Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2004 20:00:13 -0500
From: Sequoyah <sequoyah@charter.net>
Subject: Mountain Magic 18

Mountain Magic

Chapter Eighteen

When we got downstairs, Grandmom and Granddad were seated at the kitchen
table. "Have a seat, fellows," Granddad said. "Wesley, I have told
Mrs. McElrath the highlights of your situation. Neither of us want to be
vindictive or nasty, but we do want you to understand how we feel about you
and your family's treatment of our son and his family and especially your
treatment of Douglas after his entire family was killed."

I glanced at Wesley and saw him turn white--fearing, I'm sure, rejection. I
didn't blame him. As a matter of fact, I wasn't sure myself that wasn't
what was coming. I mean he was guilty as charged and should have to face
the fact that I had lost my entire family and his only concern had been
about who got buried where.

Suddenly I felt a wave of hot anger flood over me, surprising me since I
thought I had dealt with that. When I glanced at Jason I could tell from
his narrowed eyes and the icy stare he was directing at Wesley that he,
too, was very angry.

Wesley, of course, didn't know Granddad and couldn't know that Granddad
wasn't really angry, just saddened, hurt, by how I had been treated. If he
had really been angry, everyone in the room would have known it from his
reaction...


I had seen Granddad really angry only once, but that was enough. When I was
ten or eleven, the family had driven up from Durham to spend Labor Day
weekend with my grandparents. Granddad was driving to the feed store for
some feed and asked if I'd like to ride along. I hopped into the truck as
my answer.

On our way we happened upon a farmer and his wagon. The old horse hitched
to the wagon was so poor his ribs were sticking out. I don't know what the
pitiful creature had done, but the farmer had left the wagon and was
beating the horse with a bull whip. Granddad slammed on the brakes, stopped
the truck and was out of it in a flash.

He grabbed the whip from the farmer and raised it, ready to whip the farmer
before I knew what had happened. When the farmer threw up his arm to fend
off the blow, Granddad slowly lowered the whip.

Still trembling from anger, Granddad spoke through clinched teeth. "Henry,
you better be glad I got control of my temper before I gave you a
horsewhipping. I'm not sure but that I might not still do it. There's
nothing your poor old horse could have done to deserve the whipping you
were giving him. From the looks of his back, this is not the first
time. You unhitch him, take him down to that branch," Granddad pointed to
the small stream near the road, "and let him drink. When he finishes, you
let him graze along the branch.. There's some good grass there."

"I'll be back in an hour or so and you better still be here. When I get
back, if you have let that poor horse eat and drink, you can go on into
Coldsprings. On your way back, you stop by my barn and get some oats for
your horse. I'll not see a dumb animal abused."

By the time he had finished, Granddad was pretty calm but when he got back
in the truck, he said, "Henry Conner is a lazy good-for-nothing. He has a
decent meadow but he's too stingy to let someone cut and bale the hay off
of it. He's afraid they'll get a straw or two more than their share. He
also has a good pasture but he's too lazy to keep the fence in repair, so
he can't let his stock in it since they'll leave. I can't understand people
like Henry who abuse their animals."

No, you didn't want to be the object of Gerald McElrath's anger...

When I snapped out of my daydream, I heard Granddad say, "Mrs. McElrath
feels, as I do, that what your family has done to our son and his children
over the years is inexcusable. And you, yourself, said you are not innocent
in that regard. I know that to be true, as I recall how upset Douglas was
when he realized that, with the exception of your father who showed some
common decency, the entire Wilson clan dismissed him as unworthy of its
concern and care when his family was killed. That would be hard, very hard,
to forgive, but forgiveness hasn't been asked by your family so that's not
a question."

"To be honest, Wesley, I find it hard to forgive you for the emotional pain
you have caused my son and his family. But, unlike your family, you have
asked not only for forgiveness but also for our care and concern. I suspect
it sounds strange, but I find it much harder to turn down cries for help
than I do pleas for forgiveness. Forgiveness is often needed and necessary,
but it cannot alleviate past pain. Present pain can be addressed and,
possibly, the sufferer given some comfort. In any case, after hearing what
has been done to you--and with both the approval and support of your
family--I cannot turn down your request for help."

I looked up at Wesley when I heard him exhale, releasing the breath which
he had obviously been holding for some time. Can't say I blamed him. I
think I might have been doing the same.

I felt the anger in me recede as I exhaled, and saw the same was true of
Jason.

Granddad continued, "That being said, I would be dishonest if I didn't say
I do have a problem with your being gay. It is not an issue I have ever had
to deal with, so a part of my problem is simply ignorance and confrontation
with something new. Oh I knew there were gay men out there somewhere, but
that's not like having one under your roof, someone you know
personally--and especially someone you are expected to care for and
protect."

I glanced at Jason, who had also heard Granddad's comment. We both knew
we'd not be outting ourselves any time soon!

"But your being gay is not enough to make me turn away from helping you all
I can. We'll both just have to work on that and I think we'll have both
time and opportunity to do so. Unless you have questions for me..." Wesley
shook his head no. "Then I guess that's about it for me," Granddad said and
turned to Grandmom.

"Wesley, I am the mother of one man and the grandmother of another your
family has hurt deeply over the years. And you, as Mr. McElrath has said,
are certainly not innocent of inflicting your share of pain."

"I hope you can appreciate the fact that being a mother and grandmother
puts me in a real bind. On the one hand, I feel like a mother bear who is
called upon to protect her cubs, and even though my son is dead and no
longer needs my protection, Douglas does. Since you have hurt him in the
past, I feel the need to protect him from you now. I hope you understand
that." Grandmom paused and looked at Wesley who nodded slowly. "On the
other hand, I listened with utter horror to the account of what has been
done to you in the name of religion and with the support of your parents."

"I am absolutely disgusted with your parents for not only allowing you to
be treated in a grossly cruel and inhuman manner, but also for approving
and paying for it. If they didn't know what went on in that so-called
clinic, they should have. They were beyond negligent in not demanding to
know all about the so-called treatment. They should have had a clear
understanding of what went on there. If they did and knew what would be
done to you they should be horsewhipped! In either case, knowing or not
knowing, spending a month 'in treatment' at that crazy place would be too
little punishment for them."

It was clear to me the scrappy, little mountain woman was ready to fight
the whole St. Paul's bunch and dismantle the clinic with her bare hands,
and there was no doubt in my mind that she could do it!

"So, in spite of what you and your family have done to mine in the past, I
feel, as a mother, a need to protect you. Your being gay is no never mind
to me so long as you know to keep it in your pants until you meet someone
you intend to 'love, honor and cherish' the rest of your natural-born
life. I expect you to behave yourself just as I would expect you to if you
were straight--treating people with respect and not as sex objects. That
includes hitting on... that is what it's called isn't it?" Grandmom looked
at Wesley, her eyes leaving no doubt she knew exactly what she was saying
and that she meant it, "...hitting on the young men in this house and their
friends."

My grandparents still surprised me at times with how "up-to-date" they
were. I guess because of the way mountain people, including my
grandparents, sound when they speak, it's too easy to think they are so
"backwoodsy" they are uninformed about the "real world". Then they surprise
you, like Grandmom's acceptance of Wesley's being gay and knowing what
"hitting on" someone meant. Way to go Grandmom!

"In another vein, as a mother, I do think that you should and you will let
your family know you are safe." It was clear Grandmom was not presenting an
option Wesley could take or leave. It was equally clear that Wesley was
about to balk when Grandmom held up her hand, "No-one, Wesley, would ask
that you reveal your whereabouts. I am as concerned as you are that your
parents would come and haul you back to St. Paul's madhouse if they knew
you were here. No, I am not demanding that you reveal your location, but
that you let your parents know you are safe. How that is done, we'll decide
later. After all, a couple days' or a week's worry probably won't do them a
great deal of harm and may do some good."

"Any questions?" Granddad asked.

Wesley and Grandmom turned and looked at Jason and me.

"Only some about how we are going to get some things done, such as getting
Wesley registered at school, getting him some clothes, that sort of thing,"
Jason said. "That's not going to be as simple as it was for Douglas and
me."

"Well, we have almost two weeks before school starts again," Granddad
said. "I guess you guys can haul Wesley into Asheville Monday and hit your
fashion shops," he said with a grin.

Sunday, after church, Granddad asked us to take Grandmom with us as he had
some business to talk over with Fr. Hanson. Grandmom suggested we go into
Clarksville for Sunday dinner which we did. "Your granddad will join us
unless he talks too long with Fr. Hanson--which he is prone to do."

Granddad didn't make it to Clarksville and when we got back to the farm, he
was in the den. "Come on in," he said. "I have some news. I talked to
Fr. Hanson about our situation here and he was able to give me some help
and guidance. Wesley, he gave me a check from his discretionary fund to be
used in getting you some clothes. He called Fr. Mason, a priest friend of
his, and made arrangements for a telegram to be sent to your parents
stating that you are safe and asking that they not try to contact you. It
will be sent from Phoenix with no real return address."

"That makes me feel a lot better because, regardless of how mistaken your
parents have been, they are your parents and need to know you are safe. We
did agree to wait a few days before the telegram is sent, to give you time
to get to Phoenix and, as Mrs. McElrath said, a little worry won't hurt
your parents. Fr. Hanson also made arrangements for you to send letters to
Fr. Mason to be sent to your parents with a Phoenix postmark if and when
you wish to do so. No rush."

"As to the gay thing, he gave me a couple books to read. Shocked me when he
said he had once been very anti-gay until he found himself having to accept
a couple of gay young men or tell them what St. Paul's told you, 'God hates
fags.' 'Gerald,' he said, 'I had preached and believed God hates
no-one. When I started the "God hates sin but loves the sinner," bit to
justify my position, I had to realize the only "sin" the two guys had
committed was loving each other and I had to change my tune.'"

"Your grandmother--doggone it Wesley, I am so used to just referring to
Jason and Douglas as grandsons, and ourselves as their grandparents, that I
feel awkward here...."

"Mr. McElrath, I'd be honored to be a grandson," Wesley responded.

Granddad didn't pick up on that and said instead, "Well, anyway,
Mrs. McElrath has no problem with your being gay and since I do, I will be
sitting down with Fr. Hanson and working through my feelings about the
situation--which I confess is very confused at the moment."

"If it helps any, I was pretty confused myself until I admitted who I was,"
Wesley said. "No reason anyone else shouldn't be."

"I guess I can understand that," Granddad said. "Anyway, Fr. Hanson also
suggested we might all sit down with him after the holidays when we've had
time to get to know each other better, and I told him we would."

Since there was no school until after New Year's, we had no homework to
do. But I was going into Asheville to meet with Professor Jamison Monday,
so I needed to practice. When I started, Wesley came into the living room
and said, "Ah, the old grand. I wasted a lot of time sitting on that bench
doing nothing."

"Then you didn't learn to play?" I asked.

"Not the piano. I did take up guitar and got pretty good with it. Actually,
very good but, of course, guitar is not something you play for Mother's
snooty friends. Mother and Father thought I not should waste my time and
money on a guitar, but Mary Capers thought otherwise and gave me a
beautiful Martin twelve-string for Christmas several years ago. My sister
likes to stick it to Mother every chance she gets, and Mother was not only
put out because Mary Capers had given me the guitar but also because of
what it cost. I wanted to take it with me when I was shipped off to
St. Paul's but it wasn't allowed. Good thing, because it would have been
taken from me and, I suspect, never returned. Of course, I can't get it
now."

"Grandma told me she had played the guitar and sang all her life," Jason
said. "I loved to listen to her, but had never given any thought to playing
or singing. But last summer I was working in the corn field and singing my
heart out," Jason smiled at his recollection of a good time, "and Grandma
was working in the garden further up the hill and heard me. When we went to
the house for dinner, she said, 'Heard you singing down in the corn field
this morning. You've got a good voice, Jason.'"

"I said, 'I don't know about that. But I do like to sing, especially when
I'm working.'"

"'I always thought it made the work go easier, but then I like to sing when
I'm not working as well,' Grandma said. That evening, after supper, Grandma
took down her old, battered guitar and said, 'Let's sing some.' We sang
several songs and Grandma began to talk about harmony and chords and those
sorts of things. Before we went off to bed, I had had my first guitar
lesson. All summer long, the two of us would sit on the cabin's porch after
supper and play and sing. I was playing guitar pretty well by the time the
cabin burned. Of course the guitar was burned in the fire."

"You never told me you played guitar," I chided Jason.

"Wouldn't have done any good since the guitar was gone."

"Hank plays fiddle and banjo, but I have seldom heard him since he pretty
much plays for himself," I said, then returned to the problem at hand:
Wesley's things.

"Back up a minute," I said. "I had no problem getting my things. Even got
the piano. Jason didn't have anything to worry about since 'most everything
he owned burned. Maybe you can go back and get your stuff. Maybe we can
figure out a way to do that. Everybody needs their own stuff."

"You said you weren't eighteen," Jason said. "When is your birthday?"

Wesley laughed and said, "St. Elvis and St. Wesley Day, January
eight. Why?"

"After you're eighteen, you're an adult in most ways, can't buy beer but
otherwise you're an adult. You could go back home then and get your
stuff. I don't think your parents could drag you off to St. Paul's."

"Maybe not, but they don't have to let me in either," Wesley said.

"I can't believe they would do that, do you?" Jason asked.

"Yes, I do. I don't think they would let me in or let me take my
things. But then I really don't know because, to tell you the truth, I know
very little about my parents. I know that sounds strange, but my life was a
series of arranged events. And when I got old enough to do things on my
own, I certainly didn't hang around my parents."

"I know something about that, " I said. "Dance lessons, music lessons,
martial arts lessons...."

"You'll have to admit at least martial arts lessons served you well," Jason
said. I held my breath for fear he would add, "and the dance lessons too."
When he didn't, I gave a sigh of relief.

I guess it was Wesley telling the grandparents he was gay and all about it
that made me hypersensitive to any remark that might out both Jason and
me. The fact that we knew Granddad had a problem with Wesley being gay
meant he would have an even larger one with Jason and me being gay. I guess
I had gone drifting off to another planet thinking about that, and when I
came back to earth, Jason was telling Wesley about the fight at school.

"Yeah, I sure was glad I had some martial arts training and I am glad for
the music lessons," I said. "And yeah, Wesley, I know what you mean. I did
spend very little time with the family after I was twelve or so. About the
time..." I caught myself before I said "About the time I started worrying
about being gay." "...I started playing baseball." I could see Jason
relax. He knew what I had almost said and he was as uptight right now as I
was.

"So you understand," Wesley said. "I really don't know how my family would
react if I showed up on the doorstep a month from now."

"How well do you get along with your sister?" I asked, remembering her
defense of me at the funeral and hoping there might be a way of finding out
what was going on with his parents.

"Fine. As a matter of fact, she knew about me and Dwight and warned me
about him. Once she asked me about my feelings for Dwight and I told her I
was in love with him. She said I better watch it, warning me that Dwight
was only interested in two things, 'sex and the family money. Well maybe
three, he's also interested in the Edwards money. Any threat to the money
and he'd dump his mother. Sex? You fell for him so you know that'll be no
problem. He can find all the sex he wants. BUT if his sister finds out he's
fucking you, you'll be dead meat.' Fool-like, I didn't listen."

Monday, both Hank and Jonathan were working at the music store because of
the pre-Christmas rush, so only the three "McElrath" boys went into
Asheville. Granddad had cashed the discretionary fund check for us so we
had thirty-five dollars to spend. Since Wesley had decent shoes, the money
would go a long way toward getting him clothes. I left him and Jason
shopping while I went to UNC-Asheville to meet with Professor Jamison.

Professor Jamison had hinted he had something up his sleeve earlier, and I
expected him to say something about it as soon as I arrived but he
didn't. Instead, he had me play the piece I had been working on, and then
gave me an etude I had not seen before and asked me to play it. It was so
short that after I had played it through a couple or three times I had it
memorized. After a few more exercises, he asked me to play the etude again
and I did, from memory. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, which shocked me as he
was never overly critical but didn't go overboard on praise either.

"Douglas, I have been working with Maestro Alexas, conductor of the
Asheville Symphony. He wants to do a spring series in which local
performers are featured, and asked me to pick a piano student to play with
the orchestra. I would like for you to do it. Are you interested?"

"I... I don't know. That's pretty big--and frightening. Do you honestly
think I could do it? Really?"

"Douglas, I wouldn't risk my reputation by suggesting a student I didn't
have confidence in. Sure, you can do it. It'll require a lot of hard work
on your part, but I haven't found you unwilling to do that. Think about
it. I don't have all the details yet but I do want you to be thinking about
it."

"And the piece?"

"Oh, I guess you would like to know that. Why not the piece every young
pianist takes a crack at and which put Van Cliburn on the road to fame: the
Tchaikovsky Concerto Number One? Actually, I think you might handle
that. At this stage in your career--Professor Jamison actually said 'your
career'--you are no Van Cliburn but you're good. By the time you are
twenty, you might be able to win both the Tchaikovsky competition AND the
Van Cliburn Foundation award. Who knows? But, as things stand, the
Tchaikovsky may be too much. That is, not for you or the orchestra, but for
the program. I don't know what all Maestro is planning, Let's both be
thinking about what you might choose. Ok?"

Well, I guess Professor Jamison can go overboard with praise. "You really
think I can handle something like a movement from the Tchaikovsky or
something that long and difficult?" I asked.

"Do you doubt you can?"

I guess I should have played the humble bit, but I knew I could handle a
piece like that and would bust ass to prove it. I looked at Professor
Jamison, grinned and said, "Not a doubt in the world! Thanks!"

"You're welcome--to a lot of hard work, Douglas. Can you come back
tomorrow? Maestro Alexas will be here to meet you and we'll set out a
schedule for practice then, if you can be here."

"I'll be here," I responded.

Jason and I had agreed to meet at 12:00 since Professor Jamison had said
I'd need longer for my lesson. It took even longer than I had planned and
it was nearly 12:30 before I reached Pack Square. The day was bright, but
hardly warm. I parked around the corner from the square, got out of the
Jeep and started walking around the square looking for the guys. After I
had walked around it once, I stood beneath the Vance monument, looking
around. As I was about to walk the square again, I saw the two guys walking
out of an art gallery down the street.

I waved at them and they came running up the sidewalk. As they reached me,
Jason asked, "Where have you been? We were freezing!"

"Yeah, but we sure saw some beautiful works in the Blue Spiral," Wesley
said.

"And some weird ones," Jason added.

"The lesson had a bit of an addition today," I answered and told them about
playing with the symphony. I wasn't surprised when Jason got all excited,
but Wesley seemed every bit as excited as Jason. "How did you do shopping?"
I asked.

"We did fine. Since Wesley may be going to Charlotte before long to get his
stuff, we just got what he had to have at the Junior League
shop. Mrs. Walton said to tell you hello and that she hadn't seen you for a
couple weeks."

"I'll have to go by when I come in tomorrow. I hope you found a decent
coat," I said to Wesley.

"It cost ten bucks," Wesley said, "but it is really nice, don't you think?"
I felt foolish when I realized he was wearing a parka and had only a light
jacket of Granddad's when we drove in.

"Looks great, but I'm sorry they had to kill the sled dog," I said in a sad
voice as I stroked the fur around the hood.

"He never made lead dog and was tired of the view he had pulling the
sled. Also, he was old and toothless and wanted to be next to a neat guy
after he finished life in this vale of tears. But, most of all, he was sick
of the prejudice against polyester sled dogs," Wesley said as he stroked
the faux fur. I had to hand it to my cousin, he did have a sense of
humor--adolescent, I guess--but I liked it.

As we got into the Jeep, Jason said, "I think I have been careful enough
with my money since I've been working, and so have you, Douglas. Let's
splurge and go to a nice place for lunch and skip Sonic." We ended up at
Magnolia having a really great lunch.

As we were walking back to the Jeep, Jason spied a public
telephone. "Wesley! Didn't you say your sister would pull for you?" Wesley
nodded. "Well then, why don't you call her, call home? If you called from a
public phone there would be no way to trace it and even if someone did, it
would be a dead end.

"Good idea," Wesley said, "and today is a good time to call. I know my
parents are out--Father at work and Mother at her monthly book club meeting
and luncheon. I just hope Mary Capers is home and I can talk to her. One of
you can call because Cassandra will probably answer the phone and she would
definitely recognize my voice."

Jason called and when he had Mary Capers on the phone, handed it to
Wesley. He and I waited while Wesley talked. He talked for almost half an
hour. All three of us were shivering by the time he hung up. As soon as he
had, we ran to the Jeep and, once inside, started home.

"Well what did Mary Capers have to say?" I asked.

"A lot," Wesley replied. "First of all she asked me not to tell her where I
was. 'Mother and Father think you are somewhere in Charlotte,' she
said. 'Maybe you are and maybe you're not, but if I don't know where you
are, I can't let it slip.' She said she thought Father was having second
thoughts about me, but Mother was mostly just pissed because they had paid
so much to get me cured and I escaped."

"St. Paul's is refusing to refund the money for the weeks I won't be 'in
treatment'. Mother was threatening to sue until Father reminded her that
even more of Charlotte society would know they had a gay son if she did.
Mary Capers said it hadn't been settled yet. 'You know Mother. She is
between a rock--losing some money--and a hard place--having all who count
in Charlotte know she has a gay son,' Mary Capers laughed."

"Anyway, and as always when things don't go her way, Mother has decided to
run away from her problems. She has decided she and Father need a trip, so
they are off to Bermuda for Christmas and New Year's. Mary Capers is
leaving Wednesday, going skiing in Vale. She'll be there until the day
after New Year's. "

"I told her I was close enough to get my things if she thought it was
safe. She said I needed to be careful and not have the neighbors call the
police, but she thought it was a good idea for me to come soon. 'That way,
when we get back after Christmas you could have come from and gone to just
about anywhere. I've already told Father he needs to double my allowance
since he's not giving you one. Of course he agreed. I planned to deposit
your allowance as usual, hoping you'd have a way to get it and use it.'"

"She said St. Paul's had said they would send my things home--what I had on
when I got there, my wallet, all that. So, when I get to Charlotte, I can
get my things, but I can get money anytime now." Wesley suddenly stopped
and said, "Shit! I can't get any money because I don't have my ATM card!"

"Oh well, anyway, I'm telling you Mary Capers is a smart girl and has had
enough problems resisting attempts to force her into being an empty-headed
southern lady, that she is becoming human. I told her about the telegram
from Phoenix and she said she thought that was good, even though my parents
didn't seem all broken up over my disappearance. 'I'll tell them nothing,'
she said. 'Let them--especially Mother--worry a little bit.' She suggested
the biggest worry Mother seemed to have was that I might show up in
Charlotte and announce I was gay."

"She reminded me Cassandra, the maid, would be coming to the house even
though everyone was gone. She will come later as she won't have to prepare
breakfast. 'Come early,' she said, 'so no-one will call the police. Come,
get your things and get out before Cassandra arrives. If you get here and
are gone by 11:00 you'll probably be safe,' she added."

"Mary Capers will leave the keys and codes for the alarm so I can get my
things. Then when my parents get back and discover I have been in the
house, it will be too late to do anything about it. Surely by the time they
can trace me--if they try--I will be eighteen. And, as I said, Mary Capers
will not tell the rents I called, so they won't hear from me until they get
back and see the telegram from Phoenix."

We got home at 3:30. Grandmom said Granddad had gone into Coldsprings to
the seed and feed store to pick up a load of feed. We changed into work
clothes and went to the barn, ready to help unload the feed and get it into
the feed room. When Granddad got back and we started unloading the feed,
Wesley commented on how easily Jason and I moved the bags of feed while he
had to struggle with them. "I guess you need to do a little hard work,"
Jason said.

It took an hour to get the feed put away, and when we got back to the house
Grandmom had coffee waiting. "Got some news," I announced as I sat down. "I
have been asked to play with the Asheville symphony this spring." I told my
grandparents about my conversation with Professor Jamison and both were
very pleased and proud, which made me feel very good.

"I have some news as well. At least I think I do. I called my sister
today," Wesley said. I guess he saw the look on Granddad's face for he
quickly added, "I used a public phone and didn't tell her where I was."
Wesley then told the grandparents about his conversation with Mary
Capers. He then asked Granddad what he thought about his making a trip to
Charlotte.

"I guess the question is how much trust you can put in your sister. Do you
think she can keep a secret? Do you think she will make sure the alarms can
be turned off?

"I would trust her with my life,' Wesley responded.

"You will. She will have your life in her hands," Granddad answered.

It was after 5:00 when Jason, Wesley and I went by the music store and
picked up Hank and Jonathan to do our office cleaning. The four of us roped
Wesley into helping, and all had a good laugh at him since he had to be
shown how to do everything.

Jonathan took great delight in seeing that Wesley got stuck with cleaning
the toilets. We were so busy there wasn't time to talk about my news or
Wesley's. When we had finished with the offices, all five of us piled in
the Jeep and headed home. While Jonathan was very excited about my news,
Hank was more interested in Wesley's.

Tuesday I was back in Asheville to spend time with Professor Jamison and
meet Maestro Alexas. After we talked for a short time, Maestro said, "Well
I have always wished talking would get a job done, but it doesn't seem to
work that way. Douglas, Professor Jamison tells me you are good, very
good. I assume he has told you all about my little plan."

"Just that you might want me to play with the symphony."

"Right. The first time would be an open concert in February. I'm thinking
about a concert called something like "A Western North Carolina Sampler",
with a dozen short pieces featuring talent from western North Carolina. I
think the pieces should be light, and real show-off pieces. It's to be open
to the public, free, on a 'first come, first served' basis, so the pieces
really do need to be in the line of pops concerts."

"After the free concert, I plan two concerts a month in March, April and
May, where one or two of the artists from the sampler will play longer
pieces with the symphony. Then, if you're as good as Jamison says you are,
I'd like for you to tour with the symphony during the summer. Nothing
really big, just a European tour during July."

"Tour Europe?" I'm sure my jaw was on the floor.

"It's in the planning stage, but now I'd like to hear you play." Professor
Jamison picked out some music and I played several pieces. When I finished
we talked about practice, the summer and, finally, about my working with
the symphony.

I was more than a little elated--and overwhelmed--as I did some Christmas
shopping and then drove back to Coldsprings.

When I got back, Granddad and Grandmom had finished lunch and were both
sitting in the den reading. I fixed myself a plate and sat down at the
kitchen table to eat. I had just started eating when the grandparents came
into the kitchen. "How was practice?" Granddad asked.

"I guess it went well," I answered. "Where are the boys?"

"They went off with Hank and Jonathan rabbit hunting."

"Wesley rabbit hunting?" I laughed. "That I would like to see! But back to
my lesson today." I told my grandparents about the tour. "I guess I can
hold off any decision about that until we can figure out how things will
get done around here next summer." I had thought about that shortly after I
drove into the shed and parked the Jeep.

"I don't think that needs any consideration," Grandmom said. "After all,
your grandfather and I did not know we would have any help on the farm. Now
there's you, Jason, and Wesley here. Unless some great offer comes Jason's
way, I'm sure he'll be here this summer and it could well be that Wesley
will be here also. As I see it, you have no decision to make. If you are
asked, you go. Just because you have been asked to attempt to play with the
symphony doesn't mean you will end up playing with it, does it?"

"Good way to boost the kid's self-esteem, Old Woman," Granddad laughed.

"Self-esteem" is a running joke in the house after one of Jason's teachers
asked for a conference with the grandparents. Granddad asked, "What's the
problem? The boy is making all As and Bs--and mostly As." The teacher had
responded that grades weren't important, to which Grandmom replied, "You
are right if we are talking about a grade as a grade, but the learning
represented by a grade is very important."

"They are also important if the boy wants to keep eating and sleeping with
a roof over his head," Granddad said. The teacher was horrified that
Granddad would even say such a thing. Of course, in one sense Granddad was
pulling her leg, but in another he meant what he said. If our grades fell
because we were not putting enough effort into school, we'd probably be
lucky to get to sleep in the barn!

The conference turned out to be very long and concerned Jason's self-esteem
or rather the lack thereof. The gist of the teacher's remarks were that
academics were not nearly as important as building self-esteem. Before
Granddad could say anything, Jason said, "I'll be so glad that I can hold
my head high when I graduate with a diploma I can't read." That ended the
conference.

The teacher put a note in Jason's file saying his foster parents were
unconcerned about his high school progress and he was disrespectful when
she had tried to discuss the situation with him.

When Ms. Kennedy saw the note, she checked his last progress report and was
even more puzzled. It was not like she didn't know Jason very well. When
she asked the teacher about Jason, she got a run-around and called the
grandparents in.

When she heard about the conference, she was as incensed as my grandparents
had been, and had Mr. Duncan call the teacher in for a conference with
Ms. Kennedy, Jason and two very put-out grandparents. The note was taken
out of the file and Jason transferred to a class with a different teacher.

After that conference, a day seldom passed without some joke about
self-esteem. When someone messed up, the comment generally was "I'm
(ignorant, clumsy, inattentive, etc.), but I've got great self-esteem."

"You're right, of course," I said, "but I do have the confidence and
self-esteem to believe I can do well, but in case confidence and
self-esteem aren't all that's needed, Professor Jamison wants to see me two
more days--Tuesday and Thursday--each week. No increase in cost of lessons,
but there will be the expense of getting into Asheville three times a week
and it will mean I will have to quit work on those days."

"Douglas, you don't have to work, you know," Granddad said. "I suspect the
days you don't see Professor Jamison you will need to practice, and you
were planning on playing baseball. Is that still on?"

"I hope so. I'll have to see if I can work in baseball and
lessons. Professor Jamison did say he could see me for the Tuesday and
Thursday lessons late. I'd leave Coldsprings after baseball practice and be
pretty late getting home and there's still work."

"If Jason thinks they can handle it, why not let Jonathan and Wesley take
over your job? Wesley may not need the money, but work won't hurt
him. Jonathan needs the money, but is a little young...."

I laughed and said, "You know, Granddad, I realized this week that he is
less than two years younger than I am.

"That doesn't seem possible," Grandmom said, "but at your ages a few months
can make a lot of difference and there is a wide spread in maturation rates
as well. But he can handle working can't he?"

"He does very well. He is very meticulous--but tentative--so he doesn't get
as much done as he might, but what he does is done right and in time, I
suspect, he will lose his tentativeness. Jason is very supportive and
sooner or later Jonathan will realize he doesn't have to prove something to
Jason or anyone else. There's no question but that he can handle a
job. Wesley is something else again. Until he learns how to do things he is
not much help. He is spoiled beyond belief. He knows nothing about
cleaning."

"He'll learn," Grandmom said. "You did."

"Since we're the only ones here, Douglas, maybe we can talk a little about
Wesley. Is it ok for him to be here?" Granddad asked. "I don't mean we
would toss him out into the cold, but if his being here is a problem, he
will have to find another solution."

"I guess I knew that," I answered, "and if I had seen anything out of him
which got my dander up, he would know it. Strange as it may seem, I think
his being here may prove to be something we all appreciate. At the same
time, I hope he might come to appreciate us, and I mean more than as a
source of a roof over his head and food in his belly. I think we have a lot
we can teach him if he's willing to learn. He has had a good taste of his
parents' prejudice and I think is learning a very painful lesson about
treating people poorly because of some sense of being superior. So I have
no problem with his being here."

"And his being gay?" Grandmom asked.

"No problem at all, none at all for me--or Jason," I answered. "'Course if
he decides to hit on one of us there could be a problem, but I don't think
that will happen and, if it does, I assure you Jason and I or either one of
us is capable of handling it."

"What do you think, Douglas? Do you think he was born gay, chose the gay
lifestyle or somebody turned him gay?" Granddad asked.

I suddenly realized there was a way to talk to Granddad about being gay
without telling him I was. Yeah, I think we all might very well appreciate
Wesley living with us!

"Born gay," I answered without hesitating. "I think that all gay men--and
boys--are born gay if straight men are born straight. Don't think that is a
question until sometime after we get born, but I think before someone asks
the question or is asked, a person is straight or gay. I mean, look at what
Wesley has gone through. You think anyone would choose that? Why would
anyone choose something which caused them the problems being openly gay
causes?"

"Made gay? I can't imagine how you'd even go about that. I don't know, but
I have read that men in prison who engage in man-to-man sex, but who are
not gay, have straight sex when it is possible, when they get out. Lot I
don't know about being gay, but I'm convinced it's not a matter of choice
or upbringing."

"Pretty long speech there, Grandson," Grandmom said with a question in her
voice.

"Well, I had a gay friend and I wanted to know why he was that way, so I've
looked up quite a few references about it." I answered quickly, and
truthfully.

I had finished eating and was taking my dishes to the sink when I heard a
lot of stomping on the back porch. When it stopped, the four guys came into
the kitchen, Jason and Wesley each carrying two rabbits. "I guess you want
Wesley to dress the rabbits," Jason laughed as he put his two rabbits on
newspapers Grandmom had quickly spread on the kitchen table.

"Whose are those?" Granddad asked, pointing to the two rabbits Wesley put
on the newspapers.

"All four belong here," Hank said. "We left mine--and one Jonathan got--at
our place." As Hank spoke, he reached out and gave Jonathan a noogie. "Old
Jonathan took aim down that rife and showed that bunny who was boss."`

"I was afwaid that man-eating wascally wabbit would launch a vicious attack
on my fwiends," Jonathan laughed as he reminded us of a hundred Bugs Bunny
cartoons which were old to us but new to him.

"Actually, those two are Jason's and these are mine," Wesley said with more
than a little pride as he lifted two rabbits by their ears.

"He's right," Jason said. "Wesley is some shot. Don't think he has ever
killed anything other than a clay pigeon before," he laughed, "but rabbits
better keep moving when he has a rifle in his hands. Grandmom, we'll clean
the bunnies," Jason said, "as soon as we get warmed a bit."

Cleaning rabbits was new to me as it was to all of the guys except Hank and
Jason. Hank showed us how to clean them and I was surprised that I not only
cleaned one, but enjoyed the treat when Grandmom prepared rabbit for
supper.

After supper, the three of us cleaned up the kitchen, watched a TV program
with the grandparents, then went upstairs. We brushed our teeth, got
dressed--PJs and robes--and sat in the den talking about the rabbit hunting
trip, my news about the possibility of a European tour next summer and
Wesley's trip to Charlotte.

We had decided earlier we would go to Charlotte the day after Christmas,
getting there about 9:00, plenty time before Cassandra showed up. Wesley
said he had very little beyond clothes he needed or wanted to get. "My
guitar, some books, CDs and stereo is about it," he said. "Well, and my
computer and stuff. I have a new machine, great printer and all
that. Anyway, we should have no problem getting in, getting my stuff and
getting out within an hour or less."

"I guess we need to decide what to drive," I said. "I had thought about the
Jeep, but I suspect there's more stuff than it will hold. I don't think I'd
trust the farm truck on that trip. It's fine for around here where you can
be rescued quickly if it quits, but Charlotte is a bit of a trip for it."

"How about the Dennisons' van?" Jason asked. "Think they'd let us borrow
it? I'm sure it would hold everything."

"I'm sure they would, especially if Hank can go with us and drive," I
answered.

"Something else I need to think about. When are you going back to
Asheville? Before Christmas I mean," Wesley asked.

"I need to go back tomorrow," I replied. "What do you have in mind?"

"I need to do some Christmas shopping if one of you guys will loan me a few
dollars.

"Typical male," I laughed, "putting off shopping until the last minute."

"Guess we could loan you a few bucks," Jason answered. "I need to do some
shopping as well. I guess we all go to Asheville."

"You guys got the grandparents' gifts?" Wesley asked.

"As Doug said, typical male," Jason laughed. "I haven't."

"Neither have I," I added.

"Give me some time on the phone and I think I might have something all of
us can give them," Wesley said.

"Call when you like. Use the phone up here," I answered.

Wesley looked at the clock and said, "I'll call later tonight."

A few minutes later, Jason and I were in our bed, snuggled together,
exchanging wilder and wilder kisses. I guess things got hotter than
expected because Jason exploded all over me without my touching him--well,
without touching his manhood. I was all over him otherwise. His eruption
sent me over the edge as well. We made such a mess we had to get up, clean
ourselves up and change the sheets on the bed. "We be horny puppies," Jason
said as we slid back into bed where, wrapped in each other's arms, we were
soon asleep.