was obviously afraid for him and wanted to come to Hartford right away, but Matt calmed him down and persuaded him he needed to stay with Jeff, as they had planned.
        "Matt..."
        "Mike, I love you.  I have the truth on my side, bro.  I have a good attorney.  Now it's time for us to have a little faith and say our prayers.  'K?"
        "Yes."  Mike was barely audible, and sounded so sad it almost broke Matt's heart.
        "Listen, bud, I have a lot of funny stories to tell you yet, really good ones.  You don't think I'm gonna let 'em go to waste, do you?  You'll be laughing your ass off in no time."
        "That'll be the day," Mike said, sounding a little more cheerful.
        "You doubt me?  All right, then, just as a reminder of how great these jokes are:
        "The Lone Ranger and Tonto had been riding down the trail all day. When they had stopped to take a rest, Tonto placed his ear to the ground and listened.
        "'Buffalo come,' Tonto said.
        "'How can you tell, Tonto?' asked the Lone Ranger.
        "'Face sticky.'"    
        "Ugh," Mike said, laughing in spite of himself.
        "You're funny, too, sweetboy," Matt said.  "It must be catching."
        They were quiet for a moment.
        "Mike, I saw a very sad little boy yesterday."
        "What?"
        "Michael and Matthew's cousin, Kyle--Jamie's son out of wedlock.  He's been living with the Bradfords because Jamie and his former girlfriend are now married to different people, and nobody wants him.  Mrs. Bradford is doing her best with him, but it's a pretty loveless and sterile home from what I can see.  If he ends up homeless for any reason as a result of all this uproar with the Bradfords, I'd like to have us take him and raise him with the twins.  Would that sit all right with you?  We have a lot of love to give, I think"
        "Absolutely!  That would be really good!"
        "I'm glad.  He needs us.  We can talk more about it later.  Now, I don't want you worrying about me.  I mean it.  Give my love to Jeff, and take care of him, 'K?"
        "You got it!  But you better get your ass home quick, all right?  I love you, and I miss you."
        "Yep.  See ya soon."  They hung up.
        Matt dialed his dad, who answered on the first ring.
        "Dad, it's Matt.  Did Mr. Bell call you?"
        "Matt!  I was hoping you'd call.  Yes, he phoned.  Are you all right?"
        "Yeah, I'm fine.  Isn't this the damndest situation you ever heard of?"
        "Yes, and then some.  I'm totally shocked at Bill Bradford's conduct."
        "Well, I can tell you that I have a renewed appreciation for the phrase, 'Innocent until proven guilty.'  It's not just an academic principle for me anymore."
        Mr. Broman chuckled.
        "Reassure Mom that we're well on the way to beating this thing, will ya, Dad?"
        "Yes."
        "And Dad, I want you to hire some security at the apartment for the twins until this thing is over."
        "He wouldn't..."
        "Well, who would've thought he'd go as far as he has.  The guy is bonkers, at least on the subject of gays."
        "You're right.  It's done."
        "I'm sorry all this crap will come down on you to some degree, Dad."
        "Son, this little tempest isn't going to affect me at all.  You put that out of your mind.  And I may see you sooner than you think."
        "I could use the support, but I know you're busy, especially now.  I love you.  Tell Mom and the boys I love them.  I'll see ya all soon."
        Before hanging up, Matt gave his dad his fictitious registration name at the Day's Inn, his location and phone number.
        Putting the phone down, he turned on the television, and there was his picture for all the world to see.  An old picture, and he looked like a dork, he thought.  Sinking back on his pillow, he listened to what a bad dude he allegedly was, and he didn't feel too good about that.  

Part 5  
                                        
        Mike woke up about 7:30 a.m., and lay in bed in a blue funk.  He missed Matt and he missed the kids.
        Matt problems in Hartford were a sobering reminder to Mike that for those whose lifestyle lies outside the "normal," bell-shaped curve, kindness and tolerance don't always win out against cruelty and bigotry, at least not in the short term.  Thinking about what Governor Bradford had done, Lord Acton's acerbic comment from centuries ago flashed through his mind:  "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."
        Mike lay there brooding about Matt's situation until Jeff burst through the door of his bedroom at about 8 o'clock, dressed in running shorts, a T and running shoes.
        "Getcher ass outta bed, dude!" he said.  "You need some exercise."
        Mike groaned and squinted at the clock.
        "Why aren't you at work?" he asked.
        "I don't report 'til 10 today," Jeff said.  "So move it!"
        "I don't feel like it, Jeff."
        "Do I look like the sensitive type?" Jeff said with an evil smile.  "Get up and get dressed before I dump your fat butt on the floor."
        Mike groaned again, covering his face with his hands, fingers pressing against his eyeballs.  He heard Jeff start toward the bed.
        "All right, all right," Mike said, looking up quickly at his brother.  "I'm moving already.  Can I at least use the bathroom first?"
        "Do ya hafta go No. 1 or No. 2?"
        Mike stifled a smile as he threw the covers back.
        "Man, you're annoying!" he said to Jeff as he rose and stumbled toward the bathroom.
        "When Matt's not here, the job falls to me!  An' I love doin' it, 'cause it's so, so much fer yer own good," Jeff said, grinning from ear to ear.  "Hurry up!"
        Mike gave him the finger as he went in to empty his bladder.
        He emerged from the bathroom and shucked his boxers, pulling on a jock, shorts, a T, sweatsocks and Nikes.
        "Seeing you naked reminds me of a story," Jeff said.
        Mike just stared at him, giving him no encouragement.  That didn't faze Jeff.
        "A woman is watching her husband coming out of the  shower and she says to him, 'You have dick-do disease.'
        "He asks, 'What kind of a disease is that?'
        "She says, 'Your belly sticks out more than your dick do!'"
        Hiking his shirt up and quickly checking out the flat stomach with just the hint of a six-pack, Mike grabbed his keys and elevator card off the dresser.  As he passed a laughing Jeff on the way out of the bedroom, he pulled Jeff's running shorts down around his ankles and gave him a good slap on the ass, leaving him standing there in his jock and sporting a big, red handprint on his left buttock.  Then Mike took off running down the hall toward the elevator.
        "Whoa," Jeff said, pulling his pants up and chasing after Mike.  Catching up to him, Jeff threw an arm around his brother's neck and squeezed gently.  They laughingly collected Breakers and were on their way.
        Ten minutes out, in the warm sun and a nice breeze off the lake, Mike was thankful Jeff had been persistent.  His thoughts drifted back to a comment Matt once made about putting one foot in front of the other, slogging along when the going got tough.  He vowed to follow his partner's good example as they worked through Matt's latest challenge in Connecticut
        Yet Mike was troubled that no one from the family had been at Matt's side, not so far, anyway.  The Supreme Court had not yet recessed for the summer, so Dad had been tied up.  Mom was with the twins.  Martha was working every day back home at the veterinarian hospital.  And he himself was keeping an eye on Jeff.  He knew right then and there that he had to find a way to go to Connecticut and be with Matt for the rest of the trial.  Not even talking on the phone a couple times a day, as he and Matt had been doing, was enough support right now.  And he, Mike, knew more about loneliness than he ever wanted Matt to experience.
         *  *  *
        Peter Bell had gone into court a few days after Matt's arrest to present a pre-trial motion.  He asked the judge to rule that the evidence leading to the drug charge had been illegally obtained because there had been no search warrant for Matt's hotel room, or probable cause to obtain one.  As expected, the motion was denied on the basis that individuals and their property occupying rental space on a short-term basis in a hostelry do not enjoy the same constitutional protections accorded to individuals in their own homes.  The judge commented that if a warrant had been requested, it would likely have been granted on the information supplied by an informant, but also stated that this latter fact was not the grounds for his decision.
        As the days passed and the date of his trial inched forward, Matt became more and more worried and restless.  He took to running twice a day just to wear himself out, and went to so many matinée movies that the plots began to run all together.  He read a lot in the little Gideon Bible in his room at the Day's Inn, and prayed for himself and his family, especially for Mike and the twins.  He discovered anew that when he turned all his troubles over to God as he went to bed at night, he slept soundly and rose refreshed in the morning.  But that didn't curtail his having vivid dreams almost nightly about running on the beach with Mike, the two of them pushing the twins in their strollers, and seeing Mike's beautiful, hard body stretched out next to his own in their bed.
        In preparation for the trial, Matt met with Peter Bell several times to go over strategy.  The private investigators had done their jobs well, and Bell was confidant that the evidence he would adduce would be sufficient to win an acquittal.  He told Matt they had drawn a good, by-the-book judge who ran a fair and orderly courtroom.
        Bell made him aware that when it came time to impugn the Governor's information to the state police, the reason the man had lied would be revealed, and Matt and Mike would likely be outed nationally in the news media.  Having talked with Mike on several occasions about just that eventuality, Matt told Bell to go ahead if it was the only way to secure a "Not Guilty" verdict.  It was a draconian decision, Matt knew, but a necessary one.
        Matt went out and bought several new suits for court, dark and conservative, white shirts, ties and new dress shoes, since he had brought only casual clothes with him from Washington.
        He felt he was as ready as he would ever be.
        When he presented himself in court on the opening day of trial, it was all still like a dream, and not a pleasant one.
        "All rise," the bailiff intoned.
        "The Superior Court of the State of Connecticut, Criminal Division, Hartford District, is now in session, the Honorable Howard Prescott Jackson, presiding.  All those having business before this honorable court draw near, and you shall be heard.
        "You may be seated."
        As the tall, gray-haired judge took the bench, Matt quickly surveyed the public seating.  There was no one he knew out there, but he could tell that the room was packed with media people.
        "Call the first case," Judge Jackson said.
        "The State of Connecticut vs. Matthew James Broman, Jr., Docket No. 01-69554."
        "Counsel, identify yourselves for the record," the Judge said.
        "Cynthia Gossett for the People, your honor."  The State's Attorney was a tall, statuesque brunette, hair pulled back into a bun, and wearing a sharp, tailored suit.  She appeared to be about 30 years old.
        "Peter Bell for the defense, your honor."
        "Read the charge," the judge instructed the clerk.
        "The defendant is charged with possession of a Schedule 1 drug with intent to distribute in an amount over 1 ounce."
        "Waive further reading, your honor," Peter Bell said.
        "How does the defendant plead?"
        Matt rose to his feet.  "Not guilty, your honor."
        The rest of the morning was spent in selecting and seating a jury, and there was a lot of wrangling between the lawyers, something expected in a high profile case like this one.
        The final juror and a few alternates were selected just before noon, and after they were impaneled and sworn in along with the usual admonitions about not discussing the impending case and avoiding any media coverage of it, the judge adjourned for lunch.  Bell saw the women jurors checking out the handsome defendant, and liking what they saw.
        Knowing that Matt would be swarmed by reporters if they went out the front door of the courtroom, Bell took him out a side door to the back of the courthouse, where they jumped in a waiting car and went to lunch.
        Following the lunch hour, Judge Jackson reconvened the court and instructed the State's Attorney to call her first witness.  She called Lt. Anders Wolf of the Connecticut State Police, and he was sworn and seated in the witness box.  He didn't look toward the defense table as he sat down.
        "Lt. Wolf, were you on duty on July 23, last?"
        "Yes, M'am, I was the ranking supervisor of patrol for the Hartford geographical area, floating throughout the area in my command car."
        "Did you receive a call from command dispatch at about 12:40 p.m. on that date?"
        "Yes."
        "What was your location at the time you received the radio message?"
        "I was in the downtown Hartford area."
        "What were you instructed to do?"
        "I was dispatched downtown to the Hilton Hartford to search a room there for drugs."
        "What was the room number you were told to search?"
        "Room 823."
        "In whose name was that room registered?"
        "It was registered to Matthew James Broman, Jr."
        "Did you enter the room?"
        "Yes."
        "How did you gain entry?"
        "I contacted hotel security, and their chief of security admitted me."
        "Did you search the premises?"
        "Yes."
        "What did you find?"
        "I found approximately a kilo of what appeared to be cocaine in a piece of luggage there."
        "What did you do then?"
        "I took possession of the substance I had found for evidence, and radioed command to inform them what I had found."
        "And then?"
        "I took the evidence to headquarters and logged it in at the Secure Evidence Facility."
        "Did you weigh the product when you checked it in?"
        "Yes.  It was a kilo."
        "Are you aware of the results of subsequent testing of the evidence by the lab?"
        "Yes, it was cocaine."
        "Your honor," the State's Attorney said, "I would offer into evidence an affidavit from the State Police lab indicating that the substance offered into evidence is indeed cocaine, 1 kilo in amount."
        "Mark People's Exhibit 1," the judge said.
        "After you logged in the evidence, what did you do?" Ms. Gossett asked.
        "I called the State's Attorney's office, and received permission to charge the defendant.  He was then arrested."
        "Your witness," the State's Attorney said.
        Peter Bell rose, standing at the defense table.
        "Lt. Wolf, when you went to Room 823 of the Hartford Hilton, it was in response to a message from dispatch, is that correct?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "You testified that the chief of security for the hotel admitted you?"
        "Yes."
        "Did the chief of security remain with you while you searched the room?"
        "No, I told him he could go about his other duties."
        "So you were alone when you searched the room?"
        "Yes."
        "Describe the luggage you found."
        "One soft-sided, black canvas bag, with a logo on the side of it."
        "What was the logo?"
        "It portrayed a tall building and a crane, and said 'Berman Worldwide Engineering.'"
        "Where was the bag when you found it?"
        "Sitting on a folding luggage rack right inside the door."
        "Where was the substance discovered?"
        "It was hidden under clothing and other personal items in the bag."
        "Describe what you did after you discovered the substance."
        "I continued searching the room, and when I didn't find anything else, I radioed headquarters concerning what I had found.  Then I took the cocaine down to my patrol car, and delivered it to the Secure Evidence Facility, where I logged it in."
        "Did you take the entire bag into custody, or just the alleged substance?"
        "Just the substance."
        "Do you have another major responsibility in addition to those of senior patrol officer for this district?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "What is it?"
        "I'm officer in charge of the Secure Evidence Facility for this district."
        "Do you recognize these forms?"  Bell handed Wolf a sheaf of papers.
        "Yes, sir."
        "Please tell the court what they are."
        "They are computer generated copies of log-in and log-out transactions matched against inventory at the Evidence Facility."
        "Will you circle the log-in of the substance you discovered in Mr. Broman's hotel room, please.  Use this pen."
        Wolf circled an item on the inventory.
        "Please identify any other items on the page which indicate a log-in of substances in the amount of 1 kilo."
        Wolf looked down the page and circled one other item.
        "What is the other item?"
        "One kilo of a substance logged in 2 weeks ago."
        "Was that substance subsequently identified as cocaine?"
        "Yes, according to this sheet."
        "Are you aware that we subpoenaed this item and it could not be produced by your staff at the Evidence Facility?"
        "No, sir."  Wolf was beginning to perspire noticeably.
        "Your honor, we submit these log-in/log-out pages into evidence, with annotations."
        "Mark Defense Exhibit 1," the judge instructed.
        "Lt. Wolf, how long have you been a State Policeman?"
        "Twenty years."
        "Did you attend the State Police training academy with any current members of the command structure?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "Who?"
        "Colonel Metzlaar, Commander of the State Police, and Major Klein, chief of Operations."
        "So you are personal friends with them, would you say?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "Do you have a cell phone in your command car?"
        "Yes."
        "Did you talk to either Colonel Metzlaar or Major Klein on your cell phone after being dispatched to the Hilton Hartford?"
        "Objection, your honor," the State's Attorney said.  "Relevance?"
        "Laying a foundation, your honor," Bell responded.  "I ask the court's indulgence subject to connection."
        "The witness will answer," Judge Jackson said.
        "What was the question again?" Lt. Wolf asked.
        "Did you talk to either Colonel Metzlaar or Major Klein on your cell phone after being dispatched to the Hilton Hartford?"
        "No, sir."
        "Please look at these telephone records, and identify your cell phone number if it appears."  Bell handed Wolf a legal size sheet of paper.
        "Uh, I'm not certain what the cell phone number is," Wolf said.
        "I can help you out with that.  Is it 582-5582?"
        "I guess so."
        "Look at the telephone records, and identify that number if it appears."
        "Yes, it's here."
        "Read the date and time of the call."
        "July 23, 2001, 12:35 p.m."
        "Read the entry for the origin of this call."
        "998-9999."
        "Do you recognize that number?"
        "Yes."
        "Whose number is it?"
        "Colonel Metzlaar's private number at State Police headquarters."
        "Your honor, we submit this telephone recapitulation into evidence," Bell said.
        "Mark Defense Exhibit 2," the judge said.
        Although the temperature of the courtroom was cool, by this time sweat was dripping from Wolf's face.  The jury couldn't miss it.
        "What did you and Colonel Metzlaar talk about on July 23 at 12:35 p.m.?"
        "I don't recall, exactly.  I may have told him I found a kilo of what I thought was cocaine in a room at the Hilton Hartford."
        "That's interesting," Bell said.  "You told him you found cocaine in Mr. Bromman's room at 12:35 p.m. and you weren't dispatched to the hotel until 12:40 p.m.?"
        "Uh, we probably didn't talk about the cocaine, I guess."
        "I see.  Do you and Colonel Metzlaar speak frequently on the telephone?"
        "No, not really."
        "So the Commanding Officer of the Connecticut State Police telephones you, and you can't remember exactly what it was about?"
        "Objection, your honor," State's Attorney Gossett said.  "Asked and answered."
        "Your honor, I request permission to treat the witness as hostile," Bell said.
        "Granted."
        "Had Colonel Metzlaar given you any instructions about the search you were about to conduct at the hotel?"
        "Certainly not," Wolf insisted.
        "Colonel Metzlaar told you what you needed to find when you were dispatched to Matthew Broman's room, didn't he?"
        "No, he didn't."
        "How did you carry away the alleged contraband?" Bell asked.
        "I don't understand the question."
        "You stated you did not remove the alleged substance from the defendant's room in his bag.  Did you carry it away just as you found it, did you wrap it in a towel, did you put it under your jacket, did you put it in a paper bag, what?"
        "I just carried it under my arm and walked to the car."
        "Where was the hotel security chief when you left Mr. Broman's room?"
        "In the hall outside the room."
        "Did you tell him that you had found what you believed to be illegal drugs?"
        "I don't recall."
        "Did you speak to the security chief at all as you left the hotel?"
        "I don't remember."
        "Your memory isn't too good for a trained police officer, is it, Lt. Wolf?" Bell said.  Wolf said nothing, the sweat dripping from his face.
        "Objection," Ms. Gossett said.  "Badgering."
        "Withdrawn," Bell responded.  "Lt. Wolf, where was the defendant arrested?"
        "He was at the Governor's Mansion, I believe."
        "How did you know where the defendant was?"
        "Uh, I believe Dispatch must have told me."
        "Who made the arrest?"
        "Trooper John Baker of the Hartford District, on my instructions."
        "Your honor, that is all the questions I have for this witness at this time.  But the defense reserves the right to recall him to the stand as seems appropriate."
        "Very well," Judge Jackson intoned.  "You may step down, Lieutenant, subject to recall.  Remain available, please."
        Lt. Wolf wiped his brow with a handkerchief, and quickly left the stand.
        "Ms. Gossett, call your next witness," the judge instructed.
        "Your honor, the People call Trooper John Baker."  He was sworn and sat in the witness chair.
        "Trooper, were you on duty at the Governor's mansion on July 23 during the day shift?" Ms. Gossett asked.
        "Yes, m'am."
        "Where were you stationed there?"
        "In the front hallway."
        "Were you summoned by the Governor to a sitting room?"
        "Yes, m'am."
        "What time was that?"
        "Approximately 12:30 p.m."
        "What did the Governor want?"
        "He told me to detain the defendant pending further instructions."  Baker pointed at Matt.
        "Did you do so?"
        "Yes, m'am.  I cuffed him to a radiator in the front hall."
        "What happened next?"
        "The governor came to the front hall at 12:45 p.m. and told me to arrest the defendant on charges of possession of drugs with intent to distribute.  I did that, frisked him, and gave him his Miranda warning."
        "What happened then?"
        "A state patrol car pulled up within a few minutes and took the defendant into custody."
        "Your witness," Ms Gossett said.
        "Trooper Baker, did you witness the defendant break any laws, or for that matter, even any polite conventions, when you were in his presence?"
        "No, sir."
        "When you first came into the Governor's presence to take the defendant into custody, was there anyone else present?"
        "Yes, sir.  Mrs. Bradford was just leaving the sitting room by another door when I arrived."
        "Did you find any weapons or contraband on the defendant when you frisked him?"
        "No, sir."
        "Had anyone in the command structure of the Connecticut State Police contacted you about the defendant and told you to take him into custody?"
        "Other than the Governor, no, sir."
        "No more questions of this witness, your honor," Bell said.
        "Ms. Gossett, call your next witness." Judge Jackson said.
        "Your honor, the People rest."
        "Very well.  Mr. Bell, are you ready to proceed?"
        "Yes, your honor.  The defense calls Tonya Jefferson."
        Once on the stand, the witness, a young, attractive African American woman, explained that she was an employee of a Washington, D.C., private security firm which was contracted by the Department of Transportation to supplement federal marshals at the airport.
        Bell elicited from Ms. Jefferson that she had been on duty at Reagan National Airport on July 23, and had been the official responsible for pulling the defendant's bag from the conveyor belt and searching it.  She said that when their security station wasn't too backed up at the xray machine, the security guards routinely pulled and searched about every tenth bag which appeared to have any item with electrical wiring in it.   Matt's was one of those.  All she found of an electrical nature was a small clock radio.
        Blushing, Ms. Jefferson admitted the defendant stuck in her mind because he was "very, very handsome" and because, unlike many travelers, he didn't appear to be annoyed at all that his bag had been singled out for a search.  He had given her a big smile when she was finished, and wished her a nice day, and she appreciated that.
        The search of Matt's bag was on tape.  Bell received permission from the judge to show the tape, and it confirmed the witness's description of what had occurred at Reagan National.
        The prosecutor was unable to shake the witness's testimony on cross.  In fact, the woman only strengthened her story that she was completed a thorough search of the bag and found nothing.
        "Next witness," Judge Jackson said when Ms. Gossett dismissed the security guard.
        "Yes, your honor," Bell responded. "The defense calls Hector Barrio."
        A short, balding, cheerful looking Hispanic man, middle-aged, came forward and was sworn.
        "Mr. Barrio, what do you do for a living?" Bell asked.
        "I'm a cab driver."
        "For what company do you work?"
        "Yellow Cab of Hartford."
        "Were you on duty on July 23, 2001?"
        "Yes."
        "Were most of your runs that day begin at the airport?"
        "Yes."
        "Do you remember picking up the defendant that day?"  Bell pointed to Matt at the defense table.
        "Yes, I do."
        "Of the hundreds of people you serve, why do you remember him?"
        "A couple of reasons.  First of all, he was friendly and had a great smile.  Most travelers don't really see us cabbies as people, you know.  We're like furniture.  This guy looked me right in the eye."
        "What else?"
        "He insisted on sitting in the front seat so we could talk.  Once again, most people aren't too interesting in real conversation with a cabbie."
        "Did the man you've identified have luggage?"
        "Yes, he had one bag."
        "Did he put it in the trunk?"
        "No, he just held it on his lap."
        "What kind of bag was it?"
        "It was just a black, soft-sided, canvas bag."
        "Was it unusual in any way?"
        "Yes.  It had a logo on the side of it."
        "Can you describe it?"
        "It was a picture of a tall building with an industrial crane lifting materials up to the top, and it said 'Berman Worldwide Engineering' underneath it."
        "Why did that stick in your mind?'
        "Because I have a son who's an engineer and works for Berman Worldwide.  We talked about it.  My fare said it was his brother's bag, and he borrowed it."
        "And the bag was in his lap all the time he rode with you in the cab?"
        "Yes."
        "Where did you drive the defendant?"
        "To the Hilton Hartford."
        "Did you leave after arriving at your destination?"  Bell asked.
        "No.  My fare had me wait for him, handed his bag to the doorman, and went in to register.  He was back in five minutes."
        "Was the bag ever back in possession of the defendant while you waited?"
        "No, the doorman had put it on a cart, and a bellboy came to take it upstairs just as we were pulling away."
        "Do you usually watch a fare's bags at a hotel?" Bell inquired.
        "No, but I was watching for him to come back, and the bag was in plain sight."
        "Where did you take the defendant then?"
        "To the Governor's mansion."
        "Your honor, we submit in evidence the dispatcher's record of Mr. Barrio's runs on July 23, including a run from the airport to the Hilton Hartford and on to the Governor's mansion."
        "Mark Defense Exhibit 3," the judge instructed.
        "No more questions, your honor."
        "Ms. Gossett?" the judge inquired.
        "Yes, your honor.  Mr. Barrio, do you do any paper work in your cab."
        "Sometimes."
        "Did you do any in your cab on July 23 while you were waiting for the defendant to return?  In other words, did you lose eye contact with the bag at any time?"
        "No."
        "How can you be so sure?" the frustrated prosecutor asked.
        "Because I never do paper work until the run is over.  The meter was still running here, so I had nothing to record."
        "No more questions," Ms. Gossett said with a disappointed expression on her face.
        Bell smiled to himself.  His opponent had broken one of the cardinal rules of courtroom work:  never ask any witness a question to which you don't already know the answer.
        "Mr. Barrio, you are dismissed.  Next witness, Mr. Bell," Judge Jackson said.
        "Yes, your honor.  The defense calls Diane Campbell to the stand."
        An attractive young woman who appeared to be about 25 years old was sworn and took the stand.
        "Ms. Campbell, please tell the court for whom you work and what your job is," Bell said.
        "I am a civilian employee of the Connecticut State Police, and work as a dispatcher."
        "Were you on duty on July 23 of this year during the day shift?"
        "Yes."
        "Please look at the dispatch logs for your station on that date.  Can you tell me if you dispatched Lt. Wolf to the Hilton Hartford on that date?"  Bell handed the young woman a sheaf of computer printouts which she perused.
        "Yes," Ms. Campbell said, "here it is, right here."  She pointed out an entry to Bell.
        "What time is indicated here?"
        "12:40 p.m."
        "Your honor, we submit this log into evidence."
        "Mark Defense Exhibit 4," Judge Jackson said.
        "Do you usually dispatch ranking officers to conduct hotel room searches," Bell asked.
        "No sir, not usually."
        "Why did you dispatch Lt. Wolf to the Hilton Hartford?"
        "Well," the woman said reluctantly, "I was told to do so."
        "Who told you to dispatch Lt. Wolf to that location?"
        "Um, Colonel Metzlaar, I believe."
        "You believe?  Why did you think it was Colonel Metzlaar?"
        "He identified himself as Colonel Metzlaar."
        "How do you know that it was in fact Colonel Metzlaar."
        "I recognized his voice from previous contacts we have had on the radio."
        "Are your dispatches all recorded for later review?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "Did you tell Lt. Wolf that the defendant was at the Governor's Mansion prior to or at the time of his arrest?"
        "No, sir.  I had no knowledge of that."
        "Your honor, I have no more questions for this witness." Bell said.
        "Ms. Gossett?"
        "I have no questions for this witness, your honor," the prosecutor said.
        "You may step down, Ms. Campbell," Judge Jackson said, glancing at his watch.  "We will adjourn for lunch a little early today to enable me to hear some motions in another case.  Court will reconvene at 1:30 p.m."
        The gavel banged, and everyone stood as the judge left the bench.
        As Peter Bell turned toward Matt with an encouraging smile, he spotted State's Attorney Al Shaffer in the back row of the courtroom, and they nodded politely to each other.  Peter again spirited Matt out of the building by the back entrance to the courthouse to avoid the press.
        After lunch, Bell called the security chief of the Hilton Hartford, Michael Colletti, to the stand.  Colletti testified that he had remained glued to the door outside Room 823 at the hotel during the search conducted by Lt. Wolf, and that when the latter emerged from the room, he did not appear to be carrying a kilo of cocaine or anything else.  He said he had conversed with the Lt. Wolf on the elevator and even accompanied him to the front door of the hotel, and nothing had been said about finding contraband.  Wolf had merely entered his unmarked car without placing anything in it other than himself, and driven away.
        Assistant State's Attorney Gossett questioned Colletti at length on cross examination, but was unable to shake his story in the slightest.
        The next witness called by the defense was Sgt. Darren Williams, operations officer at the State Evidence Facility.
        "Sergeant, explain your current duties and assignment to the court," Bell instructed.
        "I'm in charge of daily operations at the State Evidence Facility, under the command of Lt. Wolf."
        "Were you on duty on July 23 of this year on the day shift?"
        "Yes, I was."
        "Please describe the security arrangement at the Secure Evidence Facility."
        "The main doors of the facility open into a reception area in front of a chest-high front desk which is enclosed by heavy steel mesh.  A very large tray slides in and out at the front desk to permit evidence to be placed in it so that it can be logged in.  A door to the side of the desk opens only when someone is buzzed in from the front desk, or by key, of which there are only four.  I and the other two sergeants assigned to the Facility each has one, and Lt. Wolf has the other."
        "Did Lt. Wolf come to the State Evidence Facility while you were on duty?"
        "Yes."
        "What time was that?"
        "I can't be precise, but I believe it was about 1:15 p.m.," Williams said.
        "Where were you when he arrived?"
        "I was at the front desk."
        "Was he carrying evidence to be logged in?"
        "Not that I saw," Williams said.
        "When someone is carrying evidence, what is standard procedure for logging it in?" Bell asked.
        "The officer outside the wire requests the sliding tray from the duty officer, places the evidence in it, and receives back the log sheet to indicate the nature of the evidence, the time and place it was taken into custody, by whom it was taken into custody, and the name or names of the perpetrators of the criminal act involving the evidence, if known."
        "Is this what occurred when Lt. Wolf arrived on July 23?"
        "No, sir."  Sgt. Williams was looking uncomfortable by now.
        "What did occur?"
        "Lt. Wolf admitted himself into the locked area behind the wire using his key.  He said he had evidence to log in, and would take care of it himself.  He suggested I take a coffee break, and he would come back to the coffee room and get me when he was finished."
        "What did you do?"
        "I went back to the coffee room as the Lieutenant had suggested."
        "Did you at any time see anything that looked like a kilo of cocaine or anything looking like it in his possession?"
        "No, sir."  By now Sgt. Williams looked extremely uncomfortable.
        "Did you review the log book after you returned to the front desk?"
        "Yes, sir."
        "What did it say?"
        "That 1 kilo of what was suspected to be cocaine had been taken into custody in Room 823 at the Hilton Hartford Hotel at 12:50 p.m. by Lt. Anders Wolf, and that the room was registered to Matthew J. Broman, Jr., and the contraband was suspected to be his."
        "Did you at anytime see the suspected contraband?"
        "No, sir."
        "Where was it at this point?"
        "Lt. Wolf said he had placed it in the holding area for evidence under the number entered into the log book."
        "Did you verify that the seized material was where the log book said it was."
        "No, sir."
        "Why not?"
        "My superior officer logged in evidence, and I had no reason to disbelieve him."
        "But the procedure followed in logging this evidence was unusual, was it not?" Bell asked.
        "Objection, leading the witness," Ms. Gossett said.
        "Sustained," Judge Jackson said.
        "Let me rephrase," Bell said.  "Was this normal procedure for logging in evidence at the State Evidence Facility?"
        "Well..." Williams hesitated.
        "Your honor, please instruct the witness to answer," Bell requested.
        "The witness will answer," the judge said.
        "No, it wasn't normal procedure," Williams said reluctantly.
        "I have no more questions of this witness, your honor," Bell said.
        "Ms. Gossett, your witness," Judge Jackson said.
        The cross examination produced nothing to contradict or change Williams' previous testimony, and as he was dismissed he sighed with relief.
        "Mr. Bell, are you prepared to call your next witness?" the judge asked.
        "Your honor, because of my next witness's busy schedule, I subpoenaed him for tomorrow morning.  If I may, your honor, I'd like to ask that we adjourn until then."
        "Ms. Gossett?"
        "No objection."
        "Very well," the judge said, "we stand adjourned until 9 a.m. tomorrow."  The gavel fell.
        Peter Bell, after years of trial work, was a master at reading and interpreting people's facial expressions and demeanor.  As the testimony had accrued, he could see Judge Jackson's facial expression when he looked at Matt changing from calm dispassion to covert sympathy.  That was a very good sign, indeed.
         *  *  *
        Despite the mounting doubt which Peter Bell was creating in the minds of all in the courtroom about the charges against him, Matt was feeling lonely, tired and discouraged.  He went back to the Day's Inn after court and changed clothes.  Lying down on one side of his king size bed, he stared blankly at the ceiling.  Quickly tiring of that, he grabbed a pad a yellow paper he had bought, propped himself up against the headboard of the bed, and began to write a letter to Mike, in pencil.

    "My dearest Mike, my brother, my friend, my lover,

            "I'm so grateful that we are all these things to each other.  I know you feel the same.  Sometimes when I'm low, only my confidence that God takes care of His children, and the remembrance of what we have together, of your arms holding me and of your beautiful face, keep me going.  To this day, your loving, patient, kind, exciting  personality thrill me, and so does your killer body.  Yes, I love you, body and soul.  Even apart, we are one, now and forever.
            "Being part of your life again has been heaven for me, Mike.  Maybe I've had it so  good that the Lord plans to take away those I love, or take me away from them, so  I'll become stronger.  I don't know.  I'm praying that that won't be true.  I hope my  fears are groundless.
            "I'm sharing my fears with you, but don't take them to heart.  The trial is going well,  really, so don't let me bring you down or shake your confidence that the truth will win out.
            "I miss the twins and Mom and Dad and Jeff and Martha and yes, Breakers, but  you have to believe that you are always at the top of that list.  If you've ever felt, even for a split second since our reconciliation, that I don't appreciate you enough or love you completely, put that thought away forever.  You are the essence of  what makes my life worth living.  You are a stream of living water for me.  I learn from you every day how to love life and really love other human beings more deeply  than I ever thought possible.  Your patience and kindness for everyone you meet make you a shining example of how to live life.  I long for you now, my Mike.
            "I went to the Cathedral for mass early yesterday morning before court, and then went back there afterwards for Evensong.  The Cathedral has a men and boys choir  that sings the evening office in the late afternoon every day.  It's wonderful.  There's nothing purer, more soaring, more healing than the voices of the kids.  Worship strengthens our faith.  We both believe that.  So please continue to pray for me and  for all of us.
            "I love you totally, Mike.  You are my heart.
                                                        "Matt"

        He had just scrawled his signature when there came a knock at the door.  Puzzled, knowing that Peter Bell was the only person in Hartford who knew where he was staying, he jumped up and opened the door cautiously.
        Mike stood there with a bag in his hand and a huge smile on his face, and Matt was frozen there, not breathing for a moment.
        "Well, are you gonna invite me in?" Mike asked.
        Tears of joy and relief coursed silently from Matt's eyes as he pulled Mike inside the room, shut the door and enfolded him in his arms.  He put his forehead against Mike's and just held him there, continuing to weep.  Neither spoke at first.
        "I'm here, Matt," Mike finally said to his partner softly, caressing the back of Matt's head as they stood embracing.  Matt's grip finally loosened, and they sat down on the bed.  Mike took his brother's hand and held it and gazed into his eyes.  Matt's throat was tight, and he couldn't speak.
        "I should have told you I was coming, but I was afraid you'd try to convince me not to," Mike said.  He took a fresh handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Matt's tears from his face.
        Still saying nothing, Matt reached over and handed Mike the yellow pad with his letter written on it.  They sat in silence while Mike read it.
        Now it was Mike's eyes that were damp when he finished.  He kissed Matt on the cheek and held him tightly again as they sat side by side.
        "I'm here for you now, sweetboy.  I shouldn't have sat on my ass in Chicago for so long."
        "What about Jeff?" Matt rasped out, his throat still constricted.
        "Don't worry about Jeff.  'The Incredible Hunk' is doing great, and Stan and Linda are staying at the condo with him 'til we get back.  Jeff promised me he'd stick to the rules while we were gone, and that he'd take Breakers for a run every day.  Who knows, maybe he'll even make Stan and Linda into track stars by the time we get back."
        Matt sighed with relief.
        "And I have more good news for you, bro," Mike said. "The Supreme Court just recessed, and Dad will be here sometime today.  I made a reservation here at the motel for him when I came in.  He'll be just down the hall."
        Matt grimaced.
        "I wanna see him so bad!" he said.  "I need to see him.  But you don't know how I hate to have him dragged through the shit with me by the press, Mike.  He didn't hafta come up here."
        "He and I talked about that on the phone.  All I can tell you is that nothing you or anyone else could say would have kept  him away.  So, say, 'Thanks, Dad,' and let it go at that.  That's my advice."
        " 'K.  You're prolly right.  I feel so good that he'd come up to be with me, and that you're here..."  Matt cleared his throat, and lay back on the bed, legs dangling to the floor, pulling Mike down with him.  "I love you so much, Mike, it hurts."
        "Well, let's work up to the 'hurt that refreshes' later.  You can plan on that.  Right now, how about a run?  You prolly know the turf around here pretty well by now."
        Matt laid a big kiss on his partner's lips, jumped up and starting stripping off his own clothes.  Mike grinned, lustfully watching his partner's beautiful body appear as he, too, stripped to put on his jock, running shorts and a sleeveless T.  They were both half hard by the time they were dressed just from briefly seeing each other naked.
        Mike gave Matt's crotch a squeeze.  "Hmmm.  Somebody's getting ready for some fun later."
        Matt laughed as he scrawled a note to put on the door in the off chance their dad arrived while they were gone.
        Together they burst out of the motel's side door, pausing in the parking lot to do their stretching exercises and then heading to the street, laughing at the sheer joy of being together again.  It was a warm summer afternoon with no breeze, and soon they were sweating profusely and enjoying every minute of it.  They hit their stride, and for the first time in days Matt didn't feel tendrils of fear clutching at his stomach.
        When they got back to the motel an hour later, the note to their dad was still on their door.  The shower in their room was a little on the small side, but that didn't stop them from sharing.  They soaped each other thoroughly.  Matt began stroking Mike's cock, but Mike put his hand down to stop him.
        "I'm about a millisecond away from shooting, studly," he said.  "I wanna save it for later, if that's ok.  Do you want me to get you off now?"
        "No," Matt said, "But when I come, I might blow ya right outta bed."
        "Ooooo!  You da man!  You been savin' up, huh?" Mike said.  Bending down, he kissed the head of his partner's dick as the water cascaded down, and then gave it a stroke for good measure.
        They emerged from the shower with Matt licking drops of water off Mike's chest, making him stay hard.  They gently toweled one another dry and put on fresh underwear, khaki shorts and T's.  They were no sooner dressed than a knock sounded at the door.  Matt opened it, and there was Justice Broman, the light in the hall reflecting dully off of the small bald spot at the crown of his head.
        "Dad!" the young men said together, and Matt pulled him into a hug, followed by Mike.  They each kissed him on the cheek and he responded in kind.
        "Dad, thank you, thank you for coming up here," Matt said.  "But I want to apologize to you again for getting you caught up in this mess.  You have enough on your mind without..."
        Mr. Broman held up his hand and stopped Matt in mid-sentence.
        "Don't apologize to me, Matt," he said firmly. "You didn't ask for this, and you don't deserve it.  Anyway, you're my son.  Where else would I be but here?  I should apologize to you for not getting here sooner."
        Mike said nothing, but gave Matt his patented "I told you so" look.
        Mike took his dad's suitcoat and hung it up in the closet.  They sat their dad down in the room's one easy chair, and sat near him on the bed.  They both noticed the older man looked tired.
        "How are the twins and Mom?" Matt asked.  "I've talked to them on the phone every couple days, but the kids don't really understand what's going on."
        "They're fine, Matt.  It's really been wonderful to have the boys with us.  They're growing like little weeds.  Time passes so quickly, you know, and there aren't that many chances for the generations to be together when families live and work so far apart.  Mom took them back to Pennsylvania as soon as the Supreme Court adjourned.  When we leave here for good, you can pick them up there, but I hope you can both stay for a few days before you go back to Chicago."
        "If we keep getting good reports on Jeff, I don't see why we can't do that," Mike said.
        "I'd like that a lot," Matt added.
        "Matt, I've been talking with Peter Bell once a day, sometimes twice, about how the trial is going," Mr. Broman said. "This guy was brilliant in law school, and he's definitely one of the best defense attorneys in the entire country today.  I'm feeling really encouraged by what he's telling me.  If things continue to go as they have been, the case may not even go to the jury.  Judge Jackson may give a directed verdict of acquittal.  We'll just have to see.  He's a good judge, though--I've asked around."
        "I'm feeling good about the way the trial's gone," Matt agreed.  "But what makes me feel even better is that you two are here with me now.  I'm really confident things are going to turn out right."
        Matt stared at the floor for a minute, and looked back up at his dad.
        "Dad, I wrote Mike a letter this afternoon before I knew he was coming to Hartford.  I wanted him to know how much I love him.  And admire him.  I guess when your back is against the wall, whatever the reason, you clarify what's important in your life and you're a little more honest with others about your feelings."  Matt paused.  "So...I want you to know how much I love you and appreciate everything you've done for me and for all of us in this family all these years.  Somehow you've balanced your work and family obligations in a way that nobody's been shortchanged.  When I was growing up, even when you and Mom and I were at loggerheads over one thing or another--mostly my dating habits, I guess--you were patient and kind and respectful of me as a person.  That didn't change when Mike and I became a couple.  We've never doubted your love and support, and it's meant the world to me, to us.  Somehow Mike, Jeff, Martha and I won the parent lottery big time with you and Mom.  I just wanted you to know how grateful we are to you."
        Mike nodded and bumped fists with his partner in approval.
        Justice Broman was taken aback, and for once in his life, temporarily at a loss for words.
        "I..."  He collected himself.  "Matt, among the defining moments in my life, what you just said rally touches me.  I love both of you very much.  The bonds we've forged in our family give me more satisfaction than anything else in this world.  Thank you for saying that.  It means a lot."
        Mike got up, bent down, and hugged and kissed his dad in the chair.
        "And you, Mr. Mike," the judge said.  "How am I ever going to repay you for getting Jeff turned around?"
        "What's this bullshit about 'repay?'" Mike responded.  "Jeff's my brother. Jeff saved my life.  So take that word 'repay' outta your vocabulary when it comes to me, please."
        "I'm grateful, Mike, that's what I meant to say."  Justice Broman paused.  "Now, I want to take you guys to supper tonight, if that's all right.  Let me put my feet up for a few minutes to get my second wind, and we can go," the justice said.
        "Sit back, and put your feet up on this chair," Matt suggested, dragging over the desk chair.  "Or do you want to lie down here on the bed?"
        "I'll just sit here, thanks.  If I lie down, I may not get up," Mr. Broman said with a chuckle.
        The older man dropped off to sleep almost immediately in the chair, and Matt and Mike lay down on the bed side by side.  Soon they, too, were snoozing.  Either out of habit or their subconscious desires, they rolled together, face to face, and lay entwined.
        Justice Broman awakened after a very restful 15 minute nap.  Brain wandering, eyes still closed, his mind reflected on this year's court session, just adjourned for vacation.  It had been a rough one from his perspective.  Although a conservative by nature, he had angered and confused the three other staunch conservatives on the bench by refusing to vote with them on cases to curtail or shrink human rights, or to give governments in general more power over individual citizens.  He certainly believed in the rule of law and in the power of precedent, but he also believed that the law had to adapt, albeit slowly, to the way the people of the United States really wanted to live their lives every day, not the way the conservative judiciary wanted them to live.  It was a continual struggle to develop and clearly delineate his position to his eight brethren on the bench.  Whatever he could do to help his two gay sons and those like them, members of one minority among the many living in the midst of a judgmental majority in this country, to thrive in peace along with everyone else was always on his mind.
        Matt sighed in his sleep, catching his dad's attention, and the older man opened his eyes and looked over at the bed where his two sons lay in the throes of that most innocent of human activities--sleeping.  He loved them deeply and completely, and he knew they knew that.  And they obviously loved each other totally.  For some reason he began to reflect on Matt's growing-up years.  Matt had been the consummate jock, very good looking, an acknowledged leader in his social group and school, but he was far from fitting the typical macho stereotype.  Mr. Broman knew from his wife Jane and from other sources that his oldest son always had a soft spot, a protective streak when it came to the underdog.  He never permitted bullying or harassment of younger or weaker kids when he was around by those whose physical size and testosterone levels made those things likely to happen.  There had always been a goodness and a sweetness to the boy.  But a toughness, too.  His love for animals and their love for him had been an additional indication that the tough little shit of a kid, when he was grown, would have a compassionate heart.
        When he thought about it, it still surprised him that Matt had re-committed himself to a man and was in an intimate relationship with him, even if that man was Mike.  This was particularly true after he'd had what had appeared to be a good marriage to Sarah.  There had been absolutely no clue in Matt's formative years that his sexual orientation would be what it was.  His gaze shifted to Mike.  Would there have been a gay Matt if there hadn't been a gay Mike?  He didn't know the answer to that, but he did know he loved and valued Mike as much as any of his children, and not just because Mike had probably saved Matt's life on at least three separate occasions.  Mike had proven to be been a wonderful and affectionate son, and his adoption elicited no regrets either from the justice or his wife.  When the two young men had first come out to the family, yes, he had grieved for both of them because of the adversity he knew their sexual orientation would create for them.  The grieving halted quickly as he came to believe, in a mindset that transcended the merely rational, that their homosexuality was a channel for special gifts to pass to mankind, that Matt and Mike were special people with special gifts.  And he believed that the possession of those gifts was well worth any conflict that came their way.  So he was content and grateful to be the father of these two wonderful, partnered young men.  He just wished sometimes that cultures in which alternate sexual orientations were accepted, sometimes even revered, could have more of a leavening effect on the prevailing, adverse social climate in the United States.
        Mr. Broman thought that in many ways Matt and Mike were the perfect couple.  Mike's calm rationality balanced Matt's volatile and passionate nature so well.  Mike's love and commitment to family and friends was quiet but enduring.  Mr. Broman had started training Mike to manage not only the immense fortune he had inherited from the Bermans, but the Broman family money as well, although mostly in a blind trust because of his seat on the Court, because Matt, Jeff and Martha had shown minimal interest or talent in that area.  Mike had good instincts for lucrative investments, and was improving in his ability to read the stock market very well, his dad had observed.  Although investing money was as much an art as anything else, it was important to be rational in developing an investment strategy, and Mike had that ability.  The older man  had spent many enjoyable hours talking investments with Mike on the telephone and emailing back and forth with him about investments.  At his suggestion, they had each identified a fictitious pot of money and were competing with each other to test their earning skills in the market.  Despite the current slowdown in the economy, Mike was doing well.
        In the personal realm, Mike had seemingly recovered from the crushing blow of losing his entire birth family in that horrific plane crash, or at least as much as one ever does recover from such a tragedy, and was on what appeared to be an even keel.  He had moved from being an indifferent Roman Catholic to being a committed, if not ardent, Episcopalian.  His professors at Northwestern Medical School thought the world of him.  Of the boys, Mike was probably closest to being his dad's soulmate.
        His thoughts shifted to Jeff.  In some ways he was the typical middle child.  He shared many of Matt's characteristics, with the exception that he had usually been much more compliant with household rules and the wishes of his parents than Matt had ever been.  Mr. Broman hardly ever remembered Jeff being angry at anything when he was growing up, at least not for long.  He was their "cool" child.  He had a very sunny and even disposition for the most part, although like Matt, if he said he would do something, he did it, come hell or high water.  Jeff had never in his life told a lie so far as his father knew, except maybe when Matt made him lie about whether the latter had kept his date night curfew.  He was as good a student as Matt, and was equally as gifted athletically.  The girls loved him, and he loved them back, but he never got the intense, unbearable crushes that Matt did on some of girls he had dated.  Jeff had been such a good boy as he matured that Mr. Broman had been shocked to the core over the heroin incident.  There was obviously more going on under the somewhat placid, handsome surface of that young man than anyone thought.  Mike seemed to relate to Jeff especially well, though, and he apparently wasn't taking "no" for an answer when it came to making sure Jeff avoided substances and see a therapist.  Thank goodness for that.  Maybe Jeff would be willing to share what he discovered about himself in the therapeutic process with his family sometime.  If they could all just work together to get Jeff through the next few years unscathed and unscarred, Mr. Broman felt that all would be well with Jeff.  Mike was the key to that.
        And then there was Martha.  Martha made his heart sing.  Martha was the apple of his eye.  As close as he was to his boys, nothing could compare to the relationship between a man and his daughter when it was good.  And his relationship with Martha had always been better than good.  Martha was particularly easy for Mr. Broman to love because she was a young version of her mother.  Despite the huge investment of himself he had made in the law and the Supreme Court, Jane Broman had always been and continued to be the center of his universe.  Martha was a beautiful young woman with a good brain and abundant common sense who contributed mightily to making the Broman household stable and loving.  She had a relationship of easy affection with the entire family, but at the same time, she never took any crap from anyone inside the family or out.  She was a great athlete, and had compiled an academic record that was every bit as good as the boys, or better.  Like Matt, she had a heart for those on the bottom rung of the social ladder.  And she loved animals so much that she wanted to make working with them her vocation.  To her dad, there was no one like Martha, and he often thanked God for the gift of her to the family, particularly because he and his wife had despaired of ever having a girl by the time she came along.  He and Martha could, and did, spend hours together talking when he was home, and they were never bored with one another.  He felt very protective of her, and a standard part of his daily prayers was that she would find someone who was worthy of her love and would love her the way she deserved.
        Mr. Broman was unconsciously smiling with good thoughts of his family when Matt's eyes opened and he looked over at his dad.  Matt smiled back at him.  Then Matt reached over and gently kissed Mike's forehead, waking him.
        Mike rolled over and looked at his dad.
        "Dad, how are you feeling?" he asked.
        "Top notch.  That was a good nap.  Let me run back to my room and wash my face, and I'll be ready to go.  Are we dressing up or dressing down for supper?"
        "It's pretty hot out.  How about golf shirts and shorts?" Mike answered.  "Let's get comfortable and go somewhere casual,   ' K?"
        "Brilliant thought, dude!" Matt said.  "One of a multitude of brilliant thoughts you've had, I might add."
        "Aw, shucks," Mike said, feigning modesty.
        "I'll go change clothes and be right back," Mr. Broman said.  "I picked up a car at the airport, by the way.  So, see you in a minute."
        Mr. Broman grabbed his suitcoat and left, and the boys pulled off their T's and put on open-necked golf shirts.  Ten minutes later they were all in the car on their way to a nearby Chili's for ribs, fries and beer.  They had a good time talking about sports and what was going on in the world.  On the way back to the motel they decided they would all get up early the next morning and go to mass at the Cathedral.
        They all watched TV together for a few minutes in Matt's and Mike's room when they got back.  Matt got a wicked glint in his eye.
        "Dad, I'm sure you know I'm on an never-ending quest to find jokes that'll improve Mike's sense of humor.  He needs a lot of help.  I think it's time for a sample, don't you?"
        "Oh, no!" Mike said.  "Don't play the fool in front of Dad, now."
        "You know I love jokes," Justice Broman said with a smile.  "Let's hear it."
        "A guy walks into a bar in Arkansas and orders a white wine. Everybody  sitting around the bar looks up, certain they would see some pitiful yankee.
        "The bartender looks up and says,  'You ain't from around here, are ya??? Where ya from, boy?'
        "The guy says, 'I'm from Iowa.'
        "The bartender asks, 'What the heck you do in Iowa?'
        "The guy responds, 'I'm a taxidermist.'
        "The bartender asks,  'A taxidermist? Now just what the heck is a taxidermist?
        "The guy says nervously, 'I mount animals.'
        "The bartender looks startled, and then grins and shouts out  to the whole bar, 'It's okay boys, he's one of us!'"    
        Mr. Broman guffawed, and Mike had to smile in spite of himself.
        "I know a couple of guys back in Washington who are going to love that one," the justice said, still laughing.
        "Well, it wasn't the worst story you've ever told," Mike said.  "That's the only comment I'll make."
        Mr. Broman soon excused himself to go to bed.  The sons exchanged hugs and kisses with their dad, and thanked him again for coming to Hartford when by rights he should be at home vacationing with their mom.  He waved away their thanks, and went to his room.
        The moment the door shut, Matt faced Mike, put his hands on his partner's shoulders, and just looked into his eyes for a moment, brown into blue.
        "I love you so much, Mike.  You make me feel so good.  Now that you're here, and Dad's here, I really don't have any doubt that Peter Bell is gonna kick ass tomorrow like you wouldn't believe."
        "Well, stop thanking me!" Mike said.  "Every time you do, it makes me feel bad that it took me this long to get off my ass, make arrangements for Jeff, and get over here.  I'm sorry I was so slow."
        They drew together in a long kiss, and then Matt stepped back, pulled Mike's shirt off, and let it fall to the floor.  They continued to kiss intermittently as they each removed the other's clothing and finally fell to the bed naked, fully aroused and clinging to each other.  They unabashedly admired one another's body.
        "Damn, you look good!" Matt said, looking at Mike's chest and abs.  "You been working out without me?"  He licked each of Mike's nipples, and they started to firm up.
        "Yea, I been workin' out, but not exactly the way I would have preferred," Mike said with a leer.
        Matt licked Mike's nipples again.  Then he reached down and palmed Mike's penis gently but firmly.
        "You don't know how glad I am so see this bad boy," he said with a smile as he squeezed it.
        "He's here for ya, babe," Mike said.  "He mentioned just this morning that he wondered where you were.  Heh heh.  He and I don't communicate the same way when you're not around, but I know he has designs on your bod."
        "Well, cool it for a few.  My tongue wants to take a Mikey tour."
        "No, you cool it.  The muscles in your neck and back are tight as a drum from this bullshit trial.  You're gonna get a good massage before we do anything else.  And believe me, I have a long list of things on my 'to do' list."
        Mike got up from the bed, his dick hard and pointed straight up toward his navel.  He went over to his bag and pulled out some body oil.
        "I brought this just for you, bro," he said.
        They turned down the bedspread, and Mike laid Matt out on his stomach on some bath towels.  Pouring oil in one hand and warming it, Mike slathered it generously on Matt's neck and shoulders, and then began deep massaging, gradually increasing the pressure and then moving down his partner's beautiful body.  Matt's skin was perfect and glowing with health, as always.  He began to groan appreciatively as Mike warmed to his task, even using his elbows instead of his hands sometimes for maximum pressure.  He deliberately brushed Matt's pucker with his fingers several times while he was working on Matt's buttocks, bringing forth a quick intake of breath on Matt's part each time.  He stuck his tongue in there just once and wiggled it around in his partner's hole before leaving his ass.
        Matt said, "Oh, yeah!" and groaned with pleasure.
        Moving down, Mike massaged Matt's upper legs and calves thoroughly and went on to his ankles and feet.  Before he oiled the feet, he licked and sucked each of his partner's toes.  Finished with that pleasant task, he put on the oil and used his thumbs to massage the bottom of each foot thoroughly, once again to Matt's great pleasure.
        Gently turning his brother over on his back, Mike noticed that Matt was rock hard and had produced a few drops of pre-cum.  He oiled Matt's upper chest, and sitting back on his haunches, stretched out his arms to massage his partner's pecs while at the same time bending his head down and licking up the pre-cum.  He avoided touching Matt's groin with his hands as he moved his ministrations steadily downward, finally completing his task with the instep of each foot and then Matt's arms, wrists and hands.
        "Thanks, man," Matt said as he lay there totally relaxed except for his dick, which was stiff and begging for action, flexing slightly with each heartbeat.
        "You rest for a little while, and then I'm gonna wake you up and ravish you, ' K?" Mike suggested.
        He lifted Matt's body a bit to pull down the top sheet and crawled into bed beside him, kissing his chest and face.  They both dropped off to sleep for twenty minutes.
        When they awakened, Matt was still totally relaxed.
        "I want to make love to you, Matt.  You just stay relaxed, ' K?"
        Matt nodded wordlessly.
        Mike placed him on his back, and putting his partner's legs on his shoulders, began first to rim him and then to probe and push his oil-coated middle finger into his ass.  Matt breathed in and out slowly and contentedly.  At the point Mike's three fingers were well inserted in Matt's rectum, he pulled them out, oiled up his dick, and began to slide it in with almost no resistance.  He was soon completely inserted inside Matt to his pubes, and remained motionless looking into Matt's eyes until he was sure his brother was comfortable.  Mike began pumping ever-so-slowly, making each stroke long and deliberate, pulling out almost to the sphincter and then re-entering to the hilt.  Matt began groaning quietly and contentedly as Mike's pace gradually increased and then peaked long, long minutes later when Matt felt his brother's seed coating his insides.  Mike collapsed on his brother's hard body.
        Matt's precum had puddled on his stomach, but he had not yet ejaculated.  When Mike came out of his post-coital coma, he licked up the clear, sweet juice and then began to fellate Matt, almost bringing him to climax three times and backing off as Matt begged each time to be allowed to come.  The fourth time that Matt was on the brink, Mike took him across the river and received such a blast of cum in his mouth that he couldn't swallow fast enough.  It ran from the corners of his mouth and splashed on Matt's taut stomach.  When his mind and body finally conjoined again after the searing pleasure of orgasm, Matt scooped up the excess splooge and fed it to Mike and to himself.  Mike collapsed on Matt's body as before, his dick still semi-hard and up Matt's ass.
        Exhausted and completely sated, they fell asleep for good that night with the unmistakable musk of cum wafting around their bed, aroma therapy at its best.
         *  *  *
        After attending a low mass at the Cathedral at 7 a.m. the next morning,  Justice Broman and his two sons went to breakfast and then headed to the courthouse a little early for a meeting with Peter Bell.  The two lawyers talked shop for a few minutes, and then turned their attention to Matt's case.  Bell reaffirmed his satisfaction with the way the case was going.  The prosecution had rested its case, and so it was highly unlikely that there would be any surprise, last minute witnesses from the People that they had conveniently failed to notify the defense about as they were supposed to do.  So the strategy was to keep on doing what they had been doing so well--creating reasonable doubt, and then more of it, one witness at a time.
        Judge Jackson convened the court at 9:30.  The courtroom was full to overflowing, and the judge immediately recognized Justice Broman sitting directly behind the defense table with a young man he didn't know.  The two jurists' eyes met, but there was no acknowledgment.
        "Mr. Bell, are you prepared to call your first witness?"
        "Yes, your honor.  The defense calls Colonel Arthur Metzlaar to the stand."
        A moderately tall, completely bald and burly man in a business suit rose from where he was sitting about half-way back in the courtroom, and came forward.  After he was sworn, he sat in the witness chair and his gaze swept the room.  The man looked tough, unflappable, and in control, exactly how a twenty year police veteran and head of the command structure of the Connecticut State Police should look.
        Bell smiled grimly to himself.  It was truth or consequences time for the chief of the Connecticut State Police.  Let the inquisition begin anew.  Somebody would be going to jail as a result of all this, but Bell was pretty sure it wouldn't be Matthew J. Broman, Jr.

Part 6

        Jeff bounced into the den of the condo after work, trailed by a cute, sweet-faced blonde, about 5'9", with a nice tan and a voluptuous figure.
        Stan Rosinski and Linda Kosco were sitting on the couch, holding hands and watching television.  Stan, like the gentleman he was becoming under Linda's tutelage, stood up to greet Jeff's companion.
        "Hi, guys," Jeff said.  "I want you to meet Andie Parker.  She lifeguards with me at Oak Street Beach.  Andie, this is Stan Rosinski and his fiancée', Linda Kosco.  They're keeping me company while my brothers are out of town."
        "Hi, Andie," Stan said.  He snapped off the TV with the remote and pulled a chair up to the coffee table for her.  "It's nice to meet you."
        "Same here," Andie said with a killer smile.  "It's really nice of you guys to stay with Jeff.  He needs a little guidance from time to time."
        Linda laughed.
        "All these boys need guidance from time to time," she said, kissing Stan's cheek.  "It's part of their socialization process.  They end up almost human."
        "Oh, man, it's started already," Jeff groaned.  "We hafta let them live with their delusions, I s'pose," he said, looking at Stan for confirmation.
        "Yep," Stan said.  "'It's 'yes, dear,'  'no, dear,'  and let's not forget  'of course you're right, dear.'  Those are the only words you'll ever need to maintain domestic harmony.  Aren't cha proud of me for knowing that already, Lin?"
        "I'm always proud of you, sweetheart," Linda answered with a smile.
        "What are you guys up to?" Stan asked.
        "Well, I thought if you were gonna have supper here, we could order some pizza or something," Jeff said.
        "I have a chicken roasting, Jeff, and there's plenty for all of us," Linda said.  "Why don't you and Andie eat with us?"
        Jeff looked at Andie inquiringly.
        "That would be really nice, Linda.  Thanks," Andie said.  "Is that OK with you, Jeff?"
        "Hmmm.  Yeah!!  Real food!  Linda's a great cook.  Stan'll have a gut in 5 years tops if he doesn't watch it!" Jeff said.  "A big gut!"
        "You're prolly right about that!" Stan agreed.  "I gotta start getting more exercise, fer sure!"
        "I'll go make some salad, and the dumplings are already cooking," Linda said.  "You want anything else, guys?"
        "Nope," Jeff said.  "Maybe ice cream and cookies for dessert, huh?"
        "Sounds good to me," Stan said.
        "I'll help you, Linda," Andie said.
        "And why don't we eat in the dining room?" Jeff said as the ladies stood.  "I'll set the table if you really, really want me to."  He looked at Andie with big brown, puppy dog eyes
        "No, we can do it," Andie said with a grin.  "But you're pathetic, Jeff, you know that?"
        "Yes, dear," he monotoned.
        Stan laughed.  "You've learned fast."  Stan idly studied Andie's backside as she left the room.  "Nice girl, dude.  You been dating her long?"
        "About a month.  She's great!  I really like her."
        "She in school?"
        "Yeah," Jeff said.  "She'll be a junior at Northwestern this fall.  Her parents live in Wilmette."
        "Hmmm.  The family must have some bucks."
        "Yeah.  She's on a full boat academic scholarship, though, and she's majoring in physics, for gosh sakes.  She's really smart!"
        "I can tell.  And she's got your number, fer sure, bro!" Stan said.
        "'Fraid so," Jeff laughed.  Pause.  "Uh, can I ask ya something?"
        "Yep."
        "Would be all right if I asked Andie to stay here tonight?"
        Stan contemplated Jeff with a smile.
        "Hey, man, I'm not the sex police, and we're not keeping tabs on ya for Mike.  We're just here to keep ya company.  Let me ask you one thing, though.  What would Mike say if he were sitting here and you were asking him that question?"
        "Hmmm.  Well, he'd want to know if I really care about this girl and whether it looks like it's gonna be a long-term relationship."
        "Well?" Stan asked.
        "Um, yeah, well, I care about her.  A lot, even though we've only known each other for a month.  On the long-term thing, I honestly don't know.  I'm going back to school in Pennsylvania when the summer's over, so..."
        "I'm sure a good lookin' guy like you has seen plenty of action up to this point, so you know the drill.  But you've kind of answered your own question, haven't cha?" Stan asked.
        "Yeah, you're right.  Shit!  But I enjoy being a mindless fucking-machine."
        Stan grinned.
        "I hear that, dude!  From puberty on, I had all the pussy I could handle and despised anybody who didn't, until your brothers kinda opened my eyes about the way I was living my life.  In many respects.  And then I met Linda.  Now, I'm not saying I don't think about it when I see a good looking woman walk by, you understand, but I'm taking a different approach these days.  I'm not preaching atcha, though, or at least I don't mean to be.  With my history, I don't have any room to talk."
        "No, I hear ya.  I guess you're right.  But I'll prolly kick myself for this tonight when I climb into bed alone."
        "Maybe, maybe not."  Stan looked down at the floor thoughtfully, and then back up at Jeff.  "Do you know how I came to be friends with your brothers?" he asked.
        "You all used to work at the Hospice, that's all I know."
        "There's a little more to it than that.  If you had known me when I first met Matt and Mike, you'd have thought I was the biggest asshole in the world, and you would've been right.  I'd been abused by my stepfather until I was old enough to move out and live with the family of a friend, and I was totally wack.  I was passing on all the shit I'd had to take all those years to anybody within range.  I was the classic bully.  Anybody who was smaller, weaker or a little different was fair game for me.  If you were a guy and couldn't beat me in a fight, you were a fag as far as I was concerned.  I was the next best thing to a Nazi skinhead.  I hated everything and despised everybody who wasn't white, heterosexual and stronger than I was.  I look at the way I treated people back then, and I'm really ashamed.  I sure didn't have anybody at Hospice I could call a friend.
        "One day in the cafeteria after Matt and Mike had joined the staff, I had just bought some lunch and was on my way to sit down," Stan continued.  "I walked by this kid, another aide, a nice kid, who was just minding his own business and eating some soup, and 'accidentally' bumped into him and spilled his soup all over him.  Accidentally on purpose.
        "Matt was eating not too far from the kid, and helped the kid clean up and such.  Then Matt just continued eating lunch.  When he was finished, he put his dishes on the conveyor and came over and sat down across from me and told me how he hated to see anybody make of fool of himself the way I just had.  I got in his face and told him he was probably a fag, but that didn't faze him a bit.  I wasn't sure I could take him, either--I'm a little taller, but he's built, y'know.  So fortunately I just got outta there.  I didn't know then that he was a championship wrestler.
        "Well, you know how persistent Matt is.  From then on, he made a point of sitting down across from me at lunch every damn day and just talking to me.  Nobody at Hospice ever talked to me unless they had to.  He's not someone you can ignore, so we talked about a lot of things.  I even started to open up a little bit about my background and some of the things I'd been through when I was growing up.  One of the last times we talked while he was still there, he told me that he and Mike were partners.  I didn't know whether to believe him or not.  He said that most people are struggling just to get through every day with the gifts they've been given to work with, and the least we can do, if we can't help 'em, is not to hurt 'em.  That stuck with me after he and Mike left to go back to school, and I started to change my ways a little, although I was still kind of a dick, even then.  Changing the way you look at things is usually a slo-o-w process."
        Jeff smiled.
        "Then when Mike came back to town," Stan continued, "he used to come over to Hospice and get on my case about going to back to school and being a real leader among the aides.  He told me that he would pay my tuition and books if I took some courses at a community college while I continued working, and that if I got an associate's degree, that he would pay all my expenses, full freight, at any 4 year university I wanted to attend to finish up.  Long story short, I did, starting with a psychology course that kind of opened my eyes about a lot of things, including my own behavior.  I just finished up my associate degree in finance, thinking about hospital administration, which I may or may not pursue.  I may go straight business, I don't know.  Anyway, I start at U. of I. Chicago this fall for the rest of my undergrad work."
        "Man, that's great!  Congratulations!" Jeff said.  They bumped fists.  "No wonder Matt and Mike are proud of you."
        "Thanks.  Oh, and I should mention Mike made me get some counseling about being abused as a kid and some other shit.  So, thanks to your brothers, I'm almost a human being today.  I don't know how I'll ever pay them back for what they've done for me."
        "That's just so excellent, man!" Jeff said.  "You must feel good about what you've accomplished."
        "I do, I admit it.  And I know that I wouldn't have stood a chance in hell of getting Linda to go out with me and eventually agree to marry me if I hadn't had some help changing my ways."
        "Uh, if you don't wanna answer this, don't, but how do you feel about Matt and Mike being gay?" Jeff asked.
        Stan paused before he answered.
        "Well, I don't claim to understand how or why people are gay.  I don't know anybody who would deliberately choose that orientation because of all the shit you hafta take about it along the way.  I'll tell ya, though, if I were gay, I'd have to go some to find anybody better or better looking than either of them."  Stan laughed.  "Hey, I don't hafta understand being gay to know they love each other the way I love Linda.  I know them.  I know they're good people, exceptionally good people.  You must have one hell of a fine family, Jeff, to have produced you and your brothers.  Am I supposed to be a prick about the fact Matt and Mike love each other and make love to each other?  Am I their judge?  I don't think so.  Hell, I  love 'em."  Stan laughed again.  "So to answer your question, I finally grew up, and I'm cool with them and their partnership."
        Just then Linda called them to eat.
        They gathered in the dining room, and on impulse Jeff asked everyone to hold hands as he offered thanks for their food and asked God's help for Matt.  He wondered with quick astonishment as he finished if he were somehow turning into his parents and his brothers when it came to religion.  He seated Andie as Stan seated Linda, and they began eating.
        They all enjoyed a great meal together.  After the men cleaned up the dining room and kitchen, they all went up to the roof to swim in the pool and sit in the hot tub for awhile.  Andie used her Park District lifeguard swimsuit because she didn't have her 'civvies' with her.  Jeff kept begging her to "save me," to which she kept replying that he was "too far gone."
         *  *  *
        Andrew Metzlaar stared down imperiously at his inquisitor, Peter Bell, from the witness stand as Matt stole a quick look behind him at his dad and brother.  Mike gave Matt a quick thumbs-up.
        "Colonel Metzlaar, please tell the court how long you've been commander of the Connecticut State Police?" Peter Bell asked.
        "Two years."
        "Who appointed you to your present position?"
        "William Bradford, when he was elected state governor."
        "And your previous position was?"
        "I was director of operations for the State Police."
        "So, the Governor is your direct supervisor?"
        "No, I report to the director of the Department of Public Safety.  I'm a deputy director of Public Safety."
        "Where is the state governor in the chain of command of the Connecticut State Police?" Bell asked.
        "The governor isn't in the chain of command, technically."
        "So he doesn't give you orders directly, is that correct?"
        "Yes, that's correct." Metzlaar said.
        "Colonel, do you have a private telephone line in your office?"
        "Yes."
        "Who answers that line when it rings?"
        "I do.  My secretary does if I'm not there or I don't pick up right away."
        "No one else?"
        "No."
        "Why did the Governor call you on the date the defendant was arrested?"
        "I don't recall that he did."
        "Your honor, I ask the court's permission to refer to Defense Exhibit 1, which shows that the private line assigned to Andrew Metzlaar received a call from the governor's mansion at 12:30 p.m. on the day the defendant was arrested."
        "Granted."
        Bell brought over the exhibit and had Metzlaar read from it.
        "Can you confirm that the two telephone numbers you just read from the certified telephone company records are your private number and a telephone at the governor's mansion?" Bell asked.
        "Yes," Metzlaar said grudgingly.
        "Let me repeat my question, then," Bell said.  "What did you and the governor talk about on the date and time in question?"
        "I don't recall."
        "Your honor, request permission to treat the witness as hostile," Bell said.
        "Granted."
        "The Governor gave you some instructions, instructions which you initially protested, isn't that correct?" Bell asked.  "I remind you that you're under oath, Mr. Metzlaar."
        "Objection, your honor," Ms. Gossett said.
        "Overruled," Judge Jackson said.  "The witness will answer the question."
        "I don't recall," Metzlaar answered again, glaring at Bell.
        "Governor Bradford told you to send one of your men to the Hilton Hartford to search the room of Matthew J. Broman, Jr., didn't he?"
        "No."
        "And he told you that the search better turn up something illegal if you wanted to keep your job, isn't that right?" Bell bore down on the witness.
        "Absolutely not, counselor.  Those would have been illegal and improper instructions from an elected official to a sworn officer," Metzlaar countered.
        "I'm glad you recognize that, sir.  Once again referring to the telephone records, you placed a call to Lt. Wolf shortly after you received the call from the Governor, did you not?  And followed up with a call to Dispatch, for their records, to have Lt. Wolf sent to the Hilton Hartford?"
        "I don't recall doing so, no."
        "Mr. Metzlaar, are the telephone records detailing these calls all a horrible, technological error?  Are the computers conspiring against you?"
        "I don't know."  Metzlaar didn't look quite as sure of himself as when he'd taken the stand.
        "We have sworn testimony from Diane Campbell of your own dispatch unit that you called her and specified that Lt. Wolf was to be sent to the Hilton Hartford.  Did you do so?"
        "I suppose so."
        "You suppose so!  Is that a 'yes' or a 'no?'" Bell demanded.
        "Yes!" Metzlaar admitted reluctantly.
        "Why did you send the area commander to search a hotel room?"
        "I wanted to make certain there were no mistakes made in getting the job done," Metzlaar said.
        "The job?  What led you to believe that there was something to be found in that particular hotel room?"
        "I had word from a confidential informant that there might be contraband."
        "Who is that informant?" Bell asked.
        "I can't divulge the identity of my informant."
        "Your honor, I ask that the witness be required to answer."
        "Colonel, the defendant has a right to confront his accuser," Judge Jackson said firmly. "You will answer the question."
        "I respectfully decline to do so, your honor."
        "You will answer the question, Colonel, or I will hold you in contempt of this court," Judge Jackson said.
        "Conference in your chambers, your honor?" Ms. Gossett asked.
        "Granted.  We'll be in recess for 10 minutes."  Judge Jackson tapped his gavel and left the bench as everyone rose to their feet.  The lawyers followed the judge into his chambers.
        "This better be good, Ms. Gossett," the judge warned the prosecutor as he hung up his robe and sat down behind his desk.
        "Your honor, given the senior position of the officer being questioned and the importance of confidential informants to police work, I ask that Colonel Metzlaar not be required to reveal the identity of his informant."
        Peter Bell was about to speak, but the judge held up his hand to stop him.
        "Ms. Gossett, you know better than to test my patience this way.  You've brought the defendant before the bar on charges which are far from proven by the evidence thus far, and you don't want the jury to know who provided the information leading to his arrest?  I don't think so."
        "Judge, what if we bring Colonel Metzlaar into chambers and let him reveal the informant to you, and then you decide whether or not he will have to reveal the name of the informant in open court?" the prosecutor proposed.
        "Do you know who the informant is?" Judge Jackson asked.
        "No, sir," Ms. Gossett said.
        "Mr. Bell, any objection?"
        "No, Judge," Bell said.
        "All right," the judge sighed.  "Bring Colonel Metzlaar into chambers," he instructed the bailiff.
        Colonel Metzlaar strode into chambers.  The judge did not offer him a chair.
        "Colonel, the prosecutor has proposed that you reveal the identity of the informant to me and allow me to decide whether the identity of that person needs to go into the record.  The defense has agreed."
        Metzlaar stared at the floor, saying nothing.
        "Colonel, who was your informant?" Judge Jackson asked.
        After a long silence, Metzlaar looked at the judge.
        "Governor William Bradford," he said.
        Peter Bell hid a smile.
        Judge Jackson leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, staring at Metzlaar.
        "Does the governor provide you a lot of tips on people allegedly carrying contraband, Colonel?"
        "No, sir."
        "Well, then, inasmuch as there is no danger in compromising his future usefulness to the police as an informant, my ruling is that you will reveal your informant for the record in open court," the judge said.  "Let's get back in there."
        Back in court, the judge restated his ruling for the record, and invited Mr. Bell to repeat his question.
        "Mr. Metzlaar, who informed you that the defendant allegedly had drugs in his possession at the Hilton Hartford?"
        "Governor William Bradford," Metzlaar said grimly.
        Court spectators began murmuring, and several reporters jumped up and left the courtroom.
        Judge Jackson rapped his gavel smartly, and the hubbub died.
        "What did the Governor say to you?" Bell asked.
        "He told me to have the room of Matthew J. Broman, Jr., at the Hilton Hartford, searched."
        "Was that all he said?"
        "No."
        "He told me the search should continue until something was found.," Metzlaar admitted reluctantly.
        "What did you understand the Governor to mean by the word, 'something?'"
        "I assumed he meant something incriminating."
        "Objection, your honor," Ms. Gossett said.  "Speculation."
        "Normally, Ms. Gossett, I would sustain you," the judge said. "But why else would anyone have a policeman sent somewhere to conduct a search?  Overruled."
        "How did you feel about carrying out this search, Colonel?" Bell asked.
        "Uncomfortable."
        "What do you mean by that?"
        "It was outside of our usual operating parameters," Metzlaar said.
        "Did you argue with the governor?"
        "Yes.  I asked  him why he thought there was something to be found in Broman's room, and he didn't say.  He just told me to get the job done."
        "Did the governor threaten you?" Bell asked.
        "Well, he asked me if I liked my job."
        "So, Colonel Metzlaar, you accepted instructions from an elected official, someone not in the chain of command of your organization, to conduct a search for something unknown, based on that official's word only, without probable cause, is that correct?"
        "Yes.  Although I thought at the time that even an unspecific tip from the state's governor would constitute cause."
        "Would you respond today as you did then?" Bell asked.
        Metzlaar hesitated.
        "No, probably not," he said quietly.
        "I have no more questions of this witness, your honor."
        "Ms. Gossett?" the judge inquired.
        "Colonel Metzlaar, did you have any reason to doubt at the time that the governor's tip wasn't based in real knowledge on his part that something was amiss in Room 823 at the Hilton Hartford?" the prosecutor asked.
        "Not really."
        "No more questions, your honor," Ms Gossett said.
        "Mr. Bell, call your next witness," Judge Jackson instructed.
        "Call William Bradford," Bell said.
        "William Bradford," the bailiff repeated loudly.
        Matt's erstwhile father-in-law, dressed in a dark blue Armani suit and red power tie, stepped forward and was sworn.  He took the stand and glared down at Peter Bell.
        From his vantage point behind the defense table, Justice Broman studied the governor's patrician face carefully as he took the stand.  He wondered if the man had slipped a cog mentally to fabricate such an outrageous story and have Matt arrested.  He well understood that there were people who, for a variety of reasons, held nothing but hatred and contempt for gay people.  What he couldn't understand was how an educated and heretofore dedicated public servant like William Bradford could forswear his oath of office and heap contempt on the laws by which they were all supposed to live, by manufacturing such an injurious story about his son--about the young man once married to his daughter and the father of his grandchildren.  To do such a thing just wasn't consistent with the governor's record of service to the country and to his state.  He wanted to believe that Bradford was ill, not morally bankrupt.  Those who said that the people of the United States, as a whole, had completely lost their moral compass were full of crap, in his opinion.  But he knew that when it came to the elite, the leadership of the country, well, unfortunately that was sometimes a whole other story.
        "Sir, will you state your name for the record?" Bell asked.
        "William Bradford."
        "And the office you hold?"
        "Governor of the State of Connecticut."
        "I ask you to recall the day that the defendant, your former son-in-law, was arrested at your home," Bell began.
        "Yes."  The governor's voice was resonant and authoritative sounding.
        "Mr. Broman joined you for lunch that day, is that correct?"
        "Yes."
        "Was anyone else present at lunch?" Bell asked.
        "Yes.  My wife, Mary and my grandson, Kyle."
        "How old is Kyle?"
        "Two and one-half, going on three."
        "What did you and your guest do after lunch?"
        "We, along with Mrs. Bradford, went into an adjoining sitting room to talk."
        "Was this on your initiative?" Bell asked.
        "No.  Mr. Broman asked to talk with us."
        "Can you summarize the conversation for the court?"
        "We talked about our grandchildren and other mundane matters.  Suddenly, out of the blue, the defendant stated that he was now in the business of smuggling drugs, and asked if we wanted any."
        The courtroom broke into an uproar, and Judge Jackson slammed his gavel down just one time.  The room quieted, and the judge told the spectators that the courtroom would be cleared should there be any further disruption.  No one doubted him.
        "What occurred next?" Bell asked.
        "I asked him where he was staying.  He told me the Hilton Hartford, and I immediately telephoned the state police with the information he had given us."
        "Did you talk to anyone in particular at the state police?"
        "Yes.  Colonel Metzlaar."
        "What did you say to Colonel Metzlaar?"
        "I told him that my former son-in-law, Matthew J. Broman, Jr., had just informed me that he was distributing drugs, and I said that the police would do well to search his hotel room at the Hilton Hartford," Bradford said.  "And then to get back to me."
        "How did you know where Mr. Broman was staying?"
        "I asked him, and he told me."
        "So, Mr. Bradford, you're asking this court to believe that out of a clear, blue sky, the defendant volunteered to you and your wife that he was a drug smuggler, asked if you wanted any drugs, and then told you where he is staying so that you could inform the state police?"
        "Yes, that is correct."
        "Was there any other information exchanged during your conversation with the defendant?" Bell asked.
        "Other than speaking briefly about my two grandsons, whom he is raising, not that I recall."
        "Do you consider the defendant a stupid man?"
        "Objection, your honor," Ms. Gossett said.  "Calls for an opinion."
        "I'll allow it," the judge stated.
        "Do you consider the defendant a stupid man?" Bell repeated.
        "No, not usually."
        "Did the defendant have any reason to believe you or your wife would be interested in procuring drugs?" Bell asked.
        "Objection, your honor," the prosecutor said.  "Calls for speculation."
        "Overruled, Ms. Gossett."
        "Did the defendant have any reason to believe you or your wife would be interested in procuring drugs?" Bell asked again.
        "No," the governor said.
        "So, Mr. Bradford, to summarize, you are asking the court to believe that the defendant, the man raising your two grandchildren, whom you say is not a stupid man, would tell you, the chief elected official of the state of Connecticut, that he is a drug smuggler and offer you and your wife some of his product with no expectation you would be interested, is that correct?" Bell asked.
        "Yes."
        "You must think the court and this jury are stupid, sir!" Bell said scornfully.
        "Objection."
        "Withdrawn," Bell said.  "I have no more questions of this witness."
        "Ms. Gossett?" the judge said.
        "No questions, your honor."
        "Mr. Bell, call your next witness," the judge instructed.
        "Your honor, given that the lunch hour is upon us and that the testimony of my next witness may be lengthy, I would ask that we resume after lunch," Bell said.
        "Ms. Gossett?"
        "No objection, your honor," the prosecutor said.
        "Very well, we stand in recess until 1:30 p.m.," Judge Jackson said, tapping his gavel.
        "All rise," the bailiff said as judge left the bench.
        Peter Bell spirited Matt, Mike and Justice Broman out yet a different courthouse door, this one in the basement, and into a waiting car.  They drove to an out-of-the-way little diner where they were unlikely to be recognized, and enjoyed a very upbeat meal together.  Justice Broman congratulated Bell on his interrogatory technique, and said that in his opinion, the governor had come across like the liar he was.  Mike could feel his guts begin to relax a bit after seeing first hand that the evidence seemed more and more supportive of an acquittal.
        They drove back to the courthouse, and dashed up the front steps before the media could block their way and extract  interviews.
        Back in the courtroom, Judge Jackson assumed the bench promptly at 1:30, and asked Bell to call his next witness.
        "Call Mary Bradford," the attorney instructed.
        "Mary Bradford, step forward and be sworn," the bailiff brayed.
        The diminutive first lady came forward, looking more tired and unwell than when Matt had seen her at the mansion the day  he was arrested.  She was sworn.
        "Please state your name for the record," Mr. Bell requested.
        "Mary Bradford."
        "Were you at lunch with your husband, your grandson, and the defendant at the Governor's mansion on the day the defendant was arrested?"
        "Yes, I was."
        "Did the defendant, during the course of that lunch, ask to talk with you and your husband after the meal was over?" Bell asked.
        "Yes, he did."
        "Where did the conversation take place?"
        "In a sitting room off the family dining room."
        "Was anyone present other than you, your husband and the defendant?"
        "No," Mrs. Bradford said.
        "Please tell us about that conversation," Bell requested.
        "Matt thanked us for our support and prayers following the death of his wife, our daughter, Sarah, in childbirth.  He said that he wanted to make certain that we always had a place in the lives of the twin boys that Sarah had given birth to.  He said that he and his adoptive brother Mike were going to 'partner' in raising the children."
        "What did your husband say to that?" Bell asked.
        "He wanted to know what 'partnering' meant."
        "What did the defendant say?"
        "Matt said that he and his adoptive brother, Mike, were in a gay relationship."
        The courtroom buzzed momentarily, but quieted as Judge Jackson surveyed the spectators sternly.
        Mike felt his stomach tighten, and he stared at the back of Matt's head as the latter sat beside his lawyer at the defense table.  Well, bro, he thought to himself, we're outed to the whole world now for sure.  The sisters at Hospice, the mayor of Chicago, our professors, Tony Angelo--our relationships with almost everybody we know in Chicago and everywhere else, for that matter, are likely to change, and in some cases, not for the good.  We've never been willing to live a lie, though, so we'll face this, and get through what we need to get through.  It would have been great if we had been able to reveal ourselves at our own pace, but that wasn't to be.  We don't get to choose the times or seasons of our victimization, but victimization is only humiliation if we allow it to be.  Together, we will respond to the situation as best we can, just as we always have.
        Suddenly Mike's love for his partner suffused him and renewed him, overwhelming all his fears and uncertainties. He took new counsel with himself.  His inner voice spoke to him clearly:  we have our love for each other, and we have the love of our family.  Those who can't accept us for what we are--fuck 'em!
        Mike felt a hand on his own.  Looking down at the bench between them, he saw that Justice Broman's hand had moved over gently to cover and hold his hand as they sat side by side.  That simple act of comfort and support at a time of such tremendous tension almost brought tears to Mike's eyes.
        Mary Bradford's testimony continued.
        "How did your husband respond to the admission that your former son-in-law is gay?" Bell asked.
        "He was furious, and stated that he would take the twins away from Matt and we would raise them ourselves."
        "What did you do?"
        "I tried to calm my husband down," Mrs. Bradford said.
        "Did the defendant respond?"
        "Matt said there was no way that he was giving up the twins, or words to that effect."
        "What happened then?" Bell asked.
        "Bill asked Matt where he was staying.  Then he called Colonel Metzlaar, and instructed him to have Matt's room at the Hilton Hartford searched for contraband, and not to stop searching until something was found."
        "Was there any further exchange between your husband the Colonel Metzlaar on the telephone?" Bell asked.
        "Yes, my husband asked whether or not the Colonel liked his job.  Mr. Metzlaar must not have wanted to do what he had been told."
        "Did any discussion about drugs take place?"
        "No."
        "Was the word 'drug' ever mentioned?"
        "No."
        "What happened after your husband talked with Colonel Metzlaar?"
        "The governor called the young trooper on duty in the executive mansion, and told him to 'detain' Matt, by chaining him to a radiator if necessary, until he gave further instructions."
        "Was anything further said by the defendant or your husband?" Bell asked.
        "Matt told Bill that his career in public life was over.  That's when I left the room."
        "Is your husband homophobic, Mrs. Bradford?"
        "I've never been conscious of it until recently, but yes, I think so now."
        "Do you think his homophobia explains his actions?"
        "Yes, I do," Mary Bradford said sadly.
        "I have no more questions for this witness, your honor," Bell said, and went back to the defense table.
        Before Judge Jackson could invite Ms. Gossett to cross examine the witness, State's Attorney Al Shaffer rose from his seat toward the back of the room and came to the gate leading to the well of the courtroom.
        "Your honor, may I approach?"
        Judge Jackson looked up in surprise, and beckoned Shaffer and the other two lawyers to come to the bench.
        "Your honor," Shaffer said, "I'm requesting the court's permission to join Ms. Gossett for the prosecution at this time."
        "This is unusual, Mr. Shaffer, but inasmuch as all prosecutions within this jurisdiction are your responsibility, your request is granted."  Cynthia Gossett looked at her boss in surprise.
        "Thank you, your honor.  May I presume upon the good nature of the court to ask that I be given time to confer with Ms. Gossett before we proceed.  I request a recess until tomorrow."
        "Mr. Bell?" the judge asked.
        "No objection, your honor," Bell said.
        "Court is in recess until 9 a.m. tomorrow," Judge Jackson said, and tapped his gavel.  Everyone stood.  Delighted at the early release, the jury filed out after hearing the judge's usual admonishment not to discuss, view TV reports, or read about the case.
         *  *  *
        Cynthia Gossett and Al Shaffer walked together back to Shaffer's office.  Shaffer sat down behind his desk and looked inquiringly at his subordinate.
        "What do you think?" he inquired, eyebrows raised.
        "You mean, are we winning?  I don't think so," Ms. Gossett said.  "I have that sinking feeling."
        "You've just restored some of my confidence in your judgment," Shaffer said.  "Do you think the guy's guilty?"
        The woman looked at her boss thoughtfully for a moment.
        "I'm not sure anymore," she said.
        "Well, I'm sure--that this case is an unmitigated disaster!!" Shaffer said forcefully.  "There's obviously been a conspiracy to put this kid away because he's gay and Bradford doesn't want him raising the grandkids with his boyfriend or brother or whoever the hell the other guy is."
        "We might still have a shot," Cynthia Gossett said.  "Maybe I can get Mary Bradford to change her story."
        "Bullshit!  You know she didn't put her husband's career at risk and probably send her marriage down the tubes by getting up there and lying on the stand!  I think she told it just the way it went down.  If you ever wanted to see 'statements against interest,' look at her testimony!  The bottom line is, this office looks stupid as hell, and I don't like that!"
        The young woman started to respond, but then just closed her mouth and looked at her boss.  Their eyes locked, and the State's Attorney made a decision.
        "All right, Cynthia, here's what's gonna happen."  Shaffer gave his associate her instructions, and Cynthia Gossett sighed.
        "Got it," she said.  "God damn it, anyway!"
        "My sentiments exactly."
         *  *  *
        The next morning Judge Jackson assumed the bench promptly at 9 a.m., and began proceedings.
        "Mr. Bell, call your next witness," he said.
        "Your honor, the defense rests."
        "Very well.  I'll hear motions at this time," the judge said.
        "Your honor," Bell said, "the defense moves for a directed verdict of acquittal on the grounds that the state has failed to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt."
        "Mr. Shaffer, Ms. Gossett?"
        Cynthia Gossett rose from the prosecution table.
        "Your honor, the people have no objection," she said.
        The judge allowed himself a tiny smile.
        "The court grants the motion of the defense for a directed verdict of acquittal on the grounds that the case has not been proven beyond a reasonable doubt.  The defendant is free to go.  The jury is discharged with the thanks of the court.  Mr. Shaffer, I trust that your office will be examining the testimony of certain witnesses at this trial for possible charges of perjury and conspiracy."
        "Yes, your honor," Shaffer said.
        "Court is adjourned," Judge Jackson said.  As he left the bench, he sent a quick smile in Matt Broman's direction.
        The courtroom erupted into sound and motion.  Matt stood and shook hands with Peter Bell, and then pulled him into an embrace.
        "Thank you, thank you," Matt said in his ear.  "Great job!  I'm really thankful!"
        "You were innocent, Matt.  That's the way it's supposed to work for innocent people," Bell responded with a grin.
        Justice Broman and Mike came through the gate into the well of the courtroom and held Matt in a long, three-way hug.
        "You see, the system does work!" Matt's dad said to him.  "Congratulations, Matt!"
        "Thank you, Dad.  And thank you for your support!" Matt said.  "I wouldn't have made it without you and Mike and the family."
        "I love you, Matt," Mike whispered.  "That's all I can say right now.  I'll show you just how much later."
        "Counselor, I stand in awe," Justice Broman said to Peter Bell.  "The word 'masterful' comes to mind when I look at the case you presented."
        "Matthew, the facts spoke for themselves, really," Bell said.  "Every now and again we defense attorneys get to defend an innocent man, and this was one of those times.  You've raised two great sons here, and I'm pleased to have played some small part in vindicating Matt."
        "You're too modest, Peter," the justice said.  "I'm very grateful to you.  Money alone won't convey my thanks, but yours is one bill I'm going to be happy to pay."
        Matt searched the courtroom with his eyes until he saw Mary Bradford standing to leave the courtroom alone.  Excusing himself, he made a beeline for her.  He walked up to her and gave her a hug and kiss.  She felt small and frail in his arms.  Her eyes teared up.
        "Matt, I'm so very sorry this happened to you.  I wish I could make it up to you somehow."
        "Put that thought out of your mind.  Will you join my father and brother and me for a cup of coffee as soon as we get out of here?  Mike and I really want to talk to you."
        "I'm surprised you can even look at me after what Bill did," she said.
        "That was the governor, not you.  You told the truth, and it was tough to do under the circumstances.  You'll always be family to me, Mom."
        "You're a sweetheart, Matt.  Sarah was a lucky woman.  Well, all right.  Shall I meet you somewhere for coffee?"
        "If you can hang on here while we deal with the press, we can all leave together, OK?"
        Hand in hand they walked to the front of the courtroom and joined Peter Bell, Justice Broman and Mike.  Matthew Broman, Sr., without a word, enfolded the frail woman in his arms and kissed her cheek.
        "Stars in your crown, Mary Bradford," he said to her quietly as he held her.  Her only response was a modest shake of her head.
        "Well, let's go face the ravening wolves of the fourth estate," Peter Bell said.  They all moved to the front steps of the courthouse, by now radiating mid-morning waves of heat in the late summer sun.
        The cameras began rolling, and Peter Bell read a short, prepared statement to the assembled crowd in front of a bank of microphones.
        "Matthew J. Broman, Jr., and his family are gratified at the outcome of this trial, in which highly placed conspirators attempted to have him convicted of a crime he did not commit in order to take his two children away from him.  Although the trial should not have been necessary at all, Judge Jackson conducted the case in a completely fair and impartial manner.  We believe that the directed verdict of acquittal from the judge was required by the evidence, or more precisely, the lack of evidence against Mr. Broman, and we are grateful to the State's Attorney's office in not objecting to our motion for that verdict.  We will now entertain a few questions."
        Bell stepped back from the microphones as the reporters began to jostle for attention.
        "Justice Broman, what do you think of your two gay sons raising your grandchildren?"
        "There's only one story that's worth reporting here today:  trumped up charges against my son Matthew have been shown to be the lies they always have been," the jurist said.  "I'm gratified that once again our American system of justice has triumphed, and that now our family's life can get back to normal."
        "Matt," shouted another reporter, "do you think Governor Bradford, Colonel Metzlaar and Lt. Wolf should go to jail?"
        "That will be up to the prosecutor and the courts.  I have no opinion on that."
        "Mrs. Bradford, how do you feel about the lies your husband told on the witness stand?"
        Mary Bradford looked stunned by the question, and recoiled from the crowd of reporters.
        "Mrs. Bradford has no comment at this time," Peter Bell said into the microphones.  Matt put his arm around her.
        "Michael Broman, how do you feel about what's transpired here in Connecticut?" another reporter probed.
        "Resentful, if you want to know the truth," Mike said.  "This trial never should have happened.  But I'm gratified that the public knows now what his family has known all along, that Matt is not a criminal.  In fact, he's one of the finest human beings I have ever been privileged to know.  Print that, why don't you!"
        "Ladies and gentlemen, that will be all the questions we'll take at this time," Peter Bell said.  "Thank you for being here."
        He stepped back from the bank of microphones and led Justice Broman, Matt, Mike and Mary Bradford down the steps and into a big black limousine at the curb as reporters and photographers snapped at their heels.  Once inside the car, they all breathed a sigh of relief and looked at one another silently, a little shell-shocked.  As the car rolled away, Bell gave the driver his office address, and was dropped off there, taking with him the sincere and repeated thanks of the Bromans.
        Justice Broman sat in the back seat beside Mary Bradford, with Matt and Mike facing them in the car's middle seat, holding hands.
        "Matt, call your mom," Justice Broman suggested.
        Matt pulled out his cell phone, turned it on, dialed, and gave his very happy mother the good news.  Then he handed the phone to his dad and then to Mike for a few words, and then they hung up and sat in silence.
        "Dad, I wanna get home and see the kids," Matt said finally.  "The sooner the better.  But we need to stop somewhere for brunch so Mike and I can talk to Mary."
        "All right," Justice Broman said.  "Do you need some privacy?"
        "No. We don't have any secrets from you.  In fact, I don't think we have any secrets from anybody anymore," Matt said a little bitterly.
        Mike squeezed Matt's hand.  They looked into one another's eyes, seeing the relief there that the trial was over at last.  But they both felt wounded by it all.
        The limo driver reported that there didn't appear to be any reporters following them, so they stopped at a truck stop on the outskirts of Hartford, went in and took a booth.  Their food ordered, Matt looked over at Mary Bradford.
        "Mary, are you feeling all right?  You look a little tired," Matt said.
        "Well, I don't want to spoil your celebration..." Mary said.  "This is a time to feel happy."
        "Come on, what's going on?" Matt pressed her.
        "I have cancer," Mary said briskly.  "The breast cancer I had about 5 years ago has recurred, and by the time we caught it, it had spread.  The doctors give me about a year to live."
        The three men looked at her uncomprehendingly, in shock.
        "Oh, Mary.  I am so sorry," Justice Broman finally said quietly.
        Matt took her hand and held it as Mike looked at her sympathetically.
        "The doctors, or should I say 'we' doctors, have been wrong before, Mary," Mike said.  "Maybe we're wrong this time."
        "Anything's possible, Mike," Mary said, "but I don't think so."
        "I'd like to have a specialist I know in Chicago take a look at your records and x-rays, if you'd allow it," Mike said.
        "I'll be happy to have you do that, Mike," Mary said.  "But I'm not expecting any miracles at this point."
        "Now I'm reluctant to bring up what we wanted to talk to you about, Mom," Matt said.
        "No, Matt, let's talk while we have the chance," Mary said a little grimly.
        Matt studied the table for a moment, and then looked up.
        "Mom, Mike and I would like to adopt and raise Kyle with the twins.  He's a wonderful boy, and I think both he and our boys would benefit from growing up together.  If that possibility sits all right with you, I need your help to persuade Jamie, and Kyle's mother, that this is the way to go.
        "But even if that doesn't work out," Matt continued, "Mike and I would like to have you come and live with us in Chicago.  We have all the room in the world.  I'm not pressing you for an answer right now because I know you and the governor have a lot of talking to do.  But I want you to know this is an option for you unless you feel you need to stay in the Hartford area."
        Mary Bradford looked at Matt, astonished.
        "You'd take me into your home after all that's happened?  I'm flabbergasted.  You've really floored me, Matt."
        "The boys need to get to know their other grandma," Mike said.  "This is the perfect way to let that happen."
        "I hope you accept Matt's and Mike's invitation if it seems appropriate, Mary.  I'll be jealous about how much time you get to spend with the kids, but it's a wonderful opportunity for the twins," Justice Broman said, smiling.  My sons! he thought to himself.  What a beautiful gift they are to this world!
        "Do you have family in the Hartford area that you'd like to stay with or need to stay with, Mary?" Mike asked.
        "No," she said quietly.  "My sisters have all passed on, and Jamie is a career Navy man, you know, and won't have roots for a long time, if ever.  And to be candid, I just don't know at this point what Bill's and my future holds.  Other than Bill, there's no one."
        "Well, no pressure on this, Mary," Matt said.  "Why don't I call you in a week and see how things are looking?"
        "Let me call you, Matt," Mrs. Bradford responded.  "I should have a better idea whether Bill's going to put me out on the street by then.  And I'll try to get Jamie on the phone by then about Kyle.  Write down your number for me, will you."
        "Sure.  I'm gonna give you Dad's and Mom's number, 'cause we're gonna stay for a visit with them, and our cottage number at the lake in case we get a chance to go up there with the boys, and my cell phone number.  Promise me, though, you'll call if you move out of the Governor's Mansion anytime before the week's up.  We can be down here to get you in a matter of hours.  Do you promise?"
        "I promise," she sighed.  "I just don't want to be a burden to you and Mike."
        "This is no burden, Mary.  We'd like to see the best possible outcome for you, that's all," Mike said, "and if that means you'll be with us, we'll be very happy."
        The waitress delivered bowls of fresh fruit, English muffins, and pots of hot coffee at that point, and they all started eating.
        Breakfast finished, the limo driver dropped Mary Bradford back at the Governor's Mansion.  The Bromans were watching her walk toward the front door with misgivings when Justice Broman stepped out of the car on impulse and called to her.
        "Mary, hold up a minute," he said.
        She turned and looked at him.
        "I'm coming in with you," he said.  "Let's just see what the situation is with Bill before we leave."
        "Matthew, that's such an imposition..."
        "Not at all," he said firmly, and went up to her and offered his arm.  They went up the steps and entered together.
        The young state trooper, John Baker, was on duty with a pretty, young receptionist just inside the front door.
        "Hello, John, Ann," Mrs. Bradford said to them.  "This is Justice Matthew Broman.  Would you tell the governor that I'm home and would like to see him in the downstairs sitting room at his earliest convenience?"
        "Yes, m'am," the receptionist said, and punched the keyboard on her telephone.  She put down the telephone and said that the governor would be down directly.  The justice and Mrs. Bradford walked down the hall together.
        "If Bill seems rational and in control of himself, I'll leave you two alone," Justice Broman said.
        "All right."
        They entered the room just as Bill Bradford arrived through another door.
        "What the hell are you doing here, Matthew!?" the governor demanded.
        "I just accompanied Mary home, Bill."
        "This is no longer her home.  Mary, you stabbed your own husband in the back after 35 years of marriage.  I don't want you anywhere near me."
        "You lied under oath, Bill, and tried to frame Matt.  I don't even know who you are any more," Mrs. Bradford said.  "So this is how it ends?"
        "You made your choices.  I want you out of here.  You're a traitor."
        "All right, then.  Where's Kyle?"
        "Upstairs.  You can't have him."
        Mary Bradford looked at her husband coolly.
        "Either you turn Kyle over to me right now, or I'll be in court within the hour with an emergency petition for custody of Kyle  and a restraining order against your coming within 500 feet of either of us.  You'll be the one thrown out of here on his tail," Mary said forcefully.  "And that'll be great publicity for you when they bring you to trial for perjury and conspiracy, won't it?"
        "You bitch!"  Bradford moved toward her threateningly, only to have Justice Broman interpose himself between them.
        "Bill, listen to her.  She knows what she's talking about.  You're in trouble.  Don't ask for more," the justice said.
        "No wonder this country is going down the tubes!" Bradford spat out.  "Every value we ever stood for is being pissed away by people like you fag lovers!  It's disgusting!"
        "Mary, go pack a bag and get the boy," Justice Broman instructed.  "Bill, we'll be out of here in a few minutes and leave you to your well-earned misery."
        Bill Bradford snorted, but knew he was beaten, at least for the moment.  He sat down hard in a chair and glowered at Matthew Broman while his wife left the room to pack.  Neither spoke to the other.
        Mary returned in a few minutes with little Kyle on one arm, carrying a suitcase.
        Bill Bradford glared at her balefully as Matthew Broman said hello to Kyle and took the suitcase from Mrs. Bradford.
        "You'll hear from my attorney," Mary told her husband.  "And you need to get some professional help, Bill.  You've gone around the bend.  The man I married would never do the things you've done.  I'm sorry for you.  I don't wish you any ill, but our life together really is over.  Finished.  Good-bye, Bill."  Tears streamed down her face as she turned and left the room.
        Hunched in his chair, the governor just sat silently and watched the three of them leave.
        By this time, Matt and Mike were peering anxiously out the window of the limousine.  Their dad and Mary and Kyle emerged from the mansion and walked down the steps.  Matt and Mike got out of the car and walked toward the three of them.  Matt took Mary's bag from his dad and bent over to greet Kyle enthusiastically.  The boy appeared to recognize him, and his face brightened momentarily.
        "Trouble?" Mike murmured to his father.
        "Nothing I couldn't handle," Justice Broman said quietly.  "I'll tell you about it later."
        They got in the car, and pulled out of the circular drive into traffic.
        "Well, folks, what do you want to do about getting home?" the justice asked.
        "I vote for driving, Dad," Matt said.  "I don't want to go through all the hassle of trying to get reservations to fly, and we can still be home by supper time."
        "Mary?" Mr. Broman inquired.
        "Driving is fine with me, Matthew," Mary said.
        "Mike?"
        "Let's drive."
        "OK," the justice said.  "Driver, please call your dispatcher and see if you can drive us to Pennsylvania.  The rental car would be a little tight for all of us and our luggage.  We need to go back to the motel and pack, and turn our car in at the airport, and then we need to stop somewhere and get a booster seat for Kyle.  Don't we, young fella?"
        Kyle looked up at the older man impassively, followed by a faint smile.  Then he hugged his grandmother tightly, and buried his face in her bosom.
        "Somebody's a little shy," Mike observed.  "But that won't last long.  Just wait 'til he starts wrestling around with his cousins.  Nothing will faze him."
        An hour later, all their chores in Hartford completed, the limousine moved majestically and quickly down the highway toward Pennsylvania and the Broman estate.
        If I never see Hartford again, Matt thought to himself, it won't be too soon.
         *  *  *
        The huge, wrought iron lanterns at the front gate of the Broman's long driveway were gleaming into the dusk by the time they reached the house.
        The limousine pulled up to the main entrance of the house, and Jane Broman, Martha, Mrs. Brighton and Branford, and half the staff emerged and surrounded the car.  As the occupants of the car stepped out, they were surrounded, hugged and kissed.  Little Kyle was overwhelmed by all this and held on to his grandmother Bradford's legs, hiding his face.
        "Where are the boys," Mike asked.
        "Waiting for you both in the front hall in their pajamas," Jane Broman said.  "And I have to tell you, they're peeved at you guys!"
        Matt and Mike broke away from the crowd and entered the front door.  There stood Matthew and Michael in their little PJ's, robes and slippers.  They were in identical poses, arms akimbo, with angry little faces.
        "All right, Dad, Unk Mike, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!!" Michael shrilled.
        "Yeah, JUST WHERE?!!" Matthew echoed.
        The twins were promptly scooped up for hugs and kisses, and the pacification process began.  Matt and Mike told them the truth, that their dad had had to be in court just like he had told them on the telephone, and that Grandpa and Mike had been there to keep him company, and that they had brought their other grandmother and their cousin Kyle back with them from Hartford.  The boys couldn't take it all in right away, and they clung to Matt and Mike as if  there was no tomorrow.
        Jane Broman went out of her way to welcome Mary Bradford, having been alerted by cell phone to her situation by her husband a few hours back when the limousine had stopped along the interstate to refuel.
        Matthew and Michael took to Kyle right away, although Kyle was still a little shy.  The three of them were striking in their family resemblance, with their light blond hair, blue eyes, and similar facial features.  Watching them interact for the first time, Matt and Mike were more sure than ever they had made the right decision to try to raise them all together.
        Everyone trooped into the dining room for a light supper of homemade chicken soup, salad and barbecue sandwiches, topped off by peaches and vanilla ice cream.  In asking the blessing, Justice Broman gave thanks for Matt's deliverance and for Mary Bradford and Kyle as they joined the family.  Matt and Mike fed the twins, and Mary fed Kyle, and then the adults ate.
        They all sat together in the library for a while after supper and filled Jane Broman in on everything that had transpired.  Mike could see Matt, at long last, begin to relax a bit.
        After a few minutes, Jane went upstairs with Mary Bradford and got her settled in her room.  Mary was so tired that she went right to bed.   Matthew and Michael and Kyle, by now getting along famously, were allowed to stay up a little later than usual.  His uncles discovered that Kyle, stimulated by his cousins' company, could actually talk, and in complete sentences most of the time.
        Martha and Kyle had really hit it off.  When bedtime for the three little cousins couldn't be postponed any longer, Matt, Mike and Martha carried the kids upstairs, Kyle clinging to Martha's neck all the way.  When they reached the boys' room, Matt and Mike saw that Jane Broman had been busy before they arrived.  Somehow, with little notice, she'd scared up a third bed to accommodate Kyle.  Martha undressed the little guy and put him into a pair of his cousins' pajamas, and then Matt read a bedtime story to them all.  The boys' eyes were soon heavy, and when the story was finished, they said their prayers together. After dimming the light and explaining to Kyle that if he needed anything during the night, they were close by in the bedrooms on either side of his, Matt, Mike and Martha kissed the cousins goodnight.  Kyle seemed relaxed and content for being in brand new surroundings, and all three little boys were almost asleep by the time their caretakers reached the bedroom door.
        Martha and her two brothers went back down to the library and joined their parents to relax and talk some more.  Matt was tired from a long day, but exuberant that things had turned out the way things should have with his trial.
        Before he and Mike excused themselves to go to bed, Matt looked intently at his family.
        "I don't know how to tell you how good it is to be here with you," he said.  "Or how grateful I am to you for your support during this whole mess.  Dad and Mike, you kept me sane the last few days.  Mom, Martha, knowing you were here waiting for me was the greatest gift in the world.  I feel so lucky to have a family like you.  Thank you for everything."
        He hugged and kissed his mom and dad and sister, followed by Mike, and the two young men went upstairs.
        After checking on the kids, Matt took his usual pre-bedtime shower while Mike lay on the bed in his boxers watching television.  The door to the bathroom was open, and as Matt emerged from the shower and toweled off, Mike watched his partner's beautiful body as it flexed and moved.
        Matt was standing at the sink brushing his teeth when Mike did a double take at his partner.
        "Matt, commere for a second."
        "Whaddaya want?"
        "Just commere," Mike said.
        Matt washed off his toothbrush and still in the buff, walked over to his brother.
        "Turn around," Mike instructed.
        "Now what?"
        "Just turn around!"
        Matt reluctantly turned around so his back was facing his brother.
        "Aha!  Just as I thought!" Mike said.  "You have a pimple on your ass!  Do you realize that this is the first time in all the years we've known each other that you've ever had a blemish on your skin?  I'm a little relieved, to tell you the truth.  I was starting to think you were some kind of robot with artificial skin."
        Matt tried to look behind him at his butt, but couldn't see the alleged blemish.
        "You're lying," he said.
        "No, I swear.  Oh, my gosh, maybe I am wrong.  This pimple might really be a little alien being that's been sent to try to colonize the planet, starting with your butt!  Just a second, I think it's trying to communicate with me, but I can't quite make out what it's saying."
        "Well, I can hear it very clearly.  It's saying, 'Bite me, Mike!!'"
        "'Bite me?'  I could do that," Mike said. "I wouldn't mind doing that at all.  But it could start a serious inter-galactic war, y'know."
        "You're a serious inter-galactic dufus, do you know that!" Matt said, lying down on top of Mike and kissing his lips.  "Now that you've provoked me, and you're helpless right now, I think it's time for a story.  A good story.  I don't think I've been keeping you properly entertained lately."
        "No-o-o!  I sorry I said anything, even if it is the truth!  Forget I said anything."
        "I can't forget it.  Your cruelty about my butt is engraved in my memory forever.  So, speaking of body parts...
        "Two gay guys are in a San Francisco bathroom using the urinals. One of the guys checks out the other guy's penis and notices there's a Nicoderm patch on it. He turns to the other guy and says,
        "'I believe you're supposed to put that patch on your arm or shoulder, not your penis.'
        "The other guy looks at him in surprise.
        "'I'll have you know it's working just fine, thank you very  much! I'm down to 2 butts a day.'"    
        Mike had to laugh, partly because of the story, but mostly out of relief that the long ordeal in Hartford was over and Matt was with him, and even better, lying right on top of him.  He had his beautiful lover back permanently, and life was complete again.  And it was very, very good.
        It got better as Matt stripped Mike of his boxers, and they made sweet, messy love to one another until they were each spent and exhausted.
        
Part 7

        It was one of those crystalline end-of-Summer, brink-of-Fall days, hot, but with no humidity.  Martha lay comfortably on a chaise longue on the front lawn of the Broman cottage at Lake Marston, enjoying the bright sunshine.
        She stared through dark glasses at the lake, where the Chris Craft made wide and gentle circles on the water with the sun glinting off her brightwork.  Despite Martha's misgivings, Matt and Mike had taken the three little boys out for their first water skiing adventure.  The red life preservers they all wore lent bright spots of color to the scene as Mike towed Matt on skis at what for them was a moderate pace. For his first ride on skis, Kyle stood just in front of Matt's feet, his body encircled by one of his uncle's tan, muscular arms.  Matthew and Michael, waiting their turn, sat in the back of the boat watching their dad and cousin as they crossed and re-crossed the wake of the boat.  Martha could hear the kids' happy, piping voices as they skimmed across the water without a care in the world.
        Martha was glad she had finally given in to her brothers' entreaties to accompany them for a long weekend at the lake.  Their mom and dad had stayed home with Mary Bradford.  Matt and Mike had not pressed their parents to come, knowing that they needed some time together at home, and Mary had needed time for rest and reflection more than travel right now.  But Matt and Mike had wanted to relax with their sister and give the boys a treat, so going to the lake seemed a good choice.
        Martha was almost finished with her Summer's work at a veterinarian hospital near home, and it had been a good experience for her.  It had solidified her desire to be a vet, and she was looking forward to getting back to the university to continue pursuing the academic side of her dream of working with animals.  She wondered sometimes whether her dedication to animals was somehow an attempt to fill the gap in her life that came from not having a steady boyfriend.  She was dating all the time, but nobody she'd met thus far "floats my boat," as she'd told Mike.
        She'd had a long talk with Mike a few days ago and shared a lot of things with him that she'd never even told her mother.  She told him that she was beginning to wonder if there weren't something wrong with her because so many of her girlfriends from high school, most of them now in college, were already hooked up and well on their way to the altar.  Mike had reassured her on that score in no uncertain terms.
        "You're a beautiful, strong, intelligent, competent young woman with good values, Mart," he'd told her.  "You hafta remember that most guys your age are a long way from having their shit together.  You're very feminine, don't get me wrong, but you don't suffer fools gladly, either.  I think you scare the crap out of these dudes 'cause you're so sure of yourself and where you're going.  Take it from one who's been there, guys mostly have one thing on their minds, you know that.  One of these days you're gonna cross paths with a young guy who's as together as you are, and he's not gonna be intimidated and he's not gonna run away.  Please, please don't get down on yourself, hon, and don't hide who and what you are so some dufus can feel good about himself by comparison.  If you settle for less than you should, I'll be forced to kill you both," Mike had said as he enveloped her in a hug and kissed her.  "In good time, you and Mr. Right will meet and the sparks will fly just like they did for me and Matt."
        "Sometimes Mr. Right Now looks pretty good," she'd told him, and he laughed and hugged her again.  "But you know what my real problem is?" she'd asked.
        "What?"
        "I compare all my dates to you and Matt and Jeff.  No wonder I can't find anyone who measures up."
        Mike had laughed, and hugged and kissed her again.
        She reflected on her three brothers, whom she loved without stint.  Each of them had qualities she deeply admired, and she knew her love and regard for them was returned fully.
        Jeff was still a kid in many ways, a big, handsome boy, but still a boy.  But she had always envied and tried to emulate the joy and appetite with which Jeff embraced life.  His absolute honesty about everything in his life smoothed the wrinkles of his existence in a way that less candid, more careful, more complex men and women could never experience.  His temperament was so sunny that he was always fun to be around.  She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that Jeff had not treated her with the greatest of respect, something which was a little out of the ordinary for brothers and sisters, at least in their younger years.  Martha had no doubt that he had the qualities that would make him a success in life and as a human being, despite his little episode with heroin.
        Matt's loving heart and commitment to do good for everyone he met made him a very special person, she thought, and that far outweighed his sometimes quick anger at those who didn't follow high standards in their own lives.  Deep and tender feelings held sway under that hunky, jock exterior of his.  He was a person of strong religious faith, but he never bludgeoned anyone with it.  He was an extremely determined individual.  Once he had made up his mind to accomplish something, big or small, get out of the way or get trampled!  He never, ever gave up, no matter what the odds.  Martha was sure that, along with the support of the family, his tenacity is what had sustained him during his recent trial by fire in Hartford.  And his elfin sense of humor was captivating, even for Mike, although the latter would never admit it.  No one, certainly including herself, could want for a better, more fiercely loyal, more loving friend and brother than Matt.
        When it came to sharing her innermost feelings, however, Mike had become Martha's unfailing confidant and guide.  Despite her closeness to her mother and father, she had shared some things with Mike as a peer that she would discuss with no one else.  Although they'd never spent protracted periods of time together, he seemed to know her as well as she knew herself.  That Mike did know her that well would have made some people nervous, but Martha was so convinced of Mike's affection for her that she saw him as her rock and guide in a mad and disordered world.  His head and his heart always seemed to be in perfect balance, no matter what the problem.  He never pulled his punches, whatever the subject under discussion might be, but he always left her feeling better about herself and with a better grasp of the problem they were talking about than when their conversations started.
        Activity on the lake caught Martha's attention again.  Mike had brought the boat to a stop and Matt, arm still around Kyle, had skied up beside the boat and sunk down into the water, skis, boy and all.  Mike lifted Kyle into the boat, and then jumped into the water himself.  He took the skis from Matt, put them on, and waited until Matt climbed into the boat and handed him a twin boy--she couldn't tell which one at that distance.  Mike grasped the tow bar and held the child's head out of the water while Matt put the Chris Craft in gear and slowly moved away until the tow line was taut.  When Mike nodded his head, Matt applied power, and up Mike and his little boy cargo came out of the water.  The little guy riding the skis in front of his uncle was exhilarated, and threw his arms in the air.  Martha smiled to herself.  Were there two better parents than Matt and Mike?  She had never seen them if there were.  Like her own mom and dad, they didn't just talk about loving their kids, they demonstrated it and lived it every waking moment.  Matt and Mike were clearly and enthusiastically invested in the twins, and were started down the same path with Kyle.
        After the second twin in turn had received his ride on the skis, Mike went solo and Matt tried every trick in the book to make him drink the lake, as usual to no avail.  Motor thundering, the Chris Craft repeatedly crossed it own wake and turned on its tail, but Mike nonchalantly cut through the water on one ski with a big smile on his face.  Finally Matt gave up trying to dump him, and headed for shore.  Mike cut around the boat as it slowed to dock, and skied right up on to the beach.  Martha rose from the chaise and walked down the dock to help Matt secure the boat in the boathouse and retrieve the kids.  Mike followed her, and they all went inside to dry and dress the kids and then themselves.
        They cooked hamburgers outside on the grill that night, and then spent a pleasant evening playing with the boys, talking and listening to music.  When it was the kids' bedtime, they put them in their pajamas, read a story with them, heard their prayers, and put the three of them down together in one big bed.
        Kyle was one happy boy to be with his cousins.  The change in his demeanor since leaving Hartford had been remarkable, going from a withdrawn silence to chattering like a magpie every waking minute.
        Silence reigned at last in the cottage, and three sets of sleepy little eyes closed for the night.  Mike covered the kids with a sheet and a light blanket, and tiptoed out to the large screened-in front porch overlooking the lake.
        Martha and her brothers watched the TV news, hearing that the wheels of justice were moving fast back in Connecticut.  Governor Bradford, Colonel Metzlaar and Lieutenant Wolf had all been indicted by the grand jury in short order for perjury, conspiracy and obstruction of justice in their attempt to frame Matt.  Matt didn't experience as much of a rush about the upcoming retribution as he thought he would.
        Tired out from all the sunshine and fresh air, Martha went to bed after the news was over, and Matt and Mike followed her example before long.
        Skin glowing from a day in the sun and on the water, the two partners lay naked on their bed facing each other in the dim light of the bedside lamp.  There was a deep sense of contentment between them at being together.  Matt reached over and brushed Mike's hair back from his forehead.  Mike took his partner's hand, kissing his palm gently.  He put his nose to the skin of Matt's chest and inhaled the smell of his body.
        "Don't get a big head," Mike said, "but you're so beautiful I can hardly stand it!  I love you so much!"
        "Have you looked in the mirror lately, bro?  To me, you're perfect, Mike, and I love every inch of you.  It feels so good to be right here, right now with you."  Matt caressed Mike's chest and leaned over and licked a nipple.  "The psychologists say there are a lot of people that an individual can partner with successfully in life and be happy," Matt continued.  "But I seriously doubt it.  I don't think there's another human being on this earth like you.  I'm a lucky man, dude!  Lucky, lucky, lucky!  You mean everything to me."
        Mike silently pulled his partner in, caressed his back, smelled his skin again, and gave him a long, deep kiss that curled Matt's toes.  Then he broke it off.
        "I need to talk to ya for a minute," Mike said.
        " 'K, 'bout what?"
        "I've been thinking about our situation with the boys.  When we get back to Chicago, I think we need to find a housekeeper or a couple to live in the separate apartment at the condo.  And if it's a single housekeeper, it should prolly be a woman."
        "Why a woman?" Matt asked.
        "I think it would be good for the kids."
        "Why, do you think we'll make 'em queer or something without a woman around?"
        "Not really.  I just think they'll develop better with some feminine influence in their lives on a regular basis, especially at their age.  Their time with Mom and Martha has been great, but they need ongoing contact with a good, loving female.  Hey, bro, if the boys do turn out to be gay, so be it, but I don't think that's what either of us really hopes for them.  They just need to be happy with themselves, whatever orientation that may entail."
        "You're prolly right about the housekeeper," Matt admitted.  "And you know what else?  We need to be thinking about school for them..  Are we gonna go the public school route or send them to private school?  That's a pretty heavy decision in itself."
        "I know."
        "So, yeah, I agree, we have some thinking to do.  These things can make a big difference in their lives," Matt said.  "But they're good kids, great kids, and I think we're gonna be very proud of 'em when they grow up."
        "Yep.  Me, too."
        "That reminds me of a story.  About a kid who could never please his dad," Matt said.
        "A story?  I don't think so," Mike protested.
        "But yes, my Mike."  Matt swung a leg across Mike's midsection to keep him in bed.
        "A man and his son went into an ice cream parlor and  ordered a double-dip butter pecan cone.
        "'And what do you want, Fathead?' the father asked,  slapping his kid on the back of the head.
        "'That's a terrible way to treat your son,' the clerk said  indignantly.  'Why did you do that?'
        "Listen, m'am, every man wants three things in his life,'  the man said.
        "'First he wants a nice truck.  Look out at the curb.  That's the nicest truck in town.
        "'Second, he wants a nice house.  I have the finest house  in the county just down the road.
        "'And third, he wants a tight woman.  And I had that until Fathead here came along!!'"    
        "That was terrible!" Mike said.  "If you weren't my partner and I didn't love you, I'd, I'd..."
        Matt climbed on top of Mike and stifled any further reaction to the joke with a soul kiss that curled both sets of toes this time.
        They came up for air eventually, breath a little ragged.
        "One more thing before you make me lose my mind completely--I've been saving something really, really good to tell you until our worries in Hartford were behind us, and we were feeling relaxed," Mike said.
        "What! You've been holding out on me?"
        "Yep.  Tell me you forgive me, and I'll spill."
        "That's bogus!  But OK, I forgive you."
        "Lemme see your fingers--no crossed fingers!"
        Matt held out his hands, fingers straight.
        "Uncross your legs," Mike instructed.  "I know you too well, slick!"
        "I'm hurt you suspect me, but OK."  Matt straightened out his legs, and quickly crossed his eyes.
        "Look me in the eye!" Mike demanded.  Beaten for the moment, Matt looked at him, eyes normal.
        "Now, tell me you forgive me," Mike said again.
        "I may forgive you."
        "Nope, not good enough!  I guess I'll sleep now.  You can ask me the news in the morning, and I may tell you.  Or not, I don't know," Mike said, putting his head down on the pillow.
        "Oh, all right!  You're no fun!  I forgive you, for crying out loud!"
        "Are you sincere?"
        "I'm gonna hurt cha!" Matt said threateningly.