Brian finds out more about his uncle's estate when his attorney pays him a visit. How will it change his future? Doug realizes the full severity of what he has done.
oOoOoO
Five Hours Later...
Doc Kesterson watched as his son signed the transcribed statement with shaky hands. He could tell Doug was exhausted, both mentally and physically; so was he. It had been heart wrenching watching his only child admit to being the pawn of some shady, underground group of men intent on wreaking havoc, heartbreak, and grief on others, merely out of greed. Greed as well as desperation, however, could be a powerful weapon, and the catalyst for some horrific deeds, not the least of which had been causing the death of a young man who had been so full of promise. Even though he had already been aware of Doug being involved, to hear his own son describe the lengths to which the others were going to ensure success was mind boggling as well as frightening. And to hear him describe his actions, albeit as a not-so-willing accomplice, was astonishing as he listened with dismay to his only child's account of what he had done.
Doug had first encountered the sinister, shadowy cartel at the track in Lexington, where he had often traveled to bet on the horses there, seeking the adrenalin rush that occurred within him whenever he happened to sporadically strike it rich. The feeling was always temporary, however, and the desperation that resulted afterward fueled his vulnerability when he confided in one of the groomsmen at the track about his dilemma, who in turn introduced him to the group that would become an integral part of his life for the next several years.
Once he had borrowed money from them, it was like he was stuck in quicksand, so mired in his involvement and his gambling addiction that there was no escaping it. They were ruthless men; men used to using force or the threat of actual death to keep their lackeys in line. Doug's confession about his involvement with them could very well spell death to him, even in prison. Their power was far reaching. But the alternative was no better out on the streets, now that he had revealed some of their information, so in a way he was relieved to finally have it all out in the open. As he peered over and observed the sorrowful, disappointed look on his father's face, however, he realized he had committed a far worse crime. It would be a long time - if at all - before his father would ever trust him again.
The entire story regarding the sordid years leading up to where he was now poured out of his mouth like a flood. How he had rigged the Walker boy's sully wheels to come loose during his last race, how he had also stolen some more of his father's ketamine out of his medical bag - much like he had done with Justin - and how he had tried initially to slip some into Dale's water bottle, too, only to fail when another rider had decided to pay the Walker boy a visit just before the race was to start. Being afraid that somehow he would be detected and be connected to the sabotage - and being scared shitless of what the shadowy loan sharks would do to him if they found out he had bungled their orders - he had opted for Plan B; a decision that had left one talented, young man dead, and another vulnerable one irrevocably broken beyond redemption. And how one man - an enigmatic person by the name of Marty McComb - had been the ringleader behind it all, and wielded his power by intimidation and by threat of death to any who dare oppose him.
Billy nodded as he picked the signed paper up. "You're making the right decision, Doug," he quietly assured him. "You very well may be saving some other lives by helping to get these lowlifes off the street."
Doug exhaled a shuddery breath as his father squeezed his shoulder. "I wish I had never placed my first bet. Or met them."
Despite what he had done, Billy couldn't help feeling sorry for this kid who had obviously gotten in over his head, and he could clearly see the turmoil the Doc was going through. He knew his old friend had done everything he could to raise his son right; unfortunately, as was often the case, the kid had simply gotten in with the round crowd. Peer pressure could be damn persuasive, and teenagers, especially, would do anything if it meant they could fit in with the rest. Once Doug had begun to travel down that path, apparently there was no turning back.
But even though he felt sympathy toward him, he was also the law, the enforcer of rules. And the kid's actions were simply too grave and too serious to warrant a simple slap on the wrist.
The Doc took a deep breath, rousing Billy from his inner thoughts. "Now what happens?" he asked quietly, his hand still clamped on his son's shoulder.
The county prosecutor cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Your son will need to plead guilty to the lesser charges, and we will recommend the lighter sentence - after we have apprehended the ringleader and his cronies. That is the bargain," he reminded them, eying the Kesterson boy intently.
"But I have no control over whether or not you'll be able to bring them in!" Doug pointed out, his face awash with apprehension. "How do you think they've managed to stay under the radar for this long? They're not going to just turn themselves in!"
"I'm well aware of that, young man," McFarland replied tersely. "And I didn't say it would be easy. But the agreement is that you provide information that leads to their apprehension, and then testify against them. If those two stipulations are not met, then the agreement is null and void. Take it, or leave it. Your choice. I can still rip up this agreement right now if you prefer. But then bear in mind, we will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law."
Doug sighed heavily. "Do you think I have a choice?" he retorted. "But you don't know who you're dealing with! They will KILL me if you don't find them! And McComb...he may still do that. I won't be safe, even in prison." His eyes filled with tears. "Oh, my God. What have I gotten myself into? I never meant for any of this to get this far."
"You should have thought about that a long time ago, Son," McFarland replied curtly. He wasn't totally unsympathetic to the young man's plight, either, but he had learned a long time ago that in order to do his job, he had to remain detached. "The best I can do is recommend that you be held in a facility separate from McComb and his other men. This is your last chance to back out. What will it be?"
Doug huffed derisively. "You already have my statement," he pointed out. "And there's no way I can go back out on the street, not now." He sighed heavily. "All right, all right; I will testify against them as part of the deal. Satisfied now?"
McFarland and Billy exchanged a look before Billy shook his head and replied, "No, Son. Neither one of us will be satisfied until all of these men are in jail, and they can't hurt anyone anymore." He turned to the Doc to advise him, "We will keep your son in protective custody until the other men are apprehended, and we meet before the judge."
The Doc nodded grimly, wishing all of this could just be a bad dream. And in a way it was; only it was a nightmare he and his son would never awake from.
Two Days Later - Morning - Walker Farm
The unexpected sound of someone knocking on their back door momentarily startled Sarah, Will, and Brian as they finished their breakfast.
"Land sakes!" Sarah cried out, clutching her hand to her chest briefly; normally they could hear someone approaching, but somehow this person managed to defy that norm. "Scared the dickens out of me!" She wiped her mouth with her napkin before scooting back from her chair to see who was at the back door.
Brian smiled in amusement over her choice of words. He was slowly becoming accustomed to some of the unusual phrasing he heard, but occasionally his aunt or uncle still came up with some new ones. Sometimes, he almost thought he was living on another planet, even now.
His heart sped up as he watched his aunt walk over and open the back screen door, issuing a greeting to Jennifer and Craig Taylor - and then Justin. His eyes immediately latched onto the younger boy the moment he and his parents walked into the room, and he noted with a certain sense of satisfaction that Justin was doing the same. It had been two days since he had seen him; two days too long.
"Jennifer! Craig! Justin! Please come in. Would you care for some coffee? I have some of my homemade blueberry muffins."
The trio stood just inside the door as Justin's parents both shook their heads. "No, thanks, Sarah," Jennifer told her. "We just finished breakfast ourselves." She held out two Mason jars with a red-and-white gingham patterned top, tied with a twine bow. "I brought you some of my honey. I thought you might be running low, and could use some more." She made a point of providing her neighbor with some of her honey throughout the summer, being rewarded with some amazing desserts from Sarah later on as a token of her appreciation.
"Yes, I could!" Sarah cried out in delight as she accepted the two jars. "Thank you, Jennifer! You're too kind." Jennifer nodded back with a smile as Sarah eyed the youngest Taylor boy. "Justin, surely you're not going to refuse one of my blueberry muffins?" She knew that was one of his favorites.
She noticed him smiling back at her as he reluctantly tore his gaze away from Brian to reply politely, "No, ma'am. I'd love one." She nodded, pleased, as she reached over and handed him one. "Thank you," he replied with a smile, as he took a bite from off the top. "These are great," he told her, his mouth half-full.
She laughed. "You're welcome. Why don't we all go into the living room, and sit down?"
Brian pushed his chair back from the table, his uncle doing the same, as he furiously thought of a way to be alone with Justin. He had no idea why all the Taylors were here - probably to offer up some sympathy to his aunt and uncle over what had been happening recently regarding Dale - but he figured it couldn't have anything to do with him. He thought this would be a perfect time, then, to head outside for a little alone time with Justin. "Uh...if you won't be needing us, Aunt Sarah, I'd like to show Justin the new project I'm working on." He had found out that he actually enjoyed working in carpentry since he had arrived here; his uncle had been teaching him how to accurately measure wood for building, and how to operate the various tools required, and when his uncle had mentioned how badly they were in need of a new chicken coop, he had volunteered to build it. Over the past few days, he had found it to be both relaxing and enjoyable, not to mention it provided him with a certain sense of satisfaction to watch something come together out of virtually nothing. It was far from the excitement of working on sportscars, or racing them, but he was finding it to be interesting nonetheless, and it made him feel useful, especially after everything his parents had said about him. That still stung, even though he knew they had no right to say what they did. But it still didn't make all the hurt go away. However, as he peered over at his aunt and uncle - and then Justin - he did not feel the pain so intensely. They had helped enormously to deaden the anguish he had felt before. And to know now that Justin loved him; that made everything that much better.
To his surprise and disappointment, his aunt shook her head. "No, you definitely need to stay; this is about you."
"Huh?" Brian frowned; had he heard that right?
She nodded her head. "Come on," she urged him and the others. "We'll be more comfortable in the living room."
"Now...I'm assuming this is not just some social call." Will surmised as Craig nodded his head. They had all found seats on either the couch or the two overstuffed chairs, with the exception of Brian and Justin, who were leaning against the far wall as they stood side-by-side. Brian longed to reach over and grasp Justin's hand, to touch him anywhere, but he felt too awkward in front of the other boy's parents to do it - at least just yet.
"You're correct," Craig answered then in confirmation, turning to peer over at Brian briefly before fixing his gaze back on the other man. "Your wife didn't tell you?"
Will frowned as he turned to his wife. "Something you forgot to tell me, Sarah?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head. "Not really. Not much to tell. Since Craig has a background in accounting - and helped us make up our wills for Clyde to record - I thought that maybe he could help Brian by contacting his uncle's attorney." Clyde Barton was an attorney in town; in fact, the only attorney in town. "But that's as far as it went," she assured him, as she peered over at her neighbor. "Did you find out something, Craig?"
"Well, I contacted Clyde, since he and I have known each other for some time now, and he was also good friends with my father-in-law," he explained as Jennifer nodded in agreement; her father and Clyde were the same age, and had practically grown up together. "He did some research to determine who the attorney was for the estate, and contacted him. He should be here any minute to go over the will in detail."
Brian's eyes grew wide. "Attorney? He's coming here?" He hadn't forgotten what his parents had said about his uncle's estate when they had visited the other day, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind. He knew they had been under the impression that his uncle had left him a substantial amount in his will, but after they left he began to question just how much was fact and how much was assumption. They did not keep in touch with his uncle very much; so how did they know how affluent he was at the time of his death? For all THEY knew, he might have squandered his money somehow, and been worth a lot less than they thought he was. But the fact that the attorney was making a special trip here to speak with him made him wonder.
"Yeah," Craig replied. He glanced up at the clock above the arched doorway. "Should have been here about ten minutes ago, in fact." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the crunch of gravel could be heard, growing louder and louder, indicating an approaching car.
"I'll go check," Will offered, as he rose from his place on the couch and headed down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Fuck it, Brian abruptly decided, feeling anxious as he reached over to clasp Justin's hand, feeling the other boy gripping his tightly in return. The two exchanged a look as they heard a male voice greeting Brian's uncle, and then the screen door squeaking as it was swung open. A few seconds later, two pairs of footsteps headed down the short hallway toward the living room.
A tall, distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, carrying a black, leather briefcase and wearing a dark suit - looking decidedly out of place in the middle of the country - appeared in the doorway as Will announced, "This is Walter Davis. He's the attorney for Brian's uncle."
"Hello, everyone," he greeted them smoothly, looking around the room. His eyes settled on the two boys standing near the wall, their hands clasped together, and he immediately decided the taller of the two boys had to be his client's beneficiary; there was a distinct resemblance between them. "Are you Brian Kinney?" he asked.
Brian nodded mutely.
"Good. You're the one I need to speak to, then," he explained in a businesslike manner. He paused. "Do you prefer to discuss this in private?" he asked.
Brian studied the others peering over at him curiously. He felt Justin silently squeezing his hand, providing him with the courage to finally act, as he shook his head. "No," he told the older man firmly. "They can hear what you have to say."
He nodded. "Very well, then. May I?" he asked, pointing toward an empty chair near the coffee table.
"Of course. Where are my manners?" Sarah exclaimed; she had been so caught up in what was happening that she had forgotten her normal custom when it came to guests. "I'm Sarah Walker, Brian's aunt. Let me introduce you to the others here."
The man smiled his thanks at her, shaking hands as Jennifer, Craig, and Justin were introduced to him, before Sarah urged him to sit in their rocker recliner. As soon as the formalities had been dispensed with, Mr. Davis sat down and unlatched his briefcase to pull out a legal-sized folder with several papers inside.
"I can read this over to you line by line, Mr. Kinney," Davis advised Brian politely, unable to help noticing the young man his client was presently holding hands with; he was long past the point, however, where he felt it was his place to judge, so it really did not faze him. "But to be frank, it's mainly a bunch of legalese that can be summarized quite easily. You will be given a complete copy of your uncle's will when I finish, also. Do you want the full version, then, or the condensed one?"
"You can just cut to the chase," Brian informed him simply as the man nodded.
"Very well, then. Your uncle and I went way back. And through the years, not only did I serve him as official legal counsel for his business transactions, but he often asked for my advice regarding his private investments as well. Your uncle was a very shrewd businessman, and his holdings at the time of his death were quite substantial." He glanced down at the paper in front of him - seemingly verifying what he was about to say - before he advised Brian, "Mr. Kinney was an enthusiastic proponent of environmental causes, and felt the need to leave a generous trust account for the Lake Evelyn Conservation Fund in New York. I understand the two of you used to do a lot of fishing up there when you were younger. Your uncle often spoke fondly of those times - and of you, Mr. Kinney."
Brian nodded back silently in reaction, a lump in his throat. Until now he hadn't realized how much he had treasured those moments with his uncle - and how much he had missed him. His uncle had been the one, bright spot in his childhood, and he had looked forward to those trips more than he could ever express. When he had lost touch with his uncle, his world had turned a lot more dismal. He had often thought that his father might have had something to do with that out of some jaded sense of jealousy over the bond he had developed with his uncle; now, with everything he now knew, he was more certain than ever that he had been right.
The attorney cleared his throat then, jolting Brian out of his sentimental reverie as he glanced over at him to refocus his attention on the matter at hand.
"Anyway, as I way saying, your uncle was very fond of you, Brian. He wrote a letter that he instructed me to hold for you." Brian's eyes widened in surprise as he watched the attorney produce a plain, white, business-size envelope from his briefcase. "I was told to only give it to you upon his death," he explained, as he rose to his feet and headed over to Brian. He noticed Brian's hand tremble slightly as he accepted the letter and stared down at the crisp, white lettering on the front of the envelope with his name neatly written in cursive. He instantly recognized his uncle's bold, elegant handwriting as he stared down at the last memento he would ever have from the man who had helped make his childhood just a bit more bearable.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Justin asked softly by his side, as Brian continued to silently stare down at it.
Brian took a deep breath before he unexpectedly turned to his uncle to ask, "Would you read it? Please?"
His uncle appeared a little surprised by the request, but nonetheless he nodded as he rose from his chair nearby and walked over to take the envelope from his nephew. Standing next to Brian, he carefully tore along the end of the envelope and slid the white piece of paper out to unfold it as he began to read it aloud:
Dear Brian,
I remember very fondly the times we spent alone together at my cabin, and all the wonderful fishing expeditions we took each summer as you were growing up, although to my consternation, you were frequently the better fisherman than I.
Brian smiled in remembrance as his uncle paused to take a breath; he recalled how often their dinner depended upon his skill - or was it luck? - in snaring a bass or two during the day. And while they had both used worms as bait, it was normally him who wound up with the biggest catch by the time they had returned from one of the rocky points that ringed the lake and were ideal for the small-mouthed species. Eventually, their friendly competition over who could catch the most netted him a new fishing rod for his troubles; one that to this day he still stored in the back of his parents' garage. Now he wished somehow that he had brought it with him. Of course, when he had left, he never dreamed it might be the last time he would be returning there.
He focused his mind back on the present as his uncle resumed reading the letter:
At the risk of sounding arrogant, Brian, I was a very astute businessman over the years, and I never regretted treating each person I dealt with in an honorable manner. What I DO regret, however, was not staying in touch with you, even when my brother demanded that I cease all contact with you. I will always feel badly about that, because I always sensed that you needed something that you were not receiving under your parents' care, and perhaps someone to confide in. But Jack was your father, so I felt that I needed to abide by his wishes.
Brian's eyes narrowed in anger as he realized his fears had been correct; his father had been responsible for his losing touch with his Uncle Dave. All along, he had been led to believe that he and his uncle had drifted apart merely due to him moving away and no longer wanting to stay in touch. Apparently there had been a more insidious reason at work. "That motherfucker," he growled under his breath, unable to keep his anger in check.
"You have a concern, Mr. Kinney?" the attorney asked as everyone peered over at Brian; only Justin had overheard what he had said.
Brian huffed. "Nothing I want to say aloud," he finally replied. "I want to hear the rest." The attorney nodded then as Will continued to read:
Now, if you are reading this, you know that I am no longer on this Earth, but have hopefully moved onto more glorious rewards; more than any amount of money could ever buy. But that does not mean that I cannot provide the financial means to help my nephew achieve his hopes and dreams. While I was always of the mind that money does NOT buy happiness - if it did, I would have married and had several children - I CAN tell you that I was never happier than when we spent time together. I am hopeful that this gift to you, then, will remind you of those times, and I know you will bear well the responsibility that comes with this gift. May it always BE a gift, Brian, and not a burden. Affectionately yours, Uncle Dave.
Will carefully folded the paper and slid it back into the envelope before silently handing it to his nephew, his face reflecting the sympathy he - and everyone else - presently felt. Brian nodded his thanks, sniffling to hold back some tears that threatened to fall - before he placed it in his jeans pocket for safekeeping.
Justin squeezed his hand again as Brian briefly leaned against him, the other boy trying somehow to offer the support Brian needed without voicing it aloud. Brian let go of his hand after a few seconds to slide his own around the other boy's waist, pulling him closer, as Justin did the same, his own eyes glistening. If Brian hurt, he hurt, and it was clearly obvious by the look on Brian's face that he was deeply affected by the letter.
Davis cleared his throat again to get everyone's attention as he informed them, "Now...in conjunction with that letter, Mr. Kinney, and in deference to your wishes, I'm going to give the condensed version of what is contained in your uncle's will. Apart from a 10% endowment to the Lake Evelyn Conservation Fund, the remainder of my client's estate has been bequeathed to you. There is a stipulation, however. You will initially be given control of 10% of the bequeathed amount, with the remainder placed in a trust account until you turn 21. At that point, you are free to use the money as you see fit."
No one had a chance to ask what was uppermost on everyone's mind before Davis informed them, "As of today, the amount of the estate - minus the donation to the conservation fund - stands in excess of three million dollars. So according to the conditions in the will, you are presently entitled to 10% of that - or $300,000. I would suggest you consult with a trusted attorney or CPA to determine how best to handle this amount, and to lessen the tax burden. Also, I will need to know how you wish for the funds to be distributed, and where you want the funds deposited."
Brian's face turned ashen as he stood there, his mouth agape in stunned disbelief. "Wh...What?" He stammered. "Did you say...$300,000?"
Mr. Davis nodded solemnly as he folded his hands on the briefcase. "Yes, that would be correct. The actual amount will fluctuate slightly, since part of your uncle's estate is diversified into several stocks, but that should be fairly accurate. The exact amount will depend upon the day the funds are transferred into your name."
Brian suddenly felt sick. "I think I need to sit down," he murmured as his aunt scooted over on the couch to make room for him. He walked over and sat down next to her, placing his elbows on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands. $300,000. He couldn't even imagine it. And there would be more when he turned 21; a LOT more. He had no idea how to handle that type of wealth. No wonder his parents wanted to get their hands on his uncle's estate!
"You don't have to do anything now," the attorney quietly instructed him, realizing how overwhelmed the young man must be. "But I will need to transfer the funds within a week of the will being officially filed with the court. So I recommend that you find someone you can trust to counsel you on your next move. And I would think about getting a personal financial advisor as well, especially when you turn 21. Until then, I will be overseeing your trust account, and ensuring that it is kept safe. You alone will have access to it at the appropriate time."
Brian lifted his head to peer over at him. "Maybe you could..." he began, but the man shook his head regretfully.
"No, I wouldn't feel right handling your funds," he was told. "Not after being your uncle's attorney. For propriety's sake, it is best you find someone else. And someone closer to where you live here would be best, I think. That way, you can meet with this person on a frequent basis to keep apprised of how the funds are being properly managed." Pulling out several other sheets of paper from the folder, he stated, "Here is a certified copy of your uncle's will for your records; the original document will be filed with the State of New York." He placed the folder down on the coffee table as he snapped his briefcase closed and rose to stand. "Now I really must be going," he informed them. "I need to head back to Lexington. I'm on the evening fight back to New York City." The others, too, rose to stand as he took a few moments to shake their hands before, briefcase in hand, he turned to go. "Good luck, Son," he told Brian. "I know it's a big responsibility, but your uncle felt you would be able to handle it. If I can be of any further help, my business card is on the coffee table in the folder. Please don't hesitate to contact me." As Sarah made to join him, he politely shook his head. "I'll walk myself out, Ma'am. Thank you all for your hospitality." With one final nod, he turned and walked down the short hallway toward the backdoor, returning to his vehicle. A few minutes later, the sound of his car proceeding back down the road could be heard before the sound disappeared entirely.
"Holy shit," Brian couldn't help murmuring as he sat down in a daze, still trying to digest what the attorney had just told him. He remained on the couch, hands on his knees, as he peered down at the folder below. He shook his head. "I don't believe it." He felt his aunt's hand slowly rubbing circles on his back to try and calm him, but his stomach was doing somersaults.
For once Will or Sarah did not move to admonish their nephew regarding his language; not this time. They - and everyone else in the room - were as shocked as he was. "Well, I never..." Sarah murmured as she continued to stroke Brian's back comfortingly. She was thinking much the same thing as Brian was. No wonder Joan and Jack had been intent on coming to visit him. She also wondered if they knew exactly how much money was involved. No matter WHO the benefactor was, this was a substantial amount. And the attorney was correct; it was an awesome responsibility to place on such a young man's shoulders, and he would need guidance on how best to utilize it. At least now they would not have to worry about Brian's welfare from a financial viewpoint, anyway, nor would he have to return home if he didn't want to. That didn't lessen the pain of what his parents had done, however.
"Brian, I know this is all a big shock," she began. "And I'm sure you don't need to do something right away. But Mr. Davis is right. You will need to find someone to help you handle your finances now." She peered over at Craig then as she advised her nephew, "That's the main reason why I asked for Craig's help. I thought with his accounting background, he could either help you himself, or at least recommend someone reliable to assist you. He generously agreed to come over and provide whatever help he could for you, and to see if he could reach your uncle's attorney. I told that you were apparently the beneficiary of your uncle's estate; but that was all the information I gave him."
Brian nodded, a little surprised that Justin's father had wanted to help him. But he was still grateful - and glad that Craig Taylor was slowly beginning to accept him being around his son; if he didn't feel that way, he highly doubted that he would have agreed to help him - unless he thought there was some financial gain to be derived. That would certainly blunt his impression of the man. To his relief, however, he soon found out that the man's motives were pure.
"I'll be glad to offer whatever advice I can," Craig told him quietly. "But I most likely will need to refer you to one of the estate attorneys in Lexington. They would be the best resource for you regarding what to do with the funds." Craig couldn't help feeling just a twinge of envy for what Brian was about to receive; after all, they were barely making ends meet each month. But his son's respect was worth more than any amount of money, and if it meant barely staying afloat each month at the expense of losing that, then there was no question which one he would choose. He still hoped, however, that a new job would be on the horizon. So far, though, the interviews were few and far between.
"Thank you," Brian told him softly, still reeling from what he had just learned. He glanced over at Justin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. "I'd...like to get some fresh air," he told the others present, as he rose to his feet. "Justin, take a walk with me?" he asked, relieved when Justin gave him a half-smile and nodded his head. Extending his hand out to him, Justin placed his smaller hand in his as they turned and headed out the front door together and onto the porch.
A few seconds of silence prevailed before Will was the first one to speak. "That is quite a responsibility to place on his shoulders," he stated. "Money can do strange things to folks. And not always in a good way."
"Brian won't let that happen to him," Sarah vowed. "He's too level-headed." Her eyes full of concern, she wondered what the future would hold now. She had come to love her nephew dearly; she didn't care if he was financially comfortable, or didn't have a penny to his name. But the thought of him leaving left her feeling decidedly sorrowful.
"I hope you're right, Missy," Will replied quietly. He, too, had become fond of their nephew. Yes, he had helped to fill the void that Dale had left in their hearts, but as they had already explained to him Brian was not a replacement for him. He was his own man, and he had grown up a great deal while under their care. He was just selfish enough - and cared enough about his nephew - to hopefully be present to see just what sort of man he had yet to become.
"Craig, thank you for coming over here. The decision is up to Brian, but I think he's definitely going to need some help with his inheritance."
"I'll do what I can," he told Sarah. It's not really in my area of expertise, but I do know a couple of attorneys in Lexington that I think are trustworthy as well as reasonable when it comes to their fees. If Brian wants me to, I can contact them and set up consultations with them to see which one he prefers."
"Thank you," Sarah responded. "If you will get their contact information, I'll talk to him about that."
Craig nodded back at her. "I'll do that." He peered over at Jennifer. "I think we'd best be going. I have a lot of chores to get done today."
Jennifer nodded. "Yes, we'd best be getting back." She smiled. "And feel free to send our son home when he wears out his welcome."
Sarah chuckled. "Your son is welcome here anytime; you know that," she assured her friend. "Besides," she added softly, "I think he's needed here right now. And I don't think our nephew is wanting him to leave just yet."
Craig and Jennifer shared a look before he replied, "No, I reckon not. Come on, then, Jen; we'd better go."
"Thank you both," Will spoke up as Justin's parents nodded.
"That's what neighbors do," Craig replied simply; grasping Jennifer's hand, he nodded in farewell before the two headed down the hallway to the back door, finally leaving Will and Sarah alone.
"So many things happening, Missy," Will murmured as he gazed out the front living room window, his callused hands jammed in his overall pockets. He observed his nephew and the Taylor boy sitting in the front porch swing, their bodies pressed close together as they slowly swayed back and forth, their hands clasped between them. It would have been quite easy for them to realize they were being watched, but at the moment they only had eyes for each other.
"Yes," Sarah agreed as she threaded her arm between her husband's, noticing the two boys who were presently lost in their own world. She smiled, despite all the turmoil surrounding them. "They balance each other out," she commented. "They're good for each other, William."
"I reckon so," Will conceded as he continued to study the two boys. "Still hard for me to understand it," he conceded gruffly. "But I can't deny it seems real enough."
"It's real, all right," Sarah replied softly, unable to keep her eyes off the two boys. "Will?"she asked after a brief pause.
"Yes?"
"You think Brian will stay? Now that he doesn't need to? With all that money, he could go anywhere he wanted to. He's not really a country boy. Why would he stay here, then?"
"Part of the reason is sitting right out there," her husband declared.
Sarah nodded. "Yes. But Justin will be heading off to school next year."
"True," he agreed. "But maybe you're not giving that boy enough credit."
She frowned as she turned to face him. "What do you mean?"
"People can change, Sarah. And I think Brian has changed a lot since he came here. He's done a lot of growing up."
Sarah couldn't help smiling, despite some of the sad memories that had been conjured up during the week.
"What are you smiling about, Missy?" Will asked gruffly, noticing the odd look she was giving him.
"You," she responded. "You've changed, too, you know. And your opinion of our nephew has changed, too, since he first came here."
Her husband shrugged as he glanced back out the window at the two boys perched on the porch swing. "He's earned my respect," he confirmed. "He may not have been born a country boy, Sarah. But he has the heart of one." He let out a breath before deciding, "I don't know what he will do."
"But you hope he stays, just like I do."
Will slid his arm around his wife's waist. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I do." Leaning down to kiss his wife briefly on the cheek, he gently steered her toward the doorway. "Now come on, Missy. The chores won't take care of themselves."
Taking one last look at Brian and Justin, she nodded as they turned and headed back down the hallway toward the kitchen.
"I still can't believe it," Brian murmured as the two of them continued to sway slowly back and forth, the swing emitting a creaking noise each time. In an odd way, Brian found the sound strangely comforting. Since he had come to live here, he had discovered things like that, little things, that he found soothing; even the rooster who used to drive him crazy when he crowed so early in the morning had become a routine part of his life now. He glanced over at his companion. "You're awfully quiet."
Justin lifted his head to look him in the eyes and tried his best to smile despite the worries flooding his mind and his heart aching. "You know you could do anything now, Brian; be anything. Go anywhere you want to go, with that kind of money." He bit his lip anxiously, too afraid to put his greatest fear into words as he averted his gaze downward, staring at his and Brian's hands twined between them, and feeling the warmth that radiated from the other boy. It reminded him of the day when they had sat in his family's swing on the back porch, and Brian had kissed him so passionately. They had shared many kisses since then; all of them amazing. Brian was amazing, and he knew he was falling deeper in love with him more and more every day. Was that all about to end, however? His pulse raced as Brian reached over with his other hand to grip his chin and turn his head to make him look him in the eyes.
"Yeah, I guess I could," he murmured as Justin's face fell. "But even if I had all the money in the world, I wouldn't want to go anywhere else." He slid his hand to the side of Justin's face and caressed his cheek with the back of his hand.
Justin's eyes widened; dare he hope? "You wouldn't?" he whispered. "But you told me yourself; you don't belong here. You're used to city life. Speed. Excitement." He snorted. "The fair is the most excitement we ever have around here. Why would you want to stay here, then, in this sleepy town?"
"Justin, don't you get it?" Brian told him in disbelief, his hazel eyes boring into his. "What did I tell you the other day? What did YOU tell me the other day?"
The blond's face warmed as he recalled their lovemaking - and the confession he had made; that Brian had made. "I told you that...that I love you."
Brian nodded. "And?"
Justin licked his lips nervously. "...And you told me that you loved me, too." He would never forget that; not in a million years, no matter where Brian went.
"That's right. Did you mean what you said?"
"Of course I did," was the slightly offended response. "You know I did. I've never told anyone that I loved them before. You don't think I meant it?"
Brian smiled then. "Yeah, I think you meant it." Justin blushed. "Well, I meant it, too. And that's why I have no intention of leaving here. Well, that and the fact that I have actually come to respect my aunt and uncle. This isn't an easy life out here; I realize that now. But...it does have its advantages." He stared into the beautiful, expressive, topaz-colored eyes; the eyes that truly were the windows to the other boy's soul. He could read every emotion in them, every hope and dream of his in those eyes. "Justin, this is where I want to be. As strange as it sounds, I feel like I was meant to be here. Like I belong here." He turned his head to gaze out at the rolling hills surrounding the farm, admiring the grandeur, the simplicity of the landscape, hearing the faraway sound of one of the cows grazing in the pasture, and the distant blowing of a train horn somewhere. It was so peaceful here, so...pure. Exhilarating in a way to his soul. He could breathe out here, be himself out here. And he felt loved; for the first time in his life. Perhaps that was the greatest treasure of all that he had discovered during his journey here.
He turned his attention back to his companion then, noticing Justin watching him closely as he smiled a little sheepishly, wondering if he should have spoken all that sort of poetic musing aloud. He shook his head. "No, Justin. I don't care if I could buy the entire fucking town of Pittsburgh; if my aunt and uncle will have me, I want to stay here. With them. With you." He reached over to wipe a lone tear that had silently fallen onto Justin's cheek as he leaned over to brush the other boy's lips with his. Pulling back slightly, he whispered, "I do love you, Justin Taylor."
Justin sucked in a breath as his mouth widened into a relieved smile. "Brian...I...I do, too."
Brian nodded. "Let's go for that walk," he suggested as Justin nodded back at him. "Maybe we can go tip some more cows."
Justin's laughter sounded in the air as they headed toward the stables, Brian's arm resting protectively around his waist.
Fifteen Minutes Later...
"Do you miss it, Brian?" The two boys had their arms folded on top of the wooden split rail fence of the paddock as they watched True Blue and Headstrong grazing nearby.
Brian turned his head. "Miss what?"
"The excitement. The faster pace of the city. The rush you must feel."
Brian half-smiled, his eyes a little far-off looking as he thought about it. "Well, riding the range out here on my uncle's tractor isn't quite the same as racing down an empty road in the dead of night in a 'vette, that's for sure." Justin nodded thoughtfully as Brian added, "But that's what got me into trouble in the first place." He turned to look at his companion as he continued. "But if I hadn't gotten into trouble, I would have never met my aunt and uncle...and I would have never met you."
Justin blushed, offering Brian a shy smile. He turned to peer over at True Blue, noticing the horse slowly meandering closer and closer. That was unusual for him, to say the least. Normally the horse shied from anyone who tried to come into contact with him, barely tolerating being led from the paddock back into the stables, and that was only through the temptation of an apple or some other food. And then only Vic could normally handle him. For the horse to voluntarily want to connect with anyone was practically unheard of. He watched in stunned amazement as the majestic but highly independent animal ambled closer until his head was looming directly over Brian, who didn't seem the least bit bothered by it; on the contrary, he seemed fascinated by the animal.
He watched as Brian reached up to stroke the side of True Blue's muzzle and murmur to him. "You coming back over to visit me, Boy?" Brian asked as he peered into the luminous, brown eyes. The horse whinnied softly, but stood completely still as Brian continued to speak to him and lightly rub his hand up and down the horse's neck. "You're not so tough, are you?"
Justin was flabbergasted. "You...I..." he sputtered in disbelief. "I don't..."
Brian laughed. "I think that's the first time you've been rendered incoherent." He casually continued to stroke the horse's neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What?"
Justin shook his head. "Do you remember when I told you that he never allows anyone near him like this; not since Dale died?
Brian nodded as he peered up at the enormous eyes staring back at him. "Yeah, I remember."
"Well, you...he seems so taken with you." Justin stared in wonder at the surreal scene before him. "You know, you resemble Dale a lot; maybe he thinks it's him come back to life. I'm sure he really misses him."
"Not you, too," Brian lamented. "I heard enough of that from dear old Mom and Dad. They said that's the only reason why my aunt and uncle wanted me here."
"Come on! You know what I mean!" Justin growled as Brian nodded; the blond's eyes grew wide when an inspiration hit him. "Brian, you said you miss the excitement of being in a sportscar, and being able to race down the road at top speed. We can't compare to that here...but maybe I could come up with the next best thing."
Brian frowned, his heart quickening at the thought. As much as he had grown fond of living here, the idea of being able to sense that same exhilaration he had felt before was still extremely appealing to him. "What do you have in mind?"
"Something outrageous. Something probably totally outlandish and impossible. But still..."
"Impossible, huh? Outrageous?"
Justin nodded.
Brian grinned widely then, immediately intrigued. "Tell me more."