Working It Out
Book 3
© 2002-2004 by Don Hanratty   
dhanr1@msn.com

        
Part 1

        Matt and Mike lay quietly in one another's arms after making love repeatedly,.  They were now happily at rest in the master bedroom of their condo at Snowmass, and if human contentment produces an aura, they and their bed were aglow.
        Love, exhilaration, joy, gratitude, peace, along with total physical fulfillment-- these were the sensations that flooded Matt's being as he awakened during the early morning hours in Colorado on that second day after their wedding.  He stretched languorously, and his eyes lingered on Mike's face, covered with a stubble Matt always found very sexy.   He loved the man lying asleep beside him so completely that he knew he would never, by choice, want to leave his side again.  Smiling to himself, he admired the wedding band not long ago placed on his left hand by his partner, and rotated it around and around on his ring finger.
        Declaring themselves before God and man in front of St. Stephen's altar had been so right for them.  It had been an unforgettable milestone that fused their public words and private feelings for each other into a firm intention to live in joyful commitment together for the remainder of their time on the earth.  Making those vows while surrounded by their children and their extended family--the core of their world--and then being fêted by their friends at a huge reception back at the condo was a very special bonus.
        They had been astonished and gratified at the presence and support of their friends and classmates in far larger numbers than they had ever expected.  As controversial as gay marriage might be in some quarters, it was clear from the sheer numbers of those gathered for the ceremony and the party afterward that these two men were loved and admired by many.  A magnificent buffet had been laid out in the dining room, and in the mammoth living room a dance floor had been installed over the carpeting.  A live and versatile band played everything from the latest hits to golden oldies to entice people to dance. While the evening was yet young, everyone gathered in the living room to be served a glass of champaign and listen to Jeff deliver a hilarious toast to the newlyweds that cleverly mocked their swimming-wrestling prowess and athletic rivalry.  Only Jeff the big jock could have pulled it off so well.  Stan laughed until he almost peed his pants.
        In the wee hours of the morning after the reception was finally over, they gently undressed one another and climbed into bed.
        "I know who I am because of you," Mike had whispered softly to Matt.  And it was true.  For both of them at that moment, completion of self in their love for the other trivialized everything else in their lives.
        Matt had come to realize over time that although his and Mike's relationship was deeply passionate and robustly physical, it also encompassed a kind and gentle dimension.  It was remarkably free of any hidden anger.  For whatever reason, Matt had concluded, they had no unresolved issues from their childhood or their youth that fanned resentments to sabotage the total intimacy they both reveled in.  They certainly fought and disagreed on occasion, and would again, but their fights were never stoked by "old news" in their respective psychological makeup.  And at this point in their lives, they trusted one another completely.  They were true soul mates.
        Once they had arrived on Sunday in Aspen by way of a connecting flight from Denver, they had shopped the town for skis, ski poles, boots, gloves and ski clothes because all their ski paraphernalia was stored away neatly back in Pennsylvania.  Buying all new stuff had been pricey, but worth it from several standpoints, including the improved safety of the newest ski bindings on the market.
        By that afternoon they had made their way the few miles up the road from Aspen proper to Snowmass, put their luggage in the condo, and were out on the slopes.  They were both excited to be there together.  The chairlift rides up the mountain had been a good opportunity to make out, which they did without being too obvious about it by pretending to huddle together against the wind.  Matt's lips tasted like Chapstick, Mike noted, but that didn't stop him from thoroughly enjoying the action.  He would take Matt's lips any way he could get them.
        At the top, Mike had carefully studied the degree of difficulty of the various runs from a map before they started down the mountain.  He chose only the easier runs so as to minimize the likelihood that Matt would get into difficult terrain and fall and hurt his chest.  Both expert skiers, they were eager to see if they still had their skills.  Matt had wanted nothing more than to just let himself go and throw himself into the black diamond expert runs, but he knew that Mike would have had a conniption if he had taken the chance.  And Mike was right, of course--Matt had to admit he still tired easily.  So they had rested from time to time between some challenging skiing on the more moderate hills.  It had been a fine day to be on the slopes, sun and clouds fighting each other for dominance, in the upper twenties at the bottom of the mountain, in the single digits at the top, with fresh powder floating down at intervals as they carved through newly fallen snow and the ethereal silence down the mountainside.
        After they had made several top to bottom runs, Matt finally admitted he was getting tired and had had enough.  He urged Mike to get on the lift and make an additional run alone so he could ski all out without having to worry about him.  But Mike wouldn't go without him, so they took their skis off and made their way back to the condo.  Once inside, they dropped their jackets on a handy bench by the door, removed their ski boots, and stood in the hall enjoying a deep kiss that made both of them half hard.  When they eventually unclenched and went into the living room, Mike went over to the fireplace.
        "Your ass looks hot in those ski pants," Matt observed as Mike walked away and bent over to add logs to the hot coals.
        "Let me clarify that for you," Mike retorted.  "My butt looks hot, period.  It has nothing to do with the ski pants.  And it just keeps getting hotter looking.  Being around you makes it hotter, I think.  Heh."
        "You think?"
        "Yeah.  My butt knows it has to keep improving.  It knows that at the first sign of any flab, this relationship will be in big trouble."
        "It is your most important part.  Well, maybe not the most important part..."
        Mike came back and put his arms around his partner.  "You're such a perv!"
        "I know.  Doncha love it?  It's one of my finer qualities.  Maybe my best."
        "Hang on to your good qualities.  They're hard to come by for lawyers.  Which reminds me of a story..."
        "I've created a monster," Matt protested.  "Since your joke gene got activated, it's gotten way outta control."
        "Shutup," Mike instructed, smiling and tightening his embrace so Matt couldn't get away.
        "Two alligators are sitting on the edge of a swamp. The small one turns to the big one and says, 'I don't understand how you can be so much bigger than I am. We're the same age, we were the same size as kids... I just don't get it.'
        "'Well,' says the big alligator, 'what have you been eating?'
        "'Lawyers, same as you,' replies the small alligator.
        "'Hmm. Well, where do you catch 'em?'
        "'Down at that law firm on the edge of the swamp.'
        "'Same here. Hmm. How do you catch 'em?'
        "'Well, I crawl under a BMW and wait for someone to unlock the door. Then I jump out, bite 'em, shake the shit out of  'em, and eat 'em!'
        "'Ah!' says the big alligator, 'I think I see your problem. See, by the time you get done shakin' the shit out of a lawyer, there's nothin' left but lips and a briefcase...'"
        Matt laughed his big, deep laugh, and pulled Mike to him more tightly.
        "Have mercy, I have created a monster," he said.  "So, monster-boy, how 'bout a shower?  These almost-lawyer lips wanna kiss your hot little ass.  I can check for flab while I'm down there.  You know, the bite test."
        Mike laughed and kissed his partner, giving Matt some tongue.  "I have a better idea," he said when they came up for air.  "The building people serviced and filled the hot tub.  Let's soak awhile.  Then we gotta call home and talk to the kids, or they'll be mad.  And I miss 'em like crazy."
        "Me, too.  Once again you're out and out brilliant, bro!  That's the bottom line!" Matt said.  They went off toward the hot tub, which was out on a balcony designed so that it was protected from the view of neighbors.  Matt started feeling up Mike's ass as they walked.  "Just a preliminary check-up on the flab question," he said as Mike swivelled his hips and tried to swat Matt's hand away, to no avail.
        "Help me, I married Satan," Mike said laughingly as he squirmed around trying to get away.
        They started losing articles of clothing along the way to their destination, and by the time they reached the hot tub, they were both beautifully, gloriously naked and erect.  Removing the vinyl cover and activating the tub's circulation, they sank gratefully up to their necks into the steaming water as their hands began roaming and touching all the right places on one another's body.  There were no wrong places.
        *  *  *
        Stan Rosinski sat on the big leather couch in the deep silence of Matt's and Mike's den back in Chicago on the Monday night after Thanksgiving.  He hummed to himself as he worked through the latest exercise in preparation for his accounting class the next day.  Linda was back in her little apartment watching television, Mary was in her bedroom, and the little boys were tucked into their beds.
        "Piece 'o cake.  You're brilliant!" Stan told himself aloud with satisfaction as he finished up his assignment, the accounts in balance.  He closed his books, threw down his pencil, and pushed back into the couch to relax, swinging his feet up onto the coffee table as everybody who sat on the couch usually did.
        The newlyweds had called the previous night from Colorado to talk to the boys and him and Linda and Mary Bradford.  Everything was fine in Chicago, although the little guys clearly missed their two dads already and were a little cranky about their absence.  They had seemed somewhat mollified after they heard Matt's and Mike's voices on the phone, though.
        The previous Saturday's wedding had affected Stan more than he had expected.  He didn't consider himself a romantic, but he had been moved by the ceremony, and particularly by the vows Matt and Mike had made to one another.  He had found himself praying hard during the nuptial mass for the two men who had become closer friends to him than he had ever thought he would have in his life.  More like his brothers, really.  The love and care and respect that the two Bromans had shown him and Linda since they had all lived together was fully reciprocated, and the impact of the service had been such that he and Linda had been motivated to set the date for their own marriage--the third Saturday of the coming January--provided that the pastor in Linda's home parish could accommodate them.
        Stan caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked toward the hall door.  Kyle, dressed in his little Spider Man PJ's, poked his head into the doorway to see who was in the den.  He was clutching his "blankie," a tattered remnant of his first baby blanket and constant bedtime companion that by now was much the worse for wear.
        "Kyle," Stan said softly, "commere, little dude."
        The little boy came into the den, went to the couch, and climbed into Stan's lap without hesitation.  Stan kissed the top of Kyle's head as he snuggled up to the man.
        "I thought you were in bed," Stan said, craning his neck to look into the boy's face.
        "I was.  But I woke up," Kyle said, rubbing sleepy eyes.
        "Uh huh," Stan said.  "Are Matthew and Michael sleeping?"
        "Yes."
        "Do you want me to read you another story?"
        Kyle turned his head and looked up at Stan trustingly.  "Yes, please."
        "Gimme a smooch, then," Stan demanded.
        The little guy puckered up and kissed Stan primly on the lips.
        "You're such a good boy, Kyle," Stan said.  "Good looking, too!"
        Kyle pushed his face into Stan's chest, giggling sleepily.
        "All right, what would you like to hear?"  Stan leaned forward and began rummaging through the kids books and comic books which were in disarray on the coffee table.
        "Spider Man!" Kyle said with finality.
        Stan picked up a Spider Man comic book.  "He's your favorite now, huh?"
        "Yeah."
        "OK."  And Stan began reading the comic book, pointing out the pictures as he went along.  Ten minutes later, Kyle was fast asleep, breathing softly.
        Stan dropped the comic book back on the coffee table, and sat there unmoving, cradling Kyle in his arms.  Contemplating the beautiful child sleeping in his lap, he wondered how different his own life would have been if he had ever received the love and care as a child which was lavished on the three little Broman boys day in and day out.
        Matt and Mike, along with Linda and Mary, had really taught Stan how to give and receive love, he knew that without question.  Love and human kindness had never been in his repertory until it had been modeled for him by these very special people who had come his way.  Better late than never, he thought to himself.  The anger and pain that had once been the center of his being were rarely a presence in him now, and seldom remembered.
        He put his nose in Kyle's blond hair, savoring the clean smell, and just sat there holding him against his chest, thinking about having his own children some day with Linda.  Thanks to their experience in helping parent Matthew, Michael and Kyle, he and Linda wouldn't take on raising their own family without knowing the challenges.  Or the rewards.  He was grateful for that.
        He was still sitting there a half hour later when Linda came into the room, smiling when she saw Stan holding Kyle in his arms.
        "Somebody couldn't sleep, I see," she said quietly, easing down beside her fiancé on the couch.
        "Yeah.  You know, Lin, I'd kill anybody who ever hurt one of these little guys.  Without a second thought."
        "You'd have to stand in line.  But I don't think we're gonna have to worry about that," Linda said.
        "I hope not.  I do sometimes, though."
        "Are you ready to put him back to bed?"
        "Yeah," Stan said a little reluctantly, moving forward on the couch until he could get his legs under himself and stand up with the boy in his arms.  "Bring his 'blankie,' hon."
        "I have it."
        The young couple walked down the hall to the boys' room together, and gently put Kyle into his bed with 'blankie' and covered him.  Stan kissed the little guy and then the other two boys, and he and Linda stepped back into the hall.  He put his arms around her and held her tightly.
        "I love you, Lin," Stan said.  "I couldn't make it without you.  I can't wait 'til we're married."
        "Me, too, sweetheart.  I don't know how I got lucky enough to find you."
        They kissed deeply, still entwined, stopping only when Breakers came up and nudged Stan's leg, reminding him that he still needed his evening walk.  Stan laughed, and the young couple and the dog walked together to the foyer, where Linda continued on to her apartment after a last kiss for the night from her beau.  Stan leashed an enthusiastic Breakers and summoned the elevator.  He walked the dog on the front lawn for a few minutes, and then they went back upstairs.  He hung up the leash and turned out the lights in the condo one by one as he headed back toward Matt's and Mike's bedroom, where he was sleeping to be near the little boys until the newlyweds returned from Colorado.
        Life is really, really good, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth, stripped off his clothes, and hit the bed.  Breakers jumped up on the bed and settled in at his feet.  All was quiet.
        *  *  *
        Mary Bradford sat in her bedroom that same evening quietly contemplating her life since Matt's trial and exoneration in Hartford.  The return of her breast cancer just before the trial and the experimental treatment she had subsequently received for it in Chicago had depleted her strength, although her body's reaction to the chemo was nowhere near as severe as the first round of treatments five years before had been.  Tired as she sometimes was, she was constantly energized just by living in Matt's and Mike's unconventional household, where almost everything was vibrant and positive even in the face of difficult challenges.  She truly loved everybody she lived with.  Matt and Mike both treated her like their mother, and Stan and Linda doted on her.  The fact that her three grandchildren were thriving gave her much joy, and she was thrilled to have been alive to witness their early growing-up years.  Unfortunately, what with people moving around so much anymore, not many grandparents had that privilege these days in the United States.
        Mary felt that she had tied up the loose ends in her life since she had moved to Chicago, made amends where she could and should, and that she was ready to let go and move to her next state of being when and if she was required to do so.  She was not afraid to die.
        Her divorce from Bill Bradford had become final, and she was quite comfortable, financially speaking, for whatever time she had left.  She had decided that although she would leave her son Jamie a substantial amount of money, the bulk of her estate would go into a trust for her grandchildren to be administered by Matt and Mike.  There would also be a generous bequest to Stan Rosinski and Linda Kosco that they never would have expected.
        The next day, Dr. Ann Roncalli's office called for Mary to come in for a review of her condition at the conclusion of her treatments.  Matt and Mike were still on their honeymoon, but Linda had some time and volunteered to drive her to her appointment.  The test results from Mary's chemo were obviously in, and Linda didn't want her to hear the news alone.  Linda parked in the garage at the medical center and took Mary's hand and held it before they got out of the car.
        "You know there's no way this won't be good news, don't you?" Linda asked.
        "Linda, I hope so.  But I'm ready to hear the verdict, whatever it is."
        "Well, get ready for a pleasant surprise," Linda said, smiling.  "I have a good feeling about this."
        "Thank you, dear.  Thank you for everything you've done for me.  You and Stan have been wonderful to me, and to the kids, and I appreciate it."
        Linda gave Mary's hand a squeeze, kissed her cheek, and they went upstairs to Dr. Roncalli's office.
        They checked in, and before long the receptionist told them to go back to the doctor's office.  The matronly physician rose from her desk and came to greet them warmly when they came in.  Linda tried to read the doctor's face to see what the news might be, but couldn't.
        "How are you feeling, Mary?" Ann Roncalli asked.
        "Very well, thank you," Mary said.  "I think I've mentioned to you before that this chemo was nowhere near as hard on me as the first round was five years ago.  I'm really pleased, and I'm feeling fine.  My energy is coming back."
        "Good.  I asked you to come in today to share the results of our drug trial with you.  This was a blind trial, and I've now learned that you were in the experimental group of participants, not the control group.  I'm happy to be able to tell you that there isn't a trace of cancer in your body now, at least not that we can detect.  The combination of drugs we gave you performed far better than we had ever thought possible.  There will be the usual five year follow-up period before we can say conclusively, but you appear to be in excellent health and cancer-free.  We're going to be bragging on you for years, Mary.  Every evidence suggests that you're one of our success stories, and I wanted to share that with you as soon as possible."
        "Oh, my," Mary said softly, turning to Linda.  "You were right."  A single tear ran slowly down her cheek.
        Linda leaned over and kissed her, weeping herself.
        "Thank you, Doctor," Mary said.  "Your work saved my life, and I suspect it will save the lives of many people.  I've very grateful that you accepted me into your program."
        "Well, Mike Broman is a very persuasive young man!" Dr. Roncalli said with a smile.  "He beat the drums pretty hard on your behalf."
        "That's just one more thing I owe him and his partner," Mary said.  "Doctor, I'll never forget what you've done for me.  Bless you."
        "This is the way things are supposed to turn out," Dr. Roncalli said, standing and coming around her desk.  "Thank you for your patience and cooperation throughout the trial.  You've been a wonderful patient.  I'll see you in six months for your first post-trial checkup."
        The two older women hugged one another, and Linda and Mary left the office with big smiles on their faces.
        "What would you like to do to celebrate?" Linda asked on the way back to the car.
        "First, an ice cream sundae for both of us, hot fudge, my treat.  Second, I want to call Matt and Mike and their mom and dad, and share the news.  Then I want to fix a nice dinner for you and Stan and the boys tonight.  It's about time I started pulling my own weight, don't you think?"
        "You amaze me.  You've always pulled your own weight.  I'm not sure you know how much we all care about you, Mary.  Anything we've done for you has been out of love.  There aren't any debts here."
        "You're a wonderful person, Linda.  Stan is one lucky man.  I'll tell you something.  I think the prayers and love in our family did as much as any chemicals could do to give me another chance to live.  I mean it.  And you and Stan are a big part of the equation, don't ever doubt that!" Mary said.
        They did stop on the way home and had those diet-busting ice cream sundaes.
        When Mary called Matt and Mike that night with the good news about her condition, they were ecstatic.  And when they hung up the phone, that cool-minded, objective scientist, Mike, sat down and cried.  Matt held him and kissed his tears away, himself feeling that the huge weight of concern for Mary's health he had been carrying around for so long had been lifted from his shoulders.  He silently offered a prayer of thanksgiving.  When Mary called the elder Bromans, they were relieved, excited and happy about the news.
        Matt and Mike flew back into Chicago on Thursday morning in time to drop off their luggage quickly at home and then visit their respective campuses to pick up their mail and assignments so they could start playing catch-up on their school work.  When the little boys arrived home from St. Stephen's school that early afternoon and found out from Linda that their dads were back in town, they dragged folding chairs out of the den into the foyer to wait for them to get back from school.  Matt and Mike drove into the condo garage at practically the same time and met at the elevator.  When they stepped through the elevator doors on the penthouse floor, there the three little boys were, sitting on their chairs.  There was pandemonium as the boys and Breakers gave the newlyweds a boisterous welcome home.
        The first thing Matt and Mike did after being greeted by the kids was to walk down the hall to Mary's room, accompanied by the boys, who were sticking to them like glue.  She was sitting at her writing desk, and stood up with a smile when the contingent came in.  Without a word, Matt and Mike simultaneously gave her a long hug.
        "I can't even put into words how grateful I am you're all right," Matt finally said quietly.
        "I'm so happy," Mike added, "and you're amazing.  We hafta do something to celebrate, Mary.  What would you like to do?"
        "I'd like to do something nice for the whole family, so I'm starting small by fixing dinner tonight."  She paused and looked at them.  "You're healers, every one of you, I hope you know that.  I'm living proof of it."  Taking each of their faces in her hands, she kissed all five of them, big and little, as they stood around her.
        The kids physically wouldn't let go of Matt and Mike for the first hour they were home, afraid somehow that if they let them out of their sight, their dads would disappear again.
        By suppertime, though, things were back to normal.  Mary had fixed a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs with plates of hot French bread and bowls each of melted butter and olive oil for dipping, along with a big bowl of salad.  Mike and Matt put the boys on their booster seats with their "messy food" bibs on, and everyone held hands around the table.  Mike offered the thanksgiving.

            "Father, behold this your family, gathered in Your Name to offer thanks for what we are about to receive, and most especially what we have already received.  You have visited us with the gift of healing for Your servant Mary, and our gratitude for Your love and power truly knows no bounds.  We thank You for preserving her life to this family; of which she is the heart.  Lord, You heal us, You love us, You preserve us, You bless us.  We thank you for Your compassion and for the food You have provided in this meal, through our Savior Jesus Christ."
            "Amen."

        The adults enjoyed several glasses of red table wine with the spaghetti, and it was a gala meal, indeed.  The three boys looked as if they had bathed in the spaghetti sauce by the time they were finished, but the bibs had done their job.
        That night after Matt and Mike had given the kids their bath, read to them, heard their prayers and tucked them in bed, they went back to the den and sat with Linda and Stan, who demanded all the details about the skiing in Aspen.  They filled them in.
        "Next time, you two are coming with us," Mike promised the young couple.
        "I'm an inner-city boy, dude.  I've never skied in my life," Stan said.
        "Me, either," Linda admitted.
        "That's what they have ski instructors for," Matt said.  "You'll love it!"
        They listened to music and talked some more until bedtime.
        "Uh, I need to tell you guys something," Stan said as they all stood to go to bed.  He hesitated.
        "Yeah?" Matt said.  "Lay it on us."
        "Well, I just wanted to tell you both what a beautiful wedding you had.  I felt really good about it..."  He hesitated again, and cleared his throat.  "Linda and I just love you both so much, and you deserve all the good things that come your way.  That's all."
        "Well, Stan the man, you guys are our brother and sister, and the feeling's mutual!" Matt said.  "I know you don't like this, but..."
        Matt and Mike grabbed him, and each planted a kiss on his cheek, followed by kisses for Linda.
        Stan reddened, but he said, "No, you're wrong about that.  I can take being kissed by my brothers any old time, no sweat."  He smiled.
        "By the way, guys," Linda said, "we set the date for our own wedding.  We're gonna try for the first Saturday in February."
        "Outstanding," Mike said.  "More partying!  I can't wait."
        "Congratulations!" Matt high-fived Stan and kissed Linda again.  "Where will it be?"
        "St. Casimir's, the parish I grew up in," Linda said.  "More to keep my parents happy than anything else.  I'd love to be married at St. Stephen's, to tell you the truth, but I don't want to start World War III with the 'rents.  I hope St. Casimir's won't be all booked up.  I'm going to check tomorrow."
        "You know that if there's anything we can do to help, consider it done," Mike said.
        "Well," Stan said, "for starters, if you'll stand up for us, we'd appreciate it."
        "We'd like nothing better," Matt said, looking at Mike and getting confirmation.  "Thanks for asking us.  This is so great!  I only have one question," he added.  "Which one of us is gonna be your best man?  I'm obviously the better choice, but I don't want to put words in your mouth.  Heh."
        Mike looked at his partner with amusement, saying nothing.
        "Flip a coin," Stan suggested.
        Mike pulled out a quarter.  "Call it," he told Matt.
        "Wait a minute," Matt responded.  "That's not one of your trick coins, is it?  Lemme look at that!"
        "No," Mike told him.
        "Yes."  Matt looked at Linda and Stan.  "He can't be trusted, y'know.  He's kinda the Slim Shady of the gay world."
        The young couple laughed, and before Matt could object further, Mike flipped the coin, caught it, and slapped it, still covered, on the back of his other hand.
        "Call it, dufus!" he said.
        "This better come out right!" Matt said.  "Heads."
        "Heads it is," Mike said, uncovering the coin and checking it out.  "You da man!"
        Matt grinned at Mike.  "You know I've just been yankin' your chain, doncha?  You're gonna be the best man because you are the best man!" Matt said, putting his arm around his partner and giving him a gentle shake and a kiss on the cheek.
        "No, you won the toss, fair and square," Mike said.
        "You'll both be my best man.  How 'bout that?" Stan intervened.  "It's my wedding, and I can do what I want!"
        Matt and Mike grinned at each other and gave Stan a thumbs-up.
        "Cool," Stan said.  "Now, there's one other thing I wanted to ask you.  And if it isn't appropriate, don't hesitate to say so.  Do you think we could have our reception here at the condo like you guys did?"
        "My gosh, yes!" Mike said.  "We'd love it!  As a matter of fact, we'd like to give you your reception here as a wedding gift."  Matt nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
        "That's too much!" Linda protested.  "You've already done so much for us that we can never repay you."
        "Bullshit, Lin!" Matt said.  "This is family, and there's no 'repay,' don't you get that?"
        Linda and Stan looked at each other uncertainly.
        "Well, we can talk about it some more later," Stan finally said.  "Thanks for the offer.  We appreciate it."
        " 'K, guys," Mike said.  "We'll see ya tomorrow.  And thanks for taking up the slack while Matt and I were gone.  We felt good knowing you were here with Mary and the boys."
        Breakers sat there patiently looking at them, waiting for his evening outing.
        "I see it's 'Breakers Time!!'" Mike said exuberantly, throwing his arms in the air and heading toward the foyer.  The dog got to his feet, wagging his tail and dancing around.
        "I'm going with you," Matt said.  On the way down in the elevator, Matt kissed Mike's neck, put his tongue in his ear, and played with his butt to get him horned up.
        "Son, I thought I about wore you out the last couple days," Mike said with a grin.  "But no-o-o.  You're insatiable."
        "I know it.  And now you're stuck with me through all eternity.  Heh."
        "Oh, man.  Well, there are worse fates than death by ejaculation.  I think.  Maybe.  No, I'm sure of it!"
        Their stiffies well hidden under their jackets, they were models of decorum, of course, by the time they exited the elevator, greeted the doorman and followed Breakers out the front door for his walk.
        *  *  *
        Mike was still up late studying in the den the following night when the phone rang about midnight.
        "Mike?"
        "Yeah?"
        "Tony Angelo."
        "Tony!  Good to hear your voice.  How ya doin'?'
        "Fine, Mike, but I have some bad news."
        Mike groaned.  "What?"
        "Somebody tried to take out Chris Russo a couple of hours ago as he was in uniform patrolling on the Eisenhower Expressway.  The detectives are trying to put all the information together yet.  He may have pulled over someone who was wanted and would have been identified when he radioed it in, so the guy popped him.  The alternate theory is it may have been skinheads getting revenge for his undercover work in busting Cliff Pietrowski and his gang at the construction site on Halsted.  Anyway, I called as soon as I heard because...I want you and Matt to be vigilant until we know for sure."
        "How bad is he?" Mike asked glumly.
        "Bad.  One shot to the head, one in the abdomen, one in the arm, one in the leg.  The bones in the arm and leg are broken, but they'll heal.  They don't know how serious the head wound is yet.  He's still unconscious."
        "Where did they take him?"
        "University of Chicago Hospital."
        "Have they rated his condition yet?"
        "I don't know."
        "I don't suppose they had a video camera in the cop car recording the stop."
        "I doubt it.  If had my way, every patrol car would have one, though.  Those cameras are worth their weight in gold."
        "Does he have family here, Tony?"
        "Just an aunt, I understand.  And I think I heard she's an invalid.  All crippled up with arthritis."
        "Fuck!  Will this shit never end, Tony?"
        "I wish I had an answer to that question, buddy.  Anyway, I wanted you to know.  Fill Matt in, will ya?  And you guys start watching yourselves.  If this was a planned attack on Chris, I don't want another repeat of what happened to Matt."
        "I hear ya loud and clear," Mike said.  "Thanks for thinking about us, Tony."
        "That's OK.  And on a positive note, while I've got ya on the phone, let me tell you again how much Marie and I enjoyed your wedding.  It was beautiful.  And the party back at your place was outstanding.  Thank you for inviting us.  You know we wish you every happiness."
        "Thanks, Tony.  Give Marie our best.  And thanks again for the call about Chris.  I have a friend who's a med student at the U of C, and he may be willing to track Chris' condition for us.  I'll call you with anything more I find out, and I hope you'll do the same for us."
        "Will do, Mike.  'Night."
        "'Night, Tony."
        Mike hung up the phone and sat there on the couch, his face in his hands, and let out a groan.  He didn't want to pass this news on to Matt, but knew he had to.  Before he went back to the bedroom, he went over to the small crucifix in the corner of the den, slipped a candle into the red vigil light beneath it, and lit it.  He stood there for several minutes praying for their friend.
        He finally forced himself to go down the hall to the bedroom.  He kept the overhead light off and turned on his halogen desk lamp, pointing it away from the bed where Matt was sleeping peacefully.  Moving to the bed, he lay down beside Matt and gently touched his face.  Matt's eyes fluttered open and he glanced at the clock.
        "Hey," Matt said sleepily.  "You're comin' to bed late.   Aren't cha gonna get undressed?"
        "Not right now.  Listen, I have some bad news."
        Matt woke up fast.  "What's goin' on?"
        "Tony Angelo just called.  Chris Russo has been shot, and it sounds like he's in pretty bad shape at U of C Hospital."
        Matt's head fell back on his pillow in shock and disbelief.  "I know you wouldn't joke about this.  What happened?"
        "They don't know yet.  It could either have been someone he was giving a ticket to on the Eisenhower, or payback from the skinsheads for helping get Cliff Pietrowski and his band of merry men busted.  Anyway, Tony wanted us to know about Chris, and to give us a warning to watch ourselves until they find out what's going on."
        "Do you know if Chris has family here?" Matt asked.
        "Not for sure.  Tony thinks he has an invalid aunt, that's about it."
        "Well, you know that the cops are gonna be all over this.  They don't take kindly to having one of their own shot.  But I think we better see what's going on at the hospital first hand, don't you?"
        "Absolutely."
        Matt rolled out of bed, found his clothes, and started to get dressed as Mike dialed Stan's bedroom at the far end of the condo.
        "This better be good," Stan warned when he answered.
        "It's not, I'm afraid," Mike said.  "Tony Angelo just called to say that Chris Russo's been shot, and Matt and I are going to the hospital.  Can you sleep down here again close to the kids?"
        Stan was immediately wide awake.  "Be right there," he said, and hung up.  He came into the bedroom before Matt was finished dressing.
        "Thanks, man," Mike said.
        "Let me know, 'K?" Stan said as he shucked his robe, climbed into the bed in his boxers, and pulled the covers over his head.  "This bed is my second home," he muttered.
        "Don't get too attached," Mike said with a smile, and he and Matt took off, stopping only to look in on the boys quickly before they left.
        They took Mike's Blazer, and drove south toward the hospital in silence.
        When they arrived at the hospital and went to the ICU, they weren't surprised to find Tony along with a Chicago PD detective and a cluster of state cops, some in uniform, some in civvies, in the waiting room.  Tony was surprised to see Matt and Mike, though.  He introduced them to the detective and to Chris' fellow state police officers.
        "Any change?" Matt inquired of Tony as the three of them sat down together.
        "Yeah.  He woke up once--a good sign.  But he didn't say anything.  That's not so good."  Tony spread his hands helplessly.
        Mike and Tony continued to talk as Matt leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began thinking about Chris, how handsome he was and what a good guy he had turned out to be.
        Mike and Matt sat talking intermittently with Tony until 1:30 a.m., when Tony finally said he had to get back to his precinct.  Matt asked him if he thought the nurses would let the three of them go into Chris' cubicle and offer a prayer for him.
        "I doubt it," Tony said, "but let me find out."  He walked to the nurses station, and a minute later he came back, shaking his head in the negative.  "They're working on him," he said.
        "Well, let's say our prayer out here, and then we hafta go, too," Matt said.
        The three of them huddled up, but were interrupted right then by one of the young state troopers, who asked if they were going to say a prayer for Chris.
        "Yes," Mike said.  "You're welcome to join us."
        "Thanks," the young guy said, and he turned and beckoned to the other eight or so troopers who were still on the unit.
        Mike, Matt and Tony had no sooner bowed their heads and were getting focused than they were surrounded by cops, who stood around in a close circle and bowed their heads as well, their arms around one another.

            "Lord Jesus," Matt prayed after a moment's silence, "You are no stranger to sorrow and pain, but in Your earthly ministry, You healed many.  We come to You now to ask You to sustain and heal our brother Chris, who has been injured in the line of duty.  Let Your eyes of mercy behold him, Lord, and lift him up.  Guide the hands and minds of all who minister to him, that they may be inspired to offer their best gifts in helping him live and regain his strength.  We ask for a sign of Your love for this Your brother, that he may be restored to us to offer his own best gifts to us his friends, and to this world.  Be with him now in his hour of need, Lord, and with each of us.  We ask these things in Your Blessed Name."
            "Amen."

        As the group split apart and began to scatter, all of the young troopers made a point of shaking hands with Matt and personally thanking him for his prayer.  Tony left after saying goodbye to Matt and Mike, promising to call if he heard any news about Chris' condition.  One young trooper, a tall, handsome blond with a buzz cut, good physique, strong features and an even stronger handshake, lingered to talk after the others had moved away.
        "Uh, I don't mean to pry, but are you the two guys who got married Thanksgiving weekend?" he asked.  "Chris told me about it, and I was just wondering."
        "Yes," Mike said, not knowing what to expect.
        "I'm Josh Harkness," he said.  "Chris and I are good buddies.  We went through training together.  Uh, a couple days ago Chris suggested I talk to you guys privately sometime if you could give me a few minutes."
        "No problem," Mike said.  "Do you want to do it by phone or in person?"
        "Maybe in person, if you don't mind," Harkness said.
        Mike reached down and tore off a blank piece of an abandoned newspaper, scribbled the condo's telephone number on it and handed it to the young trooper.
        "Give us a call and we'll have you stop by."
        "Thanks," the young trooper said.  "I'll call you early next week and we can set a date."
        "Good," Mike said.
        Matt and Mike waved goodbye to the few state troopers who were left in the waiting room, and walked out of the ICU.
        "What do you think that's about?" Matt asked his partner on the way down in the elevator concerning the encounter with the young trooper.
        "I could speculate, but I don't know," Mike said.  "Let's see if he calls."
        They located the Blazer and climbed in wearily.  Matt fell asleep, head against the side window, by the time Mike started the motor.
        *  *  *
        Mike was like a dog guarding a bone in following up tenaciously on Chris Russo's condition every day.  He had made a casual friend of a med student at the University of Chicago medical school the previous year when Mike and his classmates had been sent there to a special seminar, and he telephoned the man and explained his interest in keeping updated on Chris' condition.  He said he would be glad to check Chris' chart daily and let Mike know how he was doing, provided Mike kept what they were doing quiet.  Mike agreed.
        Mike hounded Tony Angelo until he got the name and telephone number of Chris' aunt on the northwest side of Chicago.  He called her, identified himself, and explained how he knew Chris.  The woman told him that she was Chris' only close relative, and broke down over the telephone about Chris' being hurt.  She also said that Chris always did all her shopping for her because she was housebound with advanced arthritis.  That was all Mike needed to hear, and he immediately cajoled the woman into giving him a list of her grocery and other needs.  He did the shopping and dropped off what he had purchased at her home, refusing any payment by saying they could "settle up later."  She was a very nice lady by the name of Carole Maggliozzi, and Mike made a commitment then and there to do her weekly shopping for her until Chris was back on his feet.  He didn't let on, of course, that Chris might very well die or be permanently disabled as a result of his wounds.
        "What is it that Dad always says?" Matt asked that night when they were in bed and Mike was explaining to him his plans for taking care of Chris' aunt.  "Oh, yeah.  'Stars in your crown.'  That's it.  I'm proud of you, Mike.  And so lucky to have you in my life.  Y'know, I can help out with the lady, too, bro.  We can take turns doing the shopping for her.  And in a pinch, we could certainly have a shopping service deliver her things."
        "Maybe in a pinch," Mike said.  "But she needs the visits as much as the groceries and stuff, I think."
        Matt wasn't too surprised about his partner putting himself out that way for a stranger, given what Mike had told him down on the beach before their wedding about wanting to be "a better person."  This new act of kindness just made Matt love him more and appreciate him more, if that was possible.
        Chris was moved out of the ICU three days later after successful surgery to remove the bullet from his head and repair his other wounds.  Mike's source at U of C Hospital told him that the trajectory of the bullet had been perfect for doing as little damage to the Chris' brain as possible, and that the surgeons were guardedly optimistic about his making a complete recovery from his head wound.  The wounds in the arm, leg and abdomen were not as serious, but conversely would probably take longer to heal.  Although Chris had awakened several times since surgery, he had yet to speak a word since he had been attacked.
        Mike had gone right from class to visit Chris shortly after he had been moved to the post-surgical wing at the U of C hospital, and was sitting beside his bed.  The young cop appeared to be sleeping, breathing evenly, his handsome and usually dark complexioned face white as a sheet.  Mike decided to talk to him as if he were awake and everything was normal.
        "Chris, this is Mike Broman.  I want you to know that Matt and I have been taking care of your Aunt Carole, getting her groceries and stuff, so don't worry about her.  She's doing great.  And when you're better, if it's all right with you, I'm gonna have a specialist at Northwestern re-evaluate her.  I looked at some of her medications, and I'm not sure they're giving her the best stuff for her condition.  With the latest medication, I think she could get some of her mobility back and have a lot less pain."
        Chris' eyes drifted open and he slowly turned his head to look at Mike, giving the latter a start.
        "You got her groceries for her, Mike?" he asked in a weak voice.
        "Chris!  You're awake!  And talking!  That's outstanding, man!!!"  Mike was excited.  He pressed Chris' call button so he could let the nurses know about the breakthrough.  A nurse hurried in and fussed over her patient for a bit, talking with him to make sure he could understand what was being said and could express himself, and then left to chart the fact that he was alert, conscious and verbalizing.
        "Damn!" Mike said when she left.  "What a relief to hear you talk, Chris!  The surgeons weren't sure how much damage that bullet to the head had done.  They were optimistic that there wouldn't be permanent impairment, but you never know.  If it's all right with you, I'm gonna call Tony Angelo at home--he won't be at his precinct until later.  He'll want to hear the good news right away, and the Chicago PD are gonna want to get a detective up here to talk with you about who shot you."
        "Yeah, do it.  I have pretty good recall about what happened."
        Mike used Chris' phone and called Tony, who was very happy to hear the news about the improvement in Chris' condition.  He said he'd notify the detective division right away, and they'd get a guy up there.  Mike sat down again, and gave Chris a smile.
        "Chris, I know you haven't had time to give any thought to where you're gonna stay when you get out of here," Mike said, "but Matt and I want to give you the option of staying with us 'til you're better.  You won't be able to stay alone, and we have plenty of room.  You're not gonna be very mobile for awhile, and between Matt and me and Stan and Linda and Mary, I think we can give you good care.  Linda's almost an RN.  Anyway, just think about it, OK?"
        "You'd do that for me?"  Chris looked surprised.
        "Well, yeah.  You're our friend.  We owe ya bigtime for getting the goods on that asshole Pietrowski and his bunch, whether you think so or not.  We'd take good care of you, I promise you that."
        Chris cracked a little smile.  "Y'know, Mike, if someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be friends with a gay couple and even remotely think about accepting an invitation to live with them for any reason whatsoever, I'd have said he was fucking nuts."
        "Well..."
        "I didn't mean that to be offensive, Mike.  I appreciate the offer.  And I'll give it some serious thought."
        " 'K,"  Mike said.  "Listen, dude, I'm gonna get out of here and let you get some rest.  Matt'll probably stop up to see ya later.  He's been pretty worried about you."
        "All right, Mike.  And listen, thanks for taking care of my Aunt Carole.  That's really above and beyond!"
        "That's OK.  Call her, by the way.  She's been really upset.  Do you have her number?"
        "I remember it.  Can you put the phone beside me on the bed?  I can't reach it."
        "Yep.  Here ya go."  Mike put the phone near Chris' good arm, and giving him a big smile, took off.
        Matt was home when Mike arrived, and was excited to hear that Chris was awake and talking.
        "I didn't have time to run this by you before, but I gave Chris the option of staying with us while he's recovering," Mike told his partner.  "I think between all of us here, we can give him what he needs.  It's probably a choice for him between coming here or going to a convalescent home, because he doesn't have any relatives other than his aunt, and she sure can't handle it.  It hope that's OK with you."
        "Of course it's OK.  I would have been disappointed if you hadn't made the offer."
        Mike took Matt's face in his hands and kissed him.  "Lord, I love you, babe!  So much it hurts sometimes."
        "Me, too, sweetboy!  But listen, we need to talk to Stan and Lin and Mary about this," Matt suggested.  "We've kinda volunteered them for some extra duty."
        "You're right.  I'll see if Mary is in her room," Mike said.  "Are Stan and Lin here?"
        "Yeah.  They're with the kids up in the pool.  I'll go up."
        They gave each other a dap, and Matt headed upstairs to the pool deck.  As he got to the top of the stairs, he heard the kids' happy voices and the sound of a beach ball flying around the pool.
        "DAD!!!" Michael yelled when Matt approached the pool.  "You need to get in the water!  Common in!"  The three boys gravitated over to the side of the pool and looked up at Matt.
        "Maybe a little later, boys," Matt said.  "I need to talk to Stan and Linda right now.  Guys, do you have a minute?"
        Stan heaved himself up on the deck and then pulled Linda up beside him.  Matt couldn't help noticing how good they both looked in their swim suits.  Stan was not only running, but had started a lifting program as well under Matt's tutelage.  And Linda had started running a couple times a week herself.
        " 'Sup, dude?" Stan asked.
        "Chris Russo woke up while Mike was visiting him this afternoon, and started talking.  It's looking good for his recovery, thank God.  Mike and I are thinking about bringing him here to convalesce if we can get you guys to help us with him.  He's gonna be pretty helpless for awhile, and he lives alone.  Does that sound all right to you?"
        "Absolutely," Linda said without hesitation.  "If we all pitch in, it won't be a problem.  It's a good idea, Matt."
        "I agree," Stan said, grinning.  "Bring the boy on!  We'll heal him up in no time!"
        "I appreciate this," Matt said.  "Chris said he'd think it over, so if you guys call him at the hospital, tell him we'd all enjoy having him here, 'K?"
        Stan and Matt high fived, and Matt turned to leave.
        "DAD!!!" Matthew shouted.
        "Cool your jets!" Matt instructed the boys. "I'll go put my suit on."
        "Yaaah!!!" the three boys yelled.  "Hurry up, Dad!"
        Matt went downstairs just as Mike came into the foyer from Mary's room.
        "It's a go!" Mike told him.  "She's all for it.  How about Stan and Linda?"
        "That's a big 'Yep!'  And I think they're gonna call Chris and just reinforce the fact we'd all like to have him here."
        "Cool!" Mike said.  "This should work out well, then."
        "Without a doubt!  Listen, the boys want us to come up and swim with 'em.  I know we're behind in our studying, but can you spare a few minutes to go up with me?"
        "Yeah.  'Cause I get to see ya naked when you put your suit on."  Mike squinted his eyes lasciviously and licked his lips.
        "Horndog!"
        "Uh huh!"
        Mike fingered and stroked Matt's butt all the way back to their bedroom as he simultaneously leaned over and kissed his neck repeatedly.  It was an act of will, once they were naked and both hard, not to jump into bed instead of putting their swimming trunks on and going up to the pool.  The spirit was willing and the flesh weak, but they managed it somehow anyway for the sake of the kids.
        *  *  *
        Two weeks later in the early afternoon, an ambulance delivered a still pasty-looking Chris Russo to Matt's and Mike's condo.  The three boys watched wide-eyed as the ambulance team transferred Chris from their gurney to a hospital bed which had been installed in the bedroom between the den and the kids' room.  There was a standard hospital bedside table next to the bed.  The young cop's injured leg and arm were each in a cast, and his midsection was still bandaged.
        Chris had wrestled long and hard with the decision about whether to take the Bromans up on their offer to recuperate at the condo.  But calls from Stan and Linda and Mary Bradford and even Tony Angelo had finally pushed him to see it their way.  He knew he would have dreaded staying in a convalescent facility, and the truth was he really wanted to stay with this strange and wonderful family.  Having been raised as an only child in a one-parent family after his dad had been killed in Vietnam, it was bound to be a brand new experience for him.  His mother had died before he finished college, and he had had only his Aunt Carole to call family since then.  Besides, he had come to care a lot for these people.  His feelings for them had snuck up on him, he realized.
        Mary went in to see him right away after the ambulance crew had finished their work and gone.
        "Chris, welcome," she said with a big smile, and went over and caressed his forehead gently and made sure he was well situated in bed.  "We're so glad to have you here."
        "Thank you, Mrs. Bradford.  It's kind of you to take me in like this."
        "I'm 'Mary,' Chris.  Call me 'Mary.'"
        "Yes, ma'm, I mean, Mary.  Thank you."
        "You remember the boys, don't you?  Say hello to Chris, boys."
        The three little guys approached the bed of their new guest a little warily, and after each of them had greeted him, stared at him with big eyes.
        "This is Matthew, this is Kyle, and this is Michael," Mary said,  pointing to each of them in turn  "I know you met them before.  You probably can't tell them apart right now, but you'll be able to in a few days."
        "Hi, guys," Chris said with a wan smile.  "How ya doin'?"  The boys were bigger than the last time he had seen them, but they were as cute as ever.
        "Good," Matthew said.  "What happened to you?"
        "Well," Chris said, "I'm a police officer, and I got hurt on the job."  He didn't know how much Matt and Mike wanted the boys to know about the shooting.
        "Are you going to live with us now?" Michael asked.
        "Yes," Chris said.  "Until I heal up.  Is that OK with you guys?"
        The three boys nodded solemnly.
        "Chris," Mary said, "I was a practical nurse in my younger days, and Linda is just about to be registered, so I don't want you to be shy about your needs, all right?  It's going to be awhile before you can get out of bed to go to the bathroom or wash yourself.  Now, may I do anything to make you more comfortable?"
        "I don't think so right now, Mary, thanks."
        "All right.  I'm putting your meds in the top drawer of your table.  Your pain pills are closest to you.  I'm going to get a pitcher of water and a glass and put them on the table near your good arm," she said.  "They're unbreakable, so don't worry about dropping them.  There's room on the table for the phone, too.  Just dial '9' to get an outside line.  Here's a list of all the extensions in the condo--just hit 'intercom' and the number you want.  If you can't rouse anyone, push 'intercom' and dial  ' * ' and talk.  All the phones in the place will be on speaker.  I guarantee you'll get somebody then.  And here's the remote for the TV and the stereo."
        "Wow!  All the comforts of home, and then some.  Thank you very much."
        "That's all right.  Well, we'll let you get some rest now, Chris."
        "Are Matt and Mike here?"
        "No.  They're still at school.  They're playing catch-up on their school work because they took time off for their honeymoon.  Linda should be home in about an hour, and Stan shortly after that.  So, call me if you need me."
        "Thanks again, Mary."
        Mary shooed the kids out of the room, and Chris put his head down on his pillow.  The trip from the hospital to the condo had taken more out of him than he thought.  Soon he drifted off.  He didn't even hear Mary re-enter the room later with a pitcher of ice water and a glass, and leave them on his bedside table.
        He woke up about two hours later just as Stan strolled into the room.
        "Hey, Chris.  Good to see ya, man!  How ya feelin'?"
        "Hi, Stan.  I've been better.  How are you?"
        "Good.  Glad you're here.  Do you need anything?"
        "Yeah, actually.  I need to tap a kidney.  Is there something around here I can pee in?"
        Stan reached down at the side of the bed, and handed Chris the proper utensil.
        "God, being helpless like this is fucking humiliating!" Chris said as he stuffed the urinal under the sheet and his gown and tried to make sure his penis was in it before he let go.
        "I know.  But it could be any one of us lying there in your spot, so don't sweat it, dude.  We're gonna take good care of ya."
        Chris' face reddened as the sound of his urine filling the metal implement became audible.  When he finished, he hesitated to just hand the thing to Stan.
        "Give it to me," Stan said.  "I'll dump it and wash it out."
        "I'm sorry..."
        "Get over it!" Stan instructed as he took the urinal and went into the bathroom.  Linda arrived just as he emerged from Chris' bathroom, basin in hand.
        "Hey, guys," she said.  "Welcome, Chris.  How are you feeling?"
        "Well...a little embarrassed about having everybody do such personal things for me.  Maybe coming here wasn't the best idea."
        "Why not?  Somebody, somewhere, would be doing exactly what we're gonna do for ya.  What's the difference?" she asked.
        "It just feels different to ask friends for help with...stuff."  Chris blushed.
        "Who better, sweetie?  You're not gonna have a modest bone left in your body by the time we get through with you," Linda laughed.
        "I know it's stupid," Chris admitted, "but I've never been sick before and had to have anyone take care of my, uh, needs.  Be patient with me."
        "'Patience' is my middle name, Chris," Linda said.  She opened the second drawer in his bedside table and took out a digital thermometer and a pad of paper and a pen.  Writing down the date and time, she replaced a sterile plastic piece on the nub of the thermometer, stuck it in Chris' ear and pulled the trigger.  She removed it and wrote down his temperature on the pad.
        "How is it?" Chris asked.
        "A little above normal.  That's not surprising.  Nothing to worry about.  You're doing remarkably well for what you've been through, tough guy," Linda said with a smile.
        Just then Matt knocked on the door and looked in with a grin.  "Any limit on visitors?" he asked.
        "Hey, Matt," Chris said.  "Come on in."
        "How ya doin', buddy?"
        "I'm...'adjusting,' I guess you'd say.  But I'm really wondering whether this isn't gonna be a bigger burden on you guys than you thought."
        Matt's face grew solemn.  "Listen, Chris, let's get something straight right now.  Our family here has been blessed in this life more than you know.  The least we can do is pass on some of those blessings to others.  You have a need right now, and every one of us is glad you're here.  Relax and roll with it. We aren't gonna have you lyin' in your own crap in some nursing home where they don't give a flying fuck about you!"
        Chris stared at Matt, and for the first time since his mother had died, his emotions took control, and he wept.
        
Part 2

        Whatever damage the bullet to Chris Russo's brain had done, it hadn't affected his memory.  That had been pretty clear when a young Chicago cop from the detective division and a police sketch artist had shown up at Chris' hospital room not long after he had regained consciousness, before Chris had gone to the condo to stay.  He had given the two men a complete description of the man who had shot him on the Eisenhower Expressway:  Latino, 5'10" tall, about 160 pounds, brown eyes and hair, dark complexioned with a small star tattooed on his left temple.  When the detectives ran their drawing through the National Crime Information System (NCIS), they immediately found a match.  The man was already wanted for murder and armed robbery in California, and his new crime in Illinois was added to the information that went out on the wire to all police agencies country-wide.  Tony Angelo had been relieved that the perpetrator had no connection to the skinheads, because it seemed less likely that anyone was gunning for the Broman family members as a result of the arrests on Halsted Street.
        Meanwhile, Mike had been as good as his word.  Two days after he had told Chris at the hospital that he'd like to have his Aunt Carole's condition and her meds re-evaluated, a para-transit vehicle picked her up from her little bungalow, wheelchair and all, and delivered her to the osteoarthritis center at Northwestern Hospital.  Mike met her at the ambulance entrance, and wheeled her to the appropriate lab for tests.  Despite her chronic pain, Carole had been excited because it was the first time she had been out of her house in months.  Staff at Northwestern had given her a complete physical, drawn blood and administered tests for mobility in her joints.
        The results were available within a week after she had been tested.  Mike had been right.  There were better and more up-to-date meds available for Carole's condition than she had been taking.  He had picked up new scripts from the head of the clinic, procured the new meds for her and dropped them off at her house the next time he shopped for her groceries.
        By the time he had come back a few days later, he hardly knew it was the same woman.  The lines in her face from chronic pain had eased, and she was out of her wheelchair and moving around the house very well, if not at top speed.
        She had given Mike a big hug, Italian style, and kissed him on both cheeks when she opened the front door and saw who it was.
        "Michael!  You're a miracle worker, you know!!" she had told him immediately.
        Mike had grinned.  "I wish I could take the credit, Carole, but I can't.  You look good, though.  I take it the pain is better."
        "Oh, my yes.  I know it's still there, but it's nothing I can't handle.  I feel like a new person, and that's your doing, you sweet boy!  What a good friend you've been, Michael, you and Matthew!"
        Another sign she had been better was that she had accompanied everything she said with hand gestures, in true Italian style.
        "Well, thank you," Mike had said, a little embarrassed at the praise.  "I hope you know we feel the same about you."
        "Come in, come in.  Don't even think about running off.  Sit down.  Would you like some coffee or tea?" she'd said, pulling him in the door.
        "Sure, I have time for a cup of coffee," Mike said, slipping off his jacket and sitting down on the couch.
        "You sit.  I'll warm it up right now.  You drink this coffee, and you'll be awake half the night!!"  Carole had laughed raucously and made a beeline for the kitchen.
        A few minutes later she came back carrying a tray with coffee, sugar, cream, and a pastry on it.  She put the tray in front of Mike and went over and sat in an overstuffed chair opposite him.
        "Eat, eat!" she had instructed.  "Now, to important things.  How is Christopher today?"
        "He's a little better every day," Mike had said.  "It's just going to take time and patience."
        "I know.  He's such a good boy.  I've been so worried about him."
        "Don't worry.  He's improving right on schedule.  Listen, I wanted you to know that Matt and I have invited him to come and stay with us for awhile after he's released from the hospital, and I think he's going to do that.  He won't be able to stay alone for awhile."
        Carole had looked surprised.  "Oh, my.  That's so nice of you boys, Michael!  He can come here, you know.  After all, he's family."
        "We've talked about that," Mike had said.  "But we think it might be better if he stayed with us, at least for right now.  First of all, we have two ladies who are nurses who live with us, and that kind of expertise is good to have around.  And second, he'll have a bedroom and bathroom all on the same floor.  He can't climb any stairs for awhile, yet.  And third, I know you're feeling better, but you need to increase your activities gradually, not jump into things with both feet.  Taking care of Chris is going to take a lot of energy.  You know without a doubt he'd want to come here if it were the best option, Carole."
        "Hah!  After what you've done for me, I should tell you you're wrong?  I don't think so.  You're almost a doctor!  If Christopher should stay with you, then that's where he'll be.  Can I come and see him?"
        "Of course.  Just let us know, and someone will come and pick you up."
        Carole had been satisfied with that.  The two of them had chatted some more until Mike had to leave, with Carole telling him about the old ethnic Italian neighborhood surrounding the house they were sitting in where she had lived in most of her life.  He got the clear impression that as her mobility increased, Carole would once more become the eyes and ears of her neighborhood when it came to knowing everything that was going on.  Everything.
        Mike liked this woman a lot.  He had never met anyone quite like her.  He sensed she had a good heart.  A big heart.
        *  *  *
        Matt's mood began improving by leaps and bounds.  After conferring with Dr. Landry, the surgeon who had operated on Matt after he had been stabbed, Mike let his partner start exercising on the beach again on a restricted basis.  Matt was to jog, not run, one mile at a time, and then walk a mile, starting out with a two mile maximum for the first few days.  Mike knew he was probably being overly cautious, but he just didn't want to take a chance that Matt's lung wasn't as healed up as it was supposed to be.  Mike stuck right with him on the beach during the whole first week of the new regimen, making sure Matt got back to the condo in good shape every day before he turned himself around and headed out for his own run, full out, Breakers at his side.
        The mid-December weather was cold and unpleasant, with Chicago living up to its sobriquet "the Windy City."  There was some snow on the ground.  The joy of getting back into his exercise routine was so great, though, that Matt paid no attention to the weather at all.  The rest of the condo runners, which now included everybody but Mary and Chris, kept at it faithfully, but they noticed that they didn't have a lot of company on the beach most of the time due to the wind and cold.
        Everybody picked up on the improvement in Matt's mood right away, and it was good to have the "old" Matt back in their midst.  No one was impervious to one of Matt's good moods no matter what their current problems were.  He put the whole condo family in a positive frame of mind without even trying, even Chris, whose spirits had generally not rebounded the way they should have as he had started the healing process.
        Matt was sitting at his desk studying in his and Mike's bedroom in nothing but his jockies one night when Mike came back from a run on the beach with Stan.  Going to his room, Mike got his partner's undivided attention when he stood behind him and ran his very cold hands down Matt's bare chest and into his shorts.
        "AAAARRRRGGGG!!  You miserable piece of shit!!!" Matt yelled, jumping out of his chair to get the offending digits out of his crotch.  "What did you do that for, Fuckstick?"
        "I was just following medical instructions," Mike responded calmly in his best professional tone.  "Dr. Landry told me to make absolutely sure I checked your reflexes.  They're good.  Very good, in fact.  You pass."
        Matt grabbed his partner, still wearing his running clothes, and wrestled him down on their bed.
        "You think you're pretty cute, doncha?" Matt demanded, nose to nose with Mike.  "Well, you are, but payback will be a bitch, I can promise you that!  Count on it!"
        "I thought the Bible says, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.' "
        "It does.  But sometimes when something totally unwarranted has happened, He delegates.  This is one of those times."
        "Well, as long as God is watching, we may as well be entertaining," Mike said with an evil grin.  "So it's story-time!"
        "I want a divorce!  Right now!!  This marriage isn't going the way I thought it would at all," Matt said, rubbing noses with Mike.  "You're a bad person, and you have a mean streak.  No judge in the world will make me stay with you.  And the Church will give me an annulment in 10 seconds."
        "Heh.  Shut up," Mike said.
        "There was an old couple who were planning to go on a second honeymoon for their 50th wedding anniversary.  The old woman said, 'We'll go to all the same places that we did on our first honeymoon.'
        "'Uh huh,' said the old man.
        "'We'll do all the things that we did on our first honeymoon,' said the old woman.
        "'Uh huh,' said the old man.
        "'And we'll make love like we did on our first honeymoon,' said the old woman.
        "'That's right,' said the old man, 'except this time I get to sit on the side of the bed and cry, "It's too big, it's too big!"'"  
        Matt couldn't help himself, and burst out laughing.
        "You dweeb!" he said.  "I'll show you big!  Get your ass naked right now.  It's the least you can do."
        "I need to take a shower."
        "No way!  You're getting a good tongue bath!  That's as clean as you're gonna get."
        "Well, when you put it that way..."  Mike extricated himself from his brother's grasp, stood up and stripped.  When his clothes lay in a heap at his feet, he went to their bedroom door, shut it and locked it, came back and threw himself , already half hard, back on the bed.  They kissed affectionately for a few minutes, and then Matt began working Mike's nipples, alternately pinching them and nibbling on them while Mike pushed Matt's jockies down his legs and off on to the floor.  Soon both their dicks were rock hard and plastered against up their abs, throbbing with each heart beat.
        "You look so good to me, sometimes I can't believe it," Matt said, licking Mike's beautiful chest yet again.  Sliding down in the bed, he grasped Mike's tool and deep throated it all in one motion.  Mike tensed and his breath whooshed out of his lungs, and then he began panting to try to keep from orgasming.
        "Easy," Mike groaned.  "I'm almost there."
        Matt stopped all movement, and just held his partner perfectly still until the latter came back from the brink.  Pulling off a bit so he could get a breath, Matt started fellating Mike slowly as his partner's sweet tasting precum began flowing into Matt's mouth.
        "Yes!!" Mike said as the ecstasy of what he was feeling took control.  He began bucking his hips gently as Matt sucked his cock while gently massaging his balls with one hand and sensuously stroking his stomach with the other.
        Without dislodging Matt from his penis, Mike swung around into a 69.  After licking Matt's dick thoroughly, he went down on him all the way, swallowing the big head of his lover's beautiful cock until it was lodged down his throat.  Then he began bobbing his head slowly, giving himself a chance to breathe occasionally as he did so.  Matt was making little muffled, guttural sounds of approval as he continued his own ministrations to Mike.  The pace of their lovemaking slowed, then accelerated, then slowed again as the two young men extended their mutual pleasure as long as possible.  After 20 minutes on the sex roller coaster, their passion could no longer be denied, and they each ejaculated thick ropes of cum until it began escaping the confines of their mouths and running down on to the bed.  Then, their nervous systems short-circuited for the moment, they lay quiescent, each still holding his partner's cock in his mouth even after orgasm.
        Eventually, Mike released Matt, marshaled his strength and turned back around so the lovers faced each other.  They deep-kissed one another, tongues thrusting slowly and deliberately, tasting their commingled semen.  Totally relaxed, smiling, they drifted off to sleep, clasped together.
        Matt awakened first a few minutes later.  He lay there in his partner's arms looking at Mike's face as he dozed.  By that time of the evening, Mike's dark blond stubble was visible on the handsome planes of his face.  That handsome face.  For perhaps the thousandth time Matt thanked God for restoring Mike to him after their separation.
        Mike's eyes opened shortly thereafter, and he smiled into his partner's eyes.
        "What?" Matt asked, grinning back, as Mike studied him intently.
        "I love you, man.  Body and soul.  Totally.  That's all," Mike said.
        Matt held his lover's face in his hands and caressed it tenderly, stroking gently under his eyes with his thumbs.  "We just keep getting better together, y'know?  I don't just mean the sex."
        "I know."
        After a few more minutes, his powers of thought gradually returning, Matt shifted gears.  "Listen, I need to get back to studying, but we need to talk about Christmas sometime soon," Matt said.  "As usual, it's snuck up on us."
        "What about it?" Mike asked.
        "Well, you know we told Mom and Dad at Thanksgiving that we'd spend Christmas at home with them in Pennsylvania," Matt said.  "And we need to do that for Dad's sake.  He needs the time at home.  But now we have Chris, and we can't all just traipse off and leave him alone here."
        "You're right.  We'll hafta talk to Mom and Dad about it, of course, but I say we take everybody home, including Chris.  And I think we should invite Carole to go with us, too.  We can't leave her here to spend Christmas alone if Chris goes with us."
        "That sounds good to me," Matt said.  "Let's call Mom in a little while.  There are plenty of bedrooms if they open up the old wing of the house.  Mom and Dad love having a crowd there, you know that, and so do Branford and Mrs. Brighton."
        "Andie!" Mike exclaimed.  "We forgot Andie.  She needs to come with us, too."
        "Absolutely!  Jeff'll be grumpy if she's not there!  Now that I think about it, 'grumpy' probably doesn't cover what he'd be!  Thoroughly pissed off is more like it!"
        "OK," Mike said.  "I'll tell ya what!  With this many people, and with Chris still with a cast on his arm and leg, I think we should charter a plane.  We have enough people to justify the expense.  I'll call tomorrow and see what we can get.  How does that grab ya?" Mike asked, palming his partner's now-flaccid cock.
        "It grabs me perfectly, just like you always do.  I think this will be a most excellent adventure!"  Matt kissed him, reclaimed his dick, and they rolled out of bed in a very good mood and re-dressed in gym shorts to hit the books until they called their mother.
        Later in the evening, on a hunch, they called their dad's apartment in Washington instead of home, and sure enough, their mother answered.
        "Broman residence," she said.
        "Mommy!  It's Matt."
        "And also Mike, your more mature son," Mike said from his extension.
        Jane Broman laughed.  "Dad, it's Matt and Mike.  Get on an extension."
        There was a click.
        "All right, you guys," Justice Broman said.  "What's going on?"
        "Mon pere," Matt said.  "Wie gehts?"
        "I think you'd better settle on one language or the other, Matt," Justice Broman suggested with a laugh.  "You'll confuse the guys manning the government wiretap."
        "They wouldn't dare tap your phone!" Mike said indignantly.
        "I think I'm kidding," Mr. Broman said.  "But there are all kinds of strange things going on these days."
        "Nothing is as strange as your firstborn's antics, I can assure you of that," Mike said.
        "So you're saying things are normal," Jane Broman said.
        "Yeah," Mike said, laughing.  "Perfectly normal."
        "Humph!" Matt said.  "Listen, I wanted to touch base with you about Christmas.  There are a few complications on our end."
        "You're not coming home?" Mrs. Broman wailed.
        "No," Matt said.  "We're coming.  We promised we would when you were here at Thanksgiving.  But we're bringing everybody, if that's all right."
        "Who's everybody?" Mrs. Broman asked.
        "Let's see," Mike said.  "There's Matt and me, Mary, Stan and Linda, Matthew, Michael and Kyle, Chris Russo, and his Aunt Carole.  Carole Maggliozzi.  And Andie Parker.  That's 11 of us.  And Breakers makes 12."
        "Chris Russo.  That's the young police officer who caught the man who stabbed you, isn't it?" Justice Broman asked.  "We met him at your wedding."
        "Yes," Matt said.  "He was shot a few weeks ago when he was on patrol, and he's recuperating here at the condo.  He has a cast on one arm and one leg.  We can't leave him here, and anyway, it will give him a real lift to be with us for Christmas.  He and his aunt are the only family either of them has, so that's why we want to bring Carole.  She's nice, you'll like her."
        "Good, sweetheart," Mrs. Broman said.  "The more the merrier, you know that.  We can open up the bedrooms in the old wing of the house.  We have plenty of room.  Jack and Judy will be here, and Grandma, if she's able to travel, which is 'iffy.'  The staff at home will be happy to have something to do.  Anyway, we're looking forward to seeing you all.  It will be wonderful to have you home."
        "Let's keep Jeff in the dark about Andie," Matt suggested.  "He'll fall on his butt when he sees her.  We'll warn her at this end not to say anything when he calls her."
        "All right," Mrs. Broman said.  "But keep my name out of your little joke, please."
        "All right!  This is gonna be fun!  Now I'm seriously pumped!" Matt said.
        "Me, too!" Mike said.  "I miss you both."
        "We miss you, too, son.  How are you getting over here?" Mr. Broman asked.
        "I'm going to charter a plane," Mike said.
        "Good idea," Justice Broman responded. "You have enough people to make it worthwhile.  Well, we'll see you soon, boys!  Safe trip!"
        They hung up, and Mike ran back to his and Matt's bedroom, where he grabbed his partner and covered his face with big, sloppy wet kisses, just for the sheer joy  of it.
        *  *  *
        Chris had fallen for Matthew, Michael and Kyle in a big way.  The young cop had hardly arrived for his stay at the condo when the three boys started making a beeline for his room immediately after they came home from pre-school every day.  After several days, Chris found himself counting the hours and minutes until those little faces peeked in the door and the boys asked if they could come in.  The kids had awakened in him feelings that he had never expected.
        The hospital bed was tall, so the boys had dragged the highchairs they had pretty much outgrown at that point, without the trays affixed, into Chris' room. Crammed into their respective seats, the three of them sat high enough to see Chris eye to eye and carry on a conversation.  So, simultaneously with the start of his recuperation at the condo, Chris began to get detailed descriptions from the kids about what went on at school every day.
        "All right," Chris said to the boys one afternoon, having himself watched cartoons on TV all morning, "I want to know which one of you guys is really 'Spongebob Squarepants.'  Be honest, now, and tell me the truth.  I know one of you is, for sure  You're just in disguise."
        The boys looked at each other with big blue eyes, and started laughing.
        "No-o-o-o!" Matthew said.  "But you prolly work at the Krusty Krab!"
        "Oh, no I don't!" Chris said.  "Well, which one of you has the squarest pants?  He's probably 'Spongebob.'  Who is it?  Will the real Spongebob please stand up?!"
        "It might be Michael," Kyle suggested.  "It's not me, I know that."
        Michael denied it, of course.  But the great Spongebob Squarepants controversy gave the four of them several hours of pleasure wrangling about who it was, and which of them might be Spongebob's best friends, 'Patrick' and 'Squidward.'  The kids loved it.
        When the boys told Matt about it, he decided he was going to have a little fun.  On the way home from school one day, he stopped at a store and bought a yellow T-shirt and a pair of the ugliest brown boxer shorts on the face of the earth.  When he got home, he wetted the boxers, took some starch; and shaped the leg openings into squares.  The next afternoon he came home a little early, and while the boys were in Chris' room talking as usual, he put on the yellow T and starched boxers with the square leg holes and walked in on them.
        "Hi!" he said, looking pleased with himself.  "I'm Spongebob Squarepants, and I heard you've been looking for me."
        The three boys began to laugh, and Chris laughed so hard he almost fell out of bed.  The boys came over to their dad and felt the "squarepants."
        "These are stiff, Dad," Michael said.  "You better put these in the laundry."  And then it was Matt's turn to laugh.
        The joke played, Matt gave the squarepants to Mike, telling him that he wanted him to wear them exclusively on any day he thought he might want to have sex, because they were now his "lucky boxers."  Mike's reply was vigorous and unprintable.
        Of her own volition, Linda had assumed primary responsibility for care of Chris, backed up by Mary when Linda had to be in class.  Chris and Linda had developed a good relationship, and Chris had quickly lost his initial shyness with her when he was naked, being bathed, and having her help him with his basic bodily functions.  She handled her duties like the true professional she was.
        Chris also began to develop an appreciation for how this unusual little family in the condo functioned so well.  It looked effortless at first glance, but it clearly depended on everyone carrying out a daily set of basic tasks while working with complicated personal schedules.  What needed to be done was done well, though.
        Following Chris' doctor's orders and Mike's instructions, before many days had passed Linda had Chris sitting up on the side of his bed, and up on crutches for increasing periods of time every day walking around the condo.  She was troubled when she saw that there seemed to be some residual weakness in Chris' left hand--he had been shot in the right side of his head, the side of brain which controls the motor functions on the left side of the body.  When she told Mike what she was observing, he was concerned as well, and gave Chris a rubber ball to squeeze over and over in that left hand as opportunity presented itself.  Mike discussed the problem with Chris' neurosurgeon, and a date was set to take him back to the U of C Hospital for a follow-up exam.
        The exam confirmed that there was likely to be at least some permanent weakness in Chris' left hand, although he was far from suffering paralysis in that hand.  Other functions on the left side of his body were normal.  The realization that this probably spelled the end of Chris' career as a police officer was not lost on him, and he soon fell into a downward emotional spiral.  Within days, only Matthew, Michael and Kyle could bring half a smile to his face.  Even when Zia Carole came up to visit, she had a hard time getting him to talk, which upset her terribly.  Linda began to have trouble getting him to eat his meals and to do his exercises.  He began to spend more and more time alone in his room alone rather than joining the others in the den for TV or conversation.  The whole family worried about him, and Mike seriously considered urging Chris to allow a therapist to come in and talk with him.
        One evening Matt took a break from studying in his bedroom and walked down the hall.  Peering into Chris' dimly lighted room, he saw him lying in his bed passively--no music, no TV, eyes half shut, his face an expressionless mask.  Taking a deep breath, Matt went in and shut the door behind him.  Chris looked over at him blankly and then looked away.
        "Hey, Chris, we need to talk," Matt said, approaching the bed and sitting down in a chair.
        "Can we make it some other time?" Chris asked.  "I don't feel like it right now."
        "No, not really.  This is as good a time as we're gonna get."
        Chris sighed.  "All right."
        "I know we've never had the chance to know each other really well, not yet, anyway.  But I think highly of you and what you've already accomplished in your life.  I'm wondering--do you have any trust in me at all?" Matt asked.
        "Whaddaya mean?"
        "I mean, do you have any respect or trust or confidence in me at all as a person?"
        "Well, as you said, we don't know each other all that well," Chris said.  "I think you're a good person, though, if that's what you're asking.  You and Mike have been very good to me and Aunt Carole."
        "Well, thank you.  That's nice of you to say, but believe me, I didn't come in here to collect your thanks.  I came in here because, to be blunt, I think you need an attitude adjustment, buddy.  And I'm just the guy to do that, because I've been lucky enough to get so many of these attitude adjustments when I needed 'em, from people who cared enough about me to go to the trouble."
        Chris said nothing and stared at the wall.
        "Let me ask you something," Matt said.  "What do you see when you look at Mike and me?"
        "I don't wanna play twenty questions with you, Matt."
        "Let's make this painless, Chris.  What do you see?"
        "I don't know.  Young guy, smart, good looking.  What do you want me to say?"
        Matt smiled.  "Smart, good looking, rich, no problems.  Never had any problems.  Am I right?"
        Chris shrugged.
        "I suppose you can't be blamed for thinking that, but I wanna share some things with you that..." --Matt hesitated--  "...just might give you a little more accurate picture.  Contrary to what you think, life hasn't been a bed of roses for Mike and me, especially Mike.
        Chris looked at him, expressionless.
        "Before I say anything more, I want you to know that I'm not smart enough to have figured most of this out on my own.  A lot of it I know only because of things my dad has said to me and Mike over the years, and from watching how my mom and dad have handled the bad news in their lives.  I hope that'll give what I'm going to tell you a little more credence,"  Matt said.
        "There's never a good time for problems like you're facing to arise," Matt continued.  "But they come along anyway.  I know you're hurting right now, physically and every other way.  You're feeling down, and understandably so.  I'm not trying to shame you into being cheerful.  You're grieving the possible loss of your career in law enforcement because of your injury.  I get that.  This is the work you wanted to do, and you sacrificed plenty to equip yourself to do the job.  And I understand very well that there's no timetable on grief and no guaranteed cure for it, so I'm not claiming to be omniscient about how long it should take for your mental attitude to improve.  Not by a long shot.
        "Mike and I have had some pretty rough times ourselves, and our money and social standing didn't do a thing to protect us.  Maybe you know this, but when we were in college, Mike's whole family was killed in a plane crash.  He had to fight hard to keep going, and it wasn't easy.  Later on, we were outed on campus for being gay, and Mike got beaten to a pulp, almost, by masked guys with baseball bats.  The physical pain for him was bad enough, but I think the pain of feeling that people hated us, or at least were looking down on us, because we were gay, was worse by far.
        "We both started grieving what we perceived as our loss of status.  But we were both jocks, and what the outing and the beating eventually did for us was to move us pretty fast from grief to being pissed off.  It made us set up team meetings and tell our teammates, fuck yes, we're gay and we're partners, but that we loved our school and our sport and that nothing was going to stop us from giving our two teams all the dedication and energy we had.  Being angry enough to confront the issue like that had a good outcome.  Not one of our teammates turned his back on us.  In fact, they all started looking out for us around campus.  People on campus who didn't like us because we were gay watched their mouths when they were around our teammates, I can tell you that.  If you were homophobic, you couldn't be too public about it or there were consequences.  And the threat of physical harm to gays on campus dropped significantly as a result.  In the world we face every day, though, we're well aware that a significant part of the population hates us without ever knowing us.  That's just a fact we live with, and will all our lives.
        "That was brought home to me in a big way when I got stabbed on the beach.  Somebody hated me enough to try to kill me!  If it hadn't been for Mike and the family; I don't think I would have made it.  I know my attitude around home hasn't always been the greatest as I've been recuperating from that, but I'm trying to do better all the time, believe me.
        "I know you're sad about what happened to you--we all are.  And maybe you're angry about it, too--I know I am.  Of the two, sadness or anger, I'd rather have you be damned angry about what's happened to you.  I'm asking you not to grieve about it more than you have to.  And don't you even dare think that what happened to you is a sign that the good things, the good times, in your life are over.  Grief and depression about this injury can eat you up if you let them own you for too long.  I know that for a fact.  If you can't shake your grief, though, and sometimes people can't, I want you to let us know.  There's help for that.  But best case scenario, I want you to use your anger to move you forward into a new plan for your life if it really works out you can't be a cop anymore.  I know this is just a personal opinion, but when a door closes for any of us, a lot of times another door will open for us if we look for it.  I think you need to take a step back from what's happened to you and begin to look for what can come out of this whole thing.
        "Above all, I want you to know that you're not alone in facing whatever's around the corner for you, Chris.  We're here for you.  Mike and I and everybody who lives here see good things in you.  We see love and caring in you.  We see strength in you.  We see good character in you.  We're your friends, and don't you forget it.  And because you are a friend, if you even think about giving up and not working to your potential, I give you my personal word we'll kick your ass bigtime."  Matt paused and looked down at the floor, and then back up at Chris.  "I guess that's all I have to say.  I hope you'll give it some thought."
        Chris swallowed hard, and then slowly turned his head and looked Matt in the eye.  Nothing was said for a long moment as the two young men stared at one another.
        "Matt, I don't know what to tell you right now.  I'll certainly think about what you've said."  Chris paused.  "I know I probably needed to hear it.  So, thanks."
        Chris stuck out his hand.  Matt got up from his chair, and they shook on it.
        Matt started to walk out of the room, but turned back at the door.
        "By the way, buddy, you're flying home to Pennsylvania with all of us for Christmas.  We're asking Aunt Carole to come along, too."
        Matt didn't see it as he left, but Chris got a look of total surprise on his face, shaking his head in amazement about what had just transpired between the two of them.  He knew one thing--he hadn't really been looking forward to the holidays all that much, but now he was starting to.
        Staring at the wall of his bedroom, his thoughts drifted back to his growing-up years.  His mother had had to struggle, working full time as a secretary while raising a son alone, but she'd never given up.  He'd never lacked for the essentials, but there had never much money for any frills.  Mrs. Russo had kept him on a short leash during his school years and made him study.  His grades were good, which made him eligible for sports, which he really liked and for which he had some talent.  He'd played some football, and also done a little boxing.  His grades in high school had been good enough to earn him a scholarship for the college education that he otherwise could never have afforded.  His mom had had a hard life, though, and it had taken its toll.  She had died of a brain aneurysm his junior year in college.  That was when he went to live with his Aunt Carole, his mother's sister, when he wasn't away at college.
        All in all, his life hadn't been an easy one, but like his mom, he had never been a quitter.  He knew instinctively that Matt had been right in what he had said.
        So at that point he shed the last tears he was going to shed about being shot and what it meant for his life and his career.  When he was finished, he dried his face, sat up on the side of the bed, put on his robe and reached for his crutches.  Cursing softly under his breath about the inconvenience of his condition, he went to join the family in the den.  Everyone was very happy to see him.  After he got comfortable on the couch, the boys climbed up and sat beside him.  He started to feel better about things.
        Later that night, Linda went back to Matt's and Mike's room and knocked on the door, which was partially ajar.  Matt looked up from his desk, where he was sitting in his gym shorts, studying.
        "Hey, Linda."
        "Hi, Matt.  Did you or Mike have a talk with Chris tonight?" she asked.
        "Yeah.  I did.  Why?"
        "You're some kind of miracle worker, that's all."
        "Whaddaya mean?"
        "He's done a total 180 as far as his spirits are concerned.  He even apologized to me for being so down lately.  Whatever you said, patent it and sell it, Matt.  It works."
        Matt got a big smile on his face.  "Chris is a tough guy.  He's gonna be fine.  Thanks for telling me, Linda."
        *  *  *
        Clad in his usual U Penn baseball cap and athletic jacket, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, Jeff bounded up the stairs to the coach house after his usual two hour, early afternoon workout at the gym.  His wife beater was soaked with sweat under his jacket.  His eyes and skin were glowing.  He was the epitome of the healthy young jock, a real eye magnet.
        Sometimes he resented the time commitment he had made to maintaining and improving his physical fitness, but the reality was that his training program had some of the qualities of an addiction by now.  Although occasionally he had to force himself to go to the gym when he was feeling lazy, once he was there, he loved it.  He couldn't stop.  But it sure puts a big hole in the day, he often thought to himself.
        Opening the door of the coach house and entering the hall, he glanced into their little living room and saw Martha sitting on the couch, studying.
        He detoured from his intended route back to his bedroom, and throwing his duffel bag down along with his jacket, went in and sat down beside her.
        "Hey, sis.  'Sup?"
        "Chemistry, unfortunately.  It sucks bigtime.  Not my favorite subject, I can tell you that!  I'm really sick of it!"
        Jeff chuckled.  "Yeah, I know.  But think of all the little animals who will be happy you know all the chemicals to get 'em high.  They'll give you lots of kisses.  Heh."
        "Uh huh.  Well, I'll take 'em.  Why are you in such a good mood?"
        "I'm just thinking about Christmas.  Matt and Mike promised Mom and Dad at Thanksgiving that they'd come home this year.  Should be fun.  The only thing is, I won't get to see Andie.  So I was thinking about going over to Chicago to see her after Christmas, before school starts again."
        "That sounds like an excellent idea!" Martha said.  "You're flying, I hope."
        "I hadn't thought that far ahead yet.  But that's prolly the only way I can make it work.  I just don't wanna get any flack from Dad about my credit card bill, that's all."
        "Well, if you drove, you'd no sooner get to Chicago than you'd hafta turn around and come back."
        "Yeah, I know," Jeff said.
        "Fares are cheap right now.  You can fly cheaper than you can drive, probably.  Anyway, you can put the airline charges on my card if you want to.  Dad never says anything to me."
        "I know it."  Jeff grimaced.  "And that really pisses me off.  Just because you're 'the daughter,' you can do no wrong."
        "Hey, there hafta be some advantages to being the baby girl in the family, y'know."
        "I won't even touch that issue.  If I fly to Chicago from home after Christmas, will you drive my truck back to school?"
        "Yes," Martha agreed.
        "Cool!  All right, let me take a shower, and then let's call Matt and Mike and find out about their plans.  And Andie, of course."  Jeff got a big smile on his face.
        "You've got it bad for her, doncha?" Martha asked..
        "You noticed."
        "I'd have to be blind to miss it."  Martha shoved her brother good naturedly on the shoulder.  "Hurry up and shower, you stink."
        "Doncha love it?" Jeff asked as he stood up and headed for the bathroom.
        "Get over yourself!" Martha laughed.
        Twenty minutes later Jeff ambled back into the living room all cleaned up, portable phone in hand, and dropped down on the couch.  Martha picked up the living room phone on the table next to her, and speed dialed the condo in Chicago.  Jeff turned on his phone and put it to his ear.
        "One ringy dingy, two ringy dingies..." Jeff started counting.  Martha smiled.  The kid was irrepressible.
        A strange voice finally answered after the fourth ring.
        "Hello?"
        "Hi," Martha said.  "Who's this?"
        "This is Chris.  Chris Russo."
        "Hi, Chris," Martha answered, a little surprised.  "This is Martha Broman.  Jeff's on with me, too."
        "Hey, Chris.  How goes it, dude?" Jeff interjected.
        "Not bad," Chris lied.  "How are you guys?"
        "Bored with school and lonesome for the wonderful people of Chicago," Jeff said.  "Is Matt or Mike there?"
        "No, both of 'em are still at school," the young cop said.  "They're still playing catch-up from taking time off for their honeymoon.  Do you want me to have 'em call you when they get in?"
        "Yeah, we should probably talk to them," Martha said.  "Just tell 'em Jeff and I were wondering about their Christmas plans.  I know they're coming to Pennsylvania.  We just wondered what their time schedule is."
        "Cool.  I'll have 'em get back to you."
        "Thanks, Chris," Jeff said.  "Laters."
        "Hey, guys?" Chris said just before they broke the connection.
        "Yes?" Martha asked.
        "Maybe it's not my place to tell you this, but it's such good news...Mary got a clean bill of health from the doc.  She's cancer-free."
        "ALL RIGHT!!" Jeff yelled.
        "I'm so glad!!  That's awesome!" Martha said.  "Is she there?"
        "No, she went grocery shopping.  She should be back in a few, though," Chris said.
        "You give her our love, ' K, Chris?" Jeff said.  "Tell her we're looking forward to seeing her at home."
        "Will do," Chris said.  "See ya then."
        They broke the connection, still smiling about the good news, and Jeff high-fived his sister.
        Martha looked at Jeff.  "'See ya then?'  Is that what he said?  Is Chris living at the condo?  Is he coming to Mom's and Dad's for Christmas?"
        "I dunno.  You'll hafta call Miss Cloe if ya want all the answers, Mart.  What I do know is, this 'family' just keeps getting bigger, but not by the usual methods.  I mean, I'm sure there's a lot screwing going on for some, but I'm sure as hell not doing my share."
        "You're gross!" Martha said, laughing.  "And you have a one-track mind!"
        "Uh huh.  You gonna make the reservations to Chicago for me?" Jeff asked.
        "Yes, I'll do it."
        "Ya gonna get a limo to meet me?"
        "Never!" Martha said emphatically.
        "Come on.  Since it's on your credit card, Dad won't care."
        Martha capitulated.  "Oh, all right.  Consider it part of your Christmas present."
        "Way!  To!  Go!  I like you!"
        "You should.  What are ya gonna do for me in return?"  Martha asked.
        "Hmmm.  I'll fix supper tonight."
        "You'll burn supper, you mean.  What's on the menu?"
        "It'll be a surprise, let's just leave it at that," Jeff said with a grin.  "I gotta call Andie now."
        "Go ahead."
        "Not in front of you.  No way.  I'll be in my bedroom.  No listening in on the phone, either!  I don't want you knowing all our secrets."
        "Your secrets don't require all that much imagination, buddy," Martha said, laughing.  "And don't be hangin' on the phone all afternoon if you want me to make your reservations."
        "I won't.  I gotta study," he said.
        "Tell Andie 'hi' from me,' she told him.
        Martha watched Jeff fondly as he stood up and went to his room.  He was pure stud muffin.  Entirely too cute for his own good, he was just one of those people who unselfconsciously "filled his space" completely without making others around him feel he was stepping on their toes in any way.  He was also the kind of person you enjoyed doing things for, not because he demanded it or expected it, but because he appreciated it so much.  It was impossible not to love the boy, even if you were his sister.  The beauty of it was that Jeff wasn't stuck on himself at all.
        *  *  *
        Josh Harkness, Chris' state trooper friend that Matt and Mike had met at the hospital the night Chris had been shot, had finally called.  Mike had invited him to dinner two nights before the family was set to fly to Pennsylvania.
        "Josh, you do know that Chris is staying with us, right?" Mike had asked him.  "That's not a problem, is it?  I mean, his knowing you're coming here?"
        "No, not at all," Josh said.  "I'm way overdue for a visit to see him, anyway.  I've kind of put it off until he'd be feeling better.  Maybe after I bring him up to speed on what's going on at work and stuff, though, Matt and you and I could talk privately at some point."
        "That'll be fine."
        "That is, if you guys are sure you can spare the time."
        "No problem.  We'll see you Wednesday night.  Anytime after 6.  Matt and I are never later than that, and we usually eat early because of the kids.  It's casual.  Levi's and T's.  Bring some swimming trunks if you like to swim."
        " 'K.  Thanks, Mike.  See ya."
        Josh showed up right on time on Wednesday, freshly off duty and still in his state trooper's uniform, and parked his squad car in front of the condo.  Mike greeted him when he stepped off the elevator on the penthouse floor, and the young cop looked handsome and healthy.  Under one arm he had a pair of swimming trunks, as Mike had suggested.  When they went into the den, there was Chris with a big grin on his face, sitting in his robe on the couch with his broken leg up on the coffee table.  The three kids, along with Mary, Linda and Stan, were sitting with him.  Josh bent down and shook hands with Chris, who then introduced him to the adults and the boys.  The kids were impressed with Josh's uniform and immediately started grilling him about his job, brash little creatures that they were.  No one was a stranger for long with them.
        Matt came in a minute later from setting the dining room table for dinner.  He and Josh shook hands.
        "Hey, Josh!  Glad you could make it.  You're lookin' pretty spif for this bunch," he said, checking out the trooper uniform.  "As long as you're wearing your badge, though, put Mike under arrest."
        "What's the charge?" Josh asked.
        "Lewd and lascivious joke telling while engaging in unlawful restraint of partner," Matt said.  "There's gotta be a law against that on the books somewhere."
        Mike just shook his head as Josh laughed.  "Probably," Josh said.  "Anyway, I'm sorry I'm still in uniform.  I got off work a little late, so I didn't have time to get back to the station and change.  I brought swimming trunks, though," he said, waving them in the air.
        "Good.  Mike, Josh is about your size," Matt suggested.  "Why don't you give him a pair of Levi's and a T-shirt so he's more comfortable?  Dinner should be ready in about 20 minutes."
        "Good idea," Mike agreed.  "Common, Josh."  He led the way back to his and Matt's bedroom, where he pulled a pair of jeans and a T-shirt out of his dresser, gave them to Josh, and then left him to change.
        When dinner was ready, everybody gathered in the dining room, including Chris for the first time since he'd come to stay in the condo.  They all held hands around the table as Mary returned thanks, and then they sat down to a mammoth tureen of beef and vegetable stew, accompanied by a green salad and garlic bread, courtesy of Chef Matt.  The adults all drank red table wine, the kids, milk.  Conversation was lively, as usual, and at one point Chris explained to the family that he and Josh had been friends all through middle school and high school, when Josh and he played on the football team.  They had then both attended the U of I, and were roommates the last three out of the four years there, after which they both went to the police academy together to become career law enforcement officers.  They were best friends.
        "My compliments to the chef," Mike said, looking at his partner as they finished eating.  "Would you believe that this guy has never had a cooking lesson, other than watching me prepare fine cuisine?" he asked Josh.
        "I don't know who taught whom, but it sure was good!" Stan said.
        "Stanley, you are so freaking literate these days, dude, I don't know what to say," Matt interjected.  " '...who taught whom.'  Wow!"
        "It's because you and Mike set such high standards for grammatical purity," Stan shot back.  "Following your example is almost mandatory."
        "This is all Mike's fault," Matt said.  "He encouraged you to go to college.  And now look what's happened.  Pretty soon we won't have enough smarts to communicate with you at all!"
        "You have to share the blame on that one, Matt," Stan said.  "Actually, you were the one who started to push my buttons about an illustrious college career, you dufus.  I cain talk real good now when I wanna.  Duh!  Ain't it true, woman?" he asked Linda.
        "Don't get me involved in your little games," Linda responded.  "Nurses are neutral, right, Mary?"
        "Absolutely!  We never know whom we're going to have to care for next," Mary agreed, to general laughter.
        Chris and Josh sat there in amusement listening to the banter.
        When supper was over, Stan cleared the table and filled the dishwasher while Matt, Mike and Josh went into the living room and pulled three comfortable chairs together.  Snow crystals were beating loudly against the big windows facing the lake, and it was a good night to be inside.  Before they got down to talking, Mike walked back to the doors between the den and the living room and asked Linda if she'd light the den fireplace.  Then he shut the doors between the two rooms for privacy, and came back and settled into his chair.
        "Thanks for supper, guys.  I've really enjoyed this evening," Josh said.
        "We're glad you could come over, and it's not over yet," Matt said.  "The pool awaits.  Anyway, we didn't know how close you and Chris are or we would have made sure you got up here before now to help keep Chris' spirits up."
        "How's he doing?" Josh asked.  "He seems very upbeat."
        "He's doing fine," Mike said, not wanting to get too much into Chris' problems.  Chris could tell Josh whatever he wanted him to know.
        "Knowing Chris, you guys have made a friend for life," Josh said.  "He never forgets people who do him a good turn."
        "We're glad he's here," Matt said.  "And the kids love him.  They spend hours in his room, just talking.  That's really good, 'cause Mike and I are sometimes too much under the gun to spend as much time with the boys as we'd like."
        "I know you're busy," Josh said, "so let me tell you why I wanted to talk to you."  Josh paused, swallowing hard.
        "The weekend before Chris was shot," he continued, "he and I went out to hit a few bars and talk about old times.  I ended up getting pretty toasted, and in the midst of talking about some personal shit, I told him something that I never would have under normal circumstances.  I admitted to him that I think I'm gay."  Josh's handsome face reddened, and he looked down at the floor.
        Matt and Mike were silent, waiting for him to go on.
        "Surprisingly, I didn't get the reaction from him I would have expected," Josh said.  "We were both pretty macho guys in high school and college, and we were both pretty homophobic, to be truthful.  Or at least we talked a good game.  But when I came out to him in the bar, Chris didn't punch me out or look horrified or disapproving or anything like that.  He just sat there calmly, looking at me, drinking his beer.  I told him I was surprised he didn't just deck me or push me away, end our friendship, and stomp out of the bar.
        "He said that a few months ago he might have done just that, but that he had recently met two young guys who were domestic partners raising three little kids, nice guys who looked and acted perfectly normal and were good athletes.  He said one of them had been stabbed when he was running on the beach, and that when he'd been undercover he'd stumbled into a bunch of guys--your basic skinhead type--who had murdered one gay man outside a bar on Halsted Street and whose leader had done the beach stabbing.  Chris did his part to get those assholes off the street, as you know.  He said that Captain Angelo of the Chicago PD had introduced him to you two, and that he'd subsequently attended your wedding and been at your reception afterward here at your condo.  Chris told me that as a result of meeting you and getting to know you, he's had to rethink his attitude toward gays.  He said he wanted me to talk to you guys before I came out to anybody else, if that's what I had in mind to do.  I thought it was a good idea, and that's why I'm here.  I'm totally confused about my situation at this point, to be honest with you."
        Mike reached over and bumped fists with Josh, followed by Matt.
        "Josh," Matt said, "I want to tell you right up front that whatever you tell us is confidential as far as we're concerned.  Nothing you say to us will be shared with Chris or anybody else.  You can tell him what you want to tell him later about our conversation, but Chris won't hear anything from us."
        Josh nodded.
        "You also need to be aware that Mike and I would be the last to claim we're experts about what it means to be gay," Matt continued.  "I don't know how typical we are.  We may not be typical in a lot of ways, to be truthful.  We certainly aren't formally trained when it comes to issues of sexual orientation, although Mike may have picked up some information in his medical training, I don't know.  But what we can do is talk to you about our experiences in coping with people's reactions to us because we're gay, if you think that would be helpful.  I know we would have appreciated talking over our issues with someone before we came out, but there wasn't anyone available."
        "Well, hearing you out can't hurt, and it will probably help me," Josh said.
        "I understand that coming out to Matt and me, even knowing we're both gay, wasn't easy for you, Josh," Mike said.  "A lot of gay people live for years, sometimes a whole lifetime, in public denial about their orientation.  A few can't even admit it to themselves.  So opening up about it, especially when you're sober"--Mike smiled--"isn't a walk in the park, particularly with strangers.  Those first steps in coming out of hiding can be pretty uncomfortable, and I speak from personal experience.  Some people never take that step, and that's certainly their decision to make.  Nobody has a right to knowledge about another person's sexual orientation, and a gay person isn't obligated to come out to just everybody he or she knows, either.  Anyway, Matt and I admire you for sitting down and talking to us.  The reason it's important to wrestle with this issue is that the big secrets in our lives get harder and harder to keep as we get older.  Eventually it takes so much energy to hide what we are that we don't, we can't, accomplish what we'd like to in life.  And most of the basic joy and pleasure we should be experiencing in the course of living just withers away.  So, it's important to understand that there's a price to be paid when we remain silent."  Mike paused.  "By the way, you do know that somewhere deep down inside, you wanted to tell Chris you're gay, don't you?  You can't blame it all on the alcohol.."
        "I hadn't thought about it that way," Josh said.
        "Anyway, sometimes secrets can be bad for us," Matt chimed in, "but Chris gave you good advice when he asked you to talk to us before you start spreading around the information you're gay.  Right off the top of my head, you need to be clear in your mind about a few things before you decide to come out.  It's not something you want to barge into, because once you're out, you can't take it back.  So, first question:  are you really gay, and how do you know?  Second, if you are gay, how do you feel about your orientation?  Third, if you come out, how much support do you think you can count on from people who currently know you and care about you as a straight person? And finally, if the answer to that last question is 'zero' support or close to it, are you really prepared to start your journey alone?  Does that kind of sum it up, Mike?"
        "Yep.  Is this making any sense to you, Josh?"
        "Yes."
        "Why don't we start with the first question," Matt suggested.  "How do you know you're gay?"
        "I've ben pretty sure since I was in high school," Josh said, "but I never let on to anyone.  You're the first people I've ever talked to about it in any detail.  Starting back in high school, whenever I fantasized about sex, it always involved a male, never a female.  I did my share of dating girls in high school and college, but I've never had sex with a woman, and I don't have any desire to.  Any dating I've done has always been a smoke screen.  I've always known I was faking it, and it's nothing to brag about.  I don't feel too good about it."
        "I had a lot of sex with girls my first two years in high school, and I didn't really know I was gay 'til I was a junior," Mike said.  "That's when I first had sex with another boy on high school swim team.  After that, any dating of girls was a smokescreen for me, too."
        "I didn't know I was gay until the end of our freshman year in college, when Mike forced me to have sex with him repeatedly," Matt said with a grin.  "I've been his sex slave ever since."
        Josh got a distressed look on his face.
        Matt saw his expression.  "Oh, man, Josh, I'm truly sorry!  I forgot you don't know about our weird sense of humor.  I was kidding!  Our sex was totally consensual then and always has been.  Please don't infer from my joking around that I'm not taking this conversation seriously!  I am."
        "Jeez, Matt!  You dweeb!" Mike said, frowning.
        "You took me by surprise, that's all," Josh said, obviously relieved.
        "Josh, have you ever had sex with a man?" Mike asked.
        Josh blushed.  "No."
        "There's no shame in having abstained," Mike said.  "Are you in love with anyone in particular?"
        "Yes, I am."  Josh's face turned a deeper shade of red, if that was possible.
        "We don't have to go there if it makes you uncomfortable," Mike assured him.
        Josh sighed.  "Well, you know my biggest secret, so you may as well know my second biggest.  I'm in love with Chris.  I have been since the first time I ever laid eyes on him back in middle school."
        Matt looked surprised.  Mike didn't.
        "Does he know?" Matt asked.
        "I don't think so.  I sure as hell hope not," Josh said.  "He's straight as a die."
        "We assumed he was, but we didn't know for sure," Matt said.
        "All right then, " Mike said, "let's proceed on the basis that you are in fact gay, Josh.  How do you feel about that?"
        "Well, don't take offense, but I absolutely hate the idea that I'm gay.  It's really hard for me to accept, even though I know there's no way of changing a person's  orientation.  At least not that I know of, and I've done quite a bit of reading about homosexuality."
        "In general, do you like yourself, Josh?"  Mike watched the young cop's face intently.
        "Yes, most of the time I do.  But I hate myself when I have fantasies about Chris.  Chris is my friend, for God's sake.  I shouldn't be thinking about him in a sexual context, but I can't stop it.  I've never been able to.  And I find myself checking out other guys in the locker room all the time.   Then I feel ashamed of myself."
        "Why do you hate the idea of being gay so much, do you think?" Matt asked.  "Is your aversion to it based on your religious beliefs, or what?"
        "Partly.  I'm Roman Catholic, like Chris, and you know how strong the church's views on homosexuality are.  Don't laugh, but I want to be a good person.  In addition to that, it's always been important to me to be 'one of the guys.'  Everybody I know, especially those I work with, think that's exactly what I am.  I hate like hell giving that up.  It's part of who I am, or at least part of who I'd like to be."
        "I know exactly what you're talking about," Matt said.  "If I hadn't fallen totally in love with Mike, I not sure I ever would have come out.  There's obviously more social support for the role of the heterosexual male than the gay male.  You're 'one of the guys' if you're dating a woman or partnered with a woman, and you're certainly not viewed that way if you're in a gay partnership.
        "You probably don't know this," Matt continued, "but I broke up with Mike at one point and married a wonderful woman named Sarah.  I loved her deeply, and we had children--two of the three boys you met tonight were ours, and the third boy was her brother's son that Mike and I adopted.  But I have to tell you, the same level of passion wasn't there with my wife that I've always had with Mike, due to no fault of hers.  And I know from experience that the great stimulus of living with Mike and loving Mike comes from the fact that he's male.  Very male.  Very masculine.  He excites me every time I see him, sexually and every other way, and that's how I know I'm gay.  By the way, if you're wondering what I'm doing sitting here with Mike instead of with my wife, Sarah died in childbirth, and after a year I worked up enough courage to ask Mike to take me back.  He forgave me for what I had done, and took me back, even though I had hurt him terribly.
        "The point I'm trying to make is, unless you're resolved for some reason to be celibate, you can't deny your sexual attractions.  That's true no matter what your orientation is.  The more powerful your sexual attractions are, particularly if you're free from obligations to other people that would prevent it, the more you should pay attention to those attractions and respond to them.  God made you and gave you those attractions, and 'He hates nothing He has made,' to quote Scripture."
        "Why don't we come back to your negative feelings about the gay orientation later," Mike suggested.  "I think that's going to require some work on your part.  I guess the next question is, if you're able to resolve your feelings about being gay and you come out, how much support do you think you can count on from those who mean the most to you?  I understand that no one can know for sure what the reaction of those close to us will be until they're faced with the issue.  But do you think your parents, for example, and your siblings, if you have any, be able to accept you and emotionally support you as a gay man?"
        Josh groaned.  "I honestly don't know for sure.  I've never heard my parents talk disparagingly about homosexuals, but I don't know what they really think about it, either.  It's never come up.  I have two older brothers, and I doubt if they'd be thrilled to hear that their kid brother is queer."
        "What about the people you work with?" Matt asked.
        "I don't even want to think about that," Josh said.  "Cops tend not to be the most open minded people in the world."
        "Well, you're going to have to think about it," Mike said.  "I know it's painful, and it's going continue to be painful, but you're going to have to think about everybody who will be affected by your coming out.  You need to determine as best you can who's likely to support you and who's going to reject you before you make your decision.  Unless, of course, you know in your heart that you're strong enough to make a go of your new public orientation pretty much alone, at least at the beginning."
        Josh sat in silence, looking at Matt and Mike, slumped in his chair.
        
Part 3

        Usually only the pre-schoolers were dismissed that early in the day, but by the time Stan arrived, all the grades at St. Stephen's School had been released to give the kids a good start on the Christmas holidays.  When he pulled up in the car to pick up Matthew, Michael and Kyle, he noticed a big crowd of older kids circled around something or other going on at one side of the school's front entrance.  The three Broman boys were not standing in their usual spot for their ride, so he shut off the motor and stepped out of the car.  He didn't see any adult supervision anywhere.  Strolling over to the school entrance, he walked up a few steps for a better vantage point to see what all the screaming and shouting was about.
        What he saw put him into an instant rage.  Two seventh or eighth grade boys, fairly big kids, had the three Broman boys pinned up against the wall, where they were being screamed and shouted at and pushed around.  The three little guys weren't crying or cowering.  Far from it.  Scowling, they were punching and kicking their much bigger tormentors for all they were worth, and had given one of the big kids a nosebleed.  Stan vaulted over the stone balustrade and down into the crowd.
        "MOVE IT!!" he bellowed as he waded through the massed children.  At the sound of an adult male voice, things quieted down pretty fast, and the throng parted like the Red Sea for Moses.
        Reaching the center of action, Stan kept his emotions under tight control as he faced the two offenders.
        "Did you ever hear of picking on somebody your own size?" he demanded of the two big kids.  "What's going on here, anyway?"
        "Nothing," the kid with the bloody nose mumbled, holding a handkerchief to his face.  Both boys stared down at their shoes so they wouldn't have to look at Stan.
        "This isn't 'nothing,'" Stan said, his eyes focused on the malefactors after a quick glance told him Matthew, Michael and Kyle were all right.  "Is beating up on pre-schoolers your idea of a big thrill?  Do you feel good about it?  Who started this, and why?"
        When the perpetrators didn't answer, Stan eyed another big boy farther back in the crowd and beckoned to him.
        "You!!  Commere!"
        The kid didn't look too happy about it, but he wedged his way through the children to the front of the crowd, and faced Stan.
        "Tell me what's going on here," Stan ordered.
        "They were kidding them a little about having two dads and no mom, that's all," the boy said.
        "You call this 'kidding?'  And so what if they have two dads?" Stan demanded.
        "Their dads are fags," the boy mumbled.
        "You don't even know what that is!  Do you!?"
        "Well..." the boy stopped talking and looked at the ground.
        Stan stared in frustration at the crowd of children.
        "All right," he said loudly, "break it up and get on home--RIGHT NOW!!"  He swung around to confront the perpetrators.  "And you two--this isn't over for you!" he told them.  "I'll be seeing you in the principal's office right after the Christmas holidays.  You don't know what a terrible thing you've done, but you will before I'm finished with you.  Now, get going!"
        Still not looking Stan in the eye, the two bullies slunk off as the crowd began dissipating.  He resisted the temptation to kick them both in the ass as they walked away, knowing it wouldn't be the right thing to do.  He knelt down to look at the little boys.  The pressure off, now all three of the boys were crying.
        "You did good, guys!" Stan told them, wiping their faces with his handkerchief and hugging them.  "I'm really proud of you!  Common, let's go home."
        Stan shepherded the boys to the car, put them inside and buckled them into the back seat.  He tried to reassure them on the way home that everything was going to be all right, all the time feeling a cold anger in him that constricted his chest and wouldn't go away.
        After they arrived home, Stan took Mary aside and briefly filled her in on what had happened at the school.  Then he decided to let the boys do what they liked best--swim and play in the pool.  After the boys first said hello to their buddy Chris, Stan and the kids put on their suits and went up to the pool deck, and soon the beach balls were flying around in the water.  The kids were bouncing back a lot faster than Stan was from the trauma at St. Stephen's school.
        Matt arrived home in about an hour, and was surprised when Mary told him that Stan and the boys were swimming earlier than usual.  "Why so early?" he asked.
        "Matt, I think something happened to the boys at school today," she said, looking unhappy.  "I'll let Stan tell you about it."
        Apprehensive, Matt put his book bag down and sprinted up the stairs to the pool.  Stan and the boys were having a good time nailing one another with the beach balls.
        "DAD!" Michael yelled.  "Get your swimsuit on, will ya?"
        "Maybe a little later, guys," Matt said, and motioned Stan over to the side of the pool as the boys continued playing.  Stan heaved himself out of the water on to the pool deck and reluctantly stood and faced Matt.
        "Stan, Mary said something happened at school today.  'Sup?" Matt asked.
        Stan told him what had happened, and Matt's expression turned grave.
        "Are the boys all right?" Matt asked.
        "Yeah.  You'd have been proud.  They were punching and kicking those jerks for all they were worth.  I think they landed some good punches, too.  They gave one kid a bloody nose.  And now they just seem to be totally cool about what happened."
        "You didn't lose it with any of the bad guys, did you?" Matt questioned.
        "No, but I wanted to," Stan said.  "I'm fucking pissed!  But I'm sick inside, too."
        "Whaddaya mean?"
        "Because both those little assholes are growing up to be the bully I was a few years ago. That's what I mean."
        Matt shook his head 'no,' and spontaneously drew Stan into a hug, wet body, wet swimsuit and all.  "That's not who you are now, buddy.  I love ya, and I'm so proud of you!" Mat said, looking his friend right in the eye.  "Let's talk about how to handle this whole thing when Mike gets home, 'K?"
        Stan nodded, and cannonballed back into the pool with the boys, where he immediately got a beachball in the face from Matthew for his trouble.
        Matt was chuckling at Stan's beachball misfortune as he went downstairs to the den to telephone the school.  As expected, he heard only a recording which said that St. Stephen's School was closed for the Christmas holidays, and that the office would open again on January 2 of the new year.  Then he dialed the church office, and asked for Father Howard.  The secretary connected him.
        "Matt!" David Howard answered.  "How are you?  We haven't had much chance to talk since you came back from your honeymoon."
        "I know it, Father.  I apologize for that.  I want to have you over for dinner as soon as we get back from Pennsylvania after Christmas."
        "I'll look forward to it," the young priest said.  "What else is going on?"
        "Well, there was some trouble at school today, and of course the school office is shut down for the holidays.  But I wanted to vent to someone, so I guess you're elected."
        "I'm all ears.  What happened?"
        "Stan went to pick up the boys when pre-school was over today, and I guess all the classes were dismissed early for the holidays.  Anyway, a couple of seventh or eighth graders had Matthew, Michael and Kyle up against the wall of the building giving them shit because they have two dads and no mom.  There was some pushing and shoving involved, and my boys landed a few punches of their own.  Stan says another kid, a bystander, told him the harassment started because Mike and I are, quote, 'fags.'  The kid didn't know what that meant, or claimed not to, anyway.  Naturally, I'm concerned.  When school starts again, I think we need to talk with the principal and the teachers about what happened and nip stuff like this in the bud," Matt said.  "By the way; there was no adult supervision today in front of the school, according to Stan."
        "The whole thing's appalling, Matt!!" David Howard said, sounding disgusted.  "I'm behind you one hundred percent.  It's totally unacceptable, and it's definitely contrary to everything St. Stephen's stands for.  Do you want me to talk to Father Rohm about it?"
        "I don't think so, at this point.  If the principal can't be persuaded to take some action after we talk to him, you'll both be dragged into it anyway.  So let Father have Christmas with one less worry."
        "All right, if you're sure," Father Howard said.  "We will address it and take action, though.  It's as important for the perpetrators as it is for your family that we confront this head-on.  I read some statistics the other day about bullying.  According to longitudinal studies carried out in Canada, bullies have a high prevalence for alcoholism, drug abuse, mental illness and incarceration.  I'm not making this up.  We need to identify these kids and intervene.  And we will.  Besides, incidents such as this poison the whole learning atmosphere in a school.  We're just not going to have it, that's all!  This may be the opportune time to inaugurate an anti-bullying curriculum at St. Stephen's.  I understand there are some good ones out there."
        "I knew I'd feel better if I talked to you, David.  Thank you.  Now, to change the subject, what are your plans for Christmas?"
        "Masses and hearing confessions, and then more masses and confessions.  That's about it.  I'm looking forward to it, really.  Next to Easter, there's no more meaningful season for any of us.  It's wonderful.  And I have to go to Indianapolis for a day to drop off Christmas gifts to my parents and visit with them."
        "Are you and your parents close?" Matt asked.
        "No, not really.  They're Bible thumping extremists, and they detest the fact that I'm a priest.  That tends to put a damper on any pleasant conversation."
        "Yeah, I'll bet.  Do you have any vacation time coming?" Matt asked.
        "Well, a few days, I guess.  Why?"
        "Mike and I are taking everybody in the condo to Pennsylvania with us for Christmas.  We'd promised Mom and Dad we would come home if they spent Thanksgiving week with us in Chicago before our wedding.  It just occurred to me that if you can get the time off, why don't you fly over and spend at least some of the holidays with us?  There's plenty of room, and you know Mom and Dad would love to see you.  We can pick you up at the airport once you get there, no sweat."
        "What a great invitation, Matt!  Let me talk to Father Rohm, and if he says I can have some time off after Christmas Day, I just may take you up on it.  Thanks so much!"
        "Call me back and tell me you're coming, will ya?  This'll be great!  And the trip will be on us."
        "I can't let you do that.  I can afford it," the priest said.
        "I know.  But we're paying for everybody else to go, so it's only fair that we pick up the tab for you.  So, no arguments, please.  You'd force me to say some bad words, and then I'd have to head for the confessional, and none of you priests has enough time to hear my confession."
        "You're a very funny man, Matt.  I'll get back to you.  Thanks."  The priest wrote down the Bromans' Pennsylvania phone number as Matt gave it to him.
        They broke the connection just as Mike walked into the den, and Matt told him about the dust-up at St. Stephen's School.  Mike was not pleased to hear the news.
        Later that night, when Matt and Mike talked with the boys about what had happened at school, the little guys seemed singularly unperturbed by it.  Kyle even reminded his dads of their talk with them before they started school, about their family and how it was different from many families.  Matt and Mike were relieved that the kids did not seem upset about what had occurred, but were determined to make sure they stayed in close touch with the boys' feelings about the situation at school as events unfolded.  They were resolved that the boys would not become victims.
        "Guys, how would you like to start some self-defense classes after Christmas?" Matt asked.  "You know, learn some moves you can use to protect yourselves when there's trouble?"
        "Like Kung-fu?" Michael asked.
        "Yeah, something like that," Matt said.
        The kids' eyes lighted up, and they agreed they would like to do that.  Matt made a mental note to do some research on what might be the best classes for them to take at their age.  After the boys said their prayers, Matt and Mike kissed them goodnight and left them to drift off to sleep.
        *  *  *
        Andie Parker had been delighted when Mike had telephoned to invite her to fly to Pennsylvania with the family for Christmas.  Her own parents were traveling to Seattle to celebrate the holidays with Andie's sister, her sister's husband and their two children.  Of course Andie had been invited to accompany her mother and father to the West Coast.  But she had already planned to stay in Chicago because Jeff had told her he was coming there as soon as he could gracefully get away from home after Christmas Day.  She acceded to Mike's request not to tell Jeff that instead she would be coming to spend the entire holiday with his family.  As far as Matt's and Mike's little secret about taking her home to Pennsylvania with them was concerned, she felt it was time Jeff, the Merry Prankster, got back a little of his own.  She couldn't wait to see his face when she stepped out of the car at the Bromans'.
        Andie was a very rational young woman, with a cool, dispassionate, scientific mind.  Not for nothing was she an honors student in physics at Northwestern.  The last thing she had expected to do was to fall in love with a Summer lifeguard at Chicago's Oak Street Beach, even if he was a hunk.  Make that, especially if he was a hunk.  She had known too many handsome males with empty heads.  So no one had been more surprised than she when she realized what her true feelings for Jeff had become.  They weren't complicated at all.  She loved him through and through, and she knew it.  Andie was not one to give her heart easily, but she had fallen, and she had fallen hard.  In her eyes, Jeff was intelligent, educated, good-natured and resilient, loving, funny, hard working, handsome and very tender-hearted, the latter most certainly not a quality she associated with most of the jocks she knew.  There was a pervasive goodness and kindness to him despite his fondness for jokes and pranks.  That latter aspect of his personality seemed to run in the family.
        Family was definitely a big thing for Jeff.  His loyalty to and love for his family, both blood and extended, were a basic fact of life for him.  In the time she had known him, Andie had learned a lot about what family life was supposed to be like from the Chicago Bromans, things she had never learned growing up in her own prominent, North Shore family.  It wasn't that she came from a bad family or an unloving family, but in her family, when unpleasant or difficult matters came up, the members just disengaged until the subject under discussion went away.  The Bromans, however, were always so incredibly engaged with one another, usually in a very positive way.  There was no smothering going on in their familial relationships, and sometimes there were spirited disagreements.  But theirs was a world of engagement, commitment and contentment.    Andie sensed that the Broman family relationships would endure no matter what the future challenges to them might be.  She was learning firsthand how that familial glue--unabashed and frequently articulated love for one another--did its job so effectively.
        When Jeff had first told her that his older brother and his adoptive brother were gay and in a relationship, she had frankly expected to be, well, a little underwhelmed by them.  She was no bigot about sexual orientation, and like many well educated individuals, was committed to full civil rights for homosexuals.  But the nuts and bolts of a gay partnership were completely foreign to her life experience.  She had admitted to herself later that she had harbored more than a few stereotypes about gay men.  She wasn't deeply offended by the idea of gays living openly in a sexual relationship, but she had not been prepared to find much positive in it, either.  That began to change as she began meeting the condo family, beginning with the very hetero Stan Rosinski and his fiancée' Linda Kosco, and she started to get a sense of Matt and Mike as they talked about them.  And after she met Matt and Mike in person and had been exposed to their love for one another, for their children, for their family, and seen how they conducted themselves around each other and everyone they knew, her preconceptions vanished quickly.  In a very short time, she came to care deeply for them and their three boys, along with all the residents who lived in the sprawling condo on Sheridan Road.  She was certain that those feelings would never change no matter what Jeff's and her future together might hold.
        The decision that Andie and Jeff had mutually made to enter into a sexual relationship had not been taken lightly.  Of the two of them, Jeff had been the more cautious about not taking their relationship to a new level until it was clear to both of them that this was much more than a quick, if satisfying, Summer fling.  When Jeff had told Matt that he and Andie were going to be intimate, and Matt and Mike had offered them a beautiful dinner and evening at the condo so that everything would be nice for them on their first night together, Andie had been deeply touched and very grateful.  Jeff's and her lovemaking had been special, as Andie had known it would be.  When Andie thought about Jeff and all his wonderful qualities, she had to add to the list that he was incredibly good in bed.  He was very passionate, but also very gentle, very giving, very caring, very skillful in the art of making love.  Thinking about that aspect of their relationship invariably brought a smile to her face.  There had been no "morning after" regrets for either of them.
        At any rate, when Jeff had telephoned to tell her when he would be flying into Chicago after Christmas, she had pretended to welcome the news as if it were really going to happen.  When she talked to Martha briefly during their call, Andie laid out the real plan and asked her to cancel Jeff's airplane and limo reservations.  Martha got a good laugh out of Matt's and Mike's chicanery, and promised to take care of it.  Jeff didn't have a clue.
        Andie knew this was going to be a wonderful Christmas.  She didn't know how wonderful.
        *  *  *
        Two limousines packed with people, luggage and Christmas gifts knifed swiftly through the swirling snow on their way from the airport to Justice and Mrs. Broman's home.
        The huge lanterns at the sides of the Bromans' wrought iron front gates were gleaming through a veil of snow and early dusk by the time the Chicago contingent arrived at their destination.  Matt noticed as they entered the grounds that colored Christmas lights had been entwined in the ironwork at the crest of the gates, and then were strung as well along the top of the estate's surrounding brick wall for perhaps one hundred yards on either side of the gated entrance.  The trees along the mile-long, winding driveway to the house were also festooned with lights.  Matt smiled.  He hadn't seen this many Christmas decorations on the estate since he was a little boy.  Mom and Dad were obviously going all out to make this a Christmas to remember, he thought to himself.
        The limousines pulled up and stopped at the front door.  As usual, people surged out of the main door of the house when the cars stopped, surrounding them.  Car doors flew open and Matt's and Mike's extended family began to emerge from the limos, wreathed in smiles.  Matthew and Jane Broman began greeting everybody, paying special attention to their three little grandchildren as they came rocketing out of their car and into their grandparents' arms.  Mrs. Brighton, the housekeeper, hugged and kissed Matt and Mike and the boys, and even Branford, the very English butler, allowed himself the hint of a smile as the conversation surged and people milled about.  After seeking out a tree and relieving himself, Breakers danced around, barking and biting at the falling snow.
        Chris Russo sat in the open back door of the second car, crutches in hand, trying to take in the scene before him.  After meeting and warmly welcoming Carole Maggliozzi, Justice and Mrs. Broman went to Chris and gave him a special greeting, thanking him for coming to spend Christmas with them.  Mrs. Broman patted his face as Matt and Mike came over.  Handing Chris' crutches to Stan, they put Chris in a two-man carry to the front door so he wouldn't slip in the snow, which had started to accumulate and was now picking up in intensity.
        Smiling broadly, with Martha by his side, Jeff was still greeting everyone jovially when the last passenger stepped out of the second car, and he stood frozen in his tracks.  Andie gave him a little wave and a smile, and he felt as if his heart had stopped.  A few giant strides later, and he had picked Andie up off her feet and whirled her around and around.  The two of them laughed like lunatics as snow fell on their heads and faces, and they kissed.
        "Come on inside, everybody, before you catch a chill," Justice Broman finally said.  "Branford, will you help the drivers bring in the luggage?  Leave it in the front hall, and we'll sort it out later."
        "Very good, sir," Branford said.  He beckoned to some of his staff standing at the front door of the house as the limousine drivers popped the trunks of their cars and began unloading the suitcases and boxes of presents.  Soon everyone and everything was inside, and the limousines were retreating down the driveway.
        Those who had never been to the Broman estate before were stunned when they entered the house and saw the huge Christmas tree, ablaze with Christmas lights and standing two stories high, gleaming in the center of the immense, circular front hall, with a huge staircase to the second floor winding around the side and back walls as it ascended.
        "Wow!" Stan said, falling silent as he stood with his arm around Linda, leaning back to look up at the star on top of the tree.
        "You aren't kidding, wow!" Chris agreed, by now maneuvering about on his crutches.  "I'd forgotten they grew this big."
        Overhearing them, Justice Broman chuckled.  "This tree is right off the estate," he told them.  "There is a whole stand of them down by the river, and each time we harvest one, we plant two.  We have trees down there for the next hundred Christmases or longer."
        Once he had the luggage inside and piled neatly by the front door, Branford and his staff began divesting people of coats and jackets, hanging them in a hall closet.
        "Who's hungry?" Mrs. Broman asked the group.
        "We all are," Mike responded.  "We only had peanuts and soft drinks on the plane to keep body and soul together," he added.
        "Dinner's ready anytime you are," Jane Broman said.  "First, though, there's one bathroom on the left, and one on the right, for those who need them.  Then walk around the tree to the last door on the right, and that's the dining room.  We'll wait for everybody before we start eating."
        The crowd broke up to use the facilities.
        "Mrs. Brighton, will you be kind enough to tell the kitchen we'll serve in about 15 minutes?" Mrs. Broman said.
        "Of course."  Mrs. Brighton quickly counted heads, and went off to talk to the kitchen crew.
        "Mom, I'm going to take Breakers and Matt to the kitchen and feed them," Mike said to Mrs. Broman, hefting a can of dog food which he had just removed from his bag by the door.
        Matt groaned.  "See what I have to put up with?" he asked his mother.  "And some people think Mike's the abused one in this relationship!"
        Justice Broman grabbed Matt and hugged him, kissing his cheek.  "I'm almost feeling sorry for you," he said.  "I said almost."
        Soon everyone had gravitated to the dining room, where they stood and held hands around the table as Jeff said grace.

            "Father, we thank you for this opportunity to gather together with friends and family in anticipation of Your Son's birthday.  We are grateful for all Your blessings, Lord, in keeping safe those we love and bringing us all together.  We receive the food You have provided us with thanks, and ask that You make us always mindful of the needs of all Your children, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
            "Amen."

        When the diners were seated, Branford and Mrs. Brighton began moving around the large table with platters heaped high, from which the diners served themselves thick slices of well done roast pork, crispy at the edges.  Large bowls of sauerkraut, mashed potatoes, and platters of freshly sliced baked bread, still warm from the oven, were passed around the table.  Then Branford poured a fine, slightly chilled Riesling wine into the adults' wine glasses, and poured milk for the three children.
        As the food was still being served, Mrs. Broman stood up from her place at the foot of the table and went to where Chris was seated, his arm still in its cast.  Without a word she took his knife and fork and cut up the meat on his plate for him, and then returned to her place.  Matt, Mike and Jeff did the same for the boys.
        "Old habits die hard, huh, Mom?" Martha commented.  Jane Broman nodded and smiled.
        "Mom, when are Aunt Judy and Uncle Jack coming?" Matt asked.
        "They'll be here Christmas Eve," Mrs. Broman said.
        "What about Grandma?"
        "I don't think so.  But Jack and Judy are going to stop and see her, and if there's the remotest possibility that she's up to it, they'll bring her."
        "If she can't come, Matt and I want to drive over to see her sometime while we're here," Mike said.  "I brought a video of our wedding for her."
        "She'd love to see you boys," Mrs. Broman said.  "She asks about you all the time."
        The conversation moved on to other topics, and Matt took the opportunity to study his mom, sitting close at hand, and his dad, sitting farther away at the head of the table.  Both of them were aging gracefully, Matt thought, although his father's face had begun to record some of the stresses and strains of his work on the Supreme Court.
        He watched the two of them as they effortlessly talked and laughed with the people around the table, some of them near-strangers, and made them feel welcome and appreciated and, yes, loved.  Their gift was not merely skillful social lubrication.  His parents had "been there" time and time again for him, for Mike, for Jeff and Martha, when needed, and Matt understood that was what parents, or at least good parents, do.  But observing them now with their guests, Matt knew their hearts were big enough for everybody, that in a very real way their caring embraced everyone with whom they came in contact, all without making any social judgments.  That had always been their way.  In a flash, Matt was no longer seeing his parents through the prism of his childhood and youth, but as one adult sees others.  He was suddenly suffused with love for them, and tears came to his eyes.  He excused himself and went into the hall for a moment to wipe his face and compose himself, and then came back.
        After the main course was completed and the dinner plates were removed by the staff, a wonderful chocolate mousse was served for desert.  Everyone loved it.  As the last bites were consumed, Justice Broman stood and clinked his wine glass for attention.
        "On behalf of Mrs. Broman and me, I want to thank you all for coming to spend Christmas with us.  Because you're members of Mike's and Matt's family, you're  family to us, and we're delighted that you're here.  We look forward to getting to know you better during this wonderful holiday.  Please let us know if there is anything you need while you're here.  Now, those of you who are not too tired from your trip, please join us in the library for coffee or an after-dinner drink. Or both."
        Mr. Broman then briefly ducked into the kitchen to thank the staff for their hard work, as was his habit after one of their big dinners.
        The diners sated, they all adjourned to the library for their drink of choice.  It was a tight squeeze for so many people, so Matt and Mike and the boys sat on the floor near the fireplace in which a few logs blazed.  It had been a big day for Matthew, Michael and Kyle, and they began to nod off.  Chris looked tired as well.  Matt caught his mother's eye, and they walked out into the hall together.
        "Mom, thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing all this for Mike and me and for people you hardly know.  I can't tell you how grateful we are, and how wonderful it is to be home with you and Dad for Christmas."  He embraced her and kissed her.
        "Sweetheart, we love having a crowd for the holidays, you know that," Jane Broman said.  "It really is a joy to have everybody here."
        "Well, we appreciate it.  Listen, I think Mike and I need to bathe the boys and put them to bed a little early tonight.  And I was wondering if we could put Chris in Jeff's room across from ours, and move Jeff down into the old wing.  He won't care, and we like to be near Chris in case he needs anything at night."
        "That's fine, hon."  She didn't tell Matt that she knew perfectly well Jeff would much prefer to be in the old wing, down near Andie's room, anyway.
        Matt and his mom returned to the library, and Matt signaled Mike it was time to take the kids upstairs for their bath.  Mike asked Chris to hang in until they came back so they could carry him upstairs rather than letting him tackle the huge circular staircase on his own.  Matt beckoned to Jeff, and the two of them and Mike each took a boy and headed for the stairs.
        Matt smiled at Jeff as they climbed the stairs, the kids riding on the adults' shoulders.  "Mom says you can take the room assigned to Chris in the old wing, and he can take your room so he'll be near Mike and me during the night.  Is that OK with you?"
        Jeff grinned from ear to ear.  "Outstanding!  I owe ya bigtime for that, Matt.  Thanks."
        The three brothers stayed together as they bathed the little boys, heard their prayers, kissed them goodnight, and put them in their beds.
        "Remember, guys, Dad and I are in the room right next door if you need anything during the night," Mike told the kids.  The boys nodded, and their eyes began to close.
        Jeff, Mike and Matt returned to the library.  Chris saw them come in, and nodded to Matt.  He and Mike went over to him and made sure he got up on his good leg with his crutches well under him.
        "Justice Broman, Mrs. Broman, thank you so much for your hospitality.  I think I'm going to hit the bed early, if that's all right," the young policeman said.
        "Of course, Chris," Mrs. Broman said.  "We're so happy you're here.  Your room will be right across from Matt's and Mike's, in case you need anything during the night."
        "Thank you.  Good night, Aunt Carole.  Sleep tight.  Good night, everybody," Chris said.  Carole got up from where she was sitting and went over and hugged him and kissed him.  Then he crutched his way into the hall, trailed by Jeff, Stan, Mike and Matt and a chorus of good nights.
        "Why don't you let Jeff and me do the honors?" Stan asked Matt and Mike as they reached the bottom of the stairs.  "You old farts might be a little weak after a long trip like this."
        "Didn't I tell you an education would make Stan a wiseass?" Matt asked Mike, simultaneously slapping the back of Stan's head.  Stan had tried to duck but still got nailed, and grinned bigtime.
        Jeff and Stan picked Chris up under his legs with one arm and put their other arm around his back as he placed his own arms around their necks, and they started up the long, winding staircase, followed by Mike and Matt with the crutches.  Once at the top, Chris was set down gently on his good foot and took his crutches back.  Stan went back downstairs while Jeff went on to remove his bag and shaving kit from his room and take them down to his new bedroom in the old wing of the house.  When Jeff came back from his new room, he dropped off Chris's bag and went downstairs.  Mike opened Chris' suitcase on top of a low chest against one wall.
        Chris sat down for a moment on the side of his bed and looked at Matt and Mike.
        "I haven't had this much fun at Christmas for a long time, and we're barely here," he told them.  "I want to thank you both for bringing me and Aunt Carole with you, especially since I acted like such an asshole around the condo for quite awhile.  I want to apologize for that."
        "After what you've been through, you've handled yourself pretty well, bro," Mike said.  "I don't think any of us could have done any better."
        "I agree," Matt said.  "And we're happy you're with us."
        Chris looked around at Jeff's room, now his for the moment.  "Your mom's and dad's house is humongous," he said.  "It just swallows up this whole crowd like we were nothing."
        "I know it," Matt said.  "The oldest part of the house pre-dates the Revolutionary War, and of course it's been remodeled and added to over the years.  I remember when I was a little kid, maybe five years old, when the last major renovation was done.  We actually lived in the gatehouse for awhile because things were so torn up.  The contractor added a slew of bathrooms to the place, and modernized the heating and cooling systems, and put in a new kitchen.  Every bedroom in the place has its own bathroom, just like the condo."  Matt smiled.  "I wish they'd have put in an elevator, though.  There's a dumb waiter, but no elevator.  Maybe next time."
        "And wait 'til you see the grounds, Chris," Mike added.  "They're mammoth.  And that brick wall you saw when we got here runs around the whole property."  He looked at Matt.  "Y'think there are any snowmobiles or ATV's in the garage?"
        "We'll check, but I think there might be one of each," Matt said thoughtfully.
        "Good," Mike said.  "Maybe Chris can use one of 'em to go with us when we run.  Listen, buddy, do you need us to do anything before we go downstairs?  There's a TV over there, and the remote is on your bedside table."
        "Yeah," Chris said.  "Help me take off my pants before you leave, will ya?  And can you give me a wire coat hanger I can stick down inside this cast on my leg to scratch with?  I forgot to pack the one I was using at home--jeez, listen to me, calling your place 'home.'  I mean, I left it back at your condo.  Anyway, my leg is itching like crazy.  My arm isn't, though, I don't know why.  Anyway, I hafta scratch my leg."
        "No problem, dude.  And by the way, the condo is your home, for as long as you need it to be."  Matt went to Jeff's closet, retrieved a wire coat hanger, and started unraveling it to make a scratcher while Mike unlaced the tennis shoe on Chris's good leg, and removed the shoe and the sock.  Then he took Chris' slipper and sock off of the bad leg.  Chris undid his belt, opened his top button, and raised himself up off the bed on his arms so Mike could pull his baggy jeans off, leaving him clad in his boxers and a T-shirt.
        This guy has a great body, Mike reminded himself as he checked Chris out.  Even through his boxers you could see he had a nice package .  The leg without the cast was perfectly proportioned, a jock's leg, well developed.  It and his chest between his pecs were lightly dusted with hair, dark hair like the hair on his head and under his arms.  Mike had seen his body before when he'd been swimming at the condo the night they first met, and it was a very pleasant sight.
        Matt finished his job with the coat hanger, and handed Chris the makeshift scratcher.  Chris grabbed it and immediately plunged it down his leg under the cast, giving a blissful sigh of relief as he hit the spot that was itching.
        "You need anything else while we're here?" Matt asked.  "The bathroom's through that door."  He walked over and snapped on the bathroom light, and looked the room over.  "There are fresh towels and everything in there.  There's a robe hanging just inside the door.  Do you need your pain pills or anything?"
        "Nah.  I stopped taking 'em."
        "That's good," Mike said.  "You'll heal faster without that stuff in your system."  He pulled Chris up to a standing position for a moment so he could turn down the bed, then let him sit down again.  "I'm sure Linda will stop by before she goes to bed.  I think she packed your urinal, in case you need to pee in the middle of the night and don't want to get up.  Now, Matt's and my room is right across the hall, and when we come to bed, we'll open your door and leave ours open, too.  Just give us a shout if you need anything, OK?"
        "Guys, thanks again.  I'll never forget everything you've done for me, and I mean that," Chris said, looking at both of them seriously.
        Matt and Mike just smiled, and shrugged it off.  Then Matt got a wicked gleam in his eye.
        "Y'know, you two guys are kind of a captive audience, just the kind I like.  For sure, you can't run away," he said, looking at Chris.  "I think it's time for a story.  It has a sort of religious theme, in keeping with the season."
        Mike groaned, but Matt launched into his story anyway.
        "There's this guy who had been lost and walking in the desert for about 2 weeks. One hot day, he sees the home of a missionary.  Tired and weak, he crawls up to the house and collapses on the doorstep. The missionary finds him and nurses him back to health. Feeling better, the man asks the missionary for directions to the nearest town. On his way out the back door, he sees this horse.
        "He goes back into the house and asks the missionary, 'Can I borrow your horse and leave it there for you when I reach the town?'
        "The missionary says, 'Sure, but there's a special thing about this horse. You have to say "Thank God" to make it go and "Amen" to make it stop.'
        "Not paying much attention, the man says, 'Sure, ok.'
        "So he gets on the horse and says, 'Thank God,' and the horse starts walking. Then he says, 'Thank God, thank God, ' and the horse starts trotting. Feeling really brave, the man says, 'Thank God, thank God, thank God, thank God, thank God,' and the horse just takes off at a dead run.
        "Pretty soon he sees this cliff coming up, and he's doing everything he can to make the horse stop.
        "'Whoa, stop, hold on!' but the horse continues at a full gallop.
        "Finally he remembers, 'Amen!'
        "The horse stops 4 inches from the cliff. The man leans back in the saddle, takes a deep breath of relief, and says, 'Thank God!!!!'"  
        Chris laughed as Mike tried to keep from smiling.
        "Thank God that's over," Mike said, briefly putting Matt in a headlock and then letting him go.
        After telling Chris goodnight, Matt and Mike shut the bedroom door behind them, leaving their friend to finish getting ready for bed.  They looked in on the boys.  They were all sleeping soundly, and Kyle hadn't even thrown his blanket on the floor as he so often did.
        "I saw you checking out Chris while you were helping him undress," Matt said as they started down the stairs.
        "Yeah, I was.  I check out other guys once in awhile just to remind me that I'm already married to the best."
        "You're good!" Matt said, laughing.  "I like a guy who's fast on his feet like that."
        Then they headed for their family and guests in the library, which was now echoing to the sounds of conversation and laughter.  Before they went in, Mike and Matt stood outside the library door and exchanged a few kisses.  Good ones.  Very tender and very good.
        *  *  *
        The next morning, Chris woke up about 7 a.m. after a great night's sleep and lay in his bed listening for the sounds of the house.  There wasn't much to hear.  It was very quiet.  Swinging his legs to the floor, he took his crutches from where they were leaning against his bedside table and made his way slowly to the bathroom.  After relieving himself, he cleaned his teeth and ran a damp washcloth over his body and took a quick shave with his electric razaor, and then went back to the bedroom.  After a struggle, he managed to put on his pants without assistance, and pulled a fresh T-shirt out of his suitcase and over his head.
        His bedroom door was open.  He crutched into the hallway, peering into Matt's and Mike's room as he passed by their door.  The two young men were silent and unmoving in their bed, lying loosely entwined facing one another on their pillows, uncovered and bare to their waists.  Chris had come to realize how deep the love between these two men was, for all their clowning around with each other.  Gay relationship or not, the young cop envied them that love.
        Continuing down the hall, he reached the stairs, and holding both crutches on one side and clutching the balustrade on the other, he hopped down a hundred or more steps.  It seemed like a thousand.  He followed his nose into the dining room, his stomach rumbling.
        Justice Broman sat alone at the head of the table, sipping coffee and reading the morning paper.  He looked up as Chris entered the room.
        "Good morning, Chris," he said, folding up the paper.  "I'm glad there's at least one other 'morning person' around here.  Come on in and sit down."  The jurist pointed to a place setting near him.
        A sideboard stretched along one wall, covered with heated plates and juice glasses, along with glass and silver decanters and silver chafing dishes from which steam and enticing smells were emanating.
        "Let me fix a plate for you," the jurist said, standing up.  "We have scrambled eggs, bacon, ham, biscuits and gravy, oatmeal, cold cereals, toast, French toast, mixed fresh fruit, orange juice and tomato juice and grapefruit juice, decaf or regular coffee, and tea.  If none of that appeals to you, we can have the kitchen fix you something you like."
        "Thank you, sir," Chris said.  "Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, fresh fruit, tomato juice and regular coffee sound good to me."
        He watched as the older man went to the sideboard, where he filled a small bowl with fruit, a glass with tomato juice, poured coffee into a cup, and brought them over to the table, putting them down in front of the young policeman.
        "Start with these," he said, smiling.
        Mr. Broman went back to the sideboard, and taking a warm plate, began to fill it up with Chris' choices of food.  Soon there was a full plate sitting in front the young officer, and he got right down to the business of eating.
        Justice Broman sat down at his place again and looked over at Chris.
        "Are your arm and leg healing all right?" he asked.
        "Yes, sir, they're coming along fine, according to the doctor," Chris said between bites.  "I can't wait to get out of these casts.  You know, we just don't realize how much we take our bodies for granted until we're incapacitated for some reason.  Anyway, I really appreciated Matt's and Mike's offer to stay with them while I'm healing."
        "Any residual effects from your wounds?" Mr. Broman asked.
        "Did Matt or Mike tell you?"
        "Tell me what?"
        "The doctor thinks I'm going to have some permanent weakness in my left hand from the bullet I took in the brain," Chris said.  "If that's true, my career in law enforcement is over, I'm afraid."
        The justice groaned, and shook his head.  "I'm really sorry to hear that," he said.  "That's pretty hard to take."
        "Yes.  I spent quite a bit of time wallowing in self-pity about it until Matt kind of snapped me out of it.  I don't know yet what kind of work I'm going to do to make a living now, but something will turn up, I'm sure."
        "I'm sure you're right," Justice Broman said.  "Let me think about your job situation, though.  And if there's anything else I can do, perhaps providing a reference or something, I'd be happy to do that.  I can talk to potential employers on your behalf.  We all owe you a great deal for what you did in catching a lot of very bad people.  Society in general, I mean, owes you, and this family in particular."
        "Thank you.  But I was just doing my job."
        Mr. Broman smiled.  "I understand.  But there's 'doing your job,' and then there's 'doing your job!!! '  You know, with exclamation points.  I put what you did in the latter category."
        "Thank you."  Chris chewed thoughtfully on his food for a moment, and then took a sip of coffee.  "May I ask you a question, sir?"
        "Yes, of course."
        "I think you have a remarkable family, Justice Broman.  Especially for people of wealth, and I don't mean to be offensive when I say that.  There's so much love and understanding and support.  It's pretty unusual, I think.  I suppose this is a strange question, but I was wondering how that happened.  Is there a secret to it?"
        Mr. Broman chuckled.  "You're right, this is an unusual family.  I don't take the credit, by the way.  If anyone is responsible for what we are as a family, it's Jane.  I do credit the Church to some degree as well.  I don't go along with just everything the Church tells us, but I respect it for protecting and teaching the core values we should all try to live by, and for proclaiming the forgiveness of God to us when we fail to do so.  Of course, determining what those core values are, and conversely, what they are not, is an ongoing challenge.
        "I do think that the kind of marriage Jane and I have, has had a good effect on our children and on our relationship with them, though.  If you had asked a few weeks ago what the actual ingredients were in our marriage that have kept us close to and happy with each other, I probably couldn't have verbalized it very well.  But I was reading an article recently that gave me some insight.  It basically said that the happiest and most enduring marriages depend on maintaining and nourishing the initial illusions about your partner that caused you to form a relationship in the first place."
        "Maintaining your illusions?" Chris asked skeptically.
        "I know that sounds strange, because we all expend a lot of effort attempting to decipher what's real in everyday life.  But the author's contention was that the happiest lovers are those who are the most positive about each other and continue to idealize their partners the way they did early on in their courtship.  They tend to be the kind of people who remain positive and hold on to the expectation that their relationship can and will endure through hard times."
        Chris continued eating for a moment, lost in thought.
        "You know, that makes a lot of sense," he said finally.  "Mike and Matt told me you and Mrs. Broman are amazing people.  I can see what they meant.  You kind of bowl me over, sir, to be honest.  You've definitely helped me understand how it is that Matt and Mike are, well, so committed to each other."
        "Do you know many gay people or gay couples?" the jurist asked.
        "No, I don't.  But I recently learned that my best friend is gay, or thinks he might be.  That tells me that there are more homosexuals out there than we think, and that we're probably rubbing shoulders with them every day and don't even know it."
        "I suspect you're right.  How do you feel about homosexuality?"
        "If you had asked me that question before I met Mike and Matt, and before my friend came out to me, I'd have given you an entirely different answer, sir.  Not all police officers are homophobic, but many are, and I have to admit I was in that camp to some degree.  I never really hated gays or persecuted them, but I grew up not thinking very highly of them, to be honest with you."
        "And now?"
        "I'm confused," Chris said.
        "About what?"
        "I guess I'm trying to resolve the conflict between beliefs I've had my whole life, guided by the Church's official teachings about homosexuality, and the clear evidence of the powerful and loving relationship that gay people like Matt and Mike have in the real world.  And also with the fact that my best friend maybe is gay and yet is a great guy and a good person.  I think I'm pretty much at the point where I just don't have it in me to condemn people anymore for their sexual orientation.  Captain Angelo--you remember him from Matt's and Mike's wedding, I'm sure--initially had a hard time with your sons' relationship after he found out they were gay.  I guess the Sisters from Hospice kind of took him to the woodshed and gave him another perspective right quick.  Matt and Mike are very special people, and they've been kinder to me than I deserve.  How can I condemn them for the love they show each other?  So, I guess I'd say I'm working on my problem, and it's become clear to me that it is my problem.  Is sexual orientation an example of what you meant when you said you don't go along with just everything the Church teaches?"
        "Yes, it is.  If every gay clergyperson, or for that matter, every gay layman and laywoman in the history of the Church is going to burn for homosexual acts, it's going to be one hell of a conflagration.  I'm obviously not talking about pedophilia, here, you understand.  That stands condemned, and rightly so.  But it behooves the Church to take a new look at the issue of sexual orientation and at the God-given mandate to all Christian believers to live their lives in accordance with their nature, that beautiful nature that God gave us and redeemed for us.  So I'm very comfortable with the fact that a gutsy young priest, backed up by a gutsy parish rector, married my sons to each other in church, right out there in front of God and everybody.  These two priests, by almost any measure, would be considered theological conservatives.  But their sense of justice and compassion made them move ahead of their peers on this issue, and Mike's and Matt's relationship is the stronger for it, I can assure you."
        "There's no way that it wouldn't be," Chris said.
        Jeff and Andie, both looking very happy, came into the dining room for breakfast right then.
        Justice Broman looked at them.  "Happy faces," he said to Chris, smiling.  "They lift the heart, don't they?  For these two young people, things are easier than for gay couples like Matt and Mike.  Thanks be to God that somebody is having an easier time of it."
        Before getting their breakfast, Andie and Jeff approached Mr. Broman, and Jeff took Andie's left hand and showed it to his father.  She was wearing a sizable diamond engagement ring.
        "Dad, I've asked Andie to marry me, and she's done me the honor to accept."
        Justice Broman stood up, beaming at the young couple.  First he hugged Andie and kissed her, and then Jeff.
        "Congratulations, son!" he said enthusiastically.  "And Andie, all my very best wishes! I'm so happy for you both!  Jeff, your mother will be thrilled!"
        "About what?" Jane Broman said as she came into the dining room dressed in a simple white blouse and black slacks, looking like a million dollars.
        "Mom, Andie has agreed to become my wife," Jeff said.
        "Oh, my goodness!"  Stunned but smiling, Jane Broman walked quickly to the young couple and embraced and kissed them both.  "I am thrilled for you!"  She oohed and aahhed over the engagement ring, and then said, "I think I need to sit down."
        Justice Broman pulled out a chair for her across the table from Chris, next to his own, and when she was seated, he took her hand.  She looked at him with love.
        "Our babies, Matthew!  They're leaving us, one by one.  But they're making some great choices for partners, I'll have to admit that."
        "I agree, sweetheart.  Life should be so good for everybody!"
        Chris extended his hand across the table to Jeff and Andie.  "Congratulations, guys!  This is wonderful news!"
        "I don't think a handshake is gonna do it for us, dude!" Jeff said, and he and Andie walked around the table as Chris stood up, and each gave him a big hug.  Chris felt really good about that, and smiled from ear to ear.
        Matt and Mike walked in just then with the three boys.
        "All right, what's with all the hugging going on here?" Mike demanded, feigning disgust.
        "Jeff popped the question, and I said 'yes,'" Andie said, showing them her ring.
        Matt and Mike rushed over to the young couple and grabbed them up in their arms, kissing them both soundly.  Their little boys watched curiously, not certain what was going on.
        "Oops, I forgot," Mike told everybody.  "The wedding is off!  Jeff didn't ask me for permission first, and he knows he was supposed to!"
        Everybody hooted.
        "Dad, what's happening?" Matthew asked, looking up at Mike, pulling at his pant leg.  Mike picked him up and gave him a kiss.
        "Uncle Jeff and Andie are getting married, Matthew!  If you all play your cards right, you and your brothers might get to be in another wedding."  The boys all smiled, and Jeff took Matthew in his arms from Mike and then added Michael and Kyle to his collection, and danced around holding them as all three kids laughed at their uncle.
        Matt embraced Andie again and kissed her, and took her hand and looked at the ring more closely.  It was beautiful.  "I highly recommend marriage.  But have you tried to cut glass with this yet?  It might not be real."
        "If it isn't, I'm out an awful lot of money," Jeff said, laughing.  He'd cleaned out one of his savings accounts to buy it.
        "Have you set a date?" Mrs. Broman asked the happy couple.
        "Not precisely," Andie said.  "Just as soon after graduation as we can, though."
        "In Chicago?" Mr. Broman asked.
        "Yes," Andie said.  "I want us to be married at St. Stephen's Church, if the parish schedule permits."
        "Looks like another fun trip to Chicago, sweetheart," Justice Broman said to his wife.
        "Jeff, I'll put you on my schedule for a little chat about the birds and the bees before then," Matt said, deadpan.  "I don't want you to come across as ignorant on your wedding night."
        Everybody roared as Andie, blushing a little, looked at Jeff.
        "You just might be a little late on that, bro," Jeff said, grinning like an idiot because he was so happy.
        Things finally settled down as those who hadn't yet eaten went to the sideboard and began helping themselves to platefuls of food.  Mike and Matt and Mr. Broman fixed plates and poured juice for the three boys, and then Matt and Mike got food for themselves and sat down to eat.  Deeply content, the justice watched the young people eat and kibitz with one another.
        *  *  *
        Father David Howard called midmorning that same day and talked to Matt.  Father Rohm had agreed to let David have the week off following Christmas Day, and he wanted to fly to Pennsylvania two days after Christmas, after he had made his duty visit to his parents in Indiana.  Matt was pleased, and good as his word, he made the plane reservations from his end and paid for the ticket.  Matt made a point of telling Martha that the priest was coming to spend some time with them, and she seemed energized when she heard it.
        Martha hadn't completely sorted out all her feelings about David Howard, but she thought he was handsome as all get out, with a great personality.  She knew, too, that given what he had done for Mike and Matt, he had backbone and did what he thought was right no matter what others thought.  Those qualities counted for a lot with her, and she began looking forward to his visit with great anticipation.
        When asked, Matt, Mike, Jeff and Martha all took turns driving various of their guests to a large shopping center about 10 miles from the estate so they could do shopping that they hadn't had a chance to do before, and to buy last minute things.  Matt took Chris, and since they hadn't brought a wheelchair along on the trip, he put him in one of those electric carts with a flashing light on top of it so he could get around.  Chris was a little embarrassed.  But the contraption got the job done, and saved Chris from getting all worn out from being on his crutches for an extended period of time.
        When Christmas Eve day rolled around, much to Matt's astonishment, Mike asked him to church with him at noon for a late Advent service of preparation for Christmas.  The service gave parishioners the opportunity for corporate general confession as well as private confessions for those who wished to make them.  Matt said he would go.  Mrs. Broman and surprisingly, Chris Russo, went with them. Old St. Paul's was purposely dark and gloomy, relieved only by the occasional overhead light and splashes of color from a rack of blue votive lights burning beneath a beautifully carved wooden statue of the Blessed Virgin.  A lighted nativity scene also had been placed in one of the transcepts, with the creche still empty.
        Chris couldn't help reflecting somberly on man's inhumanity to man, even as the great feast approached, and glumly wondered to himself if things had improved in the world all that much since Jesus had been born.  The full force of the kingdom of God was certainly taking its own sweet time in making itself felt, he thought to himself.  On the other hand, maybe Matt's and Mike's philosophy of slogging along, putting one foot in front of the other when things were tough, was the only way the kingdom would come at all.
        Mrs. Broman went to confession, as did Mike.  When Matt saw his partner go, he made his own preparation and went as well.  Chris thought it over, and decided that out of gratitude for his life having been spared when he was shot, he would go, too.  After quizzing Matt in whispers about the confession format to find out if was different from the Roman Catholic one, he crutched his way into one of the booths and made his confession.  Before long he emerged to do his penance, feeling satisfied with his decision.  He felt humbled and very much at peace.
        On the way home, Chris was riding shotgun in Mrs. Broman's brand new Cadillac sedan, a Christmas gift from her husband.  Matt and Mike were sitting in the back.
        Matt leaned over, blew in his partner's ear, and said quietly, "I hope you didn't scare the priest by confessing any of your weirder sexual exploits."
        "I don't know about scaring him, but I think he was panting by the time he gave me absolution," Mike responded.
        Chris wasn't supposed to hear it, but he did, and burst out laughing.  That started Matt laughing, too.
        "What, Chris?" Jane Broman asked.
        "Your sons crack me up, that's all!" he said.
        Mrs. Broman just smiled and wisely refrained from asking for details.
        When they arrived back home, Matt decided that the condo runners and anyone else he could catch needed exercise to stay in shape, so he hassled Mike, Martha, Stan, Linda, Jeff and Andie until they changed clothes for a run part of the way around the estate.  He also had looked in the garage, and in one of the bays there was an ATV.  He fired it up, and drove it to the front door of the house for Chris to use while everybody else ran.  It energized Chris to be with the gang.  Once he had familiarized himself with the controls and borrowed an old motorcycle helmet from Jeff, they all took off.  Chris matched the runners' pace as he drove to one side of them while they did five miles, first following the perimeter wall of the estate and then cutting back diagonally to the house.  Once they had gotten back and the runners had showered, everyone was feeling really pumped about the day thus far.
        Mrs. Broman had written down the mass schedule for Christmas Eve night and for Christmas Day at Our Lady of Sorrows, the Roman Catholic parish, and drawn a map of how to get there for Stan, Linda, Chris and Carole.  But they all decided independently that they were going to attend the midnight mass at Old St. Paul's Church with the Bromans.  Matt ribbed Chris and Stan that the fires of hell would probably be warmed up a few degrees for them as a result of their impending visit to an Episcopal parish for mass on a high holy day.  Chris just laughed at him and Stan grinned and flipped him the bird.  Repeatedly, with both hands.
        Jane Broman's brother Jack Hagerty and sister-in-law Judy arrived in their car around dusk with a trunk full of Christmas presents.  Grandma Hagerty had not felt up to the trip.  The Hagertys looked good, and the family was glad to see them.  Matt was surprised how well they took to all the people from Chicago, many of whom they had only met for the first time at Mike's and Matt's wedding and reception.  Judy liked Carole Maggliozzi immediately, and they started hanging out together in a new friendship no one would have predicted.  Matt was pleasantly surprised when his Uncle Jack didn't start pounding back the drinks, as was his wont on a holiday.  That was a nice change, although the man had never been a mean drunk at all.
        After the Hagertys were settled in, the family and friends gathered in the dining room for a light buffet.  The decision had been made to open Christmas presents after a late breakfast on Christmas morning, followed by Christmas dinner at 4 p.m..
        Old St. Paul's "midnight" Christmas Eve mass was to start at 10:30 p.m., so Mrs. Broman made sure that everybody was ready to leave the house by 10:00 p.m. so they could make it to the church by 10:15.  That way, they could all sit together.  They drove over in three cars, and arrived right on time.
        The earlier gloom of the church was now dispelled by additional banks of votive lights ignited by the faithful, and lighted candles were also mounted on tall staffs up and down the aisles at each end of every pew.  Two large fir trees dressed up the sanctuary at the sides of the altar, now clad in its gleaming white Christmas finery.  Altar boys and girls dressed in red cassocks and freshly laundered white surplices soon came out of the sacristy and lit the tall altar candles.  Mike thought to himself that the corps of acolytes just kept being replenished with good looking boys and young men, all of whom looked really good in their vestments.  America had been keeping itself busy in the bedroom, praise God.  And Mike gave the pretty girls serving at the altar a second glance as well.
        Matthew, Michael and Kyle had not one, but two naps during the day so that they could stay up late for the service.  Dressed in cute little suits, white shirts  and red clip-on ties, they stood quietly on the kneelers between their dads so they could look around curiously at everything that was going on.
        The pipe organ began playing softly as parishioners continued to come into the church quietly, enter the pews and kneel to make their preparation for the Eucharist.  Soon the nave was packed and folding chairs were being set up in the back.  Matt enjoyed yet again the feeling he always got in the pit of his stomach from the deep bass sound of the organ's 64' bourdon pipes.  The magnificent old gothic building trembled at the lowest notes.
        The organist played a prelude, and when he finished, there was a deep silence.  Matt smiled in anticipation when he heard at the back of the church the sound of a thurible top being run up its chains so that incense could be added to hot coals.  After the top rattled back down, a fanfare from the state trumpets mounted on the back wall pierced the air as the congregation stood and the organist launched into the first hymn of Christmas, Angels from the realm of glory, wing your flight o'er all the earth....  As the choir began singing and processing down the center aisle behind the thurifer and crucifer, Mike looked over at his partner and the three boys for a long moment, loving them and loving being there with them.
        Matt and Mike weren't alone in savoring the occasion.  Mary Bradford stood there holding her hymnal, seeing from her place in the pews the members of this family whom she loved and to whom she felt she owed so much, perhaps even her life.  She caught Justice Broman also gazing at the family with a thankful, contented look.  Their eyes met, and they smiled at one another as they began to sing the opening hymn.
        The thurifer continued making his way down the aisle, incense billowing, followed by the crucifer and choir.  Heads bowed as the crucifix was carried by.  The choir of about 40 people continued processing, with a deacon and two priests dressed in a matching set of white Eucharistic vestments following them behind a second processional cross.  The three little Broman boys were watching everything intently and taking it all in.
        After the celebrant had reached the altar and censed it during the singing of the introit, mass began in earnest with the collect for the first mass of Christmas, then an Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, [The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light...], Psalm 96, [Sing to the Lord a new song,* sing to the Lord, all the whole earth...], Paul's epistle to Titus [The grace of God has appeared for the salvation of all men...], and finally the Alleleuias and a gradual just before the Gospel from Luke, which was sung by the deacon from the center aisle of the church, in the midst of the congregants, who were now all standing:  [In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled.].
        The rector's homily was based on the Christian proclamation to the world that "the Word had become flesh, and dwelt among us," and was quite good in discussing the uniqueness of this belief for Christians among all the world's religions.  He said that the bridge between God and man could only be fully realized, however, as Christians built ties of love and trust to those of other faiths everywhere.  There was that difficult word, "love," again, Matt thought to himself.
        After the gifts of bread and wine were placed on the altar, a lay reader led the congregation in the Prayers of the People.  When he asked for specific individuals to be mentioned for prayer on their behalf, Matt, Mike and Chris simultaneously said "Josh" aloud.  They looked at one another and grinned.  Matt and Mike included their grandmother and Chris in their petitions for the aged, the injured and the sick.
        The celebrant stated that the intention of the mass was for world peace and the healing of the wounds of war and violence.
        As Matt listened to the familiar words of the Eucharist prayers, he silently offered thanks for the abundant blessings he had received in his life:  all the wonderful people who were part of his existence, starting with his partner Mike and their three beautiful sons, his loving parents and grandmother, Jack and Judy Hagerty, Martha and Jeff and Andie, Mary Bradford and Stan and Linda and Chris and Carole and confused young Josh, Tony and Marie Angelo, Sister Angeline and Sister Catherine, Father Rohm and Father Howard, Arnie Watkins, and Branford and Mrs. Brighton, and Dominic their faithful doorman at home in Chicago.  He thought of Breakers and his unceasing devotion to the family.  He thought of the clothing he wore and the roof over his head that he all too often took for granted, and the food with which he had been fed, and the education he had received and the gift of limitless possibilities stretching out before him to be of service to others in this world.  His heart was full, and it was all he could do not to echo aloud the magnificent, pervasive, cosmic "YES!" of life as the priest-celebrant held up the consecrated host and chalice to the faithful and said, "The gifts of God for the people of God."
        
Part 4

        When the Bromans and their guests had arrived home from mass at Old St. Paul's Church, the grandfather clock in the lower hall said they were already an hour into Christmas Day.  It wasn't long before everyone was in bed except for Mr. Broman.  He had kissed his wife affectionately and wished her a Blessed Christmas, and she had retired for the evening.  He himself had changed into his pajamas, robe and slippers, and made his way into a little sitting room off their bedroom.  Sitting down at a writing desk, he pulled out his letterhead as an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States and began to write personal notes in longhand to Mike, Matt, Jeff, Martha, Mary Bradford, Andie Parker, Stan Rosinski, Linda Kosco, Chris Russo, Carol Maggliozzi, and Jack and Judy Hagerty.
        Each note to his children expressed the justice's love for them.  He spoke of the pride that he took in the strong, admirable person he or she had each become and was still becoming, as well as singling out specific personal traits and achievements of theirs which he held in high regard.  In the note to Mary Bradford, he reminded her what the entire family owed her for her loyalty to the truth in Matt's trial, resulting in the loss of her marriage, and said that as a member of the family, she would have a place in their hearts as long as they all drew breath.  Andie's note welcomed her to the family, commenting on the obvious happiness she had brought into Jeff's life and how fortunate everyone felt to have her in their lives.  He told Jack and Judy Hagerty how much he had treasured his relationship with them, through good times and bad, since he and Jane had been married.  He thanked the rest of the Chicago crew for their friendship with the Bromans, saying that he counted his bond of affection with them among his chief joys that Christmas and stating his desire that the ties of affection to them would grow ever stronger over the years that lay ahead.
        When he was finished, he placed each note in an envelope on which he wrote the name of the intended recipient, and taking a list of rooms and occupants which Mrs. Brighton had prepared for him the previous day, walked up and down the long halls, now quiet, sliding each envelope under the appropriate door to be discovered and opened the following morning.  When he was finished, he returned to his bedroom, turning out lights as he went, and gratefully climbed into bed beside his slumbering spouse, the light of his life.  Sleep came almost immediately.
        *  *  *
        Mike awakened on Christmas morning with a start when something touched his hand, which was hanging over the side of the bed.  He lifted his head off the pillow and looked down to see Michael standing there in his PJ's in the early morning gloom, tugging gently on his dad's arm to get his attention.  Matt was still sleeping soundly, his body warm where it pressed against Mike's side.
        "Daddy?" the little boy whispered.
        Due to the late night on Christmas Eve, Mike wasn't keen on facing the day yet, even if it was Christmas Day.
        "Yes?" he groaned softly, shutting his eyes again in the vain hope that more sleep might yet somehow, magically, be in the offing.
        "Is it time to open presents yet?"
        Mike took a quick look at his watch.  7 a.m.
        "Not yet, Michael," Mike whispered back.  "Are Matthew and Kyle still sleeping?"
        "Yes."
        "If I let you sleep with Dad and me, do you think you could sleep a little longer?" Mike asked.
        "OK," the boy said, holding up his arms.
        Mike moved away from Matt toward the edge of the bed, and reaching down to their early bird son, lifted him up and deposited him under the covers between Matt and him.  Matt sighed in his sleep, but didn't wake up.
        The little boy snuggled up to Mike, who cradled him and kissed the side of his head.  Soon the two of them drifted off to sleep again.
        An hour later, Mike woke up again, this time from something poking him in the back.  Rolling slowly away from Michael and turning his head, again he looked down at the side of the bed, where two more little faces looked up at him.
        "Hey, Dad," Kyle said quietly.  "It's time to get up now."
        Mike rubbed his eyes and yawned.  No rest for the wicked, he thought to himself.  Then he reached down quickly and grabbed Matthew and Kyle before they could escape, bringing them into bed with Matt and him as well.  The two boys giggled.
        "Why should we get up right now?" Mike asked Matthew and Kyle, keeping a straight face.
        "You know," Kyle said.
        "I know what?"
        "We should be opening presents by now," Kyle told him.
        "How do you know you have any presents?" Mike asked.
        "I saw my name on one," Matthew interjected.
        "How do you know it wasn't for your dad?"
        "'Cause he's Matt and I'm Matthew.  You know that, Dad!"
        "Ow!" Michael said, waking up to feel his brothers more or less on top of him.  "You're hurting me!  Get off!"
        Mike divided the space in the center of the bed more equitably between the three kids, with Michael now pushed over to where he was practically on top of Matt.  The latter finally showed signs of life and opened his eyes.
        "Who are these three strange children in bed with us, Mike?" Matt yawned, looking over at his partner.  "I've never seen them before in my life."   The boys laughed.
        "I don't know.  They just appeared, and started talking about Christmas presents," Mike said.
        "I don't know anything about any Christmas presents.  Do you?" Matt asked.
        "No.  I thought Christmas was called off this year," Mike said.
        "No, it wasn't," Matthew said.
        "How do you know?" Mike asked.
        "'Cause Spongebob Squarepants said so on TV yesterday," Matthew said.
        "Well, maybe Spongebob was foolin' with ya," Mike responded.
        "No-o-o-o!" the three boys said.
        "Come on, let's go downstairs," Michael added.  "I'll show you the presents.  They're under the tree."
        Matt grabbed the nearest victim, Michael, and gave him a kiss.  "You're right," he admitted to the boys.  "We've been kiddin' ya.  But we have to get cleaned up and go down and have breakfast first, and then wait until everybody is up before we start opening presents.  Can you guys go clean your teeth for me and wash and get dressed while your dad and I get ready?"
        Satisfied with that, the three boys squirmed over the top of their dads and out of bed, running for the bedroom door.
        "Put on clean underwear!  And socks!" Matt added as they scampered into the hall.  He looked at Mike.  "If they actually do what I told them, we've moved into a new and wonderful phase of child rearing," he said to him.
        Mike moved over close to Matt and studied him with a grin.
        "Remember Christmas morning when you were a kid?  Knowing you, you probably started your little campaign with Mom and Dad to open presents at about 4 a.m."
        Grabbing Mike, Matt rolled his partner on top of him and rubbed noses with him.
        "Wrong again, buddy!  It was more like 3 a.m., for your information," Matt said.
        Mike put his arms around him, lowered his head, and gave his partner a slow, gentle kiss on the lips.  "Merry Christmas, Matt.  I love ya, man!  You're the best present I ever got!  And that'll always be true."
        "You stole my line, dude!  I was gonna tell you that!" Matt protested, grinning.  "But seriously, I'm lucky, lucky, lucky to have you in my life, Mikey.  There's only one of you, and you're all mine!  I love ya!  Merry Christmas, sweetboy!"
        The sensation of skin on skin made them horny and they each threw a bone.  But knowing there wasn't enough time before the kids came back to make love slowly and deliberately, the way they wanted to, they reluctantly rolled out of bed and went to shower together.  As they kissed deeply and held one another in the spray of warm water, their eyes promised they would do better by one another in bed later.  They washed each other gently, and then stepped out of the shower to dry one another off, clean their teeth and shave.  Dressing quickly, they assumed their usual uniform of T-shirts and well worn Levi's, with Nike's crammed on their feet over white sweat socks.
        They finished dressing just as the three boys sped back into the room, chattering away with smiles of anticipation on their faces.
        "Did you do everything I told you?" Matt asked.
        The boys all nodded "Yes."
        "You're such good boys!!  All right, we'll go down to breakfast," Mike said.  "But first, let's see if Chris wants to get some breakfast too, OK?"
        "His door is shut," Matthew observed.  "And here--these were on the floor by your door."  He handed two envelopes to his dads.
        Matt and Mike each opened his envelope, and read what their dad had written to them.  Mike sat down hard on the bed when he finished, his eyes moist.
        "Without a doubt, this is one of the nicest presents I ever received," Mike said.  "Actually, Dad himself is a gift to everybody!"  Matt nodded, shaking his head in wonder at the kindness and generosity in the words his father had written to him.
        "We'll go on down," Matt suggested quietly, putting the note in his pocket for re-reading later, "and you check on Chris, Mike."  He walked toward the stairs with the three chattering little boys clustered around him like baby quail around their mother.
        Mike went to Chris' door, and knocked on it softly as he picked up Chris' envelope from the floor.
        "Uuuuuhhhhh," Mike heard.  He opened the door a crack.
        "Chris?  It's Mike.  You awake?"
        "Sort of."
        "Are you ready for breakfast? Matt just took the boys downstairs."
        "Yeah, I'll get up.  I'm hungry."
        "Do you want me to wait for you?"
        "Sure, if you want to."
        Mike opened the door fully and went in.  Chris was still in bed, and greeted him with a big yawn and then a smile.  Mike handed him the envelope from Justice Broman.
        "What's this?" Chris asked.
        "I think it's a note from my dad."
        Chris opened the envelope and began reading.  His face grew somber, and he looked up at Mike when he finished.
        "I never knew my father, Mike.  You don't know how lucky you are.  To be truthful, I wish Justice Broman were my dad, too."
        "Well, Merry Christmas, buddy," Mike said.  "I do know how lucky I am.  And we'll share him."
        "Thanks," Chris said, placing the envelope on his bedside table to read again later.  "I'm gonna take you up on that.  Merry Christmas to you, Mike!  Man, did I ever sleep!" Chris said, throwing back his sheet and blanket and swiveling his legs around and putting his feet on the floor.
        Mike was a little surprised to see that Chris had slept in the nude.  He obviously had a good, solid build, well defined.  A red mark was still apparent on his washboard abs where one of the bullets had struck him in the incident on the Eisenhower Expressway.  Soft black hair covered his upper chest, and then mostly disappeared below his pecs down to his navel, reappearing there as a thin black line there that ran down into his crotch.    The man was hung.  His equipment, surrounded by a forest of black pubes, appeared to measure between five and six inches in its current state of half arousal, and was hovering over a big set of hairy balls.  All in all, he was a hunk.
        He didn't seem to be embarrassed in front of Mike at all.  Linda had been right about Chris losing any false modesty about his body during the course of healing from his injuries.
        "Do you want your robe?" Mike asked.
        "Nah.  There's nothing here you haven't seen before."  Chris continued to sit on the side of the bed, still waking up.  "Y'know," he said, "I got in the tub last night for the first time since I was shot, and it sure felt good."
        "With your casts?" Mike asked unbelievingly.
        "No.  I propped the bad leg and arm on the sides so they didn't get wet.  I don't know why I didn't think of that before.  That water sure felt wonderful."
        "Well, you know what they say about necessity being the mother of invention."
        "Affirmative on that.  Let me brush my teeth and get dressed, and I'll be ready.  Would you get me a fresh pair of boxers and a T-shirt out of my suitcase? And a pair of sweat socks?"
        "Yep."  Mike walked over and rummaged through Chris' suitcase until he found what he was looking for.  Chris put his crutches under his arms and went into the bathroom.
        Mike turned from the suitcase and took the underwear and socks into the bathroom.  Chris stood in front of the toilet, relieving himself.  The guy had a nice bubble butt on him, too, muscular and tight, Mike couldn't help noticing.  Some black hair showed in the crack of his ass.
        Chris flushed the toilet and closed the seat, sat down and tried to put on his boxers.  It was difficult with the casted leg straight out in front of him.  When he saw the man struggle, Mike helped him put on his shorts, T-shirt and socks.
        "Thanks," the young policeman said.
        After Chris had cleaned his teeth and run his electric razor over his face, he crutched his way back into the bedroom, sitting down again on the side of the bed while Mike helped him into his jeans and bedroom slippers.
        "All set?" Mike asked.
        "Yep.  How much longer before I can get these casts off, Mike?  Man, I'm sick of this shit!"
        "I know," Mike said sympathetically.  "It may be five weeks yet.  At least that long.  That's my guess, anyway."  He walked beside the young cop as they went to the head of the stairs.
        "Chris," Mike said before they started down, "I just wanna tell you how much Matt and I admire you.  You're dealing really well with some tough challenges, but you're gonna come out on top no matter what happens to your job with the state police.  We're with you all the way, too, so don't think that you're ever gonna have to struggle alone."
        Chris stopped in his tracks, and turned to Mike.  "Well, the admiration's mutual.  Truthfully, you and Matt and your family are some of the greatest people I've ever met in my life.  You've all been so good to me.  And that's nothing unusual for any of you, as I've found out.  It's really a privilege to call you my friends.  I know damn well I'd be in deep trouble trying to cope with my injuries, emotionally speaking, if I hadn't been able to be around you and Matt and had your support."  Standing on his good leg, he swiveled around and pulled Mike into a hug.  That was definitely a first for the tough young cop.
        Mike shook his head modestly as he took Chris' crutches in one hand and supported his friend around his waist with the other arm at the top of the stairs.  Chris put one arm around Mike's neck and his free hand on the balustrade, and together they slowly made their way down to the first floor.
        "Thanks again," Chris said at the bottom of the stairs as he took back his crutches and they headed for the good smells coming from the dining room.  They joined Justice Broman, Matt and the three boys, who were already eating at the dining room table.
        " 'Morning, everybody," Chris said.
        " 'Morning, Chris," Justice Broman and Matt said together.  The three little boys gave their good buddy big smiles as they chowed down on their food.  " 'Morning, Mike," Justice Broman added.  "Everybody sleep well?" the jurist asked.
        "I don't remember when I've slept so soundly," Chris said.  "I may just steal Jeff's bed and take it back to Chicago with me.  Will it fit on the plane?"
        "Without a doubt," Mike said, chuckling.
        Chris crutched over to the head of the table where Mr. Broman was seated.  "Thank you for your note, sir.  I don't deserve all the nice things you said about me, but I really appreciate it."
        "We all thank you, Dad.  What you said to us is incredibly generous," Matt said.  "We won't forget it."
        "That's for sure, Dad," Mike said.
        Justice Broman smiled.  "I meant every well deserved word."
        Mike went over and kissed his father's cheek.  "I told Chris we'd share you with him," Mike told the jurist.
        "That would be an honor for me," Mr. Broman said with a big smile.  "The more, the merrier."
        Chris sat down at the table, a little embarrassed, but smiling.
        "OK, Chris, what can I get you to eat?" Mike asked as he turned away from his dad.
        "What kind of eggs are there this morning?"
        "Poached," Mr. Broman said.  "Cook must have decided to eliminate some of the fat in our diet."
        "Good deal," Chris said.  "I'll have a couple of poached eggs on wheat toast, fresh fruit, and orange juice, please."
        "You got it, dude!" Mike said, and soon he had served his friend and then taken his own food back to the dining room table.
        "Grandpa, when can we open our presents?" Matthew asked, appealing his case directly to the highest authority.
        "Well, we have to wait until everybody eats breakfast," his grandfather responded.  "Then we'll open presents.  Why?  You're not anxious, are you?"
        The three boys looked at one another.
        "Matthew is," Kyle said, chewing away on his food.
        "I am not!"  Matthew said, giving Kyle a dirty look.
        "Don't talk with your mouth full, Kyle," Matt instructed.
        "Merry Christmas, everybody,"  Jane Broman said as she entered the dining room.  "You are not what, Matthew?" she asked, having overhead her grandson.
        "Angs, er uh, angs-shush to open presents," the little boy said, stumbling over a new and unfamiliar word..
        "Of course you're not!  None of you boys is," Jane Broman said, giving Matthew a kiss on top of his head.  "Now that I think about it, Christmas morning calls for kisses for all my favorite men."  Starting with a buss on the lips for her husband, she went around the table bestowing a kiss on all the boys and men, including Chris.  Chris just glowed.
        "Sit down, sweetheart," Justice Broman stood and said to his wife.  "What would you like to eat?"
        "Just coffee and fruit, thank you, dear.  How did everyone sleep?"
        A chorus of "Good" and "Fine" was heard from around the table.
        "I know Mike did, Mom," Matt added.  "I thought I was in a pen with farm animals, he snored so loud.  And then there was the smell!!"
        "See how he is," Mike protested laughingly.  "Already he starts!  Even on Christmas morning."
        "Take it from someone who knows, he never stops," Jeff interjected as he and Andie walked in.  They both had an unmistakable post-coital glow, Matt noticed.  He said nothing, but knew that his mom and dad couldn't miss it, either.  The two of them looked really good together.  Andie had on a pair of jeans that showed off her shape, with a nice top.  Jeff was wearing his usual Levi's with a T, but his hair was spiked up with gel, and he looked really cute.  They greeted the group warmly as they went to Mr. Broman who was at the sideboard and spoke to him quietly about the notes they had received.  Then they filled their plates and sat down.
        It wasn't long before Carole Maggliozzi and Jack and Judy Hagerty came in and greeted everyone, and were greeted in return.  The Hagertys thanked Justice Broman for his note as Carole went over to Chris and kissed his cheek.
        "Merry Christmas, Christopher!" she said.  "How did you sleep?"
        "Good, thanks, Aunt Carole."
        "You'll soon be back to your old self, you'll see," she said, patting his shoulder.  "I'm so glad we got to spend Christmas together."  She went to Justice Broman, who had returned to the head of the table by then, and hugged him wordlessly before he sat down.  Then she went to the sideboard, fixed a plate of food, and sat down beside Judy Hagerty.  The two of them started talking non-stop.
        Mary Bradford walked into the dining room, and walked over to Mr. Broman.  "Matthew, your note touched me deeply," she said.  "I thank God every day that I'm part of this family.  Thank you."
        Mr. Broman stood and hugged her and kissed her cheek without a word, and then she went to the sideboard for food.
        Stan and Linda were last to arrive.  They wished everyone a Merry Christmas, and after they filled their plates, joined the happy group around the table.
        "Mr. Broman,"  Linda said, looking at the jurist, "I can't thank you enough for your note.  I don't even know what to say."
        "I don't either," Stan said.  "Thank you so much.  It's such a privilege to know you, sir."
        "I just told all of you the truth," Mr. Broman said.  "But thank you."  Jane Broman looked at her husband fondly.
        The three boys had finished eating, and now were starting to fidget.
        Matt was seated next to his father, who leaned over toward him.
        "Look at these wonderful people around this table, son," the older man said quietly in the midst of all the loud conversations.  "These are moments to remember.  They help me keep going sometimes when things are tough."
        "I know it.  Why don't we get a picture?" Matt asked.  "Is there a camera downstairs somewhere?"
        "There's one in the desk drawer in the library," his dad said.
        Matt ate the last bite from his plate, and excused himself, returning with a digital camera.
        "All right, everybody.  Prepare to be digitalized," he said.
        "Wait, Matt," Jeff suggested.  "Ask Branford to take the picture so you're in it."
        " 'K," Matt said and walked into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with Branford, dressed as usual in his formal attire.  Everyone wished the butler a Merry Christmas.  Matt and he went to the foot of the huge table, and Matt checked the composition of the picture in the viewfinder.  Then he handed the camera over to Branford and resumed his seat next to his father.
        "One, two, three," Branford chanted in his clipped English accent, and the flash momentarily blinded everybody around the table.
        "Thank you, Branford," Matt said.  "Now let me get a shot of you and Mrs. Brighton and the staff."
        "Very well, Mr. Matthew," the butler said, and he and Matt disappeared into the kitchen.  There were sounds of Matt getting the staff posed, and then he emerged from the kitchen smiling.
        "These are excellent," he said, peering into the viewfinder at the pictures they had just taken.  "I'll print them up before we leave."
        "Good, son," Justice Broman said.
        Jeff and Andie were sitting at the table next to Jane Broman, who caught their eye after she finished eating.
        "I was thinking about a wedding present for you," she said to them.  "I don't want to upset anything you already had in mind, but I was wondering if you would let me create a new setting for your engagement ring, Andie, and then make matching wedding rings for you both.  I'd like to do that, but be honest with me if that's not what you want."
        Jeff looked at Andie, who smiled at her future mother-in-law.  "I'd love for you to do that for us," she said.  "Why didn't you think of that?" she asked Jeff.
        "I did, but there wasn't time to talk with Mom about it and get it done," he responded.  "I was going to ask you to marry me when I came to Chicago after Christmas, but even that wouldn't have been enough advance notice to Mom."
        "All right, I forgive you," Andie said with a grin, loving him.
        "I'm so happy about this," Mrs. Broman said.  "You'll have to let me keep your ring for a few days, Andie, but I'll FedEx the new setting to you within a week.  This design will be my top priority.  We can take a little longer for designing the wedding rings."
        "I'll give it to you before I leave," Andie said, holding out her hand and admiring the diamond.  "For now, I don't even want to take it off my finger."
        Jeff took Andie's hand and kissed it, enfolding it in his big paw.  She beamed at him.
        "Grandpa?" Kyle said inquiringly.
        "You're right, Kyle," Mr. Broman said, wiping his lips with a napkin and getting to his feet.  "Folks, if we're all finished with breakfast, let's get around the tree in the library.  Kyle is telling me it's time to unwrap those Christmas presents that Santa left last night.  Bring your coffee with you, if you like."
        All talking at once, the family and friends pushed back from the table and began to make their way to the library.  The temperature had dropped into the single digits during the night, and a fire blazed in the fireplace.  A smaller version of the Christmas tree in the hall, decorated entirely with white lights and dripping with tinfoil icicles, stood in one corner of the room with the real Christmas presents under it.  The kids were drawn to it immediately, and they sat on the floor and began to look for presents with their names on them.
        "Mike and Matt, will you do the honors and pick out presents for the boys to deliver?" Justice Broman asked.
        "Sure, Dad," Mike said.  "But you do know Matt doesn't read too well."
        Matt groaned at his partner's words and hunkered down on the floor beside the tree next to Mike.  "All right, guys," Matt said to the boys, "get ready to do something useful, you little elves, you."
        Matt and Mike began to call out the names on the presents as the boys scampered around delivering them.  Soon there was an impressive pile in front of everyone as they waited for the distribution to be completed.
        Two at a time, individuals started opening presents, starting with the eldest, Justice Broman and Jack Hagerty, and working their way down to the kids.  The youngsters received some clothes as gifts, but lots of various and sundry toys as well.  They especially liked a nerf ball set and accompanying bats they received from Matt and Mike.
        "Boys, there's one present for each of you from Grandpa and me that we already had shipped to Chicago," Mrs. Broman said finally.  "Here's a picture of them."  She held up pictures of three snazzy, two wheel mountain bikes, each in a different combination of colors.  The boys were immediately enamored of the pictures, and after a little prompting by Mike, went to their grandparents and gave them big hugs and kisses.
        Matt and Mike had spent generously to see that everyone they had brought from Chicago for the holiday received one especially nice gift from them along with some lesser gifts.   Stan and Chris had each received a gift certificate for an Armani suit and custom-made shirts and ties.  Linda had been astounded when she opened a box from Matt and Mike containing a diamond and ruby tennis bracelet which had been designed by Jane Broman.  Andie also received a gift from them designed by Mrs. Broman, a 24K gold necklace with delicate, intricate filigree on each heavy gold link.  Knowing well Mary Bradford's love of art, they gave her a beautiful painting which had recently been discovered in someone's attic somewhere, by American artist George Wesley Bellows from his Love of Winter series.  To get it, they had had to outbid an art museum in an art dealer's online auction.  Carole Maggliozzi received a gift certificate for a complete new home entertainment center, including a new plasma HDTV set, as did Jack and Judy Hagerty.
        Matt's gift to Mike was a complete set each of 18th and 19th century surgical instruments, extremely rare and in mint condition.  Mike had bought Matt a new, white Chevy Silverado truck, complete with motorcycle ramps.  It would be sitting in the garage by the time they arrived back in Chicago.  Meanwhile, Matt stared at the picture of the truck and couldn't believe his good fortune, because the fenders of his old truck were almost rusted off the body.  They gave Jeff a new Honda ST 1300 sport-tourer with ABS and all the bells and whistles, along with new leathers and helmets, and they went in with their parents to give Martha a spanking new, bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle.  Martha ran to the front door, and there it was, sitting in the driveway with a big, red ribbon and bow on it.  She was on cloud nine.  Mr. and Mrs. Broman and Jack and Judy Hagerty received an all expense paid, two-week trip to the Far East from Matt and Mike, anywhere over there they wanted to go.  The two couples were enamored of that part of the world.
        An hour and a half had passed by then, and everyone's breakfast was well on the way to being digested.  After more conversation around the fire, Matt began nagging the runners in the group to put on their running clothes and sweats so they could get some exercise.  Not content with that, he bugged the non-runners, including his mom and dad, to get their coats and boots on and take a walk down toward the front gate and back.  There was no resisting him, and soon everyone had piled out of the front door to do their thing, while Chris said he would stay with the kids in the library as they played with some of their new toys.
        On his way out, Matt looked in the door of the library.
        "Chris, I just had a thought," he said to his friend.  "Why don't you give Josh a call and just wish him a Merry Christmas.  I bet he'd really appreciate it.  You can use that phone over there on the desk if you want to."
        "Thanks, Matt," Chris said.  "That's a good idea.  I should have thought of that."  He stood and crutched his way over to the phone as Matt joined the others outside.
        Bright sunshine poured down on the earth from a cloudless sky, glinting off the pristine cover of new snow which had fallen during the night.  The runners decided to cut their distance for the day to 2 miles and only run down the driveway to the front gate and back to the house because the blacktop was plowed and dry, but the lawns were deep in snow.  Naturally, the guys had to get into a snowball fight before their run.
        Breakers was in his element, running around smelling things only he could detect, occasionally biting at the snow.  He and Jeff, for reasons only they knew, had a special relationship, and as the snowballs flew fast and furious, the dog ran to Jeff and jumped up into his arms.  As usual, Jeff waltzed him around in circles as Breakers gave him kisses.
        "Hey, dude," Mike said to Jeff, "you don't have something kinky and unnatural going on with our dog, do ya?"
        "Kinky, yes!" Jeff said.  "But it feels perfectly natural to us, doesn't it, boy?"  The dog kissed his face again.  "After the lights are out, it's him and me together all the way.  And after Andie's asleep, anything goes."
        Andie cracked up at this exchange.
        "Is Breakers a top or a bottom?" Mike asked.
        "He's versatile.  And what that boy can't do with his tongue hasn't been invented yet!!"
        "You're totally bent!" Mike said.
        "I know.  You taught me well while I was your sex slave in Chicago.  Andie knows she has to share me with Breakers.  She calls me 'Dog Breath' sometimes just to acknowledge the special relationship Breakers and I have."
        At that point Mike, Matt and Stan laughingly pelted Jeff unmercifully with snowballs.  Jeff put Breakers down, grabbed Andie's arm, and began running full out for the front gate with his buddy Breakers in hot pursuit.  The others fell in behind them.
        After the runners had returned to the house and showered, Matt went downstairs and laid claim to his dad for a talk.  They left the library and went into one corner of a large, formal sitting room across the hall, and sat down across from one another.
        "How's married life, son?" Justice Broman asked as they sat down.
        "If I say 'wonderful,' that doesn't really cover it.  Mike and I have never been happier.  I thank God every day that Mike was somehow able to forgive me for hurting him so badly when we split up.  Only real love on his part could overcome a wound like that.  I think I'm the luckiest person in the world to be married to Mike.  And I'll never forget what Father Howard and Father Rohm did to make that happen in the setting we wanted, either."
        "Nor will I.  I want to do something very, very nice for St. Stephen's and for the priests.  I'm still thinking about what that might be.  If you have any ideas, let me know."
        "I will."  Matt paused and looked at his dad intently.  "I hope you know how much you and Mom are loved by our Chicago gang, Dad," Matt told his father.  "Chris and Stan both want to claim you for parents."
        "Well, that's fine with me, son," Justice Broman said.  "That's a high compliment.  And I hope you're aware that you and Mike seem to have a knack for picking good people for your friends."
        "I don't know about that," Matt said.  "We're probably more lucky than skillful."
        "I don't think so.  We generally make the friends we deserve."
        Matt looked thoughtful.  "Maybe.  Y'know, some of the friends we've made are straight, and some are gay.  But no matter what their orientation is, and no matter how old they are, I think some of them have something in common.  The ones who didn't have good parents when they were growing up, or as in Chris' case, lost a dad in Viet Nam before Chris was born, are sometimes looking for parent substitutes because they didn't have a good experience the first time around.  Psychology 101, I guess, huh?  That's why they really want a connection with you and Mom.  It's just human nature, I guess.  They want to experience a positive parent-child or student-teacher relationship with people who are intelligent and good and kind and decent and trustworthy and loving.  You and Mom are all those things.  I guess that's why mentoring is such a powerful tool."
        Justice Broman looked pleased.
        "That's an good insight, Matt," his dad said.  "I agree with you.  Most of us try, consciously or unconsciously, to remedy what we feel are our deficiencies by learning from people we admire.  I include emotional learning in that.  And it's all good as long as the mentor understands that the day does come, hopefully, when the person he or she is mentoring is no longer in the role of a child or a student.  You have to know when it's appropriate to make the relationship one between equals.  In fact, that's the point of it all, don't you think?"
        "Absolutely."  Matt paused.  "Have you ever known someone that you admire totally, without reservation?" he asked.
        "Yes.  A few people.  Not many.  My dad, your grandfather, was one of them.  Your mother is another.  I think you and Mike and Jeff and Martha will qualify very well as you all become the finished products you're meant to be, and come into your own.  The people you've taken under your wing in Chicago are all on the right path as well.  That's part of the reason I wrote those notes to everybody last night.  Folks need to be told now and again how well they're doing and how much they mean to us."
        "Well, let me tell you something, then.  You're an incredibly generous person in every way, Dad.  Money is the least of your generosity.  I love you as your son, but in addition to that, I love and admire the person you are without qualification.  I can only hope you'll still have a few positive thoughts left about me when I tell you my ideas about what I want to do after I graduate from law school."
        "Thank you for saying that, Matt.  You know I love you, too.  As for my opinion of you, don't worry about that.  My regard for you can only grow.  But I have to admit, I have been curious about your plans."
        "Well, nothing's set in stone right now," Matt said.  "Actually, I'm looking for your advice."
        "Advice, I have!  In abundance.  More than you want, probably."
        "I doubt that.  Anyway, Mike and I had a long talk down on the beach in Chicago before we were married, and we shared a lot of things we hadn't talked about before.  I know well what the expected career path for any reasonably smart, well connected young attorney is:  clerk for a prominent judge, then enter a large, prestigious law firm, earn some respect and bring in some bucks, and then specialize so eventually they can't do without you.  By that time, a partnership is a sure thing.  And I think that's fine for those who want to do that.  I don't think I do, though."
        Justice Broman gazed at his son in silence, waiting for him to continue.
        "You remember the young boy I told you about who was killed in Chicago?  I first found him under the front stairs at Hospice in a cardboard box one afternoon after I had visited the sisters and was on my way home.  His name was Brandon.  I never found out his last name.  He had run away because his mother's boyfriend had been abusing him sexually, and at that point he was selling his body on the street to stay alive.  I bought him a meal and was going to take him home for the night, but he ditched me at the restaurant.  Later, Tony Angelo arranged with the morgue for me to look at the body of a young kid they'd found murdered and thrown in a dumpster.  It was Brandon, just as I'd feared.  Tony scoured all the missing person reports on kids from around the country, but didn't come up with anything.  So I bought a grave site and asked Father Howard to bury him from St. Stephen's Church.  Father Rohm insisted on celebrating the requiem mass for Brandon, and I found out later the reason he did was that he and Mrs. Rohm had a young son who got involved with drugs and life on the street as a teenager, and ran away, and they don't know where he is to this day.  They don't know whether he's dead or alive.
        "Long story short, Dad, I want to do two things.  First, I want to build a shelter, or maybe more than one, to supplement the work with kids that's already being done in Chicago, with an emphasis on serving gay kids.  I want them to have food and shelter and counseling, along with educational and vocational programs that will give them some hope in their lives for the future.  I want the mechanism for serving these kids to be highly personal and involve as little red tape as possible.  Second, I want to use my legal skills, not only on behalf of the kids, but for poor families who may not, for one reason or another, qualify for Legal Assistance.  Congress has made it as difficult as they can for Legal Assistance agencies working for poor people to file certain kinds of cases in the courts.  I'd like to change that, even though I know my efforts will just be a drop in the bucket compared to the need.
        "If I do these things, it means I will never follow in your footsteps, and most certainly won't ever find myself sitting on the Supreme Court.  I hope you know my reasons for taking a different path aren't because I don't admire you and what you're doing.  Everybody in this family is proud of you.  You bring so much skill and so many personal resources to the job, I don't know who could do it better.  But more than just skill and a great legal mind, you bring heart to the job.  You try to make the law serve human beings, not vice versa."  Matt smiled.  "Not all your colleagues have that gift, unfortunately.
        Do you have any thoughts about what I've said?" Matt asked his dad in conclusion.  "I'd really appreciate some feedback."
        Justice Broman cleared his throat and regarded his son warmly.  "Well, I'll get to the feedback, but first of all, I want to thank you for the high compliment you've given me for my work, because I really do want to serve the people of this country well.  But more than that, thank you for sharing your plans with me.  You're my firstborn son, so you've always occupied a special place in my heart.  Of course I'm proud of all my children, as I should be.  But you yourself have never disappointed me a day in your life, even back in your high school days when occasionally we had some differences of opinion over household and dating rules.  I think, no, I know, that you have tremendous gifts.  Everyone you touch in life emerges a little better for having had contact with you unless they're totally hopeless.  That's no commonplace gift, you know.  You and Mike are doing a terrific job nurturing your blood family and your extended family.  And in marrying Mike, you've shown you're not afraid to push the envelope when it comes to doing the right thing for yourself and for others.  I have tremendous respect for you, Matt, and the plans you've shared with me only confirm how much you deserve that respect.
        "I'm sure you know that all any parent can do for a child, or at least should do, is to equip that person with the basics--with love, so that the child can love others, with kindness that's reflected in his dealings with his fellow man, with courage guided by a sense of right and wrong, with learning so that what is hopefully a lifelong quest for knowledge and understanding can take place, and with one other thing that I've always thought was important for all of us--love for God and respect for His teachings.  I wish I could claim more responsibility for helping create all these wonderful attributes I see so clearly in you, but to be honest, you seem to have been born with many of them.  I've never had to worry much that you wouldn't be exactly the kind of person you should be.
        "What a parent should never do is preempt the decision-making of a mature son or daughter for selfish reasons.  Yes, a parent can sometimes feel that his own decisions in life are validated when an offspring follows in his footsteps in one respect or another.  But when that doesn't happen, unless the reasoning that leads to the child's decision is faulty, or the objectives being sought are flat-out wrong, then a parent should rejoice that the gifts he wanted for his child have been used and have borne fruit.  To do otherwise not only betrays the child, but the parent as well.
        "That being said, here's the feedback you wanted.  I like your plans very much, Matt.  I think they're consistent with the person you are, and you'll accomplish good things. No one can ask for more than that.  I would sound one note of caution.  You will need to screen the people you have working directly with the kids very carefully, including running a police check on them.  There are sexual predators out there who will jump at a chance to work in proximity to youngsters.  If you screen your applicants exhaustively, though, I think you'll be very much on the right track."
        "Thank you, Dad.  That means more to me than you can know.  Do you think I'm right about the problem facing poor people, and sometimes even middle class people, in accessing the courts?"
        "Absolutely.  Jurisprudence in the United States is heavily tilted in favor of property rights and the rights of those who have the wherewithal to pursue justice rather than human rights per se.  And most of my colleagues on the court would acknowledge this in their more lucid and honest moments.  By 'property rights,' I mean assets rather than just real property, of course.  Will a better system evolve over time?  I hope so.  But it does take time unless one puts his money on revolution, and the most effective revolutions are very destructive.  They breed the same hatreds you're trying to address in most instances.  Evolution, on the other hand, is much more energy efficient and effective.  Over time I would like to see the law address the issue of property and human rights in our country more evenhandedly.  And someone has to move cases which test such questions into the legal system.  That someone will be you and people like you.  Courts can't redress all the ills of our country single-handedly, but good cases, rightly decided, go hand in hand with sound, progressive legislative action."
        "I think that's true."
        "Now, as far as the financial resources you'll be needing for the shelters you're talking about, I think you can count on the Broman Foundation to be benevolent.  A number of people will be leaving the Foundation board this year.  I'm going to urge the board to appoint you and Mike and Jeff, and when she's 21, Martha, to join your mother and me and the Hagertys on the board.  I don't think you'll have any trouble securing substantial funds for your project.  And I'd be very surprised if Mike would not be interested as well when it comes to his own funds.  I don't know whether you know it or not, but Mike wants to merge the Berman and the Broman foundations and utilize the same board for both."
        Matt looked surprised.  "No, I didn't know that."
        "Well, anyway, as far as your project is concerned, money won't be the problem, Matt.  Devising and developing an organization that is creative and stays on task will be the ongoing problem, as it is with all organizations.  You're going to need a hands-on person to run things who will keep the bureaucracy energized and focused."
        "The bureaucracy?"
        "Yes.  Anytime you delegate decision-making and the implementation of those decisions to someone else, you begin to have a bureaucracy.  Big or little, they have a dynamic all their own, and you need to understand that.  If I may make a suggestion, as you move into your project, I'd urge you to give Stan a look when you're ready to hire an executive officer.  He should be finished with most of his formal education by then unless he wants to pursue graduate work.  He has what the educated elite often don't have--a world of practical experience in the school of hard knocks to guide his decision-making.  I think he's become quite an impressive person.
        "With respect to overall money management in your projects, you'd have to look pretty far to find anyone with better skills and instincts than Mike.  I know his time is at a premium right now, but try to utilize him to the extent you're able to.
        "Now, while we're talking, I want to raise another issue with you, and that's the issue of security," the jurist said.  "I'm talking about security both for your family and also for the youngsters who will reside in the facilities you're thinking about.  I know you think I'm obsessed with this, but in my opinion, it's a reasonable concern in today's world.  I think you and Mike and your three little boys are at risk.  And because you live together, that also puts Mary Bradford and Stan and Linda at risk.  You may well want to think about Chris for head of your security if his career as a police officer is indeed over.  If you think he's your guy, you also may want to send him for some specialized training to bring him up to speed on security issues and, for that matter, on terrorism.  You'll never be sorry if you surround yourself with people who care about you and Mike and your family personally."
        Matt sat back in his chair and grinned at his father.  "I'd have to say, Dad, you sure have smartened up since I was a kid!  I'm pretty amazed about what you know!"
        Justice Broman laughed.  "Yeah, right!  Maybe your hearing has just become more acute!"
        "Maybe.  Probably.  Listen, you've really given me some good ideas, and I promise I'll think over what you've said.  Now...enough of the serious stuff.  I have a story for you."
        "You know I'm always ready for a good story."
        "That's cool!  I usually have to hold Mike down before I can tell him my stories," Matt said with a grin, and launched into his joke.
        "A woman named Ethel is a bit of a demon in her motorized wheelchair and loves to charge around the nursing home taking corners on one wheel and getting up to maximum speed on the long corridors.  The poor woman is 'confused,' so the other residents tolerate her and some of the men actually join in.
        "One day, Ethel was speeding up one corridor when a door opened and Crazy Clarence stepped out with his arm outstretched.
        "'Stop!' he said in a firm voice. 'Do you have a license for that thing?'
        "Ethel fished around in her handbag and pulled out a Kit Kat wrapper and held it up to him.
        "'OK' he said, and away Ethel sped down the hall.
        "As she took the corner near the TV lounge on one wheel, Weird Harold popped out in front of her and shouted, 'Stop!  Do you have proof of insurance?'
        "Ethel dug into her handbag, pulled out a beer coaster and held it up to him.
        "Harold nodded and said, 'Carry on, ma'am.'
        "As Ethel neared the final corridor before the front door, Mad Malcolm stepped out in front of her, stark naked, and in an obvious state of arousal.
        "'Oh, no!!' Ethel protested, 'Not the breathalyzer test again!'"  
        Justice Broman roared, laughing until his face turned red.  Jane Broman came into the room, surveyed the two of them laughing together, and shook her head..
        "What's this, a joke fest?" she asked with a smile.
        "I think Matt got my sense of humor," Mr. Broman said as he tried to catch his breath.
        "No kidding?" his wife said.  "I can vouch for that!  But I thought you two were going to have a serious discussion."
        "We did, dear," the older man said, standing up and hugging his wife, still chuckling.  "We just finished."
        "Well, the timing's perfect, then.  Matt, the boys want to swim.  Do you want to go down to the pool with them?  I think Stan and Linda and Jeff and Andie want to go, too.  Maybe Mike as well, I don't know."
        "Swimming sounds good to me.  Sure, I'll go."
        "Good,"  Mrs. Broman said.  "Take Chris with you.  He can't swim, but I think he enjoys being with you guys."
        "OK, Mom," Matt said, getting to his feet.  "Dad, thank you for sitting down and talking with me.  I have a better idea about where I'm going now.  I appreciate the advice."
        Justice Broman pulled Matt into a hug, and kissed his cheek.  "No, Matt, thank you for being a great son!  I love you.  And I admire you more every day."
        Matt's eyes teared up.  "Listen, if there's anything good in me, it came from you two.  I love you both."  He kissed his mother, and left the room, heading for his bedroom to change into his swim suit.
        "You've always been so good with the kids, Matt," Jane Broman said.  "You seem to know just what to say to them."
        "Thank you, sweetheart, but I think we've each done our part.  To have you and the four kids and our three grandchildren and the whole Chicago branch of the family all healthy and happy and here with us this Christmas--well, life just doesn't get any better than this."  He embraced her and just held her in his arms for a long time in the big, silent room.
        *  *  *
        Matt took the stairs two at a time, ran down the hall to his and Mike's room, and burst in the door just as Mike was throwing off his clothes in favor of his swimming trunks.  Matt shut the door behind him.
        "My gosh, what a big, beautiful wiener you have, dude!" he told Mike, moving toward him, one hand outstretched to grab it.
        "You peeked, you perv!" Mike said.  "But thanks.  I take you at your word, since you're such a connoisseur of fine cocks and such."
        Matt hugged Mike before he could get his suit pulled up, and then reached around and squeezed his bare buttocks.
        "Nice ass, too.  Are you a model for med school ads or something?  Before and after.  Go in stupid and ugly with a flat butt and a small dick, come out with an M.D. knowing everything in the world, handsome, with a bubble butt and hung like a horse--you know, like your very own self."
        "You think you're funny, doncha?" Mike asked him, laughing despite himself.  "Why do you think you're cute enough to get away with saying shit like that to me, anyway?"  Their faces only inches apart, they stared into one another's eyes.
        "Because you told me I was cute.  So I'd let you have your way with me our last night in Chicago before we came over here," Matt said.  "And don't deny it, either."
        "That was just a moment of weakness," Mike responded with a grin.  "You should never hold a man to what he says when he's in the throes of passion."
        "Yeah, right!  If you mean when he's horny, I'd never be able to believe anything you say, ever!"
        "Oh, what the hell, just kiss me and shut up!" Mike said.  They kissed, giving each other lots of tongue.
        Matt reached down between them and took hold of Mike's cock, squeezing it as it rapidly engorged with blood.  "Too bad we can't harness this energy somehow," he told Mike.  "You could light up Detroit.  I could be rich."
        "You are rich, you asshole," Mike said, grinning.  "It would take more than a recession to break you, buddy."
        "I can't believe you called me an asshole!" Matt said, squeezing Mike's cock again.  "I'm gonna make you pay for that bigtime tonight."
        "You make all these promises..."
        "I know, but this is one promise I'm gonna keep!"  Matt let go of his partner, who pulled up his trunks over a very stiff dick.
        "OK.  Listen, Mike, can we take a minute and call Sister Angeline and Sister Catherine  and Tony and Marie Angelo before we swim?  I want to wish them a Merry Christmas."
        "Me, too!  Good idea, bro!"
        Matt retrieved his address book from his suitcase, and dialed up the Hospice in Chicago.  He knew that both sisters would be there visiting the patients on Christmas Day, trying to make it a good day for those who didn't have long to live.
        The sisters were delighted to hear from Matt and Mike.  The four of them talked for about 10 minutes, the sisters instructing Matt and Mike to convey their best wishes to the family.  They closed their conversation with Matt's disclosure to Angeline and Catherine that he had some exciting things to talk with them about when he and Mike returned to Chicago.
        Then Matt consulted his address book again, and dialed Tony and Marie Angelo's number.  No one answered and their answering machine kicked in, so Matt and Mike left their Christmas greetings on tape.
        They hung up the phone just as three sets of small knuckles knocked vigorously on their bedroom door.
        "Come on, Dads, let's go swimming!" a little voice said from the hall.
        Matt went to the door.  When he opened it, three small faces full of anticipation looked up at him, with Chris standing behind the boys on his crutches.
        "Did you guys find your suits and put them on all by yourselves?" Matt asked the kids.
        "Well," Kyle said, "Chris had to find them in the suitcases for us, but we put 'em on."
        "You guys and Chris are the coolest of the cool!  And you can quote me on that!" Matt said as he began stripping to put on his swimming trunks.
        *  *  *
        Many miles away from the Broman estate, someone was thinking non-stop about the Broman family, and Matt in particular, as he paced back and forth in his cold prison cell.  His mind was a river of dark thoughts.  Neil Anderson, not so lovingly nicknamed "the Weasel" by Matt back in his college days for his long nose, bad skin and vicious personality, had definitely not become a "beautiful person" inside or out since he had been sent to jail for kidnapping the eldest Broman son.
        During the period since he had been arrested, tried, convicted and incarcerated, Anderson had thought of little else but the way Matt had escaped from the clutches of his men at the old broom factory.  In his twisted mind, it was all Matt's fault that the good life he had planned for himself from a lucrative ransom had turned into a long, nightmarish stretch in jail.  Placed initially in the general population during his first month in prison, he had been initiated into the penal system by being the subject of a savage gang rape.  He had been sequestered from the general prison population since then, and although that move had insulated him from the more brutal aspects of prison life, he had had to bear the resulting loneliness.  Not that he had ever had that many friends on the outside.  Who needed them?
        He had had the frequent use of a computer during his imprisonment, and had experienced no difficulty in discovering via the internet where Matt had been residing since he had graduated college, started law school, and then moved to Chicago.  He even knew the Bromans' telephone number on Sheridan Road.
        Now his first big break since he had been imprisoned was coming his way.  He had been told the day before Christmas that as of the first of the year, he was going to be transferred to a less restrictive facility as a reward for "good behavior."  The real reason was to make room in his current facility for additional convicted drug users and addicts.  Anderson was pleased.  God bless the American criminal justice system for generally favoring punishment over treatment for rotten people with drug problems.
        *  *  *
        Father David Howard's plane was scheduled to arrive from Chicago the second day after Christmas at 1:30 p.m.  Matt and Mike were to pick him up at the airport, but first they planned to visit their grandmother and let her see the three boys.  Martha wanted to be on hand to meet Father David and visit her grandmother as well, so she decided to go with them.  After they had all eaten breakfast, Matt and Mike borrowed a car from their parents and seatbelted the three boys in on booster seats in the back.  Mike made sure he had a video copy of his and Matt's wedding with him that they had promised Grandma, and the six of them set out at about 9 a.m. for her assisted living facility.
        Matt drove down the long, curving driveway to the gate of the Broman estate and stopped the car.  Looking thoughtful, he sat there staring at the road.
        "What?" Mike asked.
        "You know, I think Jeff and Andie should come with us," he said.  "We don't know how long Grandma has, and we should probably take advantage of every chance we all have to see her."
        "You're right," Martha agreed.  "Go back to the house."
        Mike nodded, and Matt made a U-turn and headed back, where he jumped out of the car at the front door, leaving the motor running.  Going in and walking quickly across the entry hall, the sound of laughter and conversation from the dining room told him people were still sitting around drinking coffee and visiting.  Jeff and Andie hadn't left the room yet.
        "Did you forget something, Matt?" Justice Broman asked when he saw that his son was back.
        "Yep," he said, walking over behind Jeff's and Andie's chairs.  "I forgot these two characters.  Guys, would you do me a favor and come over with us to see Grandma?  It'll be a treat for her to see all of us, and she's gonna want to meet Andie when she finds out you're engaged, Jeff.  You can come back here when we leave her to go pick up Father David."
        Jeff pushed his chair back and stood up.  "Sure.  Sounds good.  Is that all right with you, Andie."
        "I'd like that," Andie said, rising.  "Do you have room in your car?" she asked Matt.
        "No, we're full up," Matt said.  "Ask nicely, though, and I bet Mom will let you borrow her new car instead of driving your truck.  Her car's a 'driving experience,' according to the ads.  You can follow us over."
        "OK.  Mommy?" Jeff asked, giving his mom puppy dog eyes.
        "The keys are on the pegboard in the closet by the front door, Jeff," Jane Broman said.  "Have fun."
        "Thanks," Jeff said, grinning.  "We'll be sure and let you know how fast she'll go.  Heh."
        Justice Broman gave him the evil eye.
        "Just get yourself and Andie home in one piece, buddy!" Mrs. Broman instructed.
        The three of them walked to the front door, and Jeff retrieved the keys after he and Andie had put on their jackets.  As they walked toward the garage, Jeff packed a snowball and pelted the windshield of the car Matt was driving just as the latter was getting into it, spraying his brother with cold snow.
        "You'll pay for that, Ratboy!" Matt yelled at his brother, pulling out his handkerchief and drying his face with it.
        Jeff shot him the bird as he and Andie continued toward the first bay of the garage.  Matt put the car he was driving in gear and moved slowly toward the front gate until Jeff had pulled in behind him.
        "Dad, when are we gonna make a snowman?" Matthew asked from the back seat as Matt pulled out on to the main road.
        "Maybe when we get home," Matt said.  "That'll be a good project for you guys later."
        It had finally stopped snowing the previous night, and the highway crews had worked long hours to clear the roads in time for daylight traffic.  It was smooth sailing on the expressways, and by 10:30 the two cars had pulled on to the spacious grounds of the facility where Grandma Hagerty was living.  The four Broman kids were excited at the prospect of seeing their grandmother.  She had been an important part of Matt's, Jeff's and Martha's lives as they had grown up, and they and Mike loved her dearly.  After they parked the car, Matt opened the trunk and pulled out Christmas presents selected to brighten the place she now called home.  Mike took a few presents to carry in, and also grabbed a few toys from the trunk for the boys to play with during the visit so they wouldn't get bored.
        The nine of them stopped at the front desk to get directions, and made their way to their grandmother's apartment.  The door was standing open, and they knocked and went in to find Emily Hagerty, surrounded by pillows, sitting in a big easy chair and dressed in a frilly, pink peignoir with pink slippers on her feet.  She looked very alert, her eyes bright.  The old lady stood up slowly from her chair all on her own, and she was soon engulfed in gentle hugs from her four grandchildren.
        "Grandma, I'd like you to meet Andie Parker," Jeff said after the initial greetings.  "Andie and I are going to be married."
        "Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Hagerty said.  "Come here, child," she said to Andie, and hugged her and kissed her.  "I'm so happy for you both!"
        "Thank you," Andie said with a big smile.  "Jeff has told me so much about you, and I'm really glad to meet you at last."
        Mrs. Hagerty beamed, and slowly sat back down in her chair.
        "You remember Matthew and Michael from when they were babies," Mike said to her.  "But I don't think you've met Kyle before.  Boys, this is your great-grandmother."
        "No, I haven't met Kyle.  But I've seen pictures of him.  Hello, young man.  And Matthew and Michael, how you've grown!"
        "Boys, Great-grandma is Grandma Broman's mother," Mike explained.  They didn't fully understand, but with a little prompting from Matt, the three boys submitted to their great-grandmother's hugs and kisses. They were a little tongue-tied and apprehensive because they had never met anyone of such advanced age before.  Introductions completed, the kids soon glommed on to the toys Mike had brought from the car and took them over into a corner to play.
        "Grandma, before I forget, I brought you the video of Matt's and my wedding that I promised you," Mike said.
        "Put it on top of the VCR, dear," Mrs. Hagerty said, pointing toward the corner.  "I'll watch it later.  Thank you for remembering, Mike."
        "Grandma, you look wonderful!" Martha said.  "How do you like living here?"
        "Well, it's not home, sweetheart, but it's a good place for me at this stage in my life, I think," the old lady said.  "It's time to begin letting go of 'things.'"
        So began a wonderful, upbeat visit, with her grandchildren constantly surprised at how sharp the old lady's mind was.  She had a good grasp of what was going on in the outside world, and they all had a good and far ranging talk.  Mrs. Hagerty questioned each of her visitors until she was satisfied that things were as they should be with each of them, and she opened her Christmas presents--little, practical items and some small, framed pictures of the family to make everyday life a little brighter for her.
        Several hours passed quickly during which Matt took several group shots with the digital camera he had borrowed from his parents, and then it was lunchtime for the residents.  Mike noticed that Grandma had begun to tire, so he and Matt put the boys' coats on them, and they all said their good-byes, accompanied by hugs and kisses, so that she could eat her lunch and get back into her routine.
        Matt looked back as they left the room, and a picture of the surprisingly spry little old lady sitting in her chair was permanently and indelibly etched in his mind.  For some reason he had a premonition that he might not see her again in this life, and tears began rolling silently down his cheeks.  Mike immediately sensed what his partner was feeling, and he put his arm around him and held him tight as they all walked out to their cars.
        Jeff and Andie headed back to the house after Matt and Mike transferred the kids and their booster seats to their car.  The boys wanted to get back to their new toys, and Matt needed the room in his car for the priest and his luggage.  Matt, Mike and Martha pointed their car toward the airport.
        They parked in short term parking at the airport.  Checking the display for arriving flights, they saw that Father David's plane was on time, so they walked as far as they could toward the gate at which he would be arriving.  Standing at the security check point, they waited and watched down the long corridor,  A few minutes later, the tall young priest, towering over most of the crowd, came into view.  Dressed in Levi's, a T-shirt and sneakers, he looked like a young guy on vacation, which is what he was.  Martha looked especially happy to see him, and his eyes lighted up when he spied them waiting for him.
        "Hey, gang!" he said as he joined them.  "Thanks for meeting me."  He hugged Martha, and then Matt and Mike.
        "Good to see you, Father.  How was your flight?" Mike asked as he took the priest's carry-on bag and they all started moving toward the luggage claim area.
        "Smooth as silk," the priest said.  He put an arm across Martha's shoulders, and gave her another little hug as they walked.  "How are you, Martha?"
        "I'm fine.  How was your Christmas?"
        "Busy; but good.  Father Rohm asked me to give you all his greetings, by the way."
        "Thank you.  We're glad you're here," Matt said, smiling.  "Did you make it down to see your parents all right?"
        David Howard groaned.  "Yes.  As usual, it was like visiting the anteroom of hell.  Sometimes I think they hate me.  They gave me lots of crap about being a priest, which is kind of par for the course for them."
        "I'm sorry," Matt said.  "It'll all even out, though, 'cause around our house we all worship priests.  Prepare to be idolized bigtime."
        They all laughed.
        "See," Mike said to David, "he's starting already.  He just can't help himself."
        "I know.  He'll be more subdued after I whip him at basketball and run his butt into the ground while I'm here," David said, laughing again.  "He was a wrestler, y'know, and that doesn't really qualify him as a true jock."
        "Yes!!" Mike said as he and David high-fived.  "I'm glad to find someone else who knows the score on that particular subject."
        "Shoot!" Matt said, pretending to look their visitor up and down.  "You Indiana University boys talk a good game, but you always fold under pressure.  That's cool, though, because I've always thought that humility was especially becoming to a clergyman."
        "Yeah, yeah.  If you can stop flapping your gums for a minute, my bag is coming around the corner, here."  They had reached the baggage retrieval point for David's flight just as his suitcase rounded the first bend on the carousel.  The priest stepped through the crowd quickly, and snatched it up just before it got away.
        Martha just took it all in, laughing at the guys as they bantered back and forth.  She was really glad to see David Howard again, and she knew he was going to fit in with their gang at the house really well.
        They left the terminal and found their car, stowing David Howard's bags in the trunk.  Mike sat in the front with Matt, and Martha and Father David in the back.
        They talked and listened to music on the way home. When they arrived back at the house and pulled up at the front door, Justice and Mrs. Broman, Jeff and Andie, and Stan and Linda went out to the car and greeted the new arrival while Chris stood in the doorway on his crutches.
        "Father, it's so good to see you again!"  Jane Broman gave the young priest a hug.  "Welcome!"
        "We're glad you could come, Father Howard," Justice Broman said, shaking hands with him.  "You need a little vacation after all those Christmas services, and we're going to see that you get it."
        "Thank you for having me," the young priest said.  "I've really been looking forward to seeing you all."  He shook hands with the other members of the welcoming committee as Matt opened the trunk of the car and removed the priest's two bags from it.  Matt took one bag, Mike the other, and the whole crowd moved inside.
        Chris, waiting at the door, extended his hand.  "Hello again, Father.  I'm Chris Russo.  We met at Matt's and Mike's wedding reception."
        "Of course, Chris.  Good to see you.  Did you have an accident since I saw you last?" the priest asked as he eyed the crutches and the cast on the policeman's arm.
        "It's a long story," Chris said.  "I'll tell you about it.  Fortunately, I'm healing up well."
        "Good.  We'll talk while I'm here."
        "Father David, Andie and I have some news for you."  Jeff proudly held up Andie's left hand for inspection.  The big diamond in her engagement ring sparkled.
        "Jeff!  Congratulations, man!" David said.  "And Andie!  This is wonderful news!"  He drew both of them into a hug.
        "Maybe we can have a few minutes of your time while you're here," Andie said.  "We'd like to talk to you about being married at St. Stephen's.  By you," she added.
        "We'll talk," the priest said.
        "Matt and Mike, why don't you show Father David to his room?" Mrs. Broman suggested.  "Father, when you come down, please join us in the library for a drink before dinner."
        "You're speaking my language," David Howard said, smiling.
        The three of them started up the winding staircase, the priest staring all the while at the monster Christmas tree in the hall as if he couldn't believe it.
        "Where in the world did you find that tree?" he asked.
        "Dad grows them right on the property, down by the river," Mike said.  "The first Christmas I was here, I nearly fell on my butt when I first came in the front door and saw it."
        Matt and Mike walked the priest to his room, where he opened his suitcase on a luggage rack and then used the bathroom.
        "Are we dressing for dinner?" David asked as he emerged, drying his hands and face on a towel.
        "No way, man!" Matt said.  "We do as little of that as possible around here."
        "Perfect!  This is my kind of place.  Thanks again for inviting me."
        The three of them went downstairs to the library and joined the rest of the family.  Justice Broman made David Howard a generous Stoli martini on the rocks with a twist.  The young priest started to get a little buzz on, and nibbled on sharp cheddar cheese and crackers.  He could feel himself beginning to relax as he talked with the family, sitting beside Martha on a couch.  David knew he was starting to have feelings for this young woman, who was pretty and smart, and as he was finding out, very witty.  She could hold her own quite well with any of the wise-ass boys in the family when it came to bantering back and forth.  David sat there contentedly, sipping his drink, enjoying the conversation, and watching the three little boys as they played enthusiastically with their new toys over by the Christmas tree.
        Jeff, playing the brat, caught his dad's eye and said, "A hundred and thirty."  When Justice Broman looked puzzled, Jeff pantomimed driving a car, and said it again.  Mr. Broman just shook his head, and then erupted into laughter.
        "Get over here, Jeff," his dad said.
        "What are ya gonna do?"
        "Just come over here."
        Jeff went cautiously over to his dad, who stood up and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
        "You're full of the dickens, but we love you anyway," the older man told him.
        Jeff laughed, kissed his dad in return, and went back to sitting by Andie.
        After about an hour, Branford announced that dinner was served, and the family and guests made their way to the dining room in clumps of two and three.  When they were all standing around the table, Justice Broman asked his wife, in her place at the foot of the table, to offer thanks.

            "Heavenly Father," she said in her calm, quiet voice, "You are our hope and strength, the giver of all good gifts.  We bless Your Name for the great joy You have given us in bringing us together this Christmas season.  You have filled us with Your plenty in a multitude of ways, Lord, and we are grateful.  We ask Your blessing on those who are dear to us and who are not with us today, that you will sustain them always in Your love and care.  The food we are about to receive is Your great gift as well, and we ask Your blessing upon it, upon those who prepared it, and upon us as we partake of it.  We offer our prayer through Christ our Lord."
            "Amen."

        Everyone sat down under the huge, crystal chandelier amid the flickering candles and gleaming cutlery, the men seating the ladies as Matt, Mike and Stan put the boys on booster chairs and pushed them up to the table.  The wait staff first served bowls of baked French onion soup with a delicious caramelized crust on it, followed by a fresh green salad as Branford himself poured an excellent Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand into the wine glasses.  The main course was roasted poussins with anchovy-mustard pan sauce, served by staff from huge, steaming platters.  Sweet potatoes and mashed regular potatoes along with string beans and cooked beets and cranberry sauce were in large bowls at strategic points around the table.  Dessert, after all had eaten the main course, was a Grand Marnier soufflé that was like a foretaste of heaven.
        Justice Broman was so pleased with the meal that when they were finished, he went into the kitchen and insisted that Mrs. Brighton and the cook come out for applause.  They received a generous dose of it.
        The evening passed quickly after they went back to the library, everybody's favorite room, as they all talked and the kids played with their toys.  Martha and David played monopoly with Stan and Linda.  Stan cleaned everybody's clock.
        By nine o'clock, Matt and Mike were so horny for each other they could hardly stand it.  Mike had to laugh to himself when he caught his partner staring at Mike's crotch from across the room.  He got the message.  After Stan and Linda promised they would see that Chris got upstairs in one piece, Matt and Mike collected the kids--it was already well past their bedtime--and said goodnight to everyone after kissing their mom and dad, and they went upstairs.
        They bathed the boys, put them in their PJ's, listened to their prayers, kissed them soundly, and put them in bed, with no time wasted.  The little guys were asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows.
        Practically running to their own room, they went in and locked the door behind them.  After cleaning their teeth, each stripped the other of his clothes.  Not surprisingly, they were both totally hard.
        "You have such a beautiful body, Mike.  It makes me want to make love to you until my dick falls off," Matt told him, starting to french his partner as they stood beside their bed and he squeezed Mike's dick in his hand.
        Mike laughed when they stopped kissing.  "Until your dick falls off?  That might be a little extreme, doncha think?" he asked.  "But I knew you were horny when I caught you downstairs using x-ray vision on my crotch."
        Matt laughed.  "You were right."
        First turning down the bed, the two of them climbed in eagerly.  After caressing one another and licking and nibbling each other in all the right places, they 69'd, side by side, ready to take the edge off their passion.  They ejaculated so quickly and voluminously that they couldn't swallow the juice fast enough despite their best efforts, and it ran down their faces into the sheets.  They held one another tenderly then, dozing for a few minutes.
        Recharged quickly, Matt awakened and began to rim Mike thoroughly, giving both of them much pleasure.  He then opened Mike up, using lube, first inserting one finger, then two, then three.  When Mike was dilated and ready, Matt put his partner's legs on his shoulders and entered him slowly until his pubes were against Mike's ass.  Matt began to thrust gently in and out, hitting the waiting prostate with each stroke, watching and loving that beautiful face looking up at him.
        Mike began to leak some precum each time Matt thrust into him, and it began to pool on his abs.  Matt leaned down in mid-thrust and licked it up greedily, scarcely pausing in his rhythm.  As minutes passed, Mike's need to ejaculate grew, and he urged Matt on in his work of love and pleasure by reaching up and pinching his nipples.  Matt eventually acceded, locking his back and thrusting ever more quickly in and out.  He finally came inside Mike with a deep groan just as Mike let fly.  Mike's cum first painted his own face before diminishing spurts marked his neck, his pecs, his abs.  Totally spent, Matt lay down on his partner's body, gasping for breath.  Slowly recovering, they lay there unmoving as Matt's dick softened and eventually fell away from his partner's body.
        After a few minutes, Mike rolled Matt off of him and went into the bathroom for warm, moistened hand towels with which he carefully cleaned first his lover and then himself.  Finished, he cast the towels aside, and climbed back into bed.  He thought Matt was sleeping, but he wasn't.
        "I love you, Mike."
        Then he was asleep.
        Mike lay beside Matt in happiness unsurpassed, gently nuzzling and kissing his partner's beautiful chest until he, too, fell into oblivion.
        
Part 5

        With the days of their vacation rolling by, Matt was determined to wring every bit of pleasure he could out of the time the Chicago gang had together in Pennsylvania.  The fourth morning after Christmas, after every one had eaten and had sat around the dining room table talking for awhile and digesting their food, he decided it was time to find out if Father Howard was as good a jock as his reputation suggested.  The weather was cold and clear, about 32̊ F, and the sun shone down brightly on the grounds of the Broman estate.
        He persuaded Mike, Stan, Linda, Andie, Martha, Jeff, and Father David to change into their running clothes and sweats.  Once outside, they did their stretches, and then they all ran two round trips to the front gate and back for a total of four miles.  That was just to get warmed up.  Matt and Mike located a basketball in one of the garages.  It was flat, so they inflated it with a tire pump.  Then they all hauled a basketball backboard and hoop on wheels out of another of the garage bays, stationing it in the driveway.  Marking the court boundaries with mounds of snow from the yard, they were preparing to choose up sides when Father David proposed that he take Linda, Martha and Andie for his team.  He said he would spot the opposing team 5 points of the 21 points they would need to win a game.  Matt, Mike, Stan and Jeff eagerly took the bait.
        "Father, it's gonna be personally painful for us to humiliate you," Matt said with a grin.  "But hold up, I'm gonna get Chris out here to referee from the sidelines in case your team does anything too outrageous.  Mike, would you get a chaise out of the garage?  I'll get Chris."
        Within a couple of minutes Chris had his Illinois State Police cap and his coat on and had crutched his way out of the house to the chair.  Matt wrapped him in a stadium blanket he had brought from the house so he wouldn't get chilled.
        "Cool hat, dude!" Jeff told the young cop.
        "Thanks.  Anybody who fouls during this game is busted.  All right, I'm thinking of a number between one and ten," Chris said.  "Pick one," he told Father David and Matt.
        The number was 10, and Matt was closest with an 8, so Stan from Matt's team took the ball out, fired it in to Jeff, and the game was underway.  Matt and Mike already knew that Martha was an excellent basketball player and aggressive as all get out, but they were unpleasantly surprised to find out that Andie and Linda, after they stole the ball from them a few times, were almost as good and equally as aggressive.
        But the monster player out there was David Howard.  He had been a forward on the first string of the Indiana University varsity basketball team two years running when they won conference titles.  His height, agility and ball handling ability left the guys' team frustrated, and all Martha, Linda and Andie really had to do was feed him the ball and it was a score.  The man didn't even have to drive on the basket if he didn't want to.  He could just stand anywhere on the court and launch, half the time without setting up, and all you heard was net.  The score see-sawed back and forth, with every point hard won, but as they played on and on, the priest's team won the last 3 out of 4 games despite the 5 point advantage Matt's team had at the start of each game.
        "Damn, you're good!" Matt acknowledged to the priest after they all finally called it quits, giving David's muscular ass a pat through his sweats, which by then were soaked with perspiration despite the cold.  "I take back everything bad I ever said about IU."
        David Howard threw an arm around Matt's neck affectionately and squeezed, pulling Matt toward him as they walked side by side toward the front door, forcing Matt to walk angled sideways.
        "Everybody did well!" David  insisted.  "Those were four good games!  Thanks.  I totally needed the exercise."
        "I thought that you, being a priest, would sacrifice winning so your opponents could feel good."  Matt simulated a whine, looking up slyly at his tall tormentor, who still had him in a necklock.
        "I did sacrifice, by helping my team win so you'd be humbled and closer to the Lord," David said, drawing a laugh from the members of both teams.
        "I think he gotcha there, Matt," Martha said, chortling.
        The players all went in and showered, and then congregated again in the library about a half-hour before lunch.  Matt, Mike, Stan and David sat on the floor in a circle in front of the fire while Martha and Linda and Jeff and Andie and Chris kept the little boys occupied around the Christmas tree.
        "Matt, have you decided how you want to approach the bullying problem at school when we get back?" David asked.
        "Not really," Matt admitted.  "I wanted to talk with you first.  Tell me a little about the principal.  Mike and I have met him, but I don't really know anything about him."
        "Well, I'll share what I know off the top of my head," the priest said.  "His name is Bob Fischer.  He's an Ed.D. who did his work at the University of Illinois at Champaign.  He looks to be about 30 years old, he's married, with one child and one on the way.  He's been skillful in working with the teachers, I think, and seems to set decent standards for academics.  The teachers like him and seem to respect him.  I've never had the chance to see how he handles conflict, but he seems to have the confidence of Father Rohm, who's the equivalent of his superintendent, and the Vestry, which serves in the same capacity as a school board on matters pertaining to the school.  That's about all I know.  He's always been pleasant to me."
        "It sounds as if he's somebody we can have a reasonable conversation with," Mike said.
        "I hope so," Matt said.
        "I'd like to come with you when you talk to him, if you'll let me," Father David said.
        "I'm not ruling that out, but I'm just worried that he might think we're ganging up on him," Matt said.  "Stan is our witness, so he has to be there, and Mike and I will both be there.  It might seem like four against one if you're there.  And besides, Father, you're a member of parish management, so Fischer might feel we went over his head right from the git-go.  Which of course is what I did when I called you up right away."
        "No, you didn't," Father David said.  "You just used me as a sounding board when you couldn't reach anybody at school.  But I get your point.  Maybe I'd better not be there.  Promise me you'll let me know right away how it goes, though.  This issue is going to be dealt with, I can tell you that."  He looked over pensively at the three little boys playing under the Christmas tree.  "I still get steamed every time I think about what happened."
        "You and me both, Father," Stan said.  "I know why those two little jerks did what they did.  I know their sickness well because I had it.  But it still tears me up inside to think about what happened to our little guys."
        Mike was sitting next to Stan, and he put his arm around him and gave him a quick hug without saying anything.
        "Let me ask you this," the priest said.  "What will be your objectives in your discussion?"
        Matt regarded him thoughtfully.  "Let me throw out a couple of things.  There certainly may be more.  First, we want to identify the two perps, not for punishment, but to see that they get some help.  I think that's important in light of what you told me about the negative life experiences facing bullies, David.  Second, we need to talk about a good prevention program to address the problem consistently throughout the whole school and for the long term.  Whatever program is selected, it should become a standard, recognized part of the curriculum, don't you think?"
        Heads nodded.
        "I've read about a bullying prevention program called 'Peaceful Schools' that the Menninger Foundation developed," Mike said.  "They've identified one of the most important keys to eliminating bullying--by turning bystanders into supporters for the victims.  That ups the ante for bullies by removing their passive support.  I don't think the program comes cheap, but it's apparently very effective, from what I read.  Maybe we can look into it."
        Heads nodded again.
        "What else?" Matt asked.
        The four of them sat there in silence, just thinking.
        "What about the issue of no adult supervision outside the building after classes let out?" Stan asked.
        "You're right about that, Stan," Mike agreed.  "Good supervision has the most immediate impact on the bullying problem in any school."
        "Good," Matt said.  "That's three.  Can anybody think of anything else we need to raise with him?"
        "I think we should try to get Fischer to agree to draft a formal, written policy on bullying that he can live with, run it by the teachers for their input and buy-in, and then take it to Father Rohm and the Vestry for adoption," Mike suggested.  "There shouldn't be any question in anyone's mind from here on in how bullying will be responded to.  It would be nice if he'd let us take a look at it before he submits it for final approval, but I suppose we can't insist on that."
        "I'm pretty sure Father Rohm would let you review it for your suggestions if Fischer won't agree to let you see it first," Father David said.
        "That would be cool," Matt said.  "Ya know, guys, I came across an interesting case from Wisconsin the other day having to do with bullying," Matt said
        The others looked at him inquiringly.
        "It was a 1997 case in federal district court, if I remember correctly," he said.  "A gay kid who was attending public school in Ashland, Wisconsin, underwent terrible bullying.  Investigative reports said he was terrorized practically every day.  His tormentors would catch him in the school bathrooms repeatedly and urinate on him, and one time even subjected him to a mock rape.  Finally, he was so badly beaten that he had to undergo surgery.  He dropped out of school more than once because his situation was so terrible, but at long last his parents filed suit in federal court against the school district with the help and support of the Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund.
        "The school district eventually settled for just short of $1 million in damages, basically for ignoring what was being done to this kid.  I mention it, not because our three boys were tormented because they're gay, but because schools have an affirmative duty to protect their students from being bullied because it affects their ability to get an education.  I think the court verdict could be construed as protecting more than just gay kids from bullying.  Victims should have and do have legal remedies. Costly legal remedies for the defendant school districts."
        The four young men fell silent for a minute, thinking about the terrible things the young boy in Wisconsin had endured.  Stan felt so bad about what had happened to the kid that he looked away so no one would see he had tears in his eyes.
        "That's one story I hope I don't have to repeat in the course of our discussion with Dr. Fischer," Matt finally said, breaking the silence.  "Threats of a lawsuit aren't the kind of persuasion we want to use at St. Stephen's to address our issue."  He paused.  "Well, I can't think of anything else at this point, can you?" Matt asked the other three.  They nodded in the negative.
        At that point, Branford came to the door of the library and announced that lunch was being served.  The four young men stood up and, following Mike' initiative, placed their hands on top of one another as if they were leaving a team huddle.  "Team!" they all said together quietly, smiling.  Then they collected the kids and Chris, and followed the crowd into the dining room.
        *  *  *
        Jane Broman was a woman on a mission.  She was excited about getting started on her latest project.
        She had eaten a leisurely and enjoyable breakfast with the family and their guests that fourth day after Christmas, and now it was time to get to work.  Marching down the upstairs hall of the house to her studio, in her mind she was already designing the new setting for Andie's engagement ring.  Then wedding rings for the young couple would come next.
        She was pleased for Jeff that he had met someone he really cared for.  His previous dating relationships, the ones she had been aware of, at any rate, had always been casual and low-key.  With those girls, there had never been even a hint of the feelings she had sensed were growing apace between Jeff and Andie when she had first met the young woman in Chicago during the week of Matt's and Mike's wedding.
        The suddenness of her middle child's engagement this Christmas had surprised her a little, but she wasn't troubled by it.  Matt and Mike had intimated to her and Justice Broman a long time ago that Andie had played a significant role in restoring Jeff to an even keel after his little bout with heroin abuse.  That was back when he'd been uptight about his life and a little mad at the world.  By any measure, Andie was a lovely young woman, emotionally generous and as smart as she was beautiful.  Jane had a good feeling about the relationship between these two young people, a relationship which would move to yet a new level when they married.
        She opened the door to her studio and snapped on the fluorescent lights high overhead as she stepped inside.  A wall of two-story windows facing the north admitted a flood of light, even on cloudy days such as this, but for her kind of work, the more light, the better.  To the casual eye, the place was in a shambles, but Jane Broman knew where everything was down to the smallest gemstone.
        She smiled.  She had practically had to arm wrestle Andie to get the engagement ring off her finger.   Now she placed it on a black velvet pad for a moment while she located a jeweler's loupe in a drawer.  Sitting down on a stool and positioning the loupe in the socket of her right eye as she had done thousands of times, she picked up the ring and examined the stone closely under a halogen desk lamp.  She knew Jeff had paid handsomely for the ring.  She was pleased when she confirmed that the stone was a flawless round diamond with good clarity in a fiery ideal cut.  It was in a prong setting on an 18K gold ring, and Mrs. Broman removed the stone from the ring and weighed it on her scales.  Slightly over one carat.  Jeff, my boy, you must love this girl a lot, she thought to herself.
        She placed the diamond and the ring itself in a small envelope, labeled it, and put it in a fireproof file drawer for safekeeping.  Taking a sharpened, soft #1 pencil from a coffee cup full of them, she laid a blank piece of paper on the desk and began sketching, trying to translate some of the wonderful spirit of this young woman into what would become a new emanation in platinum.
        If that translation went smoothly, Andie might well be wearing it when she left for Chicago instead of leaving it behind as they had originally planned.  She unconsciously hummed a tune from an operatic aria she had heard recently as she totally immersed herself in the work at which she was so skilled.  To be able to offer her craftsmanship as a gift to the woman Jeff loved meant so much to her.
        The first sketch pleased her, but she knew her concept still needed work.
        *  *  *
        That night Matt and Mike lay holding each other after they had made love.
        Earlier, Mike had put Matt on his back in their bed, and after good and prolonged soul kisses, had begun slowly running his tongue over Matt's defined chest, pausing to nibble and lick his nipples until they were engorged and sensitive.  Moving on down, he teased his partner's navel before returning briefly to his nipples and then moving to his armpits, which he had tongued repeatedly.  Then, ignoring his cock for the moment, he had begun licking his balls and the sensitive perineum behind it.  By that time Matt had been sighing appreciatively and his dick had hardened to its usual generous proportions.
        After softly kissing and licking the inside of Matt's thighs, Mike had then tongued his lover's penis as it lay hard and extended on his abdomen.  He had tasted the first hint of sweet precum leaking from the slit as he had circled the corona.  When his partner's dick had been glistening with saliva and pulsing with Matt's every heartbeat, he had deep-throated it, for a long time just holding the head of it deep in his throat where it had been spasmodically squeezed.
        "Oh, fuck yes!" Matt had said, tensing up with pleasure.
        Mike eventually had had to breathe, though, at which point he had pulled off Matt's cock altogether.  Gently raising his partner's legs, Mike had rolled him up to expose that beautiful jock ass with its hairless pucker, pink and begging for attention.  Teasingly, he had licked all around the now winking hole for some time before eventually laving it directly and then penetrating it with his tongue.  Kissing it, licking it, sucking it, stabbing it, Mike had had Matt groaning and twitching by then, badly wanting what he knew Mike had for him.
        When at last Matt had begun to beg openly to be penetrated, Mike had taken pity and reluctantly stopped rimming.  Putting Matt's muscular calves on his shoulders, he had applied just enough pressure to pop his erect dick past the sphincter muscle, and leaving it there for the moment, had lain down full length on his partner's body to steal yet another kiss while waiting for Matt's pucker to adjust to its welcome invader.
        Watching Matt's handsome face, Mike had slowly moved farther into him until he was home at last in the tight cocoon of his partner's ass.  Their eyes had locked on one another in the love and joy of their coupling.  Mike had begun to long-dick the beautiful man beneath him, smoothly, deliberately, wanting their fleshly union to be pleasurable as long as possible, not wanting it ever to end.  Adjusting his angle of penetration from time to time, Mike had returned again and again to the slant at which his cockhead best massaged Matt's prostate.  Matt's sweet precum had continued to dribble from his cock, puddling in the creases of his abs and his navel.  Mike eagerly scooped it up on his fingers periodically and consumed it.
        The sexual tension for both of them had built and then had waned and then built again as Mike had varied  the speed of his ministrations, deliberately lengthening this exhilarating testament to their love for one another.
        Eventually their passion had defied even the most pleasureful control, and Matt's cock had begun rocketing huge streams of his thick seed, hitting first his chin and then covering his chest with his essence even as he had felt Mike's sperm exploding and coating his insides.  Mike had eventually collapsed on top of his partner as they had panted for breath and begun to come down from their high.
        Now, perspiring, satiated and on the verge of drifting off to sleep, they were still enjoying their sticky embrace, the closeness of their bodies.  They were on their sides, facing one another.
        "I don't think I could love you any more than I do," Mike said softly to his partner, gently kissing his face and his neck and his chest still damp with the residue of their lovemaking.  "You've given me so much joy in my life, Matt.  Every day I have with you is a blessing, pure and simple.  Touching your body still thrills the hell out of me, even after all the years we've been lovers.  Sometimes I really hafta wonder what I've done to be so fortunate."
        "Mikey, you're the absolute love of my existence.  If I've ever done anything right, owning up to my true nature and re-asking you to be my partner in life is at the top of the list.  So many people have a lifelong struggle finding someone to love who will love 'em back.  And even then sometimes they seem to have to struggle to keep their relationship alive and healthy.  Gay, straight, it doesn't seem to matter.  It's a struggle.  And then there's you and me.  We're the most fortunate people I know in what we feel for each other.  I don't know why we've been exempted from so much of the struggle when it comes to maintaining our relationship, but we have.  So--I can expend all my energy on loving just you.  Only you, sweetboy."  Matt smiled and kissed Mike back gently on the lips, looking into his blue eyes, pulling Mike closer to him and then brushing his hair back off his forehead.
        "Well, there's only one explanation for our relationship.  It's low maintenance because you're so damn cute," Mike kidded his partner.  He put his nose in Matt's scalp and breathed in.  "And you smell so good."
        "There's that.  But you're too cute yourself to even hafta discuss it, bud.  Even your sweat is a turn-on.  Actually, though, I've concluded that the only explanation for our great relationship is the jokes we tell each other," Matt told him.
        "No!  You think so?" Mike asked, pretending to be aghast.
        "Yeah.  Wanna hear one before we go to sleep?"
        "It won't keep me awake, will it?"
        "Well, if it's that stimulating, we'll make love again.  Then we'll sleep for sure," Matt promised.
        "OK, let's hear it."
        "Three old ladies were sitting side by side in rocking chairs at their retirement home reminiscing about the days when they were keeping house and cooking.
        "The first old lady recalled shopping at the green grocer's and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny.
        "The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, and demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.
        "The third old lady remarked, 'I  can't hear a word you're saying, but I distinctly remember the gentleman you're talking about.'"  
        Mike grinned, and cupped Matt's basket.  "They must have been talking about you, cucumber boy!"
        Matt returned the favor.  "No, you, I think.  The man with the big onions!"
        That was all it took.  They both hardened again, and this time made love more deliberately with Matt joyfully topping.  Their coupling completed, they finally drifted off to sleep, holding one another, deeply content and now totally exhausted.
        The next morning they awakened early, long before breakfast.  After a quick shower together to wash away the remnants of their lovemaking, they threw on their jocks, sweats, knit caps, jackets and gloves in preparation for their run.  They felt so good when they got outside that they did three round trips to the front gate and back, for a total of 6 miles.
        When they went back in the house, all was still quiet.  Even Justice Broman, the earliest riser, wasn't up yet.  They showered together again, washing every nook and cranny of the other's body as they enjoyed doing, and after drying one another, lay down again in their bed wearing fresh undershorts.
        "Dad and I had a really good talk yesterday," Matt told his partner.  "He helped clarify my thinking in a couple of areas about the work we want to do with gay kids in Chicago."
        "What did he say?"
        "Well, one of the things he told me--and I hope you don't get a big head over this--heh--is that you are very, very sharp with finances.  I already knew that, of course.  He said that if you have the time, I should consult with you on money matters as the project moves ahead.  I know you're really busy with school, but I want to do that."
        "You know I want to be involved, fer sure," Mike said.
        "He assured me that the Broman Foundation board was likely to be very generous with capital funds for the project.  He wants to put you and me and Jeff and Martha on the board with him and Mom as some of the current members' terms expire.  He didn't mention it, but I think I might have to do a project proposal so the Foundation would have something for its records if they make me a grant.  By the way, why didn't you tell me you want to merge the Berman and the Broman Foundations?"
        "It's just a thought that popped into my mind when I was talking to Dad a few days before vacation.  Whaddaya think of the idea?" Mike asked.
        "I like it.  I hope you'll keep the Berman name in mind for part of the new Foundation name, though.  Your mom and dad set up the Berman Foundation, and their family name shouldn't be forgotten.  Maybe the new dealie can be called the 'Berman-Broman Foundation' or something like that."
        "See now, there's just one more example of why it's so easy for me to love you, babe.  You're such a good person.  With the exception of your 'joke gene,' of course.  That makes you pretty rotten sometimes."
        "Shut up about that!"  Matt silenced him momentarily with a kiss.
        "What else did Dad say?" Mike asked.
        "He's really impressed with Stan these days, and so am I.  He thinks that when we're looking around for a CEO for the work with runaways, we should think seriously about him if he doesn't have other plans.  Stan's a very compassionate guy, and he loves kids, but he doesn't flinch when it comes to facing difficult issues, either.  He has courage.  And now that I think about it, I'd sure trust Linda to head up the medical outreach for the organization.  She's gonna have her RN credential very soon now, I think, and if we pay for it, I'd hope she continues for her Master's in Nursing.  She's tough, too.  Look how professionally she handled Chris when he was having a difficult time of it.  I don't think she'd have a problem working with homeless kids, do you?"
        "No.  But don't you think it might be difficult to manage an organization run by good friends?  Could you fire one of them if it came down to that?"
        "Well, the point is, I'm not planning to manage the day-to-day stuff," Matt said.  "Dad thinks it's important to have people loyal to us and to our vision running things day to day if they're competent.  I think they will be, if they agree to be involved.  But to answer your question, if our goals weren't being met, yes, I could fire the party involved if performance couldn't be improved."
        "Yikes!  I hope I can stay on your good side," Mike said, deadpan.  "Was that all you talked about?"
        "No.  Dad thinks we will need to be thinking about security for the shelter, and also wants us to do something about security for the family.  He's probably right on both counts.  You know I've always resisted the idea that we need formal protection for any of us family members because it tends to be so constrictive, but maybe, given everything going on in the world right now, we should give it some serious consideration.  I'm thinking about the kids, especially.  I'd die if somebody did something to any of them.  He thinks we should send Chris for some additional training on security matters, and hire him to head up security for the family and for any shelters we develop."
        Mike sighed.  "He has a point.  I'll tell you what, though.  Make it a quid pro quo.  Tell him we'll move ahead on security for us when he does something about his and mom's security, here and in Washington.  He's an important man, and I worry about his being the target of some nut.  If you don't want to confront him about it, I'll do it.  As for Chris, I think he would be a great choice for head of security for us if he'll take it."
        "We won't know until we ask him," Matt said.  "I'm sure his decision will depend in part on whether he's forced to leave the State Police because of his hand.  As far as security for Dad and Mom is concerned, let's talk to them together."
        At that point, three little heads poked in the bedroom door and studied their dads, making sure they were awake.  Matthew finally knocked softly on the half open door.  Matt and Mike looked over at them.
        "Hey, guys," Mike said.  "Get your little selves over here!"
        That was all it took, and Matt and Mike soon had lots of seriously cute and very lively company in bed.
        "Matthew, thank you for knocking on the door before coming in," Matt praised their son.  "You're all such good boys when you're polite like that."
        Then they all began to talk at once about fun things they could do together that day.  Building a snowman in the front yard was definitely at the top of the list.
        *  *  *
        That night, the Very Rev. Curtis Pennington Rohm sat in his study at St. Stephen's Rectory in Chicago putting the finishing touches on his pastoral theology presentation for a special seminar the next day at the Episcopal seminary in Evanston.  He took a lot of satisfaction in his teaching, both there and at Northwestern University, where he taught psychology.  He felt that teaching both at the university and the graduate levels stimulated and improved the way he discharged his pastoral duties as Dean of the Central Chicago Deanery and Rector of St. Stephen's Church.
        His wife Alicia had just kissed him goodnight and gone to bed after preparing for the business class she was scheduled to teach the next day at the University of Chicago for another special holiday seminar.  Sometimes the holidays were the only time you could get alumni together without scheduling conflicts.
        The priest's younger son and daughter were in their bedrooms studying for when their own graduate school classes resumed, and his older son was out on a date with his fiancée'.
        As he did every night before he retired, the priest offered a silent prayer for his family, remembering especially his oldest boy, Curt, Jr., who had been missing for over ten years.  As time had passed and several searches had failed, Father Rohm had begun to lose hope that he would ever see his oldest son again.  The young man would be 27 years old now, if he was still alive.
        The priest was startled when the telephone beside his chair rang.  He picked it up, glancing at the clock.  It was 9:45 p.m., a little later than parishioners usually called.
        "Father Rohm?" a deep voice asked.  It sounded familiar to him, but he just couldn't place it.
        "Speaking."
        "This is Matthew Broman," the justice said.  "I hope I'm not calling too late."
        "Not at all.  How are you, sir?" the priest asked.
        "Very well, thank you.  "I hope your holidays have been good."
        "Excellent.  And yours?"
        "Just wonderful.  Thank you for giving Father Howard some time off.  We've thoroughly enjoyed having him here at the house with us."
        "I'm glad.  He's a hard worker," Father Rohm said.  "He deserves the vacation."
        "He's been teaching Matt and Mike and Jeff and their friends some humility out on the basketball court, I understand.  David looks like a pro out there," Mr. Broman said.
        "He had offers from at least a couple of professional teams when he graduated from Indiana.  But he had a rather inconvenient call to the priesthood to deal with, and accepted that challenge instead."
        "I'm glad for all our sakes that he did," the jurist said.  "I respect him so much.  He's a fine priest."
        "He is that," Father Rohm agreed.
        "Father, let me tell you why I called.  I have something to ask you, and I want you to tell me right out if this isn't something you'd like me to pursue."
        "Of course."
        "Matt has some exciting plans for services to runaway youngsters that he's going to be sharing with you when he gets back to Chicago.  In the course of our conversation on that subject he mentioned to me that you have a son who's been missing for some years."
        "That's true," the priest said sadly.
        "I've been looking for some way to express my gratitude to you personally and to St. Stephen's parish since Matt and Mike were married last Thanksgiving. You and Father Howard conferred a great blessing on them in that sacrament.  So, just for starters, if you would permit it, I'd like to retain a firm of private investigators with which I'm familiar, one that specializes in tracing lost people, to look for your boy.  I think you deserve some closure to what I'm sure is a very painful mystery."
        "Oh."  Father Rohm's throat tightened, and he couldn't speak for a moment.
        "I'm sorry for just springing that proposal on you out of the blue like that," Mr. Broman said, sensing the priest's pain.
        "I don't know what to say," Father Rohm said softly.  "All our previous efforts have come to naught."
        "I'll be so appreciative if you agree to try one more time."
        "The timing of your call amazes me," the priest said quietly.  "I was just sitting here thinking about Curt when the telephone rang."
        "Father, you've helped so many.  My family has been blessed by your ministry.  Now let us do something for you.  Please."
        The phone was silent for a moment.
        "Thank you, Justice Broman.  I'll be very grateful for anything you can find out.  I have to warn you, though, the trail is cold.  Curt has been gone for just over 10 years now."
        "I'm happy to undertake this on your behalf, Father.  Thank you.  The president of the firm I'm engaging is named Ron Evans, based in Philadelphia.  He'll personally be calling you and coming to meet with you.  For starters, though, can you send me a picture of Curt along with a physical description and brief résumé of the boy's life prior to his leaving?  I'll get them over to Ron before I return to Washington."
        "Yes, of course."
        "You hold a good thought about this endeavor, Father.  These folks are geniuses when it comes to finding lost people, and I'm not exaggerating."
        Justice Broman gave the priest his mailing address in Pennsylvania, and they concluded the call.
        Father Rohm sat in the stillness of his study for a long time, thinking and praying.  He especially gave thanks to God for Matthew J. Broman, Sr., and for the man's kindness to him and his family.
        *  *  *
        The next morning after their run and breakfast, Matt and Mike asked Chris to take a ride with them to a video store to get some Disney movies for the kids.  Chris wasn't hard to persuade, being full of pent up energy from not being able to exercise properly, and soon they were headed out the gate of the estate in Mrs. Broman's new Cadillac.  Mike was at the wheel and Chris was riding shotgun.  Matt leaned forward from the back seat to talk to Chris.
        "We kind of made up this little jaunt so we'd have a chance to talk with you in private," Matt told him as they pulled out of the main gate and on to the road.  "If you don't agree to what we're gonna ask you to do, we're gonna leave you in a ditch by the side of the road somewhere."
        "What, you lied to get me alone on false pretenses?!!!  This could be against Pennsylvania law, y'know!" Chris exclaimed with a grin.
        "Cool your badge, there, buddy!" Matt retorted in kind.  "This is all in a good cause."
        "Well, I guess I'm your prisoner.  Lay it on me," the young cop said.
        "Actually I want to be serious for a change, Chris.  We want to make you an offer of employment," Matt said.
        "You're kidding!"
        "Nope.  We're making plans to create a shelter in Chicago for runaway kids after I graduate from law school, with special services for gay runaways.  Part of the plan has to include security for the kids we'll be taking into the program.  Along with that, Dad has been on us for forever to look at the issue of security for our family.  So the job we have in mind for you would kind of be personal with respect to the family, but would include some important duties with respect to the new facility as well.  You would be supervising a fairly large security staff."
        Chris was quiet for a minute.  "I'm flattered you'd think of me for the position, Matt, but I don't think I have the knowledge or the expertise to do the kind of job you're gonna need done," Chris finally responded.
        "Maybe not right now," Matt said, "but if you agree to do this, we'd like to send you back to school for awhile to learn security top to bottom.  I don't have any doubts about your ability to pick up the information you'd need.  And speaking frankly, we want somebody we know and...well, somebody we love to handle this for us, somebody we know cares about us and the family, especially the kids."
        Chris looked down at his feet for a moment when Matt spoke of their affection for him, and his face turned solemn.
        "You make it pretty hard for me to say 'no' to you, especially when you tell me that you love me.  I never had any brothers, y'know, so you guys and your family and Aunt Carole are all I have.  So, as long as we're talking seriously right now, I want to thank you both for teaching me that people who are gay have as much right to happiness and acceptance in this world as anyone else.  I wasn't an easy sell, I know, but you've been patient and persistent, and you've opened my eyes and made me a better person just by being yourselves, and letting me get to know you.  You guys are the best of the best.  I can assure you that the 'old' Chris Russo never would have said openly what I'm going to say to two guys in my life, especially gay guys.  But it's important to me that you know I love both of you very, very much."
        Mike and Matt were quiet for a moment.
        "I don't think we quite expected to hear that, bro," Mike finally said, looking over at Chris.  "Thank you for saying that.  It means a lot to us.  You mean a lot to us."
        Matt nodded, still a little at loss for words.
        "As far as the job offer is concerned," Chris continued, "I want to think about it, but keeping you guys and the family safe, and helping keep young kids at a shelter safe, is something I think I could put my heart into.  It's a job I can see myself doing and enjoying."
        "We can't ask for more than that at this point," Matt said, regaining his voice.  "And in case you're wondering, the salary will be generous."
        "Uh huh," Chris said.  "I'm just curious, though.  Would you guys commit to following my instructions on security matters if I took the job?  You're both strong, independent type guys.  You're used to making your own decisions on everything."
        "We give you our word we'd do what you told us to do," Matt responded with a grin.  "Provided it wasn't too kinky."
        "Well, I'll factor that into my decision, then," Chris said, laughing.
        "Good," Matt said.  "We'd like you to continue to live with us, if you'd be comfortable doing that.  If Aunt Carole is lonely in her house and would want to, she can move in as well.  That's if Aunt Judy doesn't insist she go live with her and Uncle Jack.  I'm kidding, but they have really hit it off.  And when you find the right girl and want to settle down and have a family, Chris, we'll buy another condo in our building so you can have some privacy for your own family life, if that's what you'd want.  Speaking of condos, Mike, there's one on the floor right below us just going on the market.  Let's bid on it.  We don't know where Jeff and Andie will want to live at this point, but I don't think it would be a bad idea to buy both apartments below us, if we can.  If nothing else, real estate is a great investment right now."
        "You're right about that," Mike said.  "As you always are.  Heh.  Why don't we get together with Jeff and Andie when we get back and talk about their plans, and then we better have a little Chicago family meeting.  How does that sound?"
        "It sounds poy-fectly awesome!  Just like everything you say," Matt replied.
        Chris laughed.  "You two crack me up!"
        They arrived at the video store, and after 20 minutes or so of browsing, had chosen several GP movies for the kids and a couple of adventure flicks for the older kids--themselves.
        On the way home, Matt told Mike and Chris the story about the man who walked into a brothel and approached a beautiful Oriental courtesan.
        "'Is it true Asian women's vaginas are slit sideways?' the man asked.
        "'Why?' she responded. 'Are you a harmonica player?'"  
        Chris laughed, and even Mike had to join in.
        "All right, I have one for you," Chris said.  "A cop story, naturally.
        "A female police officer pulled over a man for DUI and said, 'You are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be held against you.'
        "The drunk appeared to be thinking for a moment.  He then slowly announced, 'Tits.' "  
        Chris and Mike high fived as the guys laughed their asses off.
        "It's hetero day on the joke farm," Matt quipped.
        When the three of them arrived back at the house and went in, they found most of the family in the library talking, as usual.   Jeff and Andie were lying in front of the fireplace in the throes of a minor make-out session, looking deeply into one another's eyes.
        "Cow eyes," Mike commented about them to Stan, who was sitting close by with Linda.
        "Better than cow pies!" Matt and Stan said together, breaking into laughter with Mike.
        Linda smacked Stan on the shoulder.  "Behave yourself!" she told him, trying not to laugh herself.
        Chris took all this in, not knowing what to think.
        "I s'pose you yokels think you're funny?" Jeff asked, surreptitiously giving them the finger so only the offenders and Chris saw it..
        "Well, the thought had occurred to us, yes," Matt admitted.
        "I don't let Lin look into my eyes like Andie's doing to you, Jeff," Stan said.
        "All right, I'll bite.  Why not?" Jeff asked.
        "'Cause that's how they read your inner-most thoughts," Stan said.  "And you oughta be ashamed of yourself, boy!"
        The young guys all laughed, even Father David.
        Jeff groaned and dropped his head to the floor.  "Stanley, you've been hanging out too long with M & M.  They're taken a nice guy like you used to be and corrupted you!"
        "You're probably right," Stan said.  "It's been a trip, though!  And I have to admit I've enjoyed every minute of it!"
        "Jeff and Andie, Matt and I need to talk to you," Mike said.  "On a serious subject, for a change."
        "No, we're not naming our first-born after you!" Andie said.
        "Oh, heck," Mike said.  "I was counting on your naming it 'Michael' if it was a boy, and 'Michaela' if it was a girl.  Well, that ends that fantasy."
        "You do have a rich fantasy life, Mike," Matt interjected.  "I should share with the group some of the stuff you've told me."
        "That might be a little racy for the general public, doncha think?" Stan said.  "I mean, the one you told me where Mike and the chimpanzee..." Stan's voice trailed off into silence amid general laughter.
        "Seriously, though, we do want to talk to you about some stuff," Matt said to Jeff and Andie.
        "Here?" Jeff asked, yawning and stretching lazily in the warmth of the fire.
        "No, let's go down to the small sitting room," Matt said.
        Jeff stood and put a hand down to help Andie up.  She grasped it and hauled herself to her feet, and the four of them excused themselves and walked down the hall to a little jewel of a room at the front of the house, with leaded glass windows overlooking the front lawn.  Oil paintings by early American artists adorned the walls, and a loveseat and several overstuffed chairs provided seating amid strategically placed antique tables and lamps.  Jeff and Andie claimed the loveseat and Matt and Mike pulled chairs closer.
        "Mike and I were talking earlier on the way to the video store," Matt started the conversation.  "We want to fill you in on some of our plans for after I graduate from law school.  In a nutshell, I'm going to try to increase services in Chicago to runaway kids, especially gay kids, by building a shelter or maybe more than one. There will be lots of good programming for those who live there.  We haven't talked to Stan and Linda about it yet, but we're thinking about asking them to be involved in running our facility or facilities.  Also, Dad wants us to hire somebody for security for the family and security for the shelter, and we're trying to persuade Chris to head up a security team.
        "Anyway," Matt continued, "we realized that we don't know what your plans are for after you guys are married.  Andie, you're going to have another year in school at Northwestern unless you transfer somewhere else.  Jeff, I don't know whether you've decided what you're gonna do after you graduate.  So--we wanted to invite you guys to live with us if that's something that you think would work out.  For as long as you want, I mean, not just a year.
        "We'll understand perfectly if you feel you want more privacy than our situation would afford," Matt went on.  "But we're thinking about buying a condo on the floor beneath ours, and maybe connecting the apartments some way with an internal stairway.  So it wouldn't be as if you'd be stuck in one bedroom if you did want to live with us but wanted more room.  We just wanted you to know what we're thinking about so you could talk things over.  We won't be offended or anything if you want to do something else.  It goes without saying that we love you both no matter where you want to live."
        Andie and Jeff looked at each other and smiled, and then over at Matt and Mike.
        "You guys are incredibly generous," Andie said.  "I hope you grasp how much I love this family.  Jeff and I have talked about our situation, and believe it or not, we were going to ask you if we could live with you, at least for awhile."
        Mike clapped his hands.  "Excellent!!  I'd really have missed you if you'd moved somewhere else!  Andie, Jeff helped me keep going through some very bad times for me, so..."  Mike's emotions overcame him, and he stopped talking.
        "Helping each other out has been a two-way street for all of us," Jeff said quietly.  "You guys really saved my life when I was into some bad shit. You're both smart-asses, but I love you so much.  So if your hearts are big enough to take us in, then we're gonna take you up on your offer."
        "You two are so good together!" Matt said to the young couple.  "And you found each other out of the billions of people on this earth and fell in love, just like Mike and I did.  As Mary always says, 'You're a blessing!'  So, you've made us very happy today.  Jeff, do you know what you're gonna do after graduation?"
        "Yeah.  I'm negotiating with the Chicago Cubs and the Pittsburgh Pirates right now to try out for their farm systems this coming Spring.  If I make the cut, that means being out of town a lot.  That's another reason I want us to be living with you guys, so Andie will be with family while she finishes up her last year in school and I'm gone."
        "Jeff, dude, not the CUBS!!!" Mike said reproachfully.  "Tell me its not true."
        "Hey, they need me," Jeff laughed.  "I can help them win."
        "For them to win, you'd have to be the Messiah!" Matt said.
        "I'm feeling my special powers even as we speak," Jeff said with a grin.  "Hey, I know that trying to get into the majors is probably a long shot, but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't give it a shot.  We'll see if I've got what it takes."
        "In or out of the majors, you've definitely got what it takes, bro," Mike said.  "I think you're totally doing the right thing, though, following your dream."
        "Do Mom and Dad know?" Matt asked Jeff.
        "No.  I'm gonna tell 'em before I go back to school.  So I'd appreciate it if you don't say anything about it."
        "You got it, bro," Matt said.  "Thanks for sharing your plans.  And it's gonna be great having you guys making your home with us.  Thanks for that, too."
        The four of them stood and had themselves a Broman family hug, forehead to forehead.  Jeff and Andie exchanged kisses with Matt and Mike, and they all went back to the library.
        Mike was pumped from Matt's and his discussion with Jeff and Andie, and so he rousted the younger set out of their comfortable chairs to change and go for a swim before lunch, making sure that Chris was included even though he couldn't go in the water.  Mike was so persuasive that even Justice and Mrs. Broman changed into swim suits and went with them to enjoy the pool.  The kids loved having their grandma and grandpa swimming with them, and showed off every trick in the water that they knew.
        *  *  *
        The dirty, gray bus marked "Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Department of Corrections" sped down the icy, narrow highway, filled with prisoners who were being transferred from a maximum security facility to a medium security one.  It was getting late, and the afternoon light was just beginning to fade.  The driver was a man with 20 years experience on the job, and he had never seen it fail.  The transferring facility never worried about the clock, and was invariably late loading the prisoners, dressed in their washed-out gray uniforms with "DOC" in bright orange letters on the back, into the bus.  That meant that he would be late for dinner--again.  So the driver was moving down the road faster than he should have been, albeit through sparse traffic.
        And the driver had another gripe, too.  He had no state police escort as he was supposed to have, because the trooper assigned to the duty had been tied up with a bad traffic accident, so the squad car just hadn't shown up.  Basically, nothing was going right for the man, and he was thoroughly pissed off.
        They were humming along the highway down in a hollow with modest, snow covered hills on each side of the road when suddenly, out of nowhere, a snowmobile with two people aboard exploded off the hillside on the left and into the headlights, right in front of the bus.  The driver slammed on the brakes, causing the bus to begin to fishtail on the slick ice.  It first struck the moving snowmobile a glancing blow and then, totally out of control and by then perpendicular to the road, began rolling over repeatedly.  The prisoners and their guards were slammed again and again against the sides, roof and floor of their moving cage, wrecking bloody carnage until the bus finally came to rest on its roof.  An eerie silence prevailed as the wheels on the vehicle continued to spin.
        At first no one inside the bus moved.  Neil Anderson, "the Weasel," regained consciousness slowly, feeling the beginnings a bad headache.  He began moving his arms and legs.  All his appendages appeared to be intact and uninjured.  He cautiously moved into a sitting position and looked around him.  In the dim light he saw that the heavy steel mesh which had separated the rear section of the bus where the prisoners rode from the guards' section had been flattened.  The ravaged bodies around him remained inert, unmoving.  A guard with one leg twisted grotesquely behind him and blood seeping from a head wound lay nearby.  The man didn't appear to be breathing.
        Anderson nudged the guard cautiously, with no response.  Moving at a snail's pace, he removed a bunch of keys still attached to the man's belt, and after trying several, found the right one and unlocked the manacles from his wrists and ankles.  Gathering his strength, he knocked out the remnants of a broken window with the mesh torn off, and inched out into the pavement.  It was cold.  He went back into the bus and laboriously stripped the nearest guard down to his underwear, removed his own prison clothes, and changed into the dark blue uniform.  The guard's clothes were warmer.  And he now had a gun and a badge.
        Crawling out through the window again, he stood and looked around.  The snowmobile, with two human forms nearby, lay in the ditch on its side.  The headlight was still on.  He walked over to it and with an effort managed to right it.  Pushing a button labeled "Start," the motor fired up immediately.  He looked the vehicle over quickly and saw no major damage, only a few pieces of broken plastic and scratches on the vinyl seats.
        Anderson had never driven such a machine before, but he knew he had only minutes to get away from the crash site.  Making sure that his newly acquired pistol was stuck firmly under his belt, he climbed aboard the machine and rotated the right handlebar, gunning the engine.  Obediently, the snowmobile moved out of the ditch as Anderson steered it back up the hill from whence it had originally come.  Silence soon enveloped the desolate scene again, the complement of prisoners on the wrecked bus now short by one.

Part 6

        Sunday was the last full day of vacation before the Chicago contingent had to fly back to Chicago.  Matt and Mike were both feeling renewed from the time they had spent with their mom and dad and their kids and most of the other people they cared most about in this world.
        His batteries thoroughly recharged at this point, Matt had the runners in the house up early for their run.  He figured that would leave plenty of time for everyone to shower and get ready for mid-morning mass at church.  Chris didn't get a pass because his broken arm and leg were still healing.  Oh, no.  Matt had rousted him out of his nice, warm bed as well, and made him accompany them on the run, riding the ATV.
        They all elected once again to run back and forth between the front gate and the house rather than over the lawns because the snow was still too deep.  Once they got going, Matt decided to test Father David a bit by gradually increasing the pace as the miles mounted up, but it seemed to have little effect.  David just smiled at him, and comfortably met whatever pace Matt set.  So did everyone else, for that matter.  Matt felt good that all these members of his extended family who paced him as they swept along were so fit and so willing to put the effort into maintaining their bodies.
        Old St. Paul's was only moderately crowded when the family arrived later that morning for church.  As they knelt to say their prayers before mass began, both Matt and Mike offered thanks for the wonderful days they had had with their family and friends during their time in Pennsylvania..
        There had apparently been a screwup on the schedule for altar servers, because the deacon, already dressed in an alb with his white stole over his left shoulder, came out of the sacristy and walked down the center aisle of the church.  Clearly he was reconnoitering for someone he could press into service.  Deacon Morris had been a fixture in the parish for years, and had trained Matt to serve at the altar too many years ago to count.
        Matt and Mike had just finished their prayers and sat back in their pew when Mr. Morris walked into the empty pew behind them and put his hand on Matt's shoulder.
        "Matt, will you and Mike serve at the altar this morning?  Neither of the two people who were scheduled to serve showed up."
        "I'm pretty rusty," Matt responded.  "It's been awhile, but we'll give it a try, won't we, Mike?"
        Mike looked at him as if he were crazy.  "We will?" he asked.
        "Come on, dude, let's hit it," Matt said to his brother with a grin, giving him a little shot to the ribs with his elbow.  "It's like riding a bicycle.  You never forget."
        Mike sighed and shook his head dolefully, but got up and followed Matt and the deacon back to the sacristy.  The rector, already vested in his alb, stole and chasuble, greeted them cordially and thanked them for filling in.  After the deacon found red cassocks and white surplices that fit them, Matt and Mike took candlestick lighters, fired them up, and moving out to the high altar together, bowed, and ascended the steps to light the two tall candles on it.
        Matthew, Michael and Kyle spotted their dads at the altar lighting the candles right away from where they were sitting.  Kyle silently pointed at them as they accomplished their task, looking at his grandfather for confirmation.  Justice Broman gave the three boys a smile and nodded "yes" to them.
        The candles now glowing softly, Matt and Mike retreated to the sacristy, where the priest, deacon and the two young men offered the initial ritual prayers together before going into the sanctuary to begin the mass.
        Their duties as servers flooded back into Matt's and Mike's minds as the mass progressed.  They did the job with no discernible errors, even though Mike had never served at the altar in an Episcopal church before, only in his Roman Catholic parish when he was a boy.
        Partners in life, partners at the altar, Mike thought to himself about Matt and him as they carried out their duties.  Their movements seemed to be naturally and effortlessly synchronized.
        "Good job, guys," the priest whispered to them after the offertory, washing his fingers as Matt poured water over them into a silver bowl held by Mike.  The priest dried his hands on a small towel he took from off Mike's arm.  The servers bowed to the celebrant, and he bowed back, and the mass continued smoothly toward its conclusion.  After the priest and deacon had communicated themselves, they gave communion to Matt and Mike, and then went to the altar rail and began to distribute communion to the faithful.
        Their duties completed for the moment, Matt and Mike stood in the sanctuary at a right angle to the congregation, facing the freestanding altar.  They listened as the two clergymen and two lay officiants proceeded down the altar rail at a good pace, the priest and deacon distributing the consecrated hosts and the laymen  handling the chalice.  "The Body of Christ, the bread of heaven."  "The Blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."  The words of administration blended with the soft coughs and rustling of the people as they came forward to make their communions and with the sound of the pipe organ as it resumed playing softly in the background.
        A men and boys choir was singing that morning, and Matt listened intently.  He recalled the last time he had heard a men and boys choir sing in church, at the Cathedral in Hartford when he had been on trial.  Now, as then, the young boys' voices soared on the high notes, testifying to an innocence soon to be encroached upon by impending manhood.
        Mike went into a reverie of his own as he thought back to the first time he had ever served at the altar.  His mother had been very proud of him that day, and had insisted on taking his picture before he removed his vestments.  His dad had been out of town on business, as usual.  He wondered idly what had happened to that picture.
        Although the servers at the altar weren't supposed to watch the communicants as they received communion, out of the corner of his eye Mike saw his family and friends come forward, making the sign of the cross before receiving the sacrament.  Matthew, Michael and Kyle mimicked their elders and made the sign of the cross, too, as the priest blessed them, tracing a cross on their foreheads before moving on.
        Father David, dressed casually like the rest of the young people, was there at the rail as well.  The young priest appeared to be, well, "joyful."  That was the only word Mike could think of to describe his demeanor as he received the host on his tongue and then a sip of wine from the chalice.  Mike thanked God yet again for the courage that this man, now a good friend, had shown in marrying him and Matt at St. Stephen's back in Chicago.
        *  *  *
        The call came in during the middle of Sunday dinner, several hours after church.  Justice Broman excused himself and left the table after Branford whispered something in his ear.  He took the call in the library, thinking that it might be something important, perhaps having to do with a petition for a stay of execution from the 9th Circuit, which was his particular geographical area of responsibility as a Supreme Court justice.
        "Is this Matthew J. Broman, Jr.?" the voice on the line asked.
        "No, this is his father, Matthew J. Broman, Sr.  He's here, though.  Please hang on while I get him.  May I say who's calling?"
        "This is Arthur Halverson.  I'm with the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections," the man said.
        The jurist went back to the door of the dining room and caught Matt's eye.  Matt put down napkin, excused himself and followed his father back to the library after the latter told him he had a telephone call.
        "Who is it?" Matt asked his father softly before picking up the receiver.
        "It's an 'Arthur Halverson' from the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections.  He asked specifically for you."
        Looking mystified, Matt picked up the receiver, his father continuing to stand at his side.
        "This is Matthew Broman, Jr."
        "Mr. Broman, this is Arthur Halverson of the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections.  I apologize for bothering you on a Sunday, but we wanted to notify you as quickly as possible.  Neil Anderson escaped custody yesterday afternoon as a result of an accident as he was being moved from one facility to another.  His records show you as the person who was victimized by Anderson.  I want you to know that every effort is being made to recapture this man, but at this time we don't know his whereabouts.  He apparently has a badge and a firearm which he took from a guard at the accident site.  I don't have to tell you how dangerous this person is.  We believe he murdered a farm family in the vicinity of where the accident occurred, and took the victims' cash and ID's with him when he left.  I want to advise you to take every precaution."
        Matt's face went white, and he lost his voice for a moment.  Justice Broman looked concerned.
        "Th-thank you, Mr. Halverson," Matt said finally.  "I appreciate your call.  Will you keep me informed how your hunt is progressing?"
        "Yes, I will.  Can I reach you at this number over the next few days?"
        "No, sir.  I'll be returning home to Chicago tomorrow.  You can reach me there."  Matt gave him the number at the condo along with his cell phone number, and took down Halverson's number at the DOC.  Thanking the man again, he hung up and collapsed in a chair at the desk.
        "That wasn't good news, I take it," Mr. Broman said quietly, searching his son's face.
        "No.  Neil Anderson, the guy who kidnapped me when I was at UPenn, has escaped custody.  He's apparently armed, and they recommend taking every precaution.  They think he murdered some people not long after he escaped from custody."
        "Oh, no!" Justice Broman groaned, lapsing into silence for a moment.  "I'm going to close the front gate.  That's not a solution, but it's a start."
        Justice Broman left the library and went into a small room off the hall at the front of the house.  Inside there was a console with a microphone and the monitor to a remote camera which was focused on the front gates, then standing open.  Pushing a button, he watched the monitor as the massive gates swung shut slowly and locked in their closed position.  Then he went back to Matt and sat down across from him as Matt began verbally reliving some of the highlights, or rather, "lowlights," of his horrendous experience as a kidnap victim.  His father listened silently and patiently.
        Within a few minutes Mike, looking concerned, poked his head into the library and, seeing the stricken look on Matt's face,  joined them, putting an arm around his partner.
        *  *  *
        When dinner was over, Father Howard and Chris Russo left the dining room at the same time.  Everyone was heading for the library.
        "Chris," the young priest said, "I've been trying to get a few minutes alone with you since I got here.  Are you busy right now?  I'd like to get to know you a little better, and this may be our last chance to get together before we leave tomorrow."
        "You're right, Father.  Let's find a spot.  I think there's a nice little room down the hall, here."
        They headed for the small sitting room at the front of the house, Chris being slowed down as usual by his crutches.  Entering the elegant little room, they each took an easy chair and angled it toward the other.
        "I can't get over what a beautiful place the Bromans have here," Father David said, looking around the room.  "It represents a way of life that seems to be passing away pretty fast.  Not so much physically--lots of rich people in this country have big properties--but the quality of life as it's lived here is disappearing, you know, the spirit of the people here..."
        "Yes, I know exactly what you mean," Chris responded.  "This family and this property fit together well, don't they?  I'm sure you know more about how families tend to live today than I do, but I've never met a family like this one before.  They amaze me."
        "You can tell a lot about people by the way they treat those who are 'inferior' to them, at least as the world would see it.  The people who work for the Bromans know their jobs and carry them out perfectly, but everybody under this roof, certainly including the servants, acts as if they're all good and respected friends.  At least that's the sense I get.  Not everyone has that kind of capacity for friendship."
        "I've felt that," Chris said.  "I think a lot of it comes down to Justice and Mrs. Broman's basic regard for human beings.  The two of them certainly have their rules and their standards, but they just seem to have enough affection for everybody in their lives and in their kids' lives.  Pretty unusual."
        "Yep.  I hear that!  Listen, I've been wanting to ask you how you got so banged up?"
        "I was on patrol on the Eisenhower Expressway one night, and a guy I pulled over for excessive speed shot me when I approached the car.  I'm pretty lucky to sitting here right now, to tell you the truth."
        The priest groaned.  "He obviously got you in the arm and the leg.  Anywhere else?"
        "Yes.  One in the head, and one in the gut.  Those were serious, especially the head wound.  The doctors weren't sure I was ever going to regain consciousness, or so I'm told.  I've never been all that religious, Father, and I'm not proud of that.  But I think that the prayers of the people who care about me, including Matt and Mike, really helped me turn the corner.  Some of my buddies in the State Police told me that Matt and Mike and Captain Angelo were at the hospital half the night after I was shot.  They said that Matt or Mike, I'm not sure which one, offered a prayer for me in the waiting room that was--well--powerful, I guess you'd say.  How do you repay someone for giving you a gift like that?"
        "You can't, really," Father David said.  "Just remember that their gift to you was given out of their own gift of faith, and let it go at that.  Are you healing up all right?"
        "Pretty much.  But the neurologist told me I'm likely to have some residual weakness is my left hand.  I probably won't be able to pass the physical to resume working for the State Police.  So I'm thinking about a new career at this point."
        "How do you feel about that?"
        "I'm disappointed.  I've had this dream of being a police officer since my last two years in high school, and of course my college degree is in criminal justice.  Mike and Matt moved me into their condo while I recuperated, y'know, because my Aunt Carole had just started to get some relief from chronic arthritis and couldn't really handle an invalid.  I got pretty depressed when I found out I was going to have some degree of disability.  Eventually, Matt and I had a 'meeting of the minds,' shall we say, and I got a better grip on reality.  It hasn't been an easy road for me, but to be honest, I don't know what would have happened to me if it weren't for Mary and Linda and Stan and Matt and Mike and those three great kids.  They've kind of restored me, if ya know what I mean.  I'm a lucky guy.  A very lucky guy."
        "Well, God love ya, Chris!" the priest said sincerely.  "Just remember everybody feels pretty lucky to have you for a friend, too.  Don't think it's all one-sided.  Any idea what you may want to do if the door at the State Police closes?"
        "Matt and Mike have talked to me about a job with them.  Security for the family, and for a project they're thinking about.  So I have options, and that kind of cheers me up."
        "Options are good," the priest said with a smile.
        "Yes, they are.  May I ask you something?"
        "Sure."
        "Can I become an Episcopalian?"
        "Well," Father David said slowly, "the short answer is 'Yes,' but just out of curiosity, why would you want to do that?  You're a Roman Catholic, aren't you?"
        "Yes."
        "Why, then?  The Roman Catholic and the Anglican traditions share the same theological and world views on so many things.  Why would you want to make a change at this point in your life?" the priest asked.
        "It isn't that the Catholic Church has pissed me off or anything--er, please excuse the expression, Father.  I've tried to be a pretty good Catholic boy, if not very active in recent years.  But as I've gotten to know Mike and Matt, and begun to get some perspective on the issue of homosexuality, among other things, I've started to question some of the Roman Church's teachings.  Seriously question them.  And frankly, I admire what good Christians Mike and Matt are."
        "I do, too.  You have to understand, though, that the basic Anglican tradition is mostly Western Catholic in its origins.  Our history and traditions, and those of Rome, have played off against one another for centuries now in kind of a creative tension.  We Anglicans are probably a little more flexible on some stuff.  On the issue of gays, I don't want you to think that the Episcopal Church is totally progressive in its thinking, though.  Not by any means.  Father Rohm's views and my own views on this subject are way out there in front of most of our fellow clergy's.  I guess you could say that both of us are 'respectfully restive' when it comes to following tradition.  We think that Christianity isn't primarily a religion of 'No's, although there are some few of those.  But it's essentially a religion that says 'Yes' to people's legitimate hopes and aspirations, and we need to affirm that again and again.  Anyway, we have a long battle ahead of us when it comes to providing a full ministry to gay people, just to cite one area of contention.  I'd urge you not to make any sudden changes as far as your spiritual home is concerned.  You need to look at what you're doing rationally and understand fully what you're getting into."
        "Well, that just makes me respect you all the more for saying that, Father.  Thank you.  You're a good priest.  And I promise I won't do anything without giving it a lot of thought."
        "I think that's the right thing to do.  And by the way, you are aware, aren't you, that if you convert you'll have to spend no less than 2 hours every day in prayer like all Episcopalians do," Father David said, deadpan.
        Chris' face registered something between shock and disbelief, and he stared at David until the priest lost it, breaking into laughter.
        "You had me going!" Chris said, himself starting to laugh.  "You're too slick!  Now I owe ya one!"
        "I'm sorry, Chris, I just couldn't resist.  I shouldn't do that.  Not everybody has a sense of humor like you do.  And there's certainly nothing wrong with praying for 2 hours at a time, in case that appeals to you."
        Just then Mike popped his head in the door.
        "Sorry to interrupt, guys.  But Dad would like to talk to everyone in the library for a minute," he said.
        Father David and Chris nodded to each other, still smiling, to mark the end of their conversation.  Then the priest pulled Chris up out of his chair on to his good leg and drew him into a hug.  "Hang in," the priest said quietly, and handed him his crutches.  They followed Mike out into the hall and down to the library, where everybody awaited them.
        Justice Broman was standing to one side of the fireplace.  After looking at Matt and receiving a barely perceptible nod in return, he cleared his throat and began to speak quietly to everyone.
        "The last thing I want to do is to put a damper on what has been a marvelous holiday with all of you.  But I need to make you aware that Matt just received a telephone call from the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections, telling him that a man named Neil Anderson escaped from custody late yesterday afternoon after a DOC bus had an accident.  For those of you who don't know it, Neil Anderson kidnapped Matt for ransom when he was in college.  Anderson received a sentence of 25 years to life for what he did.  I should add that the only reason Matt is here with us today, in my opinion, is that Mike rented a helicopter all on his own to search for the van that was used in the abduction.  He found that van from the air, and directed the police to the site.  The helicopter picked Matt off the roof of the abandoned factory where he'd been held.  This was just after he had been grazed in the leg by a bullet fired by one of the kidnappers as he attempted to escape.
        "I'm telling you all this because we'll be tightening security here on the estate immediately.  I've closed the front gate.  I'll be calling in a private security firm to patrol the grounds with dogs tonight, and I'm going to ask for a State Police escort for your cars when you go to the airport tomorrow.
        "I do hope all this won't diminish for you what I hope has been a good celebration of the holidays, folks," Mr. Broman concluded.  "But I think you're all entitled to know what's going on.  Chris, I'd like to get together with you and Matt and Mike sometime tonight to discuss the situation in Chicago."
        "Yes, sir," Chris said as Matt and Mike nodded their heads.
        "I'll be sitting in with you as well, Matthew," Jane Broman told her husband firmly, looking concerned.
        "Of course, dear," the justice said.
        The jurist went and sat down as everybody began talking quietly among themselves.
        *  *  *
        As soon as he could break away, Matt went up to his and Mike's bedroom and fired up the computer and printer.  Taking the memory stick out of the digital camera he had used over the days of their vacation, and slotting it into the computer, he began calling up pictures and printing copies of them he thought the family and their friends might want as mementos of their holiday together.
        Before many minutes had passed, Mike had followed his partner upstairs and was standing behind Matt as he edited and printed the snapshots.  Bending down, Mike put his arms around Matt from behind and gave him a squeeze, kissing him on top of the head and then beginning to knead his shoulders and neck.
        "Ah-h-h-h," Matt gasped appreciatively.  "That feels really good!  Thanks."
        "I love ya, Matt," Mike said, continuing to dig his thumbs and fingers into the knots in Matt's neck.  "The news about the Weasel has you all tensed up.  Please don't be worried about that asshole.  They're gonna catch the scumbag before he gets far.  He didn't have any luck with you the first time around, and he won't this time, either."
        "I'm not worried about me.  I'm worried about you and the kids and everybody else we care about.  What if..."
        "You're gonna make yourself crazy with the 'what-if's,'" Mike interrupted his partner in mid sentence.  "Let the rest of us do the worrying for change, will ya?"
        Matt sighed.  "I'll try.  You know, detachment isn't my strong suit."
        "Yeah."  Mike leaned down and kissed his partner on the neck.  "Why doncha take a break and lie down on the bed with me for a few minutes.  I'll give you a good massage if you do."
        Matt tilted his head straight back and looked up at Mike.  "What are ya gonna massage?"
        "Only the body parts approved by the American Masseur's Association.  For now."
        "Dude, you got yourself a deal!"
        "Good."  Mike walked over and closed and locked their bedroom door.  "Get naked," he told Matt with a grin as he moved back toward the bed after a short detour to the bathroom to grab a large bath towel.
        "You're such a horndog!" Matt said.  "And don't think I don't love ya for it, either."  He sat on the side of the bed and began removing his sneakers and white socks.
        "You've taught me all I know about horndoggery," Mike countered modestly.  "I was only an amateur at it when I met you."
        "Well, I saw the seeds of greatness in you, even back then," Matt said, continuing to strip.  "I knew you had what it takes to be a world class horndog, not just a mediocre, everyday, garden variety one.  And you've never disappointed me."
        "'When the student is ready, the teacher appears,'" Mike said, grinning.  "The Buddhists are right about that."
        Mike stood next to his partner watching as Matt pulled off his T-shirt and slid his 501's down to his ankles and off, leaving him only in his gleaming white jockey shorts.  Lord, how he did love this man's body, starting with the V shape of it as it tapered down from those broad shoulders to his small waist.  His eyes caressed Matt's smooth, beautifully defined chest with its square, prominent pecs sporting big nipples in the center of dark, quarter sized aureoles, and then scoped out the sixpack abs that had lost none of their lean, corrugated ripples since college, and then focused on the bubble butt that transitioned into meaty, muscular thighs, strong calves and big feet.  And then, of course, there was the fine, blemish free skin that covered the man's entire body.  He was a picture.
        The jockies softly encased Matt's basket, and Mike reached over and gently cupped his crotch.
        "Hey!" Matt said.  "I thought..."
        "Fuck the Masseur's Association," Mike interrupted.  "I lied.  All your body parts are fair game."
        "You're not gonna give me a massage?"
        "No, I am.  But my hands and other appendages might wander a bit every now and then in their appointed rounds, that's all.  Lose the jockeys."  Mike spread the bath towel out on the bed and Matt obediently dropped his shorts to the floor and lay face down.  "Your bod is perfect, bro," Mike said.  "I can't get enough of it."
        "Ditto," Matt said.  "Lose the clothes, buddy.  I wanna feel some skin on skin while you work your magic."
        Mike smiled and did as he was told, stripping to reveal his beautiful, long-muscled, swimmer's body with his long, thick cock at half mast--par for the course whenever he gazed at a naked Matt for more than 10 seconds at a time.
        Mike straddled his partner just below the latter's ass and laid his dick along his crack.  Bending down, he gently kissed Matt's back several times.  Then, reaching over to the bedside table, he removed a bottle of body oil which was being fast depleted by frequent use.  Kind man that he was, he warmed some of the fluid in his hands before slathering Matt's neck and shoulders with it.  Matt began to sigh and utter soft groans as Mike started using his strong fingers and the heel of his palms to bite deeply into his partner's knotted flesh.
        "You're like a god to me," Matt told his partner, causing Mike to break up and stop working.
        "Shut up, or I can't do this right," he said, laughing.
        " 'K.  But I can't help myself."
        Mike continued his labor of love, gradually moving down Matt's body.  When he was finished with his partner's buttocks, he parted them and gave him a quick lick on his rosebud.  He heard Matt catch his breath.
        "What?" Mike asked innocently.
        "Hmmm.  You know what."
        "You're imagining things."
        "I don't think so," Matt murmured, fast being overcome by languor.
        Mike just smiled, slipping off the end of the bed and standing on the floor to work on Matt's legs and feet.  He pulled Matt closer to him by his feet.
        When Mike had finished Matt's backside, he rolled him over, planting himself on top of his lover's pelvis.  Matt was still sporting one very tumescent dick.  Mike was hard as well, with a bead of precum gracing his slit.
        "I see your prostate is already firing up for action," Matt said, removing the drop from Mike's dick on the index finger of one hand and bringing it to his lips.  It tasted sweet, as always.
        Mike warmed more body oil and then dropped his hands to his partner's shoulders and began massaging again.  "Precum doesn't come from the prostate," he said conversationally as he continued working on Matt's neck and chest and arms.
        "You're lyin'," Matt said, grinning.
        "No, I'm not.  Everybody thinks it does, but it doesn't."
        "Enlighten me then, O Great One!"
        "It's produced by two little internal glands on either side of the penis at its base.  'Penis'--that's 'dick' to you, dude.  Anyway, they're called the Cowper's gland, and they secrete the precum," Mike said.
        "What's precum for, then, other than to taste good and lube you up?" Matt asked with a 'gee whiz' look on his face.
        "It neutralizes the uric acid in the urethra so that sperm in the seminal fluid don't get killed when a fine looking boy like you ejaculates.  Precum is alkaline.  That's why it tastes sweet."
        "I knew that takin' you off the farm and sending you to the big city to get an 'edumacation' would come back to bite me in the ass," Matt said, reaching up and pulling Mike's head down for a kiss.
        "Funny you should mention that.  Ass-biting is part of our free, friendly service," Mike responded.  "Nip nibbling, too," he added, giving each of Matt's nipples a gentle bite before resuming the massage.
        By the time Mike had finished his work, Matt was totally relaxed except for his cock, which lay hard and ready on his abs, pulsing, pointing straight up toward his head.  Mike was rock hard, too.  So, lying on their sides, they treated themselves to a leisurely, very leisurely, sixty-nine that put a stop to all conversation for a good half hour as they teased one another to a final, juicy, satisfying, mutual orgasm.
        Weasel or no Weasel, life is good, Mike thought to himself as he turned himself around and clasped Matt's warm, glowing body to his own.  Before they knew what hit them, they had drifted off into contented sleep, both face down on their bed.
        *  *  *
        Jeff, Andie, Martha and Father David put on their own jackets and caps after winterizing Matthew, Michael and Kyle, and they all went for a walk in the mid-afternoon while many of their holiday companions were taking a nap.  There were perhaps two hours of daylight remaining as the seven of them began walking away from the house toward the front gate.  The adults were walking, that is.  The boys were running around in circles and blazing new trails through the snow on the lawn.  Occasionally a snowball would fly through the air, but the boys were only targeting one another.
        Jeff held Andie's hand, plunging both of their hands into one of the warm, deep pockets of his UPenn athletic jacket.  There were no words exchanged at first as the four adults ambled along, just enjoying the fading sunshine and one another's company.
        Jeff finally broke the silence.
        "Thanks for coming over here to be with us for the holidays, Father.  It's meant a lot to all of us.  My dad thinks you walk on water, y'know," he said.  "So do Matt and Mike."
        "As long as the water's ankle deep, I can handle it," the priest said.  "Much deeper, and I have to swim like everybody else."
        Jeff looked at him and smiled.  "Well, you're part of the equation for us now."
        "What?"
        "You're part of what makes life work for us.  For all of us.  You're a good friend."
        Father David was moved, and uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
        "Well," he said finally, "it's been a real treat to be here with people who care about one another so deeply.  I. . .I'm leading a pretty lonely life right now, partly because I'm a priest and I need to be disciplined in my friendships for the sake of the parish.  I'm cautious about the friends I make.  But it's so-o-o great to take off my collar for a few days and let down my reserve with people who are trustworthy and won't hold it against me if I make a fool of myself by doing or saying something really stupid.  I don't get to relax like that very often."
        Martha smiled up at him and took his hand.
        "I wanted to let you know how Andie and I feel," Jeff said, "because we're going to be living with Matt and Mike after I graduate and Andie and I marry.  We want you to be a key part of our lives, if you think that's possible."
        "Of course it's possible," David said.  "And nothing will make me happier.  I need to be around people on more of a personal level, especially people more my own age.  I know that.  I've missed it."
        "You can be sure that we'll always honor your office, Father," Jeff said.  "But we'd also like you to know we love you as a human being."  Jeff looked down at his sneakers and smiled as they walked along.  "I had to learn from Mom and Dad and Andie and Matt and Mike and Martha how to say just what I mean when it comes to loving the people in my life.  Instead of remaining the stoic, unemotional jock all my days, that is."
        Jeff and Father David high-fived just as snowballs pasted both of them, along with Martha.  The three kids saw the results of their handiwork, and giggling, dashed farther into the yard to avoid retribution.
        Jeff wasn't going to let that pass.  He dropped Andie's hand and zoomed toward the three kids, who scattered, each in a different direction.
        "Commere, you little worms!"
        "No-o-o," the boys screamed.
        The three kids were always up for roughhousing with their Uncle Jeff.   He chased them down one at a time, gathering them up as he went, and when he had all three of the boys in his arms, he fell on his back into the deep snow holding them, and began rolling over and over.  The big kid and the three little kids were soon covered with snow from head to toe.  Matthew, Michael and Kyle were shrieking with joy by the time Jeff thought they'd had enough and let them go.  Father David, Andie and Martha stood on the driveway watching the fun, and when Jeff rejoined them, Andie brushed the snow off his face, hair and clothes.  They all resumed their walk.
        "I can't get enough of those kids," Jeff said, panting a little from the exertion.  "I love 'em head to toe."
        "I think the feeling just might be mutual," Andie said, grinning at Jeff.
        "So, Jeff, do you know what you're gonna do after you graduate?" David asked.
        "Yes.  I'm working on getting into professional baseball.  I have meetings coming up with scouts from the Cubs' and the Pirates' farm teams, so hold a good thought for me.  But if you will, keep my plans quiet until I've told Mom and Dad about it tonight, all right?"
        "That's excellent!" the priest said.  "I won't say anything.  Please help the Cubs, Jeff," he added pleadingly.  "Their season this last year was so pitiful!  Sometimes I think they're even beyond prayer, and that's saying a lot!"
        "If you pray for me to make the majors in the Cubs organization, I'll get you free season tickets!" Jeff negotiated, looking slyly at David out of the corner of his eye.  "In perpetuity!"
        "Done!" David said.  "No problemo.  I can be bought."
        They were about 100 yards from the front gate when they noticed a line of cars, including a county sheriff's car, waiting outside to enter the estate.  One man at the gate was talking into the intercom to the house, and a moment later the gates swung open ponderously.  Cars drove in bearing the legend and logo of a Philadelphia security firm on their doors, with the sheriff's car bringing up the rear.  When the cars were all inside the gates and were moving slowly toward the house, the gates shut and locked themselves again.  The four adults waved to the man in the lead car as the three boys stopped playing in the snow and watched the cavalcade curiously.  Several of the cars had what appeared to be large German Shepherds in a rear, caged area of the vehicles.
        "Dad's been busy, I see," Martha said, shaking her head.  "It's sad when it comes down to this, isn't it?" she asked, gesturing at the slowly moving cars.
        David put his arm around her.  "Better too much than too little when it comes to staying safe, I guess."
        Jeff got the kids turned around, and they all started back toward the house.
        When they arrived at the front door, Jeff made two snowballs before he went in.  Not even removing his coat and moving fast through the front hall, he threaded his way through knots of security people. The guards, after gawking at the huge Christmas tree, were being shepherded into the large sitting room to be given their assignments for the evening patrol.  Jeff ran up the stairs to the second floor and went down the hall to Matt's and Mike's room, where he listened intently at the door.
        All was silent.  The door was locked, but Jeff shoved the leather-punch on his pocket knife into a small hole beside the latching mechanism and popped the lock.  Opening the door quietly, he saw his brothers sleeping in the nude on their stomachs on top of the bed, their faces turned toward one another.  This was going to be better than he'd thought--his original plan had merely been to throw the snowballs at them.
        He moved slowly over toward Matt and Mike on the bed, treading softly.  Taking a deep breath, he smooshed  the now melting snow simultaneously into their butt cracks, working it in well.  Then he took off at a dead run to the predictable sounds of screaming, cursing and threats of revenge.  Lots of bad words were in the air, but taking two steps at a time, Jeff just laughed his ass off all the way down the stairs.  This little caper is the stuff of which legends are made, he thought to himself.  Well, family legends, anyway.
        *  *  *
        At the very moment that her two oldest sons were being violated in quite an unusual manner by her youngest son, Jane Broman was in her workshop putting the final touches to Andie's new engagement ring.  Jane had been working on it for at least several hours every day since Andie had entrusted the original to her, and the finished product was ready at last.  It was a testament to all the love and skill which had gone into making it.
        Mrs. Broman didn't know when she had ever been so pleased with something she had designed and created.  She put the ring on her own finger and admired it.  It was wide.  Its most prominent feature, along with the diamond itself, was a platinum band which swooped around the finger three times, fused together at the edge of each emanation in a shallow groove.  The original diamond was now in a bezel setting on the middle coil.  Smaller diamonds also had been set in the top of the middle coil to either side of the major stone, as if to keep the large diamond company.  The ring, when at rest, seemed to be in perpetual motion, swirling around and around the wearer's finger with the main diamond somehow magically suspended on top.
        It's stunning, Mrs. Broman said to herself.  And if Andie doesn't like it, I'll kill her with my bare hands.
        She needn't have worried.  When Jane gave Andie the ring before dinner, the young woman uncharacteristically burst into tears after she had put the finished product on her ring finger and perceived the full impact of what had been wrought for her.  Andie clung first to her future mother-in-law, weeping, and then to Jeff, her emotions speaking volumes about her gratitude.  So much for this girl's reserved, cool fascade, Jeff realized.  The heart rules, and that's not all bad.
        Before gathering everyone for supper in the dining room, Mrs. Broman had the staff set up some card tables and chairs and a supper buffet in the large hallway so that the security staff and the lone deputy sheriff could come inside a few at a time to eat and use the bathrooms.  Breakers had parked himself at the base of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the small sitting room, and was intently monitoring the men with their dogs out on the front lawn.
        Jeff was waiting with trepidation for Mike and Matt to show up for the evening meal.  When they finally came downstairs, they looked balefully across the library at him at first, and then both of them burst into laughter.
        "Commere, Jeff," Mike said from where they had sat down in the library.
        "I don't think so."
        "Get over here," Matt said.  "We're not gonna hurt cha.  Not right now, anyway."
        "What did you do?" Andie asked Jeff in a whisper.  "I know you did something with that snow."
        "You don't wanna know, in case you have to testify under oath," Jeff kidded her quietly.
        "We're waiting, Jeff," Mike said.
        Jeff stood up slowly from the couch where he was sitting with Andie, and reluctantly went over to them.
        "Well done, Jeffy!" Matt told him.  "But costly for you.  Your ass is ours now.  You won't know how, and you won't know when or where.  Maybe on your next visit to Chicago, maybe on your wedding day.  Maybe on your honeymoon.  Who knows?  But there will be retribution.  Count on it!"
        "Guys, I..."
        "No, no, you don't have to thank us for our forbearance," Mike assured him.  "How could we do less for our little brother?  You know what they say.  'Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.'"
        "But I don't say that," Jeff said for lack of another comeback.
        "Thank you for your time, Jeff," Mike said.  "You're excused now."
        Jeff went back to Andie, smiling but feeling a little cowed for a change.
        Branford announced supper just then, and everyone abandoned chair and conversation for the moment, and they all filed into the dining room.
        Justice Broman asked Martha to say the blessing.

            "Heavenly Father," she said, "You have brought us together in the bonds of love and affection during these holidays to praise your holy name.  With one heart and mind we acknowledge you as our creator, our redeemer, our sanctifier.  Among all the wonderful gifts we have received at your hand this Christmastide, we acknowledge the gift of very special friendships, and we pray that these friendships may endure forever.  Give us hearts full of compassion for those who suffer lack, and give us no peace and no rest until we find the ways to address their needs.  And finally, Father, we ask your blessing upon the food which we are about to receive, that it may strengthen us to do your will in all things, through Jesus Christ our Lord."
            "Amen."

        "Wow!" Father David muttered to himself as the men seated the women.
        The main course was grilled shark steak, and it was delicious.
        After the meal was over, Justice and Mrs. Broman, Matt, Mike and Chris laid claim to the small sitting room at the front of the house while everyone else went into the library.
        "You didn't waste any time getting security on the grounds, Dad," Matt said after they all had taken a seat.  "Thank you for doing that."
        "It had to be done, just to be on the safe side," his father said.  "But I'm more concerned about the situation you all face in Chicago with this guy Anderson on the loose."
        "Before we go any farther, Dad, Matt and I need to put something on the table," Mike said.  "Here it is.  As far as we're concerned, this discussion is only going to continue if you agree up front that we're going to address security issues for the entire family, including you and Mom, and not just for those of us who are living in Chicago."
        Mr. Broman looked surprised, and glanced over at Matt.  "Do you go along with this?" he asked.
        "Absolutely."
        "That's blackmail," the jurist protested.
        "No," Mike said, "that's concern.  But you can call it anything you please."
        "Now, Mike..." Mr. Broman said.
        "No, Dad.  We aren't going to argue about this!  I know you're insistent about establishing better security for us because you love us.  I hope you understand that we're saying what we are for the same reason--we love you.  None of us wants all the complications that go hand in hand with being prominent and staying safe.  It's a pain in the ass.  But the fact is that the entire family is vulnerable, especially you.  For that matter, everyone around us is at risk, too.  This issue is much bigger than just having Neil Anderson on the loose."
        "Mike's right, sweetheart," Mrs. Broman said, putting her hand on her husband's arm.
        Chris sat back in his chair taking all this in.  He had heretofore never heard a contentious word spoken by any of the Bromans, at least none that wasn't in jest.  It was enlightening to know that this family had its disagreements like any family.  Based upon what he'd seen of the relationships in this family, though, they might fight hard but it wouldn't damage their feelings for one another in the slightest.
        Justice Broman sat back on the couch he was sharing with his wife and studied his sons for a long moment.
        "All right.  What do you want to do?" he asked.
        "First of all,' Matt said, "we did already ask Chris if he would head up security for us in Chicago.  He's thinking it over right now, aren't you, Chris?"  Chris nodded his head.
        "As far as your situation and Mom's are concerned when you're in Washington," Matt continued, "I think you need to have a complete evaluation done by a security firm to find out just what your vulnerablities are, and specifically, to what kinds of threat.  Mike and I want to be copied on any reports you receive, and we'll do the same for you with regard to our situation in Chicago."
        Justice Broman got a twinkle in his eye and turned to his wife.  "This kind of willfulness in the children could only come from the Hagerty side of the family.  Every bit of it.  I think all your kids got a massive dose, and Mike picked it up by osmosis."
        "From my side of the family?" Jane Broman responded, smiling.  "I don't think so, your Honor.  It's vintage Broman all the way."
        "You've just proven my point by disputing me, and I rest my case," the jurist said, leaning over to kiss his wife on the cheek.
        "All right," Justice Broman went on, "I'll contract for an evaluation, as you've suggested.  Now, on your behalf, I've investigated some of the programs that provide training worldwide for security personnel, and the best one by reputation is in Switzerland.  Chris, if you do accept Mike's and Matt's offer, and I'm not trying to rush your decision-making process, I want you on the next plane to Zurich.  You probably wouldn't be able to carry out some of the physical training they offer until you're completely healed up, but you surely could start on the classroom stuff."
        "Yes, sir," Chris said.  Talking with the justice on this subject was a little like trying to stand tall in a hurricane.
        "Do you want me to contact Captain Angelo in Chicago?" Justice Broman asked.  "I'm sure he'd want to know about Neil Anderson."
        "I'll call him in a little while, Dad," Matt said.  "I'm sure he can put us on to some young police officers who might want to make a few extra bucks watching over us and the kids while they're off duty."
        "What about security for Jeff and Martha until school's out?" Mike asked.
        "It's already taken care of," Justice Broman replied.  "I called the young lawyer who represented Matt when he was being questioned about Jason Stelling's murder, and engaged him to contract for 24 hour a day security for them."
        "There's no keeping up with you, is there?" Matt said to his dad, laughing.  "You're something else."
        "Dad, did you talk to Jeff and Martha about this first?" Mike asked.
        "No, I didn't."
        "Don't you think you should?  If the security people don't have their cooperation, it isn't going to work," Mike suggested.  "Jeff and Martha are adults, or close to it, and they aren't going to accept protection unless you convince them they need it."
        Justice Broman was quiet for a moment.  "You're right, Mike.  I guess I get ahead of myself sometimes on this particular subject because...well, I worry about you all.  I'll discuss it with them."
        "Good," Mike said.
        "Are we basically in agreement, then?" Mr. Broman asked.
        "Yep," Mike said, and the others nodded.
        "All right, then, I'd like to close this little meeting on a lighter note.  I have a joke for you," Justice Broman said.
        Mrs. Broman groaned, but Matt looked pleased and Chris and Mike noncommital.
        "This is a story about Osama bin Laden, since we're focusing on how to deal with bad guys," Mr. Broman said.  "I know you'll enjoy it," he added dryly, looking at doubters Jane, Mike and Chris.
        "After getting nailed by a Daisy Cutter, Osama made his way to the Pearly Gates.  He was greeted there by George Washington.
        "'How dare you attack the nation I helped conceive!' yells Mr. Washington, slapping Osama in the face.
        "Patrick Henry comes up next and faces him. 'You wanted to end the Americans' liberty, so they gave you death!'  Henry punches Osama in the nose.
        "James Madison approaches him next, and says, 'This is why I allowed the Federal government to provide for the common defense!'  He delivers a kick to Osama's knee.
        "Osama is subjected to similar beatings from John Randolph of Roanoke, James Monroe, and 67 other people who have the same love for liberty and America.
        "Osama is writhing on the ground, and Thomas Jefferson picks him up and hurls him back toward the gate where he is to be judged.
        "As Osama awaits his journey to his final, very hot destination, he screams out, 'This is not what I was promised!'
        "An angel replies, 'I told you there would be 72 Virginians waiting for you. What did you think I said?'"
        Chris, Matt, and Justice Broman burst into laughter.  Mike chuckled and Mrs. Broman just smiled and shook her head.
        Signalling that the meeting was over, the Bromans all stood up, and Matt and Mike kissed their mom and dad.
        "We really appreciate what you're doing for us, Dad," Matt said.  "Thank you."
        Mike nodded in agreement, and then helped Chris struggle to his feet from the depths of his easy chair.
        "Anybody up for some eight-ball?" Mike inquired.
        "You have a pool table?" Chris asked.
        "Is Matt a dweeb?  Of course we have a pool table," Mike said.
        "Hey!!" Matt protested, smiling.
        "Let's go," Mike said.  "You wanna play, Matt?"
        "Maybe a little later.  I'm gonna call Tony Angelo and see if he's home."
        "OK." Mike said, as they all went into the hall.  Mr. and Mrs. Broman went into the library, and Matt went upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.  Mike pointed Chris toward the door to the game room at the back of the hall, under the curving staircase.
        "You understand, doncha, that if you start sinking too many balls, I may hafta knock you off your crutches to even things up."
        "You talk big, dude." Chris said.  "I'm gonna whip your ass.  With pleasure."
        "Hoo hoo, promises!"
        "Nothin' I can't back up.  Prepare to lose."
        Mike opened the door and flipped on the lights of a large room with mahogany paneled walls upon which hung oil paintings of various hunting scenes by English painters.  The room contained not only a pool table, but a billiards table as well.  Massive, oblong Tiffany lampshades hung over each table, gleaming in the subdued lighting of most of the room.  In one corner was a large, round, leather-topped card table, a big, round Tiffany shade hanging over it, with small spotlights in the ceiling shining additional light on the table top where each player would sit.  There was a wet bar in one corner.  A leather couch and a half dozen leather easy chairs scattered about completed the very masculine decor of the room.
        "Wow!  Why didn't you tell me you had a game room?" Chris asked.  "I could've been whipping your ass all week."
        "I just didn't think about it," Mike said.  "Matt and I haven't done a very good job of giving people a tour of this place, I guess.  You haven't seen it all yet.  For starters, there's a music room down the hall where concerts used to be given, and there's a large ballroom.  This property was clearly 'party central' for the county in its day."
        "That's amazing."  Chris pulled a quarter out of his pocket.  Playing pool was very much on his mind.  "Call it for break," he said as he flipped the coin and caught it before it could land on the green felt, placing it on the back of his hand.
        "Heads," Mike said while it was in the air.
        "It's tails," Chris said, showing Mike and then shoving the coin back in his pocket.  "Rack 'em and take a seat.  I'm gonna run the table!"
        "I've heard that before," Mike said.  "Your brag will just make victory that much sweeter for me."
        Mike put the balls in the triangle, wedged his fingers in, and then removed the rack carefully, leaving the balls in a good, tight pack.  Chris picked a cue and chalked it.  He crutched around to the head of the table, removing the crutches from under his arms and leaning them against the table at the side.  Standing on his good leg leg, he snapped off his shot.  It was a powerful break, with the 7 ball spinning into a pocket.
        "I'm solids, you're stripes," Chris said.
        He put four solid balls away before missing a shot, and Mike took over, putting away three stripes before he missed.
        Chris ran the rest of the solids, and had first crack at the 8 ball.  It vibrated in the pocket he'd selected, and popped back out.
        "Shit," Chris said.  "That never would have happened if I weren't all crippled up," he said, hiding a smile.
        Mike laughed derisively.  He had another go at the stripes, and ran them.  Taking aim at the 8 ball, Mike slammed it into the pocket he'd called..
        Chris racked, and they started their second game, taunting each other as they went along.
        *  *  *
        Tony Angelo picked up his phone at home on the second ring.
        "Angelo," he said.
        "Tony, this is Matt Broman.  How are ya?"
        "Matt!  Good to hear your voice, bud!  Thanks for the Christmas phone greetings, by the way.  Marie and I appreciated it.  Are you home?"
        "No, we're flying home tomorrow.  How's Marie?"
        "She's wonderful!  How's Chris doing?"
        "Good, Tony.  He's downstairs shooting pool with Mike.  I'm gonna hafta listen to whoever wins the most games gloat for the rest of the evening."
        Tony laughed.  "It was really nice of you and Mike to take Chris and his aunt with you for Christmas, Matt.  I know he really appreciated it."
        "My family loves him and Aunt Carole to death.  We all feel lucky to have him for a friend, and we never would have met him if it hadn't been for you.  So thanks for that."
        "He'll be a good friend to you.  He's definitely one of the good guys."
        "I know it.  Listen, Tony, my dad wanted me to call you.  I don't think I ever told you this, but when I was an undergrad at UPenn, I was kidnapped for ransom.  I won't go into all the gory details, but they caught the guy and his crew, and he got 25 years to life.  Unfortunately, he got away from the Pennsylvania DOC on Saturday when they were transferring him from one prison to another, so he's on the loose.  They think he's responsible for the murder of one family already since he escaped.  A guy from DOC called me here to warn me he's 'out there' somewhere, and urged me to take precautions.  Anderson blames me for being in prison.  Dad has this place crawling with security, but he's concerned about what might happen in Chicago before we can get some security lined up.  I was wondering if you could take up the slack until I can make arrangements for some help.  Maybe we can hire some off duty officers.  I certainly don't expect the taxpayers to foot the bill for this for the long haul."
        "No problem.  I have a little more wiggle room on decisions like this now.  I was just promoted to commander, and on December 15th I took over the precinct where I was previously the watch commander.  Your precinct.  So I'm back working days, now."
        "December 15th!!  Why am I just hearing about this now, man?"
        "Just busy, with the holidays and all.  I was gonna call you when you got home."
        "Didn't I tell you that you'd make superintendent before you retire?  You're right on track."
        "That would have to come about damn quick.  I'm getting close to time to pull the plug.  Anyway, when are you coming in?"
        "Tomorrow afternoon, into O'Hare.  2 p.m.  Three limos are supposed to meet us at the charter company hangar."
        "Give me the name of the limo company and the other details, and I'll be there with two squad cars to meet you.  We'll want to search the condo before you settle in.  I'll call the Pennsylvania DOC in the meantime and find out how the search is progressing."
        "Tony, this is really nice of you.  I appreciate it."
        "Bud, it's my pleasure, and a legitimate use of resources, by the way.  We aren't gonna have any repeats of what happened to you down on the beach.  The Mayor would have my ass if anything happened to you or Mike.  He takes those awards for valor he gave you guys a few years back pretty seriously.  Say, listen, before I forget, please give your dad and mom my best regards."
        "I will."  Matt gave Tony the name of the limousine company and the name of the airline charter company, and after a few pleasantries, they hung up.  Matt was pleased to have security for the immediate future lined up, and knew his dad would be, too.
        Matt fired up the computer and finished printing out the holiday pictures he wanted to give everybody for mementos.  They were pretty good, he thought, and he decided to have one of each framed for him and Mike when he got home.
        When he had finished printing the photos, he went on the internet and starting researching various martial arts regimens in which Kyle, Michael and Matthew might be enrolled.  As he worked through the descriptions of the various programs, of all of them he liked the the descriptions of Kung Fu, or Gung Fu, the best.  This style of combat had been developed by the Shaolin priests of ancient China, and the reason Matt liked it was the variety of styles that were taught under the Gung Fu umbrella.  Some of its styles emphasized physical strength, which the boys would not have in full measure until several years down the line, but others emphasized "ch'i," or life force, and the ability to use an opponent's own movements against himself.  As the boys progressed and grew in stature, they could learn new modalities as seemed appropriate.  He printed out some of the information for Mike to look at.
        By the time he went downstairs again, Chris and Mike were coming out of the game room.  Chris had beaten Mike at pool three games to two, and was insisting that Mike had agreed to be his slave for the rest of the day.  Mike just laughed at him.
        "You wanna ride on my back, Master," Mike asked him.
        "Good idea," Chris said.
        Mike stooped down and Chris climbed on, piggy back.  Matt took his crutches.
        The three of them joined everybody in the library.  The group had a good laugh at Chris and Mike as Chris slid off Mike's back and on to his good leg.
        "What's going on?" Mary Bradford asked the two of them, still chuckling.
        "Oh, Chris beat me at pool by one game, and he's makin' me pay the price," Mike said.  "With my massive strength, though, it's no problem."
        Everybody hooted.
        After things settled down, Matt told Mike and Chris that he had been doing some research on the web about various martial arts programs for the kids, and thought that Gung Fu might be the most adaptable for the kids as they grew up.  Chris was interested, and asked Matt if he could look at the material later.
        "Y'know, I want to show the boys one move right now that might come in handy sometime," Chris said.  "You'll have to hold me up while I do it, though, or I'll fall on my butt."
        " 'K.  Guys, commere," Mike called to the boys.
        They left their toys and came over.
        "I wanna show you a move that will get you started in martial arts," Chris told them.
        "Good," Michael said seriously, "we want to learn this stuff."
        Chris stood up on his good leg, lightly supported by Matt, and leaned his crutches against the wall.
        "Commere, Michael," Chris said, "and stand with your back to me."
        Michael complied.  By now everybody in the library was watching.
        "Now, pretend someone has grabbed you from behind, and picks you up like this."  Chris demonstrated, hoisting Michael up under the boy's arms, with Michael's back pressed into Chris' chest, legs and feet dangling.
        "Now, don't do this to me hard or you'll hurt me, ok?" Chris said.  "If you're ever in this position, don't try to squirm out of your opponent's arms.  That way, he'll think he's really got you.  Then, kick back with one foot into the guy's crotch.  Try it on me, but take it easy."
        Michael moved slowly, and his ankle and heel of his foot came up directly under Chris' balls.
        "That's good, buddy," Chris said.  "If you were really in danger, you'd kick hard, of course.  I guarantee he'd drop you."  He put Michael down, and carried out the same maneuver with Kyle and Matthew.  The boys were happy to be learning something new.
        "We're gonna get you enrolled in Gung Fu classes when we get home," Matt told them, and the boys were pleased.
        "Will we be able to beat everybody up?" Matthew asked.
        "No, but you'll learn how to defend yourselves," Matt said.  "You never beat anyone up unless you or someone else is in real danger of being hurt.  They'll teach you that in class."  The boys absorbed that information, looking at each other.  Eventually they drifted back to their toys by the tree.
        "Thanks, Chris," Mike told him.  "That's a good move for kids their size."
        "Would anyone like a glass of wine or a drink before dinner?" Justice Broman asked the crowd.  "You won't have to know the martial arts to get it away from me."
        The group chuckled, and those who wanted something let their wishes be known.  The jurist got busy at the little bar in the corner of the room as people continued to talk.
        Not many minutes later, Branford came to the door of the library and announced that supper was being served in the dining room.
        As they stood around the table, Justice Broman asked Stan to say grace.  It was a first for him during that vacation, but after a moment's hesitation, he delivered a perfectly acceptable prayer, offering thanks for the wonderful holiday everyone had spent together as well as for the food.  Mike gave him a thumbs up before they all sat down, and the man grinned by ear to ear.
        "Pretty quick on your feet, there, Stanley," Matt said, smiling at his friend.
        "In this group, you have to be!" Stan said.
        After a great meal, the younger guests, as well as the three kids, went to the game room now that they knew it was there and what it had to offer.  As they went, they noticed that a few of the security force had come in from the cold with their animals and were eating at card tables in the hall.  Matt shooed the boys away from the dogs.  Breakers was in the kitchen right then fraternizing with the staff and eating his own meal, fortunately.
        Once in the game room, Mike and Andie took on Chris and Jeff at pool, and Matt, Stan, Father David, Martha and Linda played poker.  Linda was a sleeper at this game, and cleaned everybody's clock.  She had almost all the chips sitting in front of her within a few hours, explaining that she had learned how to play the game from a couple of card-shark brothers.
        There was a dart board on one wall, and Mike had moved it lower so the three boys could play and be able to retrieve their darts.  They loved the game, and Matt knew he'd be buying a dart board when they got back to Chicago.
        Everybody was played out by 10:30 that evening, and after saying goodnight to the contingent in the library, they all went upstairs.  Matt and Mike gave the boys their bath, and then put them in their PJ's.  After they heard their prayers and dimmed the lights, the partners went back downstairs for a few minutes with their mom and dad.  The library was empty by then except for Justice and Mrs. Broman, sitting together on a couch, talking.  After all their years of marriage, they were holding hands.
        "We were hoping you two were still up," Mike said, moving them apart and sitting down between them.  He took his mother's hand.  Matt pulled over a chair and sat in front of them.
        "We were just talking about your extended family, boys," Justice Broman said.  "You've surrounded yourselves with some wonderful people."
        "We agree, Dad," Matt said.  "Mike and I just want to thank you both for a great holiday.  Taking all of us in was incredibly generous of you.  I know I haven't had as much fun at Christmas since I was a kid."
        "Truthfully, we haven't either," Mrs. Broman said.  "Celebrating with family makes Christmas more fun, and these people are all family to us now."
        "The boys have enjoyed the time they've had with you," Mike added.  "They miss you a lot when we're back in Chicago, and so do Matt and I."
        "Well, we'll be in Chicago for Stan's and Linda's wedding, so it won't be too long before we're together again," Justice Broman said.  "I'm already looking forward to it."
        "We are, too," Matt agreed.  "Dad, I wanted you to know that Tony Angelo will be meeting us at the airport with a couple of squad cars, and short-term we'll have police protection.  I suggested to him that we may want to hire some off-duty officers, and he thought that was a good idea.  As soon as Chris heals up and we know whether he's going to accept our job offer or not, we can put together a more permanent staff."
        "I know you think I'm paranoid..." Justice Broman started to say, shaking his head, when Mike cut him off.
        "No, we don't, Dad.  You're right, and we're following through.  I hope we can count on you to do the same on your end."
        "You have my word on it, son."
        "That's good enough for me."
        They talked for a few more minutes, and then Matt and Mike kissed their parents, told them they loved them, and went to bed.
        *  *  *
        After breakfast the next morning; a buffet as usual, the Chicago crew began to pack for the trip home.  Jack and Judy Hagerty were going to stay a few more days with the Bromans, and Jeff and Martha wouldn't be leaving to return to school until the next day.
        Three limousines showed up about 8:45 a.m., along with two Pennsylvania state police cars.  Matt and Mike wanted to be at the airport no later than 10 a.m. for departure at 11:00, putting them into Chicago at roughly 2 p.m., just as Matt had told Tony Angelo.
        When they all went out to load up the cars, Chris crutched his way over to the Pennsylvania officers, wearing his Illinois State Police cap, and introduced himself.  They talked for a while, and Chris asked them how the hunt for Neil Anderson was going.
        When Chris came back, he quietly told Matt that it looked as if Anderson was heading for Chicago, leaving a trail of victims behind him in his wake.  Police at every toll plaza and oasis between Pennsylvania and Illinois were peering into the passenger compartment of every car and truck, and were flashing Anderson's picture around.  So far, no leads.  Matt just shook his head.
        Thinking ahead, Matt handed Chris his cell phone and had him call his buddy Josh Harkness in Chicago right on the spot, inviting him to come to dinner at the condo that evening if he was free.  Matt thought it was time he and Mike continued their discussion with the young state trooper about his sexual orientation.  Chris did reach Josh, who said he'd look forward to dinner.  Josh told Chris he'd missed him over the holidays.
        Mike, especially, hated these goodbyes.  Invariably, it tore him up inside to say goodbye to his mom and dad, even knowing that they would all be together again before long.  What these two people had done for him when his birth family had been killed was never far from Mike's mind, and he loved them beyond reason.  So, when the moment came to actually get in the car, as usual Mike cried as he kissed his parents and held them.  He wasn't alone.  Matt tried to keep a stiff upper lip when he said goodbye to his mom and dad and Jeff and Martha and his aunt and uncle, and was only partially successful.
        Jeff and Andie and Father David and Martha walked down the driveway a bit, as couples, for a private moment, and Andie didn't look very cheerful about her impending separation from Jeff when she came back to say goodbye to her hosts.  David and Martha shared a romantic kiss, perhaps their first, Mrs. Broman noticed.
        Mr. and Mrs. Broman kissed and hugged everyone.  Carole expressed her gratitude to the Bromans, and shared a special goodbye with the Hagertys.  Mary Bradford said her thank-you's, telling the Bromans how much she appreciated having the holidays with them.  When the Bromans pulled Linda and Andie and Stan and Chris and Father David into their arms as if they were their own children and hugged them and kissed them, even the young men looked a little sorrowful to be leaving.  And when Justice Broman whispered encouragement about his physical condition and his excellent prospects for employment into Chris' ear as the jurist kissed his cheek and held him, the tough young cop wept openly.
        Before getting into the car, Andie held up her new engagement ring to Jane Broman, and told her that next to Jeff himself, her ring was the most beautiful gift she had ever received in her life.  Mrs. Broman was touched.
        Michael, Matthew and Kyle were excited to be going home.  For one thing, they wanted to see the two-wheel bikes their grandparents had bought them for Christmas, and they were also looking forward to beginning their martial arts training.  Despite that, it was hard for Matt and Mike to pry the boys out of Matthew and Jane Broman's arms when the car engines started up and it was really time to go.
        The limousines moved slowly down the long driveway, sandwiched between the squad cars before and behind with their Mars lights flashing.  The gates opened slowly to let them out, and then closed and locked themselves behind them.  A wonderful vacation was almost over.
        The trip home was uneventful.  The plane Matt and Mike had chartered was ready and waiting for them at the airport.  One of the state police officers searched the plane before anyone boarded, and soon the luggage and passengers were aboard.  They taxied out on the runway to await their turn to take off, and soon were airborne.  Matt held Mike's hand as they sat side by side, and soon they had both drifted off into a little nap.
        There were no planes stacked up over O'Hare when they arrived, so they were on the ground almost immediately a few minutes before 2 p.m.  Tony Angelo was as good as his word, and was waiting for them in his unmarked car accompanied by two squad cars.  One of the squads had a police dog in the back.  The limousines pulled up to the hangar right after the plane landed, and the cars were searched by the Chicago police officers before anyone disembarked from the plane.  The travelers transferred their luggage to the cars as Tony greeted everybody and introduced Matt, Mike and Chris to the two officers with him.
        Carole lived closest to the airport, so she was dropped off first.  As a courtesy, a police officer searched her house before they let her go inside.  She thanked Matt and Mike profusely for a wonderful trip, and said she would talk with them and with Chris the next day.
        Next, they dropped off Father David at his little apartment near St. Stephen's.
        "Why don't you stow your luggage and come back to the condo for dinner, David?" Mike asked.  "A friend of Chris' and ours is coming up, and we'll probably order in."
        "Let me take a raincheck," the priest said.  "I have a couple of things I have to do."
        "Yep," Mike said.  "You know you're welcome any time."
        "Thanks.  And thanks for a marvelous time.  It was the best Christmas and the best vacation I've had in a long, long time," Father David said.  "And let me know when you're scheduled to talk to Bob Fischer at the school, will you?"
        "OK, Father," Mike said.  "Talk to ya."
        The limos pulled away and headed for the condo.  When the six vehicles arrived, Dominic the doorman watched in amazement as they filled the visitor's parking lot.  Tony Angelo went back to each car and instructed everybody to stay there until he and the two officers and their police dog had searched the apartment thoroughly.
        Dominic recognized Captain Angelo when the policemen and their dog came in the front door.
        "Good evening, Captain," he said.  "Is everything all right?"
        "I think so, Dom," Tony said, "but we need to search Matt's and Mike's condo before they go upstairs.  They'll explain to you what's going on later."
        "Yes, sir," Dom said, and from his station opened the door to the penthouse elevator.
        The police officers and their dog boarded, and were whisked upstairs.  They took the dog off his leash, and let him scout the apartment.  The animal explored every room in the place, including the closets and the roof, in no time, finding nothing untoward.  The three policemen returned to the foyer with the dog, and Tony walked out to the parking lot to let everyone out of the cars.  The drivers unloaded the baggage as Dom pulled a luggage cart out the front door and loaded everything on it.
        "Matt and Mike and Chris, I'm going to leave Davis and Hansen with you.  Davis, you stay with Dominic at his station in the front hall.  Hansen, you go upstairs with the family.  In a couple hours, just to stay alert, switch duties.  When the limos leave, park the squad cars where they're easily seen.  As far as food goes, Matt and Mike will feed you, won't you, guys?" Tony asked with a grin.
        "We'll be glad to," Matt said.
        "You'll be relieved shortly after 11 o'clock by two guys on the third shift, all right?" Tony told the policemen.  "I don't need to tell you to remain vigilant.  The guy we're hoping doesn't show up here looking for Matt is an escaped con, he's armed, and very likely a murderer.  Don't let your guard down."
        "Yes, sir," they said.
        Tony shook hands with Matt, Mike and Chris again, said goodbye to everyone, and left to return to his precinct.
        "Dom, we're expecting Josh Harkness for supper tonight," Matt said before going upstairs.  "I don't know whether he'll be in his state trooper uniform or in civvies, but send him up when he gets here, ok?"
        "Right away, Matt," Dom said.
        "When the pizza guy comes, Dom, you and Officer Davis help yourselves to pizza and soft drinks before you send him upstairs, OK."
        "Will do," Dom said.  "Thanks, Matt."
        Everybody squeezed on the elevator along with the cart.  When the elevator doors reached the penthouse and opened on the foyer, the three boys saw what they were looking for:  three large boxes, each with a two-wheel bike pictured on the box.  They ran over to them immediately, squealing.
        "Oh, boy!" Kyle said.  "Dad, when can we ride the bikes?"
        Matt and Mike looked at each other.
        "We'll have to put them together tomorrow," Mike said, "but you can't ride 'em anyway until we buy you helmets, guys, so cool your jets."
        "Awwww," the kids said, disappointed.
        "I know," Matt said.  "But you'll be learning how to ride 'em by tomorrow night, so be patient.  Now, grab your bags off the cart, and take them back to your bedroom.  Dad and I will put your stuff away later."
        Mike and Matt carried their own luggage back to their bedroom, opened their bags, and started to separate the clean clothes, which they put away, from the dirty ones, which they threw in the laundry hamper.
        "Mike, I'm going to call St. Stephen's School before the office closes for the day," Matt said as he worked.  "When is a good time for you to go over there and see Dr. Fischer?"
        Mike groaned.  "There is no good time, but I know we have to do this.  How about tomorrow afternoon at 4 o'clock."
        "That's good for me.  Let me check with Stan."  Matt picked up the phone and dialed Stan's bedroom at the other end of the condo.
        "You rang?" Stan answered.
        "Yep," Matt said.  "Any possibility you can make a meeting with Dr. Fischer at the school tomorrow at 4:00?"
        "Uh huh.  I can be there."
        "Goodly," Matt said and hung up.
        He found the number for the school on his desk, and made the call.  The secretary put him through to the principal.  The man was cordial, and after he found out the subject of the meeting, confirmed that 4 p.m. the next day would work out well.  Matt explained that he and Mike would be accompanied by their associate, Stan Rosinski, who had actually witnessed the problem to be discussed, and Fischer said that was fine.
        "We're set, dude," Matt told Mike after he hung up.
        "Good," Mike said, finishing with his clothes and sitting down on the bed.
        "Watching you work has made me horny,"  Matt said, finishing up with his own clothes.  "Let's have sex."
        "Now?"
        "Well, yeah.  A stiff prick can't tell time."
        "I have a headache, dear," Mike said.
        "A headache?"  Matt pushed Mike back on the bed.  "I have a story on that very topic that seems timely."
        "A story?  Does your cruelty know no bounds?"
        "Don't be melodramatic,"  Matt said.  "Are you ready?"
        "Yeah, I guess."
        "A husband came out of the bathroom naked and was climbing into bed when his wife announced, as usual, 'I have a headache.'
        "'Perfect,' her husband said. 'I was just in the bathroom powdering my penis with aspirin.    You can take it orally, or as a suppository, it's up to you.'"
        Mike couldn't keep himself from laughing, and rolled over on top of his lover, giving him a long and passionate kiss with lots of tongue.
        
Part 7

        There was some lake-effect snow in the air by the time Josh Harkness arrived at the condo shortly after six o'clock that evening, still in his state police uniform.  He parked his squad car next to the two Chicago police squads sitting in plain view in the visitors parking lot, and so wasn't too surprised to see a Chicago cop on duty with Dominic at the front desk.
        "Hi, Dom," he said.  "Is everything all right?"
        "Yes, sir," Dom said with a smile.  "Matt and Mike are expecting you.  Go right on up.  They'll explain what's going on."
        "All right."  Josh extended his hand to the policeman before going to the elevator.  "Josh Harkness," he said by way of greeting.
        "Paul Davis.  How you doin'?"
        "Good, thanks.  Catch ya later."
        The young trooper strode into the elevator, the doors closed, and he was whisked up to the penthouse floor.  The doors opened on feverish activity in the foyer, as the three kids "helped" Matt, Mike, Stan and Chris assemble three new mountain bikes.  They had finished with one bike, sparkling as it sat on its kickstand just begging to be ridden, with two yet to go.  Matt and Mike opened one of the remaining boxes, and Stan and Chris the other, as they pulled out the seats and handlebars which needed to be affixed to the bike frames.
        Josh exited the elevator, and out of the corner of his eye saw a second Chicago police officer.  The man had his hand on his service revolver until he saw Josh's "smoky bear" hat and his uniform.
        Mike straightened up from his labors and noticed that their visitor had arrived.  Putting down the wrench he was holding, he went over to greet him.
        "Hey, Josh, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, bud!" he said, giving Josh a hug.  "You beat the pizza delivery man.  Guys, Josh is here."
        When Mike stepped back after hugging Josh, he didn't like what he saw.  The young police officer had dark circles under his eyes and looked as if he had lost weight since Mike and Matt had seen him last.
        Matt and Chris each came over and greeted their visitor with a hug.  Stan came over and was going to shake his hand, but at the last minute drew him into a hug, too.
        "What the heck," Stan said with a laugh, "these guys have made me into a hugger!"
        "Right on, dude!" Mike said, grinning at Stan.  "You were a quick study, though.  Josh, why don't you go on back to Matt's and my bedroom, and get some Levi's and a T-shirt out of my dresser.  It's the first one on the right when you go in.  There are some white socks in there, too, and find some sneakers in the closet.  Get comfortable, and then get your ass back here and help us.  So far, this little project has been like the blind leading the blind.  Even on a simple job like this."
        "OK," Josh said, laughing, and after greeting the kids, took off down the hall.
        "The blind leading the blind, huh!" Matt said to Mike, feigning disgust.  "Speak for yourself, Doc."
        "Western civilization would crumble if it had to depend on our mechanical abilities," Mike said.  "And you know that's true."
        Matt acquiesced with a chuckle, and picked up a box wrench to finish tightening the handle bars on to the steering shaft of the bike he and Mike were working on.
        Josh was back before long, but the bikes were assembled and sitting on their kickstands by the time he returned.
        "Boys, you can look and you can touch, but don't sit on 'em," Mike told the kids as he put the tools back in the toolbox.  "We'll buy your helmets tomorrow, and then you can start learning to ride tomorrow night, OK?"
        "Maybe we can just get on 'em and get right off," Matthew suggested.
        Mike gave him a look.  "What did I just say?"
        "Heck," Matthew said, and stomped off toward the den, followed by Kyle and Matthew.
        "I like it when you're the bad guy," Matt said, grinning at his partner.
        "I bet you do!" Mike snorted, and headed off to put the toolbox back under the kitchen sink.
        Matt, Chris, Josh and Stan followed the boys into the den, trailed by the Chicago cop who was on duty.  Chris and Josh sat down on the couch, and Stan laid claim to an easy chair.  The police officer pulled a folding chair out into the hall, keeping his eyes and ears focused on the foyer and elevator.  The boys started playing a board game they'd received for Christmas.
        "You guys want a beer or something before the pizza gets here?" Matt asked.
        "I thought you'd never ask.  Heineken's, please," Chris said.
        "Me, too," Josh echoed.
        "Me, three," Stan said.  "Make mine a Bud, though."
        Matt went over to the bar, opened the hidden panel to the refrigerator, removed four beers, opened them, and taking a swig from one, took the other three to Stan and the two young cops on the couch.
        "So, Chris," Josh said, "you sounded like you were having a good time when you called me.  How was Christmas?"
        "It was great!" Chris said.  "Except for one thing.  Some weird guy kept rousting me out of bed in the morning before the sun was up to ride an ATV while everybody else ran.  That was awful!"  He gave Matt a quick glance as he sat down at the other end of the couch
        "Seeing your expression when I woke you up was worth the trip," Matt responded.  "What a lazy butt you turned out to be."
        "I deny that," Chris said.  "I'm a veritable font of energy when I'm allowed to get enough sleep.  And I have the sunniest disposition you'd ever wanna see."
        "Yeah, right!" Matt said.  "How was your Christmas, Josh?"
        "Quiet.  Lots of family time, though, and that was good."
        "You hit any parties or anything?" Matt asked.
        "No.  I guess I wasn't in the mood," Josh said.  "How about you guys?"
        "It was pretty much party, party, party the whole time we were in Pennsylvania," Chris said.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mike come back from the kitchen.  "I had to whip Mike's butt at pool more than once, and that was fun.  He's such a loser."
        Mike was standing behind the couch by then, and slapped Chris on the back of the head.
        "Oh, sorry, Mike, I didn't know you were standing there," Chris said, laughing.
        "I think I liked you better when you were bedridden," Mike kidded him.
        Just then, the phone rang.  Matt answered it.  The pizza guy was downstairs.
        "Thanks, Dom," Matt told the doorman.  "Did you get pizza and something to drink?"  He paused. "OK, then, send him up."  He put the phone down.  "Mike, let Mary and Linda and Andie know the pizza's here, will ya?"  Andie was going to stay the night before going back to her dorm room the next day.
        "Yep," Mike said.
        Matt stood up and headed for the foyer, with the police officer shadowing him, unbuttoning the holster of his gun as they walked.
        The elevator door opened, and a kid stepped out with five large boxes of pizza and a sack full of liters of soft drinks.
        "What's with all the cops?" the kid asked, eyeing the police officer.
        "They heard that people were being overcharged for pizza, so they started an investigation," Matt quipped.
        "You're funny," the kid said, unamused.
        Matt settled up with the boy and gave him a nice tip.  The kid smiled then, and took off.
        Mike came out and took the pizzas, and Matt carried the soft drinks.
        "Boys, wash your hands," Matt said to the kids as everybody stood up and headed for the dining room.
        "I should stay near the elevator," the policeman said.
        "OK.  We'll bring you some pizza in a minute," Matt told him.  "There's a TV tray in the corner you can use, and you already have a chair."
        Everybody stood around the dining room table until Mary, Linda, Andie and the little boys joined them, and then they all held hands around the table as Mike said grace.  After everyone sat down, Matt piled a plate high with pizza, grabbed some napkins and a glass and a liter of Coke, and took them out to the officer in the foyer.
        After everyone had finished eating, Matt and Mike and Josh helped clean up.  Then the three of them went into the living room, closing the doors and leaving everyone else to their own devices.  Stan, Linda, Mary, Andie and Chris sat down in the den to talk, and the kids went back to their board game.
        Pulling easy chairs into a circle, Matt and Mike studied their guest for a moment.
        "Josh, how are you doin'?" Mike said finally.
        "If I tell you, you'll think I'm a real wuss," the young cop responded, sliding back in his chair and crossing his legs.
        "No, we won't," Mike said.  "We're not here to judge you.  Believe me on that."
        "I know.  Well, I'm not feeling too good about things."
        "You look tired," Matt observed.  "And you look as if you've lost some weight.  Are you eating and sleeping all right?"
        Josh looked down at the floor.  "No.  I can't sleep, and I don't have much appetite most of the time."
        "Are you getting any exercise?" Mike asked.
        "No, not really.  I just don't feel like doing much, to tell you the truth.  Nothing gives me any pleasure.  I can't read, and I can't even watch television for long without...well, thinking about my problem."
        Mike nodded.  "Just so we make a smooth transition from our last conversation, why don't you tell us again how you're seeing your problem."
        "I'm queer, and I hate myself for it, and I don't stand a chance of being with the person I love.  I guess that about covers it," Josh shot back without hesitation.
        "We're still talking about Chris here?" Mike asked.
        "Yes."
        "Well, I agree that your situation is a little different from what many of us went through," Matt said.  "I think most of us had a little longer period to adjust to our emerging orientation, to get used to it, I guess you'd say.  You just kind of admitted the truth about yourself all of a sudden.  Am I right on that?"
        "More or less," Josh said.  "I've been a little uneasy about my identity for a long time, but I was in complete denial about what I am.  When I came out to Chris, I was also coming out to myself.  Boom!  I stopped hiding from myself.  And I'm not handling it very well."
        "Have you given any thought to maybe easing into things by going out on a trial date with some nice guy?" Mike asked.
        "No," Josh said quietly.  "Jesus God, what's gonna happen to me?  I'm such a fucking mess."  He put his hands over his face and began to weep noiselessly.
        Matt pulled a fresh handkerchief out of his back pocket, and when Josh finally stopped crying and looked up, handed it to him.  Josh wiped his face.
        "Are you thinking about offing yourself?" Mike asked bluntly.
        Josh looked at him, surprised.  "The thought's occurred to me," he admitted.  "How did you know?"
        "I've been there a couple times," Mike said quietly.  "Fortunately, my family was there for me, and gave me what I needed to get to a better place.  Just like we're here for you now."
        Josh wiped his eyes again with Matt's handkerchief, saying nothing.
        "I'll tell you what, Josh," Mike said.  "I don't think drawing out your feelings any further tonight is going to help you.  I think you're pretty well into a clinical depression, and that's serious.  This has to be dealt with before you can move on to working effectively on your challenges.  I want you to know one thing, though.  You're a strong person.  I know you don't think so now, but you are.  And down the road, I don't think you're going to be the kind of person who lets the issue of orientation define him and everything he does and everything he thinks about.  I want you to hold on to that thought.  As for right now, I want you to come and stay here with us here for awhile."
        Josh looked surprised.  "You'd do that for me?"
        "It's not a problem," Matt said.  "Why don't you plan to stay here tonight?  I'll go with you to your place so you can pick up your toothbrush and stuff."
        "Do you have any sick time coming?" Mike asked Josh.
        "Yeah."
        "Well, I think it would be good if you took tomorrow off, then, OK?" Mike said.  "I'm going to have you see a doctor.  He'll most likely prescribe an antidepressant for you.  It may take a few days to kick in, so you probably should plan to stay here for at least a week until it does.  Maybe you can start going to work the day after tomorrow if you feel like it, but we can play that by ear.  Then I'm probably going to have you see a counselor.  You need to talk to someone who's trained to help you in this area.  Maybe a counselor who's gay."
        Josh didn't say anything, and after a minute, the three of them stood up.  First Mike and then Matt drew Josh into long embraces which the young man didn't resist.
        "Now, are you guys gonna tell me why you have two Chicago cops here?" Josh asked after they unclenched and stood back.
        "When I was in college, I was kidnapped for ransom," Matt explained.  "I got away from the bad guys, and the guy who masterminded the whole thing blames me for his being sent to prison.  He escaped last Saturday when he was being transferred from one facility to another back in Pennsylvania, and allegedly murdered some people not long after his escape.  Tony Angelo thought we should have some protection here until we can hire some private security."
        "Oh, man," Josh said, commiserating.  "Well, now you'll have one more cop here for awhile," referring to himself.
        "Yep," Matt said.  "Let's grab a jacket for you, and go on over to your place.  I can drive my new truck if you like."
        "No, let's take the squad car.  I don't think anyone will bother us then."
        Matt nodded, and the three of them went into the den.
        "Josh is going to stay with us for a few days," Mike told the family.  "He and Matt are going to his place to pick up a few things."
        "Cool," Stan said.
        Chris looked at Josh's face, still a little red from his tears, but said nothing.
        Matt went over to the clothes tree in the corner, grabbed his jacket, and shrugged into it.  He handed Mike's jacket to Josh.
        "Let me get my shield and my weapon," Josh said as he headed back toward Matt's and Mike's bedroom.
        "I'll make up a bed for him," Mike murmured to Matt as they waited for the young cop to come back.
        Josh returned, and he and Matt took the elevator down to the first floor and went out to the squad car.
        By the time they returned an hour and a half later, Mike had bathed the kids, heard their prayers, put them to bed, made up a bed for Josh, and walked Breakers.  Everybody except Mike had gone to bed.  He was waiting for them in the den, watching the news.
        "Josh, I inflated an air mattress and fixed it up for ya," Mike told their guest.  "You'll be in with Matt and me tonight."
        "That's an kind of an imposition on you guys, isn't it?" Josh asked.
        "No, not really," Mike said.  "We'll move you to another bedroom after you see the doctor tomorrow, if you want.  Why doncha give me your weapon, and I'll have Chris lock it up with his so the kids don't get at it."
        Josh didn't look too happy about that, but he complied, handing over his pistol.
        Mike walked down the hall and knocked on Chris' bedroom door.
        "Yeah?" Chris said.
        Mike opened the door.  Chris was in bed watching the news.
        "Can I lock this up with your weapon?" Mike asked, holding the 9 mm pistol upside down by its trigger guard.
        "Sure.  Here's the key."
        Mike took it and went over to the desk against the wall, and unlocked one of the drawers.  He put the gun into it and relocked the drawer, handing the key back to Chris.
        "Is there anything you feel you can tell me about Josh's situation?" Chris asked.
        "Not really," Mike said.  "He won't be going to work tomorrow.  Maybe he'll talk to you.  I hope he will."
        " 'K," Chris said.  "Whatever you're doing, Mike, thanks."
        "Yep," Mike said.  "See ya tomorrow, buddy."
        Shutting Chris' door behind him, Mike went back to his bedroom after checking on the kids.  Matt and Josh were just climbing into