Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2004 05:01:02 -0700 From: Mike Subject: A Thousand Rainbows 10 Welcome back. And a big THANKYEW for all your comments about Chapter 9. I'm sure we heard the last of Alan Bradley, but that part of the story will have to wait for another day. For the moment let's return to the present and the aftermath of the Bridgewater-Franklin football game, which had a profound impact on everyone. So today I offer a triple treat in chapters 10 through 12. In Chapter 10 Bjorn has a chance to reflect on the events of the day, and he'll meet a new friend. Chapter 11 will bring another deep conversation with the family and a rehash of the game, seen through the eyes of the late evening news. And in Chapter 12 Brian and Bjorn spend some quality time together. This story deals with adult themes, primarily same-gender sexual relations. Such relations have their basis in love and commitment, rather than sex for the sake of sex alone. In some cases they will use protection; at other times they will not. You and I should always use protection because we do not live in the world of fiction. If you are offended the idea of homosexuality or if you are under the age of consent or if you reside in an area where such things are considered illegal or immoral, then you should seek entertainment elsewhere. Comments may be directed to the author at thornado5@netscape.net This story is copyright 2004 by Mike Williams. All rights reserved. Thou shalt not steal. -0- A Thousand Rainbows by Mike Williams - 10 - After leaving Mustang Field they drove straight to their studio where Bjorn would develop their rolls of film. It would be a rush job if the pictures were to be of any use to the media and the police. Bjorn leaned across the minivan for a kiss from his partner. "I love you, Brian." Then he turned to the twins seated behind him. "And I love you guys too." Not the light-hearted sound usually heard in the family, Bjorn's words were serious, a statement of undeniable fact. The boys could read a loving smile in his eyes, even though his expression was somber. He turned back to Brian. "Will you be alright?" "Yeah, we'll be fine. How about you?" Brian replied; Bjorn only nodded. "Call me when you're ready to come home." "I will." And Bjorn was out of the vehicle. He let himself in by the side entrance and went straight to work in the darkroom. He hadn't been ten minutes into the processing when the telephone rang. The police usually turned to Brian and Bjorn when they needed photos of important cases, knowing that either of them would have a camera at the scene of any community activity. Bjorn recognized the voice as that of Sgt. Chuck Engel, a veteran of the Sheriff's Office who worked closely with the District Attorney's office. "I should have the prints ready in about an hour, Chuck. Tell the deputy to come to the side door. Always glad to help." He ended the call and went back to work. But the images of Alan Bradley and Paul Miller ... both on film and in his mind ... made it difficult to concentrate. Twice he heard the chime of the processing timer and had to shake himself back to reality. As he hung the prints to dry, Bjorn saw that he had captured the violence of the afternoon's events with unmistakable clarity. The telephoto lens had allowed him an up-close view that only those closest to the action would have seen. It turned his stomach to see such a display of anger. As a freelance photographer, it was his job to be where the opportunities were. He had seen his share of gore; it was a hazard that came with the job. But he had resolved long ago that he would never let it get to the point that he felt nothing over it. Even if he got used to it, he would always feel something. The doorbell rang just as he was taking the prints from the drying rack. Bjorn switched on the lights and walked down the hall to open the door for the detective. It was a Bridgewater sheriff's deputy, one whom Bjorn didn't recognize, but who appeared young enough that he must have just recently graduated from the police academy. Bjorn guessed he was in his mid 20's, with close-cropped brown hair and deep brown eyes. "Uh, Mr. Larkin?" he stammered. "I'm Deputy Sean Ludwig, Bridgewater Sheriff's Office. Sgt. Engel asked me to come by and pick up some photographs for a case he's working on." Bjorn offered his hand and invited the officer inside. "Come in, Deputy. I'm just about finished." And he led the way back to the darkroom. "I don't recall meeting you before. You new to the area?" "Yes, sir," the officer replied. "Just joined the department last month. Moved here from Southern California." "Well, I think you'll find Bridgewater a nice friendly town," Bjorn said. "But what would make you choose this little wide spot in the road?" Sean thought about it for a moment. "Well, I did hear there's good hunting and fishing around here. My dad and I used to come up here on fishing trips when I was a kid. I caught my first fish in Lake Monroe, and I've wanted to come back ever since then." "Funny you should mention Lake Monroe," Bjorn mused. "We take our kids camping there every summer. We're terrible fishermen, so you could probably teach us a thing or two. Mostly we go there for the peace and quiet." "You and your wife?" Sean inquired. "Me and my boyfriend," Bjorn replied matter-of-factly. "We're a committed couple. We've been together since high school." Sean hung his head for a moment, then looked up at Bjorn. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pry, but I had to be sure." "Not a problem; our relationship is no secret." Bjorn regarded the deputy for a moment, then smiled. "Sgt. Engel didn't send you to pick up these photos. Did he ... Deputy?" "It's Sean ... and I volunteered to pick them up ... sir," Sean returned the smile. "It's Bjorn. I know Sgt. Engel doesn't approve of our lifestyle, but it's none of his business," Bjorn said as he gathered the photographs. "So what's the real reason you chose Bridgewater?" Sean sighed and looked off into space. "Good relationship gone bad. I met a terrific guy while I was at the academy. We got our first assignments in adjoining towns, and moved in together. But he had a job on the side, selling dope. Undercover officers were making buys right in our living room. Then one night the narc squad busted the door down right in the middle of a romantic candle-lit dinner ... outed and busted at the same time." "I'm sorry," Bjorn sympathized. "I was cleared by Internal Affairs," Sean continued. "But the department and the police union agreed that a gay cop ... with close ties to a convicted drug dealer ... wouldn't look good. So they urged me to seek employment elsewhere. No pressure. Actually, they were all very supportive through the whole thing, and there's no black mark on my record. So I guess I'm in Bridgewater to pick up the pieces and start over again. Forget about love for a while. But I meant what I said about the hunting and fishing too." "Don't give up so easily, Sean. Maybe you'll meet the man of your dreams right here in Bridgewater." Bjorn said. "Now, here's the photos for Sgt. Engel. There are two envelopes, the first with the shots of the Franklin coach assaulting the quarterback. Have you heard how the kid's doing?" Sean sighed. "No word from the hospital yet. Last report I got said they just rushed him into surgery. What's in the second envelope?" "Oh, the other envelope contains pictures of some Franklin fullback assaulting the Bridgewater quarterback Paul Miller at the end of the game. That's just in case someone wants to press charges." Bjorn was silent for a moment. "Christ, it's just a game." Sean was quick to console Bjorn. "One really important lesson we learn in cop school is that a cartoon is the only place where you can drop an anvil on someone's head, and they'll just get up and walk away. Between the terrorists on one side and the wackos on the other, we've got to keep our guard up. And we have to prepare ourselves and our young people to witness things no one should have to see, in spite of everything we see in the movies and on TV. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it. But, as a police officer, I can assure you: If a crime has been committed, we'll get him." "Our kids ... Brian and I have two boys ... twins ... they really admire Paul. We didn't have a chance to talk about it after the game. But it's important to them ... and to us, as parents ... that bullies don't get away with shit like that." Bjorn's eyes misted over. "Well, I've taken enough of your time, Sean. I'm sure Sgt. Engel is expecting you back with the photos. Got any plans for Thanksgiving?" "If I'm not on duty, it'll be a microwave turkey dinner in front of the TV, watching a football game." "Oh, wrong answer, man. If you're not on duty, you'll be at our house for turkey dinner with all the trimmings, Brian's world-famous apple pie, football game on TV and a concert by two of Bridgewater's finest up-and-coming composers." "How could I refuse?" Sean's face broke into a wide grin. "Thank you, Bjorn ... for everything. I'm looking forward to meeting your family." "Oh, almost forgot ... we'll also be dining with the boys' mother. She and her husband and their son are coming up from San Diego for a little vacation. It'll be a full house, so consider yourself warned. I think you'll find this family just a little unconventional." Bjorn offered his hand again to the officer as they left the darkroom and walked to the door. "Unconventional sounds good. Thanks again, Bjorn." Sean paused, "If you don't mind my asking, how did your parents come by that name?" "Long story, but I'll be sure to put that on the menu too. Take care, Sean." Bjorn smiled as he let the policeman out and walked back to his office to call home. -0- to be continued in Chapter 11