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THIS WORK DEALS WITH A FICTITIONAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TWO MEN. IF READING ABOUT HOMOSEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS OR SEXUAL CONTACT BETWEEN TWO MEN IS EITHER ILLEGAL IN YOUR AREA OR OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READY ANY FURTHER.
ANY SIMILARITIES TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD ARE PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS WORK IS ENTIRELY FICTITIONAL.
Guys I really appreciate all the great responses you've sent me after that the original posting of Daniel's Love. Because of these letters and the multitude of requests I am writing the sequel. Since these characters have taken on a life of their own, I'm not sure how long this series will continue but there are several more chapters to follow. Again, thanks for the encouragement.
DANIEL'S LOVE
Michael A. Raburn
Chapter 4
"Gentlemen, let me apologize to you. If we had engaged our brains we would have arranged to meet you at another location, we could have flown down to see you in Houston. It was never our intention..." John Greenley trailed off. Marcie had called him from the lobby to meet us downstairs.
Daniel and I had slipped into the restroom to try to calm down. We spent a few minutes huddled together, kissing and caressing, splashed some water on our faces and returned to meet up with Marcie and were introduced to the president of Greenley Publishing.
"Better now?" she asked.
"Mr. Greenley, it's not your fault. We're okay now. I knew where we would be coming and didn't properly anticipate the fallout." I tried to explain to them.
"I can see now so much of Daniel's story and why it's so powerful. Come on up to my office and let's work out this deal." He escorted us to the elevator.
Four hours and a leisurely lunch later they had agreed to the terms and publication schedule. Marcie and Daniel had agreed to email revisions and suggestions to each other so we would not have to return to New York until the release and advertising party. Mr. Greenley shook our hands and handed Daniel an impressive advance check as we were leaving.
"Gentlemen it was a pleasure to meet you. Are you staying in the city tonight?" he asked.
"No, we've got return tickets. Our flight leaves at eight." I explained.
"I'll have Marcie accompany you back to the airport."
"No, that's okay. If you would have your driver meet us in a couple of hours. We've got something we need to do." Daniel looked at me, trying to figure out what I was talking about.
"Daddy Bear, what do we need to do?" he asked, slipping his hand into mine as we left the building.
"Daniel, I thought that since we're here already that we should go over to The Foundation." I answered, pulling him closer. Looking across the street I saw the colors of the triptych behind the glass façade. I wanted to visit my children and nothing would keep me away.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"We'll never get past it if we don't."
"Can I help you gentlemen?" the receptionist asked as we entered the lobby.
"No, thank you. We just caught a glimpse of those painting from across the street and wanted to get a better look." Daniel gestured towards the wall behind her.
"Sir, please hurry up. I can't let you just stand around loitering in our lobby..." she started.
It was like seeing an old friend. Sort of like that feeling you get when you return from a long vacation and see your own home, that sense of everything being right in the world and in your life. The canvases were exactly like the last time we were in the building, quietly guarding over the space. The images of children playing under the flowered trees, the swirling patches of color that formed the sky showed me how much my style had changed. These could never be recreated; I had changed too much. When I was offered the commission for the Garland building I was worried that too much of the Avery would influence me, that the works would be too similar. Now I finally accepted that these paintings would always be a part of me but the circumstances that followed their dedication distorted my perspective. I was no longer the same person.
I was still mesmerized, lost in my thoughts, yet I heard voices getting louder.
"Gentlemen, you'll have to leave now. You can't stay here." She had a decided edge to her voice.
"Look, lady. We have every right to be here. Do you not know who this is?" Daniel pointed to me.
"Listen bub, I don't give a good goddamned who he is. Get out!" she yelled.
"Daniel, I'm done here. Let's go." I reached to take him by the arm. Several people were gathering around whispering, trying to see what was happening.
"No, Paul. She's not going to throw us out of here. Come on. Let's go see Mr. Avery." He indicated towards the elevators.
"I'm calling the police. Somebody stop those bastards! I'll can't wait to see you two faggots thrown out on your asses." She screamed, reaching for the phone.
En masse the group turned at the quiet sound of someone clearing his throat. The room was suddenly silent, everyone looking at the distinguished man coming from the conference room. He turned to his assistant.
"Monica, escort this woman from the building and, how did she phrase it? 'Throw her out on her ass.' We do not treat guests to The Avery Foundation like this, especially not these guests." Mr. Avery stepped towards us, offering his hand.
"Paul, Dan, I'm so sorry for this. How have you been? You should have called me, I would have sent a car." He shook my hand then turned to Daniel who bypassed the hand and hugged him.
"Thank you, Mr. Avery." He whispered.
"You're quite welcome, young man. Let's go to my office. Monica, when you get done taking out the trash, bring us some coffee."
"Yes sir." She laughed and returned to her task.
We spent the next hour with Mr. Avery and Monica, catching them up on the developments since the dedication. He and Cornelia Garland had talked several times and she had invited him to the opening in Houston in April. He promised Cornelia that he would be there and was looking forward to a real Texas barbeque. They were almost as excited about Daniel's book deal as he was and wanted to attend that party as well. Our little group of friends and supporters was growing.
While Daniel and Monica were discussing the book, I took Mr. Avery aside and questioned him about how we could help him with the Foundation's goals. I mentioned that I wanted to make a donation to their fund when we were paid for the other commission, but felt that there had to be another way that we could contribute. Daniel and I agreed that education was the most important factor in helping children and wanted to do all we could. We batted around a few ideas then he turned to the other two.
"Monica, are we still funding that gay teenager group? You know the one at The High School of Arts."
"Yes, sir, we are." She responded.
"See if they could use a couple of speakers for maybe, um, January?" he looked at us. I nodded my understanding and agreement. "Paul and Dan want to get involved and I think it would be a great place to start. Positive role models are so important to kids, especially a group that doesn't have many."
"I'm sure we can work out something. Do we have your numbers? I'll call you when I get some dates worked out." She smiled at us.
"Paul, we'd better go if we're going to get to the airport on time." Daniel looked down at his watch.
First class was only about half full on our return flight to Houston. Daniel and I snuggled together, sharing a glass of champagne. He had his head on my shoulder and my arm around him.
"Baby, I'm so proud of you. Today was wonderful, seeing you in your element, knowing you were finally getting what you wanted."
"Daddy Bear, I'm only here because of you. Yes, today was pretty wonderful, except..." He trailed off. "You know, you didn't even look down as we were leaving the building. We were standing where it all happened and it didn't seem to affect you." He shifted enough to be able to kiss me.
"Oh, it affected me all right, but it also helped me to realize that that is the past and I can't change it. We can only go forward from here."
"I'm glad we're going to speak to that group. I wish there had been something like that when I was growing up."
"Yeah, me too. I would have had a much easier time accepting myself if I'd have known that I wasn't the only one that felt that way. You know, when we get back to Atlanta and get settled in I'd like to see about starting something similar in our neighborhood."
"Paul, that would be great. You sure you'll have enough time? You're pretty busy these days."
"You're right, but I'm thinking about slowing down some. I'm gonna let you bring in the money now that you're a big time author." I laughed and kissed him on the forehead.
"You could, you know. I'd be happy to support you. You could sit out by the pool all day drinking lemonade while I slave away on the word processor." He laughed.
"I'm only half kidding, baby. I don't think I'm going to take any more large commissions. I'd like to concentrate more on the gallery sales and not be so tied down to one project for so long."
"Whatever makes you happy. We won't need the money anyway. Garland is enough to keep us in food and supplies for the rest of our lives."
"Yep, we don't have to work. That's what makes it so good. We can choose what we want to do; you know, stuff that matters. I think I'm going back to teaching, maybe next fall. I need to call the college and see what they think."
"I'm sure they would be happy to have you back."
Cornelia's idea of a little going away dinner at Thanksgiving seemed to be turning into a full-scale social event of the season. We had expected a quiet, intimate dinner with her and her husband, but that idea was quickly squelched. We were informed that not only were shorts inappropriate for dinner but that it was black tie. Other than that proclamation we were told nothing else.
Daniel and I had spent the last week crating the completed paintings to be transported to and stored at the new building. The works that were unfinished, the easels and supplies were shipped back to Atlanta. I would complete them and have them trucked back before the deadline. We took the sketches for the surprise to a local studio to have the sculpture cast in bronze. I'm not sure how the conversation came up but Maria, the vegetable lady, knew a group of sculptors that would appreciate the work. It turned out that her son was one of several men that made their living by casting bells for the mission-style churches in the southwest. They assured me that they would have the work completed in time and would arrange with the contractor to have it installed right before the opening ceremony. We negotiated a price and I paid for the work from my budget and not the Garland's.
We planned to leave the Monday after Thanksgiving. The house in Ansley was basically finished. Amy assured me that everything was complete except the moving of our stuff from the warehouse and Robb and Mikey had taken that job upon themselves. We had been in touch over the last few months several times to discuss finishes, colors and fabrics. Without her working for us, we would never have been able to complete the project on time since we were out of town. We needed to find a special way to express our appreciation.
Thanksgiving morning I woke up in my favorite position, wrapped around my amazing, beautiful lover. I pulled that incredible long hair back from his face and nuzzled into his neck. That fragrance that was so distinctively Daniel filled my senses. I was so grateful for everything that he had brought into my life, his exuberance, his patience, his understand, but most of all his love. I thanked the heavens that this man had entered my life and had healed my heart. I also thanked the powers that I was able to be there for him when he needed me. Apart we only existed, but together we were unstoppable, complete, whole.
My emotions were on overload that morning. I was experiencing so many different feelings at the same time, overwhelming love and joy, total fulfillment, and an incredible state of arousal. Even though we had made love late into the night, my erection again was trying to find a way back into my lover's body. Moving slowly to not wake him up too soon, I reached around for the lube bottle, squirted some onto my fingers and found the opening. I gently eased my fingers into him to apply the lubricant then positioned my erect cock at his hole. He was still sleeping, but his body seemed to know what it wanted. His anus pulsed against my dickhead then relaxed, allowing me to slide into him. In one slow push I was totally inside him, engulfed by that unbelievable heat. I slowly retracted then pushed back in.
"Paul, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Daniel asked as he reached up to pull me down onto him. He reached up to wipe the tears that were streaming down my face.
"Nothing's wrong, baby. Everything is so right. I wasn't even aware I was crying. I've been lying here, looking at you, marveling at what we have together." I pulled my hips back and then slide into him again, establishing a slow, lazy rhythm.
"I love you too. Hmm. Do that some more, Daddy Bear." He moaned.
Nowhere to go, nothing to do except express our love. Our lovemaking varied widely from slow, gentle to more aggressive poundings, but this morning we were in no hurry. We caressed, kissed and nibbled anywhere we wanted and rolled around changing positions. I would be on top of him, in control of the movement then he would roll us over onto my back and he would be riding me. By unconscious mutual agreement we ended up with me on my knees and him in his favorite position, sitting in my lap. Since we got together this had always been our preferred arrangement, his legs wrapped around my body and our arms around each other's backs. He would rub up against my belly and I would thrust up into him. After who knows how long I sensed that Daniel was close to cumming. He began to shudder in my arms, becoming more frantic in his kisses. I took a few more strokes and quickly joined him in our shared climax. Daniel eased his legs from around my waist and pulled me down on top of him. We cuddled against each other and were both asleep in no time.
I awoke some time later to a knock and a piece of paper sliding under the door. Glancing over at the clock I realized it was already two in the afternoon. Daniel woke when I tried to get out of bed without disturbing him.
"What is it, Paul?"
"Don't know. Hmm. Cornelia's instructions for the day." I read the note.
"Good afternoon, my sons. Happy Thanksgiving. Have your shower then a leisurely snack will be ready for you on the patio. After you eat, finish packing all your stuff, then get dressed in those monkey suits. The car will pick you up out front at six. Dinner will be waiting. All my love, C."
"Wonder what she's up to this time?" I mused.
"Don't know, but you know how she is. We'd better do as we are told. God knows you don't want the wrath of Cornelia on our heads." He laughed.
"You're right about that."
At the appointed time the car met us in the front of the mansion. We both were a little sad to be leaving this house and the security and peace it had offered us for the last few months. The Garlands would never know exactly how much it meant to us to have them take us in and care for us. They would get a little indication at the dedication but even that seemed inadequate.
The driver gathered the two overnight bags and Daniel's laptop and escorted us to the rear doors of the limousine. He never indicated that he knew what was happening or where we were going when we attempted to get information from him. Thirty minutes later we arrived at a small airfield and were driven to the side of a rather large plane, the Garland corporate jet. Where were we going and what was Cornelia planning?
The flight attendant met us when we got out of the car, taking our bags from the driver. She escorted us up the stairs, stowed the bags and closed the door.
"Gentlemen, this way please." She motioned us to seats in the lounge. "Buckle up please for take off."
Still uncertain about what was happening, we complied with her instructions as the plane taxied to the runway. The pilot seemed to be in a hurry to get us airborne. I had never been rocketed into air that quickly. Daniel's fingers were squeezing my hand, hanging on for dear life.
The attendant returned. "Gentlemen, this way please."
We unbuckled and left the lounge, following her back to the main cabin.
"Surprise!"
Cornelia rushed up to hug and kiss us, dragging her husband by the hand. Behind her, laughing and waving, stood all the important people in our lives, Nina, Robb, Mikey and Alan, Amy and Bob the contractor, Mr. and Mrs. Avery and Monica, Mr. Greenley and Marcie, even Tony and Jack.
"Cornelia, I can't believe you did this for us." Daniel gushed, obviously excited by the outpouring.
"Nothing's too good for my boys. Go say 'hey' to everybody."
We were mobbed with hugs, kisses and handshakes. Tony and Jack were the last to approach us. I noticed they were holding hands.
"What's this?" I asked, good-naturedly, pointing at their hands.
"It's kind of a long story." Tony started. "After Mrs. Garland jumped down our throats about how we had been acting we ended up in the same group at Alcoholics Anonymous. One thing kinda led to another."
"But, I thought you were straight!" Daniel stared at Jack.
"Guys, I'm sorry for how I treated you. See, I was always a little in love with you, Dan, and that made me crazy. I couldn't be gay; my parents would have killed me. So I gave you a hard time to prove how macho I was. Boy was I ever stupid. Tony sort of showed me the error of my ways." He leaned into Tony's shoulder.
"Yes, you were stupid. But, I guess I'll forgive you, you big lug." Daniel moved to hug his former roommate.
"Wait a minute. If you ever do anything like you did before I'm going to wipe the floor up with you. Got it?" I jabbed my finger into Jack's chest.
"Yes, sir. It will never happen again."
"Drinks everybody! In the grand old southern tradition, we have 'with' and 'without' for those who don't imbibe." Cornelia called us to the bar. "To my boys and their success. May you love each other till the stars fall out of the sky."
"Here, here." Everyone echoed.
"To Mr. and Mrs. Garland for everything they've done for us and to the rest of our friends and loved ones." I offered.
"Here, here."
"To the love of my life, my Daddy Bear."
"Here, here."
"When's dinner?" I asked.
"Quit worrying. We'll feed you in a little while." Cornelia jabbed me in the ribs with her glass.
The pilot landed the plane in the same manner he used to get airborne. We appeared to be cruising quietly then suddenly we were soaring into the airport.
"Yeah, he gets a little carried away at times." Mr. Garland explained, laughing.
When we taxied to a stop at Peachtree Dekalb Airport two cars were waiting. We split the group up and piled into the cars. Due to the drinks and no food, Daniel and I were feeling no pain but were not drunk, yet. None of our questions about anything had been answered. Every time we would ask somebody would change the subject. I finally gave up trying to learn anything and got in the spirit of the evening's adventure.
As the car turned the corner off Peachtree Street into the Ansley Park neighborhood, I realized where we were headed.
"Daniel, we're going home." I hugged him to me, laughing and crying at the same time. "We're going home."
The gang cheered when I figured it out. Everyone must have pitched in to make this come true. The car pulled up in front of my, now our, little cottage. It was so beautiful, perfect in my eyes. All the exterior lights were on, lighting the gleaming paint and new landscaping and a Christmas tree shone brightly in the front windows. I was speechless at the vision before me. We made our way to the front door only to have it opened by a waiter. Daniel and I stood, arms around each other, looking in the door.
"Come on in gentlemen. Welcome home. It's all yours." The waiter stepped back from the door.
Amy and Bob took over the tour, leading us around the newly rebuilt interior. Everything that we had discussed was done perfectly. The fabrics, the paint colors, everything worked so well together. In the studio area, my easels and the unfinished canvases were set up, awaiting my return under the new skylights. Daniel's new study was completely ready for him. A half wall separated our areas, perfect for our style of working and being close. The bedrooms were just as I remembered them, but with new furniture. The portrait of Mrs. Scott had been placed above the fireplace in the newly enlarged den. Our new kitchen was full of people scurrying around with trays of food and drinks. Amy opened the French doors leading to the patio area. There glistening under the lights was our new pool. It was too cool for a swim, but they had had it filled anyway.
Buffet tables with food were along one side of the new pool house, a bar along the other. We would be eating outside tonight, even with the slight nip in the air.
"This deserves another toast." I said, reaching for a glass. "To Bob and Amy. Thank you so much for rebuilding our home."
"Here, here."
"Let's eat. I'm starved." Daniel said.
Everyone moved towards the buffet except Daniel and me. I pulled him away from the group and into my embrace and passionately kissed him. We finally broke our embrace when the others started kidding us about starving to death and not being able to live on love alone.
After dinner we congregated in the den, lounging on the new overstuffed sofas. Marcie stood to make sure everyone had a glass as Mr. Greenley pulled an envelope from his pocket.
"Daniel, we wanted to have it ready in time for your return to Atlanta, but the printing won't be finished until Marsh. So we brought you this." He unfolded the paper to reveal the dustcover for Daniel's novel.
"To Daniel Scott and 'Magnolia Spring'."
Daniel was overwhelmed. He took the dustcover and turned to me. "Paul, it's actually true. I'm a writer." He hugged me, tears welling up in his eyes.
"Yes, baby, it's true." I clung to my boy, so proud of his accomplishments.
He was carefully examining the paper and its soft watercolor rendering of one large magnolia blossom and leaves. "Wait a minute. This is your style." He leaned back and pointed to the cover. "When did you do this?"
"During those shopping trips you took with Cornelia. It was hard keeping you from seeing the painting before I could get it shipped to them."
"Sneaky. I didn't know you could keep a secret. Where's the painting?" he asked of Marcie.
"Hanging over the bed in your room. We had it framed then shipped it back to Amy." Marcie explained. "I hung it a little while ago so you wouldn't see it when we came in."
"Come on Daddy Bear. Marcie, show it to me." He grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the bedroom.
The gang joined us in our trek to the master bedroom. There over the bed in a beautiful gilt frame was the watercolor.
"Paul, you know, I'm sure I could sell that in the gallery." Nina joked.
"Back off, lady, that's mine." Daniel jabbed back, smiling.
The weeks between our return and Christmas were probably the happiest of my life. There was nothing pressing that had to be done, no one bothering us for anything. Daniel and I spent a few days winding down from the excitement of being back in Atlanta after three months in Texas, slowly unpacking and settling into our home. There were a few pieces of furniture that we rearranged to better suit our style, but nothing major. We had a few things to pick up like more linens, towels and some new dinnerware and accomplished that with a trip to the outlet mall north of the city.
I called the high school down the street from our house about starting or sponsoring a gay teenage support group and was directed to the guidance counselor. Mrs. Johnson seemed to be genuinely interested in our idea and wanted to meet us to discuss the plans. She agreed to meet us at the studio after classes.
"Mr. Jamison, it's so good to meet you and Mr. Scott. I've read so much about you both and I'm so happy that everything seems to have turned out so well for both of you."
"Please, we don't stand on formalities, I'm Paul and this is Daniel." I insisted, gesturing to Daniel who was bringing refreshments into the den.
"Then, call me Margaret. Ooh, these are wonderful!" she said, taking a cookie.
"Yeah, Daniel's trying to fatten me up with all his great cooking." I laughed.
Sliding into his spot on the sofa next to me, Daniel reached to pull my arm around him. "Margaret, you've got to understand Paul has an incredible sweet tooth. Don't you, Daddy." He snuggled in closer.
"How long have you two been together?"
"We met last June. I was working down the block at the deli and Paul came in famished from one of his infamous painting sprees. Sort of love at first sight, I guess." Daniel explained.
"Now I wonder how I ever lived without him." I added.
Daniel and I explained how we had become interested in forming the group or adding our support if there was already something similar. Margaret's eyes lit up at the mention of Mr. Avery and his foundation. Although we probably would receive no direct funding from The Foundation we would be able to call upon their experience and resources.
"We do have quite a problem with kids being attacked because they're different." Margaret explained. "Something like this, especially if we expanded it to include friends and supporters might make a difference in the level of violence we experience at school. Some kids are so afraid to even walk the halls by themselves, terrified that they will be beaten up just because they are different."
"I know from my own past that any support would be wonderful. It's terrifying to feel you are alone and that no one else feels the way you do." Daniel added.
"I'm going to ask this question only because I know some other people will. Do you view this group as some sort of recruitment idea? You know, to make more kids gay?"
I felt Daniel's body go rigid at the question. I pulled him tighter to my sides, wrapping both arms around him.
"If you think..." he yelled.
"Daniel, baby, calm down. Margaret, you know the answer to that question as well as we do. Nothing we could ever do would make a straight kid gay, or a gay kid straight for that matter. We're not recruiting for the cause." I chuckled.
"Daniel, I'm sorry for insulting you. You know how some of those people get with their 'holier than thou' attitudes. A lot of people, especially in the south still thump those bibles and misquote scripture to defend their positions."
"I know. I grew up with all that junk." Daniel lamented. "All we want to do is create a safe place, where for an hour or two a week, kids don't have to worry about who they are, what they say, or look over their shoulder to watch out for people wanting to bash their heads in."
We talked for another hour about how to organize the meetings and get the word out to the student body. Margaret would handle the arrangements for space at the school and deal with the administration. She already knew several faculty members that would agree to help host and sponsor the events. Daniel and I would be responsible for posters and announcements for the school paper and to find a range of speakers to lead discussion topics at the first meeting. We all wanted to get as many of the parents involved as possible; their support would be crucial. I agreed to speak at the next PTA meeting to explain the group and what we hoped to achieve. With any luck we could clear all the hurdles and get the group together in February or March.
"Another thing I want you guys to think about. There are a lot of kids out there that are thrown out of their homes when their parents find out about them. We work with Social Services to place as many of those children as possible in homes that are gay friendly. Do you think we could try to work that into our plans for the group? You know, maybe keep your ears open for people who would be willing to be foster parents?"
"Margaret, I'm not sure. We've never talked about it." I turned to look in Daniel's eyes. "Can we get back to you?"
"Of course, take your time. But, the need is very real and very urgent. We'd need to get people certified as foster parents but I know the judge and several of the caseworkers so that shouldn't be much of a problem. Just lots and lots of paper work."
"Margaret, thank you for your time. We'll think seriously about it and get back in touch with you." Daniel and I rose to escort Margaret out to her car.
TO BE CONTINUED...