I want to thank all of you who have stood by me during the writing of this story. It has been a long, difficult process, and I have to tip my hat to the authors who have been able to pull this off chapter after chapter.
I also want to take this opportunity to remind you that even though the characters are not practicing safe sex by no means should indicate that I agree. SAFE SEX IS THE ONLY SEX! That should be your motto. Practice this, please, because I CARE!
As always, this author craves feedback. Criticism only makes me a better writer. Please respond to Jaylovenj@comcast.net. I look forward to hearing from you.
From Chapter 26:
The cold rain continued to fall as the yellow cab pulled up along the sidewalk on West 14th Street. The lone figure walked up to the door, and stepped inside.
A familiar face became recognizable as the person surveyed the interior. Shelia walked over to where the person was seated.
"Annette," she stated calmly, settling into the booth opposite her friend. "You look well. "
"I am well, Shelia, at least I will be. I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Ronald..."
"Reynolds," Shelia finishes, as she gazes at the man sliding into the booth next to Annette.
Four Becomes Two: Chapter 27
"Mmm, good morning lover," I say as Greg snuggles closer in my arms.
"Good morning, yourself, tiger. What a lovely way to awaken."
"I couldn't agree more, having you in my arms."
A warm gentle breeze blows through the open doors of the connecting deck, billowing the fabric.
"So, what would you like to do today?" Greg asks, pushing his cute derriere against me.
"Well, after we make mad love this morning, I'd like to go over to the main island to one of my favorite beaches, Horseshoe Bay, and then back into Hamilton this afternoon to do a little shopping. We can't go home without something for the kids."
"Sounds good to me, especially the first part," Greg answers as he turns in my arms. "But first, come with me." He exits the bed, grabbing my hand, leading me into the bathroom. "Brush!"
We next climb into the shower, gently washing each other, teasing each other. I reach over and turn off the water after we rinse, and, grabbing a towel, begin to dry him off.
Once he is dry, I then quickly dry myself, and lead a giggling Greg back to bed. "It's not going to be easy making love to you while you're giggling like that," I say, lying on the bed next to him.
"I'm sorry," he says, trying to recover, "but you know how ticklish my tummy is."
"Oh?" I say, as I run my finger down over his abdomen. I bend my lips to his smiling ones, and soon all traces of laughter disappear as it is replaced with a moan.
"Oh, Dave," he moans, as I bring my lips to that soft spot on his neck that I love so well. "I hope we continue this after we're an old married couple." Greg arches his neck, offering me more of the sensitive flesh that I devour. He tastes so good! He'll probably have a hickey later.
I lightly kiss my way across his shoulders, nipping the muscled flesh there. "I can never get enough of you." My tongue snakes into his armpit, swirling through the soft, fine hairs there. Greg is starting to tremble with the desire that is building.
I leave his pit, capturing his pert nipple that is just within reach, sucking the nub between my lips and lashing against it with my tongue. A moan escapes Greg's lips as I continue to torture him. "Oh, yes, Dave, suck on that nipple!" he roars.
I move from one peak to the next, again clamping onto his man-tit, bringing him more pleasure evident by his squeals of delight.
I rake my face through the hair covering his taut abdomen, bypassing his pulsating member until my tongue lifts his hefty orbs. I suck the swollen orb between my lips. I love the feel of his hairy balls in my mouth.
I bathe first one, then the other, in my hot mouth before I move up and take suddenly the throbbing head of his mighty shaft, swirling around the crown greedily slurping the juices that are flowing.
I begin to bob my head up and down on his dick, fucking my face with his mouth. I move him into my throat, massaging the head. Greg's hips begin to move, filling me with his steely `dog.
The flow of his love juice is coating my tongue as I slurp up each pre-ejaculatory pearl.
I suction my way off towards the head, kissing my way from the crown to the base. I lick all around his crotch, bathing his nicely trimmed pubes with my spit; lathering his balls with my mouth's secretion until he is wet, the flavor of Greg in my mouth.
I lift his legs onto my shoulders, exposing his manpussy to me. I push my tongue towards it, becoming intoxicated by his flavor.
"Oh fuck, Dave. Eat me, please, eat me!" he moans, as his head rolls from side-to-side.
I can feel Greg open for me as I push my tongue beyond his spinster. That tight, round muscle clamps down on my tongue, and I can feel him pull me deeper inside as he begins to grind his hole up to me.
A hunger overtakes my thoughts, and I know that I have to have Greg...in this way. I plunge into that ass, taking him, chewing, licking, and loving.
Greg is all but delusional from the intensity of the feelings that are assaulting his body. "Oh God, Dave! Oh God!"
He grabs his dick, stroking, pulling, squeezing the life out of it, as his hand becomes a blur. I see his balls begin to contract into their sockets, being perfectly outlined, as they prepare to send forth their bounty.
I have to taste him. I move up, trying to capture him back in my mouth as the first spurt splashes against my left cheek. Greg jerks on his dick again, his stomach muscles knotting into hard cords, as I get another volley on the right side.
Finally, I pull him in, savoring the flavor of his nectar as he fires again and again and again, filling my mouth. I roll it around on my tongue as I hold him inside. My tongue swirls around his stalk, until he is too sensitive to hold.
He pulls me into his arms, and our lips meet. It's my turn to moan as he samples himself in my mouth.
"Dave, that was wonderful! I'm so...so..." He closes his eyes. I pull him close, and we nap.
"Mr.. Grant? I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is a Miss Shelia Daniels here to see you. She insists. She says it's important."
"All right, Hazel, show her to the conference room. I'll be with her in ten minutes." Evan unlocks his desk file drawer, and removes the confidential dossier that Dave Welsh had supplied regarding Miss Daniels.
"Impressive," he says aloud. "Looks as if she had a promising career before all of this happened." He notes her wins versus her losses. "Looks like she had a way with the legal system."
He reads on, taking note of her biography. By the time he completes the file, he feels he has some idea of whom Shelia Daniels could be.
He returns the file to the locked drawer, and rises from his desk. Slipping his jacket over his broad shoulders, he heads towards the conference room.
"You have an appointment in twenty minutes with the Sullivan Group," Hazel says, as he passes.
"Thank you, Hazel. If I'm not free in fifteen, please buzz me."
"Yes, Sir. Will do."
"Miss Daniels," he says, entering the room and closing the heavy door. "I'm Evan Grant. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
He takes apprise of Shelia's demeanor. She is a striking woman, her flaming red hair framing her face in a short, stylish cut. The clothing that she wears is of grand quality, a Donna Karin, or is it a Kenneth Cole? The shoes are definitely Pravda, as well as the bag she clutches.
"Thank you, Mr.. Grant, for agreeing to see me on such short notice," she says extending her hand. "I won't keep you, as I know you are a busy man."
"I'm assuming that this has to do with David Welsh..."
"Yes, it does, more specifically, our son, Micah. David has indicated that we were to use you as a contact for when I wish to see him. Well, that time has arrived. I desperately would like to see my son."
"I understand your impatience, Miss Daniels..."
"Shelia, please," she smiles.
"Shelia – but we still need to hear from your parole officer regarding the arrangements that Dave would like to make."
"If I may be so bold, what are those arrangements?"
"Things have to be worked out, but he is planning on having you meet at his home..."
"His house? You mean the apartment here in New York?"
"No, he has another location in mind."
"Oh, where?"
"I'm not at liberty to say," Evan says. "We should hear from your PO within the next day or so – by Monday at the latest. Just be patient. You'll see your son, soon."
"Well, then, I guess I'll just have to be patient, won't I?" She stands to leave. "Thank you, again, for your time, Mr.. Grant."
"Shelia? If I may be so bold as to offer a little bit of free advice. I've known Dave for many years. Hell, he and I have been friends since our college days.
I've always known him to be a fair person. He's trying very hard to make this situation work for you – for the two of you and Micah. It is not an ideal situation, the two of you, but don't let bitterness cloud what can be a great future for all of you."
"Thank you, again, Evan. I assure you that my only motives are to be reunited with my son, and provide a good and loving life for him. I have forgiven – truly forgiven – Dave, and Greg, and only wish them happiness. I just want the chance to prove myself, once again."
"I'm sure you will, Shelia. You strike me as a woman who has a level head on her shoulders."
"It's not easy walking around with a level on my head," she muses.
"I'll be talking to you in the next couple of days. I promise."
"What time is it?" Greg asks, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. "9:30?" He jumps up from the bed. "Come on, if we're going to the main island."
"Greg, you forget. We're rich. If we miss the launch, we can always get a water-taxi," I laugh.
The day was wonderful. We made the launch, and then found our way to Horseshoe Bay. The water was a little rough, but it was still nice. I had fun putting suntan lotion on Greg, and he on me. Besides, that little red bikini that he was wearing was worth the trip.
We stopped back in Hamilton, and bought a few items from the local stores for the children. There was a beautiful lace dress for Robyn, and we found a wonderful blue checked suit for Micah. We also managed to get them a couple of toys that we thought they'd like, and we picked up a beautiful scarf for Mrs.. Harrington.
"Dave? There's something I'd like to talk to you about, but I want you to hear me before you respond. Okay?" We had just finished making love, and were now in each other's arms cuddling on the bed.
"After the performance that you just gave me, you have my undivided attention," I tease, drawing him close, and nuzzling his neck.
"I'm serious, Dave," he says, grasping my trailing hands and holding them close to his body.
"Okay, I promise to be good. What do you want to talk about?"
"I've been thinking..."
"So, did you find out where they live?"
"No, Annette, I didn't. I'm not too sure about this. Why can't we just play by the rules?"
"Because those faggots are raising our children. And they fucked with us."
"But..."
"But what, Shelia! You forgot they were fucking each other while they were fucking us?"
"No, I haven't forgotten, Annette. But this obsession..."
"Obsession? You damn right I'm obsessed. I want my daughter back! And I thought you wanted your son!...Look!" she says, her voice softening. "We'll just get the kids, and go to Montana where we can raise them to be normal. How does that sound?"
"Okay," Shelia says, relenting. "Just as long as no one gets hurt. You've got to make Reynolds understand that."
"I wish you could have seen your face when you saw him," Annette laughs. "I' m just glad he's not as difficult as his brother. Who would have thought that psycho would have had a twin?"
"Yeah, who would have thought?"
"Mr.. Welsh? Mr.. Jefferson? You're leaving?"
"Yes, could you have someone come to our room for our bags?"
"Didn't you find the accommodations to your liking?"
"Oh, certainly! Everything was absolutely perfect!"
"Then I don't understand?"
"Mr.. Jefferson and I have some business that we must attend to right away. As a matter of fact, we'd like to know if we would be able to book the same cottage for the next six months? Of course, we'd pay, in advance."
"Sir that would be quite a large amount of money. That cottage is $315-a-night. That's approximately $60k."
"Okay, I'll be by to sign the charge. Meanwhile, can you send someone..."
"Oh, right away, Sir. Right away!"
The plane touched down at the Raleigh-Durham Airport in the hot North Carolina sun.
"Greg, if I may be so bold as to ask, what are we doing in North Carolina?"
"My grandparents had a farm here that I used to visit when I was a kid. They left the property to me in their will – Joe got the Nagshead property – and I have a plan."
We get into a taxi, and Greg asks him if he would take us to some rural address. He would give him direction as we went.
"What is this plan you have?" I ask, looking at the beautiful farmland as we traveled along the highway.
"Well, you know how I feel about the whole Shelia mess?" I nod my head. "I don't want her coming to our home – not yet, at least – until we find out what her true motive is – and I'm sure she has one.
"You were planning on bringing her to our home to see Micah, am I right?"
Again I nod.
"Well, I was thinking that we could fix the farm so that she would think that this is where we were living, and if there was any funny business, we could ferret out her plan here rather than at home. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah, I must admit it does. But, I'm hoping you're wrong. I want to give Shelia the benefit of the doubt."
"I know you do. There was a time...but you aren't that man anymore, I'm happy to say..."
"Not since we started seeing Dr. Diggs," I finished for him.
"Yeah...Oh, driver, take the next left, and you can enter into that drive over there."
What was before us was a beautiful piece of property with a rather large, white house sitting back from the road. To the left, sitting a few feet back was an old barn with a horse corral attached.
We paid the driver, and mounted the few steps to the covered porch. "Joe? Are you here?" Greg called. A lanky young man came into the room from the back, a sandwich in his hand.
"Hi guys," he says, "glad to see you finally made it."
"Hi Joe," I say, looking around me. The house was spacious and homey, a good, sturdy farmhouse. It spoke of comfort...familiarity...welcome.
"Welcome home," Greg says turning to me with a big cheesy grin. "What do you think? Do you think this is going to work?"
"I have an idea of what you're thinking, but you really haven't told me the plan," I answer.
"Come on, let's sit. You know how I feel about Shelia. I don't trust her as far as I can throw the Washington Monument."
"He came to me, Dave, with his concerns," Joe interrupts.
"So, Joe reminded me of this place. To use as an alternative when I told him what I thought you were thinking...about bringing that woman to our house. Joe is the one who pointed out that she could see a letter; get the phone number; or even notice the license plates on one of the cars..."
"Even one of the staff could tip her off," Joe adds.
"And almost at the same time, we both thought of this place. It's spacious, there's not another neighbor for the next five miles, and there's enough land that we were able to put in a landing strip. So we can still fly her in. She'll just be a few hundred miles further south that we had originally planned."
"He loves you. He really and truly loves you," Joe says, as he sits down in the chair next to mine on the front porch. Greg was upstairs taking a nap, and left me to my own devices as he got some rest.
"I know he does, Joe, and I love him. How do you feel about that? Knowing that your brother loves another man."
"Honest?"
"Yeah! I would expect nothing less from you."
"Okay. I'll admit it. At first I had a problem with it...the two of you...guys. I mean, I didn't want my brother to be a fucking homo. Sorry."
"No problem, Joe. Go on. I asked for your honesty. You should never ask a question that you're afraid to hear the answer, my father always told us."
"How did you first hear about – us?" I ask.
"Greg told me. I don't think he meant to tell me, but he had to justify his actions, and I guess he wasn't in any mood to make up some excuse. Besides, we had never kept any secrets from each other before."
I give him a quizzical look, and he continues in explanation. "It was when you were in the hospital, shortly after your attack. I had come to New York for a visit. You had been attacked, and Greg was sitting vigil at your bedside, since your girlfriend was busy with a case. At least that is the reason he originally gave to me.
But, he stayed right there.
It was the night before I was to leave. You were in a medical coma the doctors had induced. I went to the hospital to say my goodbyes, and when I got to your room, and opened the door, I found Greg sitting there holding your hand and sobbing. He was saying how much he loved you and that everything would be all right. He didn't know I was there – at first.
He finally had to confess to me his feelings for you. He begged me not to judge, but of course, I took it as a personal affront to my own masculinity.
I had always looked up to Greg. I wanted to be just like him. He's the reason I got interested in law. I didn't want him to be gay. He was not supposed to be gay. And I blamed you. I'm sorry for that, I didn't understand.
"Joe, I..."
"No, let me finish, Dave," he continues as I try to interrupt. "Gays were freaks, an abomination, were surely going to hell, and I didn't want that for my brother. I saw him as less than a man. I stormed out of the room, loudly calling him a `fucking faggot', and telling him I hope you'd both die.
Unfortunately, I think I am the one who broke the news to both of your girlfriends. They were getting off the elevator as I was getting on. So when they saw how angry I was, and asked, I told them that the love birds were getting along just fine, before storming off. I'm sorry. I guess I'm the cause they went kind of crazy."
I was silent, absorbing everything that Joe has just said. This kid, young man, was thinking that he caused all of our problems.
"I hope you and Greg can find some way to forgive me for my actions, my words, and my thoughts," he says.
"Joe, believe me, we don't and won't harbor any ill feelings for you. You're our brother, and we both love you. There is nothing for which to be forgiven."
"But if I hadn't said anything then maybe this would have never happened."
"Joe, I had already been attacked by the time you learned of our relationship. You didn't cause our difficulties. Things were already in motion when you came upon the scene. So, don't take this burden upon yourself. Okay?" I smile at him.
"Thanks. You're a good guy, Dave."
"Are we okay now?" I ask.
"Yeah. I had a talk with a friend of mine – the guy I was staying with while I was in town. He confessed to me that his brother is gay – has been all his life. Then he asked me why? Why would anyone choose a life where they will be taunted, hurt – emotionally, and possibly physically – if it was a choice? He said that Greg had probably always been gay, but had suppressed his feelings because of the society we lived. A society that scorns anyone who is different.
Then he said something that really made me think. He said that God made everything different. Even the snowflakes are different. No two are exactly the same. No animal, no plant, nothing is identical. Environment and circumstances make everything different. If that's the case, then why would we think that every human is the same, or should be the same? Why wouldn't God, in his infinite wisdom, continue that pattern in His greatest creation, Man?
If we can't accept the differences here in this life, why would we be accepted in His kingdom?
All of this made sense to me, and finally, I had to agree. Plus, I see the way he looks at you, and his devotion to you, and yours to him. I only hope that I can find that one day. You're a good guy, Dave, and I'm happy Greg found you."
"Yes – he is," says Greg, coming out of the house, and giving me a kiss.
"Ugh," Joe groans. "Take it inside."
"You'd better get used to it, little brother. I can't seem to keep my lips off him."
"Hi babe! Did you have a nice nap?"
"It was lonely," he pouts. "Would have been nice to have some company."
"You're a horny little pup, aren't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh, this is way too much information," Joe chuckles, as he gets up and goes back inside. "I'm going to fix dinner," he says over his shoulder.
The next day was rather busy for us. Seeing that it was Saturday, Greg and I had a lot of things to accomplish.
We head down the stairs, finding Joe in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal.
"Good morning, little brother," we both say cheerfully.
"Good morning, loud people, emphasis on loud," Joe responds. We both blush with obvious embarrassment.
"What's this?" Greg asks, pulling what looks to be straw from his hair.
"It was so noisy, I slept in the barn."
"Probably jerked off in the barn," Greg teases.
"That's for me to know, and for you to wonder about."
"I'm sorry, Joe," I say. "We didn't know we were that noisy."
"Don't worry about it. You guys were mild compared to Mom and Dad. I probably got this when I was feeding the horses."
"Oh, I remember," Greg says. For the next hour, the boys tell tales of Penny and Dean's exploits. We have fun laughing and talking as we hear the stories of their times on the farm.
"So, what's on the agenda for today?"
"We're going to tour the farm, and scope out a few places that we'd like changed. We want you to hire the contractors. There's enough work two to three contractors. They'll each need a full crew, and need to be able to start Monday. Money is not an option. Agree to a fair, but reasonable cost for the time frame involved, and the amount of work and materials needed. Tell them that there will also be a bonus involved if they are able to do the work necessary in the time frame."
"What's the time frame?" Joe asks.
"Two weeks," I respond.
"Gotcha!"
Greg's plan was to make the farm look lived in before Shelia visited. This would cement the idea that this was our home. And it just couldn't be any type of décor. It had to have the look and feel of children if our plan was to work.
At Greg's request, Joe had spread the word that we would be interviewing contractors for some major renovations on the farm. So that morning we had a total of ten men vying for the position.
We selected three contractors, not for their low bid, but because of the time frame. We made it understood that there could be no delays. Things had to be accomplished rather quickly. One was to work on the house; another the barn; and the third, the landing strip that we needed to accommodate the plane.
"Every member of your team is looking for a $3000 bonus, if it the job comes in on time, and each of you as general contractors, a $5000 bonus," I say.
"It all hinges on them there permits," one guy states.
"Don't worry about the permits. You'll have them on Monday. I promise. Now, would you care to see the plans that Joe has had drawn?"
"This place is beautiful," I say to Greg. We are riding on a tractor we found in the barn around the property. A lot of the land has remained undeveloped, with lots of tall pines still covering the land.
"It extends to the river on the north side, and from where the house sits, extends approximately five miles in either direction. There are two more farms on the land. Granddaddy had leased them to the families that live on them for a quarter of the profits they produced.
Even in the lean years, when money was tight, the farms were moneymakers."
"How long has this land been in your family?"
"It was originally surveyed in the early 1800s, prior to the Civil War. So, I guess we're talking around 175 years. Developers over the years have inquired about the purchase of it, but, as my mother says, it's heritage."
"Did your grandparents own slaves?"
"Nah – there were Blacks on the property, but they shared in its prosperity. It was rumored that this was a safe place for the Underground Railroad, but the numerous raids that happened could never turn up any proof. And great-grandfather took that knowledge with him to his grave."
"Wow," is all I can say. "If the rumor was true, then you have to really admire their courage. I mean, we are really in the South."
"Yeah, we are. And I do. I'm proud to be of their lineage." He pulls over into a clearing. "I thought that this would be the perfect place for the runway. It's flat, solid ground, and we're about a mile away from the house. What do you think?"
"Perfect!" I say.
"And there's a storage shed about a mile up the way that we could convert into a little waiting/rest area. Do you think we can get everything accomplished in the time frame?"
"Well, you have wisely chosen Joe to oversee the project. I have no doubt that he will get things done. Plus, the bonuses will make the men work harder to accomplish just that."
"I'm writing the checks on this," Greg says defiantly.
"It doesn't matter who signs the checks. This is for us."
"But you're always using your money," he whines.
"Don't you understand," I say, taking him in my arms. "I don't have money. We have money. I never spent a penny before you came along, so I have a lot to catch up on. Besides, we could never spend all that we have now."
"You know, I've been thinking," he says, as we climb back onto the tractor.
"About what? Getting comfortable seats for the tractor?" I laugh. "I wouldn' t be so sore if someone hadn't abused my body last night."
"You loved it!" he retorts. "No. Dave? I was wondering about something you said a long time ago."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. One night we were talking about how lucky we are when you said you would love to find a way to give something back."
"Yeah, I remember that."
"Well, I was wondering what you would think about us funding our own charity to do some work."
"What did you have in mind?"
"I've always dreamed of one day winning the lottery with enough money that I could develop some property with which I could help families. This rich country of ours has so many families – men, women, and children – that are living on the streets."
"What are you proposing?"
"Well...what if we buy up a few of the buildings, renovate them into apartments, and put the families in them. We could provide training, or re-training towards better employment, while giving them an address so that they can apply for assistance. At the end of their training, we can assist them in finding employment.
We'd require them to pay a small amount of rent each month. We can put into a trust account so that at the end of their training, they can move so that that space can be made available for someone else, and the cycle would continue.
Eventually, we can put hundreds, maybe thousands, back into the workforce. It's appalling how many families are homeless because of downsizing...displacement...and closings. What do you think?"
"I think that that is a wonderful idea, and ambitious."
"It is, but I'm sure that if it's proposed correctly, we can get other's, including the government, interested. Right now, our personal growth hovers around the six billion mark, not including the trusts of the children. It looks as if it is going to increase considerably more with the opening of P.I. And, if we combine with the Donald as you suggested in opening a casino, it's going to increase even more. We can put those profits to good use. After all, we do have more money than we can spend in a lifetime."
"I like the way you think, my dear. Okay! You do the research. Put together a team to do the legwork, and write the proposal. Use whatever name-dropping you have to do to make contacts, and we'll take it from there. Deal?"
"Deal!" We climb down from the tractor and walk towards the house.
"Dave? Your cell was ringing, so, I answered it. It was your brother, Rich. There's a problem in Chicago. I think you should call."
From Chapter 27:
"I just love this place," Shelia says as she comes into the room. I pour her a drink.
"Thank you, Shelia. This wonderful man gave it to me," he says, looking directly in her eyes. I knew it was a dig, and the look I gave him told him so.
"Oh, I didn't know Dave had given this place to you." I can hear the pain in her voice.
"Yes, it was right after the bombing."
"Oh." She takes a long swallow of her drink, asking for a refill. "The children are wonderful. And they've grown."
"Just like weeds," I say. "They're outgrowing their clothes as fast as we can buy them."
"Oh, that reminds me, I have some outfits for them in my bag."
"Shelia," Greg begins, "you alluded to something you wanted to tell us about."
"I do. And it's not pleasant. It involves...Annette."
Four Becomes Two Chap 28
"Shelia! What the fuck are you talking about. Annette's dead!"
"She was killed in that prison uprising," Greg adds.
"I can assure you that Annette is not dead. I've seen her, and I've talked with her. I'm afraid that time has not soften Annette's heart. She is still as bitter and as vindictive as she was. Annette is bound and determined to take Robyn away from you, and I want to help you stop her."
"Why should we believe a word you say?" Greg asks.
"Because I can't bear to be separated from my baby again. You two have given me an opportunity. I remember all those months locked up; I remember the nights I cried not knowing where my son was at; not knowing if he had a cold, or even a skinned knee.
I wasn't there to kiss away his pain. I wasn't there to take him to the park, or even read him a bedtime story. And I realized it was no one's fault but my own. I don't ever want to have those feelings again."
"Shelia, you could be taking a big risk here, or you could be trying to play us. If it's the latter, they won't even be able to find pieces of you. Do I make myself clear? I won't even leave anything for Greg."
I go to the phone, and call Evan. "I'll be there," he says before I disconnect. Then I place a call to Rob and Bryan. I get the answering machine, and leave a message for them to call me back.
Twenty minutes later, the phone rings. It's Bryan. After I tell him what's going on, he assures that he and Rob will do everything to help.
"Scott will have the plane at the hangar at eight. Evan will also be on the plane with you."
"I might know of someone else who might be of service," Bryan says. "I'll bring him along."
"Evan, Bryan, and Rob are coming in first thing in the morning," I tell them both. "They are also bringing someone Bryan said might be very useful to
us."
"Shelia, are you telling us everything?" Greg asks.
"Yes, Greg, that's all I know. Annette is crazy. She even alluded to me that if I stood in her way...We've got to stop her. I think she would even use Micah in her plan."
"Why didn't you tell us three months ago when she contacted you?" I ask.
She takes a heavy sigh. "Truthfully, her plan at first intrigued me. I mean if things went the way that she envisioned, I would have my son again. But the more she planned...and then to bring Reynolds' brother into it...she's crazy. He's only after one thing, revenge. And I know he isn't above hurting either one of us, the children included to get it.
Besides, you and Gregory were so forthcoming in letting me see Micah. All the things you have done, and are doing, have convinced me that Micah has a wonderful life here. I'm just grateful that you are letting me in it."
"I can't believe that she's out there," Bryan said, as Shelia finished retelling the tale once again of Annette's plan to kidnap the children, and end it once and for all.
"She's insane," Shelia said in a low voice.
"Yeah, it sounds like it. Now that we know what's planned, what are we going to do about?" Rob asked.
"Arrest the bitch!" Greg said.
"We could arrest her on conspiracy charges," Evan said. "But unfortunately, we only have the word of a co-conspirator to hinge this on Sorry Shelia. She 'd be free in a matter of hours. And besides, we really don't have enough evidence to warrant a police investigation."
"Then what are we going to do?" my love asked again, worry even more etched in his voice.
"We're going to play this out!" I say. "I've got an idea."
For the next five hours, we worked, covering every detail of the idea that I had. I was happy to have the people I had around me, each offering valuable pieces to complete the puzzle until every minute was accounted for. Of course, a major portion of the plan hinged on Shelia's participation. She seemed eager to help.
"Shelia," Greg began. Greg and I had prepared dinner for the five of us. He and Shelia were loading the soiled things into the dishwasher. "Answer me truthfully. If you didn't feel that Annette would turn against you, if she hadn't threatened you, would you have been so willing to help us? And why should we trust you? How do we know that this isn't part of the original plan? To give us a sense of security while the three of you carry out the real plan?"
She walks over to the breakfast nook, taking a seat in one of the chairs at the table. Greg follows. She looks into his eyes before she speaks. Greg can see the worry and angst within.
"Greg, I don't blame you for not trusting me. Hell! I wouldn't trust me if I were you. But I'm telling you the truth.
To answer your questions, in all honesty I can truly tell you that if I thought for one moment that Dave and you were not the best parents that I have seen, and that my little boy was not truly happy, I would endorse Annette's plan in less than a heartbeat.
But I've seen with my own eyes the kind of fathers you both are. There is nothing but love in your eyes, in your actions, and in your lives.
I – I don't have a pot to piss in, and Annette has even less. And she has hate in her heart. Hate I don't want either of the children to ever learn or experience. What she wants is not out of love for Robyn, as she claims, it's borne out of revenge. Revenge for what she feels has been done to her.
You had the audacity to fall out of love with her, and in love with someone else – a man, no less. You rejected her. She had been the ones to sever her earlier relationships, not the other way around. Plus you left her pregnant with Robyn. Do you know I had a hell of a time convincing her not to have an abortion? That's how angry she was. She was going to give the baby up for adoption, but she saw her. And I think in that moment, she fell in love. But the hate was still there.
You're right. I'm afraid. Afraid of what can and will happen if we don't stop them. How will I ever explain to Micah, or Robyn, that I was a part of a plan that took you away from them? Yes, I was once willing to cut you out of their lives, and yes, I did some horrible, horrible things. Things that I will never be proud of, things that I pray someday you'll be able to forgive me for doing.
But I swear to you now, I'm on your side. Besides, you and Dave both promised me that if I did anything to hurt your family, there wouldn't even be pieces to identify," she smiled.
"I'm glad you remembered that," Greg says, not smiling. "We meant every word."
"It's a good thing that Annette has this penchant for jewelry," Bryan says, coming into the war room, as the den had become known. He goes to the computer and types in some numbers. Immediately, coordinates appear on the screen, signifying that the device he held in his had was working. "GPS. I love technology," he remarks.
"Let me see it," Shelia says, going over to him. "It can't be too expensive. She knows that I can't afford much on my salary."
"It's not," Bryan assures. "10k gold. Cheap, but not too cheap. It should do the trick."
"This is a wonderful picture of Robyn," she comments.
"It's a good thing she admired the one you wear," he says, referring to the locket that Greg and I had given Shelia.
"Suppose she has a way of detecting a tracking device?" Shelia asks, worry in her face.
"Don't worry. The bug that we're using is untraceable. It was developed by the C.I.A. My contact says that is what they use to track suspected terrorists. It only emits the highest of radio frequencies. Unless the special code is used, as I've done here," he says, pointing to the computer, "the frequency would be confused with normal gamma rays bombarding the Earth from the Sun."
"Ingenious!" Shelia says.
"Now, you just have to get her to wear it," Greg adds.
"No problem, I assure you. She'll want to keep Robyn close to her heart."
At that moment, Rob and Connor come into the room. "Everything is in place."
"We've covered the outside, the entrances, hallways, and the children's bedroom with the cameras. Outside, everything overlaps within a thousand mile radius, so that not one square inch is invisible," Connor says.
"And your special surprise is almost ready," Rob adds.
"Connor, you and your guys are fantastic," I say. "There's a generous bonus in this for all of them."
"Thanks, Dave. It's easy helping out – friends. And I'm sure the guys will appreciate the bonus." He exits from the room, going to check on his men.
"I'm about a block away," Shelia says into her cell phone. She is in the back of a taxi heading to the same dingy bar that she met Annette at that night not too long ago.
"Are you sure you can do this?" I ask.
"Dave, stop worrying. I know what I have to do. I have to protect my child. I can't let this mad woman do anything to hurt the children."
"Shelia, thank you. And I promise you, if everything goes as planned, this will not be forgotten."
"I have to go Dave. We're here." She opens her purse to pay for the taxi, seeing the small jewelry box contained within. Absentmindedly, she fingers the locket that hangs around her neck as she awaits her change, leaving the driver a generous tip.
Taking a deep breath, she exits from the car, and walks to the door. Everything is as she remembered from the last time. The bar to the left, the stare of the same faces as before.
She made her way towards the back, to one of the booths along the back wall, back to where Annette sat with Ronald Reynolds.
"Glad to see you made it," Annette remarks as she slid into the booth.
"Annette. Ronald," she responds.
"So, how did things go?"
"Let me order a drink, and I'll tell you all about it." For the next ten minutes, she recounted her weekend with the children, embellishing here and there, playing on Annette's maternal instincts.
"That should have been my time with my daughter. It isn't fair!" Annette says, venom in her voice. "But that's going to change – soon!"
"Damn right it will," Shelia says. "Our children belong with us! Not those faggots."
"That's quite a change you've made," Annette says, eyeing her suspiciously. "What happened to change your mind?"
"Greg," she says, matter-of-factly. "He's such an asshole. And Dave just agrees with everything he says. Honestly, I don't see what you saw in that man. He does everything he can think of to make my life miserable."
"Well, I told you not to trust them. Did you find out where they live?"
"Yeah. Maryland. Get this! Dave built him a fancy mansion overlooking the bay. Gorgeous house, like I told you before. But they were a little more careless, this time. I got an address. It was on a letter or something addressed to someone named Mildred Harrington. I guessed they missed it when they were putting things out of sight."
"Good! What is it?"
"It's on White Oak Drive in Glen Burnie, Maryland. Number 5273 White Oak Drive, Glen Burnie. I drew out, as best I could, what the place looks like."
"Hold that for right now. We'll meet tomorrow at this address," she says handing Shelia a piece of paper.
"What's this place?" Shelia asks.
"My brother's old place," Reynolds' remarks. "Kind of fitting, ain't it?"
"Bring everything you have. We have some planning to do."
"Oh," Shelia says to Annette. "I realized I was being an ass the other day..."
"More like a wuss."
"Okay, a wuss the other day. So, I bought you a present," she says, reaching into her bag, pulling out the small box. Reynolds eases the knife he had his hand on back in its sheath.
"What's this?" Annette asks.
"Just a little peace offering. I saw how you admired the one that I had, so when I saw this..."
Annette opens the box, pulling out the cheap gold locket. Opening the clasp, her voice catches in her throat. "Shelia..." She sees the picture of Robyn in there. One that was taken while she was on the swing, sunshine streaming off her golden flaxen hair, a big smile plastered on her face. Annette looks over at Shelia.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Shelia asks.
"Very. Thank you." She places the locket around her neck.
"Just thought you should have something to remind you of why we're doing this," Shelia says.
"So, how do you think things are going?" Greg asks as he comes into the War Room.
"Good. The signal is very good. We've pinpointed their location on 14th Street in New York. They're moving. See, there they are," Rob says, pointing to the monitor. "Heading into the subway." We follow the locket, and the suspects, on the train heading into Brooklyn.
We pick them up again as they emerge from the station in Flatbush, and follow them to an apartment building where they go inside.
"Hello," I say, answering my cell. "Hi Shelia. How'd it go?" For the next fifteen minutes, Shelia recounts her meeting with Annette and Reynolds.
"She was extremely touched by the locket. I felt sort of guilty, Dave. I mean, she was once my best friend."
"But you don't know this Annette, Shelia. She's not the same person anymore. She's changed, for the worse."
"You're right, I guess. Anyway, we're supposed to meet tomorrow – to start making plans."
"Alright, everything is in your court now, Shelia. We need you, and your son needs you. Without you, we can't make this work, and someone might get
hurt."
"I understand what I have to do, Dave," she says, a little tension in her voice.
"I know, I know. It's just that I'm scared, Shelia. We've got to stop her – them. We..."
"We'll be alright Dave. I won't let Annette cause any more trouble. For Micah's sake."
"For Micah's sake." I hang up the phone. "You heard?" I ask, turning to the others in the room.
"Why don't you guys get some sleep? Bryan and I are going to monitor them tonight. Go on! Go to bed."
"Thanks, Rob. Come on, babe," Greg says, taking me by the hand.
"Call us..."
"You know I will."
As usual, Greg and I showered together, and then climbed naked into the bed, trying our best to go to sleep. Greg seemed mighty calm; I was the one that was agitated. I knew that if I kept tossing and turning, Greg wouldn't get a moment of rest tonight.
I finally got up and, grabbing my robe, wandered across the hall to the nursery. The children weren't there. We opted to have them taken to my parent's house in Chicago.
Dad was doing a lot better, up and around, and demanding that he was perfectly capable of having toddlers around. Mom was grateful when Penelope and Dean decided to accompany Stephanie to Chicago. They had really bonded to the Jeffersons, and that was endearing to Greg's and my hearts.
I sat in the rocking chair where I often sat with one of the children, rocking, not thinking of nothing in particular. I knew that everything would either go right tomorrow, or go terribly wrong.
If it went right, then we would never have to worry about Annette, Reynolds, or Shelia ever again. Yes, even Shelia was caught up in this because if she set us up, then we would have to deal with her, too.
This seems like the perfect plan, but there is no such thing as the perfect plan. Any number of things can go wrong. What do they say about the best-laded plans of mice and men?
The only good thing about this is that it was going to happen on our turf, here at our house. Everything was in place, tested, and re-tested. I trusted everyone involved. The only variables were Shelia, Annette, and Reynolds.
The hand on my shoulder caused me to start. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Greg says, kneeling by my side.
"I didn't mean to wake you."
"You know how hard it is for me to sleep when you're not there, and I reached out for you, and you were gone."
"I'm sorry, babe. I was tossing and turning and didn't want to disturb you."
"You want to talk about it?"
"They're so innocent, Greg! They're our babies. How can anyone be as cold as these...these people? How can they want to separate us from them?"
"It's not going to happen. Thanks to you, thanks to our good friends Rob, Bryan, and Evan. And even thanks to Shelia it's not going to happen. We have everything in place, and I have faith in what we've decided. Rob and Bryan know their every move."
"But suppose we were outsmarted by Shelia. Suppose she is playing both sides against the middle?"
"I – At first, I wouldn't have trusted Shelia as far as I could toss this house. But, like you said, she's not the same Shelia we knew before. This Shelia only has the best interest of her son in mind, his safety and well-being. She sees that he's happy, safe, and healthy here – with his father – with us."
I look into his eyes, seeing nothing but reassurance there. "Besides, she knows we would feed her to the sharks if she double-crosses us," he smiles. "Now, come on. Come back to bed."
With a heavy sigh, I get up and allow Greg to lead me back across the hall to our bedroom. He turns as he closes the door of the nursery, pausing just a little to look over the empty space. He's worried too.
He removes my robe. I feel his eyes sweep over me as he pushes me back on the bed. Removing his own bathrobe, he then climbs in on the other side, pulling me into his arms. I feel their silky strength surround me as I lean back against him, finding comfort in his strength.
"I love you," he whispers.
"I love you, too," I answer. We drift off to sleep, secure in our love. Determined to end this one way, or the other.