Chapter I- Brothers Parting

It was 3:55 in the afternoon; Mark Evans was supposed to have left his Uncle Wallace and Aunt Susan's house at 3:00, when his father Jack had gotten here. There was a very simple reason why they hadn't left yet; Mark was stalling. These two weeks had just gone by too fast- it was unfair. Mark hadn't felt so cheated by Father Time in years, perhaps in his whole life. Consumed with grief- and self-doubt and blame- over the passing of his mother after months of illness, he'd had to see his father leave too, going off to Japan on a business trip he couldn't put off or avoid.

But things had changed. Mark, alone and quite miserable, had experienced a wonderful thing. He'd made a friend.

Henry Evans, Mark's blonde-haired, ice-blue-eyed cousin from Rockbridge, Maine, was a boy who took some getting used to. He was wise and insightful far beyond his years, strong due to his love for regular exercise. Henry could be kind and generous if he chose, but he was harsh and unforgiving to anyone who crossed him. Early on, Mark had begun to worry about Henry, not at all comfortable with the views he began sharing with Mark- or the way Henry liked to have fun most of the time. He was meaner than hell when he wanted to be; Henry was like no other twelve-year-old boy Mark had ever met.

But he didn't worry about that, the way he used to.

Mark wasn't quite sure what had happened; Henry said Mark fell and struck his head while they were exploring the cavernous interior of Fleetwood Hall, a titanic estate that stood alone and ignored in the gentle foothills at Rockbridge's western outskirts, Rockbridge itself being part of the outer Portland area. Mark figured he must have taken a pretty good fall; even now he remembered next to nothing of the experience. But Mark did know that Henry had taken care of him; when Mark woke up, they were back in the grand entrance hall, Mark propped up on an ancient leather couch off to one side of the enormous room. Henry was sitting on the floor, arms crossed and held tight to his chest as he shivered, watching Mark; the darker-haired of the two cousins had been lying there on the couch for some time, wearing both his and Henry's winter jackets.

They'd made their way home soon after that, Henry brushing off Mark's thanks rather shyly. Slipping under the imperious wrought-iron front gates just as they'd come in, Henry and Mark began the hour-long walk across town to get back home. During that walk, they'd walked and talked, gradually coming to feel such warm companionship that they barely noticed the cold.

Henry kept asking Mark if he was all right, and Mark at least once had to ask that of Henry; his blonde-haired cousin had looked unusually tired, almost drained by the experience. He brushed it off when Mark asked, but the dark-haired boy ended up assuming that Henry had been forced to carry Mark all the way back to the front doors from the Glass Library on the fourth floor of Fleetwood Hall. That certainly explained it; carrying someone over your shoulders that far would tire anybody.

The two boys got home well after dark; Henry didn't say just how long they'd been at the house, or how long Mark had been out- but he did say "a while", and the way he said it, Mark got a sense the delay had been more than thirty minutes. Wallace and Susan were both up, pacing the living room floor and anxiously waiting for the boys' return. When the two had knocked at the front door, Wallace had been angry enough that he yelled at Henry and Mark for making their parents- and aunt and uncle- worry so much. The two boys had hung their heads, said their apologies, and true to their word never been late like that again during Mark's visit.

That last week had gone by so fast. Mark hadn't had so much fun in years, and he felt closer to Henry- more like one of the brothers Henry had said they could be- every day. They would spend hours going places together- visiting the rail yard that passed through town, going down to the nearby district of Rockport and watching the fishing boats go out and come in, smoking cigarettes where the adults couldn't see them, and so much more.

Mark and Henry even went to work on the treehouse out back with a passion, finishing it and even setting up plans to install removable plastic 'windows' and perhaps even a door. It took many hours of hard work out in the cold, but it was worth it. It was the best damn tree house Mark or Henry had ever seen. They might not be using it much in the coming years; the boys would be turning 13 soon, and it would all just be uphill from there. No more playing childish games or smoking in the treehouse; they'd be in the big leagues then. Driving, drinking, fucking, shoving nerds out of their way in the halls- the more Mark and Henry talked about it, the more they looked forward to it. All they needed to do was wait. They had no reason to believe they'd be any stronger or faster than the boys around them at school; no way of knowing just when puberty's changes would begin. But there was always a way of getting what you wanted; Mark understood that now. Henry had told him all about it, proving yet again how knowledge truly was power.

But today was the end of Mark's stay at his cousin's house; the end of something very good. He felt like he'd only just truly met Henry, and now he had to leave. It just wasn't fair.

Mark sighed as he zipped up the duffel bag he was taking with him; Henry, using his persuasive skills to the fullest, had convinced his parents to take them out shopping; Mark now owned a whole set of new clothes, the best he'd ever owned. While Mark had stayed at home to watch Connie another afternoon of Mark's final week in Maine, Henry had gone out with his father to get Mark's presents for Christmas. Mark was of course not allowed to see what had been found for him, but Henry promised Mark he'd get a real present from his cousin before leaving.

That time seemed to have come. Mark was just finishing zipping up the emerald green sports duffel bag when Henry tapped him on the shoulder; his cousin was superbly dressed in a ruby red sweater and khaki pants. He was smiling warmly. "Here," he said, handing Mark a small wooden box. "I got two of 'em. So we can be brothers."

Mark smiled as he took the box Henry was holding out; he remembered that moment, too. Henry had given him a white plaster mask when they'd first met, telling him those very words. It amazed Mark how in just two weeks, those words already rang true.

"Well, go on," Henry chuckled, seeing Mark space out a bit as he thought back and remembered. "Open it."

The darker-haired boy did, taking the cover off and gasping a little as he saw what lay underneath.

"Early Christmas present, Mark," Henry said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Mark breathed, barely above a whisper. Inside the box, lying in imprints made in a rectangle of dark, velvet-like padding were two identical black-handled knives. Henry adroitly snatched one up, pointed it away from himself and pressed a small button; with a sharp snick a blade that had to be six inches in length snapped out. Mark stared, entranced; the blade's steel gleamed like a mirror. There wasn't a spot or a flaw to be found; Mark had never seen anything so beautiful.

Henry wisely folded his up and pocketed it, then placed the cover of the box back on Mark's; he could hear somebody coming up the stairs. Small feet, light and bounding; Henry frowned in annoyance. Connie.

"Henry! Mark!" Connie chirped, halting at the doorway.

"What?" Henry said neutrally, moving towards his sister as Mark placed that last item in his bag, zipping it closed again.

"Dad says Uncle Jack's ready to go; you guys need to come down soon!"

"We're coming," Henry said dismissively, already turning away.

Connie paused uncertainly; these two had been stalling for a while now, and Jack really did need to get going. Maine to Arizona was a three-day drive at the very least; not something you wanted to start at the end of the day. "Make sure Mark and Henry get down here," was what Wallace had said. And yet it looked like the two boys were gonna try to stall for time again.

"But Dad said-" Connie said, starting to object. Henry cut her off. "Listen," he said, an edge of steel coming into his voice, "I said we'll be down there. Just wait."

Connie crossed her arms and pouted. "We've been waiting!"

"He said, wait! So wait!" Mark snapped, looking over at her impatiently.

The blonde-haired girl stared; Mark had never talked like that before. She looked from one boy's face to the next, from Henry's cold blue eyes to Mark's gray-blue ones, which held a sternness she'd never noticed before. She glanced from one boy's face to the other, and for the first time realised she couldn't tell which was which. The eyes were similar in colour, held the same ill-concealed look of annoyance, and their expressions were set to match.

"Fine!" Connie said, turning and bounding back down the stairs. She'd come up there and told those two what she was supposed to tell them. Let them get in trouble with Mom and Dad if they wanted to!

Back in Henry's room, Mark's cousin sighed. "I guess we better go, man," he said reluctantly. "Dad's gonna have a fit if we're up here much longer."

"Yeah," Mark nodded. "Guess so." Then he smirked a bit. "Can't have that, right?"

"No indeed," Henry replied, that same sly smile on his lips. He enjoyed these moments between himself and Mark; it was like they understood each other so well these days, words were sometimes just a formality. Neither of them much cared if the adults downstairs got annoyed at their delaying or not; neither Mark nor Henry had expected they'd enjoy these past two weeks so much, but all things had to end. Unfortunately.

Finally, Henry started for the stairs, picking up Mark's backpack as his cousin hefted the duffel. "Come on, brother," Henry said with a smile. "Let's go. They're waiting for us."

As they made their way down the stairs, Henry turned slightly to Mark, eyeing him and judging the distance carefully- then he kicked his cousin behind the left knee, letting out an almost theatrical "Whoops!" as Mark toppled and fell on the duffel bag. But Mark, not to be outdone, threw himself into a roll, tumbling right on down the stairs and towards Henry, pulling the surprised blonde down with him.

"Mark! Henry!" Susan cried, hurrying towards the stairs and then backing away as the tangled mess of boys and luggage came tumbling down the stairs towards her. Jack and Wallace, having been sitting across from each other in the living room nearby, turned their heads at the sound, then jumped up and hurried over. They stopped abruptly, though, and in spite of themselves couldn't help but smile.

The two boys were rolling around on the landing, wrestling amidst Mark's dropped bags and laughing.

"See, Jack?" Wallace said quietly, smiling a little. "I told you a few weeks here would do him some good. He's doing fine."

Jack gazed down at his son and nephew as they wrestled on the landing; alternately growling with mock fierceness and laughing, they hadn't been bothered by the fall down the stairs a bit. There'd be a few bruises later, perhaps, but neither twelve-year-old seemed to mind. They were boys, and right now held a passing resemblance to a couple of wolf cubs. Jack found the comparison startling; Mark had always been so gentle and passive. Now he looked like he was enjoying the playful physical battle with Henry. It wasn't a side of Mark that Jack was used to.

But maybe this was a result of Mark's stay with Henry, who Jack remembered was a bit more of a fighter, a boy who sometimes liked trading punches as a show of affection. Maybe meeting Henry and spending time with him had brought that out in Mark; in any case, it was something Jack was glad to see. Mark was laughing like he did years ago; before Janice had started her slow, steady decline and finally- just weeks ago still- passed away. It had been a terrible blow to Jack, and to Mark, and Jack had seen it troubling Mark enough that he had truly wished that he didn't have to leave on his business trip to Japan.

Two weeks later, though, Jack saw his son, lively and cheerful, tumbling down a flight of stairs with his cousin and wrestling with him playfully at the bottom. They had probably been having the time of their lives these two weeks; just like Wallace had said.

Jack felt a rush of gratitude towards Wallace and Susan- and to Henry, for so eagerly befriending Mark and doing so much to bring his old self back again. Not even that; Jack could have sworn his son was actually somehow more than he was before. Stronger, more alive. Maybe it was just the stark contrast of the subdued, withdrawn way he'd been two weeks ago after the funeral to the way he was now. Jack was very glad now he'd taken Wallace and Susan's offer; clearly, in leaving Mark with them, he'd done the right thing.

"All right, boys," Susan said, moving in and gently but firmly separating them. "What'd I tell you? Not so rough! You're going to have bruises tonight, Henry! Mark; you, too!"

The two boys stood, still laughing a little. "Sorry, Mom," Henry said, promptly becoming contrite. "We were just having fun."

Mark nodded, grinning and panting. "Let's do that again!"

Susan shook her head, trying hard to be stern but letting a smile through even so. "Boys," she said, and Henry bowed elegantly. "We are, Mom. And just think! We'll be teenagers soon."

All three adults in the entrance hall of the house groaned in perfect unison, making the two boys just smile wider.

"Don't remind me," Wallace said with a mock-pained expression. "When Henry was eleven he wrecked my best camera. Pretty soon he's gonna be wrecking my car."

"Wallace," Susan said, "Do you wanna give them ideas?"

"What?" Wallace said, feigning confusion. "Did I say something I shouldn't?"

Mark turned and hefted his bags; Henry again insisted on taking one, now slinging the heavier duffel bag over his shoulder and standing ready to take it out to his Uncle Jack's car. Mark looked towards Jack. "I'm ready to go, Dad."

"You sure?" Jack asked; Mark looked like he didn't quite want to leave.

But Mark nodded, and he appeared remarkably sure of himself. Like he didn't want to leave- but knew he had to. "Yeah," Mark said, and Jack began his goodbyes.

"Wallace," he said, "Susan, I can't thank either of you enough for stepping in and helping me and Mark at a… at a time like this." Jack had some trouble continuing there; even thinking about his wife still greatly troubled him; it hadn't even been a month yet. The wounds hadn't yet had time to heal.

But Susan and Wallace were the picture of understanding. "It was our pleasure," Susan said, meaning every word. "Mark's been great."

"You needed us, Jack," Wallace said, looking at his brother with sympathy. "You and Janice would have done the same for us; I know it. I just wish we could've done more."

Jack shook hands with his brother. "Believe me," he said with a smile and a glance at Mark, "I think you've helped plenty. Mark seems to have had a great time."

"He sure did," Susan smiled, "He's welcome back anytime."

Both boys looked very pleased to hear that.

"Connie!" Jack called, looking at the six-year-old girl in the jeans and sweater who'd been standing next to her mother, observing the proceedings in silence- and throwing Henry a dirty look when she thought nobody was looking.

She hurried over to her Uncle Jack, though, who swept her up and hugged her. "Thanks for looking after Mark, Connie," Jack said.

"Welcome, Uncle Jack!" Connie chirped. She glanced at her mother while Jack held her. "Mom, can we go to Arizona sometime?"

"We might," Susan said. She glanced at Jack. "Of course, Uncle Jack and Mark are always welcome to visit us."

Jack smiled, gently kneeling to let Connie down. "I think we will sometime," he said.

Finally, the moment arrived. "Come on, Mark," Jack said, turning for the door. "Let's get going. Arizona's quite a drive away."

Jack was a little surprised at how Henry so promptly trailed out the door after them, lugging Mark's duffel bag with the occasional grunt as the three walked to Jack's tan Jeep Wrangler.

"Thanks again for helping Mark pick out all those clothes, Henry," Jack said as they went. "That was real nice of you."

"I was glad to," Henry said. He seemed to really mean it.

Jack shivered at the biting cold, in spite of his winter jacket; as he unlocked the back door of the Wrangler's narrow cargo area, he marveled again at his brother's choice of residence; Maine was a tough place to live in the winter. Arizona was a world apart from it.

The two bags were promptly stowed, and Jack took out the Jeep's keys again, jingling them a little as a subtle way of letting the boys know that time had finally come.

Mark and Henry faced each other by the back of the Jeep, locking eyes and regarding one another solemnly. Henry smiled warmly, putting out a hand.

"See you, brother."

Mark took Henry's hand- and pulled him forward, gripping him in a tight bear-hug. Henry followed suit, and the two boys stood that way for some time. Jack, standing nearby, found himself fearing for the boys' ribs.

Finally, the two separated. Henry took of his tan winter coat, the one lined with white fur on the inside. It was his favourite, and he was handing it to Mark now. "Here," Henry said. "For the trip back."

Surprised and pleased, Mark smiled back. "Thanks!"

"Henry," Jack said uncertainly, "Are you sure about this?"

Henry nodded. He was sure. "I can get another one," he said.

Finally, they could delay no longer. With one more tight, bone-crushing hug, the boys said their farewells. Mark climbed into the passenger seat of his Dad's Jeep, looking back to wave at Wallace, Susan and Connie, who had come out on the front porch of the house. Then he looked back at Henry, amazed as his cousin stood on the layer of snow covering the lawn, the wind whipping around him and undoubtedly slicing clean through his gray wool pants and Ruby red sweater. Henry must have been freezing out there, but he stood rooted to the spot as his Uncle Jack started the Jeep's engine and drove away, waving from the driveway until the very last moment, when the Jeep finally disappeared from sight.

Driving back down Chamberlain Drive and towards the interstate, Jack largely stayed silent, as he was preoccupied with making sure he got his directions right. The drive back to Arizona would take long enough as it is, even if Jack didn't miss any of the key highway and route entrances and exits.

But Jack did look at Mark now and then; he hadn't seen him for two weeks, and after leaving him in Maine to go on that business trip to Japan, Jack wanted to make up for last time any way that he could. Much like he'd been on the trip up to Maine two weeks ago, Mark didn't say much, seeming rather withdrawn. But the Gameboy he'd buried himself in for half the trip out to Maine was in one of his bags, stowed away and uncalled for. Instead, Mark gazed out the passenger window, watching the snow and ice-covered Maine landscape pass by, as if committing it to memory.

"How we doing, Mark?" Jack said as they turned onto the highway entrance ramp. If nothing else, he wanted to see how Mark would respond.

Two weeks ago, Mark probably would have grunted or muttered some noncommittal response. But today, he just gave a slight shrug, glancing over at his dad and smiling a little. "All right," he said.

"Have a good time staying up here with Uncle Wallace and everybody?"

Now Mark really did smile, a warm and cheerful smile that easily reached his eyes. "Yeah," Mark said, thinking of his cousin, his new friend Henry. "Yeah, I had a great time."

"Great," Jack said, grinning back, so pleased was he at the look of calm and contentment he saw on Mark's face. Today he'd been taken aback by seeing Mark laughing and playing with Henry- after losing Janice, Jack had begun to worry if he'd hear Mark laugh ever again. But Mark had been laughing- and it was real laughter, the sound of a cheerful, happy boy.

The things Jack had seen today brought him a great deal of peace; a sense that, in a way, maybe leaving Mark for these two weeks had been just what the both of them needed. Jack's business was doing better than ever, the deal with the Japanese firm solidly in hand. Wallace had confided over the phone that he was doing some damn good deals on the stock market lately; before long, Wallace said, he would have as much as a 5% stake in Chrysler Corporation. With the bold, dynamic leadership of new CEO David Parr, Chrysler was really headed somewhere, starting to put real emphasis on quality again and leaving the misguided choices of the 80's behind them.

The two men of the family were doing just fine; both Jack and Wallace were moving up steadily in their business careers. Well, really, Wallace had about all he needed; he was just advancing things a little at a time, ensuring a permanently prosperous future for his family. Jack- he was on his way to that. He could tell.

And Mark? Jack's thoughts came back to his son in a hurry, but surprisingly, as they began the drive back down the interstate and on to Arizona, Jack didn't feel very guilty for letting his mind drift towards his and his brother's business careers. The Evans brothers had both suffered tragedy, suffered loss. Just weeks ago, Jack had lost his wife; Wallace, two years ago, had lost his son. But now, things were going right again. And Mark…

Jack cast a glance at Mark, who, seeming a little worn out by his battle with Henry and the two weeks he'd spent exploring a whole new world- for that's what Maine was to Mark- with his cousin, had leaned up against the doorframe and fallen asleep. He was comfortably wrapped in Henry's beautiful and expensive winter coat, using the fur liner of its concealable hood as a pillow. A few strands of Mark's wavy brown hair hung over his face, which looked calm and fully at peace.

He's doing great, Jack thought happily, adjusting the Jeep's heater a little and keeping two steady hands on his driving. My son's doing fine.