Gramps thought the conversation was about Jay's heritage?

'So much for him making this easy,' he thought. 'But it's nice to know that the color of Jay's skin isn't a problem.'

Michael took a deep breath and slowly exhaled-an exercise that his counselor taught him to help with anxiety. As it was, he wouldn't be this calm if it hadn't been for the medication he'd taken earlier. He only used it sparingly, fearing addiction, but it was such a sweet relief not to feel like climbing the walls from the least bit of stress.

Closing his eyes, he visited the old fishing hole he'd so loved as a kid. The Michael in his memory picked up a flat rock and skipped it across the calm surface of the water that shone brightly in the summer sun, breathing deeply of the phantom honeysuckles that flourished, without dying, in his sweetest memories. Then he smiled, calm and somewhat relaxed. He opened his eyes to find his grandfather watching expectantly.

"I wasn't talking about his ancestry, Grandpa," Michael said quietly.

"Well, then what are you talking about?"

Damn. He really wasn't going to make it easy after all. He should expected as much. "I'm talking about his orientation, Gramps. You do know he's gay, right?"

The old man sighed, looking defeated. "I was afraid you'd bring that up sooner or later," he confessed.

"So, you do know, right?"

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to ignore, especially when I send him to town in my truck to buy feed and six people call asking what that 'faggot' is doing in my pickup. You know how people are." Gramps shrugged his shoulders. "Some folks just ain't got no manners and never learned to mind their own business."

His grandfather leaned in, looking him pointedly in the eyes. "But not a doggone one of those people called to check on me and Eileen when my back went out, and not a one of them offered to lend a hand. The only help we got was your mama, your sister, that 'Mexican faggot,' as they call him, and all the friends he and Angie brought with 'em. They got the hay in, tended the crops, and picked apples until I was up and around again. So those old busybodies' words don't hold a bit of weight with me. A man's actions prove who he is, not his words."

His sermon having been delivered, the old man collapsed back onto the couch, wearing a look that dared anyone to naysay him now that he had spoken his mind.

Michael had always admired his grandpa. For a fairly simple man, he had a gentle wisdom that couldn't be denied. But even though what he thought of Jay had been well stated, he hadn't answered the obvious question. "Well, what do you think about him being gay?"

The old man sighed. "I try not to, to be honest. I know what the Bible says and I firmly believe every word in there. But then I see this nice young man that'd do anything for anybody, one of the best men I've ever known, and it confuses me. He ain't a bad man; I've never seen him hurt nobody. Goodness knows what a blessing he's been to me, your grandmamma, and your mama. He also keeps an eye out for Angie." His grandfather shook his head slowly back and forth. "Beats me how I'm supposed to condemn somebody like that. So I pray about it some, but mostly I just try not to think about it. Works better that way," he said sadly.

Surprised that his cagey old grandpa seemed to have forgotten what he had alluded to earlier, Michael softly reminded him, "Gramps, I'm like Jay.

The old man shook his head sadly again, appearing unsurprised. "Ain't telling me nothing I ain't figured out a long time back. I knew we'd probably have this conversation sooner or later. Been doing a lot of praying 'bout that, too. Hoping I was wrong."

"You knew?" Michael had only fully believed it himself recently, how in the world could this old man, whom he used to feel was helplessly out of touch with the modern world, have known before he did? "How did you know?"

"I saw the way you were when you was dating Bruce Dunwoody's daughter. I remember how I looked at your grandmamma when I was young and you weren't looking at that girl like that. It was more like you looked at a friend, not like you were s'pose to look at the love of your life. At first I thought that maybe she just wasn't the one, but I pay attention and I seen things. I don't have had the best book learning, but I know people, and I watch 'em and learn. Though I was hoping I was wrong; looks like I wasn't."

Michael whispered softly, terrified of the answer even though the man was being rational so far, "Do you still love me, Gramps?"

With a look of horror on his face, his grandfather exclaimed, "Love you? Now why wouldn't I love you?"

"Well, now you know what I am, and you grew up believing it's wrong-that I'm wrong…"

"Son, the only thing that changed betwixt an hour ago and this minute is that now I know. No more speculating - I know for sure. One thing I've learned from watching people is that if you try to be something you're not, it ain't gonna do nothing but make you miserable and get you into trouble."

"So, you're all right with it?"

With a stern look the old man told him, "I don't understand it and maybe I never will. But you're my grandson and you're a good man. I can't tell you how it killed me inside when we thought we'd lost you. I can't swear to you that I won't stop hoping that it's something you'll grow out of, but I can promise to try my best to understand and to be there for you, like I always have."

"Will you have a problem with me and Jay being more than just friends?"

Gramps sighed. "I guess if that's the way the wind is gonna blow you could do a whole lot worse. Like I said, he's a good man, even if the folks around here call him names. I just ask that you don't flaunt it in front of me and your grandmamma. I'm afraid I'd have to draw the line there, boy."

"That's fair enough and more than I'd even hoped for," Michael responded, relieved that things had gone well after all.

"Well, I think it's fair. Your sister ain't allowed to be all public with her beaus when she's here, either."

"That's true. I love you, Grandpa. I appreciate how understanding you're being." Michael leaned in and gave the old man a heartfelt hug.

"I love you, too, son." As Michael drew back away from him, the old man pinned him with his eyes, speaking slowly and clearly. "You know it ain't gonna be easy. Folks in this town can be pretty mean when they want to. Don't like anyone that ain't like them. Don't like them that are much, either. They could make trouble for you, you know that, right?"

"Yessir, I know that. But I'm thinking it might be worth it." He smiled then, letting his happiness show for the first time since the conversation began.

"Does he make you happy?"

"Yes, Grandpa."

"Then that's all I can ask." The old man turned away and loudly called, "Y'all can come in now and stop listening at the door."

The door swung open and three people stood there with sheepish grins on their faces, obviously guilty of the eavesdropping they'd been accused of. The fourth person had a bewildered expression on her weathered face. She slowly crossed the floor toward her husband, her eyes darting back and forth between him and her grandson. "Aaron?"

Gramps smiled and took a gnarled, delicate hand in his larger, work-worn one. "I'll fill ya in later, Eileen. I think right now we're about ready for some pie, don't you?"