Date: Fri, 3 Aug 2012 21:44:11 -0700 From: B.E. Kelley Subject: The Foundling Chapter 3 This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization. This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further. Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com The Foundling Chapter 3: A Storm is Coming It was late November, Thanksgiving would be here in a week and most of my classmates had already left for the holiday break. Fall is a special time in New England and as I stood outside my dorm, waiting for my dad, I took in all of the splendor that western Connecticut had to offer. Dad was running a little late but I figured that was just the holiday traffic. I got tired of waiting in my room so I grabbed my bag and sat out on the front steps of my dorm, letting the chill in the late fall air color my cheeks. I hated to admit it but dad was right, I wouldn't have come home now had he begged me. I'd grown up in New York City and had become so accustomed to the canyons of glass and steel that I'd forgotten how nice it was to be in the fresh air. Not to mention, Choate offered me a wide variety of classes and programs to take advantage of. I still missed dad, missed him all the time, but I had plenty of things to take my mind off of it. Dad was busy too; he'd been traveling between New York and Berlin for the past month, working on some big merger between an American company and a German conglomerate. He sounded tired when I talked to him the night before, but also excited for our trip. Ever since my grandfather died, dad and I made an annual trip to Tyson's Corner, the weekend before Thanksgiving. Tyson's Corner is a small town, in northern New Hampshire, that was settled by my ancestors in the late 1800's, hence the name. It was about that time that my great, great grandfather had taken a small mill and turned it into Tyson Wire and Cable. The company has been in my family ever since, but when my grandfather passed away, ownership passed to my father, who had no interest in running it. Dad had set out on his own and established himself as a successful investment banker; he had no desire to return to New Hampshire. Instead, he hired a managing director and allowed him to run the company, with any major decisions subject to dad's approval. Dad still had to make the occasional trip to Tyson's Corner, to sign papers or approve various improvements to the factory, but this trip, the trip he and I were taking, it was special, just for us. My grandfather and generations of Tyson's, aren't the only ones buried in the church yard at the First Episcopal Church, my mother is there too. My mom and dad met in college, he was studying business and she music. Dad says he never looked at another woman after he met her and they were married the summer they graduated. While dad was working his way up the corporate ladder, my mom found a place in the New York Metropolitan Orchestra, as their accompanying pianist. Eventually both of them began to feel the yearning to start a family but after several unsuccessful attempts that ended in miscarriage, they gave up. It looked as if they weren't meant to have a child but as often happens, when they stopped trying to get pregnant, they got pregnant. Both of my parents were nervous about the pregnancy, given their history, but I was born healthy, with all my fingers and toes, and they were happy. Life was good; my mom gave up her career to raise me and gloried in teaching me to play the piano, at 5 years old, I was her best student. All of that happiness came crashing down around us, as we traveled to Tyson's Corner to celebrate Thanksgiving with my grandfather. An early winter storm hit New England and we were caught in the middle of it. Dad lost control of the car in the heavy snow, and plowed right into a tree. Dad and I were fine, mom didn't make it. My mom was Danish, she had planned to return to Denmark after college, but the plans changed when she fell in love with my dad. Like my father, my mom was an only child and her parents had died before I was born, as a result, dad decided to have her buried in Tyson's Corner where she would at least be among our family. Five years later, my beloved grandfather died of a stroke and so it came to be that dad and I would make this trip every year, to pay our respects to our dearly departed. You might think that this would put a rather macabre spin on Thanksgiving, but it wasn't like that. There was a lot of love in our family and this trip helped me bond with my father. We'd both suffered some terrible losses but we shared those losses together and because of that, we weren't alone with our pain. I recognized my dad's black BMW SUV the moment he pulled up, he really didn't need to honk the horn. I ran over to the car and nearly tackled him as he was stepping out; I was so happy to see him and couldn't wait to hug him. He looked a little different, I was sure he was tired from all the travel he was doing and it was nice not to see him in a suit for a change. "I missed you dad," I stated, while giving him a bear hug. "I missed you to Tiger, you ready to go or do you want to change first?" he asked. "Oh, I almost forgot," I blushed. I had been so excited to see dad that I hadn't even bothered to change out of my school uniform when classes ended. I threw my bag in the backseat, took off my coat so that I could toss my blazer and tie in the car. I climbed into the passenger seat, buckled up and we were on our way. Dad was just as excited to see me as I was to see him and we talked, non-stop, through Connecticut and Massachusetts. It started to get dark as we approached the New Hampshire boarder, both from the setting of the sun and the clouds rolling in. Ever since the accident that resulted in my mother's death, my dad has been nervous about driving in bad weather, he tuned in to a weather broadcast and we learned that a nor'easter was making its way up the eastern seaboard. The storm would hit around our expected arrival time in Tyson's Corner. The car got quiet and I could hear the wind whistling through the trees even as we sped down the highway. Dad slowed way down and concentrated on his driving; I relaxed in my set and eventually fell asleep. When I woke up, we were in the parking lot of a diner, snow was falling but it was still the beginning of the storm, it would get much worse. "Where are we?" I yawned. "A couple miles from Tyson's Corner," said Dad, "I thought we should stop and get something to eat." "Cool, I'm starved," I agreed. `Pop's' was a typical New England diner, we'd eaten here before and the food was always really good. They specialized in comfort food and that would be the perfect thing for a cold night like this. There were only a few other diner's and a guy sitting at the bar drinking beer, I guess most people knew better then to be out in weather like this. I ordered turkey and mashed potatoes and a steaming cup of hot chocolate, dad had the meatloaf and we picked up our conversation where we had left off in the car. "So how do you like Coach Maxwell?" asked Dad. "He's alright, he makes us run for miles though," I complained. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that the point of cross country?" Dad chuckled. "Sure, but not at every practice," I laughed. "Well, he says you had a great season, that you really improved by the end," said Dad. "You talked to him?" I asked. "Sure, I get updates from all of your teachers," Dad explained. "Oh, I didn't know that," I replied. "Just because I'm not there doesn't mean I don't want to know what's going on, someone's got to keep an eye on you," Dad winked. "Yeah, you know me, nothing but trouble," I shot back. Dad laughed at my sarcasm before pressing on. "Speaking of trouble, you got a C on your algebra test a few weeks ago?" said Dad. "Ugh, I'm just not any good at math," I huffed. "No, you just don't like math," Dad retorted, "I know you can do it if you try hard." "I do try," I grumped. "I know you do, and I'm not coming down on you, I just want you to remember that you can do it," said Dad, "you don't want to wreck your GPA by being lazy, right?" "No, you're right, I just don't like it," I admitted. "How did your piano recital go?" said Dad, changing the topic to something I was interested in talking about. "It was great," I smiled, I'd done a really good job, "They asked me to play in the Christmas Concert." "That's fantastic, you know son, your mom would be so proud of you," Dad smiled, while reaching over to pat my hand. "I-I want her to be proud of me," I sort of mumbled. That touching father son moment was drowned out by the drunk at the bar. He'd been muttering at the waitress all evening but she'd managed to ignore him; that is until now. "Hey Gladys, when does your fine ass take a break, I wanna introduce you to Mr. Thick Dick," said the drunk. "I don't think so Joe," said Gladys. "Come on bitch, don't be such a fuckin cock-tease," said Joe. "Ok that's it," Dad muttered, before standing and walking to the bar. "Hey buddy why don't I take care of your tab so you can get home before the storm really picks up," said Dad, to Joe the drunk. "No thanks mister," slurred Joe. "Please I insist," said Dad, pulling out his wallet. "How about you take that wallet and shove it up your ass, huh? How about that?" said Joe. "Look, people are just trying to enjoy their dinner, they don't want to hear your mouth, I think it's time you left," said Dad. "Fuck you and all these other mother fuckers," said Joe. "Come on Joe, he's right, it's time for you to leave," said Gladys, putting her hand on his arm. "I'm not going anywhere bitch," said Joe, as he shoved Gladys away, causing her to crash into a wall. "Hey," Dad exclaimed, than reached for Joe as if to throw him out. "What are you gonna do about it mother fucker?" Joe shouted, rising to his feet. "That's enough God damn it," shouted, the diner's owner, inserting himself between my dad and the drunk. "Mind your business Jerry," Joe threatened. "This is my place and I'm sick and tired of you coming in here, getting wasted and scaring off my customers, you get the hell out," said Jerry. Joe looked like he was going to object but Jerry was a big man and even drunk; Joe realized that he didn't want to pick a fight with the diner owner. "This is your lucky day city boy," said Joe, as he bumped my dad with his shoulder and stormed out. "I'm really sorry about that mister," said Jerry, guiding my dad back to our table, "I should have kicked him out an hour ago." "It's alright, I just thought the waitress had put up with enough," said Dad. Jerry clapped my dad on the shoulder then Gladys showed up and placed a piece of pumpkin pie in front of each of us. "Oh, we didn't order dessert," said Dad. "It's on the house," smiled Gladys, "thank you." Dad blushed and Gladys went back to the kitchen, I starred at dad, dumbfounded. "What?" asked Dad. "I can't believe you did that!" I exclaimed. "He was being rude," said Dad. "Yeah but he was going to hit you," I replied. "Well then I would have hit him back," said Dad. "Oh, so I'm not supposed to get in fights but you can?" I asked. "Benji, you've never been in a fight in your life," said Dad, "and that man was being incredibly rude to the waitress and everyone else, it was time for him to go home." "But weren't you scared?" I asked. "Of course, but you shouldn't let your fear stop you from doing what you know to be right," said Dad. I was still surprised that dad had done that. You hear language like that in New York and it goes pretty much unchallenged, but dad was always different in Tyson's Corner. It was as if he had some kind of loyalty to his home town that I didn't understand. I was just glad the whole thing was over, I felt my heart jump into my throat when that asshole got in my dad's face and I was sure that something terrible was about to happen. I was tense throughout the rest of dinner; I didn't speak much on the drive to the motel, I was just glad to be leaving. Tyson's Corner is a small town and there really aren't any hotels. There are several bed and breakfast style places and some nice motels but we always stayed outside of the town near the highway. This place was a collection of little bungalows, spread around a courtyard parking lot. Dad checked us in and as soon as we got to our room, I headed for the shower. Today had been a long day, beginning with an English test, then cross country practice and finally a drive across nearly three states. I stripped naked and looked into the mirror, while waiting for the water to heat up. It was an exercise in simple vanity, like all boys my age; I was checking to make sure I hadn't sprouted any pimples and monitoring the development of my growing body. I like my body but if I have one complaint, it's how pale my skin is. When your dad's Irish-English and your mom is Danish, well, you don't exactly tan well. In fact, my roommate back at school has often accused me of haunting our dorm with my whiteness. That being said, I was happy to report no sign of acne on my smooth face, and some developing muscle tone on my abdomen. I liked to run but I'd only joined the cross country team to keep in shape for swimming season. I love the water and have been diving since I was a very little boy, Choate had a great swimming program and I was looking forward to being on the team in the spring. When the mirror started to fog up, I climbed into the shower and let the water wash over me. I felt the stress of the day leaving my body; I wasn't even upset about my dad's restaurant confrontation anymore. When I was finished, I toweled off, deodorized, put on a clean white t-shirt, fresh briefs and a pair of boxers. I don't normally wear two pairs of underpants but ever since I started prep school, I've worn boxers sort of like pajamas. I'm kind of a modest guy and don't like to walk through my dorm, showing off my tighty whities for my friends. I brushed my teeth and finished my nightly routine. When I came back into the room, dad already had his pajamas on. It was only 9:00pm but having been a long day, we were exhausted and I climbed straight into bed. I'm 14 but dad still felt the need to tuck me in and kiss me good night, I can't even pretend I objected, I love my daddy and don't get embarrassed when he's affectionate with me. "Sleep tight, Tiger," said Dad, "I'm going to check my email and turn in myself." "Night dad, see you in the morning," I replied. He sat at the table with his laptop, and even though he still had the lights on, I passed out cold. I hadn't been asleep long when I woke with a start. Dad was shaking my shoulder and there was someone pounding on the door. "Dad, what the hell?" I yawned. "Come on Benji, get up," Dad whispered. "What's going on?" I asked. "Benji, I want you to listen to me," said Dad. "But who's at the door?" I asked. "I want you to do exactly as I say," said Dad, taking me by the arm and leading me to the bathroom. "Dad, you're scaring me, what's going on?" I stated. "Look, everything is going to be fine but I want you to climb out the bathroom window and run into the woods," said Dad. "Are you nuts, it's freezing out there," I complained, but was interrupted by a fresh round of banging on the door. "I won't be long, I just want to make sure you're safe," said Dad. "At least let me put some clothes on..." I started. "There's no time for that, you have to go now, I'll help you," said Dad. The window was small and high up on the wall; dad had to give me a boast to climb through it. I started to shiver the instant my feet hit the ground, the wind and snow were howling around me and I wasn't wearing anything but my underwear. Before I could register a complaint, dad stuck his hand out the window and I took it in mine. "Benji, no matter what you hear, I don't want you coming back in here until I come to get you, ok?" he asked. "Ok dad, I love you," I sniffled, truly frightened. "I love you Benji, I'll always love you, now get going," Dad said, cryptically. I started to make for the woods but I heard a loud crashing sound and realized our door had been kicked in. I couldn't make out the voices but I heard shouting, the wind was howling so loudly that I couldn't distinguish the words. I stood on my tip toes but was still too short to see through the window, and that's when I heard the sound that changed my life forever, a loud bang. A loud bang and then all was quiet but the howling of the wind. I'd never heard a gunshot before but I knew that's what it was, there were no more voices, no more shouting. On instinct alone, I followed my dad's instructions and ran into the woods. I was trembling from fear and the frigid air swirling around me. My feet were numb and my clothes were so thin that I might as well have been naked, but I kept running. Twigs and branches whipped against me skin, my heart pounded in my chest, my lungs screamed for air and just when I thought I couldn't take another step, I crashed through a clump of pine trees, only to go over a small cliff, just above the highway. It must have been an 8 or 10 foot drop and when I hit the hard ground, there was a sickening crunch and my head bounced off the hard snow. I saw lights coming towards me but when I lifted my head, everything went black. "That's all I remember, I don't know what happened after that," I sniffled. "My deputy, Jimmy, he found you and brought you to the emergency room," said the Sheriff. "I treated you for exposure and your broken wrist," said George, "social services wanted to put you in the juvenile center until we sorted out who you were but I brought you here instead." I turned to look at Nancy and she pulled me into her as the tears started streaming again. She rubbed up and down my back and rocked me in her arms. "Excuse me for a moment folks, I need to make a phone call," said the Sheriff. George nodded and the Sheriff stepped into the living room and withdrew his cell phone from his pocket. "Sheriff's Office," answered Jimmy. "Jimmy, it's Ed, I need you to take care of something for me," the Sheriff explained. "Sure thing boss, what do you need?" asked Jimmy. "I want you to go over to Judge Donavan's and get a warrant to search Joe Harper's truck," said the Sheriff. "On a Sunday, he's not gonna like that," said Jimmy. "Tough shit, it's important," said the Sheriff. "Ok, ok I'll take care of it, where are you?" asked Jimmy. "I'm at Doc Prescott's with the boy you found Friday night," said the Sheriff. "Oh, he doesn't have anything to do with that mess over at the motel, does he?" asked Jimmy. "Looks that way Jimmy, just get the warrant, ok?" said the Sheriff. "Right, I'm on it boss," said Jimmy. By the time the Sheriff returned to the kitchen to continue his questioning, I was in full meltdown. I was so overcome with grief that I couldn't contain myself. I was sobbing uncontrollably, and started to hyperventilate, that's when I started to get scared, I couldn't breathe. George reacted at once; he laid me down on the kitchen floor and sent Nancy to grab his medical bag. When she returned, he injected me with a mild sedative that put me right to sleep; I don't even remember him carrying me to my bed. The Sheriff knew that he had done the right thing by having me explain what had happened but that didn't stop him from feeling bad about my reaction. He apologized for the trouble, than told George about his call to his office. He left with the promise that he would contact us the moment they had any information to offer. I slept the rest of the afternoon and woke up sometime before dinner, but I wasn't hungry. I had my emotions back under control, there was no danger of hyperventilating again, but I was still too upset to do much. When it was time to eat, I stayed in Jamie's room, crying into a pillow. Eventually there was a knock at the door. "Go away please," I sniffled. But Dylan didn't go away; he waited a moment, then came in and sat on the bed next to me. "I-I brought you a sandwich," said Dylan. "I'm not hungry; can you please just leave me alone?" I asked. "Ok," he agreed. But he didn't get up; in fact he sat there for a moment before he let out an audible sigh. "I'm sorry about your dad," said Dylan. "Oh like you care," I scoffed, "You hate me and I don't even know why." "I don't hate you," he practically whispered. "You could have fooled me," I replied, sarcastically. "I know, I've been a real jerk to you the last couple days," Dylan admitted, "I'm sorry, that wasn't your fault." "Really?" I asked, wiping my eyes. "See, I lost my parents to," said Dylan. "I didn't know that," I replied. "I know, I don't like talking about it," Dylan admitted. "I can see why, I don't know what I'm going to do," I stated, and then broke into fresh tears. This time, Dylan was tender; he put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me gently. "Look, I know it's hard for you, it was hard for me too but you'll be ok," said Dylan. "How do you know?" I whined. "Because, you're here, and mom and dad are really great people, they'll help you and so will Jamie and well, me too, if I can," said Dylan. "I'm all alone now, I don't have anyone," I sniffled. "You have us, I know that's not the same as having your dad but it's something," said Dylan, "I came here after watching cancer eat away at first my dad, then my mom, it was hard for me and that's why I was so rough on you." "I don't understand, what did I do?" I asked. "You reminded me of what it was like when I first came here and I just started remembering all the bad stuff that happened," Dylan explained. "I'm sorry," I replied. "It wasn't your fault, I'm the one that's sorry, forgive me?" asked Dylan. "Yeah of course," I answered. "Good, that's a start, now, do you want to come downstairs?" said Dylan. "No, I'm just not up to it, all I want to do is go back to sleep," I explained. "Ok, I know what that's like too, but you can come to me if you need to you know, talk about anything," he offered. "Thanks, I appreciate that, and thanks for the sandwich," I half smiled. "You're welcome," smiled Dylan, then he gave me another hug. When Dylan left, I took a couple of bites of the sandwich he made me but I just couldn't eat. I curled up under the blanket and cried myself to sleep. When it was time for him to get ready for bed, Jamie entered quietly and changed into his pajamas without so much as a peep, than he did something that surprised me. Jamie climbed into bed behind me and spooned in close, wrapping his arm around my chest. I was only half awake but I reached out and held his hand. "Don't be scared, everything will be alright," said Jamie, gently. His kindness and sympathy were almost overwhelming; I couldn't find words to explain how much it meant to me, so I just gave his hand a squeeze, that's when he kissed me on the cheek. "Goodnight Benji," whispered Jamie. "Goodnight Jamie," I whispered back.