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