Date: Fri, 21 May 2010 16:41:40 EDT From: Bwstories8@aol.com Subject: Castaway Hotel: Grand Reopening - Book 6, chapters 25 - 26 Castaway Hotel -- Grand Reopening -- Book 6 by BW Copyright 2009 by billwstories Chapter 25 -- Cheers and Fears. **Author's Note:** Please read the disclaimer in Chapter 00 before you read this. Although I was still contemplating Cody's prognosis, the next day brought a new distraction. It all began when my secretary buzzed me and explained one of my sons was on the phone and wanted to speak with me. I panicked and concluded it meant something was wrong, so I took the call immediately. To my surprised, I discovered a rather excited Trey on the other end of the receiver. "Pop, you won't believe this," he began. "Do you remember that contest my teacher entered me in last year? The one where she submitted my script about the World War II soldiers." "Yes, Trey, I remember that quite well," I told him. "You're gonna flip when you hear this," he continued. "She got a letter today and it said I've won a state award for it. In fact, she said I got something called the Pinnacle Award for my category. She told me it meant my script was the very best, out of all of the ones they got. Then she told me it is going to be sent on to the regional competition." "That's great, Trey. I'm very proud of you!" I exclaimed. That's an extraordinary accomplishment and it will look great on your college resume, when you're ready to apply. I am so proud of you. This is really outstanding." I could almost see and hear him blush through the receiver. "My teacher also said this would be announced over the school's P.A. system tomorrow morning" he informed me. "I'm not so sure about that, though. I'm worried people will think I got chosen just because I'm your son." "First of all, they've all seen the film you put together and most realize it was an extraordinary effort on your part," I explained. "Second, anyone with half a brain will realize this was a statewide competition, one in which I would have absolutely no influence. Don't worry about what the simpletons might think, because you'll be getting a lot of richly deserved praise from people who know better." "Okay, Pop, if you say so," he replied. "You know I trust your judgment. I just got a little worried." "That's okay and I understand your concern," I admitted. "You may get a little flak from a few brain-dead individuals, but you'll get more congratulations and support from the overall school community. Just do me a favor and make sure you get a copy of that letter from the teacher, so I can see it for myself. I want to be able to read all the details about what's going on." "I will, Pop, and thanks," he told me and I could tell he had much more confidence now. "Anytime, Trey. I'm extremely proud and I love you," I added. "I'll see you at home later." "Okay, Pop, and I love you too," he told me, before hanging up. This temporarily kept me from thinking about which guy was Cody's father, but I was glad to have the distraction. Just as I would have advised the boys experiencing a similar situation, 'worrying about it will not change the outcome. Therefore, it's best to wait, until we know what we actually have to deal with.' Sometimes I even heed my own advice. When Trey came home that evening, he had a copy of the letter, so I read it over, to see if there was anything specific I should be aware of. Trey's teacher had kept the copy and sent me the original, which was quite impressive in its own right. It was written on deluxe stationary, with embossed letterhead, and I decided to read it to the boys after dinner. That would give them a heads-up concerning what they'd be hearing tomorrow at school. "Boys, I want to read something to you. It's about Trey," I started. "The contents of this letter will be announced at school tomorrow, only the high school though, at least as far as I understand it. I thought it best if you knew about it in advance, since Trey is worried there might be some negative reactions to it. This way you'll be prepared to deal with such things, if Trey's concerns prove valid. I don't think they will, but forewarned is forearmed." Now, I picked up the piece of paper and began to read from it. "The Scholastic Art & Writing Award committee for the State of Pennsylvania is pleased to announce Alexander Currie has been awarded the Pinnacle Award for his screenplay and film, entitled "Brothers Beneath the Flesh." As recipient of the Pinnacle Award, his submission was judged to be the very best in the category. His work will now be forwarded to the regional award committee, to be judged at that level. The announcement of regional winners will be made in late March, with the best from each region being forwarded to the national award committee. At this time, the award committee for the State of Pennsylvania would like to congratulate this young man for his outstanding effort. A plaque signifying his accomplishment will be awarded at a banquet, to be held in Harrisburg on March 1st. Details and directions to the banquet facility will be sent under separate cover. The committee would like to extend our sincerest congratulations to all the winners, and want each of you to know the Pennsylvania Department of Education, as well as the entire state, is extremely proud of your accomplishments. A press release announcing your personal success has been prepared by our staff and forwarded to your hometown newspaper. A general article, listing all the state winners, has also been delivered to each news organization within this great state. Sincerely, The Pennsylvania Award Committee Chairperson" I think the boys were quite impressed after hearing this and immediately began to congratulate Trey for having won this award. Of course, none of them could do it without intermixing their own brand of humor with their praise, so these are the types of responses Trey heard. "Hey, Alexander, nice going," Dion began, tongue in cheek, because he knew Trey didn't like being referred to by his first name. Trey just glared at Dion for doing that. "Does this mean I'm going to get paid for being in his film now?" Sammy wanted to know, smiling as he asked his question. "This is primarily about the script," Trey advised him, so Sammy pretended to pout. "Hey, does this mean you're going to be famous?" Ricky asked, his eyes bulging from their sockets. "Am I going to be related to the next Steven Spielberg or Stephen King? "Could be," I butted in, "especially if he keeps going like he is. Who knows what might happen, if he wins at the next levels. He could come under the attention of some top film school or get offered an assistantship to some famous director or screen writer." "Wow," Andrew commented. "Can I be in one of your movies? I'm cute enough, aren't I?" We all knew Andrew was being deadly serious about this, but we still had to smirk at his innocent enthusiasm and curiosity. "Of course you're cute enough, Andrew," Trey told him, "and I'd love to have you in one of my movies, so don't let me forget it." "I won't," Andrew told him, pleased with Trey's response. "Damn, I'm so excited." All of our mouths fell open when Andrew said the word 'damn,' since I don't believe any of us had ever heard him use a word such as that before. Andrew noticed our reaction and realized what he'd said, so now he tried to make up for that mistake. "Sorry, daddy. I just got excited." I merely smiled at him and winked, to let him know all was forgiven. He smiled back at me and then looked back at Trey and grinned, before he continued, "But, damn, this IS exciting." This time all of the boys burst into hysterics. The phone rang at that precise second, interrupting the moment, and one of the boys answered it. Soon I was being called to take the call. "Hello?" I responded, as I put the receiver to my ear. "Josh, this is John Stokes," I heard. "I think I've located the other guy you were looking for. He's married, has a couple of kids and lives in western Pennsylvania. New Castle, to be precise." "That's great news!" I exclaimed. "I'll drop your bonus money off at the office tomorrow. You did a great job." After I told him that, he gave me the exact address and phone number for this guy, and from what I could gather, he was a much better prospect as a possible parent/donor for Cody. However, this news also made me wonder if he might also try to claim custody, if Cody did turn out to be his son. Now, I began to have concerns of my own. After we hung up, I called Steve, to see if he could go with me on Saturday, when I planned to approach this guy. "Hello, Steve, this is Josh," I started, clumsily. "Hi, Josh. What's up?" "I just got a call from the P.I. and he said he's located the other guy," I informed him. "Do you think you could go with me this Saturday, to talk to him? He lives almost on the Pennsylvania-Ohio border." "Give me a second to check my calendar." There was a brief pause, as I heard Steve jostling through some papers. "Yes, I don't see anything important scheduled. I'll also check with Mary, but I'm sure she'll be okay with it too. By the way, I heard the technician got the blood sample and it has been sent to the lab for DNA testing, along with Cody's sample." "That's fantastic!" I agreed. "I just hope the results of the DNA tests are just as pleasant for me to hear. I really pray the pimp isn't Cody's father." "I understand exactly and I'll second your prayer request," Steve confirmed. "If he is the father, it would be another rotten break for Cody and I think he has enough to deal with right now." "That's precisely how I see it," I concurred. "Thanks Steve, you truly are the best friend a guy could have." After I got off the phone with Steve, I told Jake about our plans. I also asked him to keep Cody busy that day, so he wouldn't have time to think about any of this. Jake told me he'd take care of it and then wished me luck, because he knew how deeply I felt about protecting Cody from any more pain. I certainly was lucky to have found this terrific guy, or more precisely that the boys were smart enough to hook us up. He has been great for me and equally magnificent with the boys, and I thought it was a stroke of immense luck that such a patient, understanding and affectionate lover had wandered into my life. He also turned out to be a great second-dad to all the boys, while giving me another fantastic son in return. The next day was very interesting. Even though I wasn't at the high school when the announcement was made, I received an inundation of responses concerning it, after the fact. From what I heard, the announcement went something like this. "I am pleased to make the following announcement," the principal began. "As most of you already know, last year one of our students, Trey Currie, wrote a screenplay and made a film. We were all fortunate enough to be able to view the film, but the efforts to bring him recognition for his work did not stop there. "Realizing how truly remarkable Trey's talent is, one of his teachers submitted his screenplay to the Scholastic Art & Writing Award program. I am now pleased to announce that Trey's work has been singled out for special recognition and his script was named the Pennsylvania State Pinnacle Award winner for the category. This means his work was judged to be the very best of all those entered and his script will be forwarded to the regional competition. I would encourage all of you to congratulate Trey on his achievement and wish him well at the next level." I heard Trey's homeroom went wild, once the announcement ended. The students whooped it up and hollered congratulations to Trey. He said many of his classmates shook his hand, slapped him on the back or gave him a high-five to emphasize their approval. Dion reported a similar, but more subdued response in his homeroom, as everyone told him how pleased they were for his brother. The other high school boys reported similar responses in each of their homerooms too, so for the most part this went quite well. Trey did tell me in private that he also received a couple of less than enthusiastic responses too. He showed me a note that read simply, 'The faggot can write. Big deal.' The other was a verbal comment, where someone behind him said, "How much did that cost daddy?" Trey did report the vast majority of the student body was very positive and encouraged him, telling him things like, "You earned this honor," or "You did a great job." Once Trey finished, I informed him that after the announcement was made my office was deluged with congratulatory phone calls, from administrators, faculty and staff. Most stated they just wanted to let me know how pleased they were over Trey's success, but many also mentioned how important such an honor was for the entire school district. They felt this would gain our educational system statewide recognition and alert institutions of higher learning that we were more than just a backwoods, country school district. In addition to their praise, the callers also expressed their hopes that Trey would fare well at the next level of competition. Many stated their belief his script was good enough for him to go all the way to the nationals. I told Trey many of those messages came from his former teachers and they expressed a sincere and deep faith in his ability, before also letting me know this ability has been lying dormant all along. Most mentioned they had seen flashes of this brilliance when they had him in class, but were never able to come up with a challenge adequate to draw the ability out. They also voiced their confidence that Trey would continue to shine academically, as well as in this competition. Later, I received a call from a staff writer with the local newspaper. He was requesting permission to interview both Trey and I personally, for a special interest article he wanted to do for the Sunday supplement. I agreed to have him come to the office the next afternoon, after classes had ended for the day, and assured him Trey would be there as well. He thanked me for our cooperation, and reiterated he'd see us the following afternoon. I also had a phone call from the local cable company. If you'd forgotten, they had helped Trey produce the film in the first place and now they offered to broadcast it on their public access channel again. They also wanted to do a video interview featuring the two of us and indicated they would air it right before they reran Trey's film, if that would meet with our approval. I replied that I would have to check with Trey first, but I suspected he wouldn't mind either the interview or their rerunning his film. The person calling thanked me for our cooperation and then passed along the station's congratulations as well. Before we hung up, I tentatively set the interview to begin a half hour after I suspected the newspaper interview would end, but I would call them back to confirm the appointment later. The interview would be conducted at their studio, to make it easier for them to tape. Once again, the entire family was impressed and overwhelmed by the support of the entire community. We were even being stopped on the street, in stores and at public events, as people told us how exciting it was that one of our own was doing so well. They told us Trey's success helped put our small community on the map, so to speak, and gave us all a modicum of special recognition. They were also impressed by the fact that our small school district had helped to produce a talent of this significance, one that ranked among the best in the entire state. They said they loved it when friends or relatives living in other areas got in touch to tell them how they had heard someone from our area had been mentioned in their own local newspaper. It was a thrilling time for us all. Castaway Hotel -- Grand Reopening -- Book 6 by BW Copyright 2009 by billwstories Chapter 26 -- A Ray of Hope. As we approached the end of the month, the tremendous amount of individual recognition Trey received began to wane. As this happened, my focus shifted back to Cody. This shift began after I came home one afternoon and discovered a letter from the Genelex Corporation. I knew at once this was the laboratory the blood samples had been sent for DNA testing and I suddenly felt a little dizzy and light-headed. It was obviously the report specifying whether Cody's mother's pimp was also his father. I tore the envelope open, wishing to end the agonizing suspense as quickly as I could. I needed to learn the truth about his parentage. Excited, yet nervous, I began to read. "The samples you provided were run through the Genelex testing procedures and it has been determined that there is 0% chance that donor A is the father of donor B. These results were verified, using a secondary testing procedure." Damn. It worked. That piece of garbage isn't Cody's father. I was very relieved. I phoned Steve immediately, not only to tell him the good news, but to also ask him to draft a letter to the creep, telling him there would be no more money coming his way. Now, I just had to hope this other guy was a perfect match and would agree to donate merely for Cody's sake. Whether I wanted it this way or not, all of our eggs were now in one basket. As Saturday morning neared, I grew more and more nervous. I didn't want to call this guy to arrange a time to meet him first, because I didn't want to spook or give him an indication something might be wrong. I felt it would be best if I just confronted him out of the blue. For those reasons, we were just going to drive to his residence and take a chance we'd find him home on a Saturday. We'd also be taking a risk he'd be willing to speak with us. I don't usually go off half-cocked like this and not have a more detailed plan, but in this case I felt it would be a calculated gamble we'd have to take. Since Steve agreed with my reasoning, it gave credence to my plan and eased my paranoia. It was a long drive, or at least it seemed that way, primarily because I was so nervous about this meeting. I couldn't stop wondering if this visit would go any better than the one with the pimp, but I had no way to predict it. I was hopeful that once we proved this guy was Cody's father, I would be able to get him to accept his responsibility and do what was best for his son. I also felt it would be an easier pill for Cody to swallow if this man was his father, rather than the pimp. >From the information the investigator had gathered for me, this guy seemed to be an upstanding citizen, with a family of his own. I was told he had a decent job, no criminal record and was well respected in the community. It sounded good and I was encouraged. Once we verified he was Cody's father, I was planning to tell Cody this guy was never told Cody's mother was pregnant, let alone that he had a son and Cody existed. I was counting on the ignorance factor to be my ace in the hole, proving to Cody that his biological father never actually rejected him or shunned his role as a father. The reason he hadn't been there for Cody was due to the fact that he just never knew he was a dad. Following the maps I'd printed off the Internet, I quickly found his street, which was located in a very nice neighborhood. The house was probably twenty or thirty years old, but it was very well maintained. Seeing his current situation, I began to wonder how this guy had gotten hooked up with a prostitute in the first place. I parked along the curb and we watched the house for a brief time, to determine if there was any indication that someone was home. After noticing movement inside, I decide it was time to see if he was there. Nervously, I walked up to his house alone. I did this in case his wife or children were also there, since I didn't want to create a problem or piss him off. If I did, I knew he would be less likely to help us. I figured if his family was home, I'd ask him to go with us for coffee or something, but if not, then I'd just wave to Steve and let him know he could join us. I was now standing in front of his door, ready to ring the doorbell, but I just couldn't get my body to cooperate. I was a mass of nerves and filled with trepidation. My hand was shaking like a leaf in a strong breeze and I more nervous than a virgin on her wedding night. Realizing how important this was, I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. Slowly, I began to overcome these strong emotions and was able to lift my index finger upward, until it made contact with the button. As I pressed it, I heard the chimes go off inside the house. Soon, a small, blond-haired boy, about 8 or 9 years old, opened the door. "Hello, is your father home?" I asked. "Yeah, just a second," he told me. "Daaaaaaaad," he screamed, as he walked away from the door. He left it open, with me standing there alone. "It's for you," I heard him continue, as he disappeared from sight. After a few seconds, a good-looking guy in his early thirties walked up to the door. "Hello. May I help you?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously. "I hope you may, but I think we need to discuss this in private," I responded in a whisper, while peering over his shoulder to see if anyone else was approaching. I didn't want to be overheard and hoped he got my drift. "In regards to what?" he countered, suspiciously, while still keeping his voice down. It was obvious he was unwilling to take me at face value. "About something it's better for little ears not to overhear," I answered, hoping this time he'd get my meaning. After hearing my last comment, he glanced quickly over his own shoulder, before he stepped out on the doorstep and pulled the door shut behind him. It seemed he had finally caught on to the fact this was a delicate matter that needed his undivided attention. He glared at me, before he spoke. "Now what's this about?" he asked softly, but quite firmly. "Do you remember a Marianne Reynolds?" I asked, in a low tone. He quickly looked over his shoulder again and eyed the door, to make sure it was still closed. When he looked back in my direction, I could read the panic in his eyes. Beads of perspiration were also beginning to appear on his forehead as he opened his mouth. "I… I don't know," he stammered. "I… well, maybe it's… a… a possibility." "Don't you agree it would be better if we continued this conversation somewhere else?" I suggested. "There's a lot to explore, concerning this topic?" He scanned nervously over his shoulder yet again, to make certain the door hadn't opened in the past few seconds. "But what shall I tell my wife?" he wondered. "You could tell her an old friend, high school teacher or college professor looked you up and wants to take you out for a drink," I suggested. "That won't work," he countered. "She'd want me to invite you in. so she could meet you too." "Where do you work?" I asked, trying to think up a new strategy. "I'm vice-president of a bank," he responded. "Could you tell her we just notified you of a problem concerning the bank and you have to go with us, to check it out?" I suggested. "I don't think that would work either," he mumbled. "First of all, I'm not the one who would respond to those types of situations, and when there is a problem I need to handle, someone would phone me at home, not show up at my door." "Can't you think of anything that WOULD work?" I pleaded. "Not really," he told me, looking nervous. "I'm not the type of guy who has problems pop up like this, at least until now." "Okay, how about this?" I offered, while praying my next idea might work. "We'll leave and drive down the street and take the first right we come to. We'll stop and wait for you there. You can drive down to meet us in a few minutes and then we'll follow you to a place you choose, where we can talk." "But what will I say if my wife asks who you were and what you wanted?" he pressed, still not convinced this would work. "Tell her we were Jehovah's Witnesses or a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints, hoping to convert you and your family to our religion," I recommended, thinking situations like that often arise in nice neighborhoods. "But don't they generally give you a hand out before they leave?" he challenged. "Yes, but tell her you were adamant that you didn't want any," I told him, hoping he'd find it acceptable. "Okay, that might work," he agreed, hesitantly, "but then how am I going to get out of the house to meet you? What excuse shall I use?" "Tell her you need to pick something up, check something out or that you're going to watch one of the college basketball games at your local hangout. Do I have to do all of your thinking for you?" I know I was a bit sarcastic, but I was desperate and my eyes were pleading with him. "Hmmm, let me think," he replied, while taking up my challenge. "Well, the kids have been asking me to get a new mouse for the computer. The old one has been acting up." "Great, then tell her that's what you're going to do," I agreed, eagerly. "Okay, but I hope she or the boys don't want to go with me," he replied, concerned. "Just think of an excuse why they can't go or don't give them time to ask," I indicated. "We need to do this quickly. It's very urgent." "Okay, I'll join you shortly," he agreed. I went back to the car, got in and drove down the street. When I came to the first street where I could make a right turn, I took it and then stopped and waited for him to show up. It wasn't long before he pulled up, signaled for us to follow and then we slowly made our way out of his development. He eventually led us to a small bar, so we went in and ordered drinks. We carried them to a secluded table in the far corner, where we could talk without interruption or fear of being overheard. Once I thought he was comfortable, I broached the subject again. "So, do you remember Marianne Reynolds?" I asked. "I think you already know the answer to that," he shot back. "It's a name from my past, the very distant past. I was in college then and needed an occasional sexual outlet, without any strings or commitments that would interfere with my studies or my future. That's how I met her, but why are you here and bringing this up now?" "It's a long story, but let it suffice that you and she are involved in something that also affects me," I explained. "There is also another person connected to this matter, someone whom you have never met." "And whom might that be?" he wondered. "Her son… and possibly yours too." His mouth dropped open after I said this and then a shocked and horrified expression spread across his face. "Oh, shit. That can't be true," he mumbled. "She never said anything, so I never knew. Why would she wait until now to bring this up?" He thought for a moment and then continued. "Wait! She was a hooker, so how could she be sure the child is mine?" "I don't have an answer for that, but she did leave the names of those she thought might possibly be the father," I told him. "The others have already been eliminated, so now your name is the only one left in the hat." "No, this can't be happening," he stated, in disbelief. "I'm happily married, have two sons of my own and I don't need this now. It could destroy my marriage." "Well, it doesn't have to get blown out of proportion," I told him, soothingly. "All we are asking is that you allow some blood to be taken, so it can be sent to a lab for a DNA comparison. It's that simple." "And if it turns out this kid is mine?" he wondered. "I suppose Marianne will then sue me for child support. Once that happens, my wife will find out and my whole world will come crashing down. My wife will probably take my sons and leave, and then I'll end up paying child support for three kids, none of whom will ever want to see me again." "No, that's not how it will play out," I countered, adamantly. "Let me fill you in about a few things." I paused briefly and took a deep breath before I continued. "Marianne has passed away and her son lives with me. We don't want any money from you and your wife doesn't ever have to find out about any of this," I assured him. "The reason we need to know whether you're his father is because he has leukemia and needs a blood and bone marrow donation. The doctor says a related donor would work best and provide the greatest chance for him to get healthy again. If you are the boy's father, all we'd ask is that you donate the blood and bone marrow he needs, to increase the likelihood of his survival." "Oh, God, I'm so sorry I was so insensitive about this earlier," he apologized. "Is he going to be all right? I hope so and I'll certainly cooperate, as long as everything is done discretely. I know I'd want the same consideration for one of my sons and, well, he just MIGHT be my son." "This is my friend and lawyer, Steven Shay," I told him, "and he has drawn up an agreement for you to sign. All it states is you are willing to allow the DNA testing to be performed, to determine if the boy is your son. If the match is within acceptable limits, it states you will then agree to donate blood and bone marrow cells to help him. It also stipulates you are willing to sign off on your parental rights, so I might adopt him. Will any of this be a problem?" He thought about it for a few seconds, before he replied. "No, in fact it would get me off the hook concerning my own situation, but I can't have the blood taken locally. Word might get back to her." "You're not very far from Pittsburgh," I pointed out, "so I could arrange to have everything done there, if that would be better for you." "Yes, it would," he agreed, looking more relaxed now. "Okay, set it up and let me know when you need me there. I'll take some time off from work and think up some excuse to tell my wife. Thank you for not blurting this out in front of her or the kids. That would have been devastating, especially if she found out I might also have impregnated a prostitute." "It was the least I could do, as long as you are willing to help my future son," I reasoned. The guy smiled at me and I could tell it was because he was appreciative of the fact that I was going to take care of this child, even if it turned out Cody was his son. He signed the contract willingly and we grabbed a total stranger to serve as a witness. Once everything was formalized, we left and went our separate way, but not before he gave me the information I'd need to contact him later. As we drove off, we each had what we needed. This guy's secret was still intact and I had a man willing to be tested, to see if he could donate cells to Cody. All in all, it was a good day. On the way back, Steve and I took a detour through Pittsburgh, so I could make the arrangements for his blood to be tested and for the possible harvesting of cells later. When everything was completed, we took off for home, more optimistic about Cody's future. I have to admit I breathed a sigh of relief as we drove out of the 'Steel City,' but I also understood Cody wasn't out of the woods yet. We still had to hope this guy was an acceptable match, so we could go forward with the donation process. We got back late that evening, because we had spent most of the day on the road. I thanked Steve, yet again, for all his help and he merely smiled and told me he'd add it to my I.O.U. I told him it must be about equal to the national debt by now, which caused him to chuckle. He then got out of the car and I watched as he strode toward his front door. Damn, how would I ever repay him for everything he has done for my boys and me? Since if was so late, I waited until the next day to call the guy and give him the information he needed. Once he had copied everything down, I thanked him, once more, for his cooperation. In a whisper, he reiterated his stance about hoping someone would have gone to the same extremes to help his own sons, if they were in a similar situation. Now that everything was set, I told him I'd notify him once I got the results back, to let him know if a donation was possible. He indicated that if Cody did turn out to be his son, he might like to meet him, without Cody knowing whom he really was. He said this would just be to satisfy his curiosity and let him see what he had missed out on. I told him that would be fine and he could come to our house, or we could visit him, whenever it was convenient. I said I'd introduce him as the son of a friend and no one would ever question that explanation. He then thanked me for being willing to do this for him, but I reminded him I was doing it for Cody. I just tried to make it simple for him and not create unnecessary problems. I also told him that until the test results were back, we wouldn't need to contact each other further. I thought telling him this would be best, in case he worried Cody or I might become a reoccurring distraction. I think hearing me say this gave him a little peace of mind as well. Now, we just had to wait and see what the tests showed. E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive' comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com - but please put the story title in the subject line, so it doesn't get deleted as junk mail.