Harvard Comes To Montana

"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Twenty-Seven

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

I am sincerely sorry for these silent two weeks away. I had Chapter Twenty-Seven drafted, but had to spend an increasing amount of time with voices outside of my head and less time with Jozef, Mark, Farm Team W, and the Critters.

A second apology, but this makes sense when I think about it. The longer I work (or neglect and then finally work) a chapter, the longer the chapter ends up. That happened kinda recently, and it happened now. The challenge is trying to edit this into smaller chapters, but the more I try to do that, the delay is even longer. Not fair to you, my friends. So, this chapter will remain its length, but I'll break it up into five parts. That way you can read, leave, come back and read some more; or you can read the whole thing in one sitting and then look in the mirror and find out your hair has grown, and damn, you look really tired.....

This chapter addresses Jozef and Marc growing up individually a little more, and growing together as a couple a little more, too. It's part of why the chapter is longer. The Guys have more to react to now in their lives, and there's more detail in this chapter than you're maybe used to. Honestly, my attitude about that is: my guys are thinking and experiencing new things, and I'm telling you about them. I hope you'll read and like it.

Thank you for your patience, and for your supportive emails and messages. I want to address something that came up in some of the recent emails: I didn't stop writing because of `The Cranky Crayon Review'. I'm made of stronger stuff than that. I really am a Polish-Montanan (kinda still) farm boy. The day a review makes me sad is the day I'll eat an entire pizza and drink two liters of root beer to drown my sorrows, damnit. Not that I need an excuse to eat an entire pizza or drink two liters of root beer.....I've never needed an excuse for that.....

Anyway. Ain't a daggonned thing I haven't appreciated in one way or another from each of you. Without further a-doo-doo, Chapter Twenty-Seven in Five Parts of "Harvard Comes To Montana".

Griz

*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***

From the end of Chapter Twenty-Six, just to remind you where J n' M left us:

***Marc smiled just a little, tilting his head to the side but also down just right, which cause a luxurious length of his long, floppy hair to fall forward across his face. Veronica Lake, reincarnated and fuckin'-hotly-improved-on-this-time-around, just for me and my oh-so-carnal desires and needs.

I stepped forward, slowly and deliberately, removing my own clothes on the way. It didn't take long for almost everything of mine to be on the bed with almost everything of Marc's. I could feel my turgid and granite-stiff cock, begging me for release from my own more modest briefs.

`Not yet. Calm down. You and my ass are in the same union, but I own the factory, and I'LL say when the both of you can get to work.'

Oh, fuck. Who was I kidding? Those two were in charge. I was merely the vehicle that got them across the hotel room floor.

Marc raised an arm to brush his hair back up on his scalp and off of his face. Of COURSE every fiber of that arm's bicep had to make themselves known from under that beautiful darker skin, catching the Sun for further enhancement. Marc smiled genuinely and held his other hand out for me to join him.

"Hey, Babe. Come here. The Sun is warm in this exact spot. Feel good in my arms. I'll feel good in yours, I think."

"I think'? He thought'? Sun or Moon, hotel room or highway, I was born to wind up in Marc's arms, and seventeen years and a few months later, that's exactly where I was.***

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Part 1

Marc's smile alone could have just picked me up and tractor-beamed me right into his arms. Resistance was futile, but who in their right (or immature teenaged) mind would resist Marc? Not me.

The Sun was, indeed, warm. Marc was, indeed, hot. Those briefs and all they tried in vain to contain were just slightly below my own. Not much. We pressed against each other in a comfortable embrace, resting our heads on each other's shoulders.

"Babe....."

"Boyfriend....."

"I love you, but I still like you, too."

"Me, too, you, Marc."

"I haven't needed to wonder at your honesty with me, but candor' and honesty' are as different as love' and like'. They work together really well toward solid communication and understanding. Sounded like I'm in a classroom.....you need to be taught nothing from me, Babe."

"I'll say only that we're both young and have lots to learn. That'll include, of course, things about and from each other. You make an interesting point, Professor Babe. I hadn't really thought of the differences between those particular words, but I think I've always understood the importance of each of them."

"Where I'm going with this: we've been really active sexually since getting here. Being inside you is, honestly and candidly, the most thrilling thing I've ever done with another person. Is it too much, though? For you, I mean, physically?"

"God, no."

"Hmmm.....again, a man of few words. I've noticed a trend: the less you say, the more you want to express yourself by other, shall we say, non-verbal means."

"You're observant."

"I seem to recall earlier, you mentioned a desire to remove my underwear in a unique manner. Still the case?"

"Yup."

"And yet, they remain in place. Get busy, Farm Boy."

Kiss Lick Kiss More Lickage Another Kiss Nibble Pull All The Way Down And Off

"Ahhh.....that was masterful."

"While I'm down here....."

".....and knowing your teeth are no threat.....OHHHH!!!!AHHH!!HOLYFUCKALLATONCEHOWDOYOUDOTHAT?!?"

I wanted to smile when he said (SHOUTED) that, but more so, I wanted Marc to remain smiling. I could almost ensure it, as long as I kept my lips over my teeth and my priorities over my whims.

Marc was---is----no whim. A whim' is what you experience because you can. A Marc' is what you get from being particularly good in your former life, for finishing all your peas and making your bed in this life, and for the advance payment on how saintly and perfect the rest of your life will be----because you owe all that happiness to.....well, that's the big question, isn't it? I'd say we should have had break-out groups and discuss Philosophy amongst ourselves, but I had a bigger issue to deal with. A BFO.

BFO = Blinding Flash Of The Obvious. Literally and figuratively, there was one staring at me in the face. Partly, anyway. The other part was staring at me in the tonsils. Holy crap, Jozef. Go ahead and make this all about you, whydoncha.

I slowly----because you don't rush a return trip from a Disney resort---released Marc's softening cock from my mouth. I missed it already, the way you miss your favorite grandparent when they leave after visiting. All you can think about is when it'll come again, and what exciting gifts might be brought with it next time.

Repeating my (I hoped) affectionate kisses and nibbles as I worked my way back up, I took an alternate route. The one that includes a deep, dark forest that the Sun seemed to have forgotten. While I like, to this day, remembering the dynamic poetry of Robert Frost, Dylan Thomas and The Go-Gos, it was one particular line that was appropriate to the moment, and yeah, two roads diverged in that wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by. Marc continued to make all the difference.

My efforts were sincere, my speed glacial, and my goal reached and reset with every millimeter of epidermis that this epicurean encountered and enjoyed.

(You see there the result of buying an `e' from Vanna. Get your money's worth, I always say. Well, I say that when my tongue is in my mouth and not attempting to get in Marc's ass.)

My boyfriend groaned with what I hoped was pleasure. One of his hands, and I didn't concern myself with which, held my head in place. I'd come to like it when he did that. A confirmation that he was getting everything I was trying to give him: my attention, my affection, and even my own pleasure.

It was there, right in that very spot, where one of those late Summer days, Paco would find himself. I didn't have a specific date marked yet on a calendar, like we had for the Custom Combine team. I was just as intent, though, on an equally, though different, harvest. Probably should negotiate that with Marc first.....I aspired to be, if nothing else, a country gentleman; if for no one else but my man.

As I moved my way back up, Marc released his hold on my head, but both his hands found mine and pulled them around so they embraced him. Pressed right up against his back, I rested my chin on Marc's shoulder and kissed his ear. It tickled, and Marc giggled.

"Babe, I think I will be grateful to my last days that you are not shy around any of my orifices."

"Orifices'.....hmmm.....I wonder what it would've sounded like for Cindy Brady and her lisp to say orifices'."

"Ugh. I can almost hear her asking Alice in the kitchen while doing her homework: `My teacher wants to know how many orrififthifces I can find in my home. What's an.....one of those, Alice?'"

"And Alice would answer, All in good time, Kid. Find someone who can say it just like that while their tongue is right up against one of those', and your head will cave in. When you're older, of course'."

"Jozef, you have a perfectly imperfect mind, I'm pleased to report!"

"You're not reporting anything to me I don't already know; and that's after working seventeen years for such an accolade. Or at least an acknowledgement."

"Let's acknowledge the time and think about what we're gonna do for the rest of this day, Babe."

"Still early. Hmmm.....we could take a day trip down to Yellowstone Park. I've never been there. Have you?"

"No. Jozef, I've never been to any national park."

"Really? Dang! What did you do during your childhood that didn't involve reading or writing a book?"

"That's a very short list, and for the most part, you nailed my achievements."

"No....."

"Yeah."

Marc released the hold he had on my arms encircling his chest and turned to me. Now his were on my hips. Marc leaned in to kiss me. It was nice. Just a sincere, brief, smack. I liked those best with Marc. Just a non-verbal, affectionate communication. The expression on Marc's face seemed a little.....sad. He acknowledged that I saw that.

"Jozef, there are many aspects of my life, particularly its history, that I want to share with you. Timing has not been on my side for a few conversations I feel are important to have with you. At present, my mind is not only with you here, it's on the interview tomorrow."

"I get that. Are you worried about anything?"

"History teaches us that worrying doesn't solve all problems, but in some cases, a little worrying in advance might've spared a lot of heartache later."

"That.....is a little scary and not really reassuring. Sorry, Marc.....by now my insecurities aren't really strangers to this relationship. I think you'd let me know if I'm doing something that worries you. I don't want to bring you any heartache later."

"You don't, nor will you, Babe. You're fine. You and I are fine. Nothing about you worries me. Nothing about the job possibility worries me, either. It's just a job. You're not just a man.

"Awww.....that's nice, Marc."

We turned to face each other and enjoy another embracing kiss. The Sun was higher over us now, and what still shone through the window bathed our feet in warmth. I wiggled my toes on top of Marc's. We giggled and offered each other one last smack of the lips.

"Is it far to the park?"

"I'm guessin' about three hours."

"Crowded in August?"

"Oh.....yeah, actually, now that I think about it. Unbearably crowded, if you are not a fan of crowds."

"Candor is my enemy----"

"Not with me. What're you thinking?"

"I'd like to go, but we're close to Noon, and if there's anything I like less than limited space, it's limited time. I'd prefer going when there's no rush to enjoy any of it."

"Fair enough. I don't disagree with you. Also, closer to end-of-season would find only ourselves and a handful of other people, and we could get a room in the old lodge there."

"Can we see `Old Faithful' erupt from the room?"

"You can see 'Young Faithful' erupt right in this room."

"Nice! Once every sixty minutes, just like that one?"

"If it's only once every sixty minutes, then there's a problem with the plumbing. I guess we'll just find out about OLD Faithful in another four or five weeks."

"I will cross off the calendar daily. So what does the more local area offer us in the meantime?"

"The art museum here is nice. I read in the newspaper there's a Frederic Remington oils exhibition there through the end of the month."

"That gets my vote and my attention, Babe."

"You get mine. Hungry?"

"Maybe for some Farm Boy lovin', but otherwise, I'm still full from that plate-covering breakfast."

"Then let's go check out the art museum, maybe get a late-lunch or early-dinner, come back here and you can have alllll of this farm boy you want."

Marc smiled and giggled, then wiggled his toes beneath mine. There was no more Sun on our feet, no more talk of worries, no more consideration of enduring traffic and crowds. We got dressed and Marc was lacing up his Adidas when his phone buzzed, reminding him that Emil Boldonovic had called. Marc reached for his phone and read the text summary of the voice mail.

"Hi, Marc; Emil here. Please call me when you have a moment. I'd like to discuss the interview tomorrow. There has been a.....development. Thank you."

Marc looked at me after he read the message, his eye frowning slightly.

"I'll give them this much: the school board in Lewistown will not be known for being beige, benign or boring."

"Marc, The art museum is open until 7PM. Would you like to talk with Emil before he thinks you're avoiding him?"

"Heh. Yeah, I will. I don't get the impression Emil Boldonovic is avoided easily."

"I could never avoid him when he was visiting my high school. He was always in the hallway between classes, right within eyeshot of the boys' restroom. I wanted to get in and out of there for my usual masturbatorial emergency without him suspecting me of anything not entirely wholesome. I'm sure he'd heard stories about what any red-blooded teenaged high schooler will do whenever he gets the chance."

"If I remember correctly at my school, there were three minutes between class periods. I also remember being able to attend to my own likewise `emergencies' while in transit, and never being late for class. Those were the days.....ten times between waking up at 6:00AM and sleeping at 9:00PM.....not that five times with you now in the same timeframe is a big compromise....."

"I sure the heck HOPE I'm no compromise!"

"But it IS big."

"No one had to see me in the restroom to know THAT."

"Will you and your big.....Humility be staying with me while I contact your former guardian of public school virtue?"

"No, I'm going downstairs to the lobby and check in with my family unit. Will you please text me when you're finished with your conversation?"

"I will. Please say hi to the family unit for me. I hope all is well, although even imagining the possibility of such a status without you there seems inconceivable."

"That's why I'm calling. I need to remind them of my expectations, but also to offer reassurance that I believe in them. Or at least in their sincere intentions. I also want them to know that I'd better not return to even the most remote and unlikely evidence of slacking off for three days. It will not be tolerated, nor rewarded with regaling tales of the trip to the big city."

"You make your unceasing and unfailing leadership communicated most clearly. Maybe you should be interviewing for the superintendent job."

"Nah. I was the student body president, and that was enough. It was also very recent, and I can't really forgive the school board for disregarding my only demand while in office: more pizza selection in the cafeteria. Oh----and an increase in time between classes. Sometimes there were waiting lines in the boys' restroom with dozens of guys wanting some `Just Me And My Dick Time' in the toilet stalls. All I asked for was another two minutes. That'd have accommodated another ten guys, easily. I was only thinking about helping guys concentrate in class. Really."

"There's something to be said for `economy of scale', and Time is a measurable commodity. I wonder why the school board ever thought to turn you down....."

"Well, the excuse they gave was not enough money in the budget to hire another janitor, just to clean the walls in the boys' restrooms."

"So inconsiderate."

"I know! I even negotiated holding bake sales to fund the additional staff salary!"

"I suppose they just couldn't get past all you boys holding your staffs in there, even if they weren't each other's."

"Someday we'll get into the 21st Century in School District Number One. Maybe on your tenure in the job."

"Oh, HECK, no. My job would be getting more teachers in classrooms for students to study space rocks----not more janitors in bathrooms so students can get their rocks off."

"Um.....Boyfriend.....this conversation is not conducive to either of us accomplishing much in our respective phone calls with people who only want to help us move ahead with our careers.....see how the opposite effect is affecting me affectionately?"

I motioned with my thumb toward the five magic, concealed buttons on my pair of 501s.

"I can see. From all the way over here."

Marc smiled and walked toward me. When he stopped, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I was expecting a very nice, G-rated peck on the cheek before we dialed and smiled. Instead, one of Marc's meaty manos assertively caressed my rigid dick from base to head.

"Babe, let's pick up where we're leaving off. I don't know what the phone call with Emil will result in, but I think you possess the antidote to anything unpleasant, right here. Don't go far."

"I had to drive ten miles from my three thousand acre agrarian comfort zone to find you. That was far enough."

"God, I love you."

"God loves you, too. We have that in common."

"Among many other wonderful and virtuous attributes, I've no doubt. Surely patience is one of them. To the phones, and tarry not."

"Don't preach to me about virtue and tarrying; remember, you're the one who is holding on like Jack to that piece of a wall while the ship sank."

"Hmmm.....we should honor the Titanic going down by me doing the same thing later."

"OH, yeah! Not at the art museum, though.....I'm still welcome in this town."

"You'll be even more welcome if patrons see a REAL piece of art, attempting vainly to stay tucked away in those Levis."

"Just a thought here, but how about both of us enjoy our shows, but alone together?"

"That's more than just a thought; that's an imperative."

"Yeah, agreed. See you soon, Boyfriend."

"Okay, Babe. Soon."

Marc and I kissed once more, then again, then heck, why not? About five more times. You know that feeling you get when something is so good, so right, intensely satisfying and finally, it's not a new season of Stranger Things' on Netflix? Yeah, you know. We smiled at each other and he called Emil. I headed out the door for the elevators. I knew there was a business office' downstairs for customers who need use of computers, printers, more desk space.

The hotel seemed quiet for a Tuesday, or maybe just that time of day. I exited the elevators and walked past the front desk. Mr Abrams was finishing up a phone call, so I stopped to say hi. Our gig was up; there's no point in trying to sneak past someone who knows everything that was going on that morning in 2020, and yet still allowed us to remain on the property.

"Ah. Mr Wojtowicz."

"Hi, Mr Abrams. How's your day going?"

"It's.....quiet, thank you for asking."

"We met the couple who are on our floor. That's a nice story they have. I'd like to think all couples will be so in love after so many years together."

"That depends, I suppose, more on them and less on Time. We're happy to have them with us for their 70th anniversary."

"SEVENTY YEARS?! My gosh! I can't really fathom that length of time with another person."

"Oh, I would wager you can.....if you give it some effort.....over the course of however many years."

I blushed. He'd just sent a little compliment and encouragement my way. And to Marc's. I was on the ground floor of that hotel, but Mr Abrams had made me feel like I was up on a cloud at that moment. Could I imagine many years with Marc? I hadn't really thought of it too much, other than to say to myself, `it would be nice'.

The effort to achieve seventy or even seven years would require more from me than I knew I had at that age. The aisles in the store where the Hallmark cards are kept were full of possibilities, with celebrations of ten, twenty, even fifty years with another person. I doubt they'd sell those cards unless there was a reason for at least a few people to buy them.

So yeah, it was possible. Seventy years, though? I'd be just about ninety. Marc would be.....oh, dang. Well, the options were limited, yeah. If we were together when I'm 87, what would we be like? Maybe more practically, I should aim.....a little closer to Present. Would he still need me, would he still feed me, when I'm 64? I had 47 years with absolutely nothing better to do than grow the food that would feed us and a few other people while I found out.

I smiled at Mr Abrams and said if Marc and I were still standing in seventy years, and if the Sheraton was, too, we'd be back for Suite 2021. That same suite every hotel has, just for every honeymoon and anniversary possible.

"Mr Wojtowicz.....I would like very much if you and Mr Taylor would be my personal guests in our restaurant this evening."

"Oh, my gosh; that's really generous of you! I will admit I wasn't sure how anything would go here, well, after this morning.....you know....."

"Oh, I know; but that's not it. Mr Taylor has become something of a celebrity while behaving bravely and nobly. It's not that he's a celebrity, but....."

"I know.....but he stopped an attack, and everyone saw it."

"Well, partially. It's not only that he stopped the attack on the young woman in the video; it's that he showed you, whether either he or you realized it, that he would stop at nothing to keep YOU safe, Mr Wojtowicz. Mr and Mrs Holland did not reach seventy years together without facing some threats and protecting each other so they could be in Suite 2021. Who knows what will be going on seventy years in your and Mr Taylor's future, let alone this hotel's; so let's celebrate both of you tonight. Please. If you've not made other plans."

"I would cancel other plans, Mr Abrams."

I had tears brimming in my eyes. I had not once considered what I had just been told, that Marc would wade into hell to protect me, but yeah, he would. As would I for him. Before I could respond, the phone rang. Mr Abrams picked it up and smiled at me, greeting the person calling. As he did, he slid over to me a little envelope. Inside was a fully comped meal, anything we wanted, up to and including cocktails and wine. In the restaurant or en-suite.

I smiled in response and nodded my head, ducking away to find the business office. It was empty. When the hotel was built, that space was a hat- and coat-check desk. Ah, the days gone by. Now, everyone wears a hat all the time, and no one wears a coat. So, getting better use of that space in the modern age, I closed the door behind me and sat at a space-age looking gaming chair. The entire (small) room was mine.

I called Aleksy's phone. I could hear a motor, and his voice was raised. He turned the function to a FaceTime call so I could see what he was up to. Baling alfalfa. Might as well; it won't harvest itself. He already had 250 acres completed. I was only slightly jealous about not being there; I loved cutting that green grass, and even chewing on the leaves.

"You gonna make me do ALL the work on this farm while you and your Schmoopie play in the big city?"

"No, not ALL the work, Big Brother; just the easy stuff. I'll handle the man's work when we get back tomorrow."

"Ummmm.....no rush.....in fact, why don't you get me an address and I'll forward your mail."

"Easy. Post Office Box 69."

"STOP! GROSS! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT.....THAT!"

"Want me to text you pictures, instead?"

"MOMHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"Aleksy, where are you?"

"The East field. Just wrapping up. Then to the barn and check on the critters in here. All's well. I'm going to walk Stan around awhile every day until he's used to me. I want to saddle him by Sunday."

"Ah, nice.....that's a plan I will gladly sign onto. Dad rode him all the time. Stan needs a human. He and Bolt are best buds. It'll be good to have both of `em out riding. How's Lola Cola and Family?"

"They're all fine. I can tell they miss you, though. Particularly OC."

"Little Fucker doesn't miss me; he misses duck hearts. They're in a bag in the cooler. I've been giving one to Lola Cola at the same time. How's Eva?"

"She's the windmill that never sleeps. She and Kim are a machine in that shack. Eva is going to take on Kristi, too."

"Nice! I'm glad to hear that, for everyone's sake. I recruited another from down here. I'll tell you and Eva about her when Marc and I get back tomorrow."

"Jozef.....it's Marc's interview, but I'm tellin' ya, it's getting a lot of talk in town. Word's out all those muscles have a brain that commands `em. I'm kinda concerned that public interview is going to wind up being some kind of sideshow attraction."

"Dang. I don't know how to feel about that....."

"You might want to make thinking about how you're feeling a priority, Little Brother. Right now, there's not a connection people are drawing between Marc and you, and Marc and us, being just friends."

"Fekkin' fek. Why can't a smart guy move to a little town and bring his educational career with him, get a job making schools better, and live his life?"

"I don't know. Mom is pissed off about one of the three board members she knows. He's being a pussy, apparently, and is getting steamrolled by the two newest board members. The women Mom knows are pissed off, too. Once the new members seduced the weak guy to join them, they resolved three to two that the interview should be public, or there'd be no interview for a new superintendent, and the school board themselves would manage the job."

"Is that even legal?"

"Yes. The State of Montana Department of Education has backed away entirely from oversight of how school boards operate. It's opening doors to insidious and, frankly, dangerous moves that are eerily similar to the stuff going on in other states right now. Jozef, Emil Boldonovic must have ulcers all up and down his intestines.

All of us on Farm W feel great about Marc being in the family. What he's setting himself up for at his age, my age, is a daily battle with the school board. I don't doubt he has the capacity to do the job; but at what cost to him emotionally, and to your relationship?"

"Big Brother, he's on the phone with Mr B now. He's up in our room and I'm downstairs in the hotel business office, talking to you. Mr B sent Marc a text and asked him to call. Why all the drama, dangit? Who else are they gonna find with Marc's qualifications and enthusiasm? Did you know he already drafted a proposal of his management plan for the first ninety days, that he wants to share with the school board in the interview? Who else is gonna do that? Fuck. FUCK!"

"I riled you up, and I regret that, Jozef. Look, Marc is nobody's puppet; certainly not for a school board with a growing number of reactionary nut cases on it. What Marc Taylor has already demonstrated to the community is that he's afraid of no one, and he will not sit by and watch people be bullied. Honestly, I don't know who else would ever stand up to bullies the way Marc did for Eva. We will definitely be naming a kid after him....."

"YOU'LL DO WHAT, NOW??!"

"Oh, shit. Me and my mouth..... WHAT I MEAN IS....."

"YOU AND EVA ARE GONNA HAVE KIDS?! WHEN!??"

"NOT TODAY. Calm yerself, Youngin'. But yes, when comes the right time, there'll be Eva and me getting back to where we always should've been. Read into that allll you want. But back to Marc....."

"Back to Marc. I am in uncharted seas here, Aleksy. There is nothing I can do to help him with this, outside of cheering him on and driving him to Billings to buy a suit-----which is incredible, by the way. I'm not a control freak, but damn; he gave up a career teaching at Harvard, of all places, to move to Lewistown and maybe-kinda-sorta be with me. And us. I feel like I need to pull Excalibur out of some rock and race into School Board Hell tomorrow."

"Okay, so, maybe you keep that between us.....no one needs to hear rumors about a love-crazed cowpoke ridin' roughshod over school board meetings with a weapon. Particularly one they wouldn't understand."

"Heh. Oh. Yeah, well, there's that. I asked Marc a couple of times what he was going to do if he was not hired. Would he go back to Harvard? He says I can't ask him again until after the interview. That guy swaggers confidence. If he can deal with a public interview, I'm sure he can have a viable Plan B. To be honest, though.....I'm a little afraid if he doesn't get the job, he'll leave. If not back at Harvard, some university will want him. He has no family here anymore."

"And exactly what are YOU, are WE, if not family? I could reach through these damned phones and spank you right now."

"Oh. Yeah. Dumb.....of course we are. But Marc didn't work his entire life to come to us; he wanted to walk through History and document it. Three books and counting."

"Marc came to us, by way of you finding him on a highway. You can't bring home a puppy you found, give him lots of love and attention, and then worry that he's gonna reject it all and run away again. Marc's not going anywhere, Jozef. Not unless he takes you with him, and that's just dumb, because you're not ever leaving this place."

"Well, I'm sure as heck not going to leave NOW! You and Eva are gonna have kids!"

"You realize, don't you, that Eva has both a uterus AND a brain? She conceived and gave birth to a very successful business. She----we---will get to the more human, domestic, cute, chubby version of that when the time is right. We found a counselor who'll work with us both. She has her issues, I have my issues, and we have our issues.....namely a little brother who has a one-track mind, and it's all about being an uncle."

"Not earlier, it wasn't; my mind was on trying to make YOU an uncle."

"What----oh! YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKER!"

"Got that right....."

"NOT WHAT I MEANT!"

"Specificity is one of the highest virtues, Aleksy. Anyway. I'm happy with your plans and direction. I'm happy for Eva!"

"And I'LL be happy with an overflow crowd tomorrow getting to know Marc for his academic qualifications and principles. Mom will be there. You will, too, I'm sure. I'm staying here, though. I don't want this farm left vulnerably empty. Lola Cola and OC would freak out, too. Can't have that!"

"No, you're right. I'm not gonna sleep well tonight....."

"Take your cue from Marc, Jozef. If he's fine, you owe it to him and yourself to be fine, too. Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, everyone is gonna know Marc Taylor, and there'll be no doubt in anyone's mind that he's there honorably."

"You're right, and thanks for that. When did I become such a worrier?"

"The moment you found out Dad died. Someone needs to get inside that head of yours and kick you out of it. There is neither time nor reason for a successful farmer to be insecure. Everything you know and everything you will learn will only compound this land's success. You have nothing to worry about. Team W, Team Sanger, Eva, Kristi....."

".....Marc."

"Marc is on Team W. You know that. Now go do something in the big city. I have an entire farm to fuck up so you can come back, shake your head and set everything right again."

"There's just no talkin' to you, Big Brother."

"The display on my phone seems to indicate we've been talking for fifteen minutes, so there. Hey, before you go----call Mom later. Just check in."

"I will. Thanks for this. Say hi to Eva for me."

"Yup. Bye, Little Brother."

"Bye, Big Brother."

I smiled and hit the red button. Weird-assed battery again! Suddenly I'm down to a five percent charge, and after only fifteen minutes of talking. I know I plugged it in last night, right around the time I got plugged. When yer mind is on a theme, might as well stick with it.

Although I'd asked Marc to send me a text when he was finished, I didn't get one. Must still be talking to Mr B. I sent a text so he'd know I was off my call.

"Hi, Boyfriend. Family say hello. In biz office."

A moment later, I got a response.

"Thanks. Please come back, Babe."

When Marc says `Babe' in a sentence, the verb in there just doesn't matter. I'll do whatever. Riding the elevator back up, I was thinking of what Aleksy told me: back off from all the worrying. Yes. Made sense. I would try. My challenge was my lack of experience. I'd never had a Marc before. No Sample Marc. No Starter Marc. My brother was right and reassuring: My family loved and welcomed Marc. He had our complete confidence in him, both professionally and personally.

Back upstairs and in the room, Marc and I caught each other up on our phone calls. He was happy to hear there was still a home to return to, despite my neglectful absence from agro efficiency and order.

"So there'll still be a room for us to install all that Stickley furniture?"

"AND a place for you to hang your suit, Boyfriend. Both of `em. How many are you buying?"

"Just the two, and the shirts you seemed to think I need in quantity."

"If I'd been you and you'd been me, seeing me as I saw you, you'd have said I should have em, just so I could see you in em once you bought `em."

"Ummm....."

"Yeah, well, it made sense up here. Just go with me on it."

"To the ends of the world, Babe. If you liked how the shirts looked on me, I'm sure they're perfect."

"Well......not entirely. They'll look perfect on the floor beside the bed."

"That sounds like a pick-up line in the making....."

"I've never had to use a pick-up line, actually; but I have one written. Of course, now I'll never have reason to use it, Mr Fergus County-to-South-America Front-Runner."

"Well, don't tease me! What's your pick-up line?"

"HAHAHA!!! I can never tell this with a straight face, but I'll try....."

"Shoot."

"Oh, no! This is terrible!'" Then you ask, "What's terrible?'"

"`What's terrible?'"

"My dick just died! Can I bury it in your ass?!"

"Oh, that's.....'terrible', all right! You've never used that line?"

"I would have to hide in shame if I ever employed such desperate measures, Boyfriend."

"Indeed. I admit, I liked the line you used on me, though."

"What line?"

"Want some water and a Twink?"

"I SAID `A TWINKIE', AND YOU KNOW IT!"

"Meh. Potato-Po-TAH-to. Ya both were very comfortable in the back seat of an old truck, and ya both wound up with a creamy fillin', now didn't ya?"

"Nasty Marc!"

"What??! I just beat you to a smart-assed answer, and you're jealous."

"Save your passive-aggressive projection for another day. Tell me about YOUR phone call."

"I liked yours better....."

"Uh-oh."

"Well, Emil didn't have any information about the interview itself as regards me, but he wanted me to know I have competition for the position."

"Seriously? Someone else applied?"

"More like someone else WAS applied. Two of the board members apparently weren't willing to rely on Emil Boldonovic's recruiting skills."

"My head is kinda swimmin' here, Marc.....how could anyone think they wanted to interview more people for that job in Lewistown, Montana? Did they find someone who has all your qualifications, degrees, book titles and actually more? Did the director of NASA apply? Was Mother Theresa resurrected and no one told me?"

"That part, I don't know. I don't think Emil can say too much more; just that I should know I won't be the only one up for grabs on The Price Is Right'. Other contestants are coming on down', too. He didn't sound happy."

"I'm sure he's pissed off. Mr B doesn't have some ego trip about placing you there; that's just not his personality."

"I don't think he sounded pissed off, Babe. Just.....weary. Last thing he said before goodbye' was, This isn't how I wanted my last few days in office to go. I wanted to leave a good legacy and a great successor'."

"I bet Mom knows something. I'll call her."

"Jozef, please don't. Marie is limited in her involvement in any of this since she's not a Townie. I don't want her to have to answer for her information if I were to learn about it and allow it to affect me in any way."

"God, I love you."

"God loves you, too."

"There's an echo in here....."

"An echo or a sore lacking of original material. I love you, too. I'm going to rescind a limitation I placed on you yesterday....."

"Hmmm.....'yesterday'.....I gotta think.....hmmm.....was it about not asking you about your `Plan B' until after the interview? That's the only logical thing you had as a limit of any kind, at least that I remember."

"That's it. You don't have to wait."

"I can ask you?!"

"You can, Babe."

"Do you have a `Plan B' if you don't get the job tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Okay....."

"That's all. I have a Plan B. I have no more on that for now, but: I'll tell you what my plan isn't. It's not leaving town, Fergus County, Montana, Farm W, Team W, and certainly not you."

"Oh, my gosh.....you're not leaving me?"

"I have no reason to. I wasn't staying for the job; that was just a fringe benefit of meeting and staying for you."

"`Just a fringe benefit', he says. Marc, I'm not doubting you that you have something else in mind. I can't imagine what it would be. Whatever it is, though----I'm behind you entirely."

"I HOPE you'll be behind me entirely.....in every connotation of the phrase. SOMEDAY. Not today! I need to work my way up to working my way down on that.....that.....'Paco'. I know that's not what you meant, but I figured since you opened a door, I might as well walk through it."

"Marc, I want that like you can't believe. I want more than only my tongue to love what you have going on back and down there. It's not just about taking your virginity, but....."

"You already took it."

"I did?! When?!"

"Think about that for a moment....."

"Wait.....nooo.....I'm drawin' a blank there, Marc."

"Are you? Do you remember in a conversation that I told you I had not had anything more than oral sex before you?"

"Yeah....."

"That was the truth."

"Marc, I know I can be dense sometimes.....but maybe no more so than right now!"

"I meant both pitching' and catching'."

"OH! Oh, dumb Polish Pollack! Of course! Damn, that made me a real narrow-minded asshole, didn't it? Geez, Marc; I'm sorry. I've been going on and on about how you popped my cherry, and yeah, you did; but you were there, too. I get it now."

"AND you'll `get it' again. Tonight. Be ready. Remember you wanting to know before Anna joined us if I was giving you all I had? Well, I might have more in reserve."

"Now YOU'RE teasin' ME! Bring it, whatever you have in reserve! But really.....Marc, you did give me your virginity. You're right. I was focused entirely on that happening only `one way'. I didn't mean to leave you out of the importance of the moment."

"You didn't leave me out. What you gave me was a big deal for you. It was for me, too. It'll be another when I give you the other half. I'm telling you a secret right now, though....."

"A secret? I like secrets."

"I've had opportunities over the years. I didn't take advantage of them. I grew up in an environment where people used sex as a weapon. I didn't want that to be my future, so I avoided anything more than just what I saw as shallow, inconsequential mutual blowjobs and handjobs. Even those were very few and very far between. I've purposefully saved my dick and my ass to give to one man, preferably only one man, ever. I want you to be that man, Jozef. My very not-dumb, very Polish man."

"And I REALLY like THAT secret!"

"You'd better. Well, phone calls made and shared. Mr Remington and his paints and brushes?"

"Yes, please! Did you know all the linen canvases he painted on were woven by his own sisters? They're the reason he began painting. They were making muslin for other artists. He used to monkey around with paints on their scraps or rejected canvas."

"Is that covered in the museum?"

"Sure is!"

"Well, then; let's go there so you can give your mouth a rest. I'm gonna keep it busy later."

"Is it `later' yet?"

"Babe, with a hot young man like you, later' should always be right now'."

"Despite my disdain, if not outright abhorrence, for Billings, Montana----time flies down here. Sure did for our floormates in Suite 2021. I'll tell you what Mr Abrams told me when I was on my way to call Aleksy. Mr and Mrs Holland. Seventy years together!"

"Damn! Good for them! I don't know if that's anything I'd ever see personally....."

"But I'm sure you could see working toward it. I know I could."

"You want to?"

"I do."

"Say that again."

"Nope. I really think I want to say that, someday. I truly believe that. And to you, I think. I believe. But not now. I think. And believe."

"Well, of course not now! We need to go find out what else Mr Remington's family did for him."

I pulled Marc to me, so his back was against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his neck, whispering quietly in his ear.

"His family loved him."

Part 2

The afternoon was pleasant; we got the Sun on us again during our short hike to the art museum. Traffic was not any big deal at this end of town anymore. No box stores, no malls with Putt-Putt golf, no Applebee's or Olive Gardens. On the way, I brought Marc up to speed on Mr Abrams' very kind, very generous offer for dinner.

"Oh, wow.....I am humbled. Never could've guessed an evening at the fair would become news. To be honest, I'd like to hope it had more to do with Junior and less to do with me. Sounds like he was already infamous for thousands of people. By Saturday night, I think I could've counted on my hands and feet the number of people in Montana who knew me."

"A combination of those two, and also the circumstance itself. I suppose what made Saturday evening such a big deal was the number of people who captured you and Junior with their phones, sending all of it into the ether for millions to watch. If not millions, then perhaps ten thousand or so."

"I hope not millions.....I wasn't there to be caught on anyone's camera. The sooner this goes away, the happier I'll be."

"Yeah, but for all of Central Montana, the sooner Junior goes away, the happier we'll ALL be. I hope the impetus for the gift of dinner won't dissuade you from accepting."

"Didn't you already accept?"

"I did.....because to not accept would've been rude. We can accept the dinner only and say `thank you' to Mr Abrams, or we can also accept the intention behind the gift. There's a world of difference between being polite and expressing sincere gratitude. Dad's mom made sure I knew that whenever anyone gave me gifts at holidays or my birthday."

"Then I'm glad you were polite. When we see him tomorrow, we can express gratitude to Mr Abrams for the gesture."

"You know that's what he was doing, right? Expressing gratitude to you on behalf of a lot of people."

"Babe, let's leave all the `turning red' to the traffic lights.....I'm gonna start looking sunburned here in a minute....."

I giggled at him, and while holding hands in Yellowstone County, particularly in that day and age, might not have been that big of a deal, I still agreed with my boy: lots of anti-21st Century folks there. The ones with fists, I wasn't worried about; the ones with stronger firepower, and in the form of firepower, were the guys who didn't put a priority on thinking first and then shooting. They had it quite backwards, and History was full of their examples.

The afternoon was nice. Just right. The museum had a fine display of Frederic Remington's paintings, from his earliest years to his very last effort. Progress to refined, natural talent led to digression and collapse. The exhibit displayed not only pigments on linen, but also the effects of Time on Mr Remington.

The docent there explained everything in even greater detail that we read. I suspected Alice Kramer was not just a novice historian and devotee of Frederic Remington. She spoke of him as if he were standing right beside us, and it was nearly impossible to not see what he was seeing when he painted.

After we left---two hours later---Marc explained that Ms Kramer's painting-by-painting tour was exactly the kind of living history that inspired him to make the subject his life's work. Heh.....Marc's `life's work'. He wasn't even thirty years old. I couldn't begin to imagine what the following sixty years would have him learning, or writing, or teaching. And knowing Marc-----creating.

He was not passive in experiencing anything, last Saturday was a prime example. He didn't observe; he participated. And now people, complete strangers, took notice of him and commented on him the way Alice Kramer spoke about Frederic Remington.

Once back at the hotel, we'd clean up the best we could. Neither of us brought better public clothes with us. We were there for more utilitarian purposes than fine dining. Even Jake's across the street boasted `fine dining by fine people for fine people in relaxed surroundings and comfortable clothes'. I hoped the restaurant in the Sheraton would be close to that appeal.

We had nothing to worry about. We stopped to talk with the restaurant host on our way in. They were just preparing to open for business. When we told her that we were guests, she smiled and said Mr Abrams had already told her the menu was just a suggestion; that we were welcome to enjoy whatever we wanted.

She also said there was not a dress code, so we should be happy with how we were; she certainly was. The way she looked us both up and down, despite her attempts at subtlety, confirmed her comments. Lu Barney, you might have a little competition 150 miles away from home, but there'll never be anyone truly like you.

`Risen because of the yeast?', indeed, Lu.

We decided we would return at 8PM for dinner. Until then.....well, I needed to love up on my man, so that's what we went back to the room to do. I wanted more of what I'd enjoyed that morning; ass-bruising, teeth-dislocating, aggressive sex with Marc. But what I needed more so was tender, assertive, emotional love-making with my man.

I wanted to feel him on and in me, and I wanted to give him my best love possible. I'd felt that way before since knowing Marc. He compelled me to find my Ten and then give him an Eleven. Yeah, I know-----I've seen that movie, too-----but the sentiment is just as appropriate here as there. I'm just less funny.

Dinner was slow. There was no rush. When the waiter asked if we wanted to start with cocktails, I asked for iced tea with lemon. Marc smiled and asked for the same. That was that. For the entire dinner: water and iced tea. Perhaps not what the waiter or Mr Abrams were expecting, but the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass anyone by having to produce my wallet to betray my attempts at getting some Rye whiskey.

It's not often you'll find a rack of lamb on a menu, particularly with Montana-raised lamb; so when I saw that, my eyes went no further. Marc had never tried lamb, and I suggested he might like it----but that there was no in-between with lamb. A person loved it or hated it. I offered to share mine so he could try it. He thought me wise (for perhaps the first time since we'd met!) and settled for a ten ounce filet mignon with Dungeness crab on top, and Bernaise on top of that.

When he ordered it, I remember thinking: `Yeah, I'll share mine----but you sure as heck had better share yours!'. I did and he did, and we did end up having a wonderful dinner. Dessert was a big slice of Banoffee Pie and two forks. Our dinner was a generous gift from Mr Abrams. There was nothing for us to sign. However, we both took note of the prices and determined a generous tip for the waiter. I said thank you to him when we left. Marc did the same, but had more.

"I did your job in college. A nicer place in Seattle called `Canlis'. I loved my job."

"You were at `Canlis'?! That place is legendary! I've been there once when I was in the city, visiting my future wife. You definitely know table service if you worked there."

"I did. Not my first job waiting tables, but definitely where I learned the trade. I maintain I graduated college with two degrees from two schools, and the more challenging of the two was at the restaurant overlooking Lake Union. This was a perfect evening for Jozef and me. Thank you."

Handshakes and waves at the front desk evening manager, and off we rode to our home in the clouds over Yellowstone County. We were full from dinner, and the time was after 10PM. We both felt the day wear itself on us. The ass-pounding and the love-making I wanted to give and get would have to wait, I thought. All I was good for at that moment was holding Marc in my arms, my chest to his, my lips on his, and peaceful dreams attending us, all through the night.

"Babe....."

"Boyfriend?"

"Thank you for a really nice day. I can honestly say: this is the best day I've had in Billings, Montana, in my entire life."

"Ummmm.....while the mayor of the city would love, I'm sure, for you to record that for him to play constantly on television, it's not really a very high bar....."

"We don't have to let him know that. You, on the other hand.....you've set the bar impossibly high for anyone else. You just keep doing that. I know it's effortless for you; that's just who you are and how you do it. You Polish Montana farm boys are wizards."

"Sigh.....it's in the water....."

Marc giggled and we drifted off. My phone woke us up at 8, but I think we were already on our way to waking. We both wanted to go pick up the furniture, the suits and my clothes, and get back on the road. Sooner was better than later. Marc's interview was seven hours away, and I was fairly certain he'd like to have a couple of hours to himself to prepare; not just rush in from the truck, answer questions and smile assuringly at the school board.

I saw a text message on my phone from Perry.

"Hi, Jozef and Marc; we would like you to come try on the suit whenever you'd like. I believe it is ready for you."

I showed Marc. We both smiled at each other and jumped up to shower. Once beneath the cascade of water, we cleaned each other up, dried each other off, and then attended to our teeth and combs. We were given notice well before what we thought we'd get, assuming Perry's schedule would still follow the 10:00AM time as quoted. Ahead of schedule meant ahead of the return trip, and we were ready for this trip to be over.

On the way, we walked past Phyllis as she took an order from a table of people. She saw us and smiled and waved.

"Babe, I know the rack suit will be fine, so I don't need to try that one again. I think I'll wear the custom suit out, though; we said Phyllis could see it, and it'll be good to see if her investment in bear claws paid off or not."

"Great idea. We could actually eat there, you know. Otherwise you'll be waiting for something on the road, or even later back home after the interview. Your call."

"Breakfast here, Jozef. I don't do anything well on an empty stomach; certainly not interviewing for a job."

"Oh.....let's back that up to you doing well on your stomach....."

"That's NOT what I said, and you know it!"

"Maybe not, but it's what I heard."

"It's what PACO heard, and you're just leading him further astray."

"So I'm a leader; sue me!"

"I have a whole list of verbs I want to do to you, once we have this day behind us, Jozef."

"You've got a little list?"

"I've got a little list!"

We laughed over our mutual appreciation for "The Mikado" and Gilbert & Sullivan in General, and walked into Jason's. Perry and Les were talking behind the sales counter, and walked from either end to greet us.

"Welcome, Gentlemen. You saw my text, I take it."

Both Marc and I smiled. I nodded toward Perry.

"We did. Earlier than I thought we'd hear from you, honestly. I hope we didn't make you feel rushed."

"Les and I aspire to be old-fashioned artisans with textiles; we work better with a deadline. Shall we see if you'll find our efforts to your liking?"

Marc agreed, and we walked off to the studio behind the curtain.

Holy fucking Good-Googa-Mooga.

Marc had on the custom suit and it was.....well, I struggle to describe what it was, but I can tell you what it WOULD be from that moment forward: a sin and a crime for any other man to wear that fabric. He was beautiful. When he looked in the mirrors that faced him, the look on Marc's face only agreed with the rest of us: it was quite possible, if not probable, he had never looked better.

We all just looked silently. Perry and Les had Marc turn several times, checking each seam, each tuck and dart, each joint. Nothing was out of place. Perry smiled, but the one of us who was beaming? Les. Perry just nodded at him, and Les glowed even more. The apprentice had the approval of the master craftsman.

Marc stepped down from the raised platform. Les instructed Marc to walk with the jacket both on and off. His body moved perfectly within the clothes, or perhaps just as right, the clothes covered Marc and his movements without confining him anywhere. It was exactly what a tailored suit was supposed to do, and it spoiled me ever thinking that something off the rack could accomplish the same objective.

The clothes I selected were right for what they were expected to do: get me a couple of steps up from Levis and rugby shirts, but not quite in a tuxedo. I knew already that Les' discerning eye selected better for me than what I'd done for myself. I knew already that if it was ever determined I'd need a suit, I'd get back to Billings (despite it being Billings) and leave again, looking like a million bucks in a Perry Original. Or maybe a Les Original, by that time.

Perry and Les were pleased we were pleased. We settled up our bills and walked out with several clothing bags each. When we got to the diner, Phyllis was walking out of the kitchen, her arms laden with plates and bound for another big table. She stopped and smiled, just shaking her head at Marc.

"Marc, you are.....everything that sculptor in Italy tried in vain to pull out of a block of marble! Perry's masterpiece, if ever there was one! You boys sit anywhere-----or are you just stopping in for my approval? Because you have it!"

I laughed and Marc blushed. Everyone was looking at him.

"He looks good, doesn't he, Phyllis? We're here to eat! Can't find out how good the stitches are if we don't stress `em out a little!"

"GOOD! Sit anywhere, Boys; I'll be right there!"

Our `usual' table was still open, so we took it and laid the suit bags over an adjacent chair. That poor chair.....it had never worked so hard as that morning. Phyllis appeared with water and menus.

"Marc, you are.....amazing. That is the finest work I've seen come out of Perry's tent shop."

We laughed, and of course Marc blushed. When you add some red to some Mediterranean olive, you get.....well, what do you get? I'll tell you what I got.

HARD.

Anyway.....um, where was I.....oh.

"Boys, the special today is a breakfast burrito with Montana-made chorizo, Montana-laid eggs and a Montana-sized mess all over that beautiful suit. Hell, I'm nervous just being near you with a couple of glasses of water! Look, I love you came in to show me, but would you please do an old woman a solid favor and get out of that? I'm gonna be as nervous as a Shriner in Rome!"

Marc laughed and nodded, saying he actually agreed. We stood and to walk back out, saying we'd return in a few minutes.

"Wait a minute here! I said `get out of that'; I didn't say you had to leave to do it! HAHAHAHA!!!!!"

Marc and I had been in an earlier version of that movie, the laughs were just as good this time around. Phyllis turned red and waved us away, laughing and seating other diners.

We weren't even at 9:00AM yet, so we wouldn't miss out on what actually tempted me----that burrito. Once across the street, Marc changed back into road clothes. We packed everything up and scanned the room once more for anything even slightly resembling a tube of lube or a buckshot-filled leather cockring. No reason to freak poor Anna out for a second day in a row.

We got back downstairs and approached Mr Abrams.

"Ah. Messieurs Fergus County. Good morning."

Marc smiled and gently hung up our suit carriers on the valet cart.

"Good morning, Mr Abrams. We're going to check out a little earlier than planned."

"Certainly. We're glad you stayed with us on your trip to Billings. I trust you had a pleasant visit, and accomplished everything you wanted to."

"We did, and more; the art museum has a Frederic Remington display that anyone and everyone should see. We enjoyed it for a few hours yesterday, and then later had the best meal ever, right in your own restaurant. Jozef and I were honored by your gesture. Very kind. Thank you."

"Sincerely intended. My wife and I have raised two wonderful boys, one of whom married the perfect young woman. Our youngest son has yet to meet the man of his dreams, but when he does, we sincerely hope they will be as happy as his older brother and his wife are, and as happy as you two are.

Any parent hopes their children will grow to be happy, and not alone. I believe you and our guests the Hollands in Suite 2021 have found something very few others find. Please: on a future trip, tell us your secret, and I'll fill this hotel with all kinds of couples who will hang on every word of your wisdom in a ballroom conference."

We could not respond, really. What to say? Everything that needed to be said obviously had; by us, in our apparently love and affection for each other. By Mr Abrams and Phyllis and Teigan, by what they recognized in us.

There's a burden, really, in being admired, supported and approved by those around us. Our every intention, our actions, need to justify the kindness of strangers. Not just for ourselves, but for other young couples, regardless of flavor or stripe.

When the village that raises you then nods with both relief and pleasure for the final result, then we pass that along, whenever and however we can. Maybe someday Marc and I would meet a newer, younger generation of two people in love, and we could smile at them, both reminiscently and wistfully, buy them dinner and extend our best wishes for success on the journey together.

"Please keep the Billings Sheraton in mind for your future visits to the city, Gentlemen. We will be happy to have you."

With the transaction completed and a virtual coupon texted for a suite upgrade including breakfast for our next stay, we shook hands with Mr Abrams and walked to the truck. We still had the space for a little while, so we left it parked in the long space and returned to see Phyllis. Of course, she cleaned off the already-clean table where we'd been, and led us back with menus and more water.

"So. That's better! You still look perfect, but I'll sleep tonight, even if you cover yourself in hollandaise sauce and corn flakes! What'll you boys really have?"

I liked the idea of the burrito, and since she offered, I accepted.

"Iced tea with lemon again, Hon?"

"Yes, please! And instead of potatoes, can I ask for fresh fruit?"

"Such a good boy! I bet your mom is always proud of you!"

"Well.....most of the time!"

"Marc, what're you going to have?"

"Phyllis, I know this'll sound silly, but do you by any chance have any of that incredible hash left over? That was so good, and I know there's no one in Lewistown who has it."

"You sure? The Empire used to have it. Of course, the last time I was there, Bill Clinton was in office. Anyway, of course we have it; it's always on the menu. Sometimes we have it on a special so folks know what we do with the corned beef that doesn't make it into a sandwich. You want fruit again, too? And a V8?"

"Yes to the fruit, but iced tea with lemon for me, too, please."

"It's all on the way, Boys; hang tight! Here's the paper. Shout if you need anything!"

With that, Phyllis whistled and took off, and Marc and I did our darndest to once again wrap our feet and legs around each other under the table. I saw a text on my phone from Tommy.

"Did you two move down there or something? Fergus County not good enough for The Gays anymore?"

"Heh. Nope. Neither one of us is a big fan of the big city. Not this one, anyway. We're eating breakfast at the diner across from the hotel. We'll go get the furniture and then head home."

"What furniture?"

"I needed a new bed, and ended up getting a whole room of furniture to go with it."

"What'd you do to your bed? Or maybe I shouldn't ask....."

"You can ask. Of course, if you do, I'll answer.....so be careful....."

"Oh, I can guess; you don't have to bore me with the details. Yeah, that bed is pretty small; I know I slept in there with you a few times and it was small, and you and I were smaller, too. How you two can do it, I'll just have to leave to my imagination-----and try hard to not imagine."

"You're so smart; I can see why they let you graduate after your third attempt. So what's going on up there? Why're you texting me?"

"No real reason. K and I are coming to the interview. That room is gonna be packed. If the school board sold tickets, they could afford to buy some fancy new band uniforms with the proceeds."

"Yeah, this is getting to be like an extra circus performance. Only hours away. We'll be there by Noon, assuming loading up the furniture goes well."

"I'll come over and help y'all unload it, if ya want."

"I want. Thanks, Tommy. I'm gonna drop Marc in town on my way through. Send you a text when I get headed to the farm?"

"Yep, that'll work. Oh----the other reason for textin' yer knappy head: heard on the news there's some big collision on 87 North of Roundup. Some combine and a tractor-trailer collided. There were casualties, so it could still be an issue if that's the route you're takin'."

"It was gonna be.....we'll head up through Judith Gap, instead. Thanks for the heads-up on that. Today is not a day to be delayed getting back. Say hi to K for me; see you in awhile."

"Later, Loser."

"Suck it, Bitch."

I laughed and returned my attention to Marc. I told him what Tommy had told me.

"Ah, so I get to see another route into Fergus County. That's good. Am I gonna drive some of it?"

"I hope you'll want to. The trailer and truck will drive differently under load. You'll see."

Phyllis brought breakfast, which we enjoyed. Not exactly leisurely like yesterday, but still savored. The burrito was good, but a novelty I would not race to have again. I've always been fairly conservative with breakfast options, and it's my firm belief dinosaurs evolved into chickens so there'd be hen's eggs for omelettes for me.

We bid our new friend farewell, and promised we'd return to Billings, if only for her and her diner.

"If I'm still alive and if that old crotchety crank in the kitchen gets off my back, I'll still open this place up and welcome you boys! Oh----my great-grandson is going to create a website for this place! I have no idea what that'll do for me, but it'll get him some Boy Scout badge, so who am I to say no? Have a safe trip home! It sure was good to meet you boys!"

As if we thought that'd be enough, well, no, not quite; there had to be hugs and kisses, too. Breakfasts have desserts in Montana, you know. We got back across the street and made our extra-long way into traffic. Marc thought he'd be funny.

"TACEY!!! NOOOO! You have to pull on the trailer brake first or you'll jack-knife!!! NOOOOO!!!"

I didn't get it, and once Marc explained it, I still didn't get it. I knew who Ricky and Lucy were, but somehow it didn't make sense to me that they'd do anything without Fred and Ethel along for the ride. It gave me an idea, though.....going somewhere with Marc, and bringing Aleksy and Eva with us. Or Tommy and Kristi. After near-universal acceptance by Billings of Marc and me as a couple, I liked the idea of double dates.

Really, though.....as long as Marc and I could get out on adventures like this one, breezin' along with the breeze, we'd probably always find reasons to drive across the state or just across the little pasture, being together for those and everything in between.

We made our way across town to the furniture store, and backed up to the loading docks. All three were empty, and we took the one closest to the street so we wouldn't have to navigate around any other vehicles coming in after us. With the truck locked, we walked around to the front of the building and entered. Teigan and Grace were at the sales desk, but working on separate tasks. They were facing away from each other and not talking. The body language spoke clearly that they were just trying to get through the day.

Marc and I approached and greeted them both. Teigan smiled and said `hi and welcome'. Grace just nodded and resumed looking down at her paperwork. Teigan had all the paperwork ready for signatures. I handed over the check for the total purchase. Teigan giggled and rolled her eyes.

"I promise, Jozef, that I looked for other discounts! Nothing else showed up! The owners checked all my work, and said it was perfect. They hope you liked how this all went, so if you decide to buy other furniture, you'll come back to us!"

"Teigan, as long as you're still here, we'll buy furniture from here."

"Jozef, if you'd like to come with me, we can work with the warehouse boys and get your crates loaded into your trailer."

"That's fine. You want to come, Marc?"

"No, but thank you. I want to talk with Grace for a moment if I may."

She looked up from her work and had a suspicious look on her face. She didn't leave, but her body language said she was staying on her side of the counter, and I was damned well going to stay on mine. Teigan and I left.

I knew Marc would get me caught up on the conversation without me.

"Grace. I want to sincerely apologize to you for all the pain, anguish and discomfort Jozef and I caused you a couple of days ago. On reflection, you must feel that we were purposefully hurtful to you by just wanting to be treated like you'd want yourself treated. With respect and dignity. That was our intention when we came here, regardless who worked with us to look at furniture."

"I don't think this conversation is necessary."

"Then we won't have a conversation, Grace; no dialogue. Just monologue. Here goes. This world is filled with people who don't like other people, and most of the time, the vast majority of the time, because two people played the Telephone Game, and it just rolled downhill from there.

Jozef and I came in here to buy furniture. We didn't have an agenda beyond that. For reasons which I don't doubt are sincere and deeply held by you, our mere existence challenged your mere existence. I get that. Since it's unlikely you and we will meet again, and probably not here, I just want to thank you for doing all you could to be civil and respectful to us."

"Is this over yet?"

"Just about. I hope you find peace, Grace. Your faith is about peace. But it's peace you have to work for; no one else can promise and deliver you the peace you are fully capable of getting and giving on your own. I hope it will work for you. Thank you for this experience. It is something Jozef and I have discussed at length. We wish you well, and a life of happiness and security----and kindness and respect for others you might not know or understand, but who are, nonetheless, your neighbors. Like us."

I reached my hand out to her. Grace turned and walked away. Okay. Well, there's that.

Jozef and Teigan returned from the warehouse. Both were smiling and joking about something. I was glad to be the one listening now, but I'd recount my Grace conversation with Jozef once we were on the road.

I walked back with Teigan from the warehouse after the trailer was loaded and secured. She had such a good, friendly, wholesome personality. Wherever she went from furniture sales, that store would miss her. We passed Grace, or she passed us, but in either case, Teigan and I were invisible. Isn't life supposed to be too short for bullshit? Maybe I'm wrong. We reached Marc.

"Boyfriend, we're actually already loaded. Six men who could play football for the Montana Grizzlies played Tetris with the crates and got them all organized in the trailer, and tied down where necessary. They'll make the trip back just fine."

"Good. Is the paperwork all completed, too?"

"It is. Teigan is making us copies now, as well as getting us the warranty documents. We're ready to fly, loaded thickly with Stickley!"

I noticed Marc seemed to be in Professor Mode, based on his body language and tone of voice. I imagined he'd been talking with Grace. Who can enjoy completely a room full of furniture when it cost a lot of money and some heartache, too?

With everything in a folder for us, Teigan walked us back to the loading dock. We got in the truck, and I rolled down the window so we could talk.

"Eva already knows about you. No details; just that you exist. If you really want to try working there and doing your school work with the rest of the cool distance-learnin' kids in Fergus County, you're welcome among us. We're a fun group of serious students. You'll be one of us, and have a job with a great team, too.

And if you want to come up on a weekend or something and check the operation out, you can stay with Marc and me in our house on the farm. We have six bedrooms and lots of bathrooms. You have my number; just say `when', and we'll lay out fresh sheets for ya!"

Teigan smiled and laughed like she was singing, and I thought if she can do that for the customers at `Common Grounds', that shack will have only a more stellar reputation. We waved and drove off, my phone communicating with Dad's truck to head us in the different route home.

I'd been on that road only twice, but appreciated the different views. Marc was the captain of the ship, the captain of my heart, and would within hours see if being at the helm of a small-town school district might make sense for everyone in cosmopolitan Lewistown, Montana, population 5,751.

"Hmmm.....Babe, this furniture is heavy, but surely horses and hay weigh more. Does this truck ever really get challenged?"

"It can, but not these days. Not with this trailer. A flatbed loaded with hay, though.....a different story. That can be fifteen tons of drag. This isn't even one net ton."

"Have you towed that much?"

"I have. Not often. It's not that Dad didn't trust me; he knew my interests were in stuff in the field, not on the road. Now, MOM is a serious hay jockey. Ain't nothin' that woman is afraid to haul or tow. Did you know Montana used to be a lot larger? Heh. It was until Mom hitched up the useless half of it and dragged the land east and put up a fence. Now there are the Dakotas as a result. Anyway. How're you doing? Are you comfortable?"

"That's not only hilarious, it's completely within the realm of reason, knowing Marie as I do. But yeah, I'm fine. I think we're the slowest vehicle on the road, and I'm staying steady at 70. So.....when we get to town, from what this looks like, we'll pass the farm to get me into my place to get cleaned up. Seems inefficient. Probably silly to ask, but can I just clean up on the farm and then go into the interview from there?"

"Heck, yeah. Oh.....I get it. You're concerned about a vehicle, aren't you? Well, you can drive this if you want. Mom and I will ride in her truck, and of course, you can come with us."

"Thanks, Babe. You know, I'm thinking I need to be seen going into this on my own. I can't believe I'm so concerned with appearance, but for some reason, it seems to me like this part of the world lives to examine each other and draw conclusions based entirely on what each other wears and drives."

"You're not wrong. You're forgetting the music listened to and the World View shared, too. We all compare with each other. There's a visceral fear in an agro community that someone is getting ahead of me, as well as any appearance that I'm getting ahead of them. It's like we all want the same handicap in golf, but no one will admit it. Strange, but it's just the way it has always been."

"I think being a stranger new to town isn't exactly helpful to me, is it?"

"Nope. I'll be honest. There's doubt, skepticism and suspicion about anything or anyone new. It's part of how you became an instant celebrity. You took Junior down, and all of a sudden, everyone is curious about you. Honestly, if I'd done what you did? People would've yawned and moved on. Some people can be resentful when a stranger opens a window in a house and shows just how much dust and dirt have accumulated inside. That's true of any place and any people; not just here and not just us."

"I wonder if that's what has the school board so stressed."

"Probably part of it. Remember that people here don't like anyone getting ahead of them? That's only some people. Not everyone. Yours is a simple situation: you're interviewing for a job to lead a school district. Five schools, five principals, dozens of teachers and staff, and hundreds of kids in their education. There's probably a big curiosity among some of the folks about how you are going to do that, and honestly, why you'd want to."

"Oh.....the whole `over-qualified' thing."

"And over-educated. Some will believe that. I don't think more than a very small minority, though. Every community has its nattering nay-bobs of negativity, but here? Kids are the future of this county, and it's common sense that we need to create the best minds possible to keep Central Montana vibrant and productive."

Marc didn't answer. He nodded and kept his eyes on the road. My answers were honest and candid. Marc knew by now what he was getting himself into, as regards the demands of the job. The expectations of the citizens, though.....well, even life-long-there Me could never fully understand or predict what would keep people happy. Mr B was able to do it. I don't think he'd have spent fifteen seconds with Marc last week if he didn't think Mr and Mrs Taylor's grandson wasn't a very likely boon to the community and the schools.

I slid my hand over and placed it gently but firmly on Marc's thigh. Despite honesty and candor, there was still some assurance that Marc had all of Team W and many more people going into that interview with him, and all of us fully confident in his abilities. Marc smiled over at me.

"Thanks, Babe. Don't suppose you could sit by me in the interview and just do that from start to finish....."

"Heck, yeah! Although I think I'd be a warthog-lookin' bump on a log if I sit next to you in that suit."

"No one will even notice the suit if you're in the room with me. That'll never change. Certainly not if I have MY say in the matter."

Marc said the nicest things to me that Summer. No one had ever been unkind or not nice to me, but my boyfriend put so many kind remarks in my First National Bank of Farm-Boy Emotions that I was being truly, sincerely, meaningfully spoiled every moment I was near him. There are people who say, "I love you", and they mean it. Then there are people who say, "Sit with me", and it means the exact same thing.

It's the people who say nothing but say everything by just enjoying you in the warmth of the Sun on an old, pothole-filled road from Billings to Lewistown that you really need to look out for. When you find one of those people, make him your own. Hold him in the palm of your hand; supported, loved, cherished and protected with your life, as close to seventy years and Suite 2021 as you can get.

The ride on three highways----Mt-3, US-191 and US-87----was uneventful, and fast. Again, Marc managed that drive like he'd done it all his life. I forced no conversation, backing off so Marc could talk as much or as little as he wanted. Of course his mind would be on the interview, if it would actually end up being an interview. It seemed to me that it was already being hyped and anticipated like some prize fight in Las Vegas.

I remembered Tom. Sheesh. Here's this kid, as close to me as a brother, and I parked him too far outside of my mind.

"Marc, I need to talk with my Boy for a couple of moments. Are you comfortable with that?"

"I am. I'm sure if I get scared of a tumbleweed, you can keep me focused and talk with Tom at the same time."

I smiled and squeezed his leg. Marc was so easy to love and adore. I pressed on Tom's name and his phone rang.

"Jeffrey, where are you?"

"I'm right here. Where are you?"

"Right here. I can't see you. Are you sure you're there?"

"Nope. Not sure of anything, ya Pokey Okie. Before I say anything more: is it just you and me, or K, are you there, too?"

"Just you and me, Bud. Kristi is doing something with her mom."

"Okay. So, things have changed recently for you and me....."

"WELL, NO SHIT!"

"You made it through okay, Tommy? I mean, you'd never done it before, as I recall."

"Are we talking about me dislocating my shoulder, or relocating my scrotum? I think it's up around my tail bone now."

"Neither of those, but.....how'd it get.....just what were you two crazy kids doing?!"

"Can't say. I promised K I wouldn't. We didn't discuss showing the pictures I took, though....."

"NO! Don't even think about it! That's something I can't unsee!"

"Nah. But I am going to hold onto them, in case either K or I get famous, and after we divorce and she takes me to the cleaners, I'll be broke and need to sell em to the National Enquirer'. Umm, hey, though.....enough about K n' me.....uh, can I ask a question?"

"Remains to be seen. Give it your best shot, though. My cell phone plan has unlimited minutes. I'm sure you'll take up many of `em."

"Dick. Always gotta be a dick, doncha, Jeffrey? Anyway. You know how `it' works between a guy and a girl; I know you did that at least as far back as your freshman year, when you were only....."

"I remember how old I was."

"I think all the girls in the school knew, too. Once they learned, some of em probably hoped your parents would hire em as a babysitter for you."

"You had a question, Thomas?"

"Oh, yeah. Okay, so I'm gonna ask this because we're Boys and all, and because I don't know who else to ask."

"You keep saying you have a question.....and yet, like Tomorrow, it never comes."

"`Comes'! Okay, there we go! That's part of it! Thanks for breaking the ice hymen, Jeffrey!"

"`Ice Hymen'? That's actually pretty good.....might have to park that away for future use....."

"So, I know guys all have the same equipment, and I know you gay guys kinda mix things up a bit, and I know in theory what goes where, but.....do you have a name for it?"

"For what? You've known for years his name is `Paco'."

"Yeah, I know THAT, but.....um.....is the place where all the Gay Pacos go still called an ass'? Butt'? What do you call it?"

"Pussy."

"NO SHIT?! You call it a pussy?"

"No, I call YOU a pussy. You're a pussy because you waited to ask that when I'm a hundred and fifty miles away so I couldn't smack ya the good smack ya deserve and dislocate your other shoulder."

"Damnit, Jeffrey!"

"There is no name for it'. It's still an ass, if it's called anything at all. Just.....ass'."

"Oh.....just like you."

"BOTH shoulders, Tommy. Same time. You'd better get on a liquid diet by the time I get back, because using toilet paper is gonna be a real challenge for ya."

"Well who else am I gonna ask?! And anyway, I figured you know by now! If you're an instant expert with that like you were with pussy-eatin', you must know everything by now!"

"I will never be an expert at this', but you know what they say: practice, practice, practice'. The piano or the pecker, ya gotta practice.

"Ewwww!"

"YOU ASKED, ya skinny fucker!"

"So.....did you like it? It.....felt.....good?"

"Good enough to `practice' about six more times after the first one."

"No shit!"

"Nope. None. That's why we kept going."

"What......oh, you're nasty."

"SURPRISE!"

"I'm NOT surprised that you're nasty. Okay, well, just wondered. You n' me, we're tight, and I just wondered. Well, I mean, I'M still tight....."

"Me, too. Wanna see? I can kinda maneuver around on this seat and get a picture on my phone. Just take a second....."

"NO, thank you very much!"

"Why not? You seem comfortable talking about it on the phone; why not see it, too?"

"Why did I even call you, I'll never know. Sheesh. I could've just asked Trace to ask Toby. I wonder if they talk about this stuff, too."

I just shook my head. I wanted to say they probably didn't talk about it because their studly cowboy mouths were likely busy in other pursuits with each other's other studly cowboy parts.

Tommy and I had been through a lot of school and a lot of conversation since he and his folks moved from Oklahoma three years ago. There wasn't much we'd never discussed. This conversation was no shock to me at all; I honestly figured we'd go out on our horses someday and he'd get around to the subject about how `The Gays Do It'.

So Tommy was still in the dark about his brother. Trace is his own man. I've known him for three years, too. I liked him. People always knew where they stood with Trace Sanger. Well, except maybe for his little brother. I was not going to pull that curtain back to reveal anything.

Something I felt pretty sure about, though: When Trace got around to talking with his folks, he'd find an immediate ally in Tommy. Toby, too, if he'd end up in the picture. One thing's for sure: any picture with Trace and Toby in it? Fuck. Beautiful People. Everyone would want to see that picture.

"Anyway, TOM: No, you're not gonna see `it', which at this moment has not been named. I'll get around to it."

"I bet Marc gets around' to it' before you do."

"If I had my way, Marc would've gotten around to `it' right before this conversation, so I wouldn't have had to waste six minutes with your questionable curiosity about gay anal intercourse."

"You don't call it `butt sex'? That's what K and I felt comfortable with after we talked with you. We looked it up online. Be careful, though; don't wear your ass out so it prolapses and drags around on the floor behind you. If you forget that sage advice, remember this: there are Depends for teenage sluts. Extra support, but you pay for it."

"Tommy, I love you like a brother. You have neither filter nor limit. You realize, though: you're eighteen. I'm seventeen. Some would say this kind of talk from you could corrupt me."

"Who in Fergus County would ever think you're not already corrupt, `Frogman'! Oh----I love you, too, Jeffrey."

"RIBBIT! Well, you know my number; call me with any other questions I can answer for you, which you could answer for yourself with a copy of `The Joy Of Gay Sex'----if you weren't illiterate."

"Why learn to read when you can just look at the pictures? Oh: which chapters of that book did YOU pose for, Jeffrey?!"

My boy hung up on me, and I laughed at all of our conversation. He and I had more laughs together than we'd ever remember the reasons for them. There was only once in all our time being boys together that I was angry with Tommy. Somehow the subject of our brothers came up. It was all fun until it wasn't anymore. We were sitting at his place after school one day in November. Tom just wanted to be funny, but he didn't know how far off the mark he was.

"Your two brothers probably left just to get away from you, ya whiney baby!"

I stopped breathing. I was raging with fury instantly. I didn't know why I was so angry, but I was. I had tears in my eyes, and soon no longer, because they were racing down my face to my boots. I wanted nothing more than to get in a fist fight with a big round straw bale out in a field. Tom meant nothing by it. The subject of Gus and Anders leaving the farm was never discussed by Tom and me. Not until then. He knew nothing, and his ignorance brought no bliss with it.

In just one line, though, my Boy gave voice to my long-held fears and suspicions: that I was responsible for having no brothers anymore. And if brothers go, what's stopping my parents from leaving, too? Nothing. Because nothing stops a fifteen-year-old from imagining the worst, and believing it when his best friend makes a casual joke.

Tommy realized immediately that I was not okay with what he'd said. He didn't know why; we'd just never talked about my brothers. If we had, Tom's joke would never have left his lips. He jumped up from where we'd been sitting, on a rock wall that some of the very oldest Tuss homesteaders had built to announce Switzerland Came To Montana. Tommy's arms were around me in an instant, and now he was crying, too.

He still didn't know exactly what or why an otherwise great afternoon had devolved into hell. I wasn't fully sure, myself. But I wasn't going to stick around to tell him. Back then Tommy was maybe 140 pounds. I was 180, and had some height on him, too. I flexed and burst right through his arms. I ran to my horse, mounted and reined back in the direction of our place. Tommy knew it wouldn't be a good time to follow, but he made sure I knew he was hurting, too.

"Jeff! I'm so sorry! What did I do?! I'm real sorry!"

I heard the break in his voice as I tore the fuck out of there. Bolt hadn't really been given a good run, and now was right. The reins were slack. I just said the word `oats' to him.

Bolt, just get me away from that rock wall, and get me away from that moment. Get me to my brothers, somehow, any way possible, so I can say `I'm sorry; what did I do?! Please come home.'

It took me a week of working through Tom's comment. I had to do it alone, because any discussion about my brothers was impossible with my parents. Dad got angry, Mom just got silent and went to find something to do. We all were hurting, deeply and badly; and yet we were the very same three people who could help each other not hurt anymore. Or maybe hurt just a little less.

I thought I'd just received confirmation from someone I trusted and admired and, yes, loved, that my worst fear and suspicion was true: Gus and Anders were gone because of me. I wrote pages and pages in a journal file I had on my laptop. Late at night over many nights, both fingertips and tears pulled me back together. Not completely. Enough that I could ride back to Tom's farm days later.

"Tommy, Bolt. Giddyup."

We were there fast, but not as fast as I'd wanted. It was good to just run with my horse, losing my hat in the wind he and I created, and casting my fear and pain and suffering and regret along with it. The distance seemed forever longer, but I was in no real rush, after all. I needed the time and mileage to build my own apology to Tom, and to explain something I didn't fully understand myself. We'd have years of growing together, Tommy and I, and the realization that we still wouldn't have answers for a lot of the questions we did have.

He saw me from where he and his horse were, out checking the fence perimeter for anything needing fixing. The smile on that kid's face eclipsed the High Noon Sun, and he and his horse were across the field and right next to Bolt and me, our horses nose-to-tail.

Tommy leaned over the side of his saddle and threw his arms around me. That hug, that life-affirming, life-saving embrace from a friend and possibly all I'd ever have as a present brother in my teenaged life, was one I was ready and happy to return. I think we stayed like that for minutes. Long enough for both of us to get each other's t-shirts wet with tears.

The conversation that followed over the rest of that November afternoon was not one I will share with you. Tommy and I have, over the years, many times sought each other's counsel and confidence. There's a look we give each other, silent but as loud as thunder, that what we discuss will remain between us. Part of me will go to his grave, and part of him will go to mine.

That bond with my boy Tommy.....well, I pity any farmer who doesn't have his own Tom, his own Jozef.

The call with Tom ended and my mind returned to this recent trip off the farm. Dad's truck, Dad's trailer, both yet again performing the rare tasks they weren't necessarily born to do. Now it was back to Fergus County for Marc to discuss a job that just maybe he was necessarily born to do.

Time and events have always connected themselves to me, and me to them. I saw my father in Remington's oils and brush strokes and canvases, and now I saw one of my two best friends and me in the same way. What a painted scene that would be: two farm boys on their horses, hugging away a terrible previous moment, the very act a recognition of and commitment to resolving their challenges, together.

Part 3

I didn't realize Marc drove the entire way until we slowed to wave at Eva when we turned onto the county road from the highway. I smiled at Marc who darted his eyes to the side and back again.

"What?"

"You drove the entire way home."

"Oh----I guess I did, Babe. Seems like the whole trip took fifteen minutes."

"Well, it almost took only 15 minutes, Mr Gordon Leadfoot. Now I know this truck can pull a loaded trailer up a 7 percent grade in tenth gear at 80 miles per hour."

"Oh, I wasn't that bad.....was I?"

"Nah. You were that good, Boyfriend. Smooth trip. How'd it feel to you?"

"Other than a road that would give Swiss Cheese a run for its money, everything was fine. This rig is incredible. I hope the furniture is okay."

"Soon to find out. Oh, there's Tommy's truck. He's going to help us unload the furniture. You are not doing that. Sorry to get all commanding, but you likely want to rest and unwind after the trip and prepare for the interview."

"That's almost three hours away. I'm fine. A little lift-and-carry workout will be welcome, anyway. Jozef, there's something I DO want before the interview, though. I think I actually need it as much as I want it."

"It's yours, Boyfriend; whatever it is."

"Just.....be with me. Someplace quiet. Just you and me. Even just ten minutes. I don't express myself as well as you do, and there are reasons for it, but I mean this: I need your solid grounded-ness. Keep me from getting lost in answers to questions that haven't even been asked yet. They don't matter. None of that matters. YOU matter. You and I matter to me. More than.....anything else."

Heh.....and Marc thinks he doesn't express himself as well as I do. Sometimes I'm afraid to open my mouth for fear of what will come flyin' out of it when I'm around my beautiful, buff brainiac. But if he wants me with him for a moment of grounding solitude, he can have it. As much of it and of me as he wants.

I nodded and smiled toward Marc, letting him know I'd like any moment alone with him. My head had been going all over the place that morning, concerned with the furniture, the suits, the trip home, and Marc's interview. I had no reason to worry about anything. Where I wanted my head to go was right on Marc's chest while I laid beside him, one of my legs over both of his, my arm across the rigid core of his stomach.

The way he holds me when I do that is.....well, I think I know. I think it's the way I hold my Little Guy when I go see his mom and his siblings and him; the way I rub my Big Guy between his eyes, something he just stands still for whenever he even thinks I might do just that. It's fascination with the Life that's in my hands, the respect and reverence for it; the appreciation for however it got to me, and certainly the love that I am responsible for giving it while we're together.

Once down the drive and off the county road, Marc asked if I'd take over. He had never backed up anything as long as the truck and trailer, and didn't want to `accidentally destroy the entire farm by turning the wheel the wrong way'.

"`It's just as hard to land as the Ile-de-France.....'"

"`I haven't got a chance.....'"

"`This is a fine romance!'"

We sang the lines just like we were in the Cole Porter play, and I laughed and agreed. We traded places in the truck, and I worked through the maneuvers as well as I could. I was.....'okay' at the procedure, and was more concerned with mistaking the accelerator with the brake than I was turning left or right. I finally had the trailer's gate right where I wanted it, facing the formal (and never used) front door of the house. Rear-view cameras should've been invented before the Reverse gear was, in my humble opinion.

Tom had been at the barn with Aleksy. No doubt giving yet another health check on the Berneezers. It's funny how much I missed them. And Bolt. And Sebby. MAYBE Mom and Aleksy and the other two-legged mammals. Maybe. Soon we were four men, staring down the ass end of a horse trailer at crates of furniture with line art images and descriptions on them. My brother just couldn't wait to be helpful.

"What's that?"

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like a bed, but I know you and your trick questions."

"Well, Big Brother, the joke's on you; it's a bed."

"Y'already break the one you had?"

"Outgrew it, by another six feet and 235 pounds."

"Okay, this has been fun, but you can stop now....."

"I'll make you a deal. You be actually helpful to Marc, Tommy and me getting this stuff uncrated and upstairs, and I'll stop with the expository ejaculation I was prepared to spray and spray and SPRAY all over you."

"GROSS! STOP! FINE! I'll go get a crowbar!!!"

Tom, Marc and I laughed, and Aleksy took off laughing, too. We did not return from Billings to Boredom Acres, and that wasn't ever going to happen on my watch.

Tom and I went upstairs to look at the stuff in my room at present. Rather than haul it all downstairs, we decided to just move it into one of the other empty bedrooms, where it would all find another life there. Mom came up the stairs with a broom and dustpan to get rid of the dust bunnies living beneath my bed. Within maybe ten minutes, my room was cleared out and ready for the new furniture.

Mom was excited to see the new things we'd bought in Billings. I was happy to see how well it all made the 150 mile trip. The crates were secure and padded with foam rubber in the right places, and once out on the lawn, we looked over each piece for any problems or concerns. None. The factory in New York State took care of their furniture even after it had traveled across country.

One by one, all eight pieces of furniture were upstairs. At first I was skeptical that there really was enough space in my bedroom, but after the bed, dresser and chest of drawers were in there, then the night stands, then the two chairs and the ottoman, all five of us still had room to stand there. Mom smiled and nodded her head.

"This house was built just for this furniture, Boys. Well done. Refinishing the floor in here last year was a good idea. Oh------we didn't paint the walls!"

"You know, Mom; I think it's good we didn't. This honey-colored wood looks good against the off-white walls that have the original paint on them. I think. Marc?"

"I like it all, just as it is. Agree with you, Marie; this furniture looks right in this house."

Aleksy smiled. His turn for furniture was next, and I hoped he would take it. His room at the other end of the hall was actually larger than mine by about five additional feet of width. A newborn baby crib would fit well in there, along with whatever else he and Eva settled on. And things for the nursery for the barely-older kids, next door. I'd have to discuss some logistics with my brother before Teigan quit her job in Billings to move here, if she'd actually do that. She deserved every sale she could get before then.

Tom sat in one of the chairs and put his big feet up on the ottoman.

"I'm first! Wow, this is.....nice, Bud. Never seen anything like this before."

"Same, Tommy. Marc picked it out. All my taste is in my mouth."

Mom laughed and headed back downstairs. We boys followed. Those crates had to be broken down. Too bad, too; three-quarter inch plywood and two-by-fours made solid houses for that furniture, all the way from New York to Fergus County. I was already thinking of how to use that lumber.....keep it in the barn and use it to make a treehouse for the kids, of course. Oh, who was I fooling? I wanted a treehouse for myself.

Mom poured lemonade and iced tea for all of us while we put the yard back in order. Tom was going back to their place to get his mom, and they'd drive in to get K and then go to the school board meeting. I appreciated on Marc's behalf the support they were showing someone they'd known for only a few days, but who was already integral to my life. Tom said T & T, as they were becoming known, would maybe also come in. Sounded good to me. I knew none of them would oppose Marc's candidacy for the superintendent job.

Marc got his clothes out of the Super Duty and brought up to our room OUR ROOM! SWOOOOON!!!. We talked, and he accepted the offer to clean up at the farm and then drive my truck into town for the interview. Mom and I would ride in her Expedition. After we got fresh sheets on the new mattress, Marc closed the door and we laid down for a moment, for those fifteen minutes we'd talked about. Just him and me in a quiet room, no rush, no stress, just some grounded-ness.

Maybe it was just me overthinking, but when we laid down and he rolled away from me, that seemed like he was saying, "you're the outside spoon, I'm the inside, and you just wrap those big farm-boy arms around me". Nah, that's not overthinking; that's just replay of previous moments on a mattress with my man.

"You doin' okay, Boyfriend?"

"Never better. This mattress is even better than I'd hoped it would be. What do you think?"

"It's perfect. Long, wide, firm but plush. I'm gonna sleep real well on here later."

"You'll have to call me before you sleep and let me know how you like it."

"I'm gonna call you from my side of the bed to your side?"

"Nah. I'll sleep in town tonight. You should get the first night with all this new stuff, just for yourself."

"I didn't buy it so I could have it `just for myself', for one night or one hour, you Harvard Heckler. You're really staying in town tonight?"

"No.....I was trying to be funny, but fucked that up right properly. I think I'm too tired and too stressed at the same time to make much sense."

"By my calculation, you can get a thirty-minute nap in, if you want."

"I want, Babe."

"I'll go downstairs and keep the house quiet."

"Or you could stay upstairs and keep me grounded, and let me keep you wrapped around me."

"The house was built for the furniture and the furniture was built for us, and I was built for you."

"And, pray tell, what was I built for, Farm Boy?"

"To guarantee the best academic future for the kids of Lewistown and Fergus County. And for me."

"You make nice sense. I like you. You know, when all this is over, we have to talk about you and your academic future. I'm committed to that, and to you. You're far too intelligent to not pursue whatever degrees you want, any and all of which will guarantee the best future for the next kids on this farm."

"I like how you brought that all right back. And I like you, too. Stay nestled in here with me, Marc. Siri, set a buzz timer for thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes, Jozef."

The room was silent. I saw the shadows on the wall and ceiling, of the leaves waving around in the trees, dancing in the slight breeze that made its way from the field to the barn to the yard to the house. I pulled Marc just gently against my chest and kissed the back of his neck. He was already asleep. I felt his grip on my arm relax just a little, and then his entire body sank into that fancy memory foam, 5,000 pocketed coil, 36" thick, organically sourced cotton and wool fabric-covered mattress. I followed, with full faith and confidence in Siri to stand sentinel over us.

Thirty minutes seemed like an entire night's worth of sleep, and often for a farmer, the reverse seems also true. My right arm was beneath my pillow, and I felt the buzz on my wrist. I double-pinched my fingers against my thumb to silence the gentle alarm. Marc stretched his legs toward the end of the bed, but also gripped my arm against his chest.

"Mornin', Babe."

"Heh....'mornin', says the Harvard Professor."

"Didn't I hear the cock crow?"

"Don't you feel the cock grow?"

"I do now. Oh, to be a teenager again....."

"AS IF anything is any different for you, Boyfriend! I've been with you when you've gone from acrobatic to priapic in only seconds."

"Shhh! Say no such words at this moment! I need to keep a more.....shall we say, `interview-appropriate' vocabulary in my head!"

"Well, fine. But later, I have something else to put in your head."

"THAT'S NOT HELPING!"

"Oh. Was I supposed to help, Boyfriend? I'll make it up to you."

"You're adorable. That's the only word in my vocabulary right now. I just need to determine how I can use that in front of the school board. Well, might as well get cleaned up and ready.....how much time do I have?"

"It's 2:15. You have 75 minutes. Are you hungry? Want some more tea or lemonade?"

"I'm not hungry, but I will be. I will take you up on the offer for some iced tea, Babe. Thank you."

I nudged his lovely rump with my hard dick and rolled back away from from, standing up and pulling my shirt out of my Levis to cover Paco, in case anyone was in the kitchen. I headed down the stairs and poured two glasses of tea, squeezing some lemon in, too. Hmmm.....no Mom.

Things were still so new and recent for me that I felt myself getting a little anxious when she wasn't where I was expecting her to be. Curiously, and as was my "new naturally", I looked at the fridge for a note held in place by a banana magnet. Whew. No note. No heart attack, no emergency.

I looked out the kitchen door to see her with the doors open to her Expedition. Parked along side of it was Kelly Sanger's rig. Nice. So she and Tom were riding in with Mom and me. A kind of `Trojan Horse', if you will; we'd get on the school property and spill out in force of support for one Marc Taylor in his interview. I probably hadn't heard as much as there was to know about this interview, but it was being held in public. Seemed like a possible kangaroo court, to me.

Mom, Kelly and Tom came in the house. I had the pitchers of tea and lemonade out, ready to pour if they wanted some. Kelly pulled me into a big farm wife hug. I loved all of Team Sanger. Old souls, new to Montana. We really needed to revisit how we were going to make things right all the way around. I knew Mom and Aleksy hadn't forgot about them, and I sure hadn't.

After a few moments of catching up, I said I was going up to take Marc his tea and help him get ready. I motioned to Tom with my head that he should join me. He smiled, grabbed his glass of lemonade and we got back upstairs. Tom seemed to have claimed that particular chair as his own. I opened the closet and removed Marc's suit and shoes. Tom whistled.

"Heck, I ain't even seen that on Marc, and I can tell already he's gonna own every pair of eyes in that room. Well, pair-and-a-half; Rhys Morgan only has one eye, but he'll be using it overtime to see the college professor walk in in THAT."

Marc walked into the room with a bath towel wrapped around his waist. He smiled at Tom, who seemed suddenly to want out of the room.

"Hey again, Marc. Sorry, Bud; I'll get out of here so you can dress."

"Tom, if you leave, you're only going to make this awkward. You've been in a locker room before, I'm sure."

"Well, yeah, Marc; but are you sure?"

"You're my Man's Boy. Sit there and drink your lemonade, ya dainty flower!"

HOLY SHIT! Marc just smacked Tommy with something I'd say, myself! Both Tom and I laughed, and he sat right back down and put his feet up again. I moved to the closet and brought out the shirts on hangers for Marc to choose. He went with the light gray shirt and the maroon repp tie. Oh, yeah. Swoon. Sigh.

Once he was in underwear and socks, then the trousers, then the shirt, then the tie, Tommy and I whistled and stomped our feet. Marc looked so good, and yet again, yet still, he looked like he was poured into liquid fabric. I knew Mom and Kelly would think so, too. If they didn't, I was gonna move to town. Well, until they came to their senses. Me, live in a town?! Seriously. Not happenin'.

All I had was one small mirror in my room. Note To Self: triple-paned folding wings mirror. Whatever those things are called. And a better light fixture or two. When Marc was finished appraising himself in what little reflectivity I had in my----OUR----room, I stood and straightened his tie. I turned my head and smiled at Tommy.

"Warning-----close yer eyes, Tommy!"

He grinned at me and smacked both hands over his eyes, and then spread his fingers so he could see that Marc and I moved in for a fairly steamy, passionate kiss. The first one we'd shared after he was haberdashed from the ground up.

"You are beautiful. You're perfect, Marc."

"Thanks, Babe. If only you ever think so, then three days in Billings, Montana, will have been worth it."

One more kiss and I stepped back. Tom nodded his approval at Marc in his suit. I helped Marc's shoes on and tied his laces. They were nice, too. Not squared toes. The shoes were actually Brogues, and probably the nicest dark-dark gray leather I'd ever seen.

"Do I pass final inspection, Men?"

Tom laughed and shook his head.

"I think you'll have your final inspection downstairs, Marc. But for me? Yeah, you'll do, I guess."

I laughed at Tommy, but agreed. Mom and Kelly were farm wives and just Good Ol' Girls, but they knew and appreciated what looked good. They'd both seen us boys off to our Senior Prom and graduation, and you'd have thought they were fashion editors for GQ and Esquire. Nothing escaped their critical eyes, and Tommy and I were always the better for it.

The three of us made our way downstairs. Mom turned and saw us first. She grinned broadly at Marc and parked her hands on her hips.

"Perry dressed Ned and I see he has only improved on his skills and talent! Marc, you look like a million dollars in that suit!"

Kelly just whistled and spoke just a little too loudly.

"Tom, go tell your father I want a divorce!"

We all laughed, and I checked my watch. 2:55PM. Thirty-five minutes to showtime.

"Marc is gonna take my truck in. I'll ride with you, Kelly and Tommy. That all right?"

Everyone agreed. Marc took off his jacket and folded it neatly. I handed him the keys to my truck while I walked him out to it. We got to the door, which I kinda felt obligated to open for him. He smiled and shook his head.

"Babe, thank you."

"You feeling all right about all this?"

"I feel great about it. This is a job that's a much better use of all of me than lecturing in a classroom for the rest of my life would've been. I'm glad you'll be there. I don't quite know what to expect, though. I guess we'll find out in half an hour or so."

"That's right, Boyfriend. Something you don't have to wait to find out, though: One, everyone on the farm thinks you're hot as fuck. Two, I have nothing but pride and love in my heart for you, Marc. So proud."

I leaned in to give him a kiss, and just as our lips met, my brother had to just kill the moment.

"Hey! You two! There's some important interviewin' to go on soon! Don't hold up the show! Marc, I wish you all the luck, but honestly, I wish the school board more luck. They're gonna need it when you roll on up into that room, lookin' like that!"

They shook hands and laughed, and Aleksy and I stepped back as Marc turned the motor over. My old---but clean---truck drove off, horn honking twice, carrying the man who carried my heart with him. Damn, I wanted this to go well for him. For us. Yeah, he has a Plan B. Good. I just didn't want him to get past Plan A.

Aleksy squeezed my shoulder.

"You know, this moment would not be happening if you hadn't been up too early a couple of Sundays ago. Not to swell your already-fat head or anything, but you might've just saved public education in Lewistown and Fergus County. I hope you can live with the gravity of your recent insomnia."

"You're such a fucker, you know that? Put all the responsibility on me, why doncha?!"

"You don't have to ask; I just did that. You just can't pay attention, can you?"

"Not with what we'll make on this harvest. I knew I should've stayed home and sent YOU to Billings with Marc."

"If you'd have sent me to Billings with Marc, and knowing how good he'd end up looking in a suit from there? Mom might be wondering right now how she'd get any kids out of you and me. Damn, that guy looks like he can own the world with just a glance. You should get in to town, too; you might not get a place in the school board room."

Just as Aleksy said that, Mom, Kelly and Tommy walked out of the kitchen. What was with Marie Wojtowicz' `I'm- President-Volodymyr-Zylenskyy-In-Disguise' face all of a sudden?

"Let's go! I'd rather get there before I have to strong-arm someone else for their seats!"

Mom was serious, even when she was being funny. A laser death glare from her would have Vladimir Putin gladly handing back the Crimean Peninsula to the Ukrainians. We got in the truck and headed up to the county road, not too far behind Marc. The ride in was fast; not even a moment to wave at Eva, who had her usual long line.

Part 4

The School District Number One's offices were in the former Lincoln Elementary School, which saw its last class in 1977. It was at the West end of town, right off Seventh and Main. Fast and easy to get to. Mom parked across the street in front of the house that was for decades the Lewistown Christian Science Reading Room. I saw Mr B's car by the old Hotel Calvert, and my truck parked by his. There were plenty of other vehicles around the former elementary school, so I guessed the meeting would have a crowd.

Once inside, that small detail was made obvious. The school board's meeting room door was closed. At least 70 or 80 people were milling around in the hallway, and others followed us in the front doors. I saw Dan Gremaux standing beside the meeting room's closed door. I smiled at him and walked up to shake his hand. I spoke with a quieter voice, something that is quite the feat for me in public.

"Hey, Sheriff Candidate; how's it going? What brings you here today?"

"The official reason?"

Dan pointed to a small decal at the top of the door that read, "Capacity: 100". Ah. Well, sure; that makes sense, though sending a state trooper to enforce that was a bit of a stretch.

"And the unofficial reason, Officer?"

"I've heard too much talk about this interview and its public nature. I can---and will---put an end to this, if it becomes a spectacle. All out of the interest of public safety, of course. I don't get quite yet why Marc Taylor's interview is public, but the one going on right now is not. Nor was the first one that was yesterday."

"I've been out of town for a few days, and word got to me that this most unusual procedure was drawing attention. Small-town politics seem to have involved themselves in an interview for a non-political job. Certain people who may or may not be related to me have a suspicion about the motives of a school board member or two."

"Ah. Marie is the wisest owl in this county. Nothing gets past her."

"I know! I've tried for seventeen years to get away with something----anything----and all I got for my efforts were several raised eyebrows and the Silent Treatment until I made `better choices'!"

"Heh.....yeah, well, I can't say I didn't see that same look' a time or two in your brother's company. Hey, Jozef.....go get her, and the Sangers, too.....come back here with em, okay?"

"Dan, you are the ultimate gate-keeper! Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"Whaaaat?! What would little ol' me be doing? Stop being so suspicious!"

I laughed and walked back down the hall where I found Mom, Kelly and Tommy. Mom was on her cell phone with someone, and she looked animated. Uh-oh. Now what? She hung up and looked at me like someone---and I hoped not myself---was gonna get a beatin'.

"Mom, Officer Gremaux has asked to talk with you, please."

I said that in as straight a face as a gay farm boy can manage, and sure enough, Mom had to think for a moment who I was talking about. She rolled her eyes at me and pulled Kelly forward. Tom and I brought up the rear.

"Hi, Dan; here to keep the peace, or are you also interviewing for the job of superintendent?"

"Ha! Marie, this is as close as I want to get to stepping into Emil Boldonovic's shoes. Mr Taylor is both brave and capable. I've seen him in action and I've seen his resume. A copy of it was on the Xerox machine in the office. What else can that guy do, I wonder?"

I smiled off in the distance. I had the answer to that question. So did Anna, and by then, the entire staff at the Billings Sheraton.

"Marie, stay close with me. As soon as one of the school board opens this door, I'll hold it for the four of you. Jozef, Marc is in Mr B's office with him. I imagine they'll go into the board room through that door. Good luck, Marc; good luck, all of you."

We thanked him, and Mom looked at her phone again. She had received a text message from someone, and again, didn't look happy about it. A couple of minutes later, we could see through the frosted glass in the door a shadow approach from the other side. Ooooo.....that sounded kinda creepy: `a shadow approached from The Other Side'. Well, this whole thing was getting creepy, although I knew my mind could sometimes get inside my head, and those two had no business coming up with nonsense on that day.

The door opened and a red-headed woman I didn't know walked out with a baby in a carrier, followed by a man shorter and leaner than Tommy, I was guessing might be in his mid-30s. It's not easy to tell from appearance. he was dressed in a white shirt, the arms reaching to his elbows, and a black tie. Pants? Also black. I'd not seen that man before. We stood aside as they passed. The man looked pleased about something. The younger woman looked like she had a nasty diaper to attend to, and probably for the third time that day.

Dan and Mom exchanged a look that was a mystery to me, but probably spoke volumes between them. He stepped back slightly, giving way to Mom and Kelly. Tom and I followed. The room was empty, except for the five members of the school board. Three women, two men, all in an age range from perhaps 30s to 60s. Mrs Heusen, someone I'd known since I could know people, was the school board chief.

She determined schedule and procedure. Her knowledge of Robert's Rules of Order was in-depth and unapologetic in its application. She was a legend on the Montana and Wyoming high school debate circuit as an adjudicator. If I'd had more time in my school days, I would've been interested in Debate. As it was, I got plenty of practice in conversation with Sebastian and Bolt. That was enough, though my `wins' weren't all that satisfying---nor frequent.

Next to her sat Jon Black. He ran for a seat on the school board when Marc's grandmother, Mrs Taylor, retired from it three years previously. Jon Black owned and operated the dollar store in town, as well as the town's only small engine repair shop. Nanette Black ran the dollar store and Jon Black took care of lawn mowers, chain saws and generators.

Nanette Black moved in the door right behind Tommy, taking a seat close to far side of the board, itself. We were at the other end, where Mandy Blinken sat.

Heh.....that `board'. About ten years ago, one of the Great Falls TV stations was doing some remodeling. The news desk was being replaced by chrome and glass, giving welcome rest to the heavy oak and brass curved desk where three news presenters sat. Someone in Lewistown found out about the change, and whether they paid for it or the desk was free, it found its way to Lewistown and into the school board's meeting room.

Conspicuous was the shadow where the former TV station logo had been, on the front and in the middle of the desk. A big numeral 3 and the smaller (but not much smaller) letters KRTV beneath it. The same furniture-finder built two extensions on either end to accommodate two more chairs, and instantly, the five members of the school board looked like they were Lewistown's own Walter Cronkite, Barbara Walters, Rachel Maddow and more. Oh, if only.

The three other members, Corinne Delphine, Mandy Blinken and Mike MacWorter, sat looking at some paperwork before them. Mike was a slight man, very much our town's Mr Limpet, and the owner of the movie theater in town. He had been in school with Mom, and had been to the farm a few times with his wife. I was really young, and played with their kids in the barn. Mike was a good businessman, though not exactly trailblazing in the choice of titles at the movie theater.

He played it safe, but people still bought tickets for movies that would entertain the broadest audience with whatever was buzzed the most. No retrospective film series of Spike Lee, John Cassavetes or Pedro Almodovar. I doubt we would even get a complete screening all of Mel Brooks' oeuvre, try though I might to campaign for exactly that.

Mr MacWorter was really just in the business of telling what was told to him, in the form of multiple big reels of celluloid stories arriving in the theater's back door to present to the paying public coming in the front door. I can only imagine what kind of movie he would've made himself, if he were on the other side of production and distribution, being the guy who created the information and not only disseminated it.

Mandy Blinken was Jon Black's sister's husband's sister. There was not a multi-level marketing scheme she did not embrace----and corner other people in the area to also embrace. Sometimes they'd sign up to be on her downline, whether to just make her go away or because like anything else, if a hundred other sheep are doing it, there must be some benefit. There rarely was. No one buys Amway soap anymore.

Mandy ran for the school board seat, despite having no children of her own in school. Her concerns were Jon Black's concerns: indoctrination in the intentionally subtle form of education. Their solution to the problem that didn't exist? Indoctrination in the subtle form of education. Of course, theirs was different. It's always different. They had their agenda, and counted on civic passivity among the citizens to all but guarantee that Lewistown would become an activist school district, one school board seat election at a time.

Mom's friends were Mrs Heusen, Mike MacWorter and Corinne Delphine. The were engaged and involved, in not only the school district but the community. They contacted any celebrity they could to get a speaking engagement at graduation, and were sometimes successful. Mrs Heusen actually got an entire tv program production to film on location in Fergus County.

It drew tourists from all over to watch how a program was produced, and after the program ended its run, the star of the show, Cam Cading, bought the very property used for local filming and moved there, before he was even an adult. Mrs Heusen was a promoter, and she was often heard saying, `The school board's only job is promoting the best education to promote the best minds in our students'. No one argued.

Corinne Delphine was the town's exotic citizen. She was an immigrant from France. Not exciting' France, like Paris, but a small commune northwest of there called Pontoin. The main road through town, or rather the road that the town was built around, ran all the way from Rome, two thousand years earlier. Corinne was a teacher at the French version of a Montessori school, and then the director. She saw the old movie Heartland' and moved to America, and then Montana, in the hopes of teaching in schools there. She did, teaching French and German (because no one in the rest of the world speaks only two languages).

I wasn't going to be foolish and pass up an opportunity to learn another language from a native speaker. From age twelve to sixteen, I inhaled French vocabulary and grammar, and whenever Mademoiselle Delphine et moi met and wherever we were, the conversation was not in English. She looked up when she saw Mom and her entourage enter the room, and smiled just slightly in my direction. Although I still didn't understand the forum for this interview, I was looking forward to Corinne Delphine's conversation with Marc. If it would be in English was anyone's guess.

I looked around the room as more people filed through the door. Marc will spend many hours in this room', I thought. I know where my man will be working, and who he will be working with'. `Marc Taylor, Superintendent of Public Schools, Lewistown District Number One.'

Other thoughts, though, too. I can never bring Marc dinner when I know he'll be here late.' I will not know private functions like a Christmas party as Marc's guest.' `Marc Taylor, friend of the family'.

I grimaced inside. That would be our reality. No one would need to tell Marc---or me---that our life together would be quietly spent with the shades drawn more often than not. Sigh. Still.....

My family has never grown food for only our own sustenance. We blazed that path to feed a community and make a living from it. Marc Taylor did not submit his resume to Mr B for the sake of a paycheck alone. His responsibility would be to a community, too; fed not grains and meat and eggs, but knowledge, ideas and inspiration. Arguably, that's why everyone becomes an educator. Neither farming nor teaching are for the paycheck. Not in Fergus County.

More people came in, most standing against two walls. It was suddenly very warm in there. Mike MacWorter stood and walked to the wall adjacent to where the board sat and opened three windows. Ahhh.....better already. Dan must've been counting people coming into the room, because he stepped into the doorway itself and told those still in the hallway that the room had reached its capacity. Jon Black seemed irritated by that.

"There's still plenty of room for taxpayers in here."

(Of course, it was only a matter of time until someone equated an education with a tax burden. We didn't have to wait long for it.)

"The room's capacity has been met, or will be when Mr Boldonovic and Mr Taylor are present. One hundred people is the maximum, per public safety and fire code."

Jon Black just always wanted the last word, though.

"Then leave the door open so the others aren't excluded!"

Someone in the room, I don't know who, wasn't taking that comment in stride.

"Were `the taxpayers' included in the other two interviews, Jon?"

Some assenting `uh-huhs!' Were heard. Jon Black just looked menacingly around the room. God, I wanted to hold a mirror up to him right then so he could see how less like a leader he was, and more like our local Jabba-The-Hutt. And not the handsome one, either.

Mrs Heusen addressed Dan, smiling slightly.

"That's ninety-three more people in here than in the most recent interview. Officer, will you please close the door?"

Jon Black moved to object, but the glacial stare from Mrs Heusen gave him no quarter. He shook his head and exhaled his great displeasure with a woman telling a man `no'.

Dan nodded and reached for the handle, pulling the huge and heavy door closed with the strong latch performing its own call-to-order version of a gavel on a judge's bench. Mrs Heusen stood and walked to the door leading into the superintendent's office. She knocked and then opened, her head slightly inside.

I could hear Mr B's voice, and then Marc's. Mrs Heusen opened the door wide, and both men entered the room. She returned to her seat, and motioned for Mr B and Marc to sit on the opposite side of a table that was a few feet from the school board's desk. Before resuming her own seat, she addressed the still-too-warm room.

"This is an interview with Mr Marc Taylor for the future open position of Superintendent of Public Schools, Lewistown School District Number One. Like all school board meetings, This is being recorded. There's a video camera at the back of the room facing the board, and one behind the board facing the room.

This file will be archived permanently and available to anyone wishing to watch it. The interview with another candidate, just prior to this one, was not open to the public. Nor was the interview yesterday with a third candidate.

For the sake of everyone here, I want to explain that policy is and always has been for interviews to happen with the school board alone; not the public at large. By a vote of three to two, it was determined for reasons not evident to me that this interview, unlike the previous two, should be conducted as part of an open school board meeting. This is prejudicial, unprofessional and without precedent. Still, this is how your school board can operate. At present.

Although the citizens of Lewistown were not allowed to participate in the previous interview, or if you'd rather to look at it as the citizens are allowed to participate in this interview, I can tell you who that candidate was, as well as other information about him."

Jon Black raised his voice in no uncertain terms.

"No, you CAN'T do that!"

"Jon Black, here is the charter for this school board. All rules and regulations applicable are in here. Also, here is Robert's Rules of Order (I told you so!). Please find in them where all candidates are not permitted to be made public by way of information about them. I'll save you the trouble: it's not in either."

"I object!"

"You're not in court, but you may object all day long. You wanted that interview private and this one public. I've no doubt there's some reason, perhaps a good one in your opinion, for that disparity. Still, I know I can find in the charter where a simple vote can bring a specific interview to the floor in a school board meeting. That vote has occurred. Three to two. With me so far, Mr Black?"

"Get on with it."

"As chairwoman of this board, I am doing just that, Mr Black."

Mrs Heusen stood with two large stacks of paper, one in each hand. She walked to the person closest to her and handed one stack. To the person furthest away, she handed the other stack. This time it was Mandy Blinken who found her voice.

"What's that? Have we seen whatever it is you got there?"

"You have, Ms Blinken."

"MRS Blinken."

"Oh. Of course. My apologies. Yes, you have seen these. One page is the resume of Mr Marc Taylor, admitted into public record. That, too, is in the charter. The other page is the resume of the most recent applicant, Tim Kinney of Anaconda, Montana. Take one and pass the rest to the person next to you, please."

Every person in the room attending the `interview' was enrapt with curiosity of what they saw printed on both pages. Jon Black was sounding displeased.

"How is passin' around those resumes any concern except for the school board?!"

"Well, that's a good question; certain members of the school board were insistent that two interviews are a concern for the school board alone, but this one is of vital importance for the entire community. Perhaps I should have asked you before, Jon; but is there any reason you don't want the taxpayers to see this information, particularly the resume of the just-prior candidate for the job?

Further, since this is an actual school board meeting with the taxpaying public in attendance, I will ask everyone in this room: who would rather not see both resumes for two of the three candidates? If you feel it is none of your business to have fair access to the candidates' information, please be so kind as to pass the pages in your possession back down to the board, and cast from your mind anything you saw printed on them. Mr Black or Mrs Blinken will be happy, I'm sure, to take them from you."

I put my head down slightly and covered my mouth with my hand to hide the huge grin on my face, and hopefully NOT convey the thoughts in my mind.....

Ah. Well, Mr Black; maybe you should've have `gone there' if you didn't want the journey to be round-trip.

I looked at Marc. Everyone was looking at Marc. THAT man in THAT suit had been the only sight in the room worth seeing, and now `the taxpayers' also had his resume. And, I presume, that of the man who walked out the door in the white shirt and black pants earlier.*

"We didn't talk about showing these resumes to everyone!"

"We can talk about it now, in this interview. As chairwoman of this school board, I'm not proceeding without as level a playing field as I can guarantee for the, as you say, `taxpayers' of Lewistown. Does everyone who wants one have a copy of both resumes? Ah. It appears so.

Well, let's proceed. The school board for Lewistown Public Schools District Number One calls this interview to order. Today we will consider the third of three candidates for the position of Superintendent of Public School. I welcome Mr Marc Taylor.

Please know, Mr Taylor, this is irregular, and I appreciate that you've agreed to join us to review your academic and leadership accomplishments, and how they might benefit the students and community of Lewistown, Montana.

Each member of the board will have the opportunity to ask you questions, one at a time, in rotation, about your resume. Questions may also be asked about other interests and goals you might have. If this is acceptable to you, will you please tell us about yourself for a few minutes?"

Marc looked at me. I saw the twinkle in his eye. I got a tear in mine, which I hoped he didn't see.

"Yes, Ma'am. May I stand so I can address everyone here?"

"By all means."

Marc stayed focused in his attention on the school board, but he moved only slightly so most people would see him not only in profile. He buttoned the jacket of his suit.

"Hi, I'm Marc Taylor. I am a candidate for the position of Superintendent of Lewistown Public Schools. I was born here. Twenty-nine years ago. My grandparents are Rod and Naomi Taylor, long-time, and until a few days ago, residents of Lewistown. Shortly after I was born, my parents relocated to Washington state. I grew up there, and received my Bachelor's Degree in American History at Seattle University.

An opportunity arose to study with a professor of American Colonial Imperialism, and attended graduate school at the University of Washington. I was a student teacher on campus for three years. A visiting professor from Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, attended a lecture I presented as part of my master's thesis. I was awarded that degree, specifically in American Expansion in Pacific Ocean Island-States, and soon after, was invited to work on a PhD, a Doctor of Philosophy, degree at Harvard.

The focus of that degree was the multiple countries that ruled Puerto Rico, up to and including the United States of America. Once awarded that degree, I was offered a teaching position in the Department Of History at Harvard University, a position I held until resigning recently to relocate to Lewistown.

I visited here initially in July to assist my grandparents in their relocation to New Mexico. It was during the early hours of being here that I found myself falling in love, though I didn't know that at the time; but definitely, I fell in `like'.

(Stop, Marc.....I'm gonna fuck this up for you if you don't stop.....)

I remembered none of my first life in Lewistown. My parents and I moved away when I was six weeks old. I can only assume my early experiences were just as good then as they are today, since every one of the hundreds of photographs my grandparents had of me showed a smiling, happy baby. Twenty-nine years later, I'm still smiling, and I'm still happy. And I have, indeed, fallen in both like' and love' since spending more time here.

(Sniff....I SAID STOP, MARC.)

My educational and career pursuits in academia surprised even myself, since my original intention was to become a member of either Pearl Jam or Nirvana. Having neither musical talent nor a strong desire to live on tour across the world, I was inspired by my grandmother, an educator here for almost sixty years, to look back in Time and find interest in the expansion pursuits of this country.

Curiosity took over, and in the following decade or so, I read dozens of books on history, and wrote three of my own. I remain fascinated with writing, particularly how six months of research are required to write several papers in order to use two verifiable references for one sentence.

While on staff at Harvard, I was the Dean's Assistant, and worked directly with her on administration within the Department of History. I expanded the use of a grading matrix that showed minute-by-minute student test results, as well as performance reviews of the faculty and staff. My own performance reviews have assured me, as well as my own professors and deans, that I paid attention with care in detail to my studies and publications.

My third book is in use in two History classes at Harvard, and the publisher indicated in recent communication the title is now offered to teachers at high schools across the nation, and being adopted steadily. That is, at once, thrilling and humbling. I will truly think so if it makes its way to this school district.

I appreciate the opportunity to submit my resume for your consideration, and for the time before the school board today. I welcome your questions."

Marc sat while unbuttoning his suit jacket. James Bond, you have no power here. Never heard of you. Go away.

Mom put her hand on mine and squeezed, smiling out of the side of her eye at me. My boy nudged my knee with his. Kelly sneezed and blew her nose.

Mrs Heusen smiled at Marc, also offering the same to each of the board members.

"Thank you, Mr Taylor. That is an amazing resume, and would be for anyone with twice your years. You are evidently determined and disciplined within you area of personal education and research. I'd like to ask you how you believe your work can benefit the children and community of Lewistown Public Schools."

"Thanks, Mrs Heusen. History is a subject of what was'. Everyone, in school or not, responds and reacts to the immediate history in their communities and their own lives. We learn from what was', and we apply ourselves to using that knowledge to what can be'. I believe a strong school district is one that focuses on not only what can be' for the students, but also on our obligation to leave them a future that's at least as strong as its history.

A leader brings together diverse talents to inspire kids to learn and grow as people, to think and find their voices to ask questions. Learning, in my opinion, is not `trickle-down' theory. The power is not at the top, in the hands of the superintendent and school board, then down to the principals, then down to the teachers and staff, and finally, then down to the students.

We are in the field of education to imbue the students with power; for everyone in a classroom to raise their hands to ask or answer questions. The role of superintendent is to clear all hurdles in a school district that are obstacles to any kid learning about the world they live in, and for some, the worlds we don't live in."

"Thank you, Mr Taylor. That's an interesting job description you just wrote, whether you realize it or not! And not just for this, but for many public school districts. Mr Black, do you have a question for Mr Taylor?"

"Yeah, sure do. Um-boo' and what was that other one? Macadamia'? Well, if nothing else, all those college degrees sure taught ya to talk fancy!"

"Actually, Mr Black, those were the English teachers in Junior High School. I've just managed to remember the vocabulary lists."

Mom and others laughed at Marc's response, but he stayed stoic and his eyes focused on Jon Black----who held up his hand when Mrs Heusen began to speak.

"Would you be willing to display your `leadership' by taking off that fancy suit and putting on a coach's uniform and helping kids learn something practical, like playing on a team?"

"No."

"No? You don't think sports are important to kids' development?"

"That's a different question. You asked if I would coach. No, I would not."

"Why not? Don't like sports? Sports are a big deal in this community."

"I like sports a lot. I think my favorite is boxing. Getting in a ring with an opponent who thinks he's stronger and faster than I am, but doesn't reach that same conclusion after I'm done having a little fun in front of the crowd.....well, that is something I like very much. If I may ask, though: what increase in salary is there for the superintendent of schools if they coach sports? Now I'm curious. Does the salary double?"

"Double'?! The position is already paid a lot by the taxpayers as it is. No, I'm seein' it as more of a voluntary, good-will' position. What we call in business a `value-add'."

"Ah. Understood. Thank you for making that clear to us. I mean, to me."

Mom and Kelly giggled, as did a few other people. Mrs Heusen worked to redirect the interview to the other board members.

"Thank you, Jon Black. Ms Corinne Delphine, do you have a question for Mr Taylor?"

"Yes, thank you, Madame Chairwoman. Mr Taylor, welcome. Are you comfortable? Would you like some water?"

Marc smiled and shook his head `no'.

"Ah, bon. Okay. Mr Taylor, Lewistown is a healthy community, and the citizens fund the school district generously. This town, though, is not growing in population, and several business locations have closed. The reasons for that are myriad----sorry, Jon; `many in quantity and aspects'----and place challenges on the tax base of current businesses and households from which to draw educational funding. As the superintendent of public schools in Lewistown, how would you address what could be reduced budgets due to reduced resources?"

"Thank you, Ms Delphine. That is a question that affects more and more, if not all, schools and administrations. Even at Harvard and the University of Washington, annual budget reviews did not include enhanced investment, unless a generous donor gave something specifically to our department. That happened only once while I was at either school.

I find it to be an administrator's worst nightmare: to eliminate a program or a teaching position, either directly or through attrition. Oh, `attrition' means to make reductions passively, like not replacing a teacher who announces retirement.

There is no easy solution for a lack of resources, and each situation would need to be addressed individually; I can say without hesitation, though, that under no circumstances would a paid staff member be expected to take on more responsibility without equal compensation. Not on my watch.

For one thing, it's unethical, and would lead quickly to more and more staff being expected to dilute their wages by working additional hours without more pay for doing so. We'd see good people under-bidding each other for lower and lower compensation, merely for keeping their jobs. For another, it's illegal. I've read the contract this school district has with both the Montana Education Association, as well as the National Education Association.

This school district and the teachers have not endured a labor strike since 1977, which for the sake of facts and evidential history, was not for more money----but safer working conditions, compromised by failing infrastructure. If teachers called for a strike because I was asking them to work longer hours for less pay, and particularly in an unsafe working environment, I'd be ashamed of myself. And that's nothing to say how my grandmother would feel about me."

Smatterings of chuckles through the room, and Marc finally smiled just a little.

"As regards the specifics of your question: If the only answer to strict budgetary constraints was to cut programs, then the school board, union representation and I would address that with gravity and regret. As long as no student was denied an education or an educator devalued, the board and I would work together to tighten other areas where we could until longer-term solutions could be found."

Corinne Delphine smiled and nodded once at Marc. Mademoiselle Delphine was no one's fool, and a teacher whom I knew from experience was a human bullshit detector. I watched more than one or two students have to get very creative to answer in French for not completing a homework assignment.

That she was now on the school board should've been reassuring to every parent in the district; she was obviously prepared to hold a superintendent responsible, as well. Tres bon et merci, Mme Delphine. Je vous aime, je pense; seulement un petit.

Mrs Heusen thanked Ms Delphine and moved on to Mandy Blinken.

"Mrs Blinken. It's your turn, I believe."

"Thanks. Marc....."

(MARC'??!' What happened to Mr Taylor'?!?)

".....It's interesting you focused on declining revenue as a funding source for the school district. As an independent business owner myself, I know the agony of sitting at a kitchen table, trying to find out how to rob Peter to pay Paul. It's not easy. And unlike a school, I can go to a bank and try to borrow money. A school district can't do that.

We have to work with what the over-taxed taxpayers will involuntarily share with us, robbing themselves and to pay for tenured teachers' salaries. Personally, I like the idea of teachers volunteering for sports and other after-school, wholesome activities. I guess that's something we'll have to work on, Mrs Heusen.

Anyway, moving on from the matter of money. I think there's another deficit we're dealing with in our school district, and that's the deficit of moral decency. Teachers and children both are being hit left and right, and entirely from the left, with books and funny ideas about kids and what they should be learning. Over the past year, several books have been the source of controversy, because suddenly, The Three Rs aren't good enough to teach kids during the eight hours a day we are responsible for their minds. What do you have to say about that?"

"Fascinating question, Ethel Ann.....I'd like....."

"THAT'S MANDY! Mrs MANDY Blinken!"

"Oh, I see. When I was reading the history of the school board, I dug deeper to see who the people were I might be working with. Who the children in the school district would be advocated by. Perhaps the State of Montana Secretary of State's office has incorrect information on your business licenses.

There's an Ethel Ann Blinken in Lewistown mentioned as the business partner' in MindDynamics Mind Control, AmeriGlam Cosmetics, PatriotAstics Pourable Plastic Garage Floors, and five others multi-level marketing.....um, programs'. So my apologies if there's a different Blinken, a Mandy Blinken, who is also `business partner' in those same enterprises. Maybe your grandmother or your mother-in-law?"

"Mrs Heusen, he's getting off track here....."

"Sorry, one moment, Mrs Blinken.....Mr Taylor, what was it called? MindDynamics Mind Control'? That's a pyramid scheme? I mean of course, a multi-level marketing business opportunity, did you say? Well, I'm certainly curious. Mrs Blinken, I agree, we should get back on track, but I'm fascinated with whatever involvement you have with MindDynamics Mind Control'. Perhaps we can discuss that another time. Anyway. Mr Taylor, you have an answer to Mrs Blinken's question?"

"I do. I'm happy to address that. First, if I may, I'd like to offer respectfully a slight correction on something you said. You said that unlike a business, a school district can't just go to a bank for a loan. That's precisely what school districts do, in the form of bonds. And the `bank' is the public. In my research, I found this school district has two bonds they're responsible for at present.

One, for ten million dollars, is to put new roofs on all the schools, provide better security measures, including video cameras both inside and outside the buildings, replace all the windows in the three elementary schools, and upgrade all technology infrastructure in all the schools.

The other bond is to install new kitchen equipment in the central kitchen for the school district's lunch program. That bond, while much smaller, is still six figures. Now as to the issue of controversial books.....that, too, has become a lightning rod for school districts across the country. I would say across the world, but since the issue first became apparent five or so years ago, I have researched the very matter and how it is addressed in other countries.

The contrasts are fascinating, and honestly, worthy of someone writing a book about an educational crisis here, in China, North Korea and Russia. Very curious company we keep in this regard. How the rest of the planet manages with books, I have no idea. Yet.

I'd like to ask, though: what are the book titles in the public schools in Lewistown that have worried you for, I think you said, three years? Whether in the job as superintendent or not, I'm certainly curious about which books are taking up valuable space that should go otherwise to only reading, writing and arithmetic."

"Well, I don't have that information here in front of me, but I'll get it, you can be certain of that! I want a superintendent who will protect the minds of children, not just open em up so wide that their little heads are like parachutes and take em all over the place where they don't need to be."

"I see. Perhaps your own children have commented on these book titles?"

"I don't have kids in these schools. When I do raise children, they will be home-schooled, that's for sure; unless this school board and a superintendent can clean these schools up."

"Interesting. If you'll be home-schooling your children, may I ask what compels you to act in an elected capacity on this school board? I ask, because the superintendent who is hired for this job will be working directly with both the board and the community. Someone who doesn't ascribe to the importance of a school board and the public schools in its district, yet holds influence over it and them, seems to me to be a cat among the pigeons."

I about shat a load of bricks when Marc said that. Holy moly. She admits she doesn't respect public schools, but is on their very school board? Did anyone else see that blatant irony and, quite frankly, abuse of power?

"Hey, who is in the interview here? You or me? I'm asking the questions, and you're the one answering them!"

Mrs Heusen raised her voice and the entire room was silent immediately.

"Mrs Blinken. You wanted this interview to be public. You got what you wanted. You said it was important that the public see exactly what they were getting for the money being paid to the successful candidate. I think it is entirely reasonable for Mr Taylor to get clarification on statements made by you, such as how a school district is funded, and what the books are that you find offensive.

In the previous interview, you and the candidate had back-and-forth questions, which focused curiously on him, like you, wanting to ban books, the titles of which neither of you knew. What we learned from that scintillating exchange and how that will benefit this school district remains to be seen, but for now, please have the same courtesy for Mr Taylor that you had for Mr Kinney. Would you like to follow that up with another question?"

"This is.....I'll reserve the right to ask one later."

"Duly noted: no additional question at this time from Mrs Blinken. Just so you know: this interview was scheduled for an hour. Ten minutes remain. Moving on. Mike MacWorter, we have not enjoyed a question for Mr Taylor from you yet. Are you prepared to ask anything?"

"So, um, yeah.....before I ask, I want to say something. Mr Taylor, thank you for being here. Thank you for your interest in the position of superintendent of Lewistown public schools. Reading a resume is one thing, but meeting and hearing the voice of the person whose words we see on this page.....well, talk about your `value-add', as Jon Black mentioned. The students in your classroom surely can't be bored there. Anyway.

We're here today to ask questions of and get to know a candidate for the position of Superintendent of Schools, about who is the right choice for this job. It's just that: choice. Mrs.....Blinken and Jon Black have used personal, local examples to illustrate creatively how to consider the choices before us. I think I'll use the same logic.

There's a McDonald's and a Burger King in town. Now there's a choice everyone here knows, too. On the menu of one is the Big Mac. On the other is the Whopper. For the most part, they look the same. They're both made of meat, ummm, one obviously more meat than the other, and other things. Each of them may, or may not, taste good to different folks; but what they both can do is bring energy, in this case, by way of calories, to a body as a whole.

Now let's assume Mr Kinney is the Big Mac, and Mr Taylor is the Whopper. Mandy, Jon and the rest of us on the board have to go to sleep tonight and try to decide who is the best for the school district, by deciding who we, ourselves, want. We are, like you said, Jon, all taxpayers here. Mr Kinney and Mr Taylor appeared here because we need to find the right choice, the right energy for the body of school district, the right energy for the body.

Mr Taylor's professional and academic careers are laudable. Um, they're `big deals'. Three university degrees in the study of American History, and three published books all about it. Incidentally, I found your books in the city library and read them, cover to cover. I have you to thank for giving my television a rest for three nights.

Mr Taylor is a PhD-awarded professor of History at Harvard University, the oldest university in the United States of America, and one of the top ten most respected on the planet. As well, he is in direct involvement with the dean of the Department of History in varied administrative responsibilities. Consider Mr Taylor to be on the menu at Burger King.

My co-member on this board, Jon Black, has mentioned Tim Kinney, another candidate. Also a college graduate at Montana State University, a teacher of physical education and health in the gym and classroom, and a seasonal sports coach, and we are happy to have him for consideration. No one in Lewistown, Montana, will underestimate the value of good leadership on the field. Tim Kinney is, at least for now, a Big Mac in big Anaconda, Montana. Perhaps soon to be here in little Lewistown, Montana.

Leadership is also needed in the classroom, the boardroom, the state legislature and wherever else advocacy of Lewistown Public School District Number One can be benefitted. All five of us on this board have a heavy choice to make, and we will. That's the big challenge we face. The challenge for my co-member Jon Black here is to decide if he wants to buy the Big Mac, or does he want to try to fit this Whopper in his mouth?"

The crowd laughed, although a few scowled at the analogy. Bill Krantz raised and slammed his palm on the table. The room was quiet instantly.

"Now THAT is a perfect comparison, and in simple terms the taxpayers and parents can understand! Thank you, Mike! And here I thought I had to worry about you being a team player! Like in any transaction of product or services in exchange of money, what's gonna get the best value? I think you hit that nail right on the head!"

The crowd laughed only louder at Jon Black missing the entire ironic point of Mike MacWorter's statement. I looked at Tommy. He had tears in his eyes, just like I did. Mom and Kelly were not even trying to hold back like their sons were.

Mrs Heusen spoke.

"Mr MacWorter, thank you for a creatively illustrated statement, the likes of which no one here will ever forget. However, it wasn't a question. Do you have one for Mr Taylor?"

"Oh. Geez. Sorry. I do. Mr Taylor, what can possibly compel you to give up a promising career in research, publishing and academia---um, I mean, education---at arguably---that means `almost'---the most recognized name in higher learning, to move and work here?"

"Mr MacWorter. Of all the questions I've been asked in the past almost-hour, that is the one I like the most. Thank you. Why would I want to move here and work with and for kids and their future? Why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't I, or anyone else, want to come to fertile land and fertile minds, and commit to a life helping both? You can't help one without helping the other. Especially here.

I loved my job teaching, because I loved the subject of History. Everything that is taught in any school is based on the history of observation. Of numbers in physics and mathematics; of a baby's first and all subsequent words in language; of the science lab results that showed how vaccines and other medicine can save and have saved millions of lives.

I believe with every fiber of my being that the next Amelia Earhart can be born and raised in Lewistown. The runner who will beat all of Jesse Owens' and Usain Bolt's records. Maybe most importantly, the farmer who will grow a field of Rye and a steer or two, who will change a life just by his mere existence and a desire to see an old road and the new road that'll take him and others farther and more safely. I want to be here to help any and all of those, and even more I can't yet quite imagine."

The applause was thunderous. Perhaps they shouldn't have joined in, but Mrs Heusen, Ms Delphine and Mr MacWorter were, indeed, applauding Marc and his answer. Most certainly for his suit, as well. Jon Black and Ethel Ann Blinken were as contradictory in their displeasure as a vegan at a bacon-eatin' contest.

Mrs Heusen motioned with her hand for the interview to continue.

"Our stated objective for this search is simple: to find a leader for the position of Superintendent of Lewistown Public Schools. Mr Taylor has been our third and final candidate. Most unusually, this interview was determined by a three-to-two vote to be open to the public. You've now seen one of the candidates and have heard what would've been discussed in a traditional interview, open to the school board alone. The public does not have a vote for a candidate. The public votes by way of electing school board members.

The vote for this position will still occur just between the five of us, and our votes will not be public. I want to remind everyone at this table: we all know the official rules of conduct, all to which we swore upon election to this board. That includes votes for business within the school board.

Revealing school board votes and other matters will result in immediate expulsion from the board, and complete disqualification from running for a board seat in future. We all knew this, and now we've all been reminded. Integrity is what we want in a candidate for Superintendent of Public Schools. We will provide no less of our own.

Finally, any additional questions from any board members, or perhaps Mr Taylor?"

No one raised a hand or said anything in response. I saw Marc looking at each on of them. It was clear which board members were in favor of Marc and which weren't. There were two who looked him directly in the eye. There were two who were not in favor of Marc, obvious by their crossed their arms and other body language as they scowled at the table where they sat.

The one who did neither of those sat between the two scowlers. He looked tired and worn out, and also did not look at Marc, but at the paper in front of him. After a moment of silence, Marc cleared his throat and looked at each member, right to left. Mrs Heusen, Ms Delphine, Mr Black, Mr MacWorter and Mrs Blinken. Marc took a deep breath and then looked at Mr B, who had the sullen appearance on his face of a traveler whose flight had been canceled three times in a row, and his anniversary was the following day.

"I have two things, if I may; I'll be brief. No questions from me. First, I want to thank everyone here for this interview. I can say honestly, I've not been in many open interviews in my life. This has been the only one, actually. It may or may not be the last. What you are wanting is, on the surface, all the right answers to your questions, for the benefit of determining who will administrate this school district.

As I saw and heard, though, the school board is not able to agree on the questions, and I don't envy you----or the candidates----what I'm sure will be a challenge in making that final determination. All that matters here, big concerns or small, are the big and small kids in the classrooms in this school district. All their needs must be met, because not too far in the future, they're going to be running this town, this county, maybe this state. We meet their needs now, and they'll meet our needs later when they're all grown up and civil servants or businesspeople, or even some reader and writer of History somewhere.

What you want is simple, but you're making this process convoluted and difficult. I know, and you all do from the lengthy cover letter I wrote along with my resume that I bring qualifications, skills and abilities that I've worked long and hard hours and years to get. I am willing to share those, particularly with the future of this city. It's my strong desire to share those. I correct myself, though: I was willing to share. Past tense.

There are complexities in how this school board functions that do not use to anyone's advantage my education, qualifications or skills and abilities. Recently I had a conversation with a very close family member about communication and how we both agreed it was the paramount concern for two people or five thousand. Only hours later, here I am, experiencing for myself what would be apparent in working among you, and it's the very antithesis of what my family member and I agreed was necessary for us: clear, open dialogue.

I can't imagine subjecting my family to this level of stress and frustration after a day of work in this capacity, and so, I won't. Please remove my name for consideration for the position of Superintendent of Lewistown Public Schools.

Good luck to you in selecting the next Superintendent of Lewistown Public Schools and best of luck to the kids in this school district, who if they succeed at Life will be in spite of this school board, and certainly not because of it. Thank you."

The room was silent for a few moments. It had sunk in with everyone present that Marc was, by his own decision, no longer the possible Superintendent of Schools for Lewistown, Montana. Jon Black snorted just a little and threw his hands in the air, speaking to no one and everyone.

"Well, if the guy doesn't think he can handle the job, who are we to argue?"

Mr B looked at the board with pure disdain on his face. He either forgot nearly 100 members of the community were in the room with them, or he was just waiting for this opportunity.

"`Handle the job'? Jon, this man is overqualified, and as I am not a voting member of this board----you already had my resignation----I'll tell you and everyone present. Marc Taylor is the only qualified and reliable candidate, not only of the pool who've interviewed here, but possibly in the entire state to lead this office, and it was in his hands I had hoped to leave this school district for the kids in this town.

No one here will ever again see anyone else like him, so get a good look at the opportunity you just denied our principals, teachers, staff and kids. Mr Taylor wished you luck in finding the right person for the job. I wish you luck in sleeping tonight."

Emil stood from desk beside Marc, who stood to join him. Neither was smiling. Emil reached for Marc's hand, who shook it. Marc stepped forward to shake a very disappointed Mrs Heusen's hand. The two men walked out the side door of the board room, Emil holding the door with one hand and the other on Marc's incredibly well-tailored shoulder.

Jon Black and Mandy Blinken uncrossed their arms and smirked, looking at each other with not-so-subtle satisfaction. What was the value-add', Jon Black, of this ridiculous farce? St Matthew, 16:26. What profit would there be for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?'

The formerly timid mouse who managed in the past hour to grow some balls was seated between them, and just looked forward with visible regret. The other two school board members just shook their heads a little bit and removed Marc's resume from the top of their piles. The choice was now down to Tim Kinney and Paul Carpenter. Regardless of which one got the job, it was the guy who didn't who was the lucky one.

`Mandy' Blinken suddenly raised her head---and her voice.

"Wait----what about my other question?! I want it on record!"

Mike MacWorter looked to his right at Ethel Ann.

"Mandy, Mr Taylor has withdrawn from consideration for the job. He just said that. What `other question' could possibly give us a second chance with him?"

Mom was so close to Mandy Blinken they could shake hands. Mom leaned a little closer to her, and spoke with a mock whisper.

"Northup Drug Store."

"What about it?"

"It's the answer to your question. You were going to ask where you could get birth control, right? Northup. Tell em Marie sent ya, and if necessary, have em put it on my bill. As much as you need, Ethel Ann."

Much of the room roared with laughter, including Mrs Heusen, Mike MacWorter and Corinne Delphine. Kelly Sanger was laughing so hard, she started coughing.

"Damn you, Marie! Don't do that to me when I have a full bladder and can't squeeze my knees together like I used to!!!"

The laughter didn't stop, but Mrs Heusen stood up and things quieted down enough for her to be heard when she spoke.

"That concludes this.....event. The next public school board meeting will be one month from today's date. If you have any questions or concerns in the meantime, don't hesitate to call or send emails to any or all of us on this school board.

I regret-----extremely regret-----that it took this `interview' to get one hundred people in to engage with your public school officials. I regret even more, if that's possible, that ninety-nine watched an entirely viable candidate turn us down. We didn't turn him down. Recognize and remember that.

Somewhere among you are, however, viable candidates for impending open positions on this school board. Dig deep into how this body works. What it is responsible for. Read the history and the representation contract and the bond sales. Talk with each other. Keep in mind a single detail. We exist for one reason only: because kids in Lewistown public schools exist. And then some of you, please; file your candidacy to sit here. Sooner is better than later."

A majority of people applauded Mrs Heusen, and I could see heads nodding in either agreement or approval. Maybe both.

A person whose voice I didn't recognize called out.

"When is the next school board election?"

"That information is on the website, along with the information on how to apply and be selected."

Another voice was very loud and quite clear:

"MARC TAYLOR, DID YOU HEAR THAT?!"

Dozens of people cheered and clapped. Tommy showed me his phone. The terms of office for Mandy Blinken, Jon Black and Corinne Delphine were coming to an end in February, but a couple of them were probably looking at a recall election well before then. Mademoiselle Delphine could, if she wanted, run for a second term. Her first run for office was won by thousands of votes. Mandy Blinken and Jon Black could run for a second term each, if they wanted to lift the lid on their toilets and just flush their money down the drain.

Dan Gremaux was smiling ear to ear as he opened the door to the hallway. Not smiling, I was feeling certain, that Marc didn't get the job; but because Marc got the last word in a grossly imbalanced battle with bullies. He tended to do that, and Dan was present for both instances. Heh.....Dan wants to deputize Marc, once Officer Gremaux becomes Sheriff Gremaux. Sigh.....my man in a suit or my man in a uniform. Some men, beautiful without clothes on, were certainly born to wear `em. One man, at least.

Before anyone left the room, the voice that asked when the next school board elections would be held addressed Mrs Heusen. Oh, my gosh. Shanna's mom. What now.....and was Shanna here. And did she see Marc in his suit.....

"Mrs Heusen, that was the interview. There are seven minutes left before the meeting's hour is up. Is this open public comment now?"

"The chair recognizes you, if you live in the Lewistown City Limits."

"I do. Sheila Gagnon. 1225 Quartzite, Bonanza Addition. Born here, PAID TAXES, Jon, since I was eighteen years old. I own a business, too. Full-time CPA and part-time concessionaire at the fairgrounds. I rent the space beneath the grandstand.

Two things for two members of the school board. First: Jon, it has been brought to our attention that you've had a no-contest contract for the maintenance on the groundskeeping equipment. You alone have handled and approved contracts on this board for amounts below $50,000.00 per year. Yours is for $35,000.00.

I have not seen any notice for bid for that service for three years. Since this is a public school board meeting as well as an interview, it's the perfect opportunity for `the taxpayers' of Lewistown to know that contract was up for bid last month and was renewed the same day by----and for----you, Jon Black.

Second thing: Ethel Ann----Mandy, whatever----Blinken; It last week in speaking with the former county surveyor, Rod Taylor, that as of June, you own and live in property in Moore, Montana. You have no residence in Lewistown, where the school district is for the very board on which you now serve.

I sent a letter to you to your Moore address. Return receipt requested and certified. You signed for it. You are in the Moore public school district, Ethel Ann; not Lewistown's. Mrs Heusen, please consider reviewing the rules, regulations and by-laws for members of the Lewistown Public Schools School Board----particularly the part making clear the residence requirements for members."

Both Jon and Ethel Ann began screaming and shouting. At no point did they say the information was wrong; they just wanted it to not be said, or to be shouted over. Mike MacWorter stood and backed up from his seat so fast, it fell over behind him. The look on his face was of shock and betrayal. I can only imagine the thought in his mind, that he was, for awhile, in the camp of Jon & Ethel Ann. Can't get out of there fast enough, I'm sure.

Mrs Heusen just raised an eyebrow and rested her head on her forefinger, looking with daggers at both offending members of the school board. Mademoiselle Delphine was laughing, but to be fair, she was trying to hide it. Nah, she wasn't really trying.

Eventually the shouting, finger-pointing and screaming died down because Dan Gremaux shouted at the top of his lungs for peace and order. Sheila Gagnon, no shrinking violet in that room, still had two minutes left, apparently.

"One of these school board members is, if her address out of town is true, disqualified as of a few months ago to hold office. As a tax-paying school district citizen, I want to know how this intentionally misleading and deceitful conduct----that means `pants on fire'-acting, Jon----will be addressed and remedied.

I may also just go visit the city attorney and ask if, because maybe I'm wrong here, someone who practices potentially felonious public malfeasance with a self-administered and accepted business contract can also hold a seat on the school board. And damnit, if those or any other words heard here today are a problem for anyone, go get a damned dictionary from classroom in this school district. My damned taxes paid for them!"

More applause. Mrs Heusen stood, smoothed back her short, brown and gray hair and closed the school board meeting and interview circus. As much as I was ready for this to end, I also couldn't get enough.

Mrs Heusen, Corinne Delphine and Mike MacWorter stood together talking, very likely unnerved by the hour itself, if not the entire preceding week, and Sheila Gagnon's publicly-addressed bad behavior of the board itself. Jon and Ethel Ann, though? Both in a red-faced rage and one in tears. Poor Jon. It's a good thing he wasn't wearing mascara.

There were three pairs of big double doors leading out of the school administration building. 93 people poured out of them, reacting in their own ways to the `interview' and meeting. The comments I heard behind me were of scorn and indignation. A lot were of laughter. I recognized quite a few commenting on the district losing Marc before he even was sworn in. They wondered what he would do in Lewistown, if he stayed. Two people were in strong agreement that there were two school board seats that were about to go wide open, and they hoped Marc would run for that office.

I loved the idea, of course; but the issue of residency had already been raised once for Ethel Ann (I will never get tired of `Ethel Ann'). I couldn't see Marc, quite honestly, spending too much time in residence in his house in town. Not if I had any influence on the matter. I wanted him with me on the farm, but that was, again, my selfish conceit. Marc maybe gave up Harvard, maybe he gave up the school board job, but I damned well wasn't going to expect him to maybe give up incredible house he just bought, too.

Because the school had no parking lot of its own, people parked on streets surrounding the property. It was 4:45PM, and the weather was a lot more pleasant outside than it had been inside.

A few people came to say hi to Mom, and to laugh again at her comment to Ethel Ann Blinken. Both Mom and Dad were quick-witted, and I grew up listening to them say things that were more original, funnier and with better delivery than most comedians in a spotlight. Their humor was a sword employed against stale and stagnant family gatherings or even just boredom with world malaise. That sword had another edge, though.....and it could cut lethally. I'll tell ya about that sometime.

For now, a steady stream of vehicles drove toward Main Street, turning left or right to head to whatever was next. Mom unlocked her rig. Kelly and Tommy both gave me a hug, which I loved. What they spoke in those hugs was choirs of angels singing love and support. They got in the Expedition and Mom took her turn enveloping me in a hug.

"Jozef, I thought I was gonna lose it when Marc talked about all the good that comes of people in Fergus County. That was the sweetest thing I have ever heard anyone say to anyone else, and I was married to the king of sweet sayings, for over thirty years. You are the luckiest, most blessed man in the entire state. Love for you was declared for all ears to hear, whether they realized it or not."

"YOU were gonna lose it?! I AM losing it! Just tryin' to keep it together for awhile. Um, I'm not gonna ride back with you. I'll wait and ride with Marc. Might be we don't make it home tonight, though. I don't know what anything is gonna be like for him after that circus sideshow in there."

"You're both surely hungry. Come home if you want; I'll fry a chicken or something. Hell, I don't know what I'll do, but whatever it is, I'll feed my boys. See you when I see you, I guess."

"I'll send you a text. Damn.....I'm just realizing; I haven't seen Sebby or Lola Cola and the kids since we've been back....."

"They miss you, too; and all of you can miss each other for another night apart. Bye, Hon. I'd say, tell Marc hi', but all of a sudden that sounds stupid. Should more be, I humble myself before greatness', because he is a great man. He's YOUR great man."

"Yeah.....that he is....."

"But Jeffrey.....you're HIS great man. Marc wouldn't have stuck around here just so he could turn down a job working with school board idiots. Well, two of `em, anyway. He stuck around for his Great Man."

"Bye, Mom. I'll contact you, regardless what we do."

"NO, not regardless! I don't want to know anything about what you boys get up to except two things: you're staying in town or you're coming home!"

"HAHAHAHA!!!!! Yeah, well, I can't argue that! Okay!"

Mom got in her rig and the three of them drove off, windows down and arms waving back at me. I turned to see a few other people waving, just being friendly and Fergus-y. I waved back. Soon enough, it was just me leaning against my truck, watching the Sun cast a slowly-moving shadow of the street sign on the pavement.

The school was surrounded by lilacs, and walking or driving past was a common pleasure. They were decades old, now well over one hundred years old, planted when the original Lincoln Elementary School stood where the playground of this school was. That was back in the strangest of times, when farmers and ranchers would come to town in the evenings and sit in those classrooms, making up for the time lost to farming and ranching, their educations not completed past the eighth grade.

Marc spoke this afternoon of not expecting more of an educator than what they already were obligated to doing, but in those very early homesteading days in Fergus County, some teachers would work sixteen hours a day teaching kids in the daytime and by night, some of those kids' parents who might be late, but better late than never, learning to read, write and tame numbers.

I turned when I heard the school door close. Marc and Mr B walked toward their vehicles, parked across the street and in the next block up; right around 7th Avenue and Janeaux Street, where the next sheriff's department and county jail building was put up a few years back. Neither man was smiling, but they were talking about something. I doubted it would be a discussion on the health insurance benefits offered to school district employees.

When they got to where I was standing, Mr B just smiled grimly and nodded at me. He said nothing to me, and nothing to Marc. Mr B reached for Marc's hand. They shook and held it for a moment or two, and then Mr B got in his vehicle and drove off.

Marc turned to look at me. I expected to see sadness or regret in his eyes. None of either. Surely I was mistaken.

"Hi, Babe."

"Boyfriend."

"Still like me?"

"And still love you."

"Hungry?"

"Yeah, kinda. Kinda famished."

"Nothin' in the town house fridge. I'm still afraid of meeting people at the grocery store."

"Marc, I've watched you at the fairgrounds and in the school board meeting room. You're many things, but afraid' isn't one of em."

"Awwww.....listen to you."

"I'd rather listen to you, Marc."

"Farm W?"

"Actually, Mom and Aleksy and Eva will be all over you, and not just for that suit----though who could blame them? I already talked with Mom and told her we'd probably stay in town tonight."

"So.....I like that plan. Good call on your part, Jozef. Dinner out? Pizza? Dash-Inn?"

"Those will work. Just not Burger King."

"No?"

"That's not the Whopper I want in my mouth."

"Oh, my gosh.....! That was so funny! I wanted to laugh right then!"

"All the rest of us made up for you, Marc. How's this: I'll call Snuffy's and order two fried chicken dinners with the works, plus a root beer and a 7-Up. We can take a backroads ride up Warm Spring Creek to the state fish hatchery, sit on the tailgate and talk about whatever is on your mind. Stop by the house and change your clothes first, of course."

"I like all of that. Doubt that chicken will be as good as Marie's, but I'll struggle through. Funny thing about this suit, isn't it? I paid a thousand dollars for a suit to wear to a job interview, and then turned down the job. When am I gonna wear it again? Perry can never know! He'll be pissed off!"

"Phyllis, too, Boyfriend. It'll be our secret. This is some suit, though. For the one hour that you wore it, that suit earned you back twice in admiration and approval for every dollar you spent. You were beautiful. No one will forget either the suit or the man that got away."

"Sing it, Judy!"

"I'm not THAT gay."

"Ha! The heck you're not! What was her last concert?"

"Copenhagen. DAMNIT! You tricked me!"

"Wasn't hard to do! Come on; let's go to the other `our home' and I'll get out of this and into normal-guy garb so we can go eat chicken and watch fishies."

Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell. I pulled Marc into a hug and held onto him. Didn't talk, didn't cry, didn't laugh. Just hugged him and loved him, right at 7th Avenue and Janeaux Street. We jumped when a state trooper cruiser drove up beside us, lights flashing. Dan got on his microphone, because why stop at just a little public humiliation?

"STEP AWAY FROM THE SUIT! YOU WILL BE ARRESTED IF YOU WRINKLE THAT SUIT!"

Marc and I laughed, and Dan winked and bleeped his siren, and continued driving toward Main Street to get back on Highway 200. We got in my truck, me driving the eight blocks away and Marc sitting with the suit jacket across this thighs. We drove down Main Street, and more people waved from the street or honked to get our attention. That felt----incredible. We were just `those guys', I guessed. That'll work.

Once Marc got changed and we drove to the east-assed-end', as my grandpa called it, where Snuffy's stood. The Little A-Frame That Could---And Did'. The best prime rib in a hundred mile radius, chicken that was fried in lard---just like god intended, and beans and cole slaw all made right there, every day.

We got the food, drove like hell to get to the hatchery before anything got cold, and pulled up beside the rainbow trout runs. Those, too, were now over one hundred years old; the concrete withering and in need of replacement. For a state park, it was probably the best one I'd ever been to. Maybe because very few others went there. Suck it, Yellowstone; this was fifteen minutes from home, and never a crowd.

We ate first, agreeing that in order for our voices to be heard, our stomachs had to be silenced. Soon they were. The Sun was now behind the mountain, and the air chilled quickly. It would still be awhile before the crickets began chirping and the mosquitos landed for an all-you-can-eat buffet.

We licked our fingers for the hundredth time each and collected the trash together. The tailgate will go down in American history as the best seat, anywhere. And if ya get a little sleepy? A perfect bed was only inches away, with the perfect chest was the perfect pillow.

Part 5

Marc moved to hold my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. I didn't know why, but I felt like I was on a first date with him. It seemed we were both nervous, just a little bit.

"Jozef....."

"Hi, Boyfriend."

"Hi. So. About today....."

"All of it, or just specific moments between waking up, driving 150 miles, the rest of the afternoon and now?"

"Was all that in one day? Damn. I guess it was. Time really does fly. So does that truck, up a hill and towing stuff at 70 miles per hour."

"I was there! I know!"

"Babe, I owe you an explanation, or at least an answer. I told you you'd get one after 4:30PM."

"Yeah, you did, Marc; but I'm feeling generous, now that I'm full from dinner. If you want to sleep on all this, we can talk tomorrow. I guess what I mean is, just because we put a specific timeframe on a conversation doesn't mean we need to adhere to it. Oh....I'm glad Jon Black isn't around; we'd have to define `adhere'....."

"Okay, THAT was funny; THEN was funny, too. Anyway, nah, we should talk now and then sleep on the conversation. Hey, what time is it?"

"It's 6:00PM."

"Okay, thanks. I left my phone in the truck cab. Anyway. You were fairly concerned a few times, wondering if I had a `Plan B', if I didn't get the job with the school board."

"Yeah, admittedly. Probably made me seem like a real control freak, as if you hadn't already thought for yourself if you should something else in mind. And yeah, I was wonderin' that during the time I was having my own `let's get out of town and have a crisis' moment.

And you were right---the difference between 99% and 100% was pretty huge. I'm sure that's why I kept asking you. Like I was convinced that at some point you'd say, `If I don't get the job, I'm outta here, going back to Harvard'."

"Hmmm.....you know, that's pretty much what I thought was going on. So, we know I didn't get the job....."

"We know they----and the schools in Lewistown----didn't get you. When Mike MacWorter was talking with you, I was suddenly not quite as worried. It seemed like he was actually warning you what it'd be like to deal with the school board. I thought for sure he was in league with Satan and Satana."

"Emil told me those two got a hold of Mike MacWorter and bullied him. I have no idea what they used for bait or to threaten him with, but sometime in the hour, he went back to his first alliance with Mrs Heusen and Ms Delphin."

"I wonder if my mother had anything to do with that....."

"Uh-oh.....I mention bait' or threats', and you think of your mom?"

"No, not exactly, Marc. Not entirely. She has been tight with Mrs Heusen and Ms Delphine for years, and at some fundraiser we had at the farm for the Speech and Drama kids, Mr MacWorter seemed to just flow right in with the other three. Mom is big on doing what's right, though. I don't think she would use undue influence on a school board member, even if her baby's boyfriend's career was at stake."

"I'd hope not. Sincerely. That would be a serious burden on both Mike MacWorter and me. Anyway, not an issue now. So back to we know I didn't get the job'. Or we can say, we know I won't be the next superintendent of schools'."

"Yeah, that was made abundantly clear, Boyfriend. I could not have guessed you would ever do that."

"Could you have guessed the school board would be so chaotic?"

"Nope. Poor Mrs Heusen. Marc, She has been on the school board since your grandmother was still teaching, even if just substituting. Oh.....oh, damn. Your grandparents. I think this will make them very sad."

"It won't. I've given them much worse to be sad about. And yeah, we'll go into that soon. Not today. First, we gotta get you and your question answered. That is.....if you still want to know what my `Plan B' is."

"Marc, you can have all the plans from B to Z, and as long as none of `em are you leaving me or our home, I'll be fine if you tell me you're gonna just kick back, listen to old jazz music on that old radio and smoke a pipe, and write another book."

I looked at Marc with a smile on my face, hoping he'd see that yeah, I was interested in what he was going to do next, but also that I'd smile and be happy while he did it.

Marc wasn't smiling.

Uh-oh. Was the chicken dinner not agreeing him? That was not any look I was comfortable with, because I hadn't seen it before. I couldn't read it. Oh, no.....what did I say?!

"How.....please tell me why you just said that."

"Because.....that's all the old radio has ever played? Your grandfather left you his pipe collection? Your grandmother left you hers?"

"No. The.....last part."

"I said.....what did I say.....oh, that you were going to kick write another book."

"Did I tell you that in my sleep?"

"Probably, but I don't interpret `Snore-ese' very well. Wait----is that what you're going to do? Write another book?"

"Well....."

"Marc! Seriously! My gosh! You are? Really?"

"I am. At least, that's what my publisher and literary agent tell me I'm going to do. I got a message yesterday, before we went from the hotel to Phyllis' diner. Then, while you were downstairs, I called Bozco---he's my agent---after returning Emil's call. Turns out my third book, the one that seems to be getting read all of a sudden, is also being bought.

Bought a lot. Harvard Press contacted him and wants me to write a series. At least two more books, and not written strictly for academia. For general publication. Although the publisher is focusing on the classroom for it, first and foremost."

"Marc! That's incredible! Amazing and incredible! Heck, I was just guessing."

"THAT is what's incredible and amazing, Babe. Or it would be, if anyone else had thought of it."

"Hey, now!"

"No, what I mean is, Jozef, because you're already incredible and amazing, you thought of something logical that I could end up doing. My `Plan B'."

"I did? I did! Wow. This is.....surreal, Marc. You know, I remember thinking before we went to breakfast that you had some look on your face I couldn't quite read. I think most guys would've been trippin' about the immediate future, but no, not you; your mind was on the past, literally, literarily and figuratively. You had a book deal dangled before your eyes."

"That's ONE of the things dangling before my eyes on our little trip to the big city. But before we go there.....and I WANT to go there.....I just wanted to tell you why I'm not sad about the school district job."

"This is....."

"Surreal?"

"SO surreal, Boyfriend. Mom is gonna flip her wig. Aleksy, too."

"How do you think the horses will take the news? And the Bernese Beasts?"

"Oh, I don't even wanna THINK about THEIR reactions.....I shudder to imagine!"

We laughed and squeezed our hands more tightly together. What the heck did I have to be worried about? This man---this great man, who was my great man---wasn't worried about his future. Who the heck was I to worry for him? Or about him? Ugh. SO much work to still do.....and I have only seventy years to get it done, at least if I want to land in Suite 2021 with my Great Man someday.

"Babe, there's a lot more to discuss, but for now, I want to assure you I'm fine. Everything is fine. WE are fine. I mean that one most of all."

"I believe you, Boyfriend. So you're not disappointed about the job?"

"I'm very disappointed, but I meant what I said in there: that school board is, to coin a very erudite phrase, all fucked up, and I'm not going to work in that stress and then bring it home to you. You should've heard Emil in his office after the interview was over. He was so pissed off. Well, he was, until I told him about the book thing."

"`The book thing', he says. So Mr B approves?"

"And then some. There's nothing he or I can do about the future of the school district. I didn't meet the other two candidates, but Emil says if Mike MacWorter can be counted on to actually vote the way he spoke when I was in there, then both candidates can be rejected by a majority vote if necessary, and they're back to the drawing board. Regardless, not my problem."

"Maybe not, but it's my problem, Marc."

"What do you mean?"

"I want a school district that's ready for my kids so my kids will be ready for the World. It probably takes years to build a solid administration office. Just like it takes years to grow a good crop. Doesn't happen just because you have some water and soil and a seed or two. Everything is about nurturing Nature. Anyway. Yeah, so it's not really `my problem', or at least not right now, but it's important to me."

"I can see that. I didn't mean to be dismissive, Babe."

"I'm just a little sensitive. I get that way when I eat half of a chicken and hold hands with the guy who ate the other half. This isn't about me or what's best years from now; this is about you and what's best right now. You made that call today, and I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thanks, Babe. I'm happy for another reason, actually. Maybe several."

"Start with one; I like already the reasons you're happy."

"Through the Wonders and Magic of Science and Technology, I have a laptop and you have a wifi network at the farm."

"Ooohhh.....I think I like where this is going....."

"And those two things can work very well together, while you and I are together, working well at the things we seem to be good at. If that makes any sense."

"All the sense in the world!"

"Oh----Emil wants to be my research assistant. Can you believe that?"

"I can believe anything."

"Believe this....."

Marc turned to face me even more than we already were, and leaned in to kiss me. Just a brief kiss. Something to keep the mosquitos at bay for a moment, although they were making their collective presence uncomfortably known. It was time to get back to town anyway. I had been away from the farm for three days, and I missed my `awake at 4:30AM' lifestyle. I missed my mom and brother, the critters, the wind that was sometimes a gale and sometimes a breeze, but always bringing something new and fresh to my farm.

I was missing thinking about my own future, my own academic pursuits, my own whatever else I was missing. I used to obsess about myself. I was young. It's all any of us thought about. In one swift moment, one Sunday, I was made aware in no uncertain terms: you can plan for anything, hope for everything; but you should resolve to keep planning and hoping, just in case anything and everything happen all at once. Which they did. And there I was.

Marc and I enjoyed a few more moments of the closing evening at the fish hatchery and decided to get back into town.

"Jozef. I'm thinkin' here, so just go with me on this. You are kind and consistent in being insistent that I'm one of your family. I love being included, and yeah, I feel like I'm one of you. I'm just feeling that it's not fair to not be with the entire family this evening. It just seems kind of.....too separate.....for me. I'd rather go to the farm home, if you're all right with that."

"Am I all right with that?! Are you kidding?! It's PERFECT! Siri, call Mom!"

"Jeffrey, what on Earth are you doing calling me? Everything okay?"

"Everything's just perfect! You have no idea! But you should! Is Aleksy there? Eva, too?"

"We're all here in the Jacuzzi, listening to crickets, a lonely steer call his human, and the kind of unnerving licks of a Mama Dog and an Uncle Cat on twelve unnaturally fast-and-large-growing puppies."

Well, don't everyone go to bed yet. We're on our way out. Lots to tell! Anyone need anything from town?"

Mom laughed and assured me they weren't even close to retiring for the evening, and would wait for Marc and me. She wanted to cook something, or at least have something for us to eat, but I told her we'd eaten already.

Marc wanted to be with his family. Our family. He might be sharing his news about the book series, or he might just want to be back in a safe, quiet and less `encountery' space with people who already knew his resume and were just fine with him being there not in a thousand-dollar suit. It had been a long, long day, and I wanted to cuddle close with Marc in that new bed, just my head on his chest or his on mine, fall asleep and wake up before the Sun and get back to work.

Marc yawned as I piloted us up and across Highway 200. We were both tired, but were it a contest, I would lose to Marc. He had an emotional and mental roller coaster ride inside the school board's meeting room. I was riding right along with him, but it wasn't the same. He was the one with his hands in the air, screaming his handsome head off. I was holding on for dear life. We were definitely on the track, but what was coming around the next bend?

Sigh. Let go, Jozef Pavel Wojtowicz. Just put your hands up, scream your head off, laugh with your man and ride with him for seventy or as many years close to them as you can. You don't have anything better to do, so buckle up, Kiddo.

(It's okay if I say it, but don't tell the others I did.....)