Family

“Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile, and who love you no matter what.”― Maya Angelou

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4 October 2025

Raymond Fitzgerald drove away from the rental car agency. He had flown in from New York to do research on a story he was working on. He had outlined it and notes from his source materials, but there was something missing. The personal side of the story from a current perspective. He was in contact with some of the family and hoped to meet with one or two of them, maybe the granddaughter living in London if his boss would approve the travel expenses.

With the address plugged into the navigation system, he drove along the route the system directed, taking him south on I-95 for several miles, then exiting for his destination. He drove along the two-lane highway until he came into a small town, one that had seen sporadic growth over the decades. It was the place where everything began. He eased into it seeing how it had changed from the old photographs he had found. Some of the original buildings were torn down for parking lots or new buildings, such as the fast-food restaurant on one corner. He turned on Main Street heading north.

From descriptions in the book, he was surprised he came to the old church so quickly. It was a restaurant, the second or third use since the congregation gave it up. He looked at the dark green painted walls and the outdoor patio area to the south side of it, trying to picture a greenhouse there when it had been a garden center. He knew the interior had changed too much to be of any use to him in getting a visual image of important places in his story.

He climbed back into his rental car and drove north, past the gas station, credit union, and small strip center with a barber shop, vape store, and a Mexican restaurant. He wondered how every place could look the same.

A short distance further north, he saw the drive that cut between a doctor’s office and a hardware store and turned. He knew it was not the original drive, for that one had come out behind the church. He eased along the paved lane, and behind the hardware store it narrowed to a single lane as it entered the woods behind it. It wound through the woods, eventually turning to the north. He followed it, past signs for no trespassing and private property feeling excited to finally be seeing something of importance.

He came to a gate and pulled up close and stopped. He could see the old house through the trees with its porch across most of the front. It was painted white and flowering shrubs lined its foundation of brick piers. He climbed over the gate and walked to it. As he drew near, he saw the front yard had fruit trees growing around it and the whole place was circled by the woods. He realized, looking to the east, the barn was gone.

He walked up the front steps onto the porch where a swing hung at the east end with two wood rocking chairs tilted against the front wall. He looked through the front window looking for a gap in the curtains, then went back to the front door. It was a wood door with windows up high, and he stood on his tiptoes to look in. He saw a living room, average in so many aspects, from the comfortable looking sofa and armchairs, the walls with art and photographs, and on the east wall, the large stone fireplace with a massive timber for a mantel. It was lined with photographs, mostly black and white images. He wished he could get inside to look more closely at them.

He walked around the property, picturing how it must have looked in the beginning before the changes that occurred over the years. It was a place still in the family used as a place to get away and just relax for a few days. He was back at the gate and turned to look at the house one more time. He had come a long way just to look at it and a few other sites that relate to the family, and to do more research at the courthouse. He understood the farm to the south of town Henry had worked at was still in operation with a fifth generation working it. He wanted context and looking back across the manicured lawn to the white house, he felt like he had most important aspect of that context for the story that began ninety-five years ago.

 

15 May 1930

Robert Brown, Robby to his parents and few friends, celebrated his eighteenth birthday walking away from the only home he knew. His parents had died of influenza last year and he had been unable to hold onto the house and the thirty acres it sat upon. He tried to keep up the farm, but the drought had put him in debt, and he was unable to plant for the new year. He had no means of keeping up the place and the bank had taken it, hoping to recoup most of the loans his father had taken out the last two years.

He walked toward town not knowing where else to go. He had a suitcase with his few clothes, a hunting knife, a small blanket, and his most precious possession. The novel The Call of the Wild by Jack London, the library in town had discarded for a newer copy. Slung over his right shoulder, his dad’s Winchester Model 1894.

What am I going to do? he wondered as he moved along the dirt lane.

 

 

Henry Jones finished feeding the cows and shut the barn doors and headed back to town. He saw Jasper McKinley, the owner of the farm, go into his home. Another day had come to an end, and Henry felt inside his pocket to count the few coins he possessed, wondering if he would make it until Jasper paid him again. The crash of the stock market last year was just one more thing that showed how messed up everything had become, only this time, it wasn’t just the poor suffering. His family had been doing better than most until the crash. It took his parents’ savings and ultimately his father’s will to live and made his mother’s illness so much worse, it took her mind.

He knew it was either the fifteenth or sixteenth of May and in a few days, the twenty-first, he would be nineteen. Considered a man by so many, but walking along the road toward town, he didn’t feel like a man. He felt like a lost boy barely holding on.

 

 

Robby wandered around until he felt others could see he was obviously homeless, someone else who lost their home. He had gone down both sides of the street through the small downtown, going past the drugstore, post office, bank, and the gas station on the corner, all businesses that were holding on. Among them the locked buildings that had been a hardware store, a diner, and clothing store. Seeing the closed diner was just another reminder of his hunger. He had twenty-three dollars and knew it had to last him until he found a means of earning money. It was all the money he had managed to hold on to. The sky was beginning to darken, the sun below the western horizon, and he needed to find some kind of shelter.

There was an alley between the closed hardware store and the bank, and he moved down it until behind the trash bins where he propped the rifle against the wall, set his suitcase down and sat, leaning against it. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, but knew sleep would be long in coming.

He stared across the narrow alley at the dirty brick wall. He struggled to process what had happened to him. He knew it was happening to others but sitting in the alley, that gave him no comfort. He wondered about spending twenty cents or so on a bus ticket, because his chances of finding a means of supporting himself in a city had to be better.

A vehicle backfired, shocking him because he initially thought it was a gunshot, but he looked up quick enough to see a Ford Model TT flatbed with a wood canopy over it, motor past.

As the sound of the truck receded, he thought of the news reports out of Atlanta, Columbia, and Montgomery. He would be one of many looking for work and a place to rest at night. He leaned back and for the first time in weeks he let the tears pool in his eyes and trickle down his cheeks.

 

 

Henry heard a truck backfire, and he went to the door that led from storeroom to sales floor, looking out of the dirty partially papered windows to see a Model TT truck motor past. He eased back into the darkness of the storeroom, closing the door. He lit a candle and moved back to where he had his personal effects. He put the candle in the small glass holder he had found in the storeroom and sat down. He was starving but for some reason he continued to put off eating. There was salted pork and biscuits, and one baked potato, provisions he was given by Jasper’s wife. It wasn’t much, but he knew it was more than most could obtain.

He was restless despite having another long day on the farm. His muscles ached from his exertions and his stomach growled again. He climbed to his feet thinking a walk around the town would help him sleep. He blew out the candle and eased the rear door open, checking to make sure no one was around, then eased out and secured the door back in place with an old screwdriver near the sill. He looked over at the back of the bank next door, the area now dark in the building’s shadow. He eased to the alley not wanting anyone to see him coming around the closed hardware store and figure out he was living in it. He slowly entered the alley then froze. Someone gasped for breath and he heard them crying softly.

“Is someone there?” said Henry.

“Huh? Yes…yes…”

Henry saw someone stand up next to the two trash bins and by the profile knew it was someone much like himself.  

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m just resting. Is this your alley? I’ll leave if—”

Henry heard the soft broken tone, that of someone like him, just trying to survive in this cruel world. “It’s not my alley,” he blurted out. Then he sighed. “How long have you been homeless?”

“I lost my place this morning.”

“This morning? You don’t have anywhere to go?”

“No. I have some distant relatives up in Virginia, but we hadn’t heard anything from them in a long time, even when I sent word mom and dad had died.”

“What did they die of?”

“Influenza. Are your parents gone?”

“Yes,” Henry replied, knowing he was going to be asked how. Could he tell the truth. Tell of his father committing suicide and his mother locked away because she lost her mind.

“Influenza?”

“No. The crash killed father and that drove mother insane.”

“Oh…I’m sorry.”

“I’m Henry, Henry Jones.”

“I’m Robert Brown but call me Robby.”

“Robby, I remember you. You were a grade behind me in school.”

“I don’t remember; wait, you stopped coming in fifth grade.”

“That’s right. If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you come to the place I’m staying.”

“Is it nearby?”

Henry laughed for the first time in a long time. “It is. Get your things and follow me.”

Robby picked up the rifle and slung it over his shoulder then reached for the suitcase.

“Whoa, you have a gun,” exclaimed Henry.

“Yes. It was dad’s hunting rifle.”

“Do you have any ammo for it?”

“A few cartridges.”

“Good. Now follow me.”

Henry smiled at the shortness of the walk, just to the back of the hardware store and into the storeroom at back.

“You’re staying here?” said Robby following him into the building.

“Yes. Give me a minute to light a candle.”

 

 

Robby sat on the floor opposite Henry in the narrow storeroom with his knees up to keep their feet from touching. The room was silent, too silent, and Robby wanted to say something, but everything that came to mind would be stressful. He looked across at the face glowing in the ember light of the candle. Did Henry like to read, as he had when his parents could afford a few books. Did Henry like to hunt, something he did with his father out of some sense of being a good son. He didn’t like killing, but with his stomach growling, he knew he would shoot something for food.

“Have you had anything to eat?” said Henry.

“Not yet. My stomach was upset and I didn’t think I could keep anything down.”

“Being suddenly homeless will do that to you. Now that you are out of the alley, do you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you can eat something?”

“I think so. Where do you go to buy something to eat? I have a few dollars.”

“Hold on to your money; I have some ham and biscuits, and a potato we can split,” said Henry, taking out three aluminum foil wrapped things. One was salt cured ham, one four hard biscuits, and the last was a baked potato. Henry held out a slice of ham and two biscuits, which Robby gingerly took. He broke the potato in half and held it out and Robby looked at it, how little there was for the two of them.

“You should eat that.”

“Take it. We can buy something tomorrow.”

They ate in silence, taking small bites as if the longer it took to eat the more it would be filling. Once finished, Henry neatly spread out the foil squares and set them with his belongings lined along the wall.

“It’s nearly sundown, so we should prepare to bed down,” said Henry, picking up a roll of blankets. “Do you have a blanket?”

“Just a small one.”

“Get it out,” said Henry as he unrolled the blankets, a large thick one on bottom. “We’ll have to share this one, but we will have our own blanket to cover up with.”

Robby moved next to Henry and lay down. He was aware of their differences, Henry taller than his five-foot-six and a better build, more manly than his own build that still showed him to be a teenager. Then there were the small differences, Henry a dirty blonde with what appeared to be dark brown eyes while he dark brown hair and blue-grey eyes. And there was one difference, one not visible, one he did everything he could to hide, was an attraction toward boys, not girls, and he knew it made him different in a way no one would accept. There was no way Henry would be the same.

 

 

Henry woke in the night and heard Robby mumbling in his sleep. He leaned over trying to understand him. Robby kicked and jerked, then cried out.

“No! I’m not!”

Henry couldn’t see Robby in the dark, but he sensed him in every other way. The air seemed to be charged with Robby’s presence. He scooted closer and reached out until his hand touched the body. He moved his hand until he knew it was the left upper arm.

“Please, don’t do this!” Robby cried out.

Henry spooned against Robby, wrapping his arm around him, pulling their bodies together and immediately he heard Robby’s breathing slow, settle down, and the mumbling stopped. “It’ll get better,” whispered Henry to the sleeping form. “I promise.”

 

 

Robby woke to see light coming through an open door to the sales area. He sat up realizing Henry was gone, and for a moment he feared he was once again all alone. Then he saw Henry’s belongings against the wall, and he was on Henry’s blanket. Henry had to be out maybe to relieve himself somewhere. He got off the blanket and folded his small one, then rolled Henry’s blankets. His stomach growled and he considered going in search of food.

The back door eased open and Henry slipped in then closed and secured it.

“You’re up,” said Henry.

“I just woke up. Where do you go to relieve yourself?”

Henry smiled and Robby realized he looked embarrassed.

“Do you need paper?” said Henry.

“No, just somewhere I can piss.”

“I go to the property behind us that is wooded.”

“Okay,” said Robby, coming to his feet.

“I got us something to eat,” said Henry holding out a paper wrapped around two fresh biscuits, a fried egg, and two sausage patties. “I’ll split this with you when you get back.”

“Where did you get that?”

“The widow Duncan. She cooks for me and I tend to her chickens and take care of anything around her place that needs looking after.”

“So, we can make it?’’

Henry heard the hope, the reaching out for it, desperate to know it couldn’t get worse.

“Of course. I have farmhand job with Jasper McKinley to earn money. It’s not much but it’s something.”

 

 

For the next two nights, Robby woke during the night to find Henry holding him, their bodies spooned together. It was comforting, more than he could ever have admitted. He just wished Henry would go further, some touching and doing those things some derogatorily referred to that two men could do. Suck a man’s cock or take it in the ass. He tried to picture the mechanics of it, imagined Henry doing those things to him, but he was too naïve, too innocent in the ways of men. He also didn’t know if Henry had ever considered those things. Had there ever been a time Henry considered something sexual with another man. The body against him, warm, cosseting, he let himself think it was possible.

 

 

The next night, as it rained and thunder rumbled over the land, Robby lay awake, once again in Henry’s embrace. He imagined them doing something. In the cover of a rainy night, the two of them crossing that line, two men engaging in kissing, touching, then sex. Thinking of it, he grew aroused, felt his cock stir, slowly stretching out and thickening. He couldn’t hold back, didn’t want to, just let his erotic imaginings carry him along until his cock was painfully trapped in his pants. He manipulated it within its confinement to allow it to stretch out.

“Are you awake?” said Henry.

“Yes,” Robby replied, breathless, so aroused, he wanted to turn and kiss him.

“Do you feel lonely?”

“Not with you,” Robby replied in a whisper. Thinking of Henry, the masculine nature of him, he shifted, pushed his ass back and felt hard cock press back.

“Robby…can I,” whispered Henry.

Robby felt Henry’s hand slide down his stomach and lay there, waiting, scared to say anything. Lips touched the back of his neck and the hand moved over his crotch, fingers searching, finding, manipulating his cock. He moaned and pushed his ass back again.

Suddenly Henry had him on his back and was on top of him, pushing against his cock. It flexed with his arousal, and he moaned and reached out in the darkness for the body. He felt its movement, an undulation he felt against his own.

Then it happened, Henry kissed him. An intimacy he had not dared hope for, but now it was happening. It was real, Henry was kissing him, and he kissed back hungrily, desperately, while clinging to the body. When Henry pulled back, he gasped for breath, then realized Henry was moving along his body until between his legs.

“Can I?” Henry whispered in the darkness.

“Henry…please,” Robby replied.

Robby felt Henry’s mouth on his cock through his pants, following the length of it. As the mouth focused on the head of his cock, fingers worked his pants undone. When he felt a tug on his pants, he raised his ass, letting Henry slide them down until he felt his exposure, and his cock freed of its confinement.

Despite the darkness, he felt his nakedness from the waist down, cock freed from its confinement. Hands moved up his legs until fondling him, then he felt Henry take him in the mouth. He shivered with the feel of the wet mouth moving on his cock, pushing his arousal.

As the mouth moved up and down on his cock, his nuts were tugged tight in their sack, then fingers rubbed down below them, rubbing around his opening. He spread his legs as much as he could with his pants around his calves. The mouth moved with greater intensity as the fingers rubbed his tightness. He felt his heart racing. The other hand came to his stomach and pushed upward, beneath his shirt over his chest as the other hand penetrated his ass with one finger.

Robby came, pushing upward as his cock spurt wad after wad into the suctioning mouth.

Henry moved over him, the body heavy on top of him. Hands found his head holding it as lips connected with his own. He tasted his own cum as tongue moved into his mouth. He moaned and kissed back. As they kissed, he realized Henry had undone his own pants, a hard cock pressing against his abdomen next to his own. Henry pumped it against him, then raised the hips until it slipped below his nuts, rubbing along his ass.

Robby raised his knees, pulling his feet close to his ass, giving Henry room to stroke his arousal.

“Robby, can I?” whispered Henry.

Robby reached between them taking Henry’s cock, holding it to his opening.

“Yes.”

Robby cried out softly as Henry penetrated him. He moaned and clung to him as cock pushed inward. The fullness of it made his own cock stir with his arousal.

“Henry, do it. I want it,” Robby uttered in the darkness, brave by his concealment in it.

Henry slipped hands under his bare ass holding him in place while fucking his ass. It wasn’t like anything he had ever imagined, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Robby,” Henry uttered, lips grazing Robby’s ear.

Robby tilted his head as lips touched his neck, moved to his ear again and tugged playfully on it as cock pumped deep into his ass. It aroused him, made his cock grow erect and flex with Henry’s movements against him.

“Henry…I can’t hold it.”

“It’s okay; let go.”

Robby came, cock flexing between their bodies as it spurts wad after wad. Henry increased his pace, then lost his rhythm. He jammed cock into Robby’s depths and kept trying to push deeper, then he came too, pumping cum into Robby’s depths.

 

22 May 1930

Days passed until it had been a week since Henry found Robby in the alley. Since that night they discovered a shared desire, one forbidden by society. They knew the terms, the damnations, but in such a godforsaken world, how could anyone care about who a person found companionship.

The day before they celebrated Henry’s birthday, now nineteen, with a blueberry pie Robby had bought at the grocery store, one made by someone local to earn a few pennies. It was an extravagance Henry scolded him over, but while he cut a slice, he saw Henry smile and wipe at his eyes.  

“How long do you think we can continue to live here,” said Robby as he looked through the door and across the abandoned sales floor to the street where one car passed.

“I don’t know but I’m surprised someone hasn’t discovered us,” said Henry.

“We should find somewhere else to hold up. Maybe some place in the countryside where we might stand a better chance at not being discovered.”

“I thought about that.”

“Let’s go out and look around.”

“We should go north, for I don’t know any place to the south we might find a place.”

“Agreed. We should stay near the creek or one of the streams feeding it.”

They ate a few pieces of salted pork and the last of the bread Robby had purchased the day before.

“We can pick up something on the way back,” said Henry as he put away the remaining pork, the two of them always cautious not to waste any of it.

 

 

They moved through the woods, keeping the dirt road just to their left to maintain their bearings. They were over a mile north of town and had found two abandoned houses and one barn. All had been stripped of anything of value and one house even had boards removed from walls and floors, thus not a place where they would feel safe.

“We need to find something off the road,” said Henry as they jumped over a spring flowing toward the creek that was somewhere to their right.

“I don’t know this area, so not sure where to look,” said Robby.

“I’ve heard of some people packing up and leaving, but not sure where they lived.”

They came to the stream everyone called Snake Creek, but as they stepped over it neither could see why it was given such status by naming it. The road’s wood bridge over it was to their left and Robby took note of the rotten piles supporting the bridge, wondering how long before it failed. As they made their way up the other side they heard voices, men shouting in a threatening tone.

“Let’s move away from the road,” whispered Henry.

Deeper in the woods, the voices more muffled, it made them feel safe and far enough away not to be discovered. When they knew they were just to the east of commotion that came from on the road, Henry came next to Robby.

“Stay here. I’ll go check it out,” Henry whispered.

 

 

Robby waited impatiently, worrying that Henry could be discovered. The voices rose in volume, then quieted until he couldn’t hear them. Where is Henry, he wondered as he sat on the far side of an oak.

A limb broke, then a silence that could mean danger. Robby leaned over to peer around the tree and saw Henry moving hunched over through the woods. When Henry saw him, holds a finger to the lips.

Henry made his way to the tree and motions Robby to follow him. They move away from the road and deeper into the woods, silently, as quickly as they dare, until the only sound they hear is bird song.

“Henry; what did you see?”

“They had a car stopped and were robbing it.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen the three robbers before or the couple they were robbing.”

“What should we do? Wait here until they’re gone or head back?”

“Let’s keep going until we get to the creek. I’m curious how far it is.”

“Okay,” said Robby, following Henry as they eased further east.

It seemed like such a long way, but Robby knew it was probably less than a quarter of a mile when they stepped out into an old lane. It was overgrown with small trees and weeds alongside the compacted old ruts.

“I wonder where this goes,” said Henry.

“I don’t know, but it hasn’t been used in a long time.”

“Which way?” said Henry, pointing south, then north.

“North; away from town,” said Robby.

 

 

They made their way along the abandoned lane, moving cautiously, but they sensed it, the normalcy of the woods around them. The sound of a gentle breeze and bird song filled the air and at one point a rabbit rushed across the lane in front of them disappearing in the brush.

“We’re descending so it might just go to an old logging camp on the creek,” said Robby as they moved down a steeply sloped section then back to level ground.”

They came around a bend in the lane and upon a small house sitting in a clearing. To the right of the house sat a barn. The house was small, with a porch across the front and more importantly to them, it was abandoned. The clearing was grown up, weeds and small trees shoulder high, and the house just looked too dark, too silent.

“Let’s check it out,” said Henry, the excitement in his voice evident as he headed toward the house.

 

 

They were shocked to find the house intact, even the glass in the two doors on front and the two windows in back. The house was two rooms, each about twelve feet wide by fifteen feet deep, each served by one of the doors in front under the porch. On the back wall, one small window centered in each room, and the side outside walls a stone fireplace and connecting the two rooms, one door. The room on the right was the one used for cooking and dining because the pot was still hung in the fireplace and a table sat against the back wall with two chairs tipped over on the floor by it, as if the people had left in a hurry. In the room on the left, there are two small beds with filthy mattresses and tattered blankets and a small round table.

“What do you think?” said Robby thinking it was perfect.

“It’s perfect,” said Henry. “Let’s check out the outbuildings.”

The barn sat to the right of the house and perpendicular to it, nestled right at the edge of the woods. It was about nine feet wide by fifteen feet long, with double doors on one end and a loft built at the other end where they found a baby’s crib, a washtub, and a box of canning jars.

“The tin roof is rusted but I don’t see any sign of leaks,” said Robby.

“It is in good shape,” said Henry.

At the back of the house, the grade dropped steeply at the edge of the woods about twenty feet back and along the edge of the break, sat a smoke house to the right side and on the far-left side an outhouse tucked into the woods. It would need repair, the door barely holding on by one hinge and wasps living inside it. Henry looked at the layout, how the largest area in the clearing was to the east of the house between the barn and smoke house. It had to be where the garden was planted.

“We’ll need a few supplies, but it’ll work,” said Henry.

“We can buy some garden tools from some of the farmers going out of business and if we can get some chickens—”

“We’ll have eggs and the occasional meat on the table,” said Henry.

“I can hunt too.”

“And I can scavenge the woods for mushrooms and other things we can eat, and that is a pecan tree over there, so we might have nuts come fall.”

“Let’s head back,” said Robby, feeling more positive about things than he had since his parents passed away.

“Let’s follow the lane to see where it comes out.”

 

 

They had walked for over a mile before the lane curved to the west and came out behind the Primitive Baptist Church. The church was small and in a state of disrepair.

“No wonder no one has found the house. The lane comes out here,” said Henry.

“The church looks to be barely holding on.”

“Let’s get back before it gets late.”

 

 

Robby lay on his stomach, Henry moving over him, inside him, lips against his neck, hands holding his own down. Henry pumped cock into his depths. He moaned and pushed his ass up to take it. To take every inch. He felt they were at a threshold, a moment in time that would set the stage for the rest of their lives. Or he hoped it were true as Henry began to fuck harder, hips banging against his ass.

“Robby,” Henry uttered in the dark.

As the cock moved inside him; he relished the fullness of it when hips were pressed against his ass. His own cock ached for release, pinned beneath him. He felt his masculine nature, savored it, relished it, as Henry nipped his shoulder and licked at his salty skin.

Henry rose from his back and their fuck intensified, Henry hammered his ass. The sound of hips smacking ass echoed in the storeroom, but it was late, the downtown dark and closed up, and they didn’t hold back. Henry fucked until sweating and gasping for breath, then he pushed into Robby all the way, every inch of his cock buried in the ass, and shuddered with his release.

Henry rolled Robby to his back and straddled the narrow waist. “Let me,” he uttered breathlessly, as he held Robby leaking cock up and eased down to it.

Robby shivered with the feel of the tight ass slipping over the head of his cock, and he clutched at the blankets as the tight ass moved slowly down his cock.

“Fuck; it feels like this?” said Henry as he held still for a few seconds. Then he moved on Robby, up, down, over and over, until Robby was pumping his hips upward with every ejaculation.

 

 

The sun had not rose over on the eastern horizon, just the earliest light pushing away the darkness, and Henry and Robby were moving along the back of the bank, the closed diner, and the drugstore, carrying all their belongings. They cut across the dirt lot behind the police station and town offices and into the woods behind houses. They moved silently and as quickly as they could. At the northern edge of town, they moved away from the road and deeper into the woods making their way toward the old Primitive Baptist Church.

“Sshhhh,” Henry whispered, holding a hand up for Robby to stop. “Did you hear something?”

“No. What did it sound like?” Robby whispered in reply.

“There!” Henry exclaimed pointing toward a tree that a child moved back behind.

They stood frozen, unsure what to do. What if her parents were nearby. They weren’t sure if they should ease away, bypassing her or if they should approach and make sure she was alright. The sound of a stick breaking, and they looked to their right and saw a young boy standing in a small clearing.

“Hey,” said the boy.

“Hey,” Robby replied. “Who are you?”

“I’m James, and that is Margaret, my sister.”

“Is it just the two of you?”

“No. Frank is with us.”

“Whose Frank?”

“Just a boy we found.”

“Where are your parents?”

The boy shrugged.

“You don’t know?”

“Mama died before she could give us a sister or a brother, but daddy left a long time ago, after mama got with child.”

“Where are you living?” said Henry.

“Over there,” James replied, pointing toward the north.

“Will you show us?” said Robby.

 

 

It was a wood shelter, probably one that had been built by a hunter. There was no door and it was barely large enough for the three children standing just inside it. On the ground were filthy blankets and leaves and in front of it a smoldering fire circled by rock.

“This is where you’re living?” said Henry, the incredulousness evident in his voice.

“We tried to live in town, but people kept running us off and one time a man tried to take Margaret,” said James.

“Goddamn it,” Henry uttered beneath his breath.

Robby stood stunned, unable to comprehend what he was looking at. James had told them he was ten and his sister, Margaret, was eight. They weren’t sure about Frank’s age because he sometimes said he was six and sometimes he said five.

“Your last name is Chavis,” said Henry, remembering hearing about their mother’s death three months ago.

“Yes,” said James.

“Do you know Frank’s last name?”

James just shrugged his shoulders.

“Henry,” Robby uttered.

Henry looked over and saw the expression; one he felt.

“We found a place, one nicer than this. Get anything you have that is of value and come with us,” said Henry.

James bent down and pulled out a corn cob doll and handed it to Margaret. He pulled out a small skull of a squirrel and a smooth rock, handing them to Frank, then he pulled out a small knife and a broken watch, slipping them into his pocket. When he stood, he pushed his dirty hair from his face. “Okay, we’re ready to go with you.”

“That’s it,” Robby whispered, and he turned away from the children and took a deep breath.

“You need to stay close to us and keep quiet. No one knows about the place we’re going, and we need to keep it that way,” said Henry.

“We know,” said James. “There are a lot of bad men.”

They walked in a single file, Henry in front, followed by Frank, Margaret, and James, with Robby bringing up the rear. Silently, they slipped through the woods, keeping the main road to their left. At the church, Henry and Robby scanned the yard, and when satisfied no one was around, they moved around it, keeping in the woods, until they came to the lane.

“Where does this go?” said Frank.

“Sshhhh; Frank, we have to be quiet,” James whispered to him. Henry smiled at Robby, then led them along the grown-up lane as it took them further into the woods.

It seemed to take the longest time, progress being slow with the young children, but eventually they came to the place where the narrow lane opened to the clearing with the small house and outbuildings. Henry surveyed the area, making sure no one had found it since they were there the day before, then led the children to the house.

“This is your house?” said James, looking back at Robby.

“It is now,” Robby replied.

 

 

After getting inside and showing the children around, they went down to the back of the property where James found a trail that was still visible. In single file, the five of them followed it. After a short walk, they were surprised to find a spring that had a small spring house built over the head of it. Inside the head of the spring was boxed, clear water flowing from a terra cotta pipe protruding from it.

“We have water,” said Henry to the smiles of the others.

“We just need to get a bucket to get it to the house,” said Robby, making a mental list of everything they needed: bedding, cookware, a decent broom, and a bucket.

“Okay, everyone, get your fill and let’s go back and get settled in,” said Henry.

 

 

Robby set out to make a straw broom while Henry gathered wood that would fit in the fireplace to allow them to cook when they got the provisions needed. The children dragged the rotten bedding outside and wiped the windows clean.

A crude broom made, Robby let Margaret take charge of it, sweeping the room without any consistency making him laugh. Frank sat on the edge of the porch talking to himself in some play. Out in the barn, James was with Henry, getting the jars and washtub down to bring into the house. They could use the washtub to bring water to the house and the jars to store food items.

After Margaret grew bored, Robby took the broom and got both rooms swept clean, then used their blankets to make a bed on the floor. He got one made positioned under the window, then set about making another bed along the side wall.

“Is that one for you and Henry?” said Margaret pointing at it.

“No, this one is for you and that one is for Frank and James.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m sleeping there,” she replied, pointing at James and Frank’s bed.

“She has nightmares,” said James, coming into the room.

“Oh, okay,” said Robby. “Then I’ll take this one for Henry and I.”

“Do you get nightmares,” said Margaret, looking at Robby.

Robby hesitated, suddenly faced with the issue he had been trying to work out how to handle. His relationship with Henry, something not accepted by society. “Yes,” he replied seeing her smile, then come to him. He squatted to let her hug him. Looking around he saw James staring at him with a smirk.

 

 

The sun was below the horizon and the small clearing in shadow. Inside the house, they ate the last of the salted pork, with Robby promising to get more food the next morning. The children were put to bed, Margaret getting between James and Frank, hugging Frank. With the door closed, Henry and Robby got on the other bed, so exhausted they snuggled together and drifted off to sleep.

Robby stirred awake sometime during the night and sat up because he thought he heard something. He sat silent, listening to anything different amongst the sound of insects chirping and buzzing outside. He eased up and moved to the door to the other room, moonlight dimly illuminating the interior, everything shades of grey or hidden in dark shadow. It squeaked as he eased it open enough to poke his head into the room. Three forms lay silent still snuggled together.

Satisfied, Robby eased the door closed and went back to bed. As he lay down, Henry stirred.

“Are they okay?” said Henry.

“Yes; sound asleep.”

When Robby lay back Henry moved over him, giving him a kiss.

“Henry, they might hear us,” Robby scolded in a hushed tone.

“I bet they can sleep through anything; besides we can be quiet,” said Henry as he slipped a hand between them, fondling Robby.

Robby moaned despite his hesitancy, feeling his cock stir with Henry’s manipulation.

In the dim greyness of the room, Henry tugged and pulled at Robby’s pants until they were mid-thigh. He toyed with the cock until it was fully erect. He fingered the tight ass until it loosened to his manipulation. Then he moved over Robby and penetrated him. He fucked slowly, working nearly the entire length of his cock through the tight opening. He ground his hips against the ass until to aroused to hold back, and he fucked faster, working his hips in a steady rhythm.

“Henry,” Robby whispered.

Henry pushed into Robby’s depths and shuddered with release. He tried to push deeper as his cock spurt wad after wad until spent, then he slid down the lean body and took Robby in the mouth. With just a little manipulation, the cock erupted, filling his mouth with cum.

 

 

3 June 1930

Robby woke to the sound of James and Frank horsing around in the other room. Sunlight spilled through the window in the door. He sat up and stretched then climbed to his feet. Henry had left before daylight, telling him he would not be back until the next evening, staying overnight to catch up on his work after taking a day off. There would be cows to water and fields to attend. With the longer distance to get there, now nearly four miles, Henry would be leaving before daylight and said it might be after sundown before he got home the next day.

Robby looked at the empty bag they had kept provisions, knowing they wouldn’t be able to eat until he made a trip into town. He put his shoes on, got some water, then looked in on the children.

“Hey, I’m going into town for food and will be back as quickly as I can. You guys stay here and don’t go roaming around. Okay?”

“Okay,” James replied as Frank jumped on his back.

Robby smiled, shaking his head.

 

 

Robby walked as fast as he could along the lane, then the road into town. He thought of the money he had in his pocket, twenty-one dollars and forty-two cents. Henry had fifteen dollars and thirty cents and was making a dollar and half a day on the farm. It was so little and they had taken in three children, increasing their burden. But there had been no way they were going to abandon them. They would get by somehow. Henry had shown him what they could gather in the woods, from dandelions to mushrooms. Henry did most of the gathering in the woods, but it would have to wait until Sunday. It was a short day on the farm, just tending to the livestock, but it would still take half the day with the four-mile walk to and from the farm.

Robby rounded the last curve before coming into town. As he approached, he came to the home of the Willis family, seeing them putting furniture in the front yard and smaller items on the porch. In the drive alongside the house, their Model T sat packed up and a loaded trailer hooked on the back of it. Curiosity got the best of him, and he walked through the small gate into the front yard. There were chairs, a table, two armchairs and a sofa on one side. On the other there were garden tools, a single bottom breaking plow, a bicycle with a bent front wheel, and a wheelbarrow. He walked up to the porch and saw some clothing, kitchen items, and mattresses that were homemade out of cotton fabric. Food had to come first, and he stepped back from the steps. He looked over at the wheelbarrow again, realizing the one thing he needed more than anything else was a means of getting supplies back home. He walked over to it, lifted the handles and moved it back and forth making sure the steel wheel moved smoothly.

“I greased the wheel this morning. The rust is just surface rust,” said Mr. Willis, coming up next to him.

“Are you selling out and moving?” said Robby.

“Yep. We can’t stay here. We’re going to pull out in the morning,” said Mr. Willis. After watching Robby stare at the wheelbarrow, Mr. Willis rubbed his neck and leaned closer. “I wanted a dollar for it, but I’ll sell it to you for fifty cents.”

“Do you have change for a dollar?”

“The missus does. Go get your change and I’ll roll it over to the front gate.”

 

 

Robby pushed the wheelbarrow to the side of the market and went inside wondering if he should stop at the Willis’ house on the way back and buy a couple of the mattresses and some of the kitchen ware. They needed it, but they also needed to watch their pennies. As he moved around the store, taking items to the counter when he could no longer carry them in his hands. He calculated the total in his head, constantly worrying he was spending too much.

He walked by a stand with some books on it, then came back to it. He looked at the titles, some familiar and some new to him. The books were a dollar a piece, far too much with his meager sum. He turned from the small stand and picked up a block of cheese and a bunch of carrots, then headed back to the front counter.

Cloth sack of flour          50 cents

5 lb. bag of sugar          30 cents

Box of salt                      4 cents

Tin of lard                      21 cents

Pound of butter              45 cents

Bottle of milk                  28 cents

Bottle of buttermilk        25 cents

Dozen eggs                   39 cents

 

Robby felt breathless as he saw the items being rung up. The total was going to be too much, he knew it.

 

½ bushel of potatoes     35 cents

3 apples                        15 cents

Five cans of peaches    $1.00

Half pound of bacon      21 cents

Block of cheese             59 cents

Slices salt cured ham    43 cents

Loaf of bread                 12 cents

 

Robby grimaced, realizing he had put more on the counter than he planned. He began to think about which items to put back when he got the total. The three apples and the bacon could be set back.

 

Whole chicken               $1.19

Bunch of carrots            5 cents

 

“That will be six dollars and fifty-one cents.”

Robby hesitated. He had miscalculated and it wasn’t as much as he feared. Somehow, he had added wrong in his nervousness, but letting go of the precious few dollars he had in his pocket was still difficult. He nodded and reached into his front pocket and pulled out a few bills. He laid two two-dollar bills down, then three one-dollar bills. He watched them picked up, counted again, then slipped into the register and his change removed.

“Forty-nine cents is your change.”

“Thanks,” said Robby, slipping the coins into his pocket. He had fifteen dollars and ninety-nine cents left.

 

 

Robby was pushing the wheelbarrow out of town, seeing people look at him with curiosity or envy. He wasn’t sure which. As he left the center of town, he kept thinking of the mattresses and dinnerware. They needed it and he had the money.

The Willis house came into view. A few people were moving around the front yard. Robby knew those in need didn’t have the money to spend, so it was hard to sell personal possessions. He came to the low fence and set the wheelbarrow down, trying not to think about what he was going to do. He marched straight to the front porch seeing the three mattresses, then the box of flatware, were still there.

“You’re back,” said Mrs. Willis.

“Yes, I came to look at the mattresses.”

“I was asking two dollars each, but I’ll sell them to you for a dollar fifty.”

Robby smiled, nodding his head. He pointed at the box of mismatched flatware instead of the complete set next to it. “How much are the forks and spoons?”

“Five cents each.”

“And those tin plates?”

“The same, five cents each.”

Robby thought the old tin plates should be cheaper, but he didn’t feel like trying to negotiate. “Thanks. I’ll take those two mattresses and some of the flatware,” he said as he pointed to the nicest looking mattresses.

“You don’t need all three?”

“No mam. But I do need some of this,” Robby replied as he bent to the box and started picking out forks, spoons, and knives, the ones that looked best without trying to find any matches. Then he picked out five tin plates and set them to the side for Mrs. Willis to note the number.

“Three dollars for the mattresses and a dollar for this,” said Robby, holding out the bills. “Is that right?”

“Yes. Thank you,” she replied, taking the four bills.

“Do you have some rope I can tie up the mattresses?”

There is some clothesline rope lying over there; just use that.”

Robby set the plates and flatware in the middle of the stacked mattresses, and rolled them as tightly as he could, the loose feather stuffing allowing him to get them in a tight roll. Set on top of the wheelbarrow over the grocery items, he tied the mattresses down, looping the rope around everything and tied it off.

“I wish you the best on your move,” said Robby as he picked up the handles and started pushing the wheelbarrow northward, heading to what was now home. He had eleven dollars and ninety-nine cents to his name.

 

 

At the church, Robby looked around to make sure no one was around, then rushed to the lane at the back of the property. It was rough going pushing along the grown-up lane, but the satisfaction of getting things they really needed kept him motivated to push, eager to get home to show the children. He was also starving and knew they had to be hungry too.

Eventually he was crossing the small clearing with Frank running toward him, glad to see him return. James and Margaret came out on the porch and waved.

“What is this?” said Frank, gently slapping the roll of mattresses.

“It’s a surprise,” Robby replied.

 

 

Robby made soup with the chicken and some vegetables, because he could jar the leftovers and store it in the spring house, where the dairy and meat had been stored. After feeding the children, he cleaned up the house, then led the children down to the stream to get them to bathe. They had found a natural pool on the stream about a hundred feet from the spring head. It was knee deep therefore sufficient to bathe in.

Once he got the children settled inside, he went back down to the stream to bathe. When he got back to the house, it was late, and the sun was about to disappear on the western horizon. He thought he would feel alone with Henry staying on the farm overnight. But the children were playing in the other room, filling the house with their laughter, and it pushed the loneliness away.  

He lay down and listened to the children, unable to tell them to settle down. He let them play, not knowing when they settled down to sleep.

 

 

7 June 1930

Robby came out onto the front porch and stood at the end of it, watching Henry use a shovel to prepare a garden. It was going to be between the barn and the smokehouse in a plot that got sun for most of the day. It was late to plant, but not too late. Henry had gotten seeds, a hoe, a cradle scythe, and a shovel from the farm he worked on. Henry used the cradle scythe to cut down the brush, small trees, and weeds that had grown up in the area, and now he used the shovel, one slow turn of the blade after the next, making neat rows of loosened topsoil.

Robby turned his face toward the morning sun. It was a warm Saturday morning and everything seemed unreal when he really considered it. He had gone from a son in a struggling family to one alone and homeless, to someone living with another man with three children they had taken in. And despite all the weirdness of it when he thought about it, it felt strangely enough like a family.

The children were in the barn playing in the loft. He could hear Frank laughing and squealing.

“You need some help?” he called out to Henry.

“We’ve only got one shovel,” Henry replied, looking around smiling.

“When you get it prepped, I’ll help plant.”

Henry nodded and went back to using the shovel to turn the top layer of soil.

Robby went back inside to get their dirty clothes. He was going to take them down to the pool on the stream and wash them as best he could, because the children only had one change of clothes Henry had been able to get for them from Mrs. McKinley. He went into the children’s room and gathered them up from where they were piled in one corner, then gathered Henry and his clothes from the other room and started for the door. He looked out the window toward the backyard at the lone clothesline stretched between two trees at the yard’s edge, wishing he had a better way to hang the clothes rather than just draping them over the line. Some of the smaller garments blew off so easily. He was about to head out when he saw movement, something rustling around the edge of the woods. Then a feral hog came out into the sunlight.

“Oh no. No, no, no,” he uttered as he dropped the clothes on the floor, rushed to the corner of the room for his dad’s rifle. He took down the jar on the mantle and poured a few cartridges into his hand and rushed out. At the end of the porch, he saw Frank and James were in the yard near Henry and Margaret was coming out of the barn.

“Henry, get the children and run!” he exclaimed, loading the rifle, then cocking it.

Henry and the children looked over confused. Then they heard the feral hog coming toward them.

“Get to the barn!” yelled Robby as he pulled the rifle up to aim. The hog had seen Frank and James and was moving toward them, its pace increasing as the boys ran toward Henry. “Shit,” he exclaimed as he followed the hog while it closed in on the boys. Sixty feet. Fifty feet. The hog was running now. It was three feet high and every bit five feet long. It was shocking how fast it could move its massive body. Forty feet. Thirty feet. Henry was yelling for the boys to run faster. Robby moved his aim to just in front of the hog, keeping pace with it. He exhaled and squeezed the trigger.

The shot echoed in the clearing, thunderously loud, as the rifle recoiled, the barrel swinging upward as the butt of it dug into his shoulder. The feral hog went down, sliding to a stop.

 

 

They stood around the hog, each one wondering if it was really dead. The bullet had entered just behind the eye and into the brain. Henry exhaled and Robby was still shaking with thoughts of what might have happened. James poked the hog with a stick, then he looked at Henry.

“Are you going to string it up and butcher it?”

Henry looked at James with surprise, then over at Robby. “Are we going to butcher it?”

Robby suddenly realized what lay before them. He nodded, then looked back at Henry. “Do you know how?”

“I think so.”

“What about the smokehouse?”

“I’ve helped do it on the farm. We just need to get it cut up and salt cured first.”

“We don’t have enough salt.”

“I’ll get started on butchering it and you run into town for salt.”

“Can I go with you?” said Margaret.

“Sure. And the boys can help Henry.”

 

 

For days meat cured as Robby used some fresh cuts for their meals. To make sausage, Henry borrowed a meat grinder from the farm. They had to work quickly because the heat of summer was against them.

By the end of the month, meat hung in the smoke house, the garden was growing, and Robby found himself thinking of Henry in ways more intimate than merely as a partner. He wanted to use the word but feared to do so.

 

 

14 August 1930

Robby and Henry walked to the one room schoolhouse. It was a familiar building to the two of them, both having attended it all through their grade school years. Over the door, painted on the white wall, James Marshall School in large black block letters.

They walked up the steps and entered. It hadn’t changed since their attendance, two rows of desks, each with two chairs. At the front of the room, there was a larger desk on the left side, behind it chalk board the full width of the wall. To the right on the side wall, a tall cabinet. Sitting behind the desk was Mrs. Campbell. It had only been about two years since Robby had dropped out, after his parents passed away.

Mrs. Campbell was of indeterminate age, somewhere between mid-fifties to late sixties.

“Robert Brown, it’s been too long,” said Mrs. Campbell, then she looked surprised. “Henry?”

“Yes, mam,” Henry replied as they came up to her desk.

“So, what do you boys want to talk about?”

“Mrs. Campbell, it’s like this,” said Robby, “Henry and I are living together to pool our resources. You know we both lost our parents and…”

“Ended up homeless,” said Henry.

“Yes; we were homeless. We have found a place to live and…it’s like this. We found three children who were homeless too and took them in,” said Robby

“Three children?” said Mrs. Campbell.

“Yes, mam. Two of them you should know. James and Margaret—”

“The Chavis children?!”

“That’s right.”

“And there is a third one?”

“Frank. We don’t know his last name because he doesn’t know it. We think his parents were traveling through the area and abandoned him.”

“Oh dear; that’s horrible.”

“It’s monstrous,” said Henry.

Mrs. Campbell looked at Henry and nodded in agreement. Then she sat back and looked at them. “You want to get the children back in school.”

“Yes. Will there be a problem since we’re not legal guardians?”

“Not with me, but the state could step in and question in.”

“What do you suggest?” said Robby.

She sat silently for so long Robby and Henry thought she was going to refuse to answer them. She sat forward, resting her arms on the desk. “They have no living relatives that you know of?”

“James and Margaret’s family came from up north and neither know of any family.”

“And we know nothing of Frank’s past,” added Henry.

“If there is no family to challenge you, and the way things are with the depression, I doubt if there is a family somewhere that would want to take them in, so one of you should adopt them.”

“One of us?” said Robby.

Mrs. Campbell laughed. “Robby, you and Henry are not a husband and wife nor are you related…like brothers.”

“I see,” Robby uttered.

“But you think we can adopt them. How do we go about it?” said Henry.

“I have a cousin down in Florence who is an attorney. Let me write to him and see if he can help us. In the meantime, classes start on Monday. James was at a fourth-grade level and Margaret at a first-grade level when their mother pulled them out of school. I suggest we pick up where they left off, James in fifth grade and Margaret in third grade and see how they do. How old is Frank?”

“He’s six,” said Henry.

“First grade level; have you helped him with his letters and numbers? Anything to help him get started?”

“Yes. I found some old textbooks someone was selling and have been working with them over the last few weeks of summer, and Margaret likes to play schoolteacher,” said Robby smiling at the image of Margaret teaching Frank. “Frank is doing some reading already.”

“Very good.” She got up from her desk and went to the tall cabinet and opened it to reveal books, pads of paper, and other school supplies. “These are the books the children will be using. This one for Frank, these two for Margaret and these two for James,” she said while taking out the books and stacking them on the nearest desk.

“Thanks Mrs. Campbell.”

 

 

“What do you think?” said Henry as they walked along the road heading north toward home.

“About what?” Robby replied, wondering if it was about the start of school or the suggestion one of them adopt the children.

“The adoption.”

“I honestly don’t know. I mean…I’m eighteen and you’re nineteen, and the only one with a job and we’re committing ourselves to raising three children.”

“Then what should we do; look for some family to take them or maybe drop them at an orphanage?” Henry said it mockingly, knowing neither of them could do it.

“OH god no. It’s just a lot to take in, but…” Robby let his voice trail off.

“But what?”

“I’m not sure I could give them up if someone in their family showed up to take them.”

Henry chuckled. “Nor I. Let’s see what her cousin has to say, but I have a crazy idea to make us one big family.”

“What is that?”

“We all change our names to something we share. We can pretend to be brothers or something, anything for us to share custody.”

“Do you honestly think that will work? Seems farfetched to me.”

“People change their names and take new identities all the time.”

“And what would we call ourselves?”

“Good question. I’ll think about it.”

 

 

Late that night, the children sound asleep in the other room, Robby moved on Henry. Up. Down. Slowly, working his ass on Henry’s cock. His own cock tapped Henry’s abdomen, rock hard and leaking. His ass moved slickly on Henry, the first load lubing it as he moved up and down on the cock wanting it to pump another load into him.

There was no talking about the future. No worrying about getting the children to school, or how they would do it. It was only the two of them, at this moment of time, hidden in darkness. Robby continued to move, working his ass on Henry’s cock. He got his feet underneath him and leaned back resting on his hands. He could move more freely, and he worked his ass up and down with a rapid pace. Hands held his ankles and he could hear Henry gasping for breath and uttering his name.  

He took his own cock in hand, stroking it, slowly at first, smearing the precum over it, then faster, working his hand up and down as fast as he was working his ass on Henry’s cock. He tilted his head back and sucked in much needed air. His nightshirt clung to his sweaty torso and muscles burned with his exertion.

“Robby,” Henry uttered.

Robby worked his ass on the cock as fast as he could. He wanted to push Henry over the edge, to feel him shoving upward with each ejaculation. He wanted to feel it while he came, ass spasming around the spurting cock.

“Henry…do it. Come for me,” uttered Robby in a breathless whisper. He stroked his cock until he was slamming his ass down and shuddering with his own release. Henry stifled a cry out and shoved upward. Robby rocked with Henry’s attempt to sink deeper into his ass, and he settled down on the spurting cock as his own dribbled out of the last of his load.

 

 

They lay next to each other, sweating and breathing hard. Robby’s nightshirt clung to his chest, wet with cum and sweat.

“We’re a mess,” whispered Robby.

“Let’s go clean up.”

Robby thought about how they would have to ease out of the house, pump up the lantern and get it lit, then make their way down to the small pool on the stream. But the water would be refreshingly cold; cold enough to take their breaths.

“Okay, let’s go, but check on the children first.”

 

 

Robby carried their clean clothes following Henry, who carried the lantern. It illuminated a large circle around them as they made their way down the familiar path. It took them to the springhouse, then along the stream until at the pool they used to bathe. They hadn’t bothered to get dressed in their clothes; Henry was naked and Robby in his wet nightshirt, which he stripped off and lay next to the pool to wash out before returning. He hung their clean clothes over a low branch as Henry did the same with the lantern.

With the pool illuminated they looked at each other and smiled. Henry held out a hand.

“Come on, let’s get it over with,” said Henry, referring to the initial shock of cold.

They stepped into the pool and dropped down into it, sitting on the sandy bottom, rubbing their arms and shivering.

“Jesus, I can never get used to it,” said Henry.

They bathed each other, rubbing hands over bodies that were firm and strong from their labor. They kissed and moved their hands over the other’s cock, fondling them until they grew aroused. Robby lay back against rock stacked on one side of the pool letting Henry move over him. Henry took his right hand and pushed it over and back, while leaning down to kiss him. Their hardening cocks rubbed together, and Henry worked his hips increasing the stimulation.

When Henry got on his knees Robby rolled over and got on his, leaning over the rock, chest resting on it. Henry moved up to him, slipped between his legs and rubbed cock across his ass.

They were alone. No one around to hear them. Robby looked over his left shoulder and spoke boldly, loudly, no longer whispering. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Henry.”

Robby looked down into the shadows behind the rock only picturing Henry. The muscular body. The hard cock. The dark brown eyes that looked at him with desire. He felt the cock touch him, then ease into him, inch after inch until he knew over half of it was inside him. Hands held his waist and Henry began to fuck.

Robby pushed back taking all of the cock, then moved forward and held still, letting Henry take over. The cock moved inside him, pumping into his depths until his own flopped heavily between his thighs. He rocked with their fuck as the sound of hips smacking his ass echoed in the clearing.

“Robby,” Henry uttered.

Henry slowed, pushed inward all the way and ground hips against his ass. Lips touched the back of his neck, then moved along his spine between the shoulder blades. When Henry stood upright on his knees, Robby felt the hands take his waist again and hold tight as cock pumped in his ass.

Henry fucked him until gasping for breath. He looked back and saw the torso glistening with sweat from Henry’s exertions and the eyes were closed, Henry focused only on their sex.

“Pump it in me. Henry, come for me,” said Robby as he held tight to the rock while swaying with their fuck.

Henry cried out, shoved into Robby’s depths, and shuddered and jerked with his release. He jammed his hips against Robby’s ass, over and over, trying to get his spurting cock deeper inside of him.

 

 

Henry lay on his back on the sandy bank of the pool. He held his legs behind the knees, holding them up. Robby moved to him stroking his hard cock. He eased down on his knees and scooted up close to the ass. He raked his cock across it, then rubbed along the crevice between the cheeks smearing his precum over it.

“Robby, put it in me.”

Robby put his cock to the tight opening and pushed through it. The squeeze was unbelievable. It made his toes curl how it felt on the head of his cock. He held still, the head just inside the ass until he sensed Henry’s relaxing to the penetration. He pushed deeper, slowly, an inch, then another, until over half of his cock was inside the ass. He took the legs and began to fuck. To fuck with a renewed stamina, feeling the strength of his body. He pumped into the depths of the ass until his hips smacked against the ass. He fucked until sweating and Henry was stroking his own cock. They continued, Henry masturbating while he fucked with urgency then he fucked slowly, relishing the feel of the ass on his cock as he moved inside it. He fucked to the point of utter exhaustion and covered in sweat.

Henry came first, cum spraying the stomach as the ass spasm around Robby’s cock. He increased his pace, fucked to cum as Henry pumped out his load.

“Henry!” Robby exclaimed as he shoved into the depths of the ass, his cock spurting wad after wad.

 

 

They eased back into the house, extinguished the lantern, and snuggled together on their bed, sleep coming quickly for them.

 

17 April 1931

Robby and Henry approached the school as the children rushed out. It was Friday and the school day was over, giving the children a weekend to look forward to. As they came to the steps, James came out, followed by Frank and Margaret.

“That attorney is here to see you,” said James.

“We know,” said Henry.

“Is he going to make it real?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, you three go play and let us see what he has to say,” said Robby.

 Robby followed Henry inside. Mrs. Campbell was cleaning the chalkboards and sitting behind her desk was a man about her age, bald on top with grey hair around the sides of his head. He looked up and smiled.

“Gentlemen, come, let’s get down to business.”

Mrs. Campbell came to the desk and motioned to the two chairs in front of it.

“This is my cousin, John Brewer, the person you have been communicating with over the last few months.”

“Call me John. Now which of you is Henry and which is Robert?”

“I’m Henry and this is Robby.”

“Robby, well alright. Let’s go over everything, shall we.”

“I’ve got something to say first,” said Mrs. Campbell, everyone turning to her. “It’s about Frank.”

“Frank,” said Robby and Henry in unison.

“You know he is excelling in his studies. I keep giving him harder assignments and he just finishes them without hardly any study. If it is okay, I want to officially move him to third grade this fall. He’s bored with the others his age. Honestly, he plays with the older students more than those his own age.”

“He’s only six,” said Robby.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Campbell, “and doing assignments at the third and fourth grade level. If I could, I have him skip two grades, but one would help.”

“He’s doing that well,” said Henry. “I had no idea.”

“What do you say?”

Henry looks at Robby and nods. “Okay, make it official,” said Robby.

“Very good,” said Mrs. Campbell. “Now you can get them legally under your care.”

 

 

Robby signed his full name and sat back amazed that it was finally done. For months it seemed like something that would never be finished. There seemed to be one document after the next to sign with a witness.

He looked at Henry wanting to lean over and kiss him.

Two months ago, they told the children what they wanted to do and if they were agreeable to it. How they wanted to adopt them but to do it as one family, they proposed a name change, one that let Henry and him become brothers on paper, and the children their siblings for to try to make it otherwise, Henry or Robby a parent would be complicated in a manner no one wanted to tackle. But as siblings, with Robby and Henry guardians for the younger children, they could make it work.

It was Henry who said they should take a new last name, one they would all share. They had sat on the floor in front of the fireplace and made suggestions. James suggested Washington, Lincoln, and Roosevelt. Margaret suggested Montgomery or Bianco, after her favorite authors. Frank had listened until he had to suggest names too, and blurted out colors: red, black, white, blue, green.

Margaret had laughed until Frank said Green and she looked at James and smiled. She liked Green because it reminded her of the garden and the woods. James agreed to it and Robby suggested they add an ‘e’ to the end.

On the documents before them, all laid out on the desk, their new identities were finalized, names each one chose for themselves. For Frank, even a date of birth.

Henry James Greene, 19, born May 21, 1911

Robert Franklin Greene, 18, born May 15, 1912

James Robert Greene, 11, born October 19, 1919

Margaret Lilly Greene, 8, born October 15, 1922

Frank Robert Henry Greene, 6, born June 9, 1924

“Congratulations, you did it,” said Mrs. Campbell.

Henry smiled and Robby wiped his eyes and looked away, then he laughed.

“We did it,” Robby uttered then looked up at Mrs. Campbell. “Thank you. You have done so much for us.”

“I’m glad I could help. To think those children were homeless until you came along…”

Mrs. Campbell let her voice trail off.

“Thanks again,” said Henry, placing the money for the fees before John.

John looked at the money, up at his cousin, then at Henry and Robby. He had thought the whole idea crazy but went along with it. Now he looked at the two young men and knew it had been the right thing to do. He didn’t understand their relationship, or more honestly, didn’t want to question it for where it would lead, but he had seen how happy the three children were and heard from his cousin how well they were doing in their studies, with Robby working with them at home.  He reached out and split the money into three stacks of small bills. He slid one back to Henry, one over to his cousin and the third he picked up and put in his pocket.

Henry smiled, nodding his head.

“What’s this for?” said Mrs. Campbell, pointing the small stack of bills in front of her.

“The school,” said John.

 

 

Two months later, Robby and Henry are in the garden gathering beans and squash. The children are on the porch shelling peas. The garden has made more they had dared hope. Henry had made it as large as he could, and they planted every inch of it. They had been gathering things for three weeks, picking and shelling during the day, then at night, Robby and Henry canned vegetables, using a washtub over a fire in the yard. It was tricky, keeping the fire hot enough to boil the water, and only one or two jars didn’t seal the first time with a pop of the lids. Hanging in the barn, some beans were drying and when ready, they would dig potatoes and store them in the barn on boards just off the ground where it was dark and as cool as possible. Carrots were stored in the springhouse in a box of sand and some canned for use during the winter months.

Henry knew he was going to have work late on the farm for a few days to catch up, having worked only half days for the last week to help with the garden.

“We have enough we could sell some of this,” said Henry.

Robby looked around and saw him standing with hands full of squash. “Where would we sell it?”

“We could see if the church would let us sell on their property. Maybe just set up a small table next to the woods.”

“It would be a little more money,” said Robby.

“The church has a service tonight, right?”

“Yes. They call it prayer meeting, I think.”

“You should go ask them.”

 

 

Robby saw someone enter the church as he came to the front of it. He made his way to the steps feeling nervous about entering. His mother and grandmother had been religious, but he hadn’t felt drawn to it, and to be entering a church now that he was living with Henry, it seemed especially ominous. Through the narrow double doors, he came into a small foyer. Bathrooms were on each side of it and in front another pair of doors that stood open. He moved into the sanctuary seeing there were two rows of four pews, a narrow aisle down the middle and along each wall. In front a raised platform with a wood altar along the front edge with steps by the walls. A pulpit was centered behind the altar and behind it a low wall with two more pews for a choir. The interior was stark, wood siding and ceiling, the walls painted white and the ceiling left natural. The windows were clear glass, letting in as much light as possible and the wood floor was wide pine planks that creaked when walked upon.

Robby saw the congregation was small, only about ten people in the pews waiting for the preacher to come to the front and begin, a man dressed in a suit standing in the center aisle talking to two elderly women. He moved toward him and sensing his approach, the preacher looked up and smiled.

“Welcome, come on in.”

“Hello, I’m Robby B…Greene, and I was wondering if I could ask your church something.”

“Yes, of course,” said the preacher.

The two women looked at Robby, eager to hear what he had to ask.

“Our garden has done well, and we were thinking of trying to sell some of it. You know, to make a little money.”

“Yes, times are difficult for everyone.”

“Your property would be ideal for us. It is close by and on the main road. We were wondering if it would be okay to set up table on Saturday to sell some things.”

“What do you have,” said one of the women.

“Some peas, okra, and carrots, and soon we’ll have some onions.”

“We have no issue with you doing that. Just don’t do it on Sunday,” said the preacher.

“Oh, no sir, we wouldn’t do that. Besides I don’t think we have enough to be selling for more than one day a week.”

“What time will you set up on Saturday?”

“We were thinking by seven in the morning.”

“How much will you be charging?” said the other woman.

“We’re thinking ten cents for a pound of tomatoes or peas, maybe twenty cents for three or four squash—”

“You have squash?” interrupted the first woman.

“Yes, mam, and cucumbers too.”

“We look forward to seeing what you have to offer, but if you excuse me, I need to get to the front and start,” said the preacher.

 

 

“…four dollars and ten, twenty, thirty…one, two three cents,” said Robby

“That much?” said Frank.

“It’s not a lot but every little bit helps,” said Henry. “Now go wash your hands and let’s eat.”

The children rushed to the porch where they kept a bucket of water to wash their hands. Henry moved to the fireplace to check the vegetable soup boiling over the fire as Robby put the money in the old cigar box sitting on the mantle next to the jar of cartridges for the rifle.

“Some customers said they would come back next Saturday for we were cheaper than the market on most stuff,” said Robby.

“Maybe we should raise our prices,” said Henry.

“We sold most of what we had and if more people show up next week, then we could make as much as seven to ten dollars.”

“It’s a shame we couldn’t make that every week.”

“The garden is going to make for only so long.”

“Well, we’ll see how the last planting does.”

“Henry?”

“Yes?”

“The preacher came right before lunch to talk to me.”

“About what?”

“He is stepping down and doesn’t think the church will survive his leaving. There are only ten members who show up for services and it’s not enough to support the church.”

“So, we may lose the right to sell on their property?”

“More like he wondered if we wanted to use the church as a market. He said no one would want to take it over, not with the Lutheran church in town empty that is nicer and holds more people.”

“We can’t afford to rent the church?”

“He said if we just kept it up until times got better and someone would want to take it over, then it would be worth it to the congregation to have us use it.”

“It could be years, decades, before anyone would want that church.”

“He said as much. He also said if the day came, we wanted to buy it, they might would come to an agreement to sell it.”

“Wow.”

“What do you think?”

“If they’re letting us use it then we can set up on Saturdays when it rains. I say why not. When is he stepping down?”

“At month’s end. He said someone would talk to us about it if they didn’t get a new preacher soon.”

 

 

With the children in bed and finally asleep, Robby and Henry eased out of the house to the barn. It is far enough away they don’t have to be quiet or worry about one of the children walking in on them. And it made them feel a bit naughty, like schoolboys doing something they’re not supposed to do.

Inside the barn, Henry lights the lantern while Robby secured the doors. They have built a platform that during their gardening, use to sort vegetables or layout the seed for another planting, but at night, they use it for other purposes.

Henry moved to Robby and removed his clothes. It is almost ritualistic the way he gently removed each garment, laying them to the side neatly folded. Robby stood naked before him, cock stirring before it is even touched. It aroused Robby, this exposure to Henry. He felt himself within his skin, blood pumping through veins and his lungs drawing in air then exhaling it.

Henry kissed him then goes to his knees. Robby moans, as his cock is enveloped in the warm mouth. He hardens quickly and just as quickly is fighting the urge to come.

“Not yet,” Robby uttered, pushing Henry off his cock.

Henry looks up smiling then stands. He guides Robby back, until against the platform. He becomes playful, lifting Robby and setting him on it. He kisses him, touches the bare skin, and strokes the hard cock. He steps back, breathing hard, and Robby sees it. The lust and desire that drives him.

Robby watches Henry unbutton his pants, roughly, frantically, until they slip down the thighs and the hardening cock is taken in hand. Henry strokes it while Robby watches, both aroused by what they witness.

Robby leans back and brings his feet to the platform’s edge, knees up and spread apart. He wants to be fucked, and he strokes his cock and fingers his ass while Henry watches.

Henry moves to him and lifts each leg resting them on the shoulders. Cock slaps his ass, rubs up and down it, then presses against his tight opening.

“Fuck me,” Robby utters, and the cock penetrates him, squeezes through his tightness. He lays back, arms outstretched, as cock bores into his depths. He feels every inch as it pushes into him.

“Robby,” Henry utters.

Robby opens his eyes to see Henry hold his legs to the chest while fucking. The tug and push of cock through his tightness until he loosens to it. Then Henry fucks deeper, building up a faster pace, until hips smack against ass and Robby is rocking in rhythm to their fuck.

Henry twists the legs to one side, twisting Robby’s torso and fucks. Robby moans and grunts at how it feels different, the cock battering his insides until he sees stars. He strokes his cock as Henry fucks him. They’re moving in rhythm. Slow, then fast, then faster still, until the platform rocks and squeaks beneath Robby.

“Fuck. I’m going to cum,” Henry exclaims, then he shoves inward all the way and keeps pushing against the ass as his cock erupts, pumping out his load.

 

 

Robby is on his knees on the platform, watching Henry suck his cock. He is so aroused he can’t hold back long. He watches his cock disappear in the mouth, then reappear, wet and shiny. He takes Henry by the head and slowly pumps his hips. The mouth is held open, tongue partially extended letting Robby pump cock over it.

“OH!” Robby exclaims and his cock flexes on the tongue then erupts.

Henry closes his mouth around the spurting cock and moves on it slowly until it is spent and Robby is pushing him to release it.

 

 

Henry is bent over the platform resting on his elbows. His pants are around his ankles and Robby is fucking his ass. He moans and grunts and pushes back, telling Robby to fuck him harder. As Robby hammers his ass, his cock presses against the platform until it hardens, painfully pinned against it.

Robby presses his face into Henry’s back, holds tight to the waist, and fucks. Fucks until sweat covers his body. The sound of hips smacking ass fills the barn.

Henry let’s Robby push him forward. His cock is pinned tight to the platform, and the pressure is too much. It flexes, then shoots, cum raining down on his lower legs and pants.

“Fuck,” Robby cries out, then he leans forward again, face pressed into Henry’s back, grinding his hips against the ass while his spurting cock fills it.

 

 

They ease down to the stream and bathe and horse around like young boys. When they finally get back to the house, they are exhausted. Settled in bed, Henry holding Robby, Robby is about to fall asleep.

“Robby?”

“Yes, Henry.”

“Buddy Richards said he would sell me his old truck. He has found a newer one he can afford.”

“That old Ford?”

“It’s a ’21 Model TT.”

“I know the truck. It has a flat bed.”

“It’s in good shape. Buddy put new tires on it a year ago.”

“How much?”

“A hundred dollars.”

“We have three hundred dollars saved up, right?”

“Three hundred five dollars and twenty-nine cents, to be exact.”

“It’ll be nice not to have to walk everywhere.”

“I’ll stop by his place in the morning on the way to work.”

 

11 August 1932

Henry came out of the barn to find Mrs. McKinley waiting. She is holding white envelopes.

“Henry, could you run to the post office for me. I have guest coming over and I’d like to get this in today’s post.”

“I would be glad to do it for you.”

“With the rate increase back in July, you’ll need to buy stamps for these two envelops. This one has three dollars in it, so get me a pane of stamps.”

“Let me wash up and I’ll head out now.”

 

 

Henry entered the post office, a place he had not been in for a few years. The last time had been with his father, coming to mail a package to someone. He found Mrs. Nelson was still working behind the counter, straightening up because no one else was there.

“I need to get a pane of stamps,” said Henry as he came to the counter.

“That will be three dollars,” Mrs. Nelson replied, turning to slip a sheet of one hundred stamps out of a drawer. She laid the purple stamps with George Washington’s likeness on the counter and looked up for the first time. “Henry Jones?”

“Yes, mam,” Henry replied, not correcting her on his name change.

“I thought you had moved away after…” Her voice trailed off. Then she grimaced. “Henry, I have a letter from the Evelyn Nix Hospital for you. I’ll go find it.”

Henry felt himself holding his breath for Evelyn Nix was the psychiatric hospital in Raleigh where his mother had been placed. He had stopped writing to her when someone had written to inform him his mother wasn’t able to read his letters or respond because her mind was far too gone. That had been in February of 1930.

Mrs. Nelson came from the back and placed an envelope on the counter and Henry saw the hospital’s name and return address, then he noticed his name and old address typed on front. It was postmarked May 20, 1932.

“Are you okay?” said Mrs. Nelson.

“Yes, mam,” Henry replied without looking up. He picked up the letter and stamps and turned to leave. He stopped and looked back. “Thanks Mrs. Nelson.”

“Henry, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Nelson replied, for it was obvious what the letter was about.

He went out front and climbed into his truck. He opened the letter and began to read, hands shaking and tears coming to his eyes. He wiped them with the sleeve of his shirt, put the letter back into the envelope, and started the truck. He knew the day would come and had told himself he was prepared for it. But to hold the letter and read of his mother’s passing, and how if the hospital didn’t hear from him within two months, they would make arrangements for her burial through the state.

He felt breathless, knowing he had not been there for her in the end, not even to properly bury her. Now she was in a numbered grave on the hospital grounds, or worse an unmarked grave.

He didn’t believe in some afterlife. His mother was gone, had been ever since she lost her mind, and now her body ceased to exist. The last vestiges of him being a Jones had been buried a month ago.

 

 

Back at the farm, he delivered the stamps to Mrs. McKinley, then went out into backyard to the burning barrel. He laid some old bags and a small box inside it then lit it on fire. As flames rose, deep orange in color with smoke rising higher, he laid the envelope on top and watched as it became engulfed in flames. He watched it burn until only black ash was left. He wiped his eyes and turned to head back to the barn to finish his day.

 

24 December 1932

Henry came out of the new bathroom, screwdriver in hand after installing the light switch. He and Robby smiled at each other for the year had been one small improvement after the next until they found themselves ready for Christmas, excited by having something to celebrate. After receiving the letter back in August, Henry looked for all the ways their lives were good, relishing each and every one.

The year started off with John Brewer, the attorney out of Florence helping them acquire the house. It had gotten lost in a foreclosure then a bank collapse. They worked out a loan with the bank that took over the failed one’s assets, paid the taxes, and took ownership. It made money even tighter for a while, but they no longer feared being removed from the house.

Electricity was brought to the town, and the line crossed the creek just below their house, cutting straight over to the main road then following it into town. Two months later, they got electricity to the house. Another expense, but by this time they were harvesting from the garden with more money coming in.

The last members of the church, their latest preacher left because they couldn’t support him, came in mid-summer, wanting to sell the church to Robby. They had desperately tried to hold on to their church, the congregation, not just the building. But they could attract no new members, instead they lost four more.

“Will you buy it?” said the widow Wiggins.

“Mrs. Wiggins, it’s a lot for us to take on,” said Robby.

“How much,” said Henry coming up behind him.

With a shaking hand, she held out a folded piece of paper. “This is what we owe the bank and what we would like to get.”

Robby took the paper and unfolded it. Henry looked over his shoulder with surprise.

“There’s ten acres of land with the church,” said Henry, wondering if the group had forgotten.

“We know. Maybe it’ll help,” Mrs. Wiggins replied.

“We can do this, Robby. You move into it with a proper garden center and produce market, increase your sales…we could make it work.”

Robby looked at the group. “If we can arrange a payment plan with the bank—”

Mr. Godwin interrupted him. “I’ve talked to them already and they said they would work with you if they could eventually get their money.”

“I think we have a deal,” said Henry.

The details of the agreement were reached. By August, Bobby, with help from James, had most of the pews removed, along with the pulpit. He found some old tables and arranged them in the space. He worked out a contract with a supplier for seed, bringing in items for fall gardens. As he got settled in, he added tools, buckets, washtubs, and other items that filled the tables scattered around the room.

Henry got a company to install a well for a discount since he would do most of the manual labor, when September arrived, the small house had running water and electricity. Two weeks later, Henry began to buy lumber as he could afford it and still put some money into their savings box. The stack in the barn grew over the coming weeks and by October they were adding a kitchen and bathroom on the house, coming off the room on the right. Robby and Henry watched for real estate sales, farms or homes in town being foreclosed, they went to swap meets, auctions, buying the things they would need for the house.

Now Henry stood in their new kitchen, with its cast iron sink with drainboards at the window, an electric stove on the existing wall and along the back wall, a refrigerator and small cabinet. The bathroom had an old claw tub at the window and along the back wall and toilet and wall mounted sink. They had finally made their house more modern, no longer needing the outhouse or the springhouse.

In the children’s room, a Christmas tree stood at the front window, a few precious ornaments, most made by the children and a star on top made from tin by Henry and painted gold by Frank. Beneath, two gifts for each child and one for Henry and Robby. It would be a real Christmas, even with a turkey Robby had shot in the woods south of the house.

That night, Robby and Henry sat on the porch listening to Margaret read to Frank and James inside, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“We should make the children go to bed; it’s getting late,” said Robby.

“It’s Christmas Eve; let them sit up if they want,” said Henry, stretching out his legs and leaning back. “You’re just wanting to go to the barn,” he whispered making them laugh.

 

 

24 December 1934

Robby kept looking out the window, looking for Henry. There had been some emergency at the farm, and Henry had left before daylight. He looked at his watch, seeing it was after two o’clock. He looked around at the Christmas tree, decorated with red bells and other ornaments they had splurged on for the last two years, buying them cheaply after the last two holidays.  Beneath it, there were four gifts for each of the children and one for Henry and him. It was their little agreement that they didn’t need much, and most of their spending should be for the children.

He heard Margaret call out for Frank and he wondered what they were up to. He couldn’t believe how the children had grown. James was fifteen and with his black hair and green eyes had become an attractive teenager, one that had a few girls seeking his attention. James hung out with one girl or another but never got serious with one. Robby worried James could end up like so many in the community until James made it clear he was joining the Navy and not getting tied down. Robby wished James wanted to go to college because he had the grades, but James wanted to explore the world, see places far from North Carolina.

Margaret was thirteen, almost as tall as James at five foot eight, and she was beginning to reveal the woman she would become. Her hair was light brown instead of black, but she had green eyes more vivid than James’. And she was smart and outspoken, something James said scared the boys in her class.

Frank was ten, still a child in so many ways, but he was smart. Mrs. Campbell sent notes that she was pushing him to higher grade level material and had yet to stump him despite already skipping a grade. But he was still personal, playful, and mischievous, which attracted the boys to him and made older girls flirt with him, causing him to blush.

James came up the steps of the porch, book in hand, which told Robby he had been somewhere to be alone, reading. Robby saw the book’s cover and knew it was The Sound and Fury by William Faulkner, a book Henry found at a swap meet.

The door swung open and James entered.

“When is Henry getting back?” said James.

“I don’t know,” Robby replied.

“What happened? Do you know?”

“Henry said they think Bang’s disease was infecting the cattle.”

“What is that?”

Robby looked around realizing he did not have all the answers to their questions. “I’m not sure.”

James nodded, accepting Robby didn’t know the answer. He went into the kitchen. As water ran, he called out. “We should wait until he gets back to have dinner.”

“I agree,” Robby whispered.

 

 

A horn blew and Robby rushed to the window. The old Model TT was coming out of the woods along the lane and into the open yard. He rushed out to the porch and watched Henry climb out, clothes dirty and grime smeared on his arms and face.

“Hey,” said Henry.

“You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, we were testing and culling the herd.”

“Did they lose a lot of cows?”

“Twenty cows and five calves.”

“Wow. Come on and get cleaned up and I’ll get dinner finished up so we can eat.”

“You waited?”

“Of course. The children insisted on it.”

Henry climbed the steps wearily and came up to Robby. For a second Robby thought Henry was going to kiss him and knew he would do it even if the children saw them. He thought James knew but wasn’t sure.

“I’m going to get in the tub. Will you bring me clean clothes to put on?”

“Of course,” Robby replied, following Henry into the house.

Heading to the bathroom with clean clothes, he thought about their family, the unusual arrangement where they were all considered siblings by law, but James, Margaret, and Frank thought of Henry and him as the adults, the parental figureheads of the house. He knew some in the area gossiped about their family, even making disparaging remarks, but to see James, Margaret, and Frank happy, doing well in school, and the five of them doing better each year, even if in small incremental steps, it was enough. And it amused him to hear James or Margaret jokingly call them their two dads. It sometimes troubled him to her Frank say it with a casual tone, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 

 

Everyone was crowded around the small table, dirty plates and empty glasses in front of them. Usually, Henry and Robby let the children eat first, then they would sit at the table, but tonight Robby insisted they eat together. He had moved the table to the middle of the room and pulled their bed next to it for Henry and him to sit on.

“Should we open the gifts tonight?” said Henry, as eager as the children.

“No, we have to wait until morning,” said Frank, making everyone smile and nod. The decision was made.

“We can tell them of our plans,” said Robby, giving Henry an opportunity to excite the children.

“Let’s,” said Henry. He turned to the three children. “We’re going to expand the house again, this time with three bedrooms and a room for a washing machine.”

“We’ll have bedrooms?” said Margaret.

“And we won’t have to wash our clothes in a tub?” said James.

“That’s right,” said Henry. “Robby is going to take me to work then start getting the lumber we need, storing it in the barn. We hope to start in March, April at the latest.”

“We wish we could have done this sooner,” said Robby, knowing for James it would only be for a short time before he was leaving.

“I don’t think we’ve done so bad,” said James, as if he knew what Robby was thinking.

 

 

It was the middle of the night, the house quiet, only the sound of wind from the north could be heard.

“It’s going to be cold in the morning,” whispered Henry, knowing Robby was awake too.

“We should get up and stoke up the fires,” whispered Robby.

“Not yet.”

Henry guided Robby to lay on his back and he moved over him. They kissed and pushed against the other feeling their growing arousal. They fumbled with their clothing, freeing cocks and baring asses. As they kissed and touched and manipulated the other, Henry hooked his arms behind Robby’s legs and folded the body beneath him. He pushed his cock against the upturned ass, then slowly, gently, penetrated it. Robby uttered a stifled moan.

Henry fucked slowly, one that didn’t make the bed squeak or rock. One they had practice, knew just how hard they could push it to get to the point of release. He pumped his cock inside Robby. He buried it inside him all the way and ground his hips against the ass. He tugged outward until nearly slipping free, then pushed back into him, slowly increasing his pace.

Henry kissed along the neck, then moved to the mouth as he fucked. Robby ran his hands along Henry’s sides, from lower back to ass, feeling each cheek flex with their movement, as he took Henry’s fuck.

Then Henry fucked to the point of release, pushing into Robby’s depths as his cock erupted.

 

 

Robby lay on his back feeling Henry moving over him. He could stretch out his legs, then felt a hand move to his hardening cock. In the darkness of night, Robby could only feel Henry, but it was more than enough. To feel the hand stroking his cock, then the mouth taking it, sucking it, tonguing it, until he wanted to cum. Henry slipped off it and moved over his waist, and he felt the ass slide over the head of his cock and down its length.

In the darkness, eyes unable to see anything, Robby lay on his back and lost himself to their sex, to Henry riding his cock. He ran his hands along the flexing thighs and pushed upward with such desire he was soon ready to cum.

“Henry,” Robby whispered breathlessly.

The ass moved on his cock until he was shoving upward, pushing his spurting cock deep into Henry.

 

1 June 1935

The day is perfect, mid-seventies with scattered clouds. Henry and Robby are standing in front of their house admiring their handiwork as James and Margaret carry the double bed frame into the house. Frank will get their old bed, no longer having to share with James. A larger dining table sits in the back of the truck along with a couple of chairs to give them the ability to take their meals all together.

The expansion is finished, three bedrooms along the left side, connecting back to the kitchen behind the living areas with a room wide enough for a washing machine and sink, where connections await the washing machine.

“It feels like a proper house now,” said Henry, bumping shoulders with Robby.

Frank came to the window of the front bedroom, the one Henry and Robby would share, and leaned out of it. “Which wall do you want your bed on?”

“The left one,” said Robby, pointing to his left.

“Okay,” Frank replied and he disappeared back into the room, and they could hear him tell James and Margaret where to put the bed.

“Mrs. Campbell stopped me to talk,” said Henry referring to the last day of school when they picked them up to celebrate the children’s finishing another year by going to the drugstore for milkshakes.

“What did she have to say?”

“She’s pushing Frank up another grade. He’s doing the work of ninth graders already.”

“Ninth grade?”

“Did you know he is sitting with the older students, mainly that Jackson boy who is Margaret’s age.”

“No, I didn’t know that. You don’t think…” Robby let his voice trail off, afraid to say what he was thinking.

“That he might be like us? I thought about it, but Robby, he’s only twelve—”

“He’ll be thirteen in eight days,” Robby interrupted.

“Thirteen in eight days and I know I was thirteen or fourteen when I knew I was different, and he seems so mature for his age.”

“Maybe he is just drawn to the older boys as role models.”

“I hope,” said Henry. “What are we going to do for his birthday? I assume you got something planned.”

“Margaret took charge. He’s having a proper birthday party with friends coming over and a cake made by Mrs. Wiggins.”

Henry laughed, then Robby.

“She’s loves to mother him,” said Henry as they watched Frank come out of the house going to the truck. Frank got a dining chair and carried it inside. “I think we should go move the table inside before Frank tries to move it by himself.”

 

 

4 June 1938

Robby and Henry stood on the platform waving at James as the train began to pull away from the station. Robby wiped tears from his eyes, desperately wanting to hug James one more time.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” whispered Henry.

James had graduated in May and was to report for duty on Monday at the Norfolk Naval Station. The train would have him there by nightfall giving him a day to get settled.

They had left early that morning, before daybreak, to get to the station in Fayetteville on time. Margaret and Frank had wanted to come, but Henry convinced them to tell him goodbye at home and let the two of them take him to the station.

“It’s going to be so different with James gone,” said Robby.

“I think Frank is having a harder time with it than Margaret.”

“He’s too young,” uttered Robby.

“You were that age when we took the three of them in.”

Robby chuckled. “God, we were all just kids.”

“I’m still just a kid,” joked Henry.

The train disappeared around a bend, and it felt final. James was on his own, heading off on for a life in the Navy.

“Let’s go,” said Henry.

 

Henry drove them into downtown, the two of them amazed at the size of the city, the people strolling or rushing along sidewalks, and the traffic, motor cars and trucks going in every direction.

“Wow,” Robby uttered for the fourth time.

“There’s the hotel Mrs. Campbell told us about,” said Henry.

It was too late to drive back, for neither liked to drive the old truck at night with its dim headlights. They would splurge on a room for the night, two whole dollars, and dinner at one of the local restaurants.

Henry got them checked in and they carried their bags up to their room.

“A night to ourselves,” said Henry as he unlocked the door for them to enter.

 

 

Robby followed Henry into the hotel room for the second time. They had dinner down the street, where they had seafood, a luxury they had not been able to have at home, then a stroll along the street, looking at the storefront displays wondering if the depression was as severe in the city.

Henry stood to the side, letting him enter the room, lit by a lamp on the nightstand. He heard the door shut and lock, then felt hands take him by the upper arms turning him around.

They kissed.

Then they took each other’s clothes off. One garment after the next, until everything was scattered carelessly across the floor. Naked, cocks stirring with their arousal, they kissed again, then moved to the bed.

“I love you,” whispered Robby.

“I love you,” Henry replied as he moved over him.

They kissed and manipulated each other, until both were fully aroused. Robby wrapped his legs around Henry’s waist. Henry pumped cock against his ass until he wanted the penetration.

“Henry…put it in me.”

Henry penetrated Robby, eased into him, inch by inch. Robby shivered and tightened his legs around the waist, pulling another inch of cock into his depths.

“Fuck me,” exclaimed Robby.

Henry pushed himself up and looked down at Robby. He saw the passion, the desire, and he began to fuck, slowly, pushing deeper and deeper. He increased his pace, not holding back as he had to do so often over the last few years. There was no need to be quiet, to worry about the children overhearing. He pumped is cock inside Robby until the bed rocked and squeaked beneath them.

Robby was breathing hard, as he took Henry’s fuck. Took every inch working inside him. The fullness of it aroused him, the push and tug of his tight opening stroked his lust for their sex. His own cock began to drool on his abdomen and he felt flush. Everywhere their skin touched in any manner, it sweated from their heat.

“Fuck; Robby; I’m going to cum.”

Henry shoved into Robby’s depths and shuddered and jerked with release.

 

 

Robby rolled Henry to his back and moved between the legs. Henry held them up and hooked them in his arms as he moved over him. He pumped his cock alongside Henry’s, then pushed it down, along the ass. Henry moved under him, worked the ass up and down as much as he could. It stroked Robby’s arousal, and he shifted putting his cock to the ass.

“Do it. Do it, Robby, fuck me.”

Robby penetrated the ass and sank into it, then began to fuck. He moved in that familiar way, working his hips pushing into Henry’s depths. He fucked and fucked, until gasping for breath. His muscles burned from his exertions, and when he slowed, Henry sat up and rolled them over.

On top, Henry moved on Robby’s cock, up and down steadily. He leaned back and increased his pace, working his ass on the cock until his own hardened. He took it in hand, stroking it as he moved on Robby.

They kept moving, ass on cock, hand stroking cock, until both were sweating and gasping for breath. Henry came first, shooting cum up his chest, then Robby shoved his hips upward until pumping a load into the ass.

 

 

With the sounds of the city and the lights of the street coming into the room, Henry held Robby as they settled down for the night.

“I miss him,” Robby whispered.

“Me too,” said Henry.

“Margaret will be gone in two years.”

“Shhhh, don’t think of it.”

“Frank could graduate the same time as Margaret,” Robby whispered.

“And we’ll encourage him and Margaret to pursue their dreams.”

“I know,” Robby uttered then snuggled against Henry.  

 

 

11 June 1940

Henry approached the checkout carrying six terra cotta pots for Mrs. Graham, setting them on the counter. “She’s getting some peas,” he said to Margaret who was ringing up customers. He turned to go help someone else, seeing Frank helping someone at the garden tools.

They were busy, surprisingly busy, and had been all year with people looking to grow more in their gardens. There was a tension in the air, had been since last year when Germany annexed Austria renewing fears of another war. Henry had heard those that served in the First World War say it feels worse than last time.

All the talk of war frightened Henry and Robby, making them anxious in ways they couldn’t express. James was in Honolulu, Hawaii, or out to sea on some destroyer. In his last letter, James hinted he was going to be transferred to another ship later in the year. Did that mean the US was expecting war? He couldn’t think of it because it made him scared for James.

James wrote regularly and everyone replied in turn, envelopes stuffed with four letters requiring extra postage. He wrote them about Honolulu, of being out to sea, and occasionally the girls he met. They wrote back of how the store was doing and Margaret and Frank’s graduation from high school and their arrangements for entering college in the fall.

Henry looked over at Frank, now sixteen, still just a boy as far as he was concerned, but he saw it. A teenager becoming a man. The boy was smart, confident, and still easy-going, amenable to doing what was needed. But there were times when Frank looked unsure of himself or just a bit lost. Robby knew where it came from. He saw how Frank looked at other boys, the eyes following them around the store or in town, boys older, more mature, their sexuality exuding from them. What was more troubling, Frank had graduated from high school with Margaret, both leaving for college in August, or the realization Frank was like Robby and him, a boy who desired other boys. He didn’t know which was worse but knew Robby and he had to talk to Frank. He glanced over at Robby, thinking come fall it would just be the two of them.

Robby would be a wreck, and he would be too when he was honest with himself. To go from five to four had left a gaping hole in their home. To go from four to just two; it was unfathomable.

He moved to the center of the old church and looked around amazed at what they had managed to accomplish. He was twenty-nine years old, a grown man who still cried when he thought about James gone and lay awake at night worrying about Frank, or Margaret, or Robby, the man he loved to the point he didn’t know how to express it. Greene’s Garden Center was doing better than anyone could have dared predict. So well, in fact, he had quit his job at the farm and worked with Robby full time in the store. They increased their hours again, remembering when it was open only on Saturdays, Robby set up with the wheelbarrow and a blanket on the ground at the side of the property.

“Henry, Mr. Matthews wants to get some potting soil,” said Frank.

“Oh, okay, I’ll go out to it, and he can pull his truck up for me to load. How much will he want?”

Frank turned to Mr. Matthews. “How much do you want?”

“Four hundred pounds or so.”

“Frank, tell Margaret to charge him for four hundred pounds. Mr. Matthews, I’ll make sure it is a bit over,” said Henry, and he headed to the side door.

Henry went down the steps and saw Robby in the greenhouse helping two women. In front of it, a couple were looking at the plants for a late summer garden arranged on wood tables Frank and he had built back in the winter. They had built the greenhouse last fall, not sure it would be worthwhile or not, but having plants ready to plant at the beginning of spring had proved to be a good move. Now it held a few house plants, a luxury a lot of people could not afford, but for the few that could part with a few coins, they had a small selection from which to choose.

Mr. Matthews was backing his old truck to the potting soil and Henry moved toward them, grabbing the shovel where it was leaning against the wall. He could hear the voices of shoppers and Robby calling across the greenhouse, and he smiled at the enterprise of it all, and how it kept them busy and not dwelling on the approach of fall and what it would entail.

 

 

Margaret brought the platter of fried chicken to the table with Frank behind her carrying the mashed potatoes. Henry sat at the head of the table facing the front of house watching each dish being placed on the table. They were moving around silently, fatigued from a long day at the store. It is getting late, the sun almost down, and Robby finally came from the kitchen with freshly made tea.

“Let’s eat,” said Robby setting the tea pitcher on the corner of the table and taking a seat next to Margaret, Frank sitting opposite next to Henry.

They hold out their plates letting whoever is closest to a dish serve it until everyone has their plates made. They eat in silence, passing a smile or a nod of their head, each knowing it was a good day for them.

“Robby, I’ll go Monday for more supplies and don’t forget Harold Gibson is coming after lunch for a load of sand,” said Henry.

“A load of sand?” said Frank, and everyone knew he was referring to being the one that would have to shovel it on the truck.

“He’s bringing his two boys to help load it.”

“Good,” Frank replied, looking down and smiling.

We really need to have that talk, Robby thought when he saw Frank grinning.

“I’ve got some forms to send back to Duke,” said Margaret.

“I can take you to the post office before opening the store,” said Robby.

“While you’re out, get what we need to do an oil change. Both vehicles need it,” said Henry.

They traded the Model TT last year for a ’35 Chevrolet truck and last April bought a ’36 Dodge D2 Sedan. The new cars made the Dodge look old with its curving fenders over the wheels and tall narrow grill, but it ran well and the price was within their reach. It had given them a sense of freedom, taking road trips on Sundays when the store was closed. They drove to Fayetteville and Charlotte and planned a vacation in Charleston at the end of July before Margaret and Frank left for college. The store could be closed for a week.

“Frank, have we got all of your forms sent out?” said Robby.

“Yes; last week. I’m all set,” Frank replied, smiling with excitement.

“Are you worried about being younger than everyone else?” said Henry, a question that had come up frequently over the last few months.

“No,” Frank replied, and everyone had no doubt he wasn’t nervous about it. But none of them knew how college differed from the public school and it worried Robby and Henry.

 

 

Monday arrived blistering hot. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight and the sun heated the land until things were blurred by the rising heat from the ground. Gnats swarmed and any labor made someone sweat until their shirts clung to their skin.

At the time it was the hottest part of the day, midafternoon, Harold Gibson drove up to Greene’s Garden Center for his load of sand. He pulled around to where the sand was piled within a three-sided block construction to hold it in place. He backed his ’36 Ford truck close and killed the engine.

Frank was looking for them, and he came out of the side door as the black truck pulled around. He wore his brown corduroy pants and a red and light cream striped pullover shirt that fit snug on his lean torso. He was six foot one and weighed one hundred sixty-three pounds and had blonde hair that had not darkened like many of the boys that had blonde hair when they were little kids. He stood out among the shorter boys, even those older by one or two years and he attracted unwanted attention from the girls. Mary Elizabeth had been determined to get him to go out with her, forcing him to come up with excuses from he liked girls closer to his age to he didn’t have the money to go out, having to save for college.  

Coming down the steps, he saw the two Gibson boys slide out of the passenger side of the truck. First was Thomas, eighteen, about four or five inches shorter than him but muscular and more masculine than most of the boys their age. He had a five o’clock shadow and hair along the arms. But as much as Frank was attracted to Thomas, it was Edward who slid out last, that really captured his eye. Edward was sixteen, the same as he, and had a similar build and was only a couple inches shorter than his six foot one. And he had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and when he laughed dimples and a way of revealing the gap in the front two teeth. Frank felt his heart racing as he approached the truck, seeing the two boys pulling off their white polos, leaving their upper bodies bare.

Frank tripped and nearly fell but caught himself and moved quickly to Mr. Gibson.

“You want at least four hundred pounds; is that right?”

“That’s correct, Frank. We aired up the tires for the added weight.”

“Okay, let’s get you loaded up.”

Thomas worked from the side, tossing sand over it into the bed near the cab while Edward and Frank worked from the back of the truck standing facing each other. Frank knew Edward would stomp his ass if it were known what he was thinking. If he understood the lingering glances at the upper body with its nickel sized nipples and Innie belly button. The arms bulging with every shovel of sand and the blonde hair that hung wet over the forehead almost concealing the blue eyes.

Frank watched the body sweat, rivulets trickling down the chest and stomach. He saw the darkened armpit hair when Edward wiped his brow.

“Shit, it’s hot,” said Edward.

“Son, watch what you say,” said Mr. Gibson.

Edward looked at Frank and winked. Frank wondered if Edward would talk dirty during sex. Would he tell you to suck his dick. Watching the arms bulge as another shovel of sand was flung into the truck, he wanted to know.

Thomas moved to the other side of the truck, and he was now in Frank’s line of sight. The muscular body was covered in sweat and the hair in the middle of the chest matted down. The nipples were sticking out and Frank imagined flicking his tongue across them or just simply dragging it over one then the other.

He imagined sex with Thomas, then with Edward until he had to stop for fear of revealing himself.

When the three of them finally got the truck loaded, the bed weighed down on the rear suspension, Edward and Thomas tossed their shovels in it and looked around at Frank.

“You want to come help unload it?” said Edward.

“He’s got another truck to load up,” said Robby coming down the steps, bringing the receipt to Mr. Gibson.

Frank smiled at Robby, shaking his head, knowing it was a lie.

 

 

Dinner dishes washed and drying in the rack, and the leftovers put away, Robby came out of the kitchen to find Margaret and Frank in the living room listening to the radio. Through the window he saw Henry on the porch waiting for him and Frank. After seeing Frank looking at the two Gibson boys, he knew they had to talk to him.

“Frank, can you come out to the porch for a minute,” said Robby as he crossed the room. Margaret looked up and smiled, and he wondered how much she understood.

Robby sat next to Henry and Frank sat on the edge of the porch, leaning back against one of the wood columns.

“What is it?” said Frank.

“We want to talk to you about something,” said Robby.

Frank smiled, shaking his head. “Are you going to tell me about Henry and you and ask if I like boys too?”

Robby shook his head and looked over at Henry, who laughed.

“So, you know we’re gay,” said Henry.

“Yes. All of us have known for a while.”

“We can’t help but notice how you look at boys, like the two Gibson boys this afternoon.”

“They are cute and yes, I’m like you; gay.”

“You know we don’t want to do anything to discourage you, to prevent you from living your life, but out there, in the world, people won’t accept it,” said Robby.

“Some do,” said Frank.

“Yes, but they are a minority.”

“I know I need to be careful.”

“This afternoon, if I let you, would you have gone with those boys to unload the sand hoping something would happen between you and one of them?”

“No, because I knew they just wanted another shovel unloading that truck.”

“Look Frank, come fall you’ll be on your own, living on campus, and I don’t know what it will be like, but I can imagine it will be tempting to try something with one of the guys in the dorm,” said Henry.

“And I could get my ass handed to me.”

“Exactly.”

“You just need to watch yourself,” said Robby.

“But how am I to find others like me?”

“Yeah, how does he do that?” said Margaret slipping out of the house.

Robby looked at her, shocked at first then resigned to the fact she obviously knew everything if Frank did. Henry began to laugh, making Frank and Margaret do the same.

“It’s not funny. This is serious,” said Robby.

“We know, but we also don’t know what to tell him on meeting others,” said Henry. “Are you worried about it?” looking over at Frank.

“No, sir.”

“We just want you to go to college, do your best, and enjoy yourself, but also be careful.”

“Do I get that same advice?” said Margaret.

“Of course not,” Henry replied. “You’re to run from all the boys that approach you.” He smiled, showing he wasn’t serious, or not entirely serious.

“Well, we’ve had the talk; can we go in now to listen to Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It comes on in a few minutes,” said Frank.

“Yes; go,” said Henry.

 

15 August 1940

For Robby and Henry, it was like the day they brought James to the train station, only this time it was their youngest, Frank, and Margaret was with them. Frank was heading west, to enter college at University of California at Berkeley on a scholarship. Robby and Henry didn’t understand it, but Frank was set to do a dual major, one in Physics and one in English Literature. Margaret knew Physics was what Frank wanted to pursue professionally, getting involved in research, but English Literature would be something to help him with his other true passion. He wanted to write and at sixteen he didn’t care about getting published. He just wanted the ability to tell stories, some real, others not so much, and they may only be for him, and there was a part of him okay with it.

Henry hugged Frank again, then Robby hugged him as tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Robby, I’ll write, every week,” said Frank as he let Robby hold him in a tight embrace.

“Okay, now get on the train before it’s too late,” said Robby pushing him away.

Frank walked a few feet then stopped and turned. “Bye Margaret, Bye Henry…Robby. You know I consider you my two dads.” And he turned to the train car and climbed on board.

Henry let Margaret drive home, telling her she needed to get used to driving. Robby rode in back, silent most of the way.

Robby turned from the window to watch Margaret while she drove. The little girl was a young woman, tall, beautiful, and daringly self-confident. In a week, she too will be leaving to pursue her goal of becoming a doctor. He thought about those that pushed her to settle for nursing, something more suitable for a woman, and scoffed aloud just thinking of it.

“What is it?” said Henry.

“Nothing, just thinking about something.”

“It’ll be late when we get back,” said Margaret. “Should we drive into town for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Henry.

“I second that,” said Robby.

 

 

At the end of the next week, Robby, Henry, and Margaret were on the road again, this time to Durham for Margaret to start her freshman year. Despite efforts by the administration office, she refused to enter nursing, instead fighting for a spot in pre-med to become a doctor.

They got her to her dorm, seeing the stares of others with two men only a few years older helping her. Henry and Robby joked how they would assume they were older brothers, with Margaret threatening to tell them the truth just to see how they would react.

After Margaret got settled in her dorm room, she came downstairs to find the old Dodge Sedan waiting to take her to dinner. She climbed into the back and Henry pulled away.

“Where are we going?” said Henry.

“Gregory’s Grill if you want a hamburger, but if you want a steak, my roommate said there’s a new place in town; Harrison’s Steak House,” said Margaret.

“It’s just three of us, let’s splurge for a steak dinner,” said Robby looking over at Henry, then back at Margaret, winking.

“Where is this restaurant?” said Henry.

“It’s on East Geer Street,” said Margaret, looking at the map drawn by her roommate. “Turn right at the next intersection.”

 

Henry pulled into the parking lot and found a place just past the building. It was a wood structure, with white painted siding and windows of various sizes along its front, and two doors with small canopies directly above them.

Margaret led them inside and once seated Henry next to Robby, they ordered drinks then their meal.

“Are you still leaving early in the morning?” said Margaret.

“Yes, we want to get back in time to check on the store and do the closing, so James Edward doesn’t have to do it again,” said Henry, referring to the person that was their first hire and the one they trusted to manage things while they were away.

“Are you excited to start classes?” said Robby.

“Excited…and nervous,” admitted Margaret, then she laughed.

“You’ll do fine,” said Henry.

“I have no doubts about that,” said Margaret in the voice she used when being flippant.

Robby smiled, then wiped his eyes.

“You okay?” said Henry.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” said Robby. “It’s just…” and he looked away.

“I’m not that far away and you can come up on Sundays and take your daughter to lunch,” said Margaret.

Robby wiped his eyes again while putting on a smile. “Deal,” he exclaimed.

“When you get a letter from James, write me what he says.”

“We will, but once he has your address I expect he’ll write you too,” said Henry.

“And Frank is to write as soon as he knows his address on campus,” said Robby.

“He should be settled in by now,” said Margaret. “I hope he will be okay,” she added, then wished she could take it back for Robby’s sake.

“You know Frank; he’ll be fine,” said Henry.

“He never had a problem making friends,” added Robby.  He looked around the restaurant, at the other patrons, college students with parents for the most part, and he didn’t know if he felt a part of something, or an imposter.

“Robby, stop fretting,” said Henry.

“This is so surreal. Ten years ago, we were…” said Robby, his voice trailing off.

“Now we have a successful garden center and two kids in college,” said Henry.

“And we’re not yet thirty.”

“Over achievers, the two of you,” said Margaret, making everyone laugh.

 

 

Margaret dropped off back at her dorm, Henry drove them to the motel on the south side of town, the better for their early departure. He pulled the car in front of their room and the two of them carried their small suitcases into it.

Henry closed the curtains as Robby locked the door, then they stood by the bed and kissed and cried.

“You know she’ll be okay,” whispered Henry.

“I have no doubt about that,” Robby replied. “It’s just…the house is going to feel so empty.”

“I predict the day will come when it’ll be full again to the point you regret saying that.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Let’s not fret or worry about it,” said Henry, tugging on Robby’s clothes to strip him.

 

 

Robby lay on his back, legs wrapped around Henry’s waist, as Henry fucked. A slow gently fuck as they kissed and touched and whispered affections to each other. They were unhurried, letting their fuck continue until the point of exhaustion. When Henry came, Robby clung to the shuddering body.

In the shower, Henry braced himself on the tile wall, head tilted down watching his cock swing as Robby fucked him. Again, it was a slow fuck, the hips gently pressing against the ass with every push inward. Robby moved with desire and lust, body undulating with hips working the cock inside Henry until he could not hold back any longer. He pushed into Henry all the way and shuddered with release until he too was spent.

On the bed, they spooned, Henry holding Robby tight to his body, and they lay silent for a long time, until finally their fatigue let sleep overtake them.

To be continued...

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