My Father, My Son
by: Tom Borden

© 2000-2008 by the author


The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...


Before they mounted their horses, Brian told everybody. "Before we go back, I want to tell y'all that this has been the best birthday party I ever had. I guess it's the only birthday party I ever had. Jake, Maggie, Enrique. I love all of you." Looking at Josiah, he said, "And I think my birthday wish might really come true. The one thing I hate, though, is the thought that I'll be leaving the ranch. For the past six months, this has been the best home I ever had in my life. And Josiah is the best friend I ever had in my life."

Maggie took out her hankie again and wiped some tears from her eyes. Brian looked at Maggie and said, "That's okay, Maggie, I'm going to cry in a minute, too."

Josiah went over to Brian and they hugged each other tightly, and Josiah kissed away the tears that began rolling down Brian's cheeks. It had been a good day.


Chapter 28 

Brian's birthday party had been a great success, but everyone was tired when they returned to their rooms. After supper, Jake and Enrique sat out on their doorstep enjoying the cool evening air and watching another Texas sunset of red, gold, and purple.

Enrique leaned over and rested his head on Jake's arm—his favorite way of sitting with Jake. He looked up at Jake and said, "You played the bagpipes really good today. Everybody liked it. I'm glad I bought that for you. And I'm so glad you're not gonna die. I was so scared."

"Aw, Ricky. I wasn't never gonna die. I'm sorry I worried ya." Jake ran his fingers through Enrique's silky black hair and pulled him tightly against himself. "But it was nice of ya to worry about me, ya little fucker. That's why I love ya. We sure do belong together, don't we?"

Enrique nodded while nuzzling his head further into the crook of Jake's arm.

Jake looked out to the west and watched as the last little edge of the sun sank beneath the horizon. The sky was so red that everything on the ground had turned red. The house, the bunkhouse, the white barn, the trees, everything was red. After a few minutes, Jake looked down at Enrique.

"Ricky. Ricky." Enrique had fallen sound asleep. Jake bent his head forward and kissed him on the top of the head. Standing slowly, Jake carried Enrique inside and gently placed him on the bed. Jake lay down next to him and, propping himself up on one elbow, looked down on Enrique's peacefully sleeping face. As he traced his finger lightly over the arch of Enrique's dark eyebrows, he wondered how long it would last. How long would it be before Enrique might once again be lured away from him. Enrique was growing up. He was taking more responsibility on the ranch. His voice had changed over the past year, and he sounded like a young man now, rather than that sweet little boy Jake had loved so much. Jake knew it could never last forever. And he really didn't expect it to. Ricky needed to find new friends. He would be going to a real school in January, and there would be no question that Jake would have to share him with others. Jake stretched out very close to Enrique, pressing his cheek against Enrique's, and went to sleep.

Jake didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he awoke suddenly and looked up into Enrique's smiling face. Enrique was completely naked and was crouching over Jake looking down on his face. Enrique had undone Jake's pants and had already had Jake's penis and balls pulled out into the open.

"Jake I wish you hadn't come awake. I was going to see if I could get you to shoot while you were asleep!"

"Aw, shit, Ricky. Nobody can cum while he's sleepin'."

"Yes they can, Jake. I made you do it the other night while you were sleeping. And you didn't even know it."

"Aw, fucker. I'm sorry I woke up."

Enrique unbuttoned Jake's shirt and untucked it from his pants. He nuzzled his face into Jake's thick black chest hair and sucked on large clumps of it.

Jake said, "C'mon, scoot up here and sit on my chest, real close to my chin, and let me smell and taste them pretty little balls of yers. Wow. Yer startin' to grow some nice soft curly hair on yer balls." As Jake sucked Enrique's balls into his mouth, one by one, he mumbled, "I'm not hurtin' ya, am I?"

"No, you ain't, Jake. Can I scoot up higher so you can get your tongue down behind my balls? I love that."

"Yeah, Ricky. Git up there so both yer cock and balls are restin' on my forehead."

Jake ran his tongue over Ricky's shaft that terminated at his little pucker. He could feel Ricky's shaft pulsating as though it were struggling to make itself grow even harder and thicker. Since Enrique had returned, Jake could tell that considerably more thick hair had grown in Enrique's ass trench, and it felt so good on his tongue. And in addition, Ricky now had that wonderful masculine smell around his ass.

Jake found Enrique's asshole with his tongue and found that it had literally opened on its own as though it were beckoning for Jake's tongue to enter. As Jake pushed his tongue into Enrique's rectum, Enrique let out a long sigh of pleasure. Pulling off of Jake's tongue, Enrique moved back and held his ass just over the tip of Jake's gorged penis. Closing his eyes and bending his head back, Enrique slowly lowered himself onto Jake's penis. It was one smooth, uninterrupted motion, and Enrique had sucked into his rectum the whole length of Jake's cock.

Enrique leaned slightly forward and looked into Jake's eyes. Enrique's deep brown eyes were half closed, shaded erotically with those beautiful, sensuous black eyelashes. As he rose up and down on Jake's rod, he continued to stare at Jake while he let saliva start to run out of his slightly open mouth. Saliva ran down his chin in a foamy stream. It kept coming and was running off of his chin and dripping onto the hair that encircled Jake's navel. As it continued to run steadily out of Enrique's mouth, it became the most erotic thing that Jake had ever seen. He couldn't control himself and reached up and pulled Enrique down to him and buried all of Enrique's mouth in his. Enrique's saliva still ran. It filled Jake's mouth and ran down his throat, and ran down the side of his head onto his pillow.

It was all just too much. With an unusual lack of any warning, Jake's orgasm suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks and his penis surged more rapidly than he had ever remembered it doing, filling Enrique's rectum with what felt like an endless stream of sperm.

Enrique pulled his head up, his face covered with saliva and sweat, which was still dripping from his mouth.

Without hesitating, Jake lifted his legs high in the air. Enrique plunged his face into Jake's ass trench and flooded it with saliva. When he then mounted Jake and began fucking him, Jake watched Enrique's face as it became more and more tortured looking with the orgasm coming closer and closer. Enrique's face was now covered not only with saliva, but with sweat, which was pouring off of his chin into Jake's pubic hair. Then suddenly, Enrique let out a yell, pulled his throbbing cock out of Jake's asshole, and let stream after stream of glistening white hot sperm shoot onto Jake's mouth and face. Enrique felt as though his orgasm would never stop. As it finally began to subside, however, he lowered himself down on top of Jake, licking up his sperm off of Jake's face and kissing him deeply.

They each lay there breathless, hot, and covered with sweat. Enrique made no move to roll off of Jake. Jake soon was beginning to think that Enrique was falling asleep.

"Ricky. Ricky, are you awake?"

"I'm awake, Jake. But I never want to get off of you. I've missed you so much. And I've missed doing this with you so much, I really wanted to get it on with you again in a really big way. And we really did, didn't we Jake?

"Oh, my little fucker! How I love ya. We'll git it on anytime ya want! If ya want to go to sleep right here on my fuckin' chest, ya can jist go ahead."

"Yeah, Jake. That's what I want. I want to be pressed up against your skin when I wake up in the morning.

Soon, Enrique had fallen asleep and Jake rolled him off onto his back. Jake still had his pants on down around his ankles and also his boots. Taking everything off, he climbed back into bed and pulled Enrique up along side of him so their bodies were pressed together.

Michael had given his approval without hesitation for Maggie to open up the vacant wing of the house for Homer Kesselring. Homer tried to resist the move, but was at the same time fearful of his son, James' threat to have him judged incompetent and sent to a nursing home. He knew his son well enough to be certain that James would put him in the cheapest unlicensed home he could find, even if it were in some other part of the state.

Homer's landlady was willing to forgive the remainder of his lease, but he insisted on paying out the full seven months that remained on it. Maggie protested since Homer surely was not in a position to lay out that much money. But Homer did so, nevertheless.

After Homer's furniture and other belongings were moved into his new quarters, Maggie busied herself with hanging pictures, dusting and replacing Homer's fine collection of books in his bookcases, and generally arranging Homer's fine antique furniture so they would be placed and displayed in the most artistic and decorative way for all to see and admire.

After viewing the arrangement in his new living room, Homer said, "Maggie, you people surely do have a knack for interior decorating."

Maggie, putting a curious expression on her face as she worked, said, "What people is that, Homer?"

"You know, you people."

"Oh, you mean us homos," Maggie said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "That's right. Us people do have a flair for making things pretty. That's our feminine side!"

"Maggie, I didn't mean that you . . . ."

"That's alright, Homer. I know what you meant. I'm not sensitive," said Maggie as she stepped back to make sure she had hung a group of framed prints so the grouping was symmetrical. "Now look at that, Homer. They're such lovely prints that they need to be put in a place like that where they show. You had them all hung back in a corner where no one could see them. One has to hang one's pictures artistically, not just any old slap dash way."

"Yeah, that's nice, Maggie," said Homer, who was genuinely impressed.

"Now this beautiful desk, for example. It has such lovely carving, with sweet delicate little rosettes carved at the top. And just look at those darling drawer pulls. See how it all shows now? In your other place, one had to squeeze around behind that lounge chair in order to see it and admire it.

"It all looks pretty good, Maggie. I'm going to find a way to thank you some day for all you've done."

"Nonsense, ducky! You just stay there and look out the window over the rangeland for a few minutes. Isn't it the most peaceful view you've ever seen? I have the kettle on, and I'll be right back with some tea. And then we'll talk about how to display some of your other things to advantage.

After supper, while Maggie was cleaning up the kitchen, Homer rolled his wheelchair out to the front veranda where Karl was sitting alone and enjoying one of his English cigarettes. Karl stood up and invited Homer to join him. Rolling the wheelchair close to his own chair, Karl offered Homer a cigarette.

Homer's eyes brightened as he reached and pulled a cigarette out of the box. "Thank you so very much. It's been so long since I enjoyed a good cigarette. I wasn't allowed to smoke in that apartment I was in. Even if I sat by the window and blew the smoke outside, the old lady would somehow smell it and come rapping at my door screaming at me that she could smell cigarette smoke."

As Karl leaned over and lit Homer's cigarette, he said, "Maggie's told us a good deal about you, Homer, and the difficulties you've had with your family. We're all glad that you agreed to come and live with us. I think you'll really like it here. I'm from New York City, you know, and this wonderful place is a big change from the City. But I love every minute I'm here."

"I know I'll like it," said Homer. "I'll be able to have Maggie visit me every day now."

"Maggie's a wonderful, kind person, Homer."

"I know. I know that he's one of them who . . . you know . . . likes boys. And before Maggie, I never ran into any of them kind. And I hoped I never would. But you know, Maggie's a real human being. I even saw him cry once. And he feels pain, just like I feel pain. I never knew that people like him would ever think of caring for people like me, and also want to help people like me. But, Karl, I love his heart. And I love his gentle, reassuring touch when I need it. I love him more than I love my own son. Far more."

Karl smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear you say that, Homer, because Maggie has not had a good life herself. She has done nothing but serve and help others—very willingly, I may add. But she's lonely, and always has been. Helping others and bringing joy to others is what Maggie really lives for."

"Karl, there's something I haven't told Maggie," said Homer. "As you can see I had a rather severe stroke a few years ago that put me in this wheelchair. But there's something more serious. I have a bad heart. And the doctors have told me that the prognosis is not good. They say there is nothing they can do for me short of a heart transplant. And I'm too old to go through that. As I said, I haven't told Maggie because I know it would worry her."

Karl and Homer sat quietly and smoked a second cigarette and stared out over the grassland.

Mark had called Corky every night for the past three nights. He told of all the progress he had made in getting himself set up as a private investigator. He also was successful in talking Corky into going up to San Antonio and giving the job as Mark's assistant a try. Corky had suffered enough disappointments in his life that he knew this decision could also, and very easily be another wrong one. But that old saying, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," kept ringing in his head. There certainly was no future left for him there at the ranch. "Why not grasp at this straw," he kept telling himself. Besides, there just didn't seem to be a reason that Corky could think of to let this wonderful man slip away from him. There just could be no possible reason for him to do that.

The morning after Corky gave his affirmative answer to Mark, he found Michael and Karl on their front verandah drinking their morning coffee.

"I need to talk to you if I may," said Corky.

"Sure, Corky. Come on up here and have a seat. Here, let me pour you a cup of coffee," said Michael.

"Thanks, Michael. I guess I'll just come to the point. I'm gonna give my notice. I'm going up to the big city, San Antonio, and work for a guy who's opening a private investigator business. He used to be a Texas State Trooper."

Karl said, "Oh, Corky, we know who that is. We all know about him because we all got a big eye-full when you two got up and came out for breakfast that morning. Since you two are going to work together, I assume you're going to live together."

"That's right. He's got a big beautiful apartment full of books and trophies and stuff. He's even got some college degrees. It's all kind of out of my league. Sometimes I wonder why he wants me to be in that world with him."

"That's simple," Michael said. "He obviously loves you. The power of love can move mountains and make strange things happen, they say. Look at Karl and me. I've was born and raised right here out in the country. You know the old saying, 'Old ranchers have cow shit running through their veins.' And that's probably true. And Karl here, he was born and raised in the big city and spent most of his life up in New York City. It was pretty unlikely that we'd get together. The last thing I ever thought I would do was to get with a city guy, and the last thing Karl thought he'd ever do was to get with a down south country guy like me. But none of that mattered to us. We got together because we liked and respected each other, and we came to love each other. So don't you worry about Mark's education and his trophies and all that. Just be yourself. That's what he loves. Just you. Nothing else. It doesn't matter what else you have or don't have."

"I know you're right, Michael. I guess it doesn't matter anyway, because I've made up my mind to do it. I'm giving you three weeks notice, if that's okay. I'll be moving up there on December first. This should give you enough time to find a replacement for me."

After the three of them stood up and hugged, Michael and Karl stood there smiling and looking after Corky as he walked back to the bunkhouse whistling a happy tune.

That afternoon, Jeff and Paul had no classes and went back to their apartment for lunch at noon. Paul had picked up a nice ripe muskmelon at the market on the way home and decided to make a fruit salad for lunch. As he stood at the counter, cutting up the melon, some pineapple, green grapes and bananas, Jeff sat at the kitchen table watching Paul's backside. There was something about Paul's buns that were so sensuous and round as they moved when Paul would shift his weight from one leg to the other. His light tan pants were just tight enough to accent their smooth firmness and were tucked tightly into the crack between his buns.

Jeff reached over and ran his hands over Paul's buns and said merely, "Oooooooooo!"

"Watch out!" warned Paul. "I've got a sharp knife in my hand, and when I'm teased, I'm not responsible for what I might do!"

In kind of a baby talk voice, Jeff said, "Aw, Paul, can I kiss them? Please?"

"Yes. But only if you promise to be very gentle and don't bite like you did the other night."

"I promise," said Jeff as he reached around and loosened Paul's belt and pulled down his zipper. He then pulled Paul's pants down a little and let them fall down around his boots. Taking each bun in his hand, he ran his tongue over it and kissed it gently. "See, Paul, no biting. I'm just licking up all that good taste. Yummy!"

"Alright, you've now got my cock hard," said Paul. "It's hard and it's hanging right over the fruit salad. You don't mind a little pre-cum on your fruit salad, do you?"


"Just kidding, my love. But it's gonna happen if you don't do something about it."

Swinging around to face Jeff, a long, elastic string of semen dangled from the pee hole at the end of Paul's hard penis. "If you don't catch it, Jeff, it's gotta go somewhere."

Jeff got down on his knees and turned his head upward, allowing Paul's long string of pre-cum to dangle into his mouth.

"Now if you'll put the knife down, Paul," said Jeff, "I'll suck out the rest of that sweet thick cream sauce you have stored up in there."

Paul threw the knife into the sink and quickly removed his shirt. He motioned for Jeff to move on over closer to the pantry door, on which was a full-length mirror. "Jeff, you know how I love to stand sideways naked in front of that mirror and watch you run my cock down your throat. Get out of your clothes, too. I love to watch us both naked in the mirror."

It was a sight they both loved. They both stood completely naked, except for their cowboy boots that came about half-way up their calves and their cowboy hats. They were naked, except for boots and hats. What a sexy sight, they both thought! Jeff could watch himself sucking on Paul's penis through the corner of his eye. Just as Paul could feel his balls pulling up into his body and the muscles at the base of his penis starting to clutch tightly, Jeff began sucking faster and faster. He was sucking so fast, in fact, that his mouth accidentally came off of Paul's penis just as Paul's sperm began to shoot. Stream after stream sprayed all over Jeff's face as Jeff fought to re-grasp the penis with his mouth without success.

Then there was a knock at the door. Jeff fell backward on his ass, and Paul shouted, "Who is it?"

They heard Brian shouting back, "It's Brian and Josiah. We need to talk with you if it's convenient."

Paul and Jeff were both greatly weakened by what they had just done.

Paul looked at Jeff and said, "Well, what do we do now?"

Jeff thought for a few seconds and then responded, "Aw, shit, Paul. Brian and Josiah are lovers, and they know that you and I are lovers. Go ahead and let them in. They'll probably be shocked at first, but they'll get used to it. Go on. Let them in."

Paul, with his penis still almost as hard as it was, went to the door and opened it. Brian and Josiah stood almost paralyzed at the sight of Paul standing there with a semi-hard-on and Jeff sitting behind him on the floor with sperm splattered on his face and neck.

Paul waved his arm toward the room. "Come on in, you two. Sorry, but we were just finishing up with something. You know all about that, don't you?"

Brian stammered, "Well, ya, I guess so."

"Don't just stand there guys, come on in and have a seat. I was just fixing a fruit salad for lunch. How about joining us," said Paul.

"Well, I don't know," Brian said as he and Josiah sat down next to each other on the sofa.

Jeff stood up and grabbed a large section of paper towel and started wiping the sperm off of his face. "I'm sorry, guys, that we weren't dressed, but you know how it is. We weren't expecting guests."

Jeff and Paul then sat down, still naked on the floor in front of Brian and Josiah. "What brings you two all the way up here to Austin today?" asked Jeff.

Brian explained that, since he and Josiah did not want to get split up when Brian had to re-enter school in January, Jake had suggested that Josiah apply for admission to the University as a new Freshman inasmuch as Josiah had earned a State High School Equivalency Certificate. They were visiting Jeff and Paul in order to see if they could lend their assistance in getting Josiah accepted.

"Come on, Paul," said Jeff. "Let's get our clothes on. This is a major thing—a real serious thing—we're going to discuss here, and we don't need to be sitting around naked like this."

After they got back into their clothes, Paul said, "I always knew that Jake was the heart and soul of that ranch. I might have known it would be Jake who got you thinking about this. Listen, you guys, Jeff and I have the afternoon free. And let's march right on over to the admissions office right now where I'll introduce you to those people and where you can fill out an application and arrange for an interview."

Josiah said, "Oh, I don't know if I can do any interview. I'm really scared about all this. I don't know if I want to go through with this. I wish Jake could have come with us and go with us to the admissions office."

Paul looked at Jeff and said, "Well, Josiah, I'm not sure that he would do you any favors. He might just say something to the admissions officer like, 'I want to get my friend, Josiah, here into the fuckin' University. He'll be a good student and all that shit. Give him a fuckin' application so we can get this fuckin' show on the road.'"

Everyone started laughing, knowing that Paul was right. As much as they all loved old Jake, he would have been a disaster.

When the four arrived at the admissions office, they were able to get an immediate interview with an admissions counselor. Brian, Jeff, and Paul waited outside. It was a twenty minute interview and they all held their breath. When it was over, Josiah and the counselor emerged into the waiting room. Josiah had to pee so badly that he quickly disappeared into the restroom.

The counselor told Josiah's three friends that he found Josiah very interesting and believed him to be a bright young man who, if he applied himself, would be very successful in college. He assured everyone that Josiah's application would be considered by the Admissions Committee within the next few days, and Josiah would be notified.

Brian and Josiah left immediately so they would get back to the ranch before dark. As Brian drove, Josiah turned to him and said, "Brian, I was shaking a lot in that interview, but it wasn't too bad. I could answer every question he asked me. He told me that he thought I would like it there at school and that I could come in and talk to him if I had any problems that were bothering me anytime. He was real nice."

Brian smiled. "I think, Josiah, that it looks pretty certain that you'll be accepted. And I feel like kissing you."

Brian suddenly pulled off to the side of the road, turned off the ignition, and they both fell into each other's arms and kissed deeply and passionately. Tears of joy were running down their cheeks when they kissed, then laughed, and then kissed some more.

Since there was no more room in the house, Clayton had been staying in one of the empty bunkhouse rooms. He had insisted that, if he were going to remain for any length of time at the ranch, he should be given a job and be paid for it. Michael agreed and asked Jake to assign some duties to him. Clayton was assigned to keep the horse barn clean. It was not an easy job. But any job was fine with Clayton as long as he was paid on time and in the agreed amount. He had become very prideful of his ability to make his own way and support himself. His main purpose, however, in being at the ranch was to learn more about his father. He took every chance he could get to talk to Michael and anyone else on the ranch who had anything to say about Jared Walker.

One evening after supper, Michael invited Clayton to sit with him on the front verandah. Michael seemed to have as many questions as did Clayton.

"Clay, I'm sure you've gathered that your father and I were never close," began Michael. "You could probably say we were estranged. We were rarely in contact with each other. Our father, for reasons of his own, did not include your father in his will, and consequently, he has done all sorts of foolish things to either force me to turn over some our father's assets to him or to just harm me or the ranch in some way as a means of misdirected revenge."

Clayton said, "I've heard that he wasn't a very nice person. He sure wasn't very nice to me."

"I never knew that your father ever married, Clay."

"Yeah, he was married to my mom just long enough to get her pregnant and then took off. When I saw him up at the prison, he told me he didn't know she was pregnant and didn't know he had a son. You know, Michael, I always had all sorts of dreams and fantasies all my life about having a dad and what my real dad was like. I always wanted to find him some day, but my mom would never let me try. So when I got out of high school, I just took off and decided to look for him. And when I found him, he's nothing but a criminal. Michael? Can you tell me why he's in prison?"

"Oh, Clayton." Michael hesitated and shifted in his seat. "Your dad went to prison because he was involved with some sort of illegal operation. I don't have the details."

"Michael, did it have anything to do with children?"

Michael looked startled at the question.

Then Clayton said, "Some of the guys the other night at supper were telling me he was running some club where they forced little boys to have sex with adults. Please tell me the truth, Michael. Is that what he was doing?"

Michael hesitated again, and then said, "Yes, it was, Clay."

Clayton just looked out over the range. There was strain on his face and Michael could see his jaw muscles flexing. "Clay, please. You shouldn't dwell on that. You've gone as far as you can go now to learn about your father. Aside from your mother, I'm the nearest kin you have, along with your cousin Jeff. We'd like to be your family, Clay. Please, Clay. The past is the past. Let us be your family."

As Clayton continued to stare out toward the horizon, his eyes filled with tears. Michael reached out, put his arm around Clayton's shoulders and drew him near. With Clayton's head resting on Michael's shoulder, they sat for a long time in silence and watched the sun slowly disappear over the horizon.

It had now been a week since Homer Kesselring had moved to the ranch. Maggie had spent practically every evening playing Gin with Homer, graciously allowing Homer to win almost every game.

One evening when Maggie came into his room, Homer was holding Roman's violin.

"Come over here, Maggie. Please take this," Homer said, holding the violin with outstretched arms.

"Why should I take it?"

"Maggie, I'm an old fart. You know that. And I'm a foolish old fart. I want you to have Roman's violin and I want you to play it. Go ahead, Maggie. Take it!"

"I can't do that, Homer."

"I don't know what got into me Maggie. There really weren't no reason at all why you shouldn't play that violin. I been thinking. Roman loved that instrument. I think he'd be sad if he knew it was just sitting around, getting out of tune, and collecting dust. I want you to play it, Maggie. It would make me very happy to hear it played again, especially by someone as dear to me as you are."

"As dear to me as you are." Those words brought a lump to Maggie's throat. Her eyes began to feel hot as tears began to fill them. "Homer," she said. "Do you remember what Roman used to play that might have been your favorite?"

"Well, Maggie, the song he used to play so beautifully, but was so sad, was Lara's Theme from Dr. Zhivago. Do you remember that? Do you think you could play that?"

"Yes, I remember it, and I think I can learn it."

The next morning, Maggie drove into Goliad and bought Lara's Theme transcribed for violin. That evening, she practiced it in her room for about two hours. She found that it was not only a fairly easy piece to learn, it was indeed a very sad melody, especially when she played it slowly and softly.

On the following night, Maggie entered Homer's room with Roman's violin all tuned and ready to go. Homer sat up straight in his wheelchair with a large smile on his face. "Maggie!" he shouted, "I'll bet you have a piece to play for me. I can tell from the look in your eyes!"

"I'm indeed ready, Homer. You know, I never got a chance to finish "The Flower Song" that I started last week when your son came in and interrupted us. So I'm going to play it all the way through for you this time, and it's going to sound a lot better on this wonderful violin of Roman's."

Maggie stood in one corner of the room, while Homer parked his wheelchair in the opposite corner. When the first notes sounded, Homer leaned his head back and closed his eyes, keeping a faint smile on his face. When the piece was finished, Homer clapped his hands and cried, "Bravo!" Maggie did a flourish with her bow and bowed deeply as she held the violin high in the air.

"Now, Homer, for a special treat." Placing the violin under her chin, Maggie started very softly with "Lara's Theme." Homer nodded his head slightly in approval and once again put his head back and closed his eyes. This time the smile on his face was even broader. Maggie played the piece all the way through slowly and very softly. Then she repeated it, this time with a little more vigor and passion.

When Maggie had completed the piece, she stood smiling at Homer. But Homer remained still, the smile only slightly faded on his face.

"Homer? Did you like it? I'm sure it wasn't as good as the way Roman would play it."

There was no answer. Maggie walked slowly across the room and, leaning over, took hold of Homer's hand. It felt lifeless. Kneeling beside his wheelchair, she whispered, "Homer. Homer." Looking at his face, she thought that she had never seen Homer look so relaxed and at ease. But he was gone. Maggie dropped her face into Homer's lap, kissing his hands, and wept quietly.

To be continued...


Posted: 09/05/08