Date: Sat, 4 Aug 2012 20:47:23 -0700 From: B.E. Kelley Subject: The Foundling Chapter 4 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 4: Sights and Decisions While I slept, Sheriff Hayes built an ironclad case against Joe Harper. The Sheriff was a good cop but Harper's inherent stupidity did most of the work for him. When Jimmy returned from Judge Donovan's house with the search warrant, he and the Sheriff prepared to dismantle Harpers truck, in search of evidence. All they really had to do was look in the glove compartment, that's where they found the .44 Magnum that Joe Harper used to murder my father, in a motel room, in a remote northern New Hampshire village. Once they had the gun, the Sheriff and his deputies tested Harpers hands and, sure enough, they found powder burns, indicating that he had fired a gun in the last 48 hours. They compared his fingerprints to prints taken from the motel room and discovered that they were a 17 point match. Gladys and Jerry, from Pop's Diner, were interviewed by Jimmy, they confirmed the story I'd told the Sheriff. By the time Sheriff Hayes sat down to question him, Joe Harper had sobered up and the Sheriff had collected enough evidence to ensure a conviction in court. It had taken less than five hours. Harper was seated at a plain wooden table in a windowless room at the Sheriff's office. When he wasn't drinking, which was rare, he had a relatively mild personality and was easily cowed by his current surroundings. Sheriff Hayes couldn't help but note how pathetic he looked, as he entered the interrogation room. "Ed, can you let me out of here already, I've got a splitting headache," said Harper. "Can't do that Joe, we've got some things to talk about," said the Sheriff. "Look, you know the drill, I went over to Pop's, had a few too many and went for a drive, just site me and let me go home," said Harper. "You recognize this man or this boy?" asked the Sheriff, handing Harper a blow up of my dad's driver's license picture and the picture of me from my dad's briefcase. "They look sorta familiar," said Joe, studying the photographs, "Who are they?" "That's Ben Tyson Jr. and his son, Benji," said Sheriff Hayes. "Cute kid, but I don't think I know them," said Harper, "What's this about?" "You got a little drunk Friday night, made a bit of a scene over at the diner," said Sheriff Hayes. "Oh yeah, now I recognize that guy, that's the city prick that got all up in my face," said Harper, smugly. "According to Gladys and Jerry, you were raising hell and this guy asked you to leave, even offered to pay your tab," said Sheriff Hayes. "Yeah, yeah it's coming back to me now," said Harper, "Look, I'm sorry if I ruffled city boy's feathers, you want me to go apologize to Jerry for hassling his customers or what?" "I'm afraid it's a bit more serious then that Joe," said Sheriff Hayes, as he laid another picture on the table. "Jesus Christ Ed," said Joe, looking at the picture. The picture was of my father, taken the morning his body was found, his handsome face contorted by shock, blood spattered on his cheeks, a pair of gaping holes in his chest from where the bullets had struck, ending his life. "You take a good look at that picture Joe, you let that sink in and tell me if you remember anything else about that night," said Sheriff Hayes. "I-I-I," stuttered Joe. "I got you dead to rights Joe; I got witnesses that say you confronted Mr. Tyson, I got finger prints and I got the murder weapon that I found in your glove compartment, registered in your name, not to mention the powder burns on your hands" said Sheriff Hayes. Joe Harper looked around the room frantically, the Sheriff watched as he finally found the wastebasket and dove for it just in time. Harper wretched into the trash and hung his head in the basket, heaving until his stomach was completely empty. "What about the boy?" asked Harper, his face still in the wastebasket. "What about him?" asked the Sheriff. "Is, is he dead?" said Harper. "No, the last thing his daddy did was force him out the window. He broke his arm and hit his head, trying to get away from that motel room. Last I saw him, he was crying so hard Doc Prescott had to knock him out," said Sheriff Hayes. "Oh thank God," said Harper, taking some comfort from the fact that at least he hadn't also killed a child. "I-I think I need a lawyer," said Joe, when his eyes met Sheriff Hayes. Sheriff Hayes officially charged Joe Harper with murder, read him his rights and put him back in his cell to wait for the Public Defender. Harper could be heard wailing into his pillow as he was overcome with guilt, he'd taken a human life and in so doing, destroyed his own. Sheriff Hayes called the Prescott's and shared the developments with George. "Jesus Ed, you're sure about all this?" said George. "Positive Doc, the evidence was all there waiting for us, drunken fool didn't even think to ditch the gun," the Sheriff explained. "So what happens now?" asked George. "Harper doesn't have a dime to his name, Public Defender will be here soon, five bucks says he recommends Old Joe pleads guilty," said the Sheriff. "And that's it?" said George. "Pretty much," said the Sheriff, "He'll be arraigned, judge will ask him for his plea, he pleads guilty, the judge will set a date for sentencing, that'll be that." "I never heard of the wheels of justice spinning so quickly," said George. "Yeah well, you tell that boy, for what it's worth, we got the son of a bitch that killed his daddy and he's gonna do some hard time," said the Sheriff. "Thanks Ed, I'm sure that will bring him some comfort," said the Sheriff. Finally, I woke up, it was after 10am and I just couldn't sleep anymore. The first thing I saw when my eyes opened; was Jamie, bending over to pull his pants up. I couldn't help but smile at his cute little butt, pointing straight at me in his tighty whities. I climbed out of bed and stretched, my body was stiff from sleeping so long. "Good morning Benji," said Jamie, "How do you feel today?" Before I could answer, Jamie started giggling. "Oh, I see," He chuckled. Puzzled, I followed his eyes and looked down, that's when I discovered I was hard. I blushed a deep shade of crimson. "Don't be embarrassed, it's just a boner," smiled Jamie. "It uh, just happens sometimes," I stuttered. "I know, look I got one to," said Jamie. I looked down, he hadn't buttoned or zipped his jeans yet and there was definitely something tenting his undies. Jamie walked over and brazenly slipped his finger into my waistband and pulled back so that he could look into my underpants. "Looks like yours is a little bigger than mine," smiled Jamie, letting my waistband snap back against my tummy. "Uh, yeah, I guess so, um, can I take a shower?" I asked, still blushing. "Sure, its' right through there," said Jaime, pointing to a door that I had thought was a closet until now. "You want me to wait for you, you know, to help you get dressed?" said Jamie. "Um," I began, than looked at my wrist and its cumbersome fiberglass cast, "Yes please." "Cool, I'll wait here," said Jaime, flopping back on his bed, his pants still open. I smiled a little and walked into the bathroom, shaking my head. I'd never met someone so infectiously happy before. As miserable as I was, Jamie still found a way to make me smile and the funny thing about it was he wasn't even trying, he was just being himself. I was also surprised by how bold he was, the way he'd stood there with his boner pointing proudly ahead and how he'd just helped himself to a look at mine. There was still a tinge of blush on my cheeks as I stripped and climbed into the shower. I don't know how long it was since my last shower but the hot water running over my body felt like it was washing away a year's dirt and grime. Or maybe that's just how I felt as the victim of a crime. I read somewhere once that victims often feel dirty, that washing is part of the healing process, whatever the case, the shower felt good. When I was finished, I dried myself off, then wrapped the towel around my waist, when I walked back into the bedroom, Jamie was fully dressed and bouncing happily at the end of his bed. Jamie watched me intently and the smile never left his face as I dropped my towel, put on my underwear and pulled up my jeans. I put on a t-shirt and a button down and then had to have Jamie help me. While he buttoned my shirt and zipped up my pants, I realized that these were my actual clothes, not something barrowed. The Sheriff's office must have delivered my bag while I slept. "I'm real sorry about your dad, Benji," said Jamie, "but I'm glad you can talk now." I listened to his words and choked back another sob, I was done crying, at least for now. I knew I would have to bury my father and that more tears would come, but right now, I had to be strong in order to figure out my next move. "Thanks, Jamie, you know, for everything," I replied. He flashed me another smile and then I followed him downstairs. When we walked into the kitchen, Nancy hugged me, then she and George led me into the study. They sat me on the couch, between the two of them, and George told me about Joe Harper's arrest. "When will he be sentenced?" I asked. "I don't know," said George, "He still has to be arraigned and the Sheriff was only speculating when he said he expected him to plead guilty, but if that's how it works out, I'd say a couple of weeks." "I want to be there when that happens," I stated coldly. "Benji, are you sure you want to do that, you've been through so much already, you don't have to ever see him again if you don't want to," said Nancy. "I don't want to see him but I have to be there, I want to say something for my father, I owe him that much," I sniffled. Nancy took me in her arms once more and rocked me while I cried a little. "Ben," George interrupted, a few moments later. "Benji," I corrected him, "M-my dad was Ben, I've always been Benji." "Ok, Benji it is," George smiled, gently, "there is something else we'd like to discuss with you." "Ok," I agreed, somewhat meekly. "The Sheriff says that you don't have any family," said George. "No, no one, they're all gone," I sighed; Nancy patted me on the shoulder. "What about your dad's friends," George continued, "do you know if there is anyone we should contact, anyone who would want to raise you?" "Does the Sheriff have my dad's cell phone; that has all of the important numbers in it, you'll find his lawyer there, but I don't know about anyone who would want me," I sighed, then wiped a few tears away. "Well, that's what we wanted to talk to you about," said Nancy, "If there isn't anyone else that you'd rather be with, would you like to stay with us? I know you don't know us well but at least you'd be close to your family, so to speak." "Y-you'd do that for me?" I asked, somewhat surprised, after all, I was a virtual stranger to them. "We adopted Dylan and Jamie when they needed someone to take care of them, we would be happy to do the same for you," George smiled. I was a little overcome by their gesture, it was so altruistic, so selfless, they hardly knew me but they wanted to take care of me. "I-I don't know what to say, that's very nice of you but..." I started. "It's ok, if you'd rather be somewhere else, we completely understand," said Nancy. "No, it's not that, it's just, this is all happening so fast," I replied. "We understand, why don't you take some time and think it over," George offered. "Ok, thank you, thank you so much, that really means a lot to me," I answered. George and Nancy hugged me between them and then led me back to the kitchen for breakfast. We ate as a family, I was quiet but I did get a kick out of watching Dylan and Jamie banter back and forth. Even through their teasing, it was clear that they loved each other very much. In fact the whole family was like that, there was so much care and concern for each other, having been alone with just my father for so long, I sort of forgot what that felt like. It made my heart feel warm, it felt good. After breakfast, George had to run over to the hospital to check on some of his patients, Dylan and Jamie asked me if I wanted a tour of the grounds but I told them maybe later, so they went out to toss the football in the frigid air. George and Nancy had given me a lot to think about and I turned to the one familiar thing I had in this house, something that had always helped to put my mind at ease, the piano. My fingers danced across the keys and I thought about my life and where I stood. My father's death left me an orphan; I had no one to take me in, no family to speak of and no one that I could picture my father leaving me to. The only people that came to mind were my "Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Brian." They weren't really my aunt and uncle, Brian Blair had been my father's best friend since college. The only problem with them was they'd moved to Switzerland about 6 months prior and I knew I didn't want to go there. The Prescott's offer appealed to me, they were clearly good people, Dylan and Jamie both seemed like well adjusted, happy boys, and like they said, I'd be close to my family. This town bore my name, my ancestors were buried here, my grandfather, my mother, and there was no doubt that this was where I would bury my father. In many ways, I felt like this was where I belonged, not back at Choate, not back in New York. I was born and raised in Manhattan but as I sat there, thinking and tinkering with the piano, I realized that aside from my mother teaching me to play, this was where I had my happiest memories. I loved my father more then I could ever express in words and I know I'll grieve his loss for the rest of my life, but I also missed having a family. When mom died, it was so lonely in our home, dad took time off to be with me but it never felt like enough, and that wasn't his fault, dad's work, it's what they do. Then grandpa died and we were truly alone. I got used to it over time, my father and I were incredibly close, and I forgot what it felt like to be part of something bigger then yourself. George and Nancy were offering me what I once had and more, they were ready to fill the gap left by the death of my parents and they would give me an older and a younger brother, something I'd longed for since I'd been a little boy. I remembered how excited I used to get when we'd drive up here to see my grandfather. I remembered him playing with me and telling me stories about his childhood. Wild stories about the rugged New Hampshire wilderness that always smacked of tall tales but that he swore were true. I remembered my father coming up here, shedding his tie and being more relaxed than he ever was at our home in the city. This was a place of good thoughts, of happy memories; this was where I wanted to be. This was no decision to be made lightly, I would think about it over the next few days, but part of me knew that I wanted to say yes the moment the Prescott's had made their offer. I was so focused on my piano playing that I didn't sense Nancy coming up behind me until she tapped on my shoulder, causing me to jump. "Did I scare you?" she smiled. "I didn't hear you come in," I replied, sheepishly. "Come on, I want you to come to town with me," said Nancy, outstretching her hand. I took her hand in mine and it felt warm, reassuring, and safe. She led me out to the foyer, where we pulled on our coats, and then we got into the car and headed for town. "Where are we going, why aren't Dylan and Jamie coming with us?" I asked. "Well sweetheart, George called while you were playing the piano," said Nancy, "The coroner is going to release your father's body and arrangements have to be made for his service." "Oh," I replied quietly. "Don't worry, George and I will take care of all the arrangements. I'm assuming you'd like your father buried next to your mom and grandpa?" said Nancy. "Yeah." "I thought you might like to talk to the minister, so you can tell him a little about your dad and what you'd like him to say," Nancy explained. "Ok," I agreed. "I know it's soon honey but I thought it would be best to do it now, while you're thinking about all those things that meant the most to you, we can reschedule if you like," said Nancy. "No, you're right, this is just something I have to do," I said, wiping my eyes, "it's always going to hurt no matter what, better to get it over with now." "My sweet brave boy," said Nancy, reaching over and patting my hand, "I promise I'll be right there by your side." "Thanks Mrs. Prescott," I replied. "Oh no you don't," Nancy smiled. "Uh, I'm sorry," I said, flashing her a confused stare. "When I hear Mrs. Prescott I start looking for my mother-in-law, if you expect me to pay attention its Nancy or mom, whichever makes you most comfortable," she smiled. "Oh, ok Nancy," I smiled back. I appreciated the way she defused the moment for me. I was starting to get upset from all the funeral talk and her little joke lightened the atmosphere just enough to put me at ease. It also settled a little dilemma, Mr. and Mrs. Prescott didn't sound right but I didn't know what else to call them, now I knew, George and Nancy would be fine for now, and when and if I felt comfortable, Mom and Dad. My thoughts were interrupted as we pulled in front of the church and Nancy parked the car. I knew this church and it's minister, Miles Wesley, very well. I'd attended services here as a boy, on weekend visits to Tyson's Corner and more recently, for the funerals of my mother and grandfather. "I'm so sorry about your dad Benji," said Reverend Wesley, "He was a good and honest man and he will be sorely missed. How are you holding up?" "I'm ok Reverend Wesley, George and Nancy are taking good care of me," I replied. "I'm glad to hear that. Have you given any thought as to what you'd like me to say during your father's service." "I haven't had much time to think about it, what do you think should be said?" I asked. "I want to talk about what a good and decent man your father was. I want to mention how generous he and your family have always been to this town and talk about what he was like as a boy, growing up here," said Reverend Wesley. "That sounds ok," I sniffled. The minster looked down at me, placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. "I'd like to talk about how much he loved your mother and how proud he was of the man you're becoming," said the Minister. "I hope he felt that way," I replied. "Of course he did my son, I spoke with your father often, and he was always very proud of your achievements," said Reverend Wesley. "I had no idea you talked to him," I explained. "Oh yes, usually a couple of times a month," said the Reverend, "I know you live in New York but this has always been your father's hometown, I think he liked keeping in touch and staying on top of local affairs." "Yeah, I guess you're right," I agreed, feeling more confident about my decision to stay here in town. "Do you think you'd like to speak Benji?" asked Reverend Wesley. "Gee, I don't know," I hadn't thought that far ahead. "I think it would be a fitting tribute, no one knew him better then you." "Can I think about it?" I asked, "I'm not sure I can get through that." "I know this is an incredibly difficult time for you, why don't we plan for that and if you're up to it, you're up to it, if not, I'll just open the floor to anyone who would like to offer a kind word," said the Minister. I told him that sounded fine, then let he and Nancy talk about the other arrangements such as music, scheduling, flowers and so forth. They didn't notice as I slipped out of the church and into the cemetery that adjoined it. I followed the line of tombstones baring the Tyson name, until I came to the two I was looking for. Despite the cold, I sat between my mother and grandfather, resting my back against my mother's tombstone while I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. I hid my face in my knees and cried a little, I don't know how long I sat there but eventually I felt a hand on my shoulder. I assumed it was Nancy, but I got the shock of my life when I looked up. "Mom!" I exclaimed. "Yes my darling," she smiled warmly. She wasn't wearing a flowing white gown, there was no halo, in fact, she looked like she had the last time I'd seen here. She was dressed in her winter coat, but there was no sign of the damage caused by the accident that had taken her life, if anything she looked young, almost exuberant. "I must be losing my mind," I muttered. "No darling, you're not crazy," she laughed. "W-what are you doing here?" I asked. "We're waiting for someone," said a man's voice, as my grandpa appeared next to her. "We wanted to let you know that everything will be ok," said my mom. "Dad's dead," I said, sadly. "We know," said mom. "But don't worry, he'll be here soon," said grandpa, looking at the open space next to his grave. "I miss him, I miss you all," I sniffled. "It's alright sweetheart," said mom, "we're always with you, your father will be to." "I've been so lonely since you died." "Don't worry son, you're never alone, we're always with you," said Grandpa. "You mean you've been watching me?" I asked. "Not always, but when we aren't, we're always here," said mom, patting my chest. "What am I supposed to do now?" I asked. "Only you know that, but we'll always be here for you," said mom. "The Prescott's seem really nice, they offered to take me in," I said. "I knew George Prescott's father, he was a good man, I bet his son is too," said Grandpa. "Listen to your heart, it will lead you down the right path," said mom. "I wish I could stay here with you," I whined. "No son, this isn't your place, you have a long life ahead of you and many things yet to accomplish," said mom, "but it's time for you to wake up, it's cold out here." My grandfather patted my shoulder, my mom kissed me on the forehead, her lips felt as cold as the snow I was sitting in. Then, all too quickly, they vanished into the wind, just as quietly as they'd come. "Benji, Benji," said Nancy, as she gently shook me. "Huh, what," I muttered, coming to wakefulness. "What are you doing out here?" she asked. "I-I came to see my mom and grandpa, I uh, guess I nodded off," I blushed, sheepishly. "Well, come on, we don't want you to freeze out here," said Nancy, offering me her hand and helping me to my feet. I got up and followed her to the car, as I was about to climb into the passenger seat, I looked back, half expecting my family to wave goodbye. I'm not sure if it was real or just a dream but I believed what they said, that they were always in my heart and that gave me strength. I was quiet the rest of the day and most of the evening. Everyone assumed that I was thinking about what to say at my father's funeral and didn't bother me with questions until bedtime. Nancy and George tucked us in and then Nancy sat on the edge of my bed. "Have you come up with anything you want to say?" she asked. "I've been thinking about it, but I'm still not sure," I replied. "Can I offer a suggestion?" she asked. "Sure, that would be helpful," I answered. "Well, you're a very gifted pianist, you could play that piano even when you couldn't speak," said Nancy. "Yeah, I guess so," I replied, waiting for her to make her point. "I think it would be nice if you played a song for your dad." "I can do that?" I exclaimed. "Of course, you can do anything you want," said Nancy. "Ok, that gives me a lot to think about, thanks Nancy." "You're welcome sweetheart," said Nancy, before kissing me on the forehead and shutting the door. Nancy had given me a lot to think about. I wasn't the world's best public speaker and when I talked about my dad, I inevitably broke down and started crying. I didn't want to do that, even if no one showed up I didn't want to let my dad down. Even if I did start to cry, I'd still be able to finish a song, I don't know how I do it but all I have to do is hear a song once and I somehow commit it to memory, I'd be able to play no matter how upset I got. I lie there, thinking about music, thinking of a piece that would express all the feelings I was experiencing, while staring out the window. The moon was bright that night and it illuminated the pine trees, the wind blowing puffs of snow off their branches. The image made me think of running through the woods the night my father was killed and I started to tense. "Hey Jamie, are you awake?" I whispered. "Yeah," he replied. "Would you mind um, maybe sleeping in my bed?" I asked. "Sure," he chirped. Jamie didn't waste any time, he jumped out of his bed and hopped into mine. He was snuggled up next to me so quickly, I barely had time to move over. I was glad he'd agreed to sleep with me, his presence was comforting and I instantly began to relax. Jamie seemed to sense the tension in my body and set about lightening the mood. "Hey Benji," he whispered. "What?" "I got a boner," Jamie giggled. "Jamie you crack me up," I snickered. Jamie laughed but then humped himself against me a couple of times. That was a new and interesting development but I wrote it off as Jamie being silly. I slept soundly that night, once again grateful for the little blond at my side.