Watching Brad

[kcm17480]

I kind of wondered about the ring. I didn't think Brad had one for Ted. Excellent chapter.

 

[mushka]

Pass the Kleenex...

 

[Kyanimal]

AWESOME!, Neil!! Simply ... "Just" ... AWESOME!!!

Working Nights does have it's advantages. Now I can, peacefully, cry myself to Sleep!!

THAT is a "Good Thing"!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[sheep]

It just isn't fair that you have so much control over my emotions. [looks at wedding band and starts crying again]

 

[newkidondagayblock]

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

 

[Craiger]

True happiness, Neil, true happiness. Thanks!

Craiger

 

[harry113]

THANK YOU Neil,
What a wonderful chapter
You are a past master at winding us all up !!!
Kleenex shares are rising !!!
Peace & Love
Harry

 

[gsdx]

Pass the Kleenex...

I'll pass the Kleenex and a hearty 'Congratulations'. Your PM to me was the only one with the correct outcome.

Not sure how you figured it out, though.

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part LI​

I woke up Christmas morning to a hand shaking my shoulder and a voice calling my name. I woke up to Mom standing beside our bed.

"Come, Teddy," she said quietly. "You've got two very anxious little boys waiting for you."

I glanced at the bedside clock. It was twenty minutes before seven. Brad woke up then and realized he was sleeping on my shoulder, his arm thrown casually over my chest.

"Oh, God!" he said as he rolled away from me and pulled the covers up to his neck. "I'm sorry!"

"Relax, Brad," she smiled her understanding. Then, to me, she said, "I called you from the doorway, but you were dead to the world. Your Father's with the twins in their room, but I don't know how much longer he can keep them in there."

"Thanks, Mom," I said. "We'll be right out. Is Lindsay awake?"

"Not yet," she said. "Want me to wake her?"

"No, I'll get her. We'll be right out."

"Merry Christmas, dear," she said in response, then bent down to kiss my cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Mom."

She looked at Brad. "Don't just lie there," she said. "Get that face over here so I can kiss it."

Brad rolled onto his elbow, leaning over me. Mom kissed his cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"And a very merry Christmas to you, too, Mom."

She stood up. "Hurry, now," she said. "John and Bernice are on their way over." And she left, closing the door politely behind her. Unless we were having sex, the door was always open.

* * * * *

Lindsay knew the drill. It was the boys I was worried about. Brad and I were dressed now, both cameras in hand (Brad carrying the video camera), and we were standing in the livingroom with a good view of both the boys' room and the tree and fireplace. I stood to Brad's right so he could film the entire thing. Lindsay stood beside me so she could share the excitement right along with the rest of us. Mom stood out of the way behind the sofa. John and Bernice had arrived already and were standing beside Mom. They weren't about to miss a single moment of their new grandsons' first Christmas.

"Okay, Dad!" I shouted. "You can bring them in now!"

Dad appeared in the bedroom doorway, one twin holding each hand. When they were far enough to see the tree and the stockings hanging on the mantle across the room from them, Dad released their hands. We expected them to come tearing across the room. They didn't. They stood there, their eyes wide with wonder and awe and their little mouths hanging open.

They took each others' hands and Justin led his brother slowly past the basement staircase and toward the coffee table. Their eyes fell to the empty cookie plate and the empty milk glass.

"He found us," Justin said softly. Brad and I worked the cameras as they moved toward the mantle. Their stockings were stuffed. What wouldn't fit inside sat on the mantle or on the hearth below. "He found us," Justin repeated.

Then he looked up at me as I handed the camera to Mom. "Daddy," Justin said, "Santa Claus really found us."

I grabbed them up into my arms and hugged them close. "I promised you he would."

"Thank you, Daddy," Jeremy whimpered as he and his brother hugged me back. Their eyes returned to the stockings, then to the tree.

"Come on," I said. "Time to open your stockings."

Lindsay jumped up on the sofa as I set the twins beside her. "Now, do you remember the rules?"

Justin nodded. "Stockings. Then we eat breakfast. Then the presents."

"Do we really have to eat breakfast first, Daddy?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes, you do," I said.

"It's more fun if you split it up," Lindsay added. "Christmas lasts longer. Come on, Daddy! Our stockings!"

Dad set the a plastic laundry hamper in front of each child. They would hold whatever they unwrapped. Both Brad and Mom moved around to face the children as I retrieved their stockings and the other items from the mantle and hearth. Then I stood back and watched. Lindsay was excited, but the twins looked at each new toy with wonder and amazement. It was my guess that it was, indeed, their first genuine Christmas, the first time Santa Claus had come to them.

Amongst the apples and oranges and candy canes and cookies and nuts were lots of toys, including new Leapster games for the twins and some new Gameboy game cartridges for Lindsay. The boys were too awestruck to be as excited as Lindsay. They still had trouble believing that all this stuff was actually theirs to keep. Before long, though, they began to eye the bigger presents under the tree. If all these wonders were hidden in a stocking, imagine what was in the parcels! They began to rip open their packages much more quickly and with much more gusto and were caught up to Lindsay in no time.

When the last package was opened, all three kids, still dressed in their sleep wear and robes, were on the floor, digging through their new treasures and examining them more closely. Jeremy located a small figurine of Yoda from Star Wars and clutched it in his hand. He wouldn't put it down. Justin became absorbed in a small, plastic maze game, trying to guide the small ball bearing to the finish line. Lindsay examined her faerie sun catchers.

Mom and Bernice disappeared into the kitchen to begin breakfast for everyone. No full English breakfast this morning. It was quick and easy. Scrambled eggs and bacon and toast. Bernice made a pot of oatmeal. The smell of cooking cinnamon began to fill the livingroom. I knew Lindsay would eat it, and the boys said they would, too, but I'm not sure they really knew what it was. If they didn't like it, they could have cold cereal.

We needn't have worried. The twins loved the oatmeal, especially with the cinnamon and brown sugar cooked right into it, and ate two bowls each. Both Brad and I had a bowl as well. Only John declined. There's nothing like a hot porridge to warm you up on a cold, winter morning. Jeremy set Yoda beside his bowl and turned him so he could look at his little Jedi as he ate.

We discovered over breakfast that Mom and Dad had awakened early. I think they were as excited as the kids. The boys were awake and sitting up in bed, listening and waiting and clutching their Teddy bears in eager anticipation. Dad had stayed with them as Mom phoned Bernice and then came to rouse me and Brad out of bed. Who said Christmas is for children?

John, Dad, and I followed the kids into the livingroom again to watch them play with their stocking stuffers, showing us all their favourite toys which was. . . well. . . all of them. Yoda was tucked securely in Jeremy's robe pocket. Brad stayed with Mom and Bernice to help clean up after breakfast.

"Who is going to play Father Christmas?" Dad asked.

"I thought Brad and I would do it," I said.

"Could Jan and I do it?" John asked.

So, the granddads wanted to play Santa. I smiled to myself. For my father, it had been many, many years. I had no idea how long it had been for Brad's dad, if he ever had. It was obvious that they had spoken about this with each other and wanted to do it. "Sure," I told them with a smile.

John looked at Dad and smiled, then asked, "How do I say that again?"

"Geseënde Kersfees"

"Chess-ee-end-ah Curse-feece."

"Not bad," Dad said with a smile. "You must learn to do that guttural sound. Maybe you should stick to ‘Merry Christmas' and let me handle the Afrikaans."

"Maybe you're right," John replied with a grin. "That I can pronounce."

Now might be a good time to explain my family while there's a lull in the excitement. A day or so ago, when Brad and I showed Mom and Dad our rings, Dad slipped into Afrikaans when he told me he loved me. He doesn't do that very often. When he does, he's either too angry to remember to speak English or too emotional to think English is a good enough language to state what he really feels. He still has a pretty thick accent, even today, but it's not a difficult accent and most people can understand him well enough to know what he's saying. Mom still holds onto her British accent, although it's not quite as pronounced as Dads. She uses a lot of British expressions, though. So, you might be wondering how a South African man married a British woman and had a Canadian child.

I'll start with Mom. When she was in her early teens, she and her family went on vacation in South Africa to visit relatives who had moved there from England. Mom became intrigued by Afrikaans. It's a beautiful language to listen to, but not such an easy language to speak. There's a lot of things you have to do with your throat and lips and tongue to make the sounds come out properly and English-speaking people usually have a lot of trouble doing it. They're not used to making those sounds. Mom's aunt, whom they had visited during their vacation, located a set of long-play vinyl record albums with lessons in speaking Afrikaans and sent them to Mom. She learned to speak it conversationally from those. When she was seventeen, she moved to South Africa to continue learning it first-hand. To supplement her income, she tutored a few Afrikaaners in English. Dad was one of her students.

Suffice it to say that things worked out very well between them. Well enough, in fact, that they got married and made me. I'm not certain why they chose to move to Canada after they got married. Neither of them ever really told me. Dad says it was to start a new life, but I think there was a lot more to it than that - that they weren't readily accepted in either of their home countries. The Afrikaaners didn't care much for all the Brits invading their homeland.

Anyway, Dad had learnt to speak English through Mom, and all those British expressions still remain, like ‘torch' and ‘boot'. You haven't heard anything until you've heard an Afrikaaner say ‘cuppa'. I don't speak very much Afrikaans. I can understand it when Dad speaks it, but I can't carry on a conversation in it. I can, however, say "Geseënde Kersfees" better than John.

So, back to the festivities for a moment. Christmas in Canada is very different than Christmas in England and even more different than in South Africa. For one thing, we don't do barbeque on Christmas Day and we wear a lot more than shorts, T-shirts, and sandals while the air conditioning is running full tilt. Mom and Dad adopted Canadian traditions when they moved here and came up with their own traditions, and those traditions are the ones I still use.

I told you about the rules a few moments ago. I'll explain them a bit more now. The kids aren't allowed to see the tree in the morning without us, although I'm sure they do their share peeking when they aren't supposed to. That's expected, and I'm surprised that Justin and Jeremy actually abided by that rule this year. Perhaps they were afraid if they broke it, it would all go away somehow. I couldn't be certain they would be so obedient next time.

The kids were allowed to open their stockings before breakfast, but they had to eat breakfast before ‘the tree' when they would open their main gifts. It would be impossible to get them to eat breakfast afterward if they had ‘the tree' first. Someone also acts as Santa Claus, distributing the gifts to everyone. There's no dressing up, of course. It's just a title which goes with the job.

So, that was our tradition. I don't know how traditional it is for other Canadian families, but that's ours.

The kids were still playing with their new toys and I was still snapping pictures. Dad took over so we could get some of me with the kids as well. I could tell Lindsay was still anxious to get to the tree, but the twins were satisfied with their hampers at the moment. Already, they'd had more Christmas than ever before. Of that I was certain.

Brad joined us then, along with Mom and Bernice. He joined me and the kids for a few photos before I moved Lindsay's hamper over to the fireplace, then dragged Justin's over as well. Brad dragged Jeremy's. We gave them all enough room, but the boys again sat side-by-side in front of the hearth. Lindsay sat down near them.

Dad and John rose out of the settee and Mom and Bernice sat down there. Brad and I sat on the sofa, cameras and memory cards within easy reach on the coffee table.

When everyone was ready, Dad and John walked to the tree, grabbed up packages, and began handing them out to everyone according to the names on the tags.

Of course, most of us sat back and watched the kids. After all, Christmas was mostly for them, and that's where we all had the most fun. The twins were the most fun to watch. Every time we didn't think their eyes could get any wider, or they could be more amazed and surprised, they did. They were very hesitant at first and opened only the gifts which were placed in their hands as the other gifts began to pile up in front of them. They looked at the growing piles and their jaws dropped a little bit more.

Justin looked up at me. "Is this all for us?" he asked.

"It sure is," I said with one of the biggest smiles I've ever made, and I didn't even have to work at it. It just appeared all by itself. Nothing was more important to me at that moment than the happiness in those two little boys. They attacked their gifts after that.

Lindsay was always a careful unwrapper. She liked to savour each gift as she opened it. Before long, though, she was ripping paper away as quickly as the boys. Paper and ribbons and bows began piling up behind them as it was discarded over their shoulders.

I glanced around and noticed that all the adults were equally enraptured by the kids as I was, paying little attention to the gifts we opened. Like I said, Christmas is for the children.

Jeremy stopped partway through his unwrapping and just sat there, looking at the things he had opened and the pile which still remained for him. He was so unlike his brother that way. Justin kept ripping open packages, but Jeremy sat there absorbing it all and examining everything with unbelieving eyes. It was almost like he was in a dream and none of this was real - like he would suddenly wake up and it would all be gone.

"Hurry up, Jeremy!" Justin shouted. "There's more!"

Dad and John took occasional breaks as the pile of gifts slowly began to dwindle. Dad sat in the chair while John sat on the sofa beside Brad. They would open a few gifts while keeping a keen eye on the children. As their piles shrunk, Dad or John or both together would get up and find more for them.

I won't go into details listing the gifts. There were far too many to mention. The kids, as expected, paid little attention to the clothing they received. They were little more than something to unwrap. It was the toys and games which garnered the most attention.

It was only after the kids had finished opening their parcels and were going through their cache of gifts in greater detail that we adults managed to open the rest of ours. Brad loved the laptop I had given him and I loved the new watch he'd given me. He'd had it engraved on the back with a heart and the words "Ted & Brad forever". I put it on immediately. There were other gifts to and from each other, of course, but those were the best.

Besides his other gifts, Brad received a cheque for $5,000 from his parents and another for $2,000 from my Mom and Dad. They gave me a cheque as well, for five grand.

Lindsay was playing with her unicorn family she'd got from Grandma and Grandpa de Villiers. Justin was building a Lego space ship and Jeremy was simply sorting everything out and examining each item before settling down to play with his new Etch-A-Sketch.

As I helped Brad clean up wrapping paper and stuffing it into green garbage bags, the grandparents sat back down to watch the kids play. John looked happy, but I hadn't seen Dad so excited and content in many years, ever since Lindsay was a little girl. The boys were his grandsons now, if only in his mind, and he was enjoying every single moment.

After Brad and I had gathered up all the trash, we picked up all the twins' clothes. I took Justin's and Brad took Jeremy's. We sorted through all the stuff we knew would fit them and set aside the ‘try-on' things. Mostly jeans and pants.

Most of the clothes were identical. Grandparents loved to see identical twins dressed identically. I suppose it was a way in which they could show off by telling which child was which. They might trick their friends and teachers, but they couldn't trick us. At least not me. I didn't even have to look anymore to know which boy was talking. I could tell. Even in photographs. I knew.

The only time I couldn't tell which was which was by their smell. They were absolutely identical there. When Lindsay was a baby, you could have put her in a room with a thousand other babies, blindfold me, and I would find her with my nose. I could find the twins just as easily, but I couldn't tell you if it was Justin or Jeremy. They smelled exactly alike.

Speaking of the twins, Jeremy came to Brad, his arms full of elbow and knee pads, a Maple Leafs jersey and a hockey helmet. He wanted to put them on. Of course, Justin wanted to do the same and brought his to me. They'd left their ice skates and hockey sticks and hockey gloves with their other gifts.

We had debated about this gift. We knew the boys couldn't skate, but Brad was intent on teaching them, so we kitted them out. Brad had already told me he was going to build an ice rink in the back yard for them.

Anyway, I told them we would put the pads on them, but first they had to go change into underwear so we could try on their clothes. They ran into their bedrooms as Lindsay gathered up her own clothes and, along with Mom and Bernice, went to her room to try everything on.

The boys returned quickly enough, their pyjamas and bathrobe probably lying on the bedroom floor. Brad and I put identical T-shirts on them first after we'd written their names on the inside label with indelible ink made specifically for laundry. (Mom had bought them for me.) The ink would never wash out. The socks we didn't write their names in. They could share those.

We tried on all their jeans and pants after that. Amazingly, everything fit them except for two pairs of slacks which Bernice had given them. She'd exchange them for the next larger size. With everything tried on, we wrote their names on the inside of the pants which fit and put a pair of blue jeans on the twins. We even wrote their names into their new matching slippers. Finally, we helped them put on their pads and helmets and jerseys, but only after they promised to take them off when we ate dinner.

With all the clothes sorted, Brad and I began snipping off tags and writing their names in everything else except their socks. Even their clothes were their own now. No more sharing.

Brad got down on the floor to play with the boys as I took their clothes to their room and put them away, then returned to sit back and enjoy a cup of coffee. I didn't get the chance. Just as my butt was about to touch the sofa cushions, Justin called out, "Daddy, can you help me?"

Dad chuckled. "Now you know what it is like, Son," he said to me.

John added, "Enjoy it while you can, Ted. They grow up way too fast."

Everyone was assuming that the boys were mine now. They were acting like they were mine. I could only hope that they would be. I was already looking forward to next Christmas and having the twins with me. I hated to think about the possibility that they might not be. I put that out of my mind and got down on the floor beside my son and helped him attach the wings of his space ship. Until Children's Aid told me otherwise, these boys were mine.

Lindsay joined us a short time later, dressed in one of her new outfits - a new pair of fleece-lined slacks from Grandma de Villiers and a nice blouse from Grandma Hayes. She wore the slippers I had given her.

Mom and Bernice disappeared into the kitchen to prepare fresh coffee, tea, and hot chocolate. They soon came back into the livingroom and set a huge assortment of cookies and tarts and cakes and fruit squares on the coffee table. Dad and I fought over the date squares. The kids all gathered on the far side of the table, kneeling on the floor and enjoying their mid-morning treats. The boys got quite a kick out of kneeling there in their knee pads, showing us proudly how they could knock their heads together or drop to the floor without hurting themselves.

As we sat there together, Brad put his fingers on my chin and turned my face toward him, and then he kissed me. It wasn't a passionate kiss. It was just one full of love. And it was in front of our parents. Momentary panic shot through me, but I soon lost myself in the feeling of Brad's lips against mine and I forgot about everyone else. "What the hell," I thought. "They might as well get used to it. We were engaged now."

When he pulled away, his green eyes were sparkling and his chipped-tooth smile glistened. "That was from everyone else. This is from me." This time, he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a much more loving kiss. My own arms found their way around him and we held each other close. The kiss didn't last very long, but it was undeniably passionate and long enough for Mom to take a picture of it. It ended finally and Brad said, "I love you, Ted."

"I love you, too, Brad," I replied. And then I sat back, suddenly wary and humbled. I glanced around at everyone. My eyes finally settled on Dad's.

"That was very strange," he said, "but not entirely unpleasant to see." He looked at Brad. "You're good," he said, and then he winked and smiled gently. I don't think Brad realized that Dad had just told him that he approved. A lot of times, with Dad, you had to listen to what he didn't say.

I knew Brad had a way of endearing himself to people. It was difficult not to like him once you got to know him. Dad was a different matter. The way he'd called Brad a fag the day they met way back in August, I thought that would be the way it would always be. Sure, Brad and Dad got along when it came to gardening, but that certainly wasn't enough to change a man as incorrigible as Dad. He'd never tell me what changed his mind, though, and he'd never tell Mom, either, no matter how many times we asked, so we never asked. We simply accepted it.

I have my suspicions, though, and I'll share them with you. Dad tried to talk me out of marrying Connie. "You are making a big mistake, Son," he told me.

"It's my mistake to make, Dad," I told him.

"But you will not be the only one to suffer from it."

"No-one will suffer, Dad," I told him. "I promise."

"Empty promises are easy to keep."

"Dad, please." I said.

"You will not be happy, Theodore."

I should have listened to him when he used my full name. He had been right, of course. Connie had made a lot of people suffer, not the least of whom was her own daughter.

Whatever Dad may have thought about homosexuality, and his only son being gay, he saw Brad as he truly was. There were no falsehoods there - no lies, no deceptions. He saw through his own prejudices and saw us both with non-judgmental eyes. Most of all, though, I think Dad saw that I was truly and honestly happy for the first time in my life. That and the fact that I had told him to go to Hell.

* * * * *

Warren and Bill would be arriving soon. Mom and Bernice were back in the kitchen preparing dinner. The aroma of roasting turkey filled the house. I told the kids to pick out a few toys to play with, which they did, and Brad and I carried the twins' toys into their room and dumped them into their respective toy boxes. Lindsay carried her own toys to her room and put them away.

The next round of gifts came out and were put under the tree. With Warren and Bill, there would be another ‘tree', so we held back a few gifts for the kids and everyone else, just so everyone would have something to open. There weren't as many as earlier, by far, but there were enough to hide most of the cotton batting tree skirt.

It wasn't much later that Warren phoned. They were off the Four-Oh-One now and would be here in a few minutes.

"Well, boys," I said to the twins, "your Uncle Warren and Uncle Bill are almost here. You can keep your jersey's on, but I think we should take off the other stuff for now, okay?"

We took off the pads and helmets. Not long after that, the doorbell rang.

"Here we go, then," I said to Justin as I picked him up in my left arm. Brad picked up Jeremy. Lindsay was with us as I went to the door. The others were there as well, but standing back, giving us room.

I opened the door to Warren and Bill. Both were laden with gifts and both had enormous smiles of greeting on their faces as they stepped inside. "Joyeux Noël!" Warren shouted.

That's when Justin grabbed at my shirt and Jeremy began screaming.

To Be Continued​

 

[Trent0n1]

That last line was sure a shock! Not what I was expecting at all, but the rest of the chapter was as heatwarming and endearing as I've come to expect from you Neil.
Thanks for sharing this story....even if my eyes haven't leaked so much in years!

Trent

 

[sheep]

Looks like the twins can't handle the french language either!

 

[gsdx]

Looks like the twins can't handle the french language either!

I was wondering if anyone was going to mention that.

 

[harry113]

Wonderful chapter, Neil
Don't know what has upset the twins tho'
Perhaps we still don't know all that is in their past
Thanks

Harry

 

[PhoenixRising]

My guess, the twins biological father's boyfriend was french.

Great chapter, BTW. Keep up the excellent work.

 

[gsdx]

WATCHING BRAD
Part LII​

I thought Justin was going to rip my shirt to shreds. It felt like he was trying to crawl right inside me. Before I had a chance to react, though, another pair of hands came from my right side, grabbing around my neck and yanking at me. I turned my head in time to see Jeremy viciously kicking his way out of Brad's arms and into mine. Sheer panic filled Brad's face as he fought desperately to keep Jeremy from tumbling to the floor.

"Ted!!" he screamed. There was a whole lot of fear in his voice.

I didn't answer. There would have been a whole lot of fear in my voice, too. I grabbed Jeremy with my right arm and held on. His horrifying screams of "Daddy!! Daddy!!" echoed in the small entryway, and they didn't stop. Icy spikes stabbed into my spine, travelling up to my shoulders as tears of absolute terror flowed down Jeremy's tiny face. Justin was crying as well and grasping at me. Something about Warren or Bill had triggered this and I had to get them out of there.

"Excuse me," I said as I headed for their bedroom. Brad was close on my heels. I sat on their bed and tried to set them down, but neither of them would let go of me. I held them tightly instead, protecting them from whatever it was which had frightened them. I called Jeremy's name over and over again. He was still screaming hysterically and not listening to me.

"Brad, take Justin," I said. Brad reached for him, but Justin clung to me still. He was crying, but not as hysterically as his brother. "Please, Justin," I said as calmly as I could. "Go to Brad." Justin reluctantly let me go and grabbed onto Brad.

My attention turned to Jeremy. Whatever was going on inside his mind, Brad couldn't help him this time. Only Daddy could protect him. He'd come to me. I hugged and stroked his back and tried to calm him down. I noticed Mom standing in the doorway, ready to move if I needed her. It took a long time to bring an end to Jeremy's screams, but his crying and sobbing continued against my shoulder. His arms still clung to my neck, his legs still wrapped in a vice grip around my waist. He shook within my arms. The terror was still there.

"Jeremy?" I said soothingly. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" He just grasped me tighter. I turned to Justin. "What's wrong, Justin? Why are you so scared?"

Justin replied in a whisper. "He hurt our Daddy."

"Who?" I said. "Who hurt your Daddy?"

"The big man," Justin replied.

Bill.

Damn! I should have looked at the photos Jacob had brought to me! Damn and fuck it to hell! He had them and I could have looked at them, but I didn't want to see them. I could have avoided all this. Bill looked like that murdering animal and he was here to hurt me now, too. At least in Jeremy's eyes.

I grabbed Justin in my left arm again and Brad released him. "No!" I said as I hugged them desperately. "Oh, no, no, no! That man didn't hurt your father. He's my friend, your Uncle Bill. The man who hurt your Daddy is gone away and he's never coming back again. He'll never hurt you or me or anyone else ever again. I promise you that." I looked at Jeremy. "Jeremy? Did you hear me?" He nodded. "That's not the same man, Son. They just look alike. He won't hurt you."

"He scares me," Jeremy sobbed.

Justin was calm in my other arm. He seemed to understand better than his brother, or he realized it was just a resemblance. "Bill is a nice man and he's your uncle. If you talk to him, you'll see. If I hold you, would you like to talk to him? I promise, he won't touch you."

Jeremy looked at Justin. Silent words passed between them. They both looked at me and nodded.

"I promise, too," Brad said reassuringly.

I looked at him. I'd almost forgot about him. "Are you okay? Jeremy got in a few good kicks."

Brad smiled his chipped-tooth smile. "Maybe a bruise here and there, but nothing serious." Then he added, "And nothing important."

I smiled weakly. "Go tell Bill what happened and explain to him that he looks like ‘You Know Who'. Bring him back alone. He'll know what to do. He always does"

He kissed the boys' cheeks before he left. "I'll be right back," he said.

"Do you need me?" Mom asked softly. I shook my head ‘no'. She disappeared from view.

"Don't be afraid, okay?" I said as I hugged and kissed the boys again. "I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you."

The boys still held onto me, but their grip had relaxed somewhat. We waited for Brad and Bill to arrive. I knew I could trust Bill to do the right thing. He was a big bear of a man, but a kitten in temperament. Somehow, I knew he would make things right.

Brad came in and sat on the other side of me, furthest from the door, but close enough that Jeremy could feel him there.

Bill approached slowly toward the door. He'd taken off his winter clothing and came forward with a gentle, friendly smile on his face. His hands were at his side, his palms opened casually and unthreateningly. He stopped in the doorway. "Hello," he said as gently and as cheerfully as he could. "I'm your Uncle Bill."

The boys' fingers clutched at my shirt again, but not as drastically as they had earlier.

"Brad told me that I look like someone who hurt you one time."

The boys nodded against my shoulders.

Still, Bill smiled. "Did he smile like me?" They shook their heads ‘no'. "Did he sound like me?" Again, ‘no'. "He just looked like me." Their heads shook up and down this time. "May I come in?" he asked. "I'd like to meet you."

Justin nodded his head. "Okay," he said cautiously.

Bill came forward slowly. As he neared the bed, he asked, "May I sit down?" Justin nodded and Bill sat carefully on the bed - close, but far enough away to be a threat.

I wish you could meet Bill. He's an amazing man. He knows people, and he knows how to handle them. He already knew about the murder and how the boys had been treated terribly by that man. It's doubtful that George ever asked the boys' permission for anything and used only threats in order to bend them to his will. Bill was making himself as unlike George as he possibly could.

"Thank you," he said softly. He was quiet for a long time, sitting there and letting the boys get used to him. They finally began to relax in my arms. "Did your Daddy Ted ever tell you about the time we made a great big snowman with your Uncle Warren when we were in college together?"

Damn! I'd forgot all about that. The boys shook their heads ‘no'.

Bill sat back and laughed. "Oh, my, but he was a big snowman," he said. "He was way bigger than both of you. He was bigger even than your Dad, here. We worked all day to make that snowman, and we made the biggest snowballs you've ever seen. The snowman was so big that your Dad had to climb up him to put the hat on his head. We used a great big carrot for his nose and we used black stones for his eyes and mouth. Then we used hockey sticks to make his arms and we even put a long, red, scarf around his neck. And do you know what we used for buttons on his coat?"

The boys were absorbed in Bill's story. I could feel their anxieties flowing away with his words. They shook their heads ‘no'.

"Go ahead and try to guess," Bill said with a cheerful laugh. "I bet you'll never guess."

"Stones?" Justin asked.

"No." Bill looked at Jeremy. "Can you guess?"

"Hockey pucks?"

"Aw, you guessed!" Bill said as he sat back and laughed again. "How did you know?"

"You used hockey sticks for his arms. Pucks make big buttons."

"Well, how about that? You're pretty smart for a little boy." To Justin, he said, "And you're pretty smart, too. Did you know your Dad still has a picture of that snowman?"

The twins looked at me. "Can we see it?"

"Sure," I said. Bill had worked his magic. "But first, I'd like you to say ‘hello' to your Uncle Bill."

"Hi," Justin said to him shyly, his index finger hooked in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said. "What's your name?"

"Justin."

Bill turned to the other twin. "So, you're Jeremy. Hi, Jeremy."

"Hi," Jeremy replied. "You smell different. You didn't hurt our other Daddy, did you?"

"No, I didn't, Jeremy," Bill said softly, smiling. "That was another man. That wasn't me."

Jeremy looked at him for a long while, studying his face intently. "You're not the bad man. You don't scare me anymore," he said finally.

"That makes me very happy, Jeremy" Bill said. "Now, let's go see that snowman, okay?" He stood up as the boys scrambled out of my lap to the floor.

Bill led the procession as Brad and I followed. Jeremy held Brad's hand now, and Justin held mine. Everyone was sitting in the livingroom and all were turned anxiously toward us. I saw Bill nod once and everyone relaxed noticeably. I couldn't see the expression on his face, but I knew it was telling everyone that all was well again.

I stopped near Warren, who was sitting on the sofa with Mom and Dad. Lindsay sat in his lap. "Boys? This is your Uncle Warren. Warren? This is Justin, and this is Jeremy."

"Oh, Teddy!" Warren exclaimed. "Quel petits bonhommes beaux! They're even more beautiful than the pictures you Emailed to me! And you have two of them! Merde!"

"Warren!" Mom reprimanded. Even she knew what that word meant.

"Sorry," Warren apologized, suitably humbled. "I got carried away."

"We're going to see that snowman we built, Warren," Bill said. "Care for a bit of nostalgia?"

"Oh, I was so fat back then. Do we have to?"

"Yes," I said. "We do."

I released Justin's hand. "Sit near the coffee table," I told him. He did, and was quickly joined by Jeremy.

I was just about to pull a few photo albums from the shelf when Warren screamed. "Ack!! Is that what I think it is!?" I looked around. Warren was staring at Brad's hand. "Come! Come!" he said, anxiously waving his hands forward and sliding out from under Lindsay. "Oh, it is!" Then he was on his feet and examining Brad's ring finger. "Teddy! Why didn't you tell me!?"

"Sorry, I forgot," I smiled.

"You forgot? Cochon! You forget to take out the trash! You don't forget becoming engaged!" Warren had a way of being a bit dramatic, especially when he was excited. Mom and Dad were used to it, but I'm quite certain he was surprising a few of our other guests.

He grabbed Brad in a bear hug and Brad had no other option than to return the hug. And then he was on me. He whispered in my ear, "You lucky son of a bitch!" I hugged him harder.

"Yes, Warren," I whispered back, "I am."

* * * * *

The boys were suitably impressed with the snowman. Bill was tallest of the three of us then, and the snowman stood a good metre taller than he was. The bottommost snowball was larger than a good-sized range. The only reason we had built the snowman where we did was because we couldn't push the snowball any further. I can't remember how we got the second ball on the first. I showed them other pictures of Bill and Warren and I together.

"Look, Daddy!" Justin laughed "Uncle Bill is showing his bum!" Bill was mooning the camera.

Bill chuckled and looked at Warren. "And you were worried about looking fat."

Brad promised to help the kids make their own snowman as soon as it warmed up enough for the snow to become packy. . . sticky. This was good weather for backyard ice rinks. Not so great for building snowmen.

By now, the twins were much more comfortable with Bill. They no-longer shied away from him. They wouldn't climb into his lap or anything like that yet, but at least they weren't afraid of him anymore, especially when they saw that Lindsay and I were so comfortable around him.

But, the kids were getting antsy for their second round of gifts, so we pressed ahead. Dad and John once again played Santa and handed out the gifts. Bill and Warren had gone crazy spending for the kids, of course.

Lindsay got a hand-crafted doll house complete with hand-made furniture and decorations from her uncles. It was incredibly realistic. The twins' gifts were for both of them. They got an electric train set and a race car track. I mention these gifts because it was something of a breakthrough moment. Lindsay, of course, gave both Warren and Bill a huge hug and kiss. A moment later, Justin and Jeremy took her place. They hugged and kissed both of their new uncles, and they went to Bill without hesitation. The ugly memories of George were pushed away forever. New memories of a gentle and loving Uncle Bill replaced them. The twins never mentioned George or their father again.

There were plenty of other little things for them to open, of course. Mostly toys. And the adults all had their share of gifts to unwrap. With Bill's help, I carried the final family gift up from the utility room where I had been hiding it. As soon as he saw the large, wrapped box, Brad knew what it was. I was so excited for my family as I watched all four of them unwrap the box. I was so excited when I saw Brad's eyes light up and that chipped-tooth grin appear. I was so excited when I watched him open the box and, with my help, lift the big-screen LCD television out of it. I wasn't so excited when he said, "Do you have any idea how good ‘Thwack Thwack' is going to look on this thing!?"

I had been thinking more along the lines of F-Zero.

I felt better when Brad grabbed me in his arms and crushed the breath out of me as he smothered me with kisses. I felt even better when six tiny arms wrapped themselves around my legs.

* * * * *

All the gifts were opened now, and Brad was nestled into me, my left arm over his shoulder and holding him. He took my left hand then and tapped at my ring. "This is when you would have got this," he said.

"In front of everyone?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"What if I had said no?"

Brad simply smiled at me. "That was never an option, was it?"

I stared into his startling green eyes for awhile, trying to remain serious. I couldn't. I began to smile. "No, it wasn't." I kissed him. Right there in front of everyone.

"C'est bon, ça," Warren said romantically. He heaved a heavy, dramatic sigh. "Toujours l'amour."

* * * * *

Somehow, we got the boys to lay down for a nap. They went to their bed with no problem, but I didn't think they would sleep. But, there had been a lot of emotions that day. A lot of excitement. A lot of energy burned. They fell asleep despite their resistance. Even Lindsay went to her room for a short nap.

I managed to convince Brad to entertain us with a few Christmas tunes, highlighted by a magnificent rendition of Silent Night.

"Is there anything that boy can't do?" Warren asked as Brad was playing Greensleeves.

"He can't knit," I joked.

Brad looked over his shoulder. "Only because you don't have any needles around here."

* * * * *

The oval dining room table had been extended to its full length and eleven chairs had been set around it. Food had been placed everywhere there was room, and what wouldn't fit on the table sat on the sideboard. Dad had carved the turkey. His right as patriarch.

There were two platters of turkey, with more waiting in the kitchen if necessary. Dishes of cranberry sauce, heated rolls and lots of butter, Mom's cranberry stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables of all sorts, squash, pickles and cheese, Jell-O salads, a sinfully sweet bowl of Waldorf salad, baked ham, and much more. There was wine for the adults and juice in wine glasses for the kids. There was plenty for everyone to enjoy exactly what they wanted.

Waiting in the kitchen were pumpkin pie, apple pie, cherry pie, and lemon pie (home-made by Mom and Bernice) with plenty of whipped cream or ice cream to top it. There were pecan tarts, lemon tarts, cherry tarts, and raspberry tarts. No-one would leave my table hungry.

I sat at the end nearest the doorway. Justin sat at the rounded corner of the table to my right. Jeremy sat to my left. Brad was beside him, then Warren and Bill. Dad sat at the other end with Mom on the corner next to him. Finally, there was John and Bernice and Lindsay.

We all held hands in a circle as Dad gave his traditional Afrikaans blessing before adding his own little bit in English: "And thank you especially for the two young lives you have blessed us with. Keep them safe always. Amen."

"Amen," ten other voices repeated.

* * * * *

It was not surprising that Mom used the dishwasher that afternoon. Warren and Bill insisted on helping to clean up after dinner, sending Brad and me into the livingroom to be with the kids and the two grandfathers. Brad was on the floor with the boys, setting up the race car track. He made a simple figure eight track, but it could be laid out in many other combinations. I watched as he worked. He was like a little boy himself, wrapped up in the excitement of it all.

When he was finished, he sat near the controls, cross-legged, with Jeremy settled into his ‘seat'. Of course, I had to sit with Justin. I was so full from dinner that I knew I'd need help getting up off the floor, but the screams of delight as the boys sent the cars around the track made the whole effort well worth while.

Lindsay sat quietly at the coffee table, rearranging the furniture in her doll house. Warren wouldn't tell me how much it had cost, but I had a good idea. Hand-crafted doll houses didn't come cheap.

Both Dad and John fell asleep on the settee. The others were working in the kitchen.

As I sat there beside Brad, holding Justin between my legs and watching the cars zipping around the black track, the magnitude of my new family finally sunk in. A few months earlier, I had moved into this house alone, and now I didn't even have enough room for everyone to sleep in it.

I clutched Justin just a little bit tighter and bent down to kiss his hair, and then I looked at Brad. I keep saying that he is the most beautiful person in the world. You must be getting sick of hearing it by now, but I never get sick of saying it. He truly is beautiful. Everyone should be as lucky as I am. . . to find someone like Brad who is so full of love for everything and everyone, who is so gentle and kind and full of life. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for those he cares about, and no-one could be in safer, more capable hands.

I watched his face as he held onto Jeremy and watched the cars going round and round. When Jeremy laughed, Brad laughed. When Jeremy bounced with excitement, so did Brad. He was so much into this family for someone as young as he is. Just a few days out of his teens and he was every bit the caring and responsible father.

He was much more comfortable with himself in front of the family than I was, but I was getting better. He would kiss me any time, anywhere. He would hold my hand, or hug me, or cuddle with me, but always with dignity and consideration for others around us. He was a free spirit, and he was enjoying his life. We were as different as night and day - at least in body. Brad was solid and toned and bulked. I wasn't. His hair was as light as mine was dark - as long as mine was short. His body was as smooth as mine was hairy.

I loved being naked with Brad, but I hated seeing us naked together. We had stood in front of the bathroom mirror a few weeks ago after our shower together. My arm was over Brad's shoulder. His was around my back. My other hand was drawing tiny circles on his stomach and chest.

"I should set up a gym downstairs and spend my nights down there."

"Why?" Brad asked.

"Look at us. You look incredible and I look like shit. You've got that body and I've got this one. I feel like I'm cheating you somehow."

Brad had spun around and pulled me into his arms, pressing that body against mine. "It wouldn't be real, Ted."

"What?" I asked.

"It wouldn't be real. It would be artificial. I didn't fall in love with artificial. I fell in love with this body and it's perfect the way it is."

"But wouldn't you like to look at something a little nicer? Something without love handles?"

"No, I wouldn't, Ted," he said smiling, "because I wouldn't be looking at you. This is you. This is the ‘you' I want. Don't even try to change it for me. I won't like it."

And then he dropped to his knees and showed me how much he didn't want me to change.

Now, you might be thinking that this is a strange thing to be talking about on Christmas Day, but those were the thoughts going through my head at the time. I had given up trying to figure out why Brad loved me, or why he found me attractive. If I saw myself on the street, I wouldn't give myself a second glance. But Brad saw something in me that was right for him.

You may have noticed that I don't talk about Brad's ‘endowment' much anymore. It's not like it's not there. It's always there, and, quite often, blatantly obvious to everyone. But, like everything else, we take it for granted now. We don't pay any attention to it. It's a part of Brad that cannot be erased. It is as accepted as his chipped tooth is. To people who see him for the first time, it's a fascination. To us, it's Brad. We would notice it only if it wasn't there anymore.

A pair of lips pressing against mine brought me out of my reverie. Brad was kissing me. "Penny for your thoughts," he said.

"God, I love you, Brad," I replied.

He smiled. "You know? I was just thinking the same thing about you." He kissed me again.

I don't know why Bernice had to bring in that plate of cookies and treats after that big dinner. Lord knows, we didn't need to eat any more food, but we all had coffee and tea and hot chocolate and we, by law I believe, required the cookies and things in case we wanted something to dunk into our chosen drinks.

I tell you, I've enjoyed my share of shortbread, but nothing matched what Bernice made. Even the shortbread from Scotland paled in comparison. You didn't have to chew. All you had to do was bite off a piece and let it melt on your tongue. It was seriously delicious!

Later in the afternoon, Brad talked Bill into helping him set up the new television and hook everything up to it. And then, horror of horrors, he appeared with a DVD in his hand and the most evil, disturbing grin on his face. "Thwack Thwack," he said. I tried to leave, but Bill held me back. Then, with Brad sitting beside me with his arm around me and the kids sitting in our laps, I hung my head as Brad pushed the ‘play' button.

Oh, how I wished someone had bought me a hammer for Christmas!

* * * * *

I got the boys into the tub and sat with them so they would wash instead of play. It was a short bath that night. Within twenty minutes, they were both cleaned and dried and dressed in pyjamas, robes, and slippers. Back in the livingroom, with Teddy bears in arms, they took their places in Brad's and my laps again. Despite the early hour, though, they soon began to fall asleep against our chests. We took them for a final round of hugs and kisses and ‘thank yous'.

When they got to Mom and Dad, they gave them their hug and kiss, and then Justin said proudly, "Dankie, Ouma. Dankie, Oupa."

Jeremy added with a broad grin, "Daddy taught us that."

From that moment on, Mom and Dad were known to the twins as ‘Ouma and Oupa'.

It was one of the few moments I've ever seen my father cry.

* * * * *

Brad and I put the boys to bed. Both of us got the biggest hugs we'd ever got from them, and we gave them the biggest hugs and kisses back. "I love you so much," I told each of them as I clutched them in my arms. I couldn't remember what it had been like before they came to live with me. They were just as precious to me now as Lindsay was.

Brad went back to join the others, but I stayed with them, sitting on the side of the bed and watching them fall asleep. I sat there for a long time afterward, watching them sleep. I heard someone enter the room quietly, and then I felt someone sitting on the bed behind me. Arms came around my chest and held me, and then a chin came to rest on my shoulder.

"You have everything I've ever wanted, Teddy," Warren spoke softly. "Everything I've been afraid to chase after. I don't have your courage."

I turned around to face him. "Thanks, Warren."

Warren's hand came to my hair and brushed through it. "Do you have any idea how much everyone here loves you, Ted?"

"I think so," I said.

"No, my love, you don't." His hand came to rest on my shoulder. "I've been watching today. As much as you think they all love you, you have to multiply it many times over. Especially these boys. You gave them a lot today, but nothing means more to them than you. They're your sons, Ted. As much your sons as they would be had they sprouted from your own loins. You may not have created them, but they are yours. And I can't think of a single person who they deserve more as a father.

"You're an incredible man, Ted. Look around you. See what you've done. I know you, Ted. I know you better than you know yourself. You're sitting here, thinking that you've done what anyone else would do. You're wrong. No-one I know could have conquered all the hurdles you've encountered lately. No-one else could have made a family out of what you were given. You took your daughter away from the mother who was hurting her. You took a lonely young man and made him yours. You took two little boys whose lives had been swept away from them and gave them the home and love they need. Then you took two sets of parents and made them realize that this is the way it's all supposed to be."

I was fighting against the tears, but they were winning. "Warren," I said in a ragged voice, "please stop."

He pulled me into his arms and held me as I cried into his shoulder. "You are loved, Teddy," he whispered. "Don't ever doubt that."

* * * * *

The kids were asleep. John and Bernice had gone home and Warren and Bill had returned to Mississauga. Mom and Dad were downstairs in their guestroom. The lights were all turned out now and the house was locked up and safe for the night.

Brad sat between my legs, his back pressed against my chest as I held him tightly around his naked chest. The hot water in the bathtub eased away the exhaustion of that Christmas Day. We didn't say anything. Our bodies spoke for us. Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every touch of the fingers. Everything spoke for us.

And when we were finished speaking silently, we went to our bedroom, closing the door behind us. Brad made love to me that night. My final gift to him and his final gift to me that Christmas Day, and it was our first gift to each other with rings on our fingers.

Brad's lovemaking was specially gentle and tender and slow. Again, our bodies spoke to each other and our eyes locked onto each other. Many times, Brad would push into me and bend down to kiss me, and then he would begin again. It was all wonderful, but I had to end it. It had been a long time since Brad had fucked me and he was stretching me much longer than he usually did.

He pulled out of me with as much care as he had entered me. I removed the condom and tossed it to the floor and Brad moved around to face my feet. Together, we finished each other with eager and hungry mouths. Our orgasms were as intense as our love. Brad filled me that night. I can't remember the last time there had been so much. It was like two climaxes at the same time.

It took a long time for both of us to come down from that ecstasy. We lay there, side by side until our cocks softened inside our mouths, and then for a long time after that. At last, Brad pulled his head away from me and slipped his cock from between my lips. As he settled in beside me once again in preparation for sleep, I turned out the lamp and he pulled the blankets over us. We kissed then, mixing our flavours together.

The kiss was as slow and tender as Brad's lovemaking had been, although it didn't last as long. When it ended, I said softly, "I love you."

Brad replied just as softly, "I love you, too."

We fell asleep naked that night. For the first time in a long time, we left the door closed.

To Be Continued​

 

[caddymac]

I see there is another Chapter to this wonderful story. I look forward to reading more. I sure hope the boys are okay after the encounter at the front door.

 

[Kyanimal]

Ah, Neil! Once again ... AWESOME!!!! BIG HUGS, Man! BIG HUGS!!!


Keep smilin'!! (And writin'!!)
Chaz

 

[Trent0n1]

When they got to Mom and Dad, they gave them their hug and kiss, and then Justin said proudly, "Dankie, Ouma. Dankie, Oupa."

Jeremy added with a broad grin, "Daddy taught us that."

From that moment on, Mom and Dad were known to the twins as ‘Ouma and Oupa'.

It was one of the few moments I've ever seen my father cry.

I've now wised up to you Neil. You take a perverse pleasure in the knowledge that your words make countless grown men cry like little babies!
Another fantastic chapter. I'm just worried that one day we won't see "to be continued" at the end.

Thanks Neil.

 

[gsdx]

I'm just worried that one day we won't see "to be continued" at the end.

Thanks Neil.

I've been giving this some serious thought. This story will come to an end, yes. It's going along in a real time-line, so it can't extend beyond the present. But I don't plan on ever writing 'The End' in it. You will probably see 'To Be Continued?' instead and I'll update it occasionally as time passes.

PS - I don't take perverse pleasure in making you cry. The way I figure it, if I'm crying as I write it, I'm going to damned-well make someone else cry, too. )

 

[gmoney]

I can't remember if it was this or "Taking care of Jason", but in one chapter you mentioned 2006 as a time line. From the narrative point, it sounds like this is a life respective, which makes me assume this could go on and on. I hope and choose to think the latter! I get an immense amount of emotional enjoyment from both stories, so I will pray this goes on and on, at least for the unseeable future! Thanks again for your tremendous talent! You have touched more people than you will ever know!