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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 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, they are writing this story, not me. We will continue as they direct. Again, thanks for the encouragement.
DANIEL'S LOVE
Michael A. Raburn
Chapter 9
"I'm going to get some more coffee. Anybody else want any?" Nina asked as she rose from the table and stretched. Gathered around us were endless piles of the documents we were searching through.
"Yeah, I think we could all use some. I'll go with you." Mikey offered.
"Thanks, guys." I muttered, turning the page of the thick, bound volume before me.
We had been in this cramped little room for a dozen or more hours leafing through the deeds and plats that chronicled all the land transactions in the past hundred years in the metropolitan Atlanta area. All that I knew about the cabin was that it was located on a lake in the northern area of the state. Kyle spent more time talking about the great fish he had caught and only relayed sketchy details about the land. He described it as near several small streams that fed the lake and that it was about an hour drive from his old house. His dad had gone fishing several times before he decided that Kyle was old enough to accompany him. That trip was one of the few happy times that they shared. Most of the time his father was too busy to be bothered with his growing son.
"I've got to get rid of some of this coffee. I'll be back." I said as I rose from my dusty pile of paper.
Wandering down the hall to the restroom, I flipped open my cell phone and called home. Nothing much was happening around the house Daniel explained. Cornelia had conned Jason into being her escort to a tea for the opera society that afternoon and Daniel was using the quiet time to work on his writing. I relayed our frustration at having to pore over the books and our lack of finding anything substantial.
As I exited the men's room I noticed a small plaque on the wall of the courthouse indicating the clerk of the Probate Court's office. Well, I had not thought about that. I walked down the hall and entered the sanctum of Melba Ross the clerk. A robust lady in her early fifties, she peered at me from around the towering stacks of file folders that cluttered every surface in the office. She listened intently to my story but seemed confused about what she could do to help. Her world consisted of filing the various documents and cases that were handled by the court. I thanked her and was turning to leave the room when she suddenly jumped to her feet almost knocking her computer monitor off the desk.
"Wait a minute, Mr. Jamison. How old did you say he is?" She turned to face the rows of oversized filing cabinets.
"Um, Tolison, Tollison, here it is. Helen Tollson." She said triumphantly as she pulled the folder from the drawer.
"Thank you, Ms. Ross. Can I borrow this?"
"Let's make a copy. That way you don't have to bring it back and I won't get in trouble for you leaving with court property."
I jogged from Melba's office back to the property records department trying to read the paper.
"I found it!" I yelled, throwing the door open. "Kyle's mother inherited three tracts of property on Oglethorpe Lake from her grandfather. In her will it was to pass to Kyle when he reached legal age but was to be administered by his father until that time."
"Where is it?" asked Alan.
"It doesn't say here. But, her maiden name was..." I drifted off as the search for the right plat books was on.
Three hours later we had located the books and the deeds to the original property at the lake. After checking several times through the updates we found where portions had been sold off over the years, leaving the three, 5-acre lots that were in her name. Although the three lots were close together, they did not join. Each had several streams indicated on the map; which one was the right one?
We arrived at Oglethorpe about four o'clock in the afternoon and stopped at a small convenience store that seemed to serve as a community hang-out. Its signs advertised fishing licenses, live bait, and ice-cold beer. Alan and Mikey went in to get sodas for the group as I spread the maps out on top of one of the cars. Alan had gotten two more guys from his office to accompany us, bringing our group to six.
"The old coot that runs this place knows George Tollson, but says he hasn't seen him since last summer when he and the boy stopped off here for bait." Alan reported.
"Well, that doesn't mean they're not here, does it?" Asked Nina, opening her soda.
"No, it doesn't. What if they are here? Paul I think we would all feel better if you'd let us bring the police in on this."
"Alan, we'll be fine. All were going to do is look around the lots and see if we can find the cabin. If we see anything, then we'll call in the police. Otherwise we're just wasting their time."
Pointing back to the map we surveyed the areas, searching for the best ways to approach each of the locations. Two of the areas had clearly marked roads that led onto the property but the third only indicated a sketchy trail. And none of them indicated any buildings that were onsite.
"Here, put these on. At least we can all stay in touch if anybody gets lost or finds anything." Alan handed us all headphones and packs that attached to our belts. "If anything happens, if you see anything, call out to the others."
"Okay, you two take this one." I handed a map to the two guards. "You and Alan take this one Mikey. And Nina and I will get this one."
"No way. I know you too well Paul. I'm going with you, Nina and Mikey can each take one of my guys with them."
"Alan..." I started to protest.
"No! You don't think sometimes about your own safety. I can't have you jumping into something you can't get yourself out of."
"Look here. I'm not helpless you know." I raised my voice.
"I'm not saying you are. But you get so wrapped up in taking care of everybody else that sometimes you don't worry enough about yourself. Just let me do my job." Alan pleaded.
"Well this looks like the right place on the map." Alan said, putting down the paper to look again at the vast wooded stretch in front of the car.
There was just the faintest indication of a path that led into the woods ahead of where he had pulled the car off the roadway. Parking in the scrubby weeds that lined the road we made our way out of the car. The evening sun was quickly setting so I knew that we would only have about an hour of light left to search the area. Alan, the always-prepared scout, retrieved flashlights and his rifle from the trunk of the gray sedan.
"Here, you know how to use one of these?" he asked, handing me a pistol.
"Alan, no. I don't want that thing." I protested.
"Do you, or do you not know how to use it." He insisted.
"Basically. It's been years since I shot." I answered, defeated. My maternal grandfather had taught me to target shoot back when I was in my teen years. They lived way out in the country of eastern Georgia and he insisted that I carry a gun with me if I wandered out onto the property. It was for snakes or rabid animals, he said. We lined old tin cans up on the fence out behind the barn and I would practice aiming and firing the pistol. Over the weeks I stayed with them that summer I had gotten pretty good at hitting the cans every time I aimed. But it had been over twenty-five years ago when I last picked up any type of gun.
Taking the pistol from Alan, I stuck it in the waistband of my jeans, totally uncomfortable that I even had the damned thing. Picking up the map and pocketing our flashlights we turned away from the car and started approaching the trail. The scrub grass and small trees were trampled looking and dry in the aftermath of the winter, yet the more established undergrowth was beginning to show the hint of the new pale green leaves that were waiting for the warmth of spring. The trail did not look like it had been used recently until I noticed what appeared to be tire tracks off to one side.
"I know what you're thinking, but we don't know that it was them." Alan piped in.
The trail sloped up gently from the roadway, leading us into the forest. Too early in the season for the tree frogs or cicadas to be singing, the woods were eerily quiet. The occasional birdcall and the cracking of branches under our booted feet were the only sounds that echoed around us. We trudged on trying to follow the elusive path through the trees. After we crossed the second stream we stopped to sit and rest a few minutes on the trunk of a big fallen pine tree.
I stood up and stretched, feeling a bit rested I noticed a fragrance in the air.
"Do you smell that?" I asked.
"I don't smell anything." Alan answered, sniffing at the air.
"Hmm, smells like wood burning." I muttered. "A fireplace, maybe."
"I still don't smell it."
We both jerked our heads around at the sound of an engine cranking. It sounded close, maybe just over the next small rise. Ducking down we approached the hill and saw a man getting into a relatively new model pick-up truck. He slammed the door then turned the truck around in the clearing of the cabin and gunned the engine.
"Fucking faggot's gonna learn..." he was muttering to himself, loud enough that we heard his grumbling as he passed our hiding place.
"I'm going around that way." Alan indicated with a sweep of his arm. "You go this way, but don't go in the cabin, just get close enough to look in the windows. We don't know when he'll be back."
"Alan, if I get a chance, I'm going to get Kyle back." I said as I stood up.
"Be careful."
"Right, boss."
Alan moved away from me, walking quickly but trying to be quiet. I eased myself up over the slope and headed off towards the right of the cabin. Stepping over the brambles and briars that ringed the clearing I moved along the side and approached the rundown, one-roomed shack. As I neared the window I was afraid of what I would find, had Kyle's father brought someone else up here to watch the boy? I peered up and over the sill to look in the window. Pushed up to one side of the room was a small bed, more like a cot, actually. On the other side of the room was a makeshift kitchen with a camp stove and lantern on the rickety old table. Underneath I could see a cooler and some boxes that seemed to contain food. Where was Kyle? Why wasn't he in the cabin?
As I was turning back from the window Alan's voice echoed through the headphones. "Paul, what do you see?"
"Nothing, he's not here." I spoke back.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement in one corner of the cabin. What had appeared to be a pile of clothes was moving.
"Wait, I see something. I'm going in."
"I'm calling the police." Alan answered.
I moved around the cabin to the side facing the lake where the door was and tried the knob. It was locked. I tried pushing against the lock but it would not budge, so I backed up and kicked at the door. On the second kick the door cracked around the knob and I was able to push it open. Running across the small space I started pulling back the mounds of clothes.
"Alan, we need an ambulance, he's hurt."
"On the way." He radioed back.
"Kyle, honey, are you okay." I asked, trying to awaken him.
He looked to be covered in dried blood, his hair matted with the sticky mess. Kicking away the rest of the mound I saw he was taped to the chair with rounds of duct tape that bound his hands and feet. His only clothing was a pair of tattered briefs stained with blood, urine and feces. I used my fingernail to try to loosen the strip of tape that sealed his mouth, hoping to remove it without taking the skin with it. He moaned softly as I pulled it away, then gasped loudly when he could open his mouth. His nose was broken and badly clogged with the clotted blood. He was having difficulty breathing through it and he probably would have suffocated if I had not gotten here when I did.
I used the pocketknife I carried to cut the remaining tape from his body and eased him into my arms. Looking around furtively to see if there was anything else he needed, I turned back towards the door and our escape. I kept talking to Kyle, trying to see how injured he was. There did not seem to be any broken bones, but the movement had aggravated his nose, fresh blood was running down his face. His face was badly bruised and puffy underneath the dried blood. What had his father tried to do? Beat it out of him?
Five minutes after I had entered the cabin we were leaving. When I bounced down the steps off the little porch Kyle moaned more loudly and began to squirm in my arms as if he was trying to get away.
"Shhh, baby. It's me, Paul. I've got you." I whispered to him.
"Oh, daddy." He croaked and snuggled back to my chest.
"Shhh, it's going to be alright. We'll get you out of here and back to Jason."
I heard the roar of the truck's engine in the woods and it was getting louder.
"Paul, we've gotta go. He's coming back. He must have seen the car." Alan yelled in my ear, loud enough for Kyle to hear.
"NO! He'll kill you if he finds you here." He wailed.
I pulled Kyle closer to my body, bringing my coat around his lithe body, turned and ran back towards the path. He was shivering from the cold and wrapped his arms around my neck to hang on. I had to get him away from here, away from the harm his father had caused even if it was the last thing I did. He and Jason deserved to be together, free from the hate and manipulation of the situation and by God, I was going to do it.
Alan caught up with us as the truck bounced over the rise and skidded towards us. Pushing me out of the way, he shouldered his rifle to aim at the driver but was knocked back by the right fender as the vehicle slammed to a stop facing Kyle and me. Alan was thrown back and hit a tree then crumbled to the ground, unconscious. I saw George bailing out of the truck, a gun in his hand, as I crouched and ran for the woods.
We had barely made it into the cover of the trees before the first shots zinged past my head to shatter branches in front of us. Determined to get away, I veered to the left in the direction I thought the car was.
"Come back here, you son of a bitch! Bring that little faggot back here!" he yelled, running behind us.
I knew I was running in the general direction of the road, but had no idea how far or near it was. I was afraid to turn on the flashlight so I could see better, afraid that it would give away my position. So, I continued to run from the sound of his voice, briars and branches tearing at my jeans and Kyle's legs.
Another shot zipped past as I stumbled up the rise that separated the cabin from the road. The voice was gaining on us, the shot sounded closer. On the other side of the slope I tripped over a fallen tree and Kyle and I tumbled down the hill. I saw George's head bob above the rise. He was too close for me to pick up Kyle and try to get away. Shrugging out of my overcoat, I wrapped Kyle in it and hid him behind the tree.
"Stay here and stay quiet." I whispered to him.
I reached to take the gun from my waistband and realized it had fallen out when we fell. Madly I began to search around me, scrambling around the area on my hands and knees. The shouting was getting louder and he was going to find us soon and I could not find the damned gun.
"Gotcha, you no good faggot. Now I'm going to blow your head off for messing with my boy."
The voice startled me and I looked up to see George about eight feet away aiming the pistol at my head. A movement to the right caught my attention; Kyle stood up and yelled. I could see my pistol clutched in his small right hand.
"No, dad! Don't shoot!"
"Shut up, boy. I'll get to you in a minute after I take care of this cock sucker for all his meddling." George spat angrily. "Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it."
I stood up and prepared to rush the man. His attention was on Kyle so maybe I had a chance to at least get to him before he could harm my son.
"My feelings exactly." I yelled back, running towards him.
"Any news?" Cornelia asked, running into the emergency waiting room, Jason pulling her forward by her hand.
"Kyle's almost finished. They've got him cleaned up and got his nose taped back together. He didn't have any other broken bones, thank God. He'll be up in a room soon the nurse told me." Nina explained.
The relief of knowing that his boyfriend was safe and going to be fine dawned on Jason. His legs crumbled and he fell over the arm of a sofa sobbing. Cornelia moved to pull him into her lap, caressing his hair.
"What about...?"
"Nothing yet."
"What happened?" Jason asked, sniffling back his tears.
"I'm not really sure yet. As best we can figure out with what we heard over the headphones, when Paul rushed George he fired. Evidently Kyle fired at the same time at his father. He's dead, by the way."
"Oh God! How? How will he get over this, killing his own father?" Cornelia asked.
"He was protecting the man he considered his father. I'm sure of that." Jason replied. "He'll be fine. And I'm going to make sure of it."
"No doubt there, kiddo." Nina laughed.
"Paul, I'm here. Wake up Daddy Bear. I need you." Daniel's voice cracked as tears returned to his eyes. "You saved our boy, but I need you to come back to me. I don't know what I'd do without you." He whispered in Paul's ear.
"Daniel, you need to get away from here some. Let Nina or Mikey take you back to the house for a little while." Cornelia pleaded.
"No, No! I can't leave him, what if he wakes up and I'm not here?" Daniel cried.
"Honey, it's been two weeks. You know what the doctors said."
"I refuse to believe that. He has to wake up. I need him."
"But, honey, he may never wake up. That damned bullet did so much damage, Dr. Wright said he might come to tomorrow, or it may never happen." Cornelia caressed Daniel's back. "And you've got those boys to take care of now."
Cornelia crossed the room and opened the door. Jason and Kyle, still in his bandages, entered with Nina, Alan and Mikey. The boys quickly moved to hug Daniel while he cried. The other three hung back to give the boys time to console their father.
Kyle released Jason's hug and climbed onto the bed beside Paul. Leaning down he whispered in his ear,
"Daddy, please wake up. I love you and Daddy Daniel needs you." He lay across the unconscious man's chest and hugged him. Jason moved to rub Kyle's back, repeating his lover's plea.
Turning back from the bed Jason spoke quietly to Daniel.
"Daddy, you come home with us. You need to get some sleep that's not in this chair." He urged.
"Daniel, we'll take you home so you can rest. You can come back tomorrow and sit with him." Nina urged.
"Okay." Daniel answered, dejectedly. He rose from the chair and reached to take the boy's hands. Leaning over the bed, he kissed Paul's lips and whispered, "Paul, I love you."
"Where's Paul?" Daniel almost cried when he reached the hospital room.
Rushing down the hall Cornelia called to him.
"I had him moved to a private room. Those damned doctors couldn't tell me why he had to be in ICU if he's stable. So I pulled a few strings." She stated.
"What'd you do?"
"Well, I called the chief of neurosurgery and had lunch with him. He agreed that if we got round the clock private duty nurses that there was no reason he had to stay in the unit. At least that way you'd be able to have a bed in the room with him."
"Has there been any change?" Daniel asked.
"No nothing really. They finally got the last of the tubes removed except that IV that's feeding him. The monitors are still hooked up, but otherwise, it's the same. Come on, he's down the hall."
"Mr. Avery, when did you get here?"
"Arthur, please. Rose and I flew in this morning and got here just as Cornelia was doing her "beat the doctors" routine. We've been sitting with him for the last couple of hours." He replied.
"How are you holding up, young man?" asked Rose Avery as she moved to hug Daniel. "How are the children?"
"Well, I got Kyle back in school yesterday. Nina's been taking care of him so I could spend more time here. Everyone was excited to see him back. I never knew he was so popular at that school. Kids and faculty both were stopping us in the hall to ask about him and Paul. I heard him crying last night and found Jason holding him. I don't think he's getting over this very well."
"What do you mean, about killing his father?" asked Arthur.
"No, not that. He has no regrets after everything that happened. He keeps dwelling on him being the cause of Paul being in this coma. I tried to explain it but he's not hearing me. Jason has tried too. He's supposed to spend more time with Margaret Johnson and if she can't do any good, we're going to a psychologist." Daniel explained.
"Oh, dear. If there is anything we can do..." Rose started.
"It'll just take time. He'll be fine. They'll both be fine."
"How about you, how are you doing?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine! I'm so goddamned fine, I can't stand it!" he yelled. "I'm so damned tired of saying that. All I want is Paul to wake up so we can get out of this hospital. He is the one I lean on, he is the reason I'm still alive, he's the center of everything that I am and I miss him so much even though he's lying right there. I miss his voice, I miss his arms around me." Daniel trailed off, tears streaming down his face. Rose pulled him into another hug.
"You know the funny part. Ever since he was shot, I can hear him talking to me when I sleep. At first it was just bits and fragments during my naps in that blasted chair. But that night they all convinced me to go home, I had a dream where he and I were walking through this park and we talked. It's like he's in my head and is telling me that everything will be alright."
"Honey, dreams can be pretty strange sometimes." Cornelia started.
"No, that's the weird part. They're not really dreams. I fell asleep holding his hand yesterday and he asked me about the kids, he told me to take better care of myself, that I'd need the strength, and he told me what to do about the opening."
"Cornelia, what are you going to do about the opening?" Arthur asked, trying not to let Daniel see his concern.
"I talked to grumpy butt last night. He's bound and determined to go ahead with it next week, no matter what happens. Too much has been arranged to back out or postpone it now."
"You can't be happy about that."
"No, but it's one of the few arguments I've ever lost. It's important to me that my family be there and..."
"Cornelia, we'll be there. It may only be the three of us, but we'll be there for you." Daniel said.
"I know you will honey. I just can't imagine..."
"I know, me either." Daniel whispered. "Paul had his speech worked out in his head and told me what he wanted to say. I went home last night and wrote it all down, I guess I'll read it during the ceremony."
"Daniel, I can do that if you want me to." Arthur volunteered.
"No, it's something I need to do for Paul, if he doesn't wake up in time."
"I'll be with you, Baby Bear."
"Did you hear that?" Daniel asked.
"What?" They all replied at the same time.
"Ah, it was nothing. I'm not getting enough sleep, I guess." Daniel explained, not wanting the important people in his life to think he was totally crazy.
"I love you and I'll always be with you, Daniel." Daniel more felt than heard the words.