Watching Brad

[DonQuixote]

It's a function of where we all were in our lives at the time, and the cliff hanging installments.

 

[Kyanimal]

Schmaltzy? Yep! Soap opera? Thank goodness not with all THAT much DRAMA!

We're all suckers for the creamy center of the human heart's hopes and warm wishes.

And, you give us that so well.

Bless you, Neil!
Chaz

 

[gsdx]

One thing I noticed in rereading it was just how much of my life experiences were in it, both in events and the people. For instance, in my university days, I met a family who was from South Africa. Thy actually raised wolfhounds. The father had the strongest accent and spoke like Ted's father. His last name was Jan Villiers. I added the 'de' because it sounded and looked better, and it allowed me to use 'Mr. Dee'.

I made up the names for the twins, Justin and Jeremy, but their middle names - Justin 'Mathew Jayden' (with 1 't') and Jeremy 'Todd Jeffrey' came from 2 of my nephews.

David was modelled after a friend from Quebec City when we did a student exchange in 1970. He was David's height (5 feet 3 and 5 eighths inches) and was a bundle of energy every minute he was awake. We were friends until early 80s when we more or less fell out of touch, but I still remember him (his name was Yves, pronounced 'Eve') and he found his way into the story.

Even Hallowe'en made it in. One gentleman in our neighbourhood who, by the way, was gay, always made huge popcorn balls bigger than grapefruit and one lady, the wife of the local baker, always made home-made candy apples.

Another neighbour of mine who lived just up the street, was always baking for the neighbour kids and always has cookies and tarts and things for any neighbour children who dropped by for a visit. Bet you can't guess who she became.

Brad, of course, was modelled after someone I had a serious crush on, but, if you want to see what he looked like in a Speedo, just check out my photo galleries of Alexandre Despatie. Except for the black chest hair, that's pretty-much Brad.

My only regret is that the de Villiers family never actually came to visit me.

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Chapter 223​

When I woke up in the morning, it took me a moment to remember that I was in a suite in the Holliday Inn in Peterborough. Beside me was a bed – my bed – that hadn’t been slept in. I was still in Lindsay’s bed, but she wasn’t. I rolled onto my back and looked toward the bathroom door. It was open and the light was off. I suffered a brief moment of panic until I saw the drapes over the sliding glass balcony door flutter ever-so-slightly. I slid out of bed and into the complimentary bathrobe provided by the Holiday Inn, heading to the door as I did so. I found my daughter sitting on the balcony, wrapped up in her own plush, warm, terrycloth bathrobe and sitting on one of the patio chairs there. Her legs were pulled up and she was hugging her knees close to her chest, staring out toward the rising sun across the lake, beyond the cemetery. A light mist hovered above glassy water, making it appear as though the lake was swimming in the Sunday morning quiet.

“Morning, Sweetheart,” I said as I bent to kiss the top of her head.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said back to me. “Do we have to go for breakfast right now or can we sit here for a while longer?”

“I think breakfast can wait for a bit.”

I took the chair beside her, but remained silent. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my daughter turn her head to the left. I followed her gaze and watched a line of seven graceful Canada geese flying low out of the north, their honks piercing the morning calm and echoing off the trees surrounding the lake. They swooped lower, gliding gracefully with silent wings as they drew near the water. Less than a tree’s height above the surface, their bodies tilted up dramatically, their wings suddenly flapping against the air ahead of them, slowing their descent. Their webbed feet extended like the landing gear of a jumbo jet, becoming skis when they finally settled on the lake near the end of the pier to our right and skidded to a halt where they settled themselves on the lake. The sound of seven gentle splashes, stirring up the mist into delicate swirls and wispy puffs, reached our ears and then echoed into silence.

We were in the middle of the city, but we were a million miles away from it. No city street noises at that moment. No sounds of neighbours tending their yards. No weed whackers. No lawn mowers. No people. No nothing. Just the sounds of nature. I could understand why Lindsay would want to live here.

A distant siren brought me out of my reverie and I looked at my watch. “I’m going in for a quick shower, Sweetheart,” I said quietly as I pushed myself out of the chair. “When I’m done, you can have a quick one, too. I’ll pack while you’re in there, so get what you want to wear before you go, okay?”

Lindsay nodded her ‘ok’, never drawing her gaze away from the geese now casually floating about on the lake and dunking their heads underwater to grab some morsel of food in their beaks.

By ten o’clock, we were dressed, fed, loaded up, checked out, and on our way to visit with our Peterborough friend, Neil. I didn’t even have to remind Lindsay about the cookies she had made for him. They were nestled in her lap in a good-sized Tupperware container hidden in a plastic grocery bag, her plastic canvas Christmas village in another plastic grocery bag on the floor between her feet.

We’d phoned Neil before we left the inn, so he was expecting us and greeted us on the veranda at the front door. He looked older somehow. Tired. Still, he smiled as we approached. “Hi, Ted,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Hello, Lindsay.” He didn’t shake my daughter’s hand mainly because they were occupied carrying her cookies and Christmas houses.

“Sorry to hear about your dog,” she said sympathetically.

“Thank you.”

“I made you something to help you feel better.” She started to hold out the bag of cookies, but I quickly reached out to stop her hand.

“Wait until we get inside, Sweetheart.”

He had coffee ready for me. Lindsay accepted his offer of orange juice. He went to get them as we waited in the livingroom, seated beside each other on the sofa. The place was silent and empty without Sam sitting and panting at our feet, sucking up all the pats and love hugs and ear scritches we could give her. Her dog bed was gone from its spot in the corner in front of the book shelves. In its place was a table of some sort. It looked like an older floor-model sewing machine like my mother owned when I was a kid. A picture of Sam sat upright on the table, leaning back against the wall. Several candles sat on the table as well, one of which had a red dog collar draped loosely around it. In the middle of the table sat a steel-blue cremation urn. I expect that, even in death, Sam still managed to bring some love and comfort to our friend.

I heard a spoon drop onto the counter. A few seconds later, he called from the kitchen, “Ted, would you mind coming to get your drinks?” I jumped up and headed for the kitchen. He was wiping spilled sugar into the sink. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “My hands aren’t behaving very well today.”

I grabbed the coffee and orange juice from atop the counter. I didn’t see one for Neil, but I didn’t ask if he was having one. I knew he wouldn’t be. He followed me back into the livingroom, taking up his accustomed chair in front of his computer desk.

“Now, Daddy?”

“Sure, Sweetheart.”

Lindsay stood up, the bag containing her precious cookies in her hand, and walked around the coffee table to hand her gift to Neil. “I’m really sorry about Sam,” she said quietly. “I made these for you. I hope they make you feel better.”

Neil accepted the package, opened the bag, and peered inside. A smile appeared on his face when he looked up at my daughter. “Thank you, Lindsay. I’m feeling better already.” He leaned forward and gave her a hug. “Can we have some now?”

“They’re yours,” she replied with a grin. “You can eat them whenever you want.”

“Well, I think now is the best time to have a few,” Neil said, pulling the container of cookies out of the bag and opening it. “Cookies always taste best when they are shared with your best friends and the friend who took the time to make them. Thank you.”

For an hour or so, we sat, munched cookies, and talked. Lindsay proudly showed Neil her village. Neil was even more than enthusiastic in his praise to her handiwork, and when she showed Neil a picture of the Christmas tree she would like to have, he stood up and said, “I’ve got just the thing for you.” He disappeared into the bedroom to our left and began rummaging around in some boxes and bags. A minute later, he reappeared in the livingroom with a clear plastic bag which he handed to Lindsay. There were eight large Christmas ornaments inside of a very familiar pale blue with Victorian scenes in white silhouettes. Although Lindsay wouldn’t recognise them, I surely did: Currier and Ives.

“I bought these a few years ago,” he said as he handed them to her. “They’re way-too-big for my little tree now, though. If I put one of these on it, the tree would fall over.” Lindsay laughed. “I think they’ll look perfect on your tree.”

“Thank you,” Lindsay said. “We’re going to buy a tree at Walmart before we go home. Would you like to come with us?”

I felt a moment of panic, the same type of panic that I knew Neil must have been feeling, but, without hesitation, he responded with, “Sure, I’d like to go. There’s a few things I’d like to pick up.” A short time later, we were pulling into the Walmart parking lot. Lindsay commented that it wasn’t very far to which Neil replied, “It’s a half-hour ride on the bus for me, both ways.”

Lindsay was silent for a moment, and then suggested, “You should call us next time you want to come shopping. We’ll come to Peterborough and drive you here and home again.”

I glanced at Neil. He was grinning as his eyes caught mine momentarily, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. His gaze returned to my daughter. “I might just do that,” he said. “As long as your father doesn’t mind.”

Lindsay looked up at me. “You don’t mind, do you Daddy?”

“No, Sweetheart,” I replied as I shook my head slowly. “I don’t mind at all.” I looked up at Neil and he gave me another smile, accompanied by a wink this time. As long as Lindsay was happy.

We left Neil just inside the entrance near the check-outs with the promise that we would meet him back there at the benches which lined the wall behind the check-out counters. We found a tree that Lindsay liked, a nice, tall and full Norway spruce which, with the stand, would require me to stand on tiptoes to put the topper on the highest sprig. Either that or Brad or I would have to hoist one of the kids over our heads to do it.

Lindsay quickly found a star topper that we both liked and set it carefully in our shopping cart. Ornaments were a different matter, though. The selection, especially for the older types, was disappointing to say the least. Lindsay begrudgingly decided upon a few boxes of simple glass balls about half the size of the blue and white Currier and Ives balls Neil had given to her. We found some beautiful, snow-like garland, though, and a there was a good deal on tinsel. It was made of plastic, but not the silvery type. This tinsel had an iridescent quality to it that changed colours as I moved it around in the light. I picked up 4 packages. Twinkling mini-lights, both indoor and outdoor, were on sale as well and I picked up more than enough to fill the tree without running out halfway up. There was even enough to decorate the front windows and eaves and such. I bought a smaller pre-lit tree to set in the bay window in the lounge. At least the house would look Christmasy even though it still looked like a construction zone.

After a bit more shopping, we went through the checkout and found Neil sitting on a bench near the door, two small Walmart bags on the floor beside him. Lindsay expressed her disappointment in not being able to find the ornaments she wanted. “What about Canadian Tire?” Neil suggested. They usually have a good selection.”

It was a good suggestion. “How far is it?” I asked.

“Not far from where you parked,” he replied with a smirk. “If you had a good pitching arm, you could hit it from there.”

When we stepped out the main doors, Neil pointed to the right. There was the Canadian Tire, just across the street. We walked to our car and loaded the big tree in the trunk and the small tree behind the driver’s seat. We carefully packed the bags wherever they would fit. It was a tight squeeze for Lindsay, but she didn’t complain as we drove to the parking lot across the street. Neil offered to push the shopping cart. It helped him walk, apparently. And he had been right. In no time at all, Lindsay found the ornaments and garlands that she wanted and she left Peterborough that afternoon a very happy girl with four boxes of ornaments resting safely on the back seat of the car.

* * * * *

As I had promised her, I pulled off the 115 at the Highway 35 interchange to Lindsay on the way home so my daughter could have her picture taken standing in front of the ‘Lindsay’ road sign. The smile on her face showed how pleased she was that a town shared her name. I didn’t bother to mention to her that the town was almost 200 years older than she was and that I didn’t even know the town existed when we had named her. In her mind, it was more to believe that it had been named after her.

After the brief detour, it was back on the highway, straight-ahead forward, full steam ahead. Traffic was reasonable and, within the hour, we were pulling into the Hayes driveway behind the van. Before I even had my seatbelt unbuckled, two little blond-haired tornados exploded out of the door of the camper and headed for the car. A taller blond-haired husband following close behind, his chipped-tooth grin and green eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. I couldn’t decide who I missed the most.

There were a weekend’s worth of hugs and kisses that had been saved up in the twins and I got them all at once as soon as I stepped out of the car. I knelt down and got them in stereo one on each side. They smelt of soap and shampoo and I knew that Brad had washed them down for my return, something which should have happened after dinner and before they went to bed. I guessed that Brad had other plans. In the manner of a famous pipe-smoking, violin-playing detective wearing a deerstalker cap, I knew that something was afoot. I just didn’t know the game he had planned for us to play.

It didn’t take long to find out. With the twins all hugged out, I opened the trunk of the car and instructed them to help Lindsay carry our shopping into their grandpa’s house. They jumped to the task, squealing excitedly as they decided which packages they could carry. “Leave the boxes,” I told them. “We’ll get them.”

I turned my attention to Brad. After a quick kiss, he pulled me into his embrace and whispered in my ear, “Mom and Dad are taking the boys tonight. I’ve got a weekend of ‘missing you’ to make up for, Pops.” For emphasis, he gently ground his crotch into mine. Then he kissed my earlobe and released me to help with the heavier packages.

We had spaghetti for supper that evening courtesy of Bernice. Justin and Jeremy were keen to make sure that we knew that they had helped make the sauce. “We chopped up the mushrooms,” Justin said. Jeremy was quick to add, “And the green peppers and red peppers.” “No onions,” they said in unison.

I had visions of the twins going at the veggies with a cleavers and knives like a restaurant sous chef, but a quick glance at their grandmother eased my fears when she quickly mimed holding a jar with one hand and pumping up and down above it with the other hand. A vegetable chopper. I looked back at the boys and smiled. “And it tastes even better because you helped.” I’m sure their beaming smiles could be seen from the observation deck of the CN Tower.

Brad and I stayed long enough to get the boys bathed and ready for bed before walking back to our temporary home on wheels, hand-in-hand, alone. Brad led me to the back, to our bedroom, stopping momentarily to grab a bottle of Champagne from the refrigerator. Two wine glasses sat on the bedside table and a condom lay on my pillow.

I knew I was in for a wild night, and it was.

* * * * *

The next morning began the mad rush to Christmas. Each day pretty-much blended into the next and each week became as much of a blur as the last. I vaguely remember spending the weekend helping Nathan and Barry move what was left of their things into their new apartment. There wasn’t much left. Mostly the big stuff and some heavy boxes. The things they needed to live. The bare necessities. The rest of the things had already been moved and unpacked and set up. The guest bedroom where the twins would sleep was already furnished and painted and decorated for little boys. Adult guests would just have to suck it up or go say in a No Tell Motel somewhere on the outskirts of the city. The twins gleefully spent their first night there that evening to sleep in their own double bed. Nathan and Barry had even bought them pyjamas and bathrobes and a change of clothes and underwear that would stay in apartment in their own set of drawers. They truly loved their godsons, and their godsons truly loved them.

Nathan phoned us later in the evening to give us an update. “They fought us about going to bed until Barry threatened to take away their ‘Pootie’ badges of they didn’t go.”

“They went to bed.” That was Barry’s voice in the background.

“I checked in on them about 5 minutes later,” Nathan continued, “and they were all curled up with each other and sound asleep. I envy you seeing that every day, Ted.”

Nathan filled us in on all the details of their evening together - a play-by-play report of every single bite of both food and snack they ate, every single sneeze, every single cough, every single burp, every single trip to the bathroom, and every single fart that happened during all that other wonderful stuff. And we heard about the adventure all over again from the boys when they came back home the next day... and for days and days afterward.

A phone call of a far-more... um... ‘interesting’ nature came about a week later. Both Brad and I were awakened from a dead sleep by the ringing of my telephone which was sitting on the bedside table beside the clock alarm. I sat up abruptly and swung my legs out of bed before turning on the table lamp and grabbing up my phone. The clock read 2:04 AM. I didn’t recognise the phone number or even the area code. “Hello!” I said with a healthy helping of urgency.

“Hello, Ted?”

The woman’s voice was soft and whispery. I didn’t recognise that, either. “Who is this?”

“It’s me, Connie.”

“Connie! What are you calling me for at this time of night?” I asked. “What’s wrong?” Brad was sitting up beside me now. He leaned in close and I tilted the phone so he could listen as well.

“It’s not that late, is it?” she asked. “It should only be 8 o’clock there.”

“Connie, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning. You’ve got it backwards.”

“Oh, Ted, I’m so sorry,” she apologised. “I thought you were behind our time. I’ll hang up and let you get back to sleep.”

“No! It’s okay. Don’t hang up. I’m awake now. Just tell me why you called.”

There was a rather lengthy pause before she spoke again. “I’m really sorry I woke you up, Ted,” she said again. “Did I wake up Brad, too?”

“Yes,” I replied. “He’s right here and listening.”

Brad cut in. “Is that okay?”

“I don’t mind, Brad,” Connie said and then fell silent again.

I became impatient and coaxed her. “Why did you call, Connie?”

“I... um... just wanted to talk to you. I need to know something, Ted.” Another pause and then, “Are you still happy, Ted? I mean, really happy like when we were first married?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you happy, too, Brad?”

“Yes, Connie,” Brad replied, “I am. Very happy.”

Almost sadly, she added, “And Lindsay?”

“Yes, and Justin and Jeremy, too. They’re all very happy.”

Very quietly and somewhat sadly, she said, “Then I’m happy for you.”

The phone went silent then. I counted the seconds. When I reached sixty: “Are you still there, Connie.”

“Yes, Ted,” came her gloomy whisper, “I’m still here.” It actually saddened me to hear the sorrow in her voice.

“Why did you really call, Connie? It can’t be just to hear that we’re happy here.”

There was a short pause before she answered. “Can I speak with you alone, please, Ted?”

“Sure,” I told her. “Hang on a sec.”

“I’ll go,” Brad said as he rolled away.

“No,” I told him. “I’ll go.” I rolled out of bed and shoved my arms into the sleeves of my bathrobe as I headed to the bedroom doorway. I pulled the door closed behind me and made my way into the kitchen where I sat down at the table, my back to the twins sleeping in the loft behind, me and said, “Okay, Connie. I’m alone.”

There was more silence for a moment or two and then she said softly, “I don’t know how to say this, Ted.”

“The easiest way is just to say it.”

I heard her take a deep, steadying breath. “I’m very happy for you, Ted. I really am. I’m happy that you and Brad are so happy together and that the kids are happy, too. I want you to believe that. I need you to believe it.”

“I do, Connie,” I told her, and I meant it.

There was another lengthy pause and I waited until she was ready to break it. “I...” she said finally. “I want... I want to be happy like you, Ted.”

“You can be as happy as you want to be, Connie.”

“I know,” she replied. “That’s why I called you. I’ve...” She trailed off and I waited patiently for the rest of her thought. It came sooner than I thought it would. “I’ve met someone, Ted.”

“That’s great, Connie. Congratulations. Who is he?”

“His name is Amos. He’s my boss.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she continued a little more enthusiastically. “He gave me a job as a cashier in his grocery store. He owns it. It’s not a big store, but it’s the only one in the neighbourhood and everybody goes there. I’ve been working there since August. A week or so after I started, he asked me out to dinner. We’ve been out quite a few times since then.”

“That’s wonderful, Connie” I told her, putting as much encouragement into my voice as I could muster at 2 o’clock in the morning. “You sound excited.”

Her voice became soft again, as if she was afraid of what she was going to say. “I am, I think. Ted, he asked me to marry him today.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I would have to think about it.” After a short pause, she said, “I don’t know, Ted. I think I want to, but...”

“What’s holding you back?”

Her response startled me. “You,” she said.

“Me?”

“I need you to tell me I’m doing the right thing if I decide to marry him.”

“I can’t tell you that, Connie. Nobody can. Now, listen to me carefully. You’re the only one who can make that decision. This will affect your entire future. You’re the only one who can decide if you want that future to include Amos.” I waited a moment to let that sink in and then I asked, “Can I ask you something? Does he make you happy?”

“I’m happy when I’m with him, Ted, and I think about him when I’m not.”

“Does it feel right to you?”

A moment of thought followed, and then, “Remember how we were when we were dating, Ted? The way I felt about you? I think that’s how I feel about Amos.” There was another pause, and then floodgates opened up: “He’s not rich, Ted. He makes good money from his store but he’s not rich by any means. He owns his own home. It’s a small two-bedroom bungalow and it desperately needs repainting and updating and redecorating. It sort of reminds me of my grandmother’s house. But it’s comfortable. His car spends more time at the mechanic’s than in his driveway. He’s not even particularly handsome. He’s a bit overweight – well, maybe a bit more than a bit - and he’s going bald his hair is going grey. But he’s kind and gentle and he cares about people. He’s a good Christian, Ted. Remember Martin?” Martin was a friend of ours in college. He was like Warren: incorrigibly sweet and gentle. He died in a car crash just a few weeks before his graduation. “Amos is a lot like him. He would do anything for anyone.”

“Does that bother you?”

There was no pause this time. “No. You know me, Ted. He’s not the type of man I could ever be attracted to let alone want to marry. I don’t know why he likes me and I don’t know why I like him, but we just found each other and we’re happy together.” I was about to comment on that, but she quickly added, “Now I understand about you and Brad. I never understood before, but I do now. I understand how you can feel about each other the way you do. I understand how you can love each other. I finally understand, Ted, because it’s the same with me and Amos. I feel terrible about the way I treated the two of you. I hate myself for it. I want you to tell that to Brad for me, please. Can you ever forgive me, Ted?”

“Yes, Connie. I can forgive you, and I do.”

“Thank you, Ted.”

“Do you love him, Connie?”

Another pause fallowed, and then she whispered, “Yes, I do.”

“Then you have your answer, Connie.”

“So,” she began rather hesitantly, “you’re giving me your permission to marry him?”

“No. You don’t need my permission, Connie. You’re old enough to give yourself permission.”

“Your approval, then?”

“You don’t even need that from me.”

“Yes I do, Ted.” I could hear the need in her voice. “Please? I need to know that you’re happy for me.”

A smile came to my face. Even after all we had been through, she still needed me. “Yes, Connie, I approve, and I wish you all the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you, Ted.”

From the way she said it, I suspected there was more and I asked her if there was. After a moment, she said, “No,” and then immediately said, “Yes. It’s about Lindsay.”

“Okay,” I said with some reservation.

“Has she started asking about me?” she asked.

“No.”

“Does she talk about me yet?”

“No.”

“Do you think she ever will?”

“I can’t answer that, Connie. It’s her decision. Not ours. But if she does,” I explained, “I’ll never stop her, but I won’t encourage her, either. I know she’s still afraid of you. She was a wreck when she found out you were getting out of prison. She was afraid you were going to try to get her back. I don’t ever want to see her like that again. If she decides she wants to get in touch when she grows up, I’ll help her, but that’s all I can promise you.”

There was a really long pause this time before she said in a very humbled voice, “I really messed it up, didn’t I, Ted? All because of money.” I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. Her saying it out loud was more for her to hear than for me. I left her with that thought until she added with finality: “I messed it up for everybody, including me. I lost everything. This is my penance.” I said nothing, waiting instead for Connie to speak. Finally, I heard a heavy, strained sigh. A few breaths later, she asked her final question: “Do you hate me, Ted?”

Just as calmly and quietly, I answered, “No, I don’t, Connie.” And then I added, “Not anymore.”

“Thank you, Ted. I can only pray that you and Lindsay can find it in your hearts to forgive me one day for everything I did to you. Goodbye, Ted.”

“Bye, Connie. Keep in touch with me. Let me know how you’re doing.”

“I will, Ted. Bye.”

I sat there for a few minutes after disconnecting, thinking. Connie had changed. She wasn’t even the person I had fallen in love with back in college. She was a totally different person than any of the personalities I had known before. I actually felt good knowing that she had finally found the happiness she deserved, the happiness that she wanted, and not the fake happiness she desired and craved - the one which had destroyed both her family and ours.

I went back to the bedroom, dropping my robe to the floor and crawling naked under the covers and into the arms of my wonderful husband. He held me gently and lovingly. After a moment or two, he spoke my name into the darkness.

I responded. “She’s getting married, Brad. She won’t be bothering us anymore.” I felt the huge sigh of relief more than I heard it. And then he held me closer and we fell asleep.

* * * * *

The house wasn’t quite ready to move into yet, but it was fully wired, plumbed, and heated, and was even wired (but not connected) for the alarm system that Brad had insisted on getting reinstalled. This one would be hooked up to the smoke alarms. Grant gave us permission to decorate the outside façade (ground floor only) and to put up the small tree I had bought for the front bay window in the lounge. A roll of quilt batting made a nice snowscape on the sitting bench in front of the windows and, between Terry, Bernice, and the children, small, empty boxes all wrapped and tied with pretty ribbons and bows, made a wonderful display of Christmas presents. Home-made paper snowflakes, coated lightly with spray glue and sprinkled with silver and gold sprinkles, decorated the windows. Sparkly garland trimmed each of the three window panes. With John Hayes’ help, he, Brad, and I had the outside eaves, the garage, the front door, and the bay window decorated with hundreds of lights. A homemade wreath of spruce bows, plastic (but realistic) holly, pine cones, and white ribbon hung on the front door. The children were proud of that wreath. More proud than the grandmothers and the nanny who helped them make it.

We couldn’t wait to move in so we could decorate the inside and spend our first Christmas as a family in our own home. It would have to wait a little while longer, though. It had been a long and rough road, frightening at times, terrifying at others, but it was all coming together. Slowly but surely, our future was coming together and I was anxious for it to do so.

A few weeks after moving Nathan and Barry into their new apartment, one week to the day before Christmas, it was our turn to move out of the Winnebago and into our new home. Grant had kept his promise to us. We spent the entire week packing up our stuff into boxes and bags and one full day cleaning the camper to its original splendour, both inside and out. What we needed, we kept in the Winnebago. What could be moved was piled in the new garage until we could sort and unpack it. Delivery trucks came and went and Spencer was there to choreograph the whole thing. Furniture and appliances and household items were carefully manoeuvred around the labourers to prepare our ‘living quarters’ for habitation. We would definitely be home for Christmas.

It was with some sadness, but also with a great deal of gratitude and relief, that, after dinner with John and Bernice, we drove the empty and cleaned camper, our home for the last several months, back to its owners. Brad drove the Winnebago, stopping only to drain the tanks and wash them out one final time. I followed him in the van with the twins. Even Lindsay went with us to say her ‘goodbyes’ even though she had spent most of the time living with her grandmother and grandfather in the house.

Back home after the drop-off, I parked the van in the spot where the Winnebago had been parked. John had already removed the water supply pipe and electrical conduit. Our new house was lit up with house lights and Christmas lights. It was beautiful. Then, as a family, we walked across the lawns and, for the first time as a family, we opened the door and stepped over the threshold and entered our new home. Grant was there to greet us with an enormous smile and eyes filled with pride at keeping his promise. For the first time in several months, the entire family would sleep under the same roof and in our brand new house.

Grant gave us a brief tour of our living quarters, such as they were. With the upstairs still under construction and blocked off, we were restricted to the lower floor, and even two rooms there still needed major finishing work done, one of which would be a temporary bedroom for Brad and me. A few others still needed minor touch-ups.

The entryway was completely tiled and painted and the stairway was finished except for the treads. They were temporary and would be replaced and finished when construction was completed. The downstairs bathroom off the entryway was ready for use, also tiled and painted, and completely fitted with a toilet, double vanity, and shower/tub combination. The den/livingroom was carpeted and painted. Even the fireplace was usable. It was, in fact, lit for us, flames dancing and sending out a soothing and relaxing warmth. Our new sofa was set in the middle of the room perpendicular to the patio doors and facing the fireplace. Our new big-screen TV hung above the wide mantle. A new coffee table sat in front the sofa and the matching chair was set against the wall under a window near the fireplace to the left of the patio doors. A new, plush, reclining lounge chair sat on the diagonal against the wall to the left of the door leading into the office library where Lindsay would sleep on the installed Murphy bed there. A double mattress leaning against the kitchen railing behind the sofa would be a makeshift bedroom for the twins.

The kitchen, just beyond the railing and rising two steps above the den, was mostly finished except for a portion of the backsplash, the range hood, and the centre island. The island was constructed in place but not connected to the services yet and lacked a counter top. The installers had dropped it outside when they were delivering it and snapped off a corner. The replacement, we were assured, would be installed before Christmas. The eating nook, tucked in the corner near the railing, was complete and waiting for us to make our bumprints in the thick, stain-resistant cushions which covered the U-shaped bench. It would easily fit our family with room for a few more if we squeezed in tightly.

Both the diningroom just off the kitchen and the lounge beyond, at the front of the house, were drywalled and roughly spackled, but Grant assured us that the dining room would be done within a few days, but he couldn’t guarantee the painting. Trim would be installed when the rest was done, but it probably wouldn’t be finished completely until after Christmas. The front lounge, our temporary bedroom, would not be finished until after the New Year. Spencer’s custom buffet had already been installed. The fireplace in the lounge, opposite the two steps leading back down to the entryway, wasn’t hooked up yet but, since it would be a temporary bedroom for Brad and me, it wouldn’t be a problem. We would sleep on an air mattress. Grant apologised profusely for that, but no sense complaining about it. We would adapt. If worse came to worst (or if better came to best), we could move the air mattress to the den and exchange it with the twins’ mattress and the four of us would sleep there. But, with Christmas around the corner, we knew space would be tight.

Lindsay considered it an inconvenience. The twins considered it an adventure. Brad and I considered it nothing more than a sacrifice we would have to make for our family. We would survive until the whole house was completed the next spring and nothing would be temporary again.

The next day being Sunday, we spent the morning decorating the den and setting up the Christmas tree between the chair and the patio doors. John and Bernice came over and Mom and Dad drove into town to help. Mom had eggnog for both children and adults. The children could have it with or without nutmeg, but the adult eggnog contained both. (There was more of one than the other, and I’m not talking about the red stuff floating on top.) Bernice had brought over a plateful of colourful, festively-decorated Christmas cookies of every shape. She had done them by herself as a surprise for the kids. They looked better than the cookies you’d find in a bake shop.

Of course, the first thing Lindsay did was to set up her beloved village on the fireplace mantle. She did it by herself for the most part, helped only by her grandmothers when their help was needed. She spent a long time arranging the buildings and then spent a longer time arranging the snow-tipped trees, bushes, and village people and village items until she was completely satisfied with it. When she was finished, she stood proudly in front of the fireplace and her village for photos. We took lots.

Meanwhile, Brad and I took a back seat after we assembled the tree, allowing the grandfathers to help Justin and Jeremy decorate it except for the Currier and Ives ornaments Neil had given to Lindsay. She refused to entrust the task of hanging them on the tree to anyone else but herself. Brad and I were consigned to all the high decorations and lights which required a stepladder. We stopped for a quick lunch and finished up in the early afternoon. Lifted by Dad and John, the twins each held an arm of Lindsay’s star and placed it carefully over the top sprig of the tree. The Christmas decorating was finished. The star was a bit lopsided, leaning to the left, but Justin and Jeremy were thrilled by what they’d done and we left it that way. By that time, though, the boys were running on empty and didn’t complain when we put them down for a nap on our air mattress in the lounge while the rest of us sat down for tea and coffee and chitchat.

December 23rd came and went with little fanfare. Brad had insisted upon it. It was his birthday, of course, but Brad didn’t want a birthday party. He finally gave in to a mom-made birthday cake and some gifts, but no guests and absolutely no party. “We don’t have the time or the money to waste on one,” he told me firmly. “I don’t need a party, Pops. Just you and the kids, that’s all I want.”

Still, it was almost a party if you take the cake and the gifts into account. Bernice had, of course, made a cake for Brad – single-layer and rectangular lemon cake. She frosted it with white frosting and then let the kids decorate it with red, yellow, green, and blue icing she’d put into piping bags. Lindsay had written ‘Happy Birthday Brad’ in two lines using the blue icing. She hadn’t quite conquered the piping bags and ended up printing each letter and word without releasing the pressure on the bag between letters and words enough. As a result, everything was connected for the most part with long, skimpy lines running from the end of one word or letter to the beginning of the next. Justin had drawn what was supposed to be a red police car, but it looked like someone had dropped a dump truck on top of it. Jeremy had drawn a yellow and green Spider-Man... from Alpha Centauri. Brad loved it and made sure I got a good picture of it before we sliced it to pieces.

The gifts were sensible I suppose, depending upon who had given it to him. I gave him a new wallet and a keychain which matched the neck chain I had given him a long time ago and which I don’t remember him ever taking off. Lindsay gave him two pairs of gardening gloves and a boxed set of gardening tools. Justin gave him a remote-controlled police car which, I was certain, our son would gladly demonstrate how to drive... hour after hour after hour. Jeremy gave him a package of little Transformers, but he also gave Brad a wallet-sized photo of himself and his brother. It was the first photo to go into Brad’s new wallet.

Brad even gave me a present of sorts that night when the kids were asleep and the house was quiet. He let me watch. He saved the last mouthful and shared it with a most delicious kiss.

Before we knew it, it was Christmas Eve. The twins were a bundle of excitement and were so terrified of chasing Santa Claus away if he should come down the chimney and see them sleeping there beside the tree that we let them sleep with us on our air mattress in the lounge. They were concerned about the lack of snow until Dad had taken them on his knees a few days earlier and had told them that “Father Christmas has magic wheels on his sleigh which appear when there is no snow to land upon. He and his reindeer have had much experience landing where there is no snow. He will come.” Of course, the boys had to hang their empty stockings which they taped to the fireplace mantle and made sure to put out cookies and milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, making sure that there were nine of them. The biggest carrot was set away from the bunch. That was for Rudolf. The stockings, of course, would be removed from the mantle, filled, and set on the sofa along with the other things which wouldn’t fit in them.

Needless to say, it took longer than usual for them to finally fall asleep. Lindsay was tired from the day’s excitement and went to bed at her usual time. She was old enough to know that Santa wasn’t real, but still pretended he was for her brothers. To her, that was just as much fun as believing in the ‘Jolly Old Elf’ anyway. When the house was quiet and the kids were finally asleep, Brad and I got busy. Brad and his father carried boxes and garbage bags full of presents which we’d stored at his parents’ place, setting them on the stone wall where I waited to carry them inside through the back patio door. I couldn’t wait until next year when the sunroom would be built and I could stand inside until the packages were there. There was no snow, but it was cool outside. I should have worn my coat.

When all of the gifts had been brought over, John wished us a happy Christmas, reminding us that he and Bernice would be over around eleven o’clock with their gifts for us and the kids. Mom and dad would drive into town as well. Bernice already had the turkey I’d bought and she would cook it for the most part and finish it up in our oven when she brought it over in the morning. After all, our parents would be joining us for Christmas dinner later in the afternoon.

Brad helped me carry in the last of the packages and then we set about sorting the gifts, filling the stockings (all five of them), and loading the tree. Brad and I filled the other’s stocking. He stayed in the livingroom. I went to the kitchen. The stockings were set upright on the sofa, leaning against the back. The kids’ stockings were in the middle, framed by mine and Brad’s stockings on either end. What couldn’t fit in the stockings was set around the foot on the cushions. When we finished piling the gifts under the tree, we couldn’t even get to the patio doors. Brad and I shared the cookies, leaving crumbs on the plate, and drank most of the milk. The carrots were put back into the crisper in the refrigerator.

When we were happy that Christmas had arrived, we locked up the house, turned off the fireplace and turned off the lights, watching as the nightlights automatically came on. We went to join our sons on the air mattress and they crawled into our arms and settled their heads on our chests without even waking up. Brad and I quickly joined them in slumber after our ‘Merry Christmas’ kiss, of course.

* * * * *

There were no tiny knuckles knocking on my chest the next morning. Instead, there were heavy knuckles thumping on it and an excited and little boy who I guessed to be Justin bouncing on my stomach and screaming at me to wake up. “Daddy! Daddy! Santa came!” Justin shouted. “Santa came!” his brother joined him. “He found us and he came!” I glanced at Brad and saw that he was suffering the same wake-up call that I was receiving. I grabbed Justin’s hands and smiled up at him as I tried to sit up. It wasn’t easy what with him sitting on me until Brad pushed me up with one hand far enough for Justin to slide into my lap. Brad sat up easily.

“Hurry, Daddy! Santa came! He found us!” That was from Justin.

“He left us lots and lots of presents!” That, of course, was his brother.

Brad smiled at him and asked, “How do you know he left lots and lots of presents?”

As if they’d rehearsed it, Justin said, “We didn’t peek, Daddy.” Jeremy added, “Only a little bit.”

That earned them a healthy helping of hugs and kisses before we climbed out of bed and got both them and ourselves into our bathrobes and slippers. We took them by the hand and led them down the two steps into the entryway and to the bathroom. We helped them go pee first and wash their hands before Brad and I took our turn in front of the toilet. When we were washed and dried, we took their hands again and led them to the livingroom. I sent them to wake up Lindsay, but not to go into her room, as I turned on the Christmas lights around the doors and plugged in the tree before turning on the stereo which was set to my favourite station. It was playing Christmas music without commercial interruption and would do so all day long. I then turned on the gas fireplace as Brad went back to the lounge to light the front tree and window lights and then the outside lights. They would all remain lighted all day until we went to bed that night.

The boys ran back to the tree, followed closely behind by their sister. At my instruction, they knelt on the warm, carpeted floor facing the sofa and their respective stockings, staring at the goodies that awaited them. Brad and I sat on the sofa arms at either end, our stockings, not quite as stuffed as the children’s stockings, framed the trio. When we were all settled, I gave the word and Christmas Day officially began.

The kids’ stockings were filled to overflowing with the usual small toys and tooth brushes, combs and hair brushes, crayons and colouring books, and small Clementine oranges, candies in plastic wrappings, an assortment of nuts and toffees, and other things that would keep them happy and amused as we prepared breakfast. What didn’t fit in the stocking was laid out at the base. “Look, Daddy Brad!” Jeremy said gleefully as he held up a handful of candy bars. “Santa knows what kind of chock’lit we like!”

“Well, how about that,” Brad said. “Santa is a really smart man, isn’t he?”

The twins were already making ‘yummy’ sounds and they hadn’t even opened one of the chocolate bars yet, and they knew they couldn’t. It was a rule.

Among other things, my stocking included a rechargeable electric razor which I desperately needed. My old razor was knackered. It could barely shave off a 5 o’clock shadow at 11 o’clock in the morning let alone day-old whiskers. When Brad finished going though his things, he came around the back of the sofa to give me the first ‘thank you’ kiss of the day, especially for what he had found stuffed into the toe of his stocking: two of the sexiest and bluest Speedos I could find and a six-pack of the skimpiest, most colourful bikini briefs in town.

“Do you really expect me to fit into these” he asked, chuckling and whispering into my ear as he held the underwear in his hand. “They don’t even look big enough to fit my nuts in let alone my you-know-what.”

“I know,” I said with a lewd grin and wink, “but I can’t wait to see you try.”

It’s a good thing the kids were busy with their toys. They would have had to wait a long time for Brad to stop kissing me. “Only for you, Pops.” And then he whispered, “Are you growing wood yet?” He smiled wickedly when I nodded, then returned to the other end of the sofa so he could watch the kids sorting through all their stuff.

The boring things were stuffed back into the kids’ stockings but the fun stuff was carried to the kitchen table so the kids could play until breakfast was ready. They knew the rule: no presents until they’d eaten breakfast. It was a simple rule and a routine they had learned last year in our old house and it was easy to remember since they had never had a real Christmas before. The stocking toys were enough to keep them occupied through the boring wait between the stockings and the bigger presents under the tree.

It was a big day and a big tree with a pile of presents under it, so I won’t bore you with an itemized play-by-play list of gifts. Suffice it to say that, for the most part, many of the gifts for the kids were replacements for their favourite things which had been lost in the fire. “Santa knew what burneded up!” Jeremy exclaimed happily as he caressed his new collection of action figures. Justin was just as thrilled with his cars. Lindsay loved her collection of Lucy Maud Montgomery books along with the complete Road to Avonlea television series starring Sarah Polley to go along with the Anne of Green Gables television movies with Meagan Follows which I had given to her for her birthday a few months earlier. She also received a lot of unicorns and faerie figurines to fill her shelves when her bedroom was finished. The kids were as excited about the replacements as they were with the new things they received. Except for Lindsay, who fawned over her new wardrobe, the new clothes for the twins weren’t met with the same enthusiasm and excitement as race cars, toy trucks, and Power Ranger action figures.

It was getting late in the morning and we were still sorting everything and arranging it all into separate piles for each of us under the tree, making sure that there was room for the presents which would arrive when the grandparents showed up. They started arriving before we were finished. John and Bernice showed up first, laden with gifts, and there were more at home. John sent me and Brad over to get the rest as they eagerly placed what they had brought under the tree. The twins’ eyes grew with every present placed under it, and they grew even more as Brad and I added our armloads to the pile.

“The turkey will be done about 3 o’clock,” Bernice said. “I decided to finish it there instead of here. Bradley can go over with me to help me make the gravy and carry it back for me.”

Mom and Dad showed up about 20 minutes later with their arms full of gifts as well. Dad asked John to accompany him for the next trip and Brad and I offered to go, but Dad insisted that he and John could handle it. John pulled on his coat and followed Dad out the door as Brad and I helped arrange the gifts. Mom and Bernice headed for the kitchen to prepare tea and coffee for everyone and to start preparations for our Christmas dinner later in the afternoon. I was almost ready to go to the door to find out what was taking John and Dad so long but, just as I was opening the door, they were approaching it, arms loaded. I stepped aside to let them in and then, just as I was closing it, another car pulled into the driveway. I knew that car. “Brad!” I called. He came and stood beside me as we watched Bill and Warren climbing out of their car and we were met with Warren’s beaming face.

“Are you just going to stand there, Bradley,” he called out, “or are you going to get that gorgeous butt of yours out here to help Bill?” Of course, Brad hurried out without his jacket to help. Warren stopped him long enough to give him a Christmas kiss in the middle of the driveway, holding a piece of plastic mistletoe over Brad’s head just to make it official and legal, not to mention funny.

It was a Warren-sized kiss, hugging Brad with one arm which quickly slid down and came to rest on Brad’s left butt cheek. “Warren!” I said. “Hands off. You won’t find any presents there.”

Warren broke the kiss and looked my way. “Too late, Teddy! I already found one, and it’s just my size!” After a few pats on the butt, Warren let Brad go and came forward. When he reached the doorway, he held the mistletoe over my head and began to lean in for the kiss

I grabbed his arm and lowered it. “You don’t need that, Warren,” I said as I grabbed him in my arms, pulled him in to me, and gave him the most ‘best friend’ kiss and the biggest hug I could give him. We stopped hugging only when Bill and Brad interrupted us to get inside. We separated and stepped aside to allow our husbands to pass. “What are you doing here?” I asked as I closed the door.

“Don’t be so dense, Teddy, he said as we walked toward the livingroom down the entryway. “It’s your first Christmas in your new house and it’s your first Christmas as a real family. Do you seriously think I would miss being part of it?”

“But they already opened your gifts this morning.”

Warren shrugged. “So they’ll open a few more this afternoon. Christmas is for children. Sue me.”

I pulled him into another hug. “Just having you here is the best Christmas present you could ever give me, Warren.” I finally pushed away from the hug, but held his arms. “Now, come on and let the twins show you their presents.” I threw my left arm over his shoulders and led him into the den.

The kids were still playing there, more interested in their new toys than in what was going on around them. Dad and John sat on the sofa, watching. Brad and Bill were busy examining all the toys the kids had received. Mom and Bernice were still working in the kitchen. I noticed that a few chairs had been brought out from the diningroom. I was taking photos of Warren on the floor watching the twins excitedly pointing out all of their new things when the doorbell rang. I set out to answer it when I heard the door open and close, and then a familiar voice shouted, “Merry Christmas!” It was Nathan and I knew that Barry wouldn’t be far behind. I went to greet them and, sure enough, there was Barry standing there with a garbage bag overflowing with wrapped packages as he kicked off his shoes and added them to the growing pile of footwear just inside the door. The closet was getting full of jackets and coats as well.

“Ho ho ho,” Nathan laughed with a huge smile on his face, matched only by the one on Barry’s face. Barry grabbed up the bag of gifts and, for the first time ever, they followed me into our new home. We were on our way to the livingroom when our guests were met with 2 little whirlwinds flying at them as fast as their legs could carry them and jumping into their arms. Barry managed to set down the gifts before a whirlwind named Jeremy landed in his arms. Nathan was almost knocked flat on his ass by the whirlwind named Justin. There were more than enough hugs and kisses to go around for all four of them.

With another ‘ho ho ho’ from Nathan, my camera flash went into overdrive. I counted in my head how many people were in there as they followed the boys to the tree and knelt down to look at all their gifts. The boys never seemed to tire of showing them to anybody who made the error of getting down on their knees to look. As Brad was unloading the gifts from the green garbage bag, I knelt beside Barry and threw my right hand over his shoulders. “What in hell is going on here, Barry?” I was serious, but smiling.

“Nothing’s ‘going on’, Ted,” Barry said. “Nathan just wanted to be here when the kids opened their gifts and I decided to follow along.”

“But they already...”

“I know,” Barry cut in, “but that was just round ‘one’.” He nodded in Nathan’s direction. “This is round ‘two’. This one is for us as much as them.”

Before long, the twins were playing with their godfathers and uncles. Lindsay was still busy in the kitchen showing her grandmothers all of her new ornaments and books when they could spare a moment to stop and look. I had just poured myself another tea and had sat back down in the spot I had secured for myself in the chair beside the tree and was just about to take a sip when, once again, the doorbell rang. I was about to set my tea onto the coffee table when Brad jumped up and said, “I’ll get it, Pops.” Dad, John, and I continued our discussion of the construction and what still needed to be done downstairs. I was explaining what we still wanted to do in the den and front lounge when I heard my name being said and I looked toward the voice. Standing there beside Brad were Brook and David. I jumped up to greet them and, after our hugs and kisses, I turned to our fathers who were already standing and facing us, then to our mothers who were standing at the railing with Lindsay between them, looking at us and smiling. “Will someone please tell me what in heck is going on here?”

“Geseënde Kersfees, my Sonskyn,” Dad said, followed quickly by John Hayes saying, “Merry Christmas.” Then everyone echoed the sentiments. “Merry Christmas.” Everyone, that is, except Warren. He motioned for Lindsay to come down from the kitchen to join him. He held out his hand and Lindsay took it. Brad had taken a place at my side, his arm coming around my back. Warren looked me in the eyes and said, “Merry Christmas, Teddy. You can thank your daughter for this. It was all her idea.”

I looked down at Lindsay. She was looking up at me with a shy smile on her face, but it was a happy one. I reached down to pick her up, giving her a big hug and kiss when I did so. “Thank you, Sweetheart,” I said with a crackly, emotional voice. “Why did you do all this?”

“I knew you and Brad would be happy if your friends were here, too.” And then she asked, “Did it make you happy?”

I gave her another hug and said, “It sure did, Sweetheart.”

She looked at Brad who then who also gave her a hug and kiss. “Me, too, Lindsay. You’ve made us all very, very happy.”

Somehow, we got through the second round of gifts with Warren and David (who announced proudly that he was the only one short enough to be and official elf) handing them out. Then, while Nathan and Brook and Bill began cleaning up the mess in the den, Mom and Bernice adjourned to the kitchen once again while Dad and John corralled me and Brad, David, Bill, and Barry. I was about to find out how big this surprise really was. Bill paired up with me and led me to his car. David joined Barry and followed him to Barry’s car. Brad went with Dad to Dad’s car. John and Brook went to David’s car to start unloading it. In minutes, we were carrying chairs and boxes of food into the house. The food went to the kitchen. The chairs were divided between the den and the diningroom. The dining table was pulled out all the way and all of the leaves were put into it. Two chairs were set at angles at each rounded end and 4 chairs were set along each side. Three more chairs were set against the outside wall beneath the window there and a TV tray was set in front of them facing the ‘grown-up table’.

When the cars were empty, John and Dad took David, Barry, and Bill with them to the Hayes’ home. Brad and I were told to stay there with the kids and to help Mom and Bernice. Along with Nathan and Warren, we began setting the tables after Bernice and Mom had covered them with festive plastic tablecloths. Even the TV trays were covered with similar cloths. Each TV tray had its own place setting – one each for Justin and Jeremy with Lindsay’s place to the side. It would be a bit cramped with everyone in the room, but we would manage somehow.

The potatoes and yams and carrots were boiling on the stove. Dad and John led a convoy of strong, healthy young men carrying boxes of food and turkeys. Yes, plural. There were two turkeys, Mom had cooked one and Bernice had cooked one. On turkey would have been enough for us and our parents, but we had no idea Mom was roasting another for the friends who would surprise us. This meal had been carefully planned for the number of people who would be eating it, and neither Brad nor I new anything about it. It had been a well-kept secret indeed.

David carried one huge roaster full of one turkey with several foil-covered bowls on top. His muscled bulged, but I knew there was no effort on his face to show how heavy the load was. Heck, if David could carry two co-workers on his shoulders, a turkey and a few bowls of whatever was in them wouldn’t mean much to him. Seeing him walking beside Barry, who was also carrying a turkey, it still amazed me that his diminutive body had just as much strength in it as Barry’s. I never tired of looking at them, especially when they were side-by-side as they were.

But I digress.

The twins were far too wound up to even think of sleeping and we couldn’t coax them into a nap no matter how hard we tried, so we continued with our plans to have dinner at four o’clock. And so it was that, shortly after the kids were seated at their TV trays with Lindsay sitting beside them and the adults seated around the grown-up table, Bernice said grace for us and it was time to eat. A huge platter of carved turkey was set at each end along with a gravy boat beside each. Another gravy boat sat in the middle of the table beside the centrepiece. A dish of homemade whole-berry cranberry sauce sat beside each gravy boat. All of the other food (and there was a lot of it) was spread over the table wherever there was room and more bowls were set on other TV trays at the outside corners. Even more was set on the passthrough buffet Stewart had designed and, if it was needed, there was still more food on the island in the kitchen if we somehow managed to eat everything on the tables.

The candles in the centrepiece were lit and the kids were called forward to select what they wanted to eat. Mom filled Lindsay’s plate. I filled Justin’s plate and Brad,of course, filled Jeremy’s. When they had what they wanted, the kids took their places against the wall and Brad carried their plates to them. The plates were far too hot for tiny fingers. When he had finished taking Lindsay’s plate to her, he sat back down and dug in.

I sat at the outside corner of the table farthest from the kitchen. Warren sat to my right. Along the wall sat Bill, David, Brook, and then Barry. Nathan sat on the inside corner at the other end beside Brad. Mom sat next to Brad, then Dad, John, and Bernice. The two grandmothers had sat near the ends of the table so they could get out easily to tend to the kids or get more food when necessary.

It had been growing darker as we prepared to sit down and eat and it grew darker with every minute that passed. The Christmas lights from the den and from the front bay windows cast a cheerful rainbow glow throughout the house and made a great day even greater. Dinner eventually wound down and everybody was patting their bellies and loosening belts (or, for those not wearing belts, unbuttoning the top button of their pants) hoping that they had left enough room for the dessert that awaited us out on the kitchen counter. The kids had joined us at the grown-ups table with the twins sitting in our respective laps and Lindsay squeezed in between her grandfathers.

With help from Nathan and Brad, Mom and Bernice soon had the table cleared. It would have been nice to havee had the dish washer hooked up, but, with Mom and Bernice packing up the food, Brad and Nathan started on the dishes. David ended up climbing over both Brook and Barry to go help them. Brad had handed Jeremy off to Barry who sat comfortably in his godfather’s lap. It wasn’t long before most of the work was done in the kitchen and the table now held plates of various cookies, bars and squares, and other Christmas treats. There were two large bowls of Trifle, non-alcoholic, on each end of the table along with a number of dessert bowls and several small stacks of napkins and a stack of paper dessert plates with a blue floral pattern around the rims. Everybody took their previous seats, including Jeremy, who was passed from Barry to Nathan, and then to Brad, where he immediately grabbed a cookie from the nearest tray.

It was about that time that Warren rose from his chair beside me and called for attention. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to him. He began talking as he cast his eyes around the room. “First of all, I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today and fixing the food you brought to make a little girl’s Christmas wish come true, from the carrots and turkeys to the potatoes and pickles and rolls and everything else from our feast and pretty much everything else you’ve seen this afternoon. It was all Lindsay’s doing. And special thanks go to Nathan who organised the whole thing, but rest assured that everything he did was imagined by Lindsay. She told Nathan what she wanted and he made it happen. The only thing she couldn’t make happen was having Terry and Tom with us. They had already made plans to spend Christmas with Tom’s parents down east, but I’m sure a portion of their thoughts are here with us.” He looked directly at Lindsay and with an enormous and proud smile, said, “Thank you, Princess. You have given us a Christmas Day that none of us are likely ever to forget.”

He took a quick sip of water and continued. “Lindsay asked me earlier if I would tell a story about Ted and me to let our supper settle a bit before dessert. I thought of hundreds of stories, but if I told them, we’d have to plug six little ears with cotton and wrap them in seven layers of duct tape. But I did think of a story that’s sort of a Christmas story, and it’s G-rated for the most part.”

Warren paused a moment before launching into his story. “I’ve known Teddy since we were 5 years old and I’ve known Mom and Dad de Villiers just as long. I was always welcome in their home and I sometimes think I spent more time there than in my own home with my own mother and father.” He turned to me and put his left hand on my right shoulder. “Teddy here was my best friend in the whole world back than and I wouldn’t be lying if I said that I wouldn’t have had a single friend if we hadn’t met. I cherish you, Teddy, and I thank you for wanting to be my friend. Now and always.”

He gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze and let go. He took another drink before continuing. “When we were 11 or 12, Teddy wanted a new skateboard, but Mom and Dad de Villiers told him he had to earn the money himself if he wanted it, so he got himself a job delivering newspapers for the local newspaper. He would ride his bike and I would follow him on my own bike. He saved all of the money from the paper and his tips and had enough to buy his skateboard within a few weeks, but he kept delivering so he could buy a new 3-speed bike as well.

“One day a week or so before Christmas, we were a bit late getting the drop-off and it was after supper before we were able to head out for the deliveries. Teddy always delivered the papers. I just tagged along. But that day, I helped him by delivering the papers on the other side of the street so we could get done faster. There were three houses side-by-side in one block on my side of the street and I rode into the middle driveway and dropped my bike there. I ran to the house to the right and was pushing the paper through the letterbox when I heard an engine start, and then I heard a crunch. The car at the middle house had backed over my bike and squashed it. I mean, I couldn’t even push it home. Dad had to go and pick it up for me. The man was upset that he’d driven over my bike and offered to replace it, but dad wouldn’t let him. Instead, my Dad gave the man some money to buy the touch-up paint to fix the scratches on his car. I was devastated, of course. It was a crappy old bike, but it was still my bike, and there was no way to fix it. To make me feel better, Mom and Dad told me that they had already bought me a new bike for Christmas, but they also told me I couldn’t have it before then. Teddy had to deliver the papers by himself until I got my new bike.”

He glanced down at me and all I could do was to smirk at him and shake my head back and forth. I knew what was coming.

“So, to make a long story short...”

David shouted, “Too late!”

Everybody laughed, including the twins who laughed just because everyone else was laughing. Warren waited until the laughter died down and then went on with his story: “To make a long story shorter...” (He paused long enough to cast a warning glance at a still-grinning David.) “... I did a stupid, stupid thing. I found a box of wooden matches on the street and I was playing with them in my bedroom. I would light a match and hold it under the curtains in my room and then clap them in my hand to put out the sparks, but one of the times I did it, the sparks suddenly turned to flames and started to crawl up the toward the ceiling. I screamed and Mom and Dad came flying into the room. Mom grabbed me and Dad grabbed the curtains and pulled them down and and stomped them out on the floor. I thought he was going to kill me when he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out to the garage. Instead, he dug out the still-sealed box holding my brand new bike from it’s hiding place and carried it to the car. He threw it into the back seat and told me to get in the front. He drove right to the Canadian Tire store and got his money back. I wasn’t getting a new bike for Christmas. I cried for hours.”

Warren looked down at me then. I could hardly meet his gaze without cracking up. The story was coming to its end, and he finished it whilst looking at me. “So, there was Teddy, my best friend in the whole wide world with his brand new skate board and his brand new silver and blue 3-speed bicycle, and I asked if I could have his old bike. And Teddy, being the dear, sweet friend he was and still is today said... Do you remember what you said, Teddy?”

I couldn’t stop the grin from splitting my face. “I said you’re the idiot who set fire to your own friggin’ house, Warren! Not me! Get your own friggin’ job and buy your own friggin’ bike!”

Everybody burst into laughter again, some with tears leaking out of a few eyes. Warren was still looking at me and, with a twitch of his head, he lured me to my feet. We wrapped our arms around each other and hugged each other until the laughter died down. He released me and I sat down again. “And that was my friend,Ted,” He continued with a smile. “The best friend anyone could ever have... even if he was a stingy, stubborn, selfish son of a bitch.” The room burst out in raucous laughter again as Justin looked up at me upside down and laughed just as hard as the rest of us.

Still standing, Warren picked up his glass of wine and said seriously, “Now, I’d like to propose a toast.”

A familiar litle boy’s voice called out from Brad’s vicinity, “I want toast!” There was more laughing as Brad, still grinning, looked down at the boy in his lap and said, “It’ll spoil your dessert, Jeremy. How about we save it for breakfast tomorrow? Okay?”

“Okay,” came the reply, followed by a kiss on the lips. Justin did the same to me, probably just so he didn’t feel left out.

When he could, Warren continued. “This is for both of you, Teddy and Bradley. Not only are you better friends than anyone deserves, but you have also made your friends even better friends with each other, and you have made all of us part of your family. We all feel welcome here, and I’m sure you will make this new house of yours into a home that will make us want to be here as often as we can. You’ve given so much to us, both of you, and to me in particular. You’ve given me a family I never thought I could ever have and you’ve given me wonderful friends I would never have met. And Bradley? You’ve given me more joy and happiness than you will ever know, and more than I could ever express. More than I deserve from such an amazing young man as you. Please don’t ever stop being you.”

He took a deep breath and raised his glass. “So, here’s to the best two friends anyone could ever have. To you both: Gesondheid; À tes santé; Skoal; Cheers.”

* * * * *

Wine had been replaced with coffee, tea, pop, and juice. Justin still sat on my lap while Jeremy sat with Brad. The grandparents still flanked Lindsay, and the others had returned to their seats following a pee break, a stretching of legs, and the occasional pressure-releasing belch. Everybody munched their favourite desserts, from which there was plenty to choose, and sipped whatever drink they preferred. There was lots of talk now interrupted quite regularly with chuckles and giggles and laughter. There was talk of days gone by and of days yet to come, of dreams come true and dreams which had yet to materialise. There were plenty of memories remembered and future memories which could happen only when we encountered them. There was talk of old friends and new friends, of old family and new family. There was no talk of the bad and sad things from the past – only the good and the happy times. There was just too much life and love around that table to absorb in one go – far too much to express in words.

I looked around the table, remembering how this family had grown, first from me, then to me and my little girl. I looked at her, suddenly looking so grown up sitting between heer grandfathers and happier than I had ever seen her. My Sweetheart. I remembered the first time I had seen her on the other side of a glass window in the maternity ward, looking down at her in her basinette and sleeping soundly. I remembered seeing her in Connie’s arms in her ward bed and I remember the first touch, the first kiss, the first smell, the first taste when I lifted her gently into my arms and kissed her forehead. I remember being terrified that I might break her the first time I changed her diaper. And then I remembered sitting on the edge of our bed or on our small sofa or at the kitchen table, gently rocking her back and forth and rubbing her cheek with my finger as she sucked gently on my little finger.

I thought of the simple joy of me sitting on the side of the bathtub, gently washing her hair and carefully rinsing away the fluffy lather. I thought of how she loved to sit in my lap as I rocked in Grandma’s rocking chair which, thankfully, had been rescued from my bedroom, until she fell asleep. I thought of the hours I spent reading to her at bedtime, her favourite stories about unicorns and faeries. They were always her favourites, even when she couldn’t even talk or walk. She would sit in my lap as I held a book of drawings of fantasy creatures and unicorns and faeries in front of her and she would bounce on my thighs and laugh and giggle and slap the pages with her tiny, little hand. I remembered it all. The bumps and bruses, the laughs, the cries, the happiness and the sadness, and yes, even the bruises and an arm wrapped in a plaster cast. I remembered it all as if it had happened yesterday, and, in my mind, it had. If I had done only one thing in my life, if I had accomplished only one thing, I couldn’t have done better than Lindsay. Nothing. She would forever and always remain my Sweetheart.

The boys. Justin sitting in my lap and Jeremy sitting in Brad’s. Those two boys had suffered more in their short lives than any child should ever have to suffer. They had become dependent on each other, especially Jeremy’s reliance on his older brother, just to get through life the best way they could in a world that didn’t even seem to want them. I can’t imagine my life without them now. I can barely remember what it was like before they became part of it. I thank God for mirrors that people are not supposed to be able to look through, but they somehow found a way to do it. They saw me standing there on the other side, smiling and waving at me and seeing me smiling and waving back. I thank God that they trusted me from the moment I stepped through the door of the play room at CAS, trusting me enough to share their toys with me and trusting me enough to show me how to play with those toys. I thank God that they accepted me so easily, that they had no reservations coming to my home for a visit. I thank God that they felt safe there from the first moment. I thank God that their first spoken words in two years had been spoken to me: “Are you our new Daddy?” I thank God that they had survived the terrible traumas, the fears, and the horrible memories they had endured so early in their lives and that they had found a way to leave them all behind. And I thank God that they had found their way to me. I’m so proud to be their father and I’m grateful to Brad for sharing that job with me, but I am more proud for them to be our sons. As they had told me once, I was always their father. They just hadn’t found me yet. I can’t wait to watch them grow up, to see them as the fine and handsome young men that my mind tells me they are destined to be, but I want them to take their time doing it. They will always and forever be my Sonskyns.

My parents. There sat my father, a man who spoke in proper English with a strange accent that everybody loved, and there my mother who still didn’t know how to ‘elevate tea’ but insisted on doing it with every new pot that was made. Dad had taken Brad under his wing to teach him everything he knew about British gardening and Mom had taken him under her own to teach him all about British cuisine. With her help, Brad could make Yorkshire pudding and Trifle that could match her own. His full English breakfast was nothing to sneeze at, either.

I adored them both. I had always felt that I had given them a very difficult life along with plenty of problems they didn’t need or deserve. They especially didn’t need a son who fell in love with a man. And not only a man, but a man a decade younger. Now, though, I feel that I have given them much more than a gay son and a gay son-in-law. I feel I had given them more than enough to stamp all bills ‘Paid In Full’. I had given them the family they had always wanted, but, except for Linday, couldn’t give them. The twins had paid off a lot of bills which were long over-due. Dad was especially thrilled that they had his last name now and that it would continue into the future, at least for one more generation. I love looking at Dad when he thinks nobody is watching him looking at his grandsons. Those, I think, are his happiest moments, even when he thinks those moments are his own. His face lights up and a wonderfully happy and a loving look comes into his eyes. They were his grandsons and heaven help anyone who argued that they weren’t because they were adopted. I wouldn’t want to be the guy to face Dad’s wrath if that ever happened.

Mom and Dad easily could have disowned me when Brad came onto the scene. Dad almost did. They could have removed me from their lives forever. I could have become a nonentity to them – an undesirable, an unwanted - but they had eventually accepted my life choices even though I now firmly believe that I had not chosen to be gay when I fell in love with Brad. I believe that, as a child, I had chosen to be straight when I really wasn’t and lived a straight life until Brad showed up and showed me how much I enjoyed and even needed the life I had always been denying. The only choice I made had been to accept the truth about the real me and to live the life I was always meant to live.

Brad’s parents had been even more accepting of me, not even questioning our relationship or discouraging it. They had lost one son, their own son, to tragedy and they wanted nothing more than for their adopted but just as genuine son to be happy. And if falling in love with me made Brad happy, then they were happy. They would never do anything to take away that happiness and, I suspect, their own. Like my parents, my children could not have asked for better grandparents. They had accepted my children as their grandchildren even before legalities made them so. They added a whole new level of love that children crave and absolutely need. There was no shortage of love from John and Bernice, and there was more than enough in the children to share with all their grandparents. Brad had been extremely lucky when John and Bernice Hayes decided to adopt him, and they had been extremely lucky to adopt such a wonderful and beautiful son.

Warren and Bill. What can I say about them? Warren had been with me throughout most of my childhood and Bill had been there from my young adulthood and on. Few people are as lucky as I am to have such incredible, dependable, loving friends as they are to me. Take Bill for example. He’s a frightfully big man, a head taller than I am and considerably broader at the shoulders. He’s big, but he’s far from fat. He’s just... ‘big’. He’s intimidating when you first encounter him, perhaps, but he’s as gentle as a Teddy bear when you get to know him. He was the giant of a man who filled my sons with terror when they first met him, but only because Bill resembled someone that they never wanted to meet again in their lives, and yet, within minutes, Bill was sitting with them and proving to them that he was not the ‘bad man’ they feared so much. He had calmed them and soothed them and had them calling him ‘Uncle Bill’ within minutes. He is also the man who cried in my arms at the thought of losing Warren to his surgery earlier in the year and he was the man who had let Brad cry on his shoulder when Brad needed a shoulder to cry on. Bill was so full of love and compassion and gentleness. Perhaps that’s why he was so big. He needed a body that size: to carry the heart that could hold it all.

And then there’s Warren. Except for my family, there is no one in the world more important to me than Warren. He had needed me when we were kids and I discovered over the years that I needed him just as much. We were left to our own to discover life, to discover how cruel people could be, yet how loving and generous they could be as well. We had both found true love when we hadn’t even been looking for it, love that we never expected to find either of us. I hate to think what Warren’s life would have been like if Bill hadn’t approached us as we sat on the bench that day and asked if we were a couple. I remember telling him I wasn’t gay, and I’ll never, ever forget the look on Warren’s face when he discovered that it was him that Bill was interested in and not me. I can’t describe it, but I’ll never forget it.

Despite the pretensions, despite the drama, despite his playfulness and gall, Warren was an incredible and loving person. Besides me, Warren is probably the only person who could get away with grabbing Brad’s ass the way he did that afternoon. Even though I had stopped him, I sincerely doubt that Brad would have. And knowing Brad as I do and the love he holds for Warren, I suspect Brad would even allow Warren the occasional grope. Except for me, nobody else would get away with it. Still, I knew Warren well enough to know that he wouldn’t do it even if he thought he could. He did all his groping with his eyes and his imagination. He knew his boundaries and he knew enough not to cross them. He would never allow his hands to know what my hands knew. Just knowing Brad was enough for him.

I cherish them both, Warren and Bill. I always have and I always will. My life would have been so empty without them, and it would be just as empty now. I wish them both very long, happy, and very healthy lives, and I wish them all the love and happiness that I share with Brad. God bless you, my friends, and thank you.

David and Brook. My two newest friends. One a Canadian wannabe and the other a charming and handsome young man who measures inseams and marks lines on clothes with a piece of chalk. David is a diminutive man (I prefer the word ‘compact) from Albany, New York - all five feet, three and five-eighths inches of him, who towers above most men I know. That five-eighths of an inch is very important to him – at least it used to be - but I don’t even see the five feet three inches anymore. I only see David. When I first met him, he had spent half his time reminding everybody how short he was and the other half proving how he was just as big as every other guy who stands head and shoulders above him. There’s a lot more man in David than in men much taller than he is. I mean, the power packed into that body is a match even for a man as powerful and fit Barry, and that is saying something. David hasn’t reminded us, except jokingly perhaps, about how short he is since he discovered that he doesn’t have to. Nobody cares. His shortness makes him the ‘David’ we all know and love.

David’s prime ambition and his goal in life is to become Canadian so he can marry the love of his life, Brook, who still thinks that David isn’t bad for a ‘skinny little white guy’. He doesn’t want to do it the easy way. Do I have any doubts that he will become a Canadian? Not in the least. It will happen. And I have no doubt that he will become a master stonesmith and that he would build the greatest stoneworks and pools and wood structures for Brad’s Baie Dankie Landscaping. Brad, of course, would take over his sponsorship as soon as he got Baie Dankie up and running and that would see David through the rest of his journey to becoming a Canadian and, ultimately, Brook’s husband. His life had changed drastically and for the better since his visit to Canada so many months ago and I’m pleased to know that I had something to do with that change.

And Brook? Besides his incredible, melodic, baritone voice and his milk chocolate skin, Brook is a beautiful, beautiful man, both inside and out. He has a very dry sense of humour which causes more smiles and grins than it does peals of laughter, but he’s a bit of a trixter, too. Little pranks, like the time he had used a black marker pen to draw a big smiley face on the backside of David’s work jeans. David gets up before Brook to shower and he dresses for work in the dim light of the bedroom so as not to wake up Brook so he didn’t notice the artwork that would adorn his pert little backside all day long. Much to the amusement of his workmates on the worksite, David was met with cheers and wolf whistles and occasional shouts throughout the day of, “Hey! David! Give us a smile!... No, the other one!” Or, “Hey, Davey! Spread those cheeks and give us a flash of that dazzling smile!” It was all harmless fun, of course, and everybody, including David, had fun with it. David got Brook back, though, by getting a workmate to take a picture of him, his eyes wide in surprise and his mouth opened in an ‘O’ as his fingers rested on his chin like that little cartoon girl from the Coppertone commercials. He was standing side-on to the camera, but his upper body was turned toward it. Behind him, on his knees, one of David’s more fun-loving and less inhibited workmates had David’s hips clamped firmly in his hands and was planting a great big smacker right in the middle of David’s emoticon.

I can’t tell you how many times Brook has thanked me for introducing David to him, especially after he got over David’s stature and discovered the loving man inside. And I can’t tell you how often David has regaled us with tales of Brook’s prowess in the bedroom. It’s obvious from his stories that David is a bottom but, as Brook is eager to remind us, David is one helluva top as well. According to each of them, they were made for each other, and the size difference is an asset and not a detriment. Sex aside, though, Brook is a handsome, well-built man who cuts a fine figure in anything he wears. Both he and Nathan are always the best-dressed in any company they share (except for my Brad, of course). Thinking back, I’m actually happy that Brook tried to convince Brad to drop me and go home with him that night in Toronto, and I’m happy that Brad saw him on the street. Otherwise, we would have been deprived of the friendship we share today and he would be deprived of a man who loves him very much. I really wish I knew more about Brook. Otherwise he wouldn’t be relegated to a few measly lines in this narrative. I’ve known him longer than I’ve known David but, relatively speaking, I’ve barely spent any time with him at all. I don’t know his background. I don’t know what store he works in. I don’t even know his last name. Sorry, Brook. Maybe some day we can sit down and you can fill me in.

I’m also strangely grateful that I got T-boned all that time ago and I’m even more grateful that Barry was the officer who responded to it. Along with Nathan and Brad, our relationships have been the most volatile and fragile of any of our friends, but they have also become the most solid, rewarding, and satisfying . I can always count on Nathan for anything. He’s always there for me no matter what I need him to do. And it’s not just for me. It’s for my entire family. Like today, for instance. Just like our wedding back in July, Nathan had taken it upon his shoulders to turn Lindsay’s Christmas wish into a reality. Nobody else that I know could have done what Nathan did to turn this Christmas into the amazing day it was, and no one could have made my Sweetheart so happy. I would be lost without him and I adore him even more than I adore his homemade breakfast waffles.

Like David, Nathan eagerly announced that he would quit his job in Toronto and go to work for Brad when it was time to do so. Along with Mark undoubtedly joining the crew as a full-time landscaper and Bill’s and his investor friends’ financial input, the future of Baie Dankie Landscaping would be nothing less than a grand success. How could it not be with Nathan at the helm? Brad would just have to tell Nathan what he wanted to do and Nathan would make it happen. I won’t even get into all the wonderful meals he has created for me and my family, and I have had no regrets whatsoever in making him a godfather to my boys.

And then there’s his counterpart, Barry. Nathan’s version of my Brad. I adore Barry as well, but for many different reasons. There is no denying his masculinity and sexuality and amazing body. He oozes manliness from every pore. We had been enormously attracted to each other from the day we met and those attractions came very close to destroying all of our friendships and relationships. I came close to losing Brad and Barry came close to losing Nathan, but we faced those attractions and dealt with them as a team, and Brad had been the coach who pulled the team together and and somehow managed to fix it. The attractions still exist. I think they always will. But that’s all they are and that’s all they ever will be - attractions. Dealing with them was much preferable to the alternative.

When we first met, Barry was deep in the closet. So deep, in fact that he had built another closet inside where he could hide not only from the world, but from himself as well. The closet doors began to open the day he showed up at my door following the accident, but the changes came slowly. Barry had eventually come out of his little own closet and, indeed, out of the proverbial closet as well and he ultimately opened himself to the world. He became a free spirit around us, but, most of all, he had become the man and the lover that Nathan wanted and had always wished for. He wasn’t quite as free in public as Brad and I are, but he was getting there. And he had been accepted at work after coming out to them. There were a few reservations by a few of the officers, but nobody on the force refused to go on duty with him. When Barry put on his uniform, he was all business and his partners knew that they could put their lives and safety in Barry’s hands and Barry could expect the same from everyone on the force. They knew they could depend on him, and so de we. I’m so glad we had been able to conquer all of the hurdles we had faced in the earlier days and I’m elated that he had become such a wonderful playmate for my sons. When he was on his knees or even belly-down on the floor playing with our boys, Barry was like a third son to Brad and me. He was all man in a big man’s body, but there was also a very little boy in there as well, and he was at his best when he let that little boy come out to play.

Happenstance had brought Nathan and Barry to us and, had it not been for that accident, our lives would be very different now. But most importantly of all, that accident made my little girl’s Christmas wish come true. How do you thank someone for that?

In my mind, I could see an empty chair at the table. Two, actually. One for Terry and one for Tom. Tom Kent wasn’t quite a member of our family yet, but Terry certainly was. She was here in spirit even though she was far, far away enjoying Christmas Day with another family. What can I say about Terry that I haven’t said before. Just that she’s a godsend to us. I can’t count the number crises she had got us through, the number of times she had been invaluable to me and my family. If there had been room at the table, I would have insisted on an empty chair and a place setting for her. She certainly deserved it and I certainly can’t thank her enough for what she’s done for this family. Bless you, Terry. Hurry home.

I cherished them all, every single one of them, but no one more so than the young man sitting at the end of the table opposite me: Bradley Nelson de Villiers Hayes. My husband. My lover. My soulmate. My best friend. Even Warren takes a back seat to Brad. He is the man who knows me me better than anyone else in the world, even myself, and yet he still loves me despite knowing what he knows. Warren was right. I’m stubborn, selfish, asshole son of a bitch at times, but, with Brad’s love and devotion, I have been changing. I’m not quite at Ebenezer Scrooge after his ghostly visitors, but I’m getting there.

Brad is one of the few people who can stand up to me and knock some sense into my stubborn brain. Dad is the other. Brad taught me how to love and how to be loved. He taught me that it’s more than a body or a dick or an ass that’s important. It’s the entire man that matters, the whole package, and, in Brad’s case, the body and dick and balls and ass are the fringe benefits of loving him just as, according to Brad, mine are to him. And what he sees in me isn’t what I see in myself, and what I see in Brad is far more than what I see on the outside. No one has affected my life as much as Brad has. No one has changed me as much as Brad has, and no one understands me as much as Brad does. When he’s away from me, there is an emptiness inside me which never goes away until he returns to me. I don’t think I could live without Brad. Not now. I need him too much. I’m the luckiest man in the world to have Brad in my life, chipped tooth and all.

There isn’t anything that Brad wouldn’t do for his inherited family, and I have no doubt that he would not stop at sacrificing his life for any of the kids. Indeed, not even for me. Brad is one in a million. He has so much love that he’s been saving up for his entire life and it all comes out in a never-ending stream for his entire family, even when, in my case, he just stored it and withheld it from me until I decided that he was right in doing so, and when he gave it back again, it was even stronger than it was before. There was no end to his love and caring for people, and especially for the kids. Nothing and no one was more important to him... not even me. I got it only when the kids didn’t need it anymore, but I knew it was always there waiting for me. He just never ran out of it. Even sitting there at the end of the table, it radiated out from him to everyone sitting in the room, and I’m sure everyone there could feel it.

I started watching Brad that night so long ago as a curiosity. I had never seen anyone like him, and I had never seen anyone do what he did. Soon it became a fascination and, before long, I realised just how much I enjoyed watching him. And, when Brad found out that I enjoyed it, this shy, reserved young man started to let me watch whenever I wanted to and just because I wanted to. There is no ego in it when he does it. There is no exhibitionism. There is no ‘show-off’ pride in what he can do. There is no bragging. There is only his love for me and his desire to please me that he does it for me. Thank you for letting me watch you, Brad. Thank you.

I looked around the table once more, from Mom and Dad to my Sweetheart, Lindsay, to John and Bernice Hayes, to Justin sitting in my lap and eating one of Grandma’s Christmas tree-shaped sugar cookies, to my dearest friend, Warren, and his husband, Bill, to David and Brook, to Barry and Nathan, and to my other son, Jeremy, cheerfully holding out his hand to his Ouma so she could take a nibble of his snowman cookie. And finally to Brad, sitting there with a little boy attached to his lap and enjoying a bowl of his favourite Mom-made Trifle one spoonful at a time. He sat there in all his youthful, manly beauty, and even from the distance separating us at the table, I could feel him and smell him and taste him. The same would hold true no matter how much distance separated us. He was permanently implanted in my mind. No distance could ever make me love him less than I do.

Brad is my life. He is my love. He is everything to me. He is my Brad.

He looked up at me as he chewed a fresh spoonful of Trifle. His eyes met mine and held their gaze, and then he smiled. His beautiful green eyes sparked in what was left of the burning tapered candles which had been burning since we sat down for dinner. His chipped tooth was temporarily hidden by a morsel of Trifle cake and raspberry filling, but he looked just as beautiful as ever, and I loved him even more than I did only a minute before. Brad makes it very easy to love, and even easier to love more with every minute that passes. Very easy. He licked the raspberry filling from his tooth with a sweep of his tongue and his smile widened. He nodded at me and winked as though he knew exactly what I was thinking at that moment, and I’m sure he did.

It would still be a few months before our house would be finished, before everyone had worked their last day and had taken everything away with them. It would still be a few more months before our kids would have their own bedrooms, completely and personally paid for by their uncles – Nathan and Barry for the boys, Warren and Bill for Lindsay. It would still be a few more months before Brad and I would finally have the complete privacy we had enjoyed very few times since our wedding, thanks to our parents, and we would have a shower big enough to pitch a pup tent in.

It would still be a few more months, but there was no denying it:

We were home.

 

[Scotty0323]

Neil,
Thank you. What a wonderful Christmas present.

 

[Kyanimal]

Neil, Buddy!

This story, your story ... Schmaltzy? Hokey? Oh, Heck, Yes! You have an incredible talent to make my heart swell, bring tears to my eyes, and even make "Animal" jump a bit. In other words, you hit "Home"!

You have an innate connection to that which is Worthy, Valuable, and Substantial. And, trust me, money doesn't even have a shadow to cast in those considerations. You supersede the material to touch the ethereal.

Bless You, Friend!
Chaz

 

[gsdx]

You have an innate connection to that which is Worthy, Valuable, and Substantial. And, trust me, money doesn't even have a shadow to cast in those considerations. You supersede the material to touch the ethereal.

Does that mean David's 'emoticon' was funny?

 

[frankfrank]

What a wonderful way to end a story (if, indeed, this is an end) - on Christmas, in "real time" on that very same day.

Thank you again for this story. A story for the ages.

 

[gsdx]

What a wonderful way to end a story (if, indeed, this is an end)

I was hoping someone would notice that all the 'ends' had been tied up. I have no plans to continue the story, but I think I've given enough clues about the future for you to imagine it.

For what it's worth, in my mind, Baie Dankie Landscaping becomes a reality with David, Mark, Nathan, and, eventually, Jeremy all working for Brad. David becomes Canadian and marries Brook (but I still don't know his last name). Brad succeeds in converting him completely to become a descent human being. It's not all about him anymore. I don't foresee either separation or divorce in their future, but I do know that the de Villiers name continues.

Oh, and Nathan never gets it on with Brad and Barry never gets it on with Ted, but feel free to imagine it in your minds if you wish. (Wink Wink)

 

[Thanatos]

Wow.. long awaited, perfectly done ending chapter to a wonderful story.
Thank you, Neil

 

[ballcaphair]

With a warm smile and deep gratitude, I love your perfect ending. Since your introduction, this has been thrilling. Bless you.

 

[frankfrank]

All books or stories I will ever read, will be competing with the "gold standard" of Watching Brad.

They will all inevitably fail to meet that standard. I will never read a better story.

Thank you for enriching that part of my life. (Hey, if I ever just manage to get toward Peterborough, I really hope that we can meet. But, first, it's getting across that goddam border, it is always rude, intimidating, and unpleasant.)

 

[frankfrank]

I keep thinking I should do the inconceivable task of printing this entire story out.

Does anybody have a wheelbarrow I can borrow, for all this paper?

 

[gsdx]

I keep thinking I should do the inconceivable task of printing this entire story out.

Hold onto that thought. I'm working on another surprise.

 

[truxtun]

Brilliant. The greatest saga I've read in my lifetime and I'm so grateful that you courageously fought through the hardships to complete the story. If this isn't published to become the great Canadian novel, an injustice of great magnitude will have been done. Bless you Neil for your imagination and genius - may God shine His face upon you.

 

[DonQuixote]

Neil,
I knew this was coming g shortly before everyone else and have been trying to find time to get here and enjoy it. I backed up a little to get I to the groove. I'm glad I did. About the only thing missing is a pair of twins echoing another author's words - God bless us everyone.

Thank you. It was a wonderful capstone to a magnificent story.

 

[gsdx]

I just realised that the story began with a move into a new house and ended with a move to a new house. Full circle.

You'd almost think I planned it that way.

 

[DonQuixote]

Same address, but a whole new life.

 

[gsdx]

I keep thinking I should do the inconceivable task of printing this entire story out.

Does anybody have a wheelbarrow I can borrow, for all this paper?

Hold onto that thought. I'm working on another surprise.

Special Surprise
Announcement​

I mentioned in an earlier post before Christmas that I had been reading the story all the way through. Originally, I was reading it to make sure that I tied up all the loose ends in what I knew would be the final chapter of the story.

By the time I got to Chapter 8 or so, though, I began to see all the mistakes I had made - the spelling, grammar, continuity, and so on. (Did you anyone notice that I changed Connie's name?) I became inspired.

Anyway, I went back to Chapter 1 and began reading all over again, but this time, I read the story with the intent to 'fix' everything and to do a bit of rewriting in some places because I felt more needed to be said or, in some cases, less. Not only did I correct all of my goofs, I reformatted the entire story, chapter by chapter, to remove all of the HTML coding and convert it into regular text complete with centring texts and 'division' marks, making text bold or Italic, and so on.

The end result is a story which can be read as pages in a book. Finally, I saved each chapter in 3 different file formats and zipped them into separate files: docx (Word or Wordpad), rtf (Rich Text Format), and PDF.

When I can find a suitable storage space where I can share the zip files with links, I'll make them available for downloading. You will then have the complete abridged story, chapter by chapter, to read at your leisure or to print out if you can afford the paper and ink.

Merry Christmas again.

 

[Matt89]

What a great ending to one of my favourite stories! Thanks again Neil! I look forward to being able to download the story too!