"I thought maybe you'd reconsidered takin' a shower with me," Harry said after they'd finished washing and Louis had pulled towels off the rack. "You sure had me anticipatin' it."

"I wanted to build the desire in you," Louis admitted.

"Lou, you have no idea . . . a slow burn is great, but any kind of physical contact with you is massively spectacular for me. You're so sexy. God, I got so fuckin' turned on when you came twice."

Louis was busy trying to fight off the shock because Harry had called him sexy. "And you came . . . just from suckin' me," Louis pointed out, amazed and proud that Harry would desire him that much.

Harry nodded. "I felt the waves of my orgasm sloshin' all over me as you were comin,' and next thing I knew, I was shootin' my load. I came so hard . . . "

"That's hot," breathed Louis. His legs felt weak again like they had after his orgasm.

After they'd dressed in sweats, they went to the living room to reveal what was in Louis' boxes. Still quivery from their shower encounter, Louis' heart was thumping at triple tempo. The moment was here. No way to get out of it now, he had to almost thrust himself toward the boxes, because his fear was fast turning into terror.

His hands trembled as he began to remove the tape from the first box. Harry's hand was on his lower back, letting him know he had his support. The tape came off slowly, but that was alright, because Louis wasn't in a big hurry to see the contents. At this point, he felt almost like putting it off forever.

But Harry was silently encouraging him, rubbing circles on his lower back, kissing his shoulder randomly, taking the strips of tape from him as Louis ripped them off and depositing them into a small pile on the floor.

After the flaps of the box were open, Louis could stall no longer. It was the moment of truth. He took a deep breath and reached inside. The first thing he touched was hard and about six or seven inches long. He pulled it out. A cell phone. His eyes lit up. So he had a cell phone! The contacts might reveal things about his life! Of course the phone didn't power up – he'd have to charge it first. Then his brain registered that the phone bill had not been paid in six months. So he wouldn't be able to use it anyway.

"No worries," said Harry quietly, reading his thoughts. "We'll just use my phone to call to get the phone reinstated."

Louis set the phone down and again reached into the box, almost holding his breath, and reminding himself to breathe. He pulled out a picture frame, again forgetting to take a breath. It was a picture of himself and a woman. At first he gasped, thinking it was his mother, but there were lots of children in the background sprinkled around a huge room and he realized it must have been the foster home. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight. He studied the woman's face, and could almost remember her. She'd been kind to him, and he assumed she'd been an employee. He explained that to Harry.

Next he pulled out five or six books about various subjects. Harry smiled when he saw them, his eyes latching onto Louis' own eyes. This was one of their shared passions – reading.

Thank God for Harry, that he was here to help him through this! Louis took a deep breath and continued.

Some pieces of wood that had been wittled into animal shapes. He'd have to look at them closer later on. "Nice," approved Harry. Next was a very nice engraved pocket knife that had multiple tools and functions, and then Louis' hand settled on something leather. He gasped when he saw it was a wallet.

His wallet!

Eagerly, he opened it and an Arizona Driver's License appeared that was still valid. He looked at the name on it. Louis William Tomlinson. The address belonged to Stockholm Ranch. So he'd apparently renewed it while employed there. The birthdate indicated he was twenty-eight years old. His eyes went to Harry's.

"Wow, cool," Harry chortled. "You're older than me! Cradle robber!"

"I didn't think I'd be that old. I thought maybe twenty-five," said Louis.

"Me too," agreed Harry.

"How old are you? I never even asked! Not that it matters anyway . . ."

"I'm twenty-six," and Harry said this with a smile.

"You're just a baby!" cried Louis, and they laughed, Louis' nervousness starting to evaporate. Looking further into the wallet, Louis found his Social Security card and a medical insurance card.

"You could've used this when you had that goose egg on your head," Harry said, indicating the insurance card. There weren't any credit cards, but Louis kind of expected that. He'd been young and fresh from England, working odd jobs just to get by.

There were various business cards. One for a place that sold tools and a couple others that sold horse tack and one for the provider for his cell phone. Nothing that was life-changing, until he found his birth certificate. They both smiled over that. Louis' eyes hovered wistfully over his mother's and father's names. Troy and Johanna.

"I know my parents' names now!" It brought a smile to Harry's face.

Louis looked into the billfold, and there were three twenty dollar bills.

"Look at that. Money's still in there," Harry was surprised. "I would have thought those other hands would have taken it."

"I bet Mr. Hoffman took it for safekeepin' straightaway," said Louis. Harry nodded, agreeing.

"I was really upset. Upset enough to just ride off, leavin' what little I owned behind," Louis said, and Harry knew Louis was likely continually adding to what he remembered just from talking about it.

"Didn't even think to take me wallet or phone! Can you imagine that? I hadn't stolen the saddle, and I thought Mr. Hoffman trusted me, so I was really hurt, but now I can see how he had no choice. He had to let all of us go. There wasn't anythin' else to do."

"Do you remember the ride here?" asked Harry, encouraging Louis to remember more. He was hoping the ultimate question would be answered soon.

"A little. I know I was tired, most of all. But by the end of the first day, I was also hungry and thirsty. By the grace of God, I found places to get a drink of water and also water Monique. But she had to graze in order to eat. I grazed her at night. I rode at least ten miles a day, so it must have taken me three or possibly four days to get to your place. When the clouds rolled in and I heard thunder in the distance, I knew I was screwed. I remember now how the dirt I'd landed in when she spooked had mixed with the rain soakin' me, and turned to mud."

Harry winced. "And then I treated you the way I did. If only I'd known your story . . . did you eat anythin' on your way here?"

"I don't think so." No wonder he'd eaten the rice Harry had offered him so ravenously!

The rest of the boxes held insignificant items, and Louis remembered some of them. His shaver, toothbrush, deodorant, some tee shirts, button-up shirts, jeans, underwear, three pairs of shoes, and socks. Miscellaneous items to temporarily repair a bridle, and a hoof pick and a couple of horse brushes.

"You sure didn't own much," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Well, I'd come over from England, and hadn't bought much because I worked odd jobs, and really couldn't afford an apartment. I stayed in my car a lot," he said sheepishly. "I took a shower at public parks. I looked for a permanent job, and somehow ended up at Mr. Hoffman's ranch. I don't know why I stopped there, but sommat told me to. He said he was short on ranch hands, and we ended up talkin' for hours. We got on well. By the end of that day, he'd hired me. Said he liked me positive attitude and willingness to work hard. He's such a kind man that I think he must've pitied me, to hire me when I had no ranch experience.

"Me car finally died one day, and so I'd drive one of the ranch trucks into town to get supplies and stuff. I think Mr. Hoffman felt sorry for me. Me car conkin' out just gave the other guys more to tease me about, and laugh behind me back. But I was determined, and learned everythin.' Mr. Hoffman said he was proud of me, and that meant a lot to me."

"Do you remember . . . . any relationships?" Harry had been chomping at the bit to ask, but had contained himself. He knew he had to be cautious and not be pushy. He ultimately couldn't hold out any longer.

"Not that I can remember," Louis narrowed his eyes as if he was concentrating hard. "I don't think I had a boyfriend, girlfriend, or a family. None I can remember anyway."

"How'd you end up in Arizona?" was Harry's next question.

"Well, I'm not too sure. I know I hitchhiked at first, then bought the car and drove through California first, but it's on the expensive side to live there, so I started drivin' east, and found Mr. Hoffman, and there I stayed."

Louis was about to throw the third box over by the other two to throw away tomorrow when he felt something hard on the bottom. He pulled it out, peering closely at it and gasping.

"What?" asked Harry, noting it looked like another picture frame.

"Look, Haz! It's me with a lady again. Only this is a different lady!"

Harry saw a Louis who was a year or two younger than the first picture with a pretty young woman with long dark hair. The woman was hugging him close to her, and she was kneeling down.

"That's what I remember! A woman kneelin' down and huggin' me!" Louis was excited by this discovery.

"Was this at the foster home?" asked Harry, noting there were no other children in the picture, and the background was different. Louis was sitting mute, staring at it.

Harry waited a few moments, then decided to stick his neck out. "Louis, this . . . this couldn't be your mother, could it?" he was afraid of the shock this might cause Louis.

Louis' cheeks were flushed and he had an expression on his face that told Harry he was in a dreamlike state. "You know, Harry, it could be." He was trying to stay in the moment, but was all but in a trance, staring hard at the picture.

Harry let Louis gaze at the picture without disturbing him. He was silently overjoyed that Louis didn't seem to have a significant other. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about that right now, but he couldn't help himself. He was only human. It would explain why no one had come looking for Louis. The pieces to the puzzle were starting to fit, but what about relatives other than his mother and father? Were there any? Siblings?

About ten minutes later, Louis was still acting a little dazed, but he'd put the picture down for the moment.

"Wanna talk? Or wait until later?" Harry asked.

"It's fine now. We can talk."

Harry slid his arm around Louis' shoulder and squeezed him gently to his side. "Sure?"

Louis nodded.

"Is it okay to change the subject for a minute?"

Louis nodded.

"This Fletcher character," Harry said, thinking Louis might need a short break from the foster discussion. "Did you know him well? Was he someone you'd trust?"

"Didn't know him long enough, why?"

"I just wonder if he had anythin' to do with that saddle disappearin.'"

Louis shrugged. "I have no idea."

Harry plowed his fingers through his hair with the hand that wasn't on Louis' shoulder and shook his head, seemingly in an effort to fluff his hair up, but Louis began to grasp that Harry was unaware of his physical actions; his mind was hard at work.

"What do you feel about you and me askn' Mr. Hoffman if he'd mind if we looked 'round for Fletcher and/or the saddle?"

"No harm in that, I guess."

"Do you know Fletcher's last name?"

Louis drew his eyebrows together in absorption. He was still a little sluggish on the uptake after seeing the picture, and not completely in the moment. "No, don't think so."

"Well, if Mr. Hoffman doesn't mind if we keep an eye out for Fletcher, maybe he wouldn't mind sharin' his last name with us," reasoned Harry.

"We could try. If he's still in the area, he might not be too hard to find. Fletcher isn't a real common name."

"Yeah."

"But if we find him, then what?" asked Louis.

"Good question. I don't know. But maybe we could take it as it comes?"

"Sounds okay to me. Can't hurt anyway."

"Okay. I think that's enough talkin' about this for tonight. Louis, if that woman is your mum, I want you to know that she was really pretty."

"I think so too," and Louis grinned, but a full smile didn't develop. Harry knew he was still wondering about his mother and what had happened to her. Completely understandable.

"I don't think she'd give me up. Not from the looks of that picture," Louis indicated the picture now sitting on the kitchen table.

"I'm with you on that."

"Harry, do you think we can somehow get ahold of my foster records, or whatever they call it?"

"I sure hope we can, although it might be a process. But we have your birth certificate, so you can prove who you are," Harry smiled, and the two of them shared a kind of peace, a relief that, at last, Louis was gaining an identity, and they were that much closer to knowing the whole truth, with the help also of Louis' memory improving by the day.

The fact remained though, that he'd been very young when the pictures had been taken. Most people don't remember a significant amount of their history under the age of eight, on average. So there would still be questions Louis couldn't answer without getting the foster records. Harry agreed with him that it was essential they gain access to them.

In the following days, Louis remembered friends he'd had in Doncaster, England and told Harry about the jobs he'd held – all of them temporary, and hardly paying enough for him to buy gas for the cheap car he'd picked up. The foster families had supported him, but he proved to be too unruly for them to handle. So he'd been shuffled around a lot. He'd bought another car once he'd made it to America. He'd trimmed bushes, washed cars, patched holes in driveways, and he'd even flipped burgers for a while.

"Why didn't you stay in England?" Harry wanted to know.

"There was nothin' for me there. And I'd always dreamed of comin' to America to live."

Well then, maybe he didn't have any relatives, Harry mused.

"I was waitin' for more memories to come back, so I'd have more to go on, you know, in case the foster home asked me things if I got the courage to call them; things that I should know but don't remember, but I think I need to get started on this sooner rather than later. I can't remember me parents, or if I have siblins,' so were you serious about findin' me foster records?"

"Of course I was, Lou. I didn't know you thought about it seriously before. I was just waitin' on you. We can go into town where there's better cell reception and call Doncaster information to find out where the nearest foster home is."

Louis had been worked up and flustered over this for the last few days, and they hadn't made love until tonight, although they'd spooned each other at night. Harry had sensed Louis being ill at ease and so he hadn't made any advances toward him. He understood – Louis' mind must be in turmoil. And he wanted Louis to know he was there for him, sex or not.

They went into town and called England the next day. Louis was so wound up that he was sweating and shivering at the same time. Harry felt sharp empathy for him. They sat in the truck, and were successful in getting the number of the probable foster home that Louis had been in.

But when they called the foster home, they were informed that Louis would have to appear in person and present his ID in the form of his original birth certificate and Driver's license. Louis told them he was residing in the U.S., and that seemed to throw them off. Apparently they didn't often get requests for records from out of the country.

At this point, Harry had the sinking feeling that this was going to be more difficult than they had anticipated.

One bit of good news was that, even though Louis had been out of the system for ten years, this particular foster home had records going back that far. So Louis had just barely made it under the wire. Most foster homes only had records going back seven years.

Louis asked if there was any way he could fax them a copy of his birth certificate and have the records sent to him, but he was denied. They needed to see the original birth certificate in person.

At this point, Louis was close to tears. Harry grabbed the phone and took over, seeing the state he was in.

"My mother lives in England. Is there any way she can bring you the original birth certificate and get the records?" I can mail it to her, or to you," he asked the woman on the phone. He was prepared to send it to whomever, but even as he asked, he was 99 percent sure they would say no, that Louis would have to be present himself. They couldn't afford a trip to England at the moment, and Harry knew how eager and even desperate Louis was to have the records. He needed closure – he needed to know what had happened to his parents and any other family members.

The woman iterated that Louis would indeed have to be present. When out of desperation, Harry asked if any information could be revealed on the telephone about the parents of the foster child, he was, of course, told there was absolutely no way that would be happening.

Harry accepted that. They couldn't be releasing records or information to just anyone. There were legal procedures they had to follow, and after she said there was nothing she could do, he had thanked the woman for her help, said goodbye and rang off, turning to Louis with a heavy heart.

He didn't need to explain, though. The phone had been on speaker, so Louis had heard all of it. They were sitting in the truck when Louis dissolved into tears.

"I . . . I can't . . . go through life not knowin' what happened to me parents!" he wailed, and all Harry could do was to hold him.