Nudist Camp Vacation

Dedication:

There is one person in particular who has written to me and touched my heart. In his youth, he suffered from abuse much like Stevey did in this story. It is to Rick B. that I dedicate this story.

To NCV fans:

I got a little carried away with this chapter. It's a lot longer than I usually write. You should know that many of the things I've written about have been from personal experience and some are products of extensive research. When I began writing this story, I intended it to be a nice, entertaining story. It quickly evolved into much more. The topics depicted in this story need to be discussed. While some aren't very pretty, these are issues that happen every day.

As always, I'll be very interested to know your thoughts after you read this chapter. You can write to me at: kenlou16@yahoo.com. Please be patient if my reply to your email is slow getting to you.

Thanks and HUGS! - Ken

Nudist Camp Vacation CHAPTER 29

The more I thought about it, the more I became annoyed with this jerk. I had nothing to hide, so I had nothing to fear from him. In an effort to let him know I was not intimidated, I said, "Why don't you just get to the point?" I'm sure the irritation in my voice was quite obvious.

"Now, Alan! Calm down until you hear what I have to say!"

"That's another thing! You don't know much about me if you're calling me Alan!' My FRIENDS call me Alan.' YOU may call me `MISTER STEWART!'"

By this time, Stevey and Paul were staring at me, transfixed. When I noticed, I smiled at them and winked to put them at ease. Stevey whispered something in Paul's ear and they both smiled at me.

"All right then, Mister Stewart! The reason I called you is this: I'm an agent for a very large gaming company that would like to buy your company!" He said that as if it would be welcome news. It wasn't.

In my coldest tone, I said, "I have no interest in selling. Good-bye, Mister O'Connell!" Before he could respond, I hung up on him. I smiled at the boys, who were giggling, then glanced at my watch. I waved my finger with the seconds and right on cue, my cell phone rang. I let it ring twice then answered it.

"Yes, Mister O'Connell, what is it?" I said, curtly.

"Mister Stewart! I'm authorized to make you a very generous offer!"

"My father started my company, and my friends and I built it into a very successful company. It is NOT for sale! I said I'm not interested! Good-bye, Mister O'Connell!" I hung up again.

In business negotiations, I love making people squirm, especially people like this jerk. If he called back again, I would know just how desperate he was. However, that would be when I let him know EXACTLY how disinterested I was in selling. On the other hand, in the back of my mind I know that everything in life is negotiable and everyone and everything has a price. I began testing alternative scenarios in my mind as I looked at the boys again. They were looking at me, expectantly, big smiles on their faces. I winked at them, again.

"This guy wants to buy my company. He doesn't know yet just how determined I am not to sell it!" Just as I finished, my cell phone rang again!

I raised my eyebrows at the boys, again, and set the phone down, leaving it unanswered. After four rings, it rolled to voicemail. I waited a couple of minutes and was about to pick it up to dial my voicemail, when it rang AGAIN!

I said to the boys, "This guy is REALLY desperate!" I looked at the caller I.D. It was him again alright! After the third ring, I answered it. In my rudest tone, I said, "Apparently, you didn't hear me! What part of `NO!' don't you understand?"

"Mr. Stewart! Mr. Stewart! Please! Don't hang up! The company I represent is very serious! They've tried to hire away some of your key people, but they wouldn't even consider the very generous packages that were offered to them! Something about loyalty, I think. But, my company NEEDS your company!"

I allowed a pregnant pause. "First, MISTER O'Connell, I don't appreciate anyone trying to pirate my employees! Second, there are a good many reasons for the loyalty I've nurtured! Third, if the company you represent needs what my company does so badly, they can hire us under contract! After all, that IS what we DO! Now, who do you represent?"

I could almost hear him sweat! "Mr. Stewart, please! I've been sworn to secrecy. I can't tell you who they are until we come to terms. Please don't hang up. They want to offer you more than your wildest dreams!"

"You can tell the people you represent that one of the reasons my employees are loyal to me is that I'm loyal to them, and they know it. Also, you can tell them for me that I DON'T deal with agents and middle men! Mister O'Connell . . . DON'T call me AGAIN!"

When I hung up on him, he was sputtering. That felt AWFULLY good! I dropped the phone into the cup holder in the console and looked at the faces of the boys. I couldn't help laughing at them. They appeared to be in awe!

Stevey stammered, "A-Alan! Does someone want to buy your company?"

I was still chuckling as I said, "Yes, that's the general idea. I've had offers in the past, but none were as flakey as this one."

As we climbed the driveway up the hill to the house, no less than six camouflaged men jumped out of hiding, each pointing what looked like a cannon at us! Someone whistled shrilly and they all dropped their weapons, pointing them at the ground.

"Wow!" Stevey exclaimed.

"My sentiments, exactly! I'm glad they're on OUR side!"

I drove straight into the garage, when the door was fully open, then I punched the door remote again and closed us inside. For some reason, I was feeling just a little paranoid. But while we were within the protection of my own little army, I felt just a little better.

As I was climbing out of the Suburban, my cell phone rang, reminding me that I'd forgotten it. I reached back, picked it up and looked at the number. It wasn't the jerk's number. As a matter of fact, I didn't recognize it at all. It was from area code 702. Who would be calling me from Nevada? After a short debate, and two more rings, I answered it.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Stewart? My name is Mark. I'm Executive Vice President of Operations for, let's just say, a very large gaming company. Please accept my apologies for the way Clarence O'Connell spoke to you. I just fired him."

"Good, . . . and I'll accept your apology. He was rather rude."

"Yes, he told me. I'd like to meet with you, myself, if we can arrange it. Do you have any time free tomorrow?"

"If this concerns your proposed purchase of my company, then the answer is, `No.' If you'd like to HIRE my company, then I can meet with you at ten o'clock to discuss it."

He chuckled. "Let's meet at ten o'clock and discuss our options. Alright?"

"Hmm. I suppose that's fair. Ten o'clock, then? Where?"

"Can we meet in your office? I don't have an office there and I'll be flying in."

"Yes, that would be fine. Do you need directions?"

"No, that's all right. I'll let my driver find your office. I'll see you at ten."

"Right." I waited until he hung up before I hung up myself.

This entire thing sounds quite odd. First, a jerk of a go-between calls and insults me, then I get a call from someone who sounds like he could charm the ruby slippers from Dorothy's feet, right in front of the Wicked Witch of the West. He's flying, I'm guessing, in his corporate jet, and "his driver" will bring him to my office. Needless to say, I'm intrigued.

As I was thinking and looking at my cell phone, I had the eerie feeling I was being watched. Turning to my side, two pairs of curious eyes were asking me to tell them what was going on. I chuckled at them, but speed-dialed Lucy.

"Alan! How are you doing? Resting, I hope!"

I sighed. "I wish I could say I was. Listen, I've got a ten o'clock meeting in the morning with a guy named Mark. Could you give my office a going over? Just sanitize it a bit, you know, hide the important stuff? Oh, and have coffee and snacks ready? It could be an interesting meeting. I'll call Bill and let him know, too."

"Alan! That is NOT resting!"

"I know," I whined, "but it's important."

She sighed. "Boss, what AM I going to do with you?"

I chuckled. "I imagine you'll think of something. You always do."

She laughed then asked. "So, you're only coming in for this one meeting? You'll go directly home, afterward?" I noticed she avoided the word, "straight."

"Yes, ma'am! I promise!"

"Okay, then. I guess it'll be all right."

I chuckled. "It's nice to have people looking after me."

"We HAVE to! YOU don't!"

"Okay, you got me. I'll see you tomorrow." I hung up and speed dialed Bill, glancing again at the inquisitive stares of my boys. Did I say, "my boys?" I was thinking about how good that sounded when Bill answered his phone.

"Alan! What the Sam Hill is going on?"

I chuckled. "We've got a meeting at ten in the morning. A guy named Mark, no last name, is flying in from who-knows-where, maybe Nevada, to meet with me. I want you there, too. We'll meet in my office. I want you to find out what gaming company has a `Mark' as Vice President of Operations."

I heard typing in the background. "What about this Clarence guy?"

I smiled, wickedly. "He's been fired. He was a middle man. When I spoke with him he pissed me off more than I can say. He's a freaking jerk, to say the very least."

"You can say . . . Holy shit!"

"I can say, what?"

"Sorry! I just opened the website of a," he cleared his throat, "a `very large' gaming company, and found him. Alan, you ARE NOT going to believe this!" He told me the name of the company.

After a respectful pause, I said, "You're right, I don't believe it." I thought a moment then said, "Bill, I just gave you five percent of the company."

There was a long silence on the line. "Bill? Are you there?"

He cleared his throat. "Alan? Alan Stewart? Geoffrey Alan Stewart? That IS who I'm talking to, right?"

I laughed out loud. "Yes, Bill, it's me. Listen . . . in a nutshell, you're my best friend. I know I've never even thought of sharing the company, even with my key employees, much less my oldest friend, but more than anyone else you've been instrumental in making the company what it is. I don't think it would have been possible to do it without you. Let's just say this is long overdue. There's something else I want you to know. I have some very mixed feelings about our meeting with this guy. If it goes the way I think it could, I want you to benefit from it. If it goes poorly, then you won't have lost anything, but at least you'll know that I appreciate you."

"Alan, I've known that all along. You've given me some huge bonuses that were, shall we say, embarrassing?"

"Okay, so, let's just say you should have received a `piece of the action' along with it, and now that omission is about to be corrected. I'll have to have the documents drawn up before tomorrow morning. I'll see you then."

I was beginning to feel a little emotional, so I quickly hung up. I looked at the boys and saw that their eyes had gotten quite large. I shrugged and said, "Let's go inside."

They followed me inside the house while I speed dialed Carl's direct line. We all walked together into the living room. I liked the living room for talking, because of the big windows that looked out over the adjacent pasture and hills, beyond. It's quite peaceful. As we took seats, Carl finally answered his phone.

"Hi, Alan! The papers are all ready."

"Great! I'll meet you at the Abbott house at five-thirty. I've got something else for you. I need for you to draw up papers giving William Matheson five percent ownership in Stewart Systems, Inc. They need to be finished and ready for signing tomorrow morning at nine-thirty."

He sighed, loudly. "Alan, that's awfully generous of you! Getting those papers ready by then is a tall order, but I can do it. I assume you want the papers delivered to your office?"

"Yes. Carl, you're great!"

"That's why you pay me so much!" he chuckled. "Say, let's get back to Paul a minute. I've got something I need for YOU to do. I need for you to ask Paul questions about how he's been treated at home. I need to know if there's any history of abuse. If there's any reluctance on the part of his parents to go through with this, I might need some ammunition."

I spoke softly and glanced at Paul as I said, "Okay, I'll ask him. I'll call you back."

After I hung up, I studied the boys. They were sitting on the couch next to the chair where I was sitting. They were sitting close, but not touching. I decided that I'd better talk with Paul, alone.

"Stevey? Could you let Paul and me talk in private for a few minutes? It's important."

Stevey looked a little hurt, but he said, "Yeah, okay."

"Thanks, Stevey."

He got to his feet slowly and looked at Paul and me, curiously. I quickly stood and grabbed him into a tight hug. When I let him go, I kissed him a peck on the mouth. Stevey blushed and smiled, but the reassurance seemed to make him feel better. As he walked to the door, he looked back at us, and I smiled and winked at him. He waved and disappeared. Knowing Stevey, he would probably try to eavesdrop, but I didn't think that would hurt anything.

I sat on the couch next to Paul and touched his shoulder. "Paul," I said, softly, "it looks like you and I have been kind of thrown together today. I know you must be very hurt and confused right now, so I want you to know something. Stevey likes you a lot and he's told me some things about you. I've always wanted a son, but as a gay man, I never thought I could ever have one. After hearing about you, I know that there isn't anyone I would want to be my son more than you. You and Stevey, that is."

He looked at me for a moment, seemingly in awe. Then the clouds in his eyes burst into a downpour. He quickly put his hands over his face as his weeping turned to sobs. I grabbed him into a gentle hug and held him while he cried. When his tears slowed, he looked up at me, apparently seeing me for the first time. He let his tears run down his cheeks as he buried his face in my chest and wrapped his arms around me, tightly.

Several minutes later, his tears slowed and he sniffed, deeply. I pulled my handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to him.

After he blew his nose and wiped his face, he said, "I don't think Mom ever liked me. I don't know about Dad. He's nice to me, but he's always drunk."

I looked at him carefully. There was a slight discoloring next to his left eye.

"Paul, I have to ask this. Has your mother ever hit you?"

He moved his right arm across his tummy and held his left side. He looked directly into my eyes with something that looked like fear. "Why?"

I still had my hands on his shoulders, so I gently squeezed them. "Paul, I want you to know that as long as I have anything to say about it, no one will ever hurt you, ever again, and you'll never be made to do anything you don't want to do. Except maybe for occasional chores, that is. Do you understand?"

As I squeezed his shoulders a little tighter, he winced, so I relaxed my grip.

"Paul, would you do something for me?"

He looked up into my eyes. "Okay," he said, softly.

"I need for you to take your shirt off. I need to see if you're hurt."

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Okay," he whispered.

Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt. As he pulled it from his pants, I caught a glimpse of purple flesh. As he dropped it from his shoulders, I held my breath. His upper arms had bruises that appeared to have been made by large fingers wrapped around them. The left side of his rib cage was solidly purple and there was a large bruise on the left side of his stomach.

Reluctantly, I choked, "Please, Paul, turn around."

As he turned, more bruising assaulted my eyes. From his shoulder blades down to his belt, and likely farther down, his back was striped with wide bruises.

I choked and broke into involuntary sobs. Paul turned quickly to me just in time to see tears begin to stream from my eyes. I reached for him and pulled him into a gentle hug, trying not to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt.

When I could finally speak, I whispered, "Paul, no one will ever do this to you again. Never!"

He handed my wet handkerchief to me, and I added my own tears to it.

Paul started to put his shirt back on, but I stopped him. I whispered, "Wait a second. Paul, I need to get some pictures. Okay?"

He sighed and nodded. I think he expected it.

Quickly, I stepped into the next room and grabbed my digital camera from my desk. When I returned, I had him stand in front of the white drapes and took several photos of him, from all sides.

When I was done, he turned to me and asked, "Do you want me to take my pants off?"

I didn't think that would be a good idea. "No, Paul, I think we've got enough."

"But I think you should see this."

He deftly unbuckled his belt, unfastened and unzipped his pants, and let them drop to his ankles. He had bruising all around his thighs to match the bruises on his back. Before I could object, he hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his shorts and dropped them, too. I nearly fainted. I had seen all I needed to see, but he turned around and showed me more. Slowly, my sympathy for Paul turned to anger for his parents.

I swallowed hard and said, "Okay, Paul, I've seen enough."

He looked over his shoulder and asked, "Aren't you going to take pictures?"

I shook my head and said, "No. After we get the papers signed, we're going to the doctor's office. He'll make sure you're not seriously hurt and take whatever pictures he needs." As he pulled his clothing back into place and put his shirt back on, I took a deep breath and said, "Paul, I want to do whatever I have to do for you to be my son. But there's one thing I need to know. Is that what YOU want?"

He turned and looked deeply into my eyes as he buckled his belt. He walked slowly to me and put his arms gently around me and hugged me.

With his face buried in my chest, he mumbled, "I want you to be my dad."

My emotions were raw as we hugged, gently. I wanted to grab him up into a tight bear hug, but I was sure I'd hurt his already tortured flesh.

A good many minutes later, I whispered, "Paul, I've got to make a couple of phone calls. "Okay?"

He nodded as I grabbed my cell phone. I found Dr. Graves' number in my directory and sent it.

The pleasant receptionist said, "Dr. Graves' office."

"This is Alan Stewart. I need to speak with Dr. Graves."

"Oh, hello, Mr. Stewart. Dr. Graves just returned from making rounds at the hospital. I'll see if he can talk to you."

Only seconds later he picked up the phone. "Alan? What can I do for you?"

"David, I need another really big favor. I'm about to become guardian to Paul Abbott. He's thirteen and he's been beaten. I won't be able to bring him to you until six or six thirty. Can you see him then?"

He sighed, loudly. "For you, Alan, and for the boy, you know I will. Do you want me to come to your house?"

I marveled that he's a doctor who would actually make a house call for me. "No, David, I think it'd be better if we came to you. Are you sure that's okay?"

"You bet. I'll be here. Just let me know if you'll be later or if you can't come. I'll wait as long as you need for me to wait."

"Thanks, David. There's a special place in Heaven for you."

He whispered, "You, too, Alan. You, too. I don't know where you're finding these boys, but they need you."

I cleared my throat. "Yes, they do. And I need them. I'll see you later."

I looked down at Paul and kissed his forehead, running my fingers through his short, dark hair. His green eyes looked back at me. I caressed the smooth skin on his cheeks with my thumbs. I thought I could see appreciation in his eyes. I hoped that I could see happiness in them eventually, but that might take a while.

I speed dialed Carl. He picked it up on the first ring. "Alan, what've you got?"

"Carl, I'll have a file of photos for you. It's everything you'll need."

He breathed, "Oh, God. I was afraid of that." I could hear him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Listen, let's do this. I want you to be there exactly at five thirty. When you get there, don't get out of your car. I'm going to make them think you're some kind of law enforcement."

I had an inspiration. "I'll do you one better. Do you remember that FBI agent at DPS Headquarters?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"I might be able to get him there. The Abbotts know who he is. He interviewed them when the boys were kidnapped. What do you think?"

After a short pause he said, "Alan, that's absolutely brilliant. Let me know if you can get him there."

"I will. Later."

I hung up and speed dialed Andy. Before one ring was complete, he answered. "Alan! How can I help?"

"For starters, you can tell me how you know I need your help!"

He chuckled. "After today, I thought you might. Now, tell me what I can do."

I filled him in on what I'd found out about Paul and what Carl and I had arranged. Before I finished, he growled, "DAMN them! I'll be there at five thirty. Just give me that address."

I quickly relayed the address to him. After we finished our conversation and hung up, I wondered, once again, if I had done the right thing by involving him. This time I was almost sure that I had overdone it by asking him to help. After a quick glance at Paul's face, I knew I'd done the right thing. If his parents ended up in jail, then so be it! Some parents should never have been parents and Paul's parents are in that group.

I made a quick call to Carl and let him know to expect Andy at the Abbott's.

As I again held Paul in a loose hug, looking casually at the door, I caught a glimpse of a curious boy peeking for an instant around the corner. I chuckled.

"Stevey, you can come in, now."

There was a hesitation before he walked into the room. "I was just walking by and I . . ."

"Yeah, I know," I chuckled. "I knew you were there. Did you hear all of it, or do I need to fill you in?"

He walked up to me and began to hug me, too. Then he looked at Paul and hugged him tightly until Paul winced and said, "Ow!"

Stevey said, "Sorry!" and looked up at me, puzzled.

"Hmm. Apparently you didn't hear everything." I looked down at Paul and asked him, "Do you want to tell Stevey?"

Stevey said, "Tell me what?"

Paul nodded at me then turned to Stevey and said, "They beat me. My `rents and brothers. They beat me all over."

Stevey wrinkled his forehead. Paul seemed to know that he had to show Stevey sooner or later, so he sighed and began to unbutton his shirt. He let it drop from his shoulders and turned around. Stevey gasped, covered his mouth with his hands and muffled, "Oh, fuck!"

I glared at him for cursing. He quickly glanced an apology at me then turned back to Paul. As I turned back to Paul, I saw that he was dropping his pants and shorts at the same time. As his clothes fell to the floor, he stood naked from the ankles up and Stevey screamed! He stepped quickly to Paul and put his hands out and stopped. Keeping his hands just above his skin, he seemed to sense the pain Paul was experiencing.

They both cried as Stevey silently inspected every inch of Paul's battered body. When his attention reached Paul's groin, I thought I could see some swelling appear. As if in confirmation, Paul whimpered.

I whispered, "Okay, Paul, that's enough. We need to get ready to go." I touched Stevey on the shoulder to get his attention. He jumped at my touch as if he hadn't been aware that I was there. He looked up at me and I saw anguish distort his young face.

I helped Stevey to his feet as Paul pulled his clothes back on. He threw his arms around me and buried his face in my chest.

I finally heard him murmuring, repeating, "No. No. No. No."

"Stevey," I whispered, "He'll be alright. Honest. We're taking him to see Dr. Graves, later. Okay?" I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead. Finally, he turned back to Paul as he was buckling his belt again.

Paul looked at Stevey and said, "Sorry, Stevey. I didn't mean to scare you."

Stevey wiped his face and nose on the back of his hand then stepped carefully to Paul. Touching him as if he were fragile crystal, he kissed him gently on the lips and whispered, "Paul, I'm sorry I hurt you. When I hugged you I hurt you. I'm sorry."

Paul smiled and shrugged. "I'd rather be hurt by one of your hugs anytime! My `rents and brothers seemed to think they were loving me with their fists and swinging a board at me."

I said, "They hit you with a board?"

"Yeah. It's a bed slat that fell out of the bed. It always falls out, so they just leave it out. Mom uses it to paddle us, but this time she got my older brothers to beat me with it, too."

"Boys, come with me into the den. I need to print these pictures."

I put photographic paper in the printer and the chip from the camera into the computer. After I send the pictures to print, I turned to Paul. "I need to ask another question. Tell me if you don't want to answer it, okay?"

He nodded.

"I need to know if anyone in your family ever touched you. Sexually."

He looked at me for a moment then smiled. "Nah. They'd never do that! They're a bunch of rednecks! That's why they beat me. They wanted to beat the `queer' out of me!" He dropped his smile and looked directly into my eyes. "I always knew I was different from them. For one thing, I talk different. I use proper words and grammar. They all talk like a bunch of redneck hicks! They always knew I was different, too."

"Paul, I need to know who hurt you in front. You know, in your groin."

He looked angry when he said, "They all did. They all beat my stuff with a belt. Except my little brother. He never hurt me. I think he was just as scared as I was." Then he thought a moment. "I think my little brother might be gay, too."

Alarms went off in my mind. "How old is he?"

"Eleven."

"What makes you think he's gay?"

"He talks like I do. He always did look up to me, more than my other brothers. And he hugs me a lot. Philly and I share a room and my other brothers share the other room."

I thought a moment. "Well, eleven is still a little too young to know for sure. But if he is, I don't want him to go through what you did. I'll have to give it some thought. If there's anything we need to do for him to protect him, we'll do it."

Paul stepped close to me and put his arms around my neck. He whispered, "I'm gonna like having you as my dad."

Stevey smiled at us. He must have felt left out, either that or jealous, because he stepped up to me, sat in my lap and hugged both of us. Taking that as a cue, Paul adjusted Stevey so he could sit on my other leg, so I had both of them in my lap.

As nice as it was to feel their closeness, it wasn't long before I was feeling the effects of having the weight of two teenagers in my lap. Fortunately, the printer finished at the same time, so I announced that we needed to get ready to go. Since I'd printed two copies of the pics, I made up two files. I saved the pics to my computer hard drive and shut it down.

Then I made a quick call to Tim to fill him in. His voice was salve to my emotions. "This is Tim Smith."

"Hi, Babe," I whispered. "I love you."

"Hi, Babe. What's wrong?" He must have sensed the tension in my voice.

"I just needed to hear your voice. I have an appointment at Paul's house at five-thirty to get papers signed. I think we're pretty well prepared. Pray for us."

"You got it. So you'll be late getting home?"

"Later than that. I've got an after hours appointment for Paul to see Dr. Graves. I'll tell you about it when I see you. Don't worry, though. I think it'll all work out."

"Okay," he said, tentatively. "I'll see you at home."

On our way out, I let Nell know we'd be home late. She seemed to sense that something serious was afoot, so she didn't offer any banter. Exactly at five-thirty, I pulled the Suburban up to the curb in front of the Abbott house behind a familiar black sedan, and we couldn't help but notice the three State Trooper cars parked across the street. As soon as I parked, Andy got out of his car and began to walk toward us. Carl got out of his car, parked farther along in front of the house next door and walked behind Andy.

I looked at the wide-eyed faces of my two boys and said, sternly, "Listen, this is important. Stay in the car, and don't open the door for anyone." They both nodded, silently.

I got out and met them, handing Carl and Andy each a file folder.

Without saying a word, they opened their respective folders. Andy was silent, but I saw his jaw muscles tensing and his nostrils flaring. Carl whispered, "Dear Lord in Heaven."

When they had both studied all the photos, they closed the folders and glared at me. I knew their anger wasn't directed at me, but it was still unsettling.

Andy tried to see through the dark windows of the Suburban, but couldn't. "Is he in there?" he asked.

"Yes, he's here. Stevey's in there with him." Nodding at the DPS cars, I asked Andy, "Did those guys come with you?"

"Yeah. They're here in case there's any trouble. I also brought someone else." He nodded at yet another car, parked behind the trooper's cars. "She's with Child Protective Services. Alan, I have to show these to her." He turned to me and demanded, "Who did it?"

"Paul said they all had a hand in it. All but his younger brother. The ones you want are his mother, father, and two older brothers."

Carl interceded, "Wait `til I'm through in there. Then you can do anything you want, okay?"

Andy glared at Carl quickly then said, "Okay. Make it fast."

Carl practically trotted to the house and rang the doorbell. When Paul's mother answered the door, she looked across the street and it appeared as if all the color left her face. I was afraid she'd slam the door in Carl's face, but before she could, he said something to her. In an instant, she stepped aside and he walked though the door. The door slammed, closing us out.

After an interminable sixteen minutes, the door reopened and a red-faced Carl walked out, carrying a box. When he had stepped half-way down the walkway, he glared directly at me and put his hand in front of the box, away from the house. When I noticed that he had made a fist with his thumb pointed up, I realized I hadn't been breathing! My guts did back flips!

I ran to the door of the Suburban and jumped in, leaning into Paul, kissing him on the forehead. I felt tears streaking my cheeks as I said into his sad face, "You're my son, now!"

Stevey squealed as Paul looked into my face with what I think was love, but could have been relief. After hesitating, he wrapped his arms around my neck and didn't seem to want to let go. He finally released me and whispered, "I love you . . . Dad!"

I choked, "I love you, too, son!" I dissolved into tears. I knew it wasn't final, that there was an uphill battle in the courts to get it all finalized, but the biggest hurdle was overcome. I had taken this very special boy away from his abusive family. I wiped my face with my fingers and kissed Paul on the cheek. Looking deeply into his eyes, I whispered, "Stay here. We're going to the doctor's as soon as we leave. Okay?"

He nodded.

I leaned past him and kissed Stevey on the cheek, too, before I climbed back out. I walked up to Andy and Carl, who had been joined by a woman. I assumed the woman was the CPS caseworker. My assumption was quickly confirmed.

As I walked up to them, I heard Carl say, "I didn't promise them ANYTHING, but they're very afraid you might arrest them. I told them only that doing the right thing for Paul might look good for them, if anything were to happen, legally."

I looked over to see the woman raise her head from the file folder she was holding. Tears were making her mascara run down her cheeks, which she smeared with a tissue. She finally said, "I never get used to seeing this, and I pray I never do. These people must be arrested. NOW!"

"Before we do that," Andy said, authoritatively, "there's the matter of Paul's custody. Mr. Winston has papers in his briefcase that give guardianship of Paul Abbott to Mr. Stewart, here. Then there's the matter of what to do with the younger brother."

"Phil," I interjected.

"Phil," Andy repeated. "I know Mr. Stewart, personally, and know him to be of the highest moral fiber. In addition, he has the means to make the boys quite comfortable. I recommend that you assign him as Phil's temporary guardian."

She thought a moment then asked, "Mr. Stewart, have you filled out an application to be a foster parent?"

"No, I haven't, but I will."

Carl stepped in and said, "You'll have the completed paperwork first thing in the morning. Ten o'clock at the latest."

She thought a moment and said, "That and a personal recommendation from the FBI will be more than acceptable. By the way, my name is Amy Gonzales."

I shook her hand and said, "Thank you Ms. Gonzales."

"Don't thank me. You're doing the state and the boys a great service. Before we go inside, I'll need to see the boy in these pictures."

I indicated the Suburban. "This way." I offered for her to sit in the driver's seat.

I stood in the door and introduced her. "Paul, this is Ms. Gonzales. She needs to ask you a couple of questions."

He sniffled and said, "Okay."

"Paul, please call me Amy. I saw the pictures of you and I need to make sure they're accurate. Can you lift your shirt for me?"

"Sure."

With a little effort he exposed the angry looking bruise on his left side. Amy visibly winced. "Okay, you can tuck your shirt back in. How did you get this bruise?"

Paul looked at me, questioningly. I said, "Paul, she needs to know. Tell her the truth."

He looked into her eyes and said, softly, "My mom and dad and my brothers beat me. Not Phil, not my little brother, just the rest of them."

"What did they beat you with?"

"Their fists and a bed slat: a narrow board." He put his hand on his side. "My brother hit me here first. He did it with the board. I had my hands over my eyes. I didn't want to watch. My dad hit me there, too. My brothers slugged me in the stomach with their fists. Mostly, they used the board on my back and my butt and then they used a belt on my front."

"Y-Your front?"

I interrupted. "We're going to see a doctor when we leave here."

She gasped then cleared her throat. "Thank you, Paul. You've told me all I need to know for now." As she climbed out of the Suburban, she said to me under her breath, "Wait here."

We watched while Amy gave some instructions to Andy and the State Troopers. Then Andy, two of the troopers and Amy walked up to the front door. One of the other troopers went around behind the house and another stayed in the front yard. As we watched, four County Sheriff's Deputies drove up with their lights flashing.

I said, calmly, "I think you boys should get in the back seat and strap yourselves in." I started the engine and kept it running, taking note of all escape routes, just as I had been taught when I bought the Suburban.

They looked at me with wide eyes then jumped into the back seat.

We heard some shouts and screams, even through the thick windows and armor plating of the Suburban, and the Sheriff's Deputies all jumped from their cars and ran inside. A short time later, four people, one of whom I recognized as Paul's mom, were led out of the house and placed unceremoniously into two of the county cruisers.

"Say, Paul, how old are your older brothers?" I felt ashamed that I hadn't asked until that moment. I had assumed they were teenagers.

"They're twenty-three. They're twins."

No sooner was most of Paul's family in custody, when Amy led a very frail looking eleven year-old from the house, directly toward the Suburban. I unlocked the back door.

Paul yelled, "Philly! That's Philly!"

I said in a voice that I forced to be calm, "Stevey, open your door, please."

As the door swung open, Amy helped Philly climb in. He climbed between Stevey and Paul, and Paul grabbed him into a tight hug.

Startled at first, until he recognized who was grabbing him, Philly returned his embrace. "Paul! Paul, I thought they killed you!" he cried.

Paul breathed, "You're safe, now. We both are. That's our new dad." He pointed at me. "He's a really cool dude. He's nice and no one's ever gonna hurt us again."

I looked at him, trying to control myself. I whispered, "Hi, Philly. I'm Alan, or whatever you want to call me."

Paul looked at Philly and whispered, "I'm calling him Dad." Phil's eyes were wide as he studied me.

Amy watched the interplay, finally smiling, seemingly satisfied. She looked at me and said, "I'll talk with you, later. Take these boys home."

Just as she said that, there was a knock on my window. It was Carl and he was still holding that box. I opened the door. Handing me the box, he said, "This is for Paul. You should probably come back later and get the rest of his things." He leaned in and whispered, "They told me they were keeping his clothes for Phil. It might be just as well."

I nodded. I took the box and handed it back to the boys, saying, "Put this behind the seat, please."

When Carl and Amy closed the doors, I locked them. We made a quick trip to the doctor's, arriving just after six-thirty. David was there, as promised, meeting us at the door.

When he let us in, he said, "Come in! Now, I know Stevey. How are you, Stevey? Any problems?"

He smiled and blushed at David. "No, sir. Everything's fine and getting better. I was scared at first, but it's okay, now."

David nodded. "Good. Now which one of you two is Paul?"

I stepped in to do the introductions. "Dr. Graves, this is Paul and this is his younger brother Phil. Phil was my second surprise today. I think he needs looking over, too."

David looked at me with concern.

"Just to be on the safe side," I added.

He nodded. "Okay, come on in, boys, and we'll have a look at you."

Stopping them, I said, "How about if we do one boy at a time?" I thought Paul's exam might embarrass him.

Paul looked up at me and said, "It's okay, Dad. I don't mind."

I smiled at him and said, "Okay, if you don't mind. It'd probably be good to keep your brother together with you, anyway."

While David led us all into an exam room, I explained in a low voice, "Paul's been beaten by his parents and brothers. I've been assigned his guardian. I don't know about Philly, but I thought I saw a discoloration around his left eye just like his brother. CPS is going to name me his foster father."

David shook his head at me. "You're a good man, Alan."

I shrugged. "I'm just in the right place at the right time to help, that's all."

When we got to the room, David patted the table and said, "Okay, Paul. You first. Show your brother how it's done. Have you ever been here, before?"

"Yeah. When I was little. I haven't been here, since, though."

"Oh? I'll be right back."

He was gone for a few minutes then returned with a thin file. "Paul, have you ever seen another doctor?"

"No, sir. Only you."

David looked at me and said, "Broken arm, questionable circumstances." Then he looked at Paul and said, "Paul, I wrote in your file that I wasn't sure how you broke your arm. Can you remember how it happened?"

Paul looked down and said softly, "Yes, sir, I remember. My dad . . . My OTHER dad . . ."

"Did he pick you up by the arm, or throw you?"

Paul looked directly into David's eyes for a moment, studying him, and then he said, "Both. He pushed me and I fell. Then he pulled my arm and threw my into the kitchen. When he did that, I felt my arm snap." He was holding his left upper arm while he was talking.

David nodded and wrote in the chart. "Okay, let's slip out of those things. You can leave your shorts on."

I've never seen anyone strip as fast as Paul did. After all, he'd done it twice today, already. David turned around and his jaw dropped. He studied Paul a moment then looked at me. I nodded. He sighed, loudly. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, as I suspected he might, he had a camera. This time the camera was digital.

"I just got this and need to try it out. It's a lot better than my film camera."

He had Paul stand in front of a blank, white wall and turned him slowly around, taking photos from every angle as well as close-ups. Then he set the camera down and sat on his wheeled stool.

"Okay, Paul. Come over here a minute." He put on a pair of latex gloves and carefully pressed around all of the bruises, each time asking if it hurt. Several times Paul winced and twice he yelped. Then David said, "Paul, this next part could be a little embarrassing. I have to look in your shorts. Do you want some privacy?"

He smiled and said, "No, sir. It's alright. I'm used to my brothers seeing me." Without warning he dropped his shorts to his feet and stepped out of them.

David seemed a little surprised. Then he said, "It isn't often I get such a brave boy in here." When he looked down at Paul's groin, he frowned. Carefully, he examined Paul's precious parts while Paul either winced or whimpered. When he finished, Paul was slightly inflated. David asked, "Does that hurt?"

Paul managed to whisper, "Yes, sir, it does."

"Does it hurt a lot?"

"Yes, sir, it hurts a lot."

David said, softly, "Okay, now turn around."

When David finished a quick inspection, he said, "Okay, son. I need a couple more pictures before you get dressed."

After taking the last photos, David told Paul to get dressed. Then he looked at Philly and asked, "See how easy it is? Would you take your clothes off for me?"

Philly looked at his brother who smiled at him. "C'mon Philly. No probs!" he said, bravely.

Reluctantly, Philly began disrobing. I looked over at Stevey. He had his hands in front of his crotch. I smiled at him and winked. He smiled and blushed. Seeing his friend naked had obviously gotten him aroused.

When Philly was down to his shorts, David said, "Leave those on. I'll just have a quick look."

David quickly inspected his body, made a few notes and took a few close-up photos of some remnants of bruising. Then he said, step over here, son. This'll only take a second."

Pulling the front of his shorts open, he looked then reached in and felt around. Then he said, "Okay, turn around." David's inspection of his backside was purely visual.

"Okay, Philly. You can get dressed." After writing a few more details in Philly's file, he looked at everyone in the room then said, "Okay, everyone here except Philly is sexually active and he'll soon be, so what I'm about to say won't come as a shock. Paul, I want you not to touch yourself or anyone else for two weeks. You've got some serious bruising there, so you won't want to, anyway. If you get fully erect, you could do some real damage. Understood?" Then he looked directly at Stevey and said, "Understood?"

Stevey blushed deeply and nodded.

David pulled me aside and whispered so the rest couldn't hear, "You'll need to keep an eye on little Phillip. He has evidence of old bruising, so I'm sure they were leaving him alone while they had Paul as their punching bag. He's a little undernourished, too. That could be because of anxiety." He placed his hand gently on my shoulder. "Alan, do for him what you do best. Love him."

My eyes clouded as I nodded. He moved away from me so he could speak to all of us, again. "Okay," David said. "I'll have to report this to CPS as I did for Stevey, but I'll be sure to state what you told me, Alan."

I cleared my throat. "David, there are two more things you need to know. The first is that the rest of Philly and Paul's family has been arrested for doing this to him, and the other is that their caseworker is Amy Gonzales."

"Amy? Good. I know her. I'll call her in the morning. Now, it's time for all good boys, and men, to get home and rest."

"Thanks, David." I extended my hand to him. He looked at it a minute and brushed it aside. Stepping into me, he surprised me with a bear hug.

"Alan, you're a special man. Special men get hugs. Now, as for you, I want you to begin to taper off that medicine I gave you." He then gave me instructions on how to do it.

"Thanks. You'll never know how much you've helped me."

"Oh, I've got an idea. But you're passing it along pretty well, I'd say." He looked around at "my boys."

"Thanks, David. Thanks."

"Stop it and go home."

As we were leaving, Stevey grabbed David into a hug then Paul followed suit. I saw Philly smile and copy his brother. When they were all done, David cleared his throat and said, "Go now. I want to see all of you again in a week."

We walked quickly to the Suburban in the almost empty parking lot and climbed in. Purely from habit I hit the door lock button and said, "Fasten your seat belts, boys." As I started it up, I heard all their belts click into place and I put it into gear. No sooner had we begun to move when a large silver car screeched to a stop behind us, blocking us from leaving!