Date: Fri, 10 May 2013 19:20:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: ritchchristopher@att.net
Subject: Echoes-From-A-Wishing-Well-chapter 2 (revised)

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.

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		       "Echoes from a Wishing Well"

			 Copyright Ritchris, 2007
			 (Revised Copyright, 2013)

				  A Story

				    by

			     Ritch Christopher

			       <><><><><><>

				chapter two

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	Trent felt so safe after Dean had saved him from the clutches of
Farley Adams, in addition to which he was thrilled to think that the almost
'happenstance' situated him in that he had to go visit Dean and Cyrus again
in their home. Inside his body, Trent was trembling, though. What if ,
well, thank God, it hadn't happened and Dean hadn't had to save Trent?

	As the middle-ageed gentleman and the young man arrived at Dean's home,
they almost rushed up onto the porch and into the blessed shade. "Now that
feels better than that sun," Dean said. "Would you like a glass of cold
lemonade?" he asked Trent.

	"Yeah, that would be great, Dean! I am thirsty." Trent's gratitude
was genuine and was recognized as such by his host.

	"You know, I was going to call you later at your grandmother's to
see if you were busy tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night."

	"Geez! What for, Dean?".

	"A friend of ours in New York, Art Whitman, is stage manager for a
new show which is due to open on Broadway this fall. The company is having
out-of-town tryouts in Boston, Philadelphia, and a few other spots until
they get the show in shape!"

	"Sounds swell! Who wrote it?"

	"A new songwriting team, Lawrence and Seagal. It's their first
show, so I don't think you'd know any of their songs."

	"I don't mean to be forward, Dean, but what has that got to do with
what you want me to do tonight, tomorrow; and tomorrow night?"

	"Well, Art, our friend, is divorced and his sixteen-year-old son
lives with him. His son's name is Ron...Ronnie Whitman. His dad called and
asked if Ronnie could come down and spend a couple or three weeks with us
while Art was out of town with the show. New York is NOT a place for a
sixteen year old boy to be all by himself. Cyrus and I thought that, since
Ronnie's dad works in musicals, you and he might just hit it off and could
spend some time with each other. I doubt if Ronnie would relish being
cooped in here with two old goats like us. Do you think you could entertain
him some while he's here?"

	"I could try. I mean, I don't have many things at home to entertain
him with."

	"You know, you could take him swimming in Vernon's Pond, play our
piano, go for walks, hikes...do things that boys in New York don't get to
do every day."

	"Do you think he'd like that? I mean, coming from New York as he
is, and spending time with a Tennessee hick like me...?"

	"You're NOT a hick, Trent. I think there's a lot the two of you
could learn from each other, especially since you DO come from different
locales."

	"Well, I WOULD like to know more about New York!"

	"Incidentally, Ronnie is a WONDERFUL pianist. It'd be fun to see
what songs YOU know that he doesn't and vice-versa."

	"WOW! He plays piano?"

	"He even played audition piano for the people trying out for his
dad's new show."

	"He MUST be good!"

	"Actually, he's better than I was when I was his age."

	"When is he gonna get here?"

	"He's flying from New York to Knoxville and taking a Greyhound bus
from Knoxville to Weston. We expect to pick him up at the bus station
around five this afternoon."

	Trent thought out the entire situation with Ronnie and looked down
at his overalls.

	"Dean, the only clothes I have to 'play in' are overalls. I don't
think I'd make a very good first impression."

	"Do you have a spare pair of overalls?"

	"Several..."

	"Maybe Ronnie would like to dress as you do...you know, get the
feel of living in rural Tennessee."

	"Sure...if they'll fit him..."

	Dean looked at Trent and saw that this didn't satisfy the boy and
that he DID feel somewhat ashamed of his appearance.

	"Look, I'll tell you what, Trent. It's five hours before Ronnie
arrives. I need to go into town and pick up some junk food that Ronnie will
like. Why don't you come into town with me?"

	"I should tell Granny Dee where I'm goin'."

	"Do you know how to start a car?"

	"Yeah."

	"Here's the keys. Go crank up the car while I call your Granny
Dee."

	"ME? SURE!" Trent answered with glee.

	He took the keys, ran to Dean's car, unlocked it, sat down and
turned the ignition. The car air-conditioner spewed hot air for about
thirty seconds before turning cool. This was the first car with
air-conditioning that Trent had ever been in. The feeling was entirely new
to him. It seemed impossibly luxurious to him! He closed the door and lay
his head back on the headrest and tried to eliminate everything else but
what he felt. Without consciously doing so, he began to hum, 'In The Cool,
Cool, Cool Of The Evening', realized what he was doing and laughed to
himself. Five minutes later, Dean ran out of the house to the car. When
Trent saw him, he scooted himself to the passenger's side to let Dean get
in.

	"MAN! Does that cold air ever feel good!", Dean exclaimed.

	"Did you call my Granny Dee?"

	"Sure did! She was tickled to death to hear about the trip to town
AND about Ronnie's arrival. She said that since you didn't have many close
friends your age, she thought it would do you a world of good to spend some
time with Ronnie."

	"WOW! You two said all that in ONE conversation?"

	"Yep!" Dean disengaged the emergency brake, put the car in gear and
headed the car downtown.

	"I'm surprised you got off the phone as quickly as you did. Usually
Granny Dee won't talk to anyone on the phone for less than half an hour!"

	"Ah, Trent, I hope you know your Granny Dee is a real sweetheart!
You're very lucky to have someone who loves you as much as she does."

	"I know...and I love her, too. I mean, like I told you...everybody
else at school has a mother and dad, but all I have is Granny Dee. She's
both mother AND dad to me."

	"I don't really think she minds, do you?"

	"No! I try to show her how much she means to me by doing everything
I can around the house to help her. I mean, without her, I wouldn't have
ANYBODY!"

                  "Well, like I said the other day, now you have two...I don't know what you'd call us..'UNCLE'S'?...who'll be there for you."

	"Dean, why are you being so kind to me?" To Dean, who was
accustomed to New York and its inhabitants use of subterfuge, Trent's
directness was an indication of his personal truth.

	He looked straight into Trent's eyes for a moment and then replied,
"Because you're you! That's enough! You're talented! You're industrious!
You care about your Granny! Neither Cyrus nor I don't have any children OR
nephews. I suppose Ronnie is LIKE being our nephew...he even calls us
'Uncle Dean' and 'Uncle Cyrus'."

	"Then THAT'S what I want to call you, too! I mean, I feel almost
disrespectful, calling one of my elders by his first name."

	"ELDERS? Well, yeah, I suppose we are. You're fifteen and Cyrus and
I admit to being 'fifty-something'... I think 'Uncle Dean' and 'Uncle
Cyrus' will do just fine, Trent."

	Dean pulled onto Main Street and drove down to Miller's Dry Goods
where he stopped and parked out front.

	"What do you need from here, Uncle Dean?"

	"You'll see. Come on, get out!"

	Dean and Trent went inside the store and immediately saw Candy
Miller, the owner of the store, who came over and greeted them, smiling.

	"Why, MR. BARGER and TRENT! How can I help you?"

	"Good afternoon, Miss Miller. We'd like to see some of your finest
blue jeans to fit young Trent here."

	"Oh, no, Dean, I mean Uncle Dean...I couldn't!", Trent objected.

	"Well, you and Ronnie are about the same size, so why don't you try
on a pair and we'll buy the jeans for him."

	"Well, OK...in that case..."

	Dean winked at Candy, who got the idea Dean was trying to get
across.

	"Come on back here, Trent. Looking at you, I'd say about a
twenty-eight waist and about a twenty-nine inseam."

	She dug through a pile of Levi blue jeans until she found the size
she was looking for. She handed a pair to Trent and told him to go into the
tiny back room and try them on. Once Trent had gone, Dean looked at Candy
and said, "I DO need to buy some jeans for my 'adopted' nephew from New
York...say about six pairs...three for my nephew and three for Trent. I
don't want him to know, so if you'll just play along with me, I'd
appreciate it."

	"Sure, Mr. Barger. What else are you gonna need?"

	"What do kids Trent's age wear?"

	"Jeans, polo shirts, white socks and loafers."

	"What about a belt?"

	"That, too, yeah."  Smiling broadly, Dean said quietly, "Give me
about half a dozen...NO, make that a dozen assorted colored polo shirts, a
couple of leather belts, a dozen pair of socks. Oh, what about underwear,
Miss Miller?"

	"Boys of Trent's age go both ways...boxers and/or white briefs. We even have something new called, 'boxer-briefs!"

	"What do YOU recommend?"

	"Briefs...Fruit of the Looms!"

	"Great...about a dozen pairs...Trent's size."

	"That would be a small."

	"Wonderful!" Dean kept looking around at various counters. "Miss
Miller, do boys wear western shirts?"

	"Sometimes..."

	"Pick me out a couple of that actually scream, 'yippee ki-yay!"

	"Will do! I know JUST the very ones!", she chuckled.

	"What about hats? Do boys wear hats...and if so, what kind?"

	"We have western hats, cowboy hats, ball caps..."

	"Which do you think would look best on someone my nephew's age?"

	"I'd get him a ball cap!"

	"Fine...pick out two...one red and one blue!"

	"Right away!", and she hustled away to fill her customer's order,
the largest one she'd had in quite a while, probably ever.

	Trent came out of the dressing room without a shirt as he had worn
his overalls into town. The jeans fit nicely...waist AND length. Then Dean
asked Trent to try on some loafers to see how they would look with blue
jeans. Candy glanced at Trent's foot and turned to the shelves of men's'
shoes.  She pulled out a box of brown loafers, size eight-and-a-half, and
Trent put them on his bare feet. Dean wasn't satisfied with the shoes until
he had Trent put on a pair of white socks to see how the shoes would fit.

	Looking down at them, Trent was dazzled and maybe a little envious. Considering that all he had were lace-up brogands, he thought these were the nicest
shoes he'd ever worn! He walked from the front of the store to the back. Halfway
there, he stopped and did a pirouette without breaking stride.

	"And where did you learn to do that, young man?" Dean asked.

	Grinning, Trent answered, "I watched Gene Kelly do it on an old
movie and then I tried it! I didn't do it right the first time, but now I
can do LOTS of Gene Kelly's steps!"

	"I'm not surprised, Trent," Dean replied.  "I suppose I almost
expected it!"

	"So do you think THESE will fit Ronnie?" Trent asked.

	"I...I'm positive they will!" Then he looked at Candy. "Could you
sack all the things up that we picked out for my nephew? You..uh..might want to
put them into two packages. Trent can carry one and I, the other".  Dean winked
and Candy nodded.

	"Certainly, Mr. Barger!"

	This was the biggest sale Candy had made since last Christmas as
she took the price tags off everything: six pairs of jeans, twelve polo
shirts, two Western shirts. a dozen pairs of white socks, twelve pairs of
Fruit of the Looms briefs, two belts,  two pairs of loafers, and a two ballcaps. Dean
kept Trent busy looking at shirts so that Trent couldn't see what Candy was
bagging, while dividing the goods into equal wrapping. Finally she ran a total on
her crank adding machine and cash register.

	"What's the damage?" Dean asked.

	"That comes to four-hundred-seventy-eight-dollars and ninety-four
cents, Mr. Barger." she said, a little apologetically.

	"A bargain at any cost, Miss Miller. Do you take VISA or American
Express?"

	"Both...only with American Express, they get more of a percentage
of my profit."

	"Then we'll put it on VISA!" Dean said, handing her his credit
card.  As he watched and listened respectfully, Trent was dumbfounded. "Golly-bum! You almost spend five hundred dollars on Ronnie! He sure is lucky that someone like you loves him enough to do that!" Trent exclaimed in wonder.

	"Trent, once you meet Ronnie, you'll see that he's worth it!"

	"He really must be special to both of you, Uncle Dean!"

	"Both Cyrus and I love him. Ronnie's like the child we'll never
have."

	"I hate to ask this, Uncle Dean, but..." Trent hesitated.

	"What, Trent?"

	"Well, if Ronnie's gonna be wearing jeans, do you think I could
borrow a pair just so we'd be dressed more alike?"

	"Hmmm! Now that's a terrific idea. We'll pick you out a pair AND a
shirt when we get back to the house."

	"I promise to take good care of them, sir."

	"I know you will, Trent, my boy."

	"Your packages are all ready!" Candy announced.

	"Trent, would you help me carry that one with the red string to the car?  I'll carry the blue one."

	"You know I will...you shouldn't even have to ask!"

	Trent loaded up both arms with brown paper and red cord and went outside to put it in the back seat of Dean's car.

	"Thanks for all your help, Miss Miller!"

	"Thank YOU for the nice sale, Mr. Barger!"

	"More than likely, we'll be down to buy more things next week."

	"I'll look forward to seein' you...OH! Mr. Barger, if you don't
mind, my name is Candy..."

	"OK, thank you, Candy...then I'm 'Dean'

	They smiled and shook hands before Dean left to join Trent in the
car.

              	As they left, Candy said to herself, "Queer, huh? Nothing queer about him except the way he spends money! Hallelujah, the more, the merrier! Merrier? Is that why they're called gay?" She laughed and kissed her cash register.


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	By the time Dean and Trent got through buying groceries, soda pop
 and snacks of all kinds for the two boys, it was nearly three o'clock. With all the
shopping they'd done, there was very little room left in the trunk OR the
backseat of Dean's car.

	"Do you think we bought enough?" Dean asked, jokingly.

	"Boy, I'd say!" Trent replied. "Do you have enough cabinet space in
your kitchen to store all this stuff?"

	"I hope so. If not, well, we'll just have to call a cabinet maker
to come over and build some more...!"

	Somehow Dean and Trent were able to find room to sit in the car as
they headed home. Dean couldn't see out his rear window as the packages and
sacks were piled to the car's dome.

	"You know, Uncle Dean? This is the most fun I've ever had in my
life!"

	"Heck, Trent, all we did was just go shopping!" And Dean suddenly
realized that 'just shopping' today had given him more pleasure than he'd
known in a long time.

	"Yes, but look how much you bought! I don't mean to pry, but are
you and Uncle Cyrus rich?"

	"Rich? Yes, by some people's standards, I'm sure. But Cyrus and I
worked a long time on Broadway. Sometimes our shows made money and
sometimes, they almost put us in the poor house. Putting on a show is like
gambling or playing the stock market. If you pick the right horse, the
right stock, or the right material for a show, you can make a killing. If
not, you go broke and hope you make a better choice the next time. As for
our being rich?...all Cyrus and I ever did in New York was work at what we
loved...and any money we made, we didn't spend because we were too busy to
take the time to enjoy it. Then when we decided to buy a farm in Tennessee
to retire, we found out that we had accumulated much more than we ever
thought. It doesn't take HALF as much money to live in Tennessee as it does
New York...so everything we buy now is like buying it at half price. I
guess you have no idea what the clothes we bought at Miller's would have
cost at Bloomingdales or Saks?"

	"I'd have no idea...like you said."

	"What we bought from Candy Miller would run about twenty-five
hundred to three thousand dollars in New York!"

	"Good heavens! No wonder you went hog wild in Miller's!"

	"Is that what I did? Go hog wild?" Dean chuckled. "Well, I guess I
did, but I think Ronnie will like what we bought!"

	"What time is it now, Dean?"

	"Nearly three-thirty."

	"Ronnie'll be here in about an hour and a half!"

	"You wanna go with me to the Greyhound station to pick him up?"

	"Uh...I don't know..." Trent's insecurity was plainly seen on his
face. Dean realized that the boy felt he'd come off as being the 'poor
cousin'.

	"OKAY!", Dean announced. "IF you put on a pair of Ronnie's new
jeans AND a new shirt...maybe even a pair a shoes WITH socks, would you go
with me then?"

	"Sure...but I promise I won't get 'em dirty or mess 'em up to much!
I mean, I'd hate wearing someone's clothes when they're brand new.  Ronnie
hasn't even seen them yet!"

	"Well, then. do you think Granny Dee would let me give you a pair
of jeans and a shirt to be yours?"

	"You mean...for keeps?"

	"Yep, for keeps!"

	"WOW! I just don't want Ronnie to know that you bought 'em for him
first!"

	"OK! It'll be OUR secret!"

	"It SURE WILL BE!"

	"And, oh...I want you to wear a pair of new underwear! While you
were putting on your overalls at the pond, I noticed that you weren't
wearing any."

	"You saw me nekkid?"

	"From a long distance...through the binoculars."

	"OK, sure, I'll wear 'em."

	"That would give you something to wear when you go to bed tonight."

	"You mean I'm spendin' the night at YOUR house?"

	"I've already got your Granny Dee's permission. Remember I asked if
you were free today, tonight, and tomorrow?"

	"Yes."

	"Well, that included spending the night at our house with Ronnie."

	"Well, we won't be sleepin' in the same bed, will we?"

	"That's up to you and Ronnie. We have TWO spare rooms. You can have
one all to yourself or if you and Ronnie hit it off as I expect you will,
you can stay up all night, talking or playing video games."

	Trent's face darkened for a moment. "I don't know how to play video
games, Uncle Dean."

	"Cyrus and I can teach you...if you'd like?"

	"You and Uncle Cyrus play video games?"

	"All the time! We have the latest ones. Cyrus buys them on the
Internet and he's good at them!"

	"Guys YOUR age playing video games?"

	"AND WHY NOT. young man?" Dean's mock ferocity was uncovered as he
laughed. "We've spent our lives together, having fun...why should we stop
now, now that we've retired?"

	Trent shook his head. "You two are sumpthin' else. you know?"

	"I suppose we are, Trent..."

	"You know, Uncle Dean, there are...well, rumors about you two..."

	"I should expect so. People think we're queers...OLD queers, at
that!"

	"You aren't, are you?"

	"Trent, if you're asking if we're two old queers, the answer is
'no'! But if you're asking if Cyrus and I are gay...then the answer is
'yes'."

	"There's a difference?" His puzzlement was obvious.

	"A BIG ONE! You see, Cyrus and I have been together for over thirty
years...and in all that time, he's been the only man in my life...and I, in
his. We don't stray. We've never been unfaithful to one another...and NO!
We've never attacked teen-aged boys!"

	"Oh, I wasn't worried about that, Uncle Dean! You and Uncle Cyrus
make me feel safe."

	"And 'SAFE' is what you'll always be around us. Safe from anything
and from anybody who tries to harm you!"

	"Hey, there's your driveway! You almost missed it!"

	"Well, dumb old me! I guess I need you to show me around Weston!"

	"Boy, is Uncle Cyrus gonna be surprised when he sees all the stuff
we bought!"

	"Ha! He'll only be envious that he wasn't there with us to buy MORE
stuff!"

	Dean pulled his car next to the steps to the porch and honked the
horn. Cyrus came out, almost immediately. He took one look at the pile of
packages in the backseat and exclaimed with a broad smile, "My God, Dean!
Why didn't you buy a new car or a truck? you might've broken the axle on
this one?"

	"Will you hush and help us unload?" Dean replied. "You've got to
start dinner while Trent and I go downtown to pick up Ronnie!"

	"Did you buy any groceries?" Cyrus joked.

	"Shut up, you old fool, and start carrying!" Dean snapped back,
humorously.

	While Trent and Cyrus were unloading the car, Dean took the Miller
packages upstairs to Ronnie's bedroom and picked out a pair of jeans, a
bright blue polo shirt, a pair of white briefs, socks, a belt, a pair of
loafers, and a blue baseball cap and set them aside on the bed. Then he
went downstairs to help with the rest of the groceries.

	"Trent, I picked out something for you to wear to the bus
station. Go upstairs to the second door on the right and look on the bed. I
think you'll find everything you need."

	Trent's face lit up with joy as he took the stairs two at time,
running to Ronnie's room. Seeing the stack of clothes Dean had picked out,
he stripped out of his overalls, and dressed himself in his new 'borrowed'
duds. There was a full-length mirror on the closet door and once he was
completely dressed, Trent took time to look at himself. His hair needed
combing badly and since he didn't have a comb, he tried to part his hair
with his fingers and brush it to either side, the best he could. 'Wow!', he
thought. 'EVERYTHING fits perfectly!' Trent had never felt so dressed up
before and inwardly wished he had lots of clothes like these. The loafers
felt strange on his feet, but in a good way---they were so darned
comfortable, even WITH socks! Then when he appeared to be ready, he slowly
walked down the stairs to model the finery that he knew belonged to Ronnie,
and was only loaned to him.

	Dean and Cyrus were bringing in the last bundle of groceries when
they noticed the 'new' Trent descending the staircase. Both stopped to
admire him.

	"My, my, my! Is that a Zeigfeld boy?" Dean asked Cyrus.

	"I don't know, but I'm sure he must be a Broadway star!" Cyrus
replied.

	"Aw, you two!" Trent said, blushing.

	"You look great, Trent!" Dean added.

	"Do you think Ronnie'll approve of how I'm dressed?"

	"He'll drop dead with envy!" Dean replied.

	"What would you like for dinner, Trent?" Cyrus asked.

	"Well, what would Ronnie like?"

	"Ronnie will eat ANYTHING I set on the table. He's not a picky
eater!"

	"Could we have hamburgers or hot dogs and French fries?"

	"French fries imported from Paris, if you like!"

	"Gosh, do you have those?"

	"No. Cyrus was making that up!" Dean laughed.

	"Trent, if that's what you want, that's what we'll all have!" Cyrus
stated boldly.

	"But do you think Ronnie will like them?"

	"Only if I grill him four hamburgers and about a half dozen hot
dogs!" Cyrus said.

	"Jeez! I'm only used to eating one hamburger."

	"Maybe so, young man, but you've never had one of MY
hamburgers. I'll bet you won't stop until you've eaten at least three!"
Cyrus spoke up.

	"Well, I know that Uncle Dean bought enough food for an army!"

	"Your Uncle Dean bought enough to feed half the county, but I
expect that won't have been enough by the time Ronnie returns to New York."

	"Are we ready to go, Uncle Dean?" Trent asked.

	"Almost! You know, earlier I offered you a glass of cold lemonade
and we never got around to it"

	"Oh, yeah, Uncle Dean! I'd sure love some!"

	Dean went into the kitchen and poured three large tumblers of
lemonade and brought them back to the living room, handing a glass each to
Trent and Cyrus. Cyrus lifted his glass to toast and mouthed to Dean, 'I
love the clothes!' when Trent wasn't looking.

	Trent talked like a jabberwocky to Cyrus, describing the trip to
Miller's and to the grocery store as Cyrus sat, taking it all in, as if it
were the most important item of the day to him. His face glowed with the
love he felt for Trent, the selfless love of a family member at Christmas.
Soon the clock read four-fifteen and Dean stood up to say it was time to go
get Ronnie. As Trent and Dean started out the door, Trent came back to face
Cyrus. Without being prompted, Trent gave Cyrus a big hug. "Thanks, Uncle
Cyrus!" was all he said, leaving Cyrus almost speechless.

	"And what was THAT for?" Cyrus asked.

	"Just for being YOU!" Trent said as he ran out the door. Cyrus was
grinning from ear to ear, but his eyes were a little moist.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

	'Grinning from ear to ear' was about the best way to describe the
look on Ronnie Whitman's face when he got off the Greyhound bus and caught
the first glimpse of 'Uncle' Dean.  Ronnie came running toward Dean with
both arms wide open and embraced him with the heartiest welcome ever.

	"Gee, it's good to see you, Uncle Dean!" Ronnie said, kissing Dean
on his right cheek.

	"I'm so glad you made the airplane/bus connection with no trouble."

	"You know I like traveling at ground level so that I can look at
the countryside and see the farms and the livestock. It's such a welcome
change from looking at tall gray skyscrapers year all round."

	"Ronnie, I want you to meet someone...a neighbor, to be exact. This
is Trent Matthews! Trent, this is our Ronnie."

	"Great to meet you!" Trent said, holding out his hand to shake with
Ronnie's.

	"Same here!" Ronnie replied.

	Both boys sized each other up. Although Ronnie was a year older
than Trent, they were just about the same height, weight, and
body-build. Both had brown hair with a tad of freckles across their
noses. For a split second, each boy felt as if he had met his long-lost
brother as large smiles spread across both faces.

	Ronnie took Trent's hand to shake and asked, "Is this a Tennessee
welcome? I thought everyone down here hugged!"

	"I could hug you if you like!" Trent said.

	"Well, that's what I'd like!" Ronnie replied.

	The two boys hugged while Dean smiled with a sigh of pleasure. His
two 'nephews' had just met and already they had 'hit it off'! Dean was
certain now that Ronnie would have a nice stay with Trent around to keep
him company.

	"Is your luggage underneath the bus?" Dean asked.

	"Yes. I wasn't sure of what to bring, so I just grabbed two
suitcases full, slammed them into the trunk of the taxi and headed toward
JFK airport."

	"I..well, Trent and I bought you some new duds and put them in your
bedroom at the house."

	"I knew you'd do that. You've done it every year that I've come
down to visit!" Ronnie said.

	"You've been to Weston before?" Trent asked.

	"Several times..."

	"I just wonder why I didn't meet you before." Trent asked, puzzled.

	"Well, Trent, I don't know how you came into Uncle Dean's life, but
every time before when I visited, I really didn't meet anyone. Most of the
neighbors were none too friendly toward Uncle Dean and Uncle Cyrus."

	"Yeah, I know all about that and about the reason why..." Trent
replied, slightly embarrassed.

	"Let's go get your suitcases and head home!" Dean added.

	Dean carried one suitcase and Trent, being neighborly, carried the
other to the car and off the three of them sped to see Cyrus.

	"How's your dad?" Dean asked.

	"Nervous as all get out!"

	"He always is just before a new show opens. That's the way ALL
three of us used to be...your dad, Cyrus, and me."

	"Did you and Uncle Cyrus do any more work on the show you were
talking about?"

	"We wrote a couple of songs, but lost our inspiration...that is,
until young Trent came into our lives this past week."

	"Oh?"

	"Ronnie, Trent wants to star in a Broadway musical!"

	"You sing?" Ronnie asked.

	"Like a Tennessee Robert Goulet!" Dean answered before Trent got a chance.

	"That's swell. Trent, did Uncle Dean tell you that I play the piano?"

	"Yeah...and they told me how good you are!"

	"I'm not as good as Dean, yet!"

	"Like heck you aren't. You're better than I."

	"That's bull and you know it!"

	"Ronnie, for the past twenty-four hours, your Uncle Cyrus and I
have been as excited as blue jays in a bird bath, just waiting to hear you
play while Trent sings."

	"What kind of songs do you know, Trent?"

	"Trent knows just about EVERY song written for EVERY show EVER
produced on Broadway!"

	"You're kiddin'! Where did you learn them?"

	"Stacks and stacks of music at my high school," Trent answered.

	"We should have lots of fun while I'm here!"

	"I hope so!" Trent said.

	"That's what Cyrus and I are hoping, too, Ronnie."

	"How IS Uncle Cyrus? Is he in good health?"

	"Cantankerous as ever, but still the love of my life!" Dean joked.

	"You guys still amaze me...being together for so many years and
still in love as if you'd just met..." Ronnie said.

	"How's YOUR love life?" Dean asked Ronnie.

	"I'm still going steady with Rosie!" Ronnie replied.

	"You've got a girlfriend named Rosie in New York?" Trent asked.

	"Yes, but she travels with me wherever I go..."

	"Oh? She's coming down, too?"

	"Nope. Rosie's already here."

	"But...I don't understand...?" Trent said.

	"You DON'T know Rosie, do you, Trent?" Dean asked.

	"How would 'I' know her?"

	"Would you say Trent's just a little naive?" Ronnie asked Dean.

	"Trent, Ronnie's talking about Rosie Palms..."

	"Who?"

	"I suppose I'm gonna have to give Trent a couple of lessons about
the birds and the bees, Uncle Dean." Ronnie joked, then looked at
Trent. Ronnie held out his open hand. "What do you call this, Trent?"

	"That's your palm..."

	"And both of them?"

	"Your palms..." Ronnie closed his fist slightly and pretended to
jerk his crotch! "OH! I guess I AM naive! I'd never heard it called that
before."

	"I thought all guys called masturbation, 'going steady with Rosie
Palms', no matter what part of the country they came from."

	"Now I KNOW for SURE I'm naive. I...I've never discussed
masturbation with ANYONE!"

	"You DO masturbate, don't you?"

	No one had ever asked this question to Trent and his faced turned
red. Glancing sideways at Dean, he replied quietly, "Well, I HAVE, a couple
of times!"

	"Oh, man! I've got LOTS to teach you while I'm here." Ronnie said,
but then Dean gave Ronnie a look which plainly said to end that topic of
conversation.

	"Uh...seeing that you're from New York City, do you ever get a
chance to swim?" Trent said, changing the subject.

	"Sure, I go to the 'Y' sometimes and swim in the nude," Ronnie
replied.

	"Ha! I go skinny-dippin' in Vernon's Pond, just across the road
from Uncle Dean and Uncle Cyrus' house."

	"You call them 'uncle', too?"

	"They...they asked me to..."

	"Well, I suppose that makes us brothers or at least first cousins! I think I know Vernon's Pond. Isn't that where we went fishing," Ronnie asked.
Ronnie said.

	"The very same...", Dean said.

	Trent hadn't really made the connection, but since Ronnie had,
Trent suddenly felt a new closeness to a boy he had met just fifteen
minutes ago.

	When they arrived at the house, Cyrus made a fuss over Ronnie as if
he were the prodigal son returning home from battle. Cyrus and Ronnie
hugged, kissed each other on the cheek, to officially welcome Ronnie back
to the Barger/Barnes residence. Dean and Trent, meanwhile, took Ronnie's
luggage upstairs to his assigned bedroom. Trent started out of the bedroom
to go back downstairs as Dean stopped him and asked Trent to shut the
door. A tinge of fear crept into Trent's psyche as he began to wonder if he
had done something wrong. Dean walked over to Trent and placed his hands on
Trent's biceps to draw his attention straight to his eyes.

	"Trent, I want you to listen to me and I don't want to have to say
this twice."

	"Okay...but what did I do?"

	"It's not what you did, it's what you might do and I don't want to
have to argue with you about it! Promise?"

	Trent gulped in his throat slightly. "Sure, Uncle Dean, I'll do
whatever you say."

	"Good! Now listen to me and listen good..."

	"All right."

	"Those things which I bought for Ronnie at Miller's Dry Goods
today? Half of them are yours...."

	"What?"

	"You heard me! I bought you the same number of jeans, shirts,
briefs, socks, shoes, belt, underwear, and hat that I bought for Ronnie."

	"But..."

	"Now you promised NOT to argue with me."

	"I...I don't know what to say..."

	"I've seen how you and Ronnie have made friends and I want you to
stay on the same level with him...I don't want you to feel inferior in any
way. I realize you were concerned about not having anything to wear
casually, except for your overalls, so while you were trying on a pair of
jeans, I had Candy Miller pick out TWO of everything...not exactly alike,
color wise, but it's Cyrus' and my gift to you for helping entertain Ronnie
while he's here."

	Tears formed in Trent's eyes. Never had he known love from another
male, but Dean had filled in many gaps of lost memories and deep yearnings
in Trent's life in just a few short minutes. He put his arms around Dean's
neck and held Dean tightly while he cried on Dean's shoulder.

	"How can I thank you enough?"

	"I want you to grow up, become a big star on Broadway, make a hit
CD and make Cyrus and me millionaires on the residuals of our songs that
YOU'RE gonna record!"

	"Shoot, Uncle Dean! Your songs were already hits before I ever
learned 'em."

	"Then I suppose Cyrus and I will have to write you some new ones!"

	"HA! If ever I could live so long, to be so lucky!"

	"You will, my boy! You will! Now let's open both packages, pick out the shirts you like best and separate them from Ronnie's!"

	"I still can't believe this, Uncle Dean. I mean, it's August and
Christmas is still four months away!"

	"I think, with YOUR hair, you'd look good in this green shirt."

	"Uncle Dean, in case you didn't notice, Ronnie's hair and my hair
are the same color."

	"I DID notice, but I still believe you'd look better in green!"
Dean said as he began pulling out six of the twelve polo shirts. "Let's
see, now. You have your shoes, and you're wearing one pair of socks...so
you get five more pairs of socks. You ARE wearing briefs, aren't you?"

	"Yessir, just like you asked..."

	"Good, then you must have five more pairs..." Dean stepped back to
look at the two stacks of clothing he had separated and everything seemed
to be divided equally. "Now THESE all belong to you...and THESE are
Ronnie's!"

	"Where should I put them, Uncle Dean?"

	"Hang your jeans in the right hand side of the closet and put your
shirts, socks, and underwear in the three drawers on the right of the
dresser. Ronnie can put HIS in the left drawers."

	"We're gonna be sharing this room?"

	"For the time being or until you two have your first spat!"

	"I don't have fights, Uncle Dean."

	"Yes, I know. I saw that for myself earlier today when I saw you
with Farley what's-his-name!"

	Trent began putting away his new clothes, handling each garment as
gently as if they were made of golden threads. "Gosh! These are so nice..."

	"Don't admire them too much, I want you to come down when you're
finished and I'll see if Cyrus wants to put you and Ronnie in charge of
peeling the potatoes!"

	"I can do that! I peel 'em all the time for Granny Dee."

	"Good! You can show Ronnie how it's done so he won't cut off one of
his talented fingers with a paring knife!"

	Trent still couldn't believe all this was happening...and it was
happening to him! His life had taken a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn in
the past twenty-four hours...and it all seemed as if he were in the middle
of a fairy tale...only it was ALL true! He couldn't decide if he should
leave his new clothes at Dean's and Cyrus' permanently for fear his Granny
Dee wouldn't let him keep them. He might be able to sneak them home one at
a time over a period of weeks. He'd think about that later...but for now,
he'd keep on living in his dream.

<><><><><><><>

	The meal was a terrific success! Ronnie had eaten three hamburgers
and four hot dogs. Trent was only able to down two hamburgers and one and a
half hot dogs. They had grilled the burgers and franks on the outside
barbecue pit and had eaten outside on the patio table. The four of them sat
outside through twilight until they heard the frogs croaking from Vernon's
Pond and the jar flies singing away in the tall bushes. The crickets were
chirping four-part harmony and the smell of early fall honeysuckle hovered
over them as a cloud. The sunset was beautiful. Dean sat close to Cyrus and
held his hand as the sun sank over the Appalachian Mountains in the
distance. Ronnie moved closer to Trent, but they DIDN'T hold hands, but
they DID enjoy each other's company.

	When it was finally dark, everyone helped gather the dishes and
took them inside to place in the dishwasher. Again, this was something
Trent had never seen. A huge machine which did nothing but wash, rinse, and
dry dishes?

	"How about some entertainment?" Cyrus asked.

	"We've been waiting eagerly all day for this," Dean added.

	The four went into the living room. Ronnie took his place at the
piano and Trent sat beside him on the piano bench.

	"What do you want to sing?" Ronnie asked Trent.

	"Just start playing ANYTHING and see if I know it!"

	"You're on!"

	Ronnie thought for a minute and began playing an intro. After four
bars, without hesitation, Trent had heard enough of the melody to identify
the tune and on the first beat of the fifth measure, Trent sang
out..."Don't throw bouquets at me...".

	Cyrus and Dean applauded. "See, Ronnie?".

	Trent continued singing all of 'People Will Say We're In
Love'. Ronnie played a complete ensemble of 'love songs' from Broadway as
the two boys did a medley of 'I've Never Been In Love Before', 'So In
Love', 'Do I Love You?', 'Be My Love', 'Hello, Young Lovers', 'They Say
That Falling In Love Is Wonderful', 'I Wish I Were In Love Again,' and
'Love Makes The World Go Round'.

	With each new song, Ronnie's piano accompaniment became more
classical and Trent's voice sounded stronger and more confident. This 'Name
That Broadway Tune' showcase went on until eleven o'clock and could have
gone on until morning but the evening had been grand for all four of them
and now it was time for bed.

	Dean got up from the sofa and began to lock the doors and turning
out the lights. The music which Trent and Ronnie had shared had formed a
stronger bond between them. Each boy's talent had equaled and complemented
the other's. They each gave their two uncles a 'good night' hug and headed
upstairs.

	"Which is YOUR bedroom?" Ronnie asked.

	"I think the third door...but Dean said we could spend the night
together in your room IF you didn't object."

	"You don't mind sharing a bed with me?"

	"I'm really not sleepy. We could sit up and talk some more."

	"Good idea! Let me go downstairs and get us a couple of Cokes and
I'll see if Uncle Dean has some chips stashed away in one of the cupboards
and we'll have a midnight snack."

	"Oh, there's a stack of clothes on the bed which Uncle Dean bought
for you. Incidentally, MY clothes are in your closet and dresser."

	"Uncle Dean ALWAYS buys me new clothes when I visit. I've learned
to expect them. Actually, I'll tell you a secret...just between you and
me...ONE of the suitcases I brought with me is empty."

	"HA! I thought it felt rather light."

	"I didn't pack anything in it because I knew I'd have to have some
place to pack the new clothes they'd buy me."

	"That's sly! You knew it?" Trent said.

	"If you stay around our two uncles you'll get to know their plots
and schemes. You'll catch on!"

	Trent went into Ronnie's bedroom while Ronnie went downstairs to
the kitchen. Trent took the time to see if he liked any of Ronnie's new
shirts better than the ones Dean had picked out for him. To be honest, Dean
had chosen just the right ones for each. Ronnie was back in a flash with
two Cokes, a bag of Fritos, and some cheese and peanut butter crackers.

	"You wanna put on some pajamas before we begin to eat?" Ronnie
asked.

	"I...I don't have any."

	"Good. Neither do I! Do you sleep in your underwear?"

	"Well, usually when I'm at home, I wear my overalls without
underwear during the day, so when I go to bed, I don't wear anything."

	"Fine. That's another thing we have in common."

	"Yeah, but won't it seem strange if we both get into bed nekkid?"

	"No, Trent. Now listen to me say it..."

	"What?"

	"'NAKED'...the 'a' takes the long sound...'NAKED' not nekkid!"

	"Wow, I guess my Tennessee accent sounds strange to you."

	"It does kinda...BUT if you want to be a Broadway actor, it's time
you started using proper speech WITHOUT a Tennessee accent."

	"It's all I know."

	"It's NOT all you know. A few minutes ago when you were singing,
your accent was hardly noticeable at all. Most singers lose their accents
when they sing...no matter where they're from. If you won't object, while
I'm here, I'll correct you every time I hear you say something with a heavy
Tennessee accent...but I won't do it to embarrass you."

	"Wow! I'd like that."

	"Now, say, 'naked', not 'nekkid'!"

	"NAKED..."

	"Perfect! Don't ever say 'nekkid' again!"

	"I'll try not to..."

	"That's your first word...'NAKED'..."

	"OKAY, so I'll rephrase my question. Won't it seem strange if we
both sleep together NAKED?"

	"PERFECT, again."

	"Well, won't it?"

	"It won't seem strange it we don't make out or touch..."

	"I...I'm not...well, I mean..I don't..."

	"You're not gay? Is that what you're trying to say?"

	"Yes. I'm not gay."

	"So you like girls?"

	"I didn't say that either. I...I've never thought about what I
liked."

	"You confessed earlier that you masturbate, didn't you?"

	"Well, yes..."

	"So what do you think about while you're masturbating...girls or
boys?"

	"Neither. I...I just think about how great it's gonna be when I get
to the end of it!" Trent's grin had a bit of a devil in it.

	"No fantasies?"

	"Nope!"

	"That's weird!"

	"What do YOU think about?"

	"I might scare you if I told you..."

	"Come on...tell, please!"

	"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you."

	"All right, I'm warned."

	"When I masturbate, I think about the chorus boys in one of my
dad's shows."

	"You think about boys?"

	"Uh huh..."

	"Then you're saying that YOU'RE gay?"

	"As a peacock! Now do you still want to sleep with me 'nekkid'?"

	"NAKED!"

	"Well, do you?"

	"As long as you don't TRY anything with me."

	"I see you know NOTHING about gay people."

	"I don't know ANYTHING about gay people."

	"Well, the first misconception all straight people think about is
that gay people force themselves on others."

	"And you don't?"

	"Only if I were a rapist or a child molester...but most child
molesters are straight to begin with. You see, gays only go where they're
invited to go and they never cross the line."

	"So I'd be safe sleeping with you nekk....naked?"

	"As long as you didn't invite me to do otherwise."

	"OKAY! We'll sleep in the same bed naked! How's that?"

	"Wonderful! Your speech is improving already!"

	"Here, have a Coke and some Fritos!"

	"Thanks!" Trent took the drink and bag of chips. "Tell me, Ronnie,
is your dad famous?"

	"He's gonna be!"

	"What do you mean, he's gonna be?"

	"My dad wants to be a Broadway director, not just a stage
manager. He wants to be Hal Prince, Gower Champion, AND Bob Fosse!"

	"How does he get to be a famous director?"

	"When somebody hires him for a new show. Uncle Dean and Uncle Cyrus
have talked for years about writing ONE more show and letting my dad direct
it."

	"And...?"

	"They retired to Tennessee...eight hundred miles south of New
York. You know, maybe you and I could get them excited again to write a new
show!"

	"Think we could?"

	"There's no harm in trying..."

	"Ronnie?"

	"Yeah?"

	"I think I'm ready to go to bed now."

	"I'm tired, too. I had a plane ride and a bus tour and I'm a bit
tired myself."

	"Wanna turn out the lights before we get...NAKED?"

	"Why? I don't mind you seeing me in the nude." Saying that, Ronnie
stood up and stripped down to his skin. Trent was a bit shocked, especially
when he eyed Ronnie's genitals. They looked exactly as his...same size,
same amount of pubic hair. One would believe that they WERE twins! Seeing
how freely Ronnie had disrobed, Trent followed suit and stripped down the
same way. Then Ronnie took a good look at Trent's 'equipment'. "Good Lord!
We look the same!"

	"That's what I was thinking!" Trent said blatantly...enough to
surprise himself.

	"HA! Having sex with you, Trent, would almost seem like having sex
with myself."

	"I...I feel better...knowing you're not bigger than I..."

	"It takes a load off my mind too. I hate being 'small'!"

	"You've had sex with other guys?"

	"A few...only Dad doesn't know about it..."

	"Why should he?"

	"Because two of them were dancers in his last show! He would have
fired both of them on the spot!"

	"Are there lots of gay guys on Broadway?"

	"There are probably just as many who work at Wal-Mart! Gays are in
ALL professions now...lawyers, doctors, even Congressmen!"

	"How do you know all this?"

	"Well, when a guy officially comes out as gay, he's given a
membership card with a handbook, containing all the names of all the gays
in the country! We even have a secret password we use over the telephone
and a secret handshake that only WE know."

	"REALLY? ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

	"Heck, no! I'm lying big as hell!"

	Trent picked up his pillow and hit Ronnie over the head with
it. "YOU IDIOT! You had me believing all that stuff!"

	"I was just kidding you...because I like being around you."

	"You really like me?" Trent's voice held a trace of wonder.

	"Sure, why not?"

	"No one has ever said that to me before."

	"Well, don't you like ME?"

	"Sure, I do."

	"Then YOU tell me..."

	"Ronnie, I like you!"

	"See how easy that was? Now lie down and go to sleep. We'll start
bright and early about thinking of ways to get Uncle Dean and Uncle Cyrus
to write a new show!"

	"Could I hug you good night?"

	"Yes, but suppose our dicks touch in the process?"

	"I trust you..."

	"All right."

	Ronnie turned over to face Trent as they moved toward one another
across the king-sized bed. Trent put out his arms and finagled a way to get
them around Ronnie's back and the two hugged. Trent trembled when he felt
their chests merge and in a few seconds, both of them had instant erections
and THEY touched. Trent felt the new sensation and didn't pull back. He
moved his pelvis even closer to Ronnie's until their thighs were in
complete contact with the other's.

	"Want me to kiss you good night?" Ronnie whispered.

	"Yes, please."

	Slowly their lips merged and Trent heaved a huge sigh of
acceptance. Without a word being uttered, the two boys began to make love
as if they had belonged together since birth. Ronnie rolled Trent over on
his back while he got on top of Trent and during the next hour, Trent knew
what it felt like to be made love to by another boy. This was a perfect
ending for Trent's perfect day.

<><><><><><><><><>

(To be continued in 'Echoes From A Wishing Well', chapter three.)