---

Toward the end of the week of final exams for the seniors, Brant finished practicing the piece he and Randy were to perform at graduation and went downstairs for dinner. During the meal, he brushed the sheaf of hair from his forehead.

"I thought I told you to get a hair cut!" His father snapped.

"I haven't had time with exams," Brant replied. Absently, he brushed the hair back again.

"What the hell is that!" He grabbed a hand-full of hair and jerked his son closer to look at the earring. "You look like a goddamn queer!"

His mother started to speak, attracting her husband's wrath. "Don't open your mouth! If you and my sister hadn't been so damned insistent he take piano, he wouldn't be such a sissy."

"But, dad, a lot of guys wear them now."

"Bunch of fairies! You're going to get rid of it right now."

Brant shook his head. "Not unless Randy does. We promised each other."

"I might have known! It just proves how a fine old family can go to hell. Imagine a man of von den Acker's status marrying a worthless Indian." He shook a finger in Brant's face. "You're not going to see that disgusting half-breed again. I forbid it. Now get that damn thing off your ear or I'll do it for you."

Enraged when Brant failed to move, he reached over and snatched the ring from his ear. Brant screamed as the wire cut through his earlobe. Blood flowed down his jaw, dripping on his shirt and the tablecloth. His father stared transfixed at the bloody object clutched between his thumb and finger.

Brant sprang up, his chair bouncing off the wall. "Damn you! I am queer!"

"Get out of this house, you filthy cripple pervert!" The scream followed him out the door. "I hope I never lay eyes on you again!"

At the curb he paused momentarily, then turned towards Randy's. He ran until he sagged against the closed gate, his head aching, his torn ear still oozing drops of blood, his stump a mass of stabbing pain from the pounding of the ill fitting leg. Blinded by tears, hands trembling, he fumbled with his key unable to fit it in the switch. He managed to press the buzzer before slumping semi-conscious to the sidewalk.

Randy and his father had eaten dinner together at the faculty club and were enjoying the leisurely drive back home when Randy gave a sudden jerk and sat rigidly, his eyes unfocused. After a few seconds he grabbed his father's arm. "Something's wrong at home. Hurry."

As his foot pressed against the accelerator, von den Acker remembered another occasion when he and Randy had left the house for dinner at the club. He had driven only a few blocks when Randy had suddenly cried out, "Go back home, dad. There's a fire."

There was no sign as they turned into the drive. When his father started to admonish him, Randy was sitting expressionless, glassy-eyed, then with a sudden jerk he looked at his father. "It's inside," he said, and jumped out of the car.

When they entered the house, he could hear the old furnace roaring. He raced to the pantry and tripped the circuit breaker, while Randy dialed 911. As he and Randy waited outside, he looked up to see heavy clouds of black smoke billowing from the chimney. After the excitement was over, the fire chief mentioned how fortunate it was that they had noticed before the fire spread from the chimney to the house itself.

Questioned after the belated dinner, Randy said that he had a feeling that something was amiss and had entered his spirit body and flown over the house, seeing the smoke. Asked how he had accomplished that, he'd merely smiled at his father and said, "I learned from the Shaman."

Intrigued, von den Acker questioned colleagues in the university's parapsychology department who studied such phenomenon. Though they were unable to offer any specific data, he kept an open mind about the psychic ability of the Shamans and those who studied Indian medicine, because he had witnessed occasional events that could be explained no other way. He did not question Randy further, knowing he would not answer since even a vague reference to his psychic ability made him extremely uncomfortable. But from that time on he paid close attention to his son's warnings.

As he slowed and pressed the button to open the gate, he noticed Dammit, head pushed between the bars, howling. When the gate opened enough, the husky squeezed through to crouch over the crumpled figure and began to bark furiously. Randy jumped from the car.

"It's Brant! He's hurt bad!" He laid Brant on the back seat, cradling his bloody head in his lap as his father ignored speed limits and ran stoplights when possible.

After taking two tiny stitches in the torn ear, wrapping the battered stump, and having the nurse clean Brant up, the physician permitted Randy to carry Brant back to the car. A look from his father kept him from asking questions until Brant lay semi-conscious in bed after swallowing more pain medication.

"Who did this to you?" von den Acker asked quietly.

"Dad," Brant mumbled.

"For what, for Christ's sake?"

"He saw my earring. He tore it out of my ear then threw me out of the house." Brant's eyes teared again as he reached for Randy's hand. "I'm sorry."

Anguish covered Randy's face. "Oh, God! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble, my brother."

"Randall," his father's voice cut harshly, "what's this all about?"

"It wasn't anything."

Brant broke in. "I took it seriously and so did you."

"But I didn't think your old man would be a sonofabitch about it." He looked plaintively at his father. "I got the rings to remind us we're brothers. Honestly, I didn't mean to cause Brant any trouble."

His father gave him a chary smile. "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt Brant, son. You've worn one of your mother's studs ever since she died," he saw his son's look of surprise, "because you wanted something of hers with you, to feel her near, just as the ring was something of Brant. I'm sorry this rebounded on him." He looked at the drugged boy. "Let him get some rest."

"Stay with me, Randy." Brant mumbled.

Randy stripped and slipped into bed, fearful of hurting him, but Brant snuggled against him, fading into a drugged sleep.

Meanwhile, von den Acker paced his study, a stiff drink in hand. He had maintained a calm facade for Brant's sake though he was in a tightly controlled fury. He smiled grimly at a thought of the pleasure his hands around Brant's father's throat would bring. Well past midnight and several drinks later he relaxed enough to go to bed.

Brant lay in deep sleep the next morning when Randy slipped from the bed to join his father at breakfast.

His father set the morning paper aside and waited for Randy to seat himself. "I think we should talk about what's happened before making any decisions, son, because it's more than just Brant. We're involved, too."

"But what's he going to do if we don't help him?"

"I don't know. What do you wish?"

"He's my brother. I've got to take care of him."

"I know, son, and because of that I want you and Brant to be happy. If you feel deeply that this relationship is right, then I'm pleased it's with someone who loves you as Brant apparently does. Yet, I'm fearful of Petersen's reaction when he finds out. If he got this violent over something as small as one earring, I shudder to think. Have you given that any thought?"

"Not really."

"Then start by being more careful about physical contact in public. It's something few will accept, especially religious fanatics. Helen, I know, would try to understand, but you know how Hank raves and I'd hate to see your relationship with your godfather ruined. I also fear it might affect Brant's studies with him. As much as I like and respect Hank, he has an unreasoned hatred of gays. I doubt he would ever be able to reconcile himself to the relationship you and Brant share, despite his affection and regard for you both."

"It isn't fair."

"I agree, but it's reality, none the less. If you wish to talk with someone other than me, I'll be happy to ask the counselor of the gay students group at the university to work with you and Brant. He's helped several former students of mine work out some of their problems."

"Thanks, dad."

"Now, what about your exams?"

Randy shook his head. "We've had them all except 'Civ.' It's this afternoon."

"If Brant feels able, do you feel up to taking him? Without his crutches, you'll have to carry him unless you stop somewhere and buy him another pair."

"I can carry him. I did it before. What about the awards program?"

"Let's see how this goes first. Fix something for Brant. I'll be along in a few minutes."

Brant was finishing his breakfast when von den Acker entered Randy's room. "I have a note from the doctor who treated you. Shall I get your exam postponed?"

"No, please. I want to get it over with. I feel a lot better."

"As you wish. I'll go over some of the material with you."

He reviewed the essentials of the course with them until he was satisfied both boys would write a good exam. After telling them to relax until the scheduled time, he left for his office.

Only Ms Phillips was in the classroom when Randy carried Brant in. She backed away, eyes wide with horror at the sight of the dangling jeans leg, the discolored ear against which the black silk stitches stood out starkly.

"What have you done to him!" She screamed at Randy. "Go to the office right now!"

"He didn't do it." Brant said quickly. "He's taking care of me."

She looked at him doubtfully. "He is? Then who ...? Was it here at school?"

"No," Brant mumbled.

"But surely ..."

"Please. Just let us take the exam."

"You're in no condition to take it. You may take it later when you feel better."

"I'm okay. I've studied for it."

"He really is, Ms Phillips. He wouldn't be here if dad didn't think it was okay."

"Well ..." she paused in thought, "the room next door isn't being used. I'll put you in there, that way you won't distract the others. You may begin now rather than waiting."

When they were seated in the adjoining room, she handed them copies of the exam. "Randall, I apologize. I ..."

"That's okay."

Helped by the review with Randy's father, they both completed the exam well before anyone else and left the building.

When Randy neared Brant's house without slowing, Brant asked him to stop, wishing he could avoid it.

"I need my crutches and some clothes. If mother's home she'll probably make me stay. You don't have to come in."

"How're you going to get in if I don't carry you?"

"Oh, Jeez. I forgot. She'll probably bitch a lot."

Randy scowled. "She'd better not try to hand me any shit."

They were half way up the stairs before she appeared in the hall below. "What are you doing here?" She demanded of Randy.

"Carrying Brant to his room to get some stuff."

When Randy sat Brant on his bed, she gasped at his stitched ear. "My God, you did have your ear pierced. I thought it was a clip-on. Why was he carrying you? Where's your leg?"

"Dad took him to the infirmary. They fixed his ear, but he hurt his stump getting to our place, so he can't use the leg for a while," Randy growled.

She regarded him with a sour expression. "Your father takes an undue interest in my son, and you've been nothing but a bad influence on him ever since we moved here. Your friendship is unhealthy, but I should have expected as much from a heathen. Now get out!"

Randy struggled with his temper. "Native Americans aren't heathens! I was baptized and confirmed at Saint Michael's. Besides, Brant and I are brothers."

"Brothers! I'd have an abortion before I'd have a half-breed like you."

"Yeah? Well it's a damn good thing somebody cares enough about him to help him when he needs it."

"Don't you dare speak to me that way! Get out of this house!" She shrieked.

During the exchange, Brant had picked up his crutches and pushed some clothing hurriedly into his backpack. He turned to his mother, eyes blazing. "If Sequoyah goes, so do I."

"You're not going anywhere, especially with him. Sit down and shut up!"

Brant tossed the pack to Randy. "Come on."

"Brantford, you come back here this instant!"

"When you and dad decide to be reasonable," he retorted and stepped into the hall.

"I said, now!" She reached out to grab his arm, but Brant twisted. Her hand sent one of his crutches clattering down the stairs. Off balance, Brant pitched forward, but Randy dropped the pack and caught him. He glared at her and picked Brant up, carrying him down the stairs. He paused long enough to pick up the other crutch and steady Brant before retrieving the backpack and following him to the car.

Brant was restless when they went to bed, but once Randy's arm cradled him, he fell asleep. Several hours later, Randy's eyes snapped opened. He raised up on his elbows, then sat up. The dark shapes of the furnishings loomed larger than life in the pale light of the waning moon, then begin to vanish.

He felt Brant move in his sleep and looked down at him. He blinked, seeing a gray mistiness begin to rise from Brant's sleeping body. 'Not now,' he begged silently. The mist took form and drifted to the far end of the room, seeming to huddle near the floor. Randy was overwhelmed by the sadness that flowed from the now unchanging shape. Near the supplicant figure another form began to coalesce, white instead of gray, erect. As it spread its arms, the grayness of smaller figure became a pale golden glow, held its arms out and took a limping step forward. The white figure became brighter. Randy blinked his eyes again. The white figure had vanished; two different forms appeared. The cloud of darkness surrounding them extended over the smaller, extinguishing the golden glow. The form writhed in pain. Randy cringed under the feeling of hate emanating from the two darker forms. In a twinkling the dark forms vanished, the white form reappeared and absorbed into itself the dark cloud. The smaller figure began to glow and caper freely, its limping gait gone. Randy felt its joy as the forms dissipated, the room restored to its normal appearance. He looked down at Brant once more, thinking, 'Oh, little one, what's ahead for you?'

Randy lay against the pillows looking at Brant with a solemn expression. When he awoke, Randy reached down to brush aside the sheaf of hair lying across his forehead.

Brant yawned, then seeing Randy's serious expression, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Randy wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. "I had a vision last night."

"You sure it wasn't a dream?"

"Not this time. I was awake. It was about you."

"What was I doing?"

"I don't know. Soon you'll be happy, but then I saw you sad, maybe hurting."

Brant flinched. "It was bad?"

Randy shook his head. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't. The figures I saw weren't clear; they were more like ghosts. I could feel what they felt, but not what caused the feelings. Did you have a dream?"

"I think so. I don't remember what about, except I felt good at the end."

"I thought you must have, because that's when it all happened. I know one of the figures I saw was you, because I saw the spirit rise from you. I'm glad you felt good, because in my vision you were really happy at the end and you were jumping around on both legs and not limping."

"I wish I could, but there's no way I'll get my leg back."

"It could mean you'll get a good one that doesn't hurt."

"That's all I really want. When is all this supposed to happen?"

"I don't know. Sometimes what I see in a vision is slow coming."

"Even if I hurt some, I hope the happy part is real."

"It will be. I was awake. I hate some of it was bad."

"I almost wish you hadn't told me about that."

"I thought about it, but I had to share it with you, my brother." He hugged Brant. "I'll be with you, no matter what."

After Brant had been with them several days, Randy noticed that he seemed subdued, uneasy, especially around his father, but assumed it came from lingering pain and the way his parents had acted.

During the second evening he was home to eat dinner with them, Randy's father also noticed the change. "What troubles you, Brant?"

Brant avoided his eyes, looking down at his plate. "I .. I don't know what to do. It isn't right for me to keep staying here. I ... I've got to find somewhere to go, 'cause my folks don't want me any more. I called home and mom slammed the phone down soon as she heard my voice, and dad said he didn't want to see me again, ever. I wish I could talk to my aunt. Maybe she could tell me what to do. I'd like to go stay with her, but she's sick."

"Have Sequoyah or I said or done anything to make you feel unwelcome?"

"It's not that. You've been great, helping me and all."

Randy recovered from his shock. "No way I'm going to let you leave. You're my brother. I thought you loved me."

"I do, but I can't keep freeloading off you and your dad."

"I believe I told you that when Sequoyah took you as his brother you became a son to me. This is your home and I would be as upset as Sequoyah if you left. If talking with your aunt will help, please give her a call tonight."

After dinner, Brant phoned his aunt from von den Acker's study. She talked with him for a short time, then demanded to speak with Randy's father. Brant looked on in amazement as the usually forceful personality of von den Acker seemed cowed under the barrage of questions as he offered repeated assurances. Finally, he handed the phone back to Brant and left the study.

A few days later Randy brought in the mail from the box set in the gatepost and sorted through it. He handed an envelope to Brant. Brant glanced at his aunt's return address and stuck in his pocket, unopened. That evening he tapped on the study door and entered, giving the envelope to Randy's father.

He opened it and handed Brant a brief letter and a substantial cheque, then scanned the bank statement with an amazed expression before looking up at Brant. "Does your father know about this?"

"No, sir. They had a fight about something after I was born and they haven't spoken to each other since. Mom used to take me to visit her a couple of times a year, because she thought my aunt might leave them some money. She doesn't have any children, but the last time we went to see her before we moved here she told mom it would be a cold day in hell before she'd leave anything to them. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have gotten to study music."

von den Acker looked at the statement again. "This stock account is in her bank then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wasn't she afraid your father might see the bank's return address on the envelope of the statements?"

Brant grinned. "Everything went to her as my trustee. When she sent me end-of-the-year statements or money for my birthday and Christmas, she used plain envelopes and put my friend's name on it so dad or mom wouldn't know it was from her and open it. She told me not to let them see anything, so I hid it in one of my old music books. Her accountant did my taxes."

von den Acker's respect for the woman grew. "You have quite a number of shares in the bank's stock. Do you know what they're worth?"

"No, sir. Just what's in the checking account she gave me."

von den Acker switched on the computer and moved the mouse steadily for a few moments then stared at the screen while the modem made the connection. When the stock listing came up, he copied the figure and shut the computer down. His eyes narrowed as he did a rapid multiplication and told Brant the total.

"That's great. I was hoping it was enough to get the leg I want, but I didn't know it was this much."

"Then why have you put up with the pain the one you have causes you?"

"My aunt told me she read a lot about it after I had my accident and the best place was a clinic in Michigan. She wanted to take me there, but she's older than dad and not too well, so the folks wouldn't let me go when she asked me to come see her. I couldn't figure out how to go on my own without the folks finding out about the money."

"If graduation weren't so close, I'd have Sequoyah take you there now, but I think it will be best to wait until that's over, since you'll likely have to be there a few days."

He received the coveted five graduation invitations. One he sent to his parents, another to his aunt. He gave two to Randy who needed them to send to family friends who had known him since birth. The remaining invitation he had shyly given to Randy's father.

"I know you'll be there for Randy, but I ... I want to feel somebody's there for me, too. I mean I don't have anybody else but my aunt and I don't think she can come."

"I appreciate the thought, son. I hope you know that I will be there as much for you as for Sequoyah."

The next evening Randy's father referred to the note pad on his desk, picked up the phone, dialed, and engaged in a lengthy conversation. When he replaced the receiver, his face mirrored satisfaction.

The morning before the day of the awards program, he told both boys to dress for dinner and left them to continue their practice of the piece they were to play at graduation.

"I don't know why we have to dress up," Randy grumbled after his father left the music room. "I mean it's not like he said we're going out or anything."

Brant shrugged. "Maybe he's asked somebody over."

"Nah. Even if he did it'll be Hank and Helen, but he's never made me dress up for them. Oh, well, it isn't that often he asks."

That afternoon von den Acker parked the Bentley and strode into the airport arrival area. Looking at the video monitor, he checked his watch and walked quickly to the gate. Through the glass he could see the plane taxiing to the ramp. A few minutes later a regal white-haired woman, still immaculately groomed after a long trip, passed through the gateway and paused to look around, her eyes lingering on his face.

"Mrs. Halvorsen?" When she tipped her head slightly, he continued. "I'm Willem von den Acker."

"I am delighted to meet you in person, sir. It is most gracious of you to have gone to so much trouble."

"No trouble at all. I'm delighted that you have come to be with us for a few days. Brant will be thrilled to have you present at his graduation, especially in view of what has happened. I'll have a porter get your luggage."

Once they were on the highway out of the airport traffic, she spoke. "I am in your debt, Doctor von den Acker, for informing me fully of Brantford's situation."

"It may have been presumptuous of me, but I felt I had no other choice. Brant has mentioned no other relative and he appears to feel that you are the only one who cares for him."

"Quite true in both respects, unfortunately. I trust I may speak openly with you?" At his nod of assent, she continued. "Frankly, my brother is a conniving, insensitive money-grubbing ass, and his wife is worse, a self-centered, social-climbing bitch. My husband and I wanted to take Brantford and raise him as our own, but because of our ages, I'm somewhat older than my brother, and for more personal reasons, Brantford's parents wouldn't hear of it. I'm constantly amazed that he has turned out so well on his own."

"He's a delightful young man. He brought my son and me together after I behaved so unthinkingly after my wife's death. But I must ask your feelings on the relationship he and my son share. As I told you, they are unusually close, even in the context of Indian brotherhood."

"From which I infer they are gay. Don't look so shocked; I know the word. I may not be in the best of health, but I'm not senile." She smiled. "My husband was in the timber business. There are not many words I haven't heard from his logging crews, all of them much worse. But no, I would have preferred that Brantford be ... straight, I believe is the word used. However, as an anthropologist you are aware that this condition is as old as history, as anyone with knowledge of the subject would know. It appears that only in recent times society has chosen to rail against it as though it were one of the seven deadly sins. They would be better served if they put their attention on the real problems that exist. However, I digress. Do you really believe that your son and Brantford love each other completely?"

"There is no doubt in my mind that their love for each other is genuine."

"Excellent."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, sir. God knows he has received precious little love from his parents. If your son fulfills his need for love and affection and Brantford returns it, as I have no doubt that he does, then I'm pleased for the both of them. I'm not such a horrible old woman that I would deny him love regardless of where he finds it."

Von den Acker glanced at her for a moment. "For my son's sake, I must ask. Does it disturb you that my son is half Cherokee and immersed in his heritage?"

She stiffened and gave him an icy look. "That, sir, is insulting. I have a dear friend who is part Native American."

"My apologies, but my wife was, and my son still is a victim of discrimination. I had to know for my own peace of mind. Brant told me that you are an extraordinary woman. Now I must concur."

"Thank you. Brantford's letter to me with the invitation and my phone conversations with you have been a great comfort as regards his welfare. It's unheard of, in my experience, that a gentleman of your standing would have taken in someone else's child and so graciously provided a home for him."

"I must confess that it was for Sequoyah's sake and, as it has turned out, for mine as well. Had it not been for Brant, I would have been far longer in recognizing the error of my ways. I might have lost my son completely."

"Nonsense. Brantford may have sped your recognition, but you would have come to an understanding in any event. I believe we may end this discussion as we're in complete agreement. And, please, call me Olivia."

"I'm Bill to my friends, which you certainly are."

Her glance was piercing. "I shall call you Willem. Nicknames are undignified."

"Of course." For the first time in years, he was grateful for his father's insistence that he practice European manners.

When he turned into the drive, she looked at the house. "How lovely. It quite reminds me of the house my husband built when we were married. Of course, after his death, I moved into a retirement condominium. A house that large was impractical for one person."

After a maid, hired for her visit, had taken her bags, von den Acker showed her to the lift. "I trust you will wish to rest before dinner. Your maid will be in the connecting room and see to your wishes. Tea has been prepared; you have only to ring. I shall meet you at seven for dinner."

At a few minutes of seven von den Acker was waiting in the hall when Brant and Randy came down in the lift. When they entered the hall, he asked them to wait and took the lift up.

Randy scratched his head, bewildered. " Wonder why he's taking the lift? He always uses the stairs like I do."

A few minutes later they heard voices as the lift gate clanged shut.

"Good Lord! The old man has a woman with him," Randy said, watching the gate intently.

When the gate opened and his aunt stepped out, Brant's mouth dropped open. He stared at her, unbelieving.

"Is this the welcome I receive, Brantford?"

"Aunt ... Aunt Olivia? What ... what are you doing here?"

"I do believe I received an invitation from you."

"But I thought you were ill."

"So I gather. Don't I get a kiss?" She asked, inclining her head.

Recovering from his surprise, he kissed her on the cheek, then hugged her tightly. "I don't believe it. This is wonderful. Are you staying here?"

"Of course. Doctor von den Acker graciously extended his hospitality. I am being most royally entertained."

Brant turned quickly toward him. "Thank you, sir. This is the most wonderful thing anyone could have given me."

"You are entirely welcome, Brant. Now, shouldn't you introduce Sequoyah to your aunt?"

"Oh, yes, sir." He turned to his aunt. "I'm sorry, Aunt Olivia. May I present Sequoyah von den Acker."

Randy stepped forward, took her hand, and raised it to his lips. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am."

"It is my pleasure to meet a young man with such exquisite manners. If I may, your name is quite unusual."

It was Randy's turn to blush. "I'm Cherokee, ma'am. My mother named me ..."

"For the gentleman and scholar who introduced the written word into your language, if I'm not mistaken."

Randy's eyes widened. "How'd you know that?"

"I may not be an anthropologist like your father, young man, but I have studied the history of this country for many years. Before I was married, I taught American history and I have never lost my love of the subject. I continue to read a great deal. Your father's book on Native American cultures was particularly enlightening."

"You've read that?" Randy asked in surprise.

"Of course. There are several small tribes in our area and I wished to know more about them. Your father's book, while dwelling mainly on the Cherokee, provided me with some insight into current sociological aspects of Indian life." She looked at Randy's father. "I can only wish that your book had been less oriented toward the Cherokee and more inclusive of the other tribes."

"I'm sorry it didn't provide you with the information you were seeking," he replied. "It was difficult to work within the limits set by my publisher. I have enough information to turn out a series of volumes, which I may at some time in the future, but the Cherokee are my specialty. "

"I should have understood that when I saw in the bio that you are an honorary member of the Eastern Band. However, I found your work fascinating and I'm delighted to have it in my library. Were I not so forgetful, I would have brought it with me in the hope that you might favor me by inscribing it."

von den Acker flushed slightly with pleasure. "You honor me, Olivia. It's rare that one is asked to autograph a piece of research. I'll be delighted to sign one of my library plates for you to place in it, and I would like to give you a signed copy of my newest book as well."

"How very thoughtful of you. I shall treasure both." She turned back to Randy. "May I assume from the length of your beautiful hair that you are a descendent of the Long Hair clan."

Randy stared at her, surprised again. "Yes, ma'am, I'm ani-gilohi. I sure wish I could have had you for my American history teacher. The one I had didn't know the first damn thing about us, nor care." At the look he received from his father, he dropped his head and blushed again. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

She gave him a mischevious grin. "There's a hell of a lot teachers today should know which they don't."

At Randy's shocked expression, she added, "Now that we have the social amenities out of the way, we may say what we think. Am I correct, Willem?"

"Of course, Olivia. Shall we go in?"

She placed her hand on his arm and they entered the family dining room. He seated her at his right and took his place at the end. Brant sat across from his aunt, with Randy at the other end of the table. When the maid served the soup course, Randy slumped lower in his chair, bending to eat.

"Sit up, Sequoyah. It's distressing to see a tall handsome young man like yourself hunched over."

Randy jerked upright, his shock at her admonition showed. Her hand quickly flew to cover her mouth. She turned to von den Acker in consternation, her face flushed. "Oh, dear. You must forgive me for correcting your son in his own home, Willem. I fear I sometimes forget that I'm no longer in a classroom."

"Please don't give it another thought, Olivia. I'm certain that coming from you, Sequoyah will pay more attention than he would have accorded me."

During the meal she inquired about the music which was louder than background music would have been played.

"I am sorry," von den Acker said to her. "I intended to tell you that it's a CD made from a digital tape. I had one of the technicians from the university record Brant's performance with our local symphony."

"How wonderful. Brantford sent me a program and the review from the paper, but I thought the reviewer may have been given to hyperbole to encourage him."

"In no way. Doctor Hilton, dean of the university's music school and Brant's teacher, still talks about the performance and says that it compares favorably with the best he's heard from any established artist. While you are here we shall ask the boys to perform together so that you may judge for yourself."

"I shall anticipate that." She turned to Brant. "You didn't tell me that you were taking lessons at the university."

"Doctor Hilton was here for a party. When Randy and I played together, he arranged for us to study there."

"I can hardly believe your father would pay the tuition. Did you use the money I gave you?"

"No, he paid it. When I told Randy he wouldn't, Randy said he'd fix it and he did. He wouldn't tell me how."

von den Acker gave her a smile. "I'll tell you about that later."

"Indeed you will. It will be a pleasure hearing how you managed to wring the money from that Scrooge. Sequoyah, have you the proper equipment to make a CD copy?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excellent. Please obtain anything you might need and I will reimburse you. I shall want to hear that over again in the quiet of my home where I can give it my full attention."

"Oh, no, ma'am. I have everything I need. I'll be happy to make you one."

"Thank you."

After dinner Randy and Brant excused themselves to copy the CD for her. Olivia spoke to von den Acker over coffee. "I'm certain my few days here will be filled, Willem, but I feel we should discuss Brantford's future. If you have the time, I should like to do so now."

"Certainly."

He led her to his study and, after she was seated, mixed her a brandy and soda, fixing another for himself. When he took the chair across from her, she inquired about tuition and the expenses which Brant would have at the university, telling him of the trust account. "You are already aware of his stock holdings, and he has a small checking account as well."

"You have provided generously for Brant. All together, I believe the yield from the trust and the dividends from the stock will cover his expenses if managed prudently. You may rest assured that his home is here with Sequoyah and me and what I provide is done with concern for a fine young man and my love for my son."

"Lord love you for that, Willem. I assume that when Brantford begins classes at the university he will need a car, particularly with his handicap."

"Sequoyah has a car and their class schedules will be the same for the first couple of semesters, so Brant really doesn't need one at present. We also have a Jeep which he can use if necessary."

"As you think best. Frankly, Willem, though it's an unforgivable situation as far as his parents are concerned, I shall be forever in your debt for your kindness to him. Yet, I must impose on that kindness and ask that you take the responsibility of managing Brantford's assets, if you would. I no longer feel capable of doing an adequate job, but you are to let me know immediately if he needs or wants anything. Or, if you see fit, you may provide it and I shall reimburse you accordingly."

"I will be pleased to do that, Olivia."

"Thank you. I am attaching one condition. I know that you are a director of a bank here and, while I have all confidence in you personally and professionally, I must insist that all of Brantford's affairs be handled through my bank in which I have placed his accounts. I also insist that my brother not be informed of even so much as the identity of that bank. What Brantford has, has come mainly from me and he is my sole heir, other than for a few small bequests. I will not hesitate to move the entire business to a Swiss bank before I'll risk having my brother find out anything about my financial affairs or Brantford's."

"I quite understand."

"Excellent. You have no idea what an avaricious snoop my brother can be. He would just love to know the extent of my estate."

"Your aunt is a real trip," Randy declared as he and Brant climbed into bed.

"You got that right. If I'd had any idea she was coming, I could have prepared you for her. She's uptight about manners, but some of the things she comes out with when she's talking ... wow! She says what she thinks and she doesn't much care how she says it. My uncle was in the logging business and she learned plenty from the men that worked for him. If she gets mad, watch out. She can out cuss anybody."

"I guess I'd better watch myself. For sure I won't slouch with her around."

"If you do, you can bet she'll remind you. It's great of your dad to invite her. No way I'd of thought she'd come. The folks will have a hissy if they find out she's here."

After breakfast, she asked the boys to show her around the garden.

"Let me get my dog in first." Randy said.

"Not on my account. I like dogs. Where is he?"

Randy whistled and Dammit bounded up. He told her the animal's name and watched with awe as the husky diffidently approached Brant's aunt at her call.

"How'd you do that, ma'am? He's trained to be mean with strangers."

"I owned Siberians until I had to give up my home. They can immediately sense a dominate personality. Come, Dammit."

As they walked, she noticed Randy move closer to Brant and start to reach out, then withdraw his arm.

"If you wish to put your arm around Brantford, then do so."

They both turned to stare at her, mouths open.

"Shut your mouths; both of you are gaping like a pair of imbeciles. I'm well aware that you love each other."

"You aren't mad about it?" Brant asked.

"Mad implies that I'm out of my mind, Brantford, and I'm certainly not that, not yet at any rate. You should have said displeased. I can't say I'm overjoyed, but since I'm told your love is real, I'm pleased that you have each other. From what I have observed, Sequoyah has much to offer you. I hope that you offer him something in return."

"I try, Aunt Olivia."

"That's all I can ask. Now, shall we continue?" She walked ahead with Dammit, leaving them to trail along behind her.

As they continued on, she became aware of Brant's increasingly unsteady gait. "Didn't your father get you a new leg?"

"He said I hadn't had this one long enough, and he wasn't going to put out that kind of money when this one wasn't that old."

She snorted. "That damned tightwad makes Scrooge look like a spend-thrift! Let me tell you one thing young man; as soon as this graduation is over, you're coming home with me and we're going to that clinic and get you something decent." She fixed her gaze on Randy, shaking her finger at him. "And you, Sequoyah, are coming with him. If you're going to spend part of your life with Brantford, you may as well learn something about what he has had to go through, thanks to my jackass of a brother. There's a more graphic term to describe Brantford's father, but as I adored our mother, I can't use it without insulting her memory. The one good thing to come from all this, Brantford, is that there is no way your parents can prevent you from visiting me whenever you wish."

"But if you're sick ..."

"It's your parents who make me sick! I'm not ill, as should be perfectly obvious. You shall definitely come with me when I return home and Sequoyah will come with you."

"I have to run uptown for some things. Want to come with me?" Randy asked Brant about mid-morning.

"No, thanks, you go ahead. I want to spend some time with my aunt."

He took the lift up and tapped at her door, then opened it. She sat in a comfortable chair by the window overlooking the garden, drinking a cup of coffee.

"It's nice of you to come, Brantford, but I saw Sequoyah leaving. Didn't you wish to go with him?"

"We won't have that much time alone and I wanted to talk to you." He kissed her on the cheek then took a chair opposite.

When he looked up at her, she recognized Brant's serious expression. "What's bothering you, dear?"

"Why have mom and dad always hated me?"

Her startled expression grew sad. She bit her lower lip in thought as she placed the coffee cup on the table beside her. Finally, she looked at Brant.

"You're supposed to be happy at graduation. Why bring up something unpleasant at a time like this?"

"I haven't heard anything from them since I've been here with Randy and his dad. I called home one afternoon, but mom slammed the phone down when she heard my voice. I ..." tears welled up, "I can't help it if I'm gay."

"That is not the direct cause of what has happened, Brantford, only a small part of it. If you feel you must know, I'll tell you. But I would prefer not to, not at this time."

"Please. I've wondered a lot about it, 'specially since I got hurt and they acted like they did. The only reason dad bought me the leg was because he said I looked stupid enough without everybody knowing I'm a cripple. He raises hell with me if I use my crutches, but the leg hurts so bad sometimes I can't stand it. He wouldn't even listen to the doctor when he told him I should have a new one before I hurt my stump so bad I'd have to have another operation."

She studied him in silence for several moments. "You are an adult, Brantford, in experience if not in years. Yet, what I'm going to say will hurt."

"I can take it."

"Yes, I expect you can. The beginning is the worst part, but it will answer some of the questions I'm certain you want to ask. As you know, you were a late child. I believe they refer to it as a menopausal child now. However, when she found that she was pregnant, your mother wanted an abortion but, for various reasons, the doctors she saw refused. You were unwanted from the very beginning.

"Oh, God, life is so unfair, Brantford! Your uncle Nils and I wanted children so badly, but we were unable to have them, and your parents didn't want or appreciate you." She paused to wipe her tears. "We wanted to take you and raise you as our own, but your father refused us out of pure spite. That's the very reason I will not speak to that ass. I would never have tolerated your mother's visits, either, had that not meant I'd never get to see you. Oh, she was the ever loving mother when she brought you to see me, but it was all an act. You may be certain that she thinks no more of me than I think of her. She was using you in hopes that I might leave them something when I die. That will never happen, but should I have died before this, anything I left you, regardless of whom I named trustee, would have been partially under their control until you came of age. By then, I suspect, there would have been little or nothing left of it for you. I gather they've given up their expectations by now and made up the story of my illness just to keep you from visiting me. Everything I have comes to you when I die, with the stipulation that you're not to give them a single penny."

Seeing that Brant was about to speak, she lifted her hand. "Don't interrupt just now. I had a long talk with Willem last evening and, with his kind permission, I sent a fax from his machine to the bank and another to my attorney last night naming Willem your co-trustee with me until you come of age. Should something happen to me before then, he will become your sole trustee. He will also act as your financial advisor until you have finished your education and are able to administer your affairs in a responsible manner. In this way I am assured of your welfare. Your choices of anthropology and music delight me. That and his regard for you are why I asked Willem to assist you. It also assures me that your parents get not penny one from me and, therefore, have no hold over you."

Brant kissed his aunt again. "But you've already given me so much. I didn't know until I got your letter and Doctor von den Acker told me what the bank stock was worth. Now I can get a really good leg that won't hurt."

"You will not touch any of the stock. There is a merger in the offing and we should profit handsomely if it goes through. Keep it as a long-term financial base for your future. I established your checking account for things I thought you might want which I knew your parents would never give you. I am a bit disturbed at how little you've spent. Surely there were things which you denied yourself."

"I tried to save it all for a new leg."

"The cheque I sent as your graduation gift, before I knew I would see you, is for exactly that. I have no idea what one like you need will cost, but I will certainly make up any difference, so there's no reason for you to touch the stock or deplete your chequeing account. Also, Willem will see that your tuition and expenses at the university are paid from my bank. Should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask him just as I hope you would ask me, for we have agreed that he is to provide you with anything you want.

"Speaking of your leg. Your parents blame me entirely since I gave you the money for the motorbike. I hope that you don't feel that way."

"No way. It was an accident. The guy that ran over me was drunk. It isn't fair for them to blame you, but I guess they got mad because he didn't have any insurance and they didn't get anything."

"I'm pleased that you think so objectively at your age and don't make arbitrary judgements."

"I hope I'll always make you happy, Aunt Olivia."

"You always have, my dear."

She opened her purse and handed Brant her pen and a small card with two lines at the bottom. Her signature was already on the first line. She pointed to the line below. "Sign this just as your name is typed below the line."

He scrawled his name and handed it back. She replaced it in her purse and withdrew a small envelope. He opened it and took out a key of the type fitting cabinet locks, a numbered tag attached. He looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"You must keep that key in a safe place, Brantford, or let Willem hold it for you. It fits the lock on our security box in my bank. I hold the other key. On your birthday, the box will officially change from my name as your trustee to a jointly held box. I want you to have access in case anything should happen to me. In addition to the things we have already discussed, you will find my will and several family heirlooms in the box."

She stood and kissed him. "I believe I just saw Sequoyah return. Run along now and be with him. I'll be down for lunch."

Still uneasy over his situation, Brant tried to avoid attending the awards ceremony, asking his aunt if they could stay home together and talk instead.

"Don't be silly, Brantford," she exclaimed. "This is a part of your graduation and I want you to remember it with as much pleasure as you can."

Once he had found seats for this father and Brant's aunt, Randy went to the organ and reinforced the school's small orchestra in playing popular music as the audience found their seats. At the signal, he began the ubiquitous 'Pomp and Circumstance' with the organ all but drowning out the other instruments.

The program plodded on until only the announcement of the valedictorian remained, but Mr. Nowell took the podium instead of the headmaster, his beaming face picking out Brant among the seniors and Randy at the organ. After a few remarks about their awards at the competition and Brant's appearance with the symphony, he concluded: "... and because they have received acceptance from the university, I am pleased to present to Randall von den Acker and Brantford Petersen scholarships from the university's music department for study during the summer session."

Once disbelief passed, Randy helped Brant up the steps to the stage to receive the citations, his engaging smile a revelation to almost everyone.

The auditorium was nearly empty by the time Randy finished playing and helped Brant outside where his father and Brant's aunt, joined by the Hiltons, waited. Mrs. Hilton kissed both boys and passed them on to her husband who hugged them with affection.

Suspicious, Randy pressed the matter. "Hank, this was your doing, wasn't it?"

"I wish I could say it was, but the credit goes to Mr. Nowell. I'm sorry the grants are small, but we were limited mostly to residual funds from the departmental budget. Rex and I both wish the two of you were majoring in music, but," he winked at Randy's father, "I know your father's done too good a job of brain-washing both of you. I hope you'll decide to double major later on."

"As do I, Brantford," his aunt said. "Doctor Hilton has told me that he finds your talent for music a rarity. I hope that you will take the additional time for a degree in music as well as anthropology."

Though grateful for the love of his aunt, Randy and his father, and the thoughtfulness of new friends, the fact that he'd heard nothing from his parents tormented. When von den Acker turned the Bentley into the drive, the headlights swept across a stack of cardboard boxes by the gate. Only Brant recognized his father's car pulling away from the curb on the other side of the street.

"What's all that?" Randy asked and jumped from the car to examine the pile: a foot-locker, stereo gear, CD's and tapes. Books crowned the stack in disarray. Two envelopes lying on Brant's photograph of Randy topped the heap. A ten-speed bike leaned against the wall.

"That's my stuff!" Brant cried in disbelief when he looked at the accumulation.

Randy reached across and picked up the envelopes, squinting to read the names by the light from the gatepost lamps, but his father took them, slipping them into his coat pocket.

"Help Brant get his things in the house before the dampness gets into them. Olivia and I will go ahead."

Brant was overcome by a feeling of sick emptiness as he helped load the large garden cart which Randy brought from the carriage house.

When everything had been safely stacked in the entrance hall and Randy had put the bicycle in the carriage house, his father called them into the study where he and Olivia waited. He passed one envelope to Brant and impatiently ripped open the other and unfolded the note. His face blanched then flushed with anger, a stream of fiercely spoken Dutch filled the air. Randy's mouth dropped open, then slowly closed as he stared wide-eyed at his father.

"What?" Brant whispered.

Randy regarded his father with awe. "He's cussing."

Vocabulary exhausted, he crossed to Brant. "May I see yours?"

Brant ripped open the envelope and unfolded the note.

Since you have apparently decided to abandon your parents for a perverted relationship, here are your personal possessions, the document of trust set up for you by your aunt, and a check from the educational endowment your mother and I set up at your birth. You will notice that the check is postdated to your birthday at which time you come of age. While I doubt you will do so, I suggest that you use these wisely, for you will receive nothing more from us. However, when you receive your inheritance from your aunt, you might replace some of what your mother and I have expended on you as a result of your accident.

We do not wish to have any further communication with you until you come to your senses and decide to live a normal life.

D. Petersen

"I didn't think they hated me this much," Brant cried and crumpled to the floor. Randy dropped beside him and pulled him against his shoulder, holding him as the tears flowed. When he recovered enough, his aunt moved to one end of the sofa to let Brant sit between her and Randy. She placed her arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to comfort him.

von den Acker picked up the dropped note and scanned it, swearing more as he read, then tossed the note to the desk and poured a brandy which he passed to Randy to give Brant, then poured for himself and Olivia. Knowing that sleep would be difficult for them all, he could see no reason to prolong Brant's agony. He seated himself at his desk and picked up the papers.

"I know it's difficult for you to think objectively just now, but it's better to have it done." He looked over the cheque and document of trust then back to Brant. "Your aunt has told you of the arrangements we have made for you. I want you to think carefully about what you want to do so that I can help you before the summer session at the university begins. You know your home is here with Sequoyah and me."

He locked the documents in his desk and crossed to Brant. Pulling the boy to his feet, he hugged him. "I love you as I do my son, and we both want you here. Now go with Sequoyah and try to get some sleep."

On their way out of the room, Randy picked up the note which his father had thrown to the floor.

You spawned one half-breed cocksucker. You deserve the other one.

When the boys left the room, von den Acker handed Olivia the letter Brant had received.

Her expression did not change until she had read it and flung it wrathfully to the floor. "That miserable, conniving, penny-grubbing son of a bitch! How dare he even think of such after what he's done."

von den Acker's eyebrows raised at her langauge.

"Don't give me a shocked look, Willem. You were not exactly puritanical in your choice of words, either."

"My God! You don't speak Dutch?"

"No, but I speak enough German to understand that most of what you were saying echoed my own feelings precisely."

von den Acker had the grace to blush.

After they were in bed, Brant began to cry softly. Randy hugged him. "I know it hurts, but I'm here."

"Except for my aunt, you and your dad are the only family I've got now."

Randy awakened several times during the night, for each time Brant rolled away from the security of his embrace, he began to whimper. Once Randy pulled him back into his arms, the sounds ceased. Nor did his father find sleep easy, his mind jumping from thought to thought. Brant's needs, great as they were, could not take precedence over Sequoyah's, though he determined to treat them equally. "Oh, God, Nona, if only you were here to guide me," he whispered as he finally drifted into sleep.

Randy awakened early and, careful not to disturb Brant, slipped from the bed. When his father came into the kitchen, he jumped up from the table and hugged him. "God, poor Brant. I love you, dad."

His father held him tightly. "I love you, too, son. This has been a bitter lesson for both of us."

Cups of coffee in hand, they sat at the small table as Randy continued. "I thought you'd be the one upset when you found out about Brant and me, but, Jesus, his old man's a real bastard, throwing him out like that. What if he hadn't had us?"

von den Acker shook his head sadly. "I hate to think, because with graduation and thinking his aunt was ill, he didn't feel it possible to go to her. Do you see now why I've been so insistent on your education? I can accept your relationship with Brant because I understand it."

"Brant's aunt seems to understand too, so why can't his old man? He can't be but so stupid."

"It's simple prejudice, son, just like Hank's. Petersen's not stupid by any means, but he's educated in figures and loves only money. That's why I'm pleased that you and Brant want to follow in my field. You'll learn much about people and their cultures and, I hope, open your mind to accept differences. You tend to be pretty dogmatic about things, you know."

Randy grimaced. "I guess. I just never thought it would turn out like this. What about Brant?"

"I thought you loved him."

"I do. I don't know what I'd do without him."

von den Acker reached across the table and took his son's hand. "What worries you, then? His things are here now, and if you want more room together, we can take two or three of the bedrooms and turn them into an apartment if you would like, though I hope the two of you will continue to share the entire house with me. You'll always come first because you're my son, but I accept Brant as your brother and companion, and I love him as I do you. This is the first test of your love for each other, but I fear it won't be the last. Considering what you've endured these past four years, I'm happy that you've found love with Brant rather than deny your nature and hate others as a result."

"Thanks, dad. I love you."

After Randy had gone back upstairs, his father thought over the events of the past few weeks, pleased that Olivia was so open in her devotion to Brant, yet regretting the inability of the boy's parents to love and accept him. Saddened, too, by thoughts that his own family line would now most likely end with Sequoyah.

Early the evening of graduation, von den Acker, Olivia, and the boys met the Hiltons, Williamsons, Rex Mitchell, Tom Mathews, and Mr. Nowell for dinner at the faculty club. Though von den Acker had extended an invitation, Brant's parents had sent a rude refusal. Despite what had happened, von den Acker was surprised, as heretofore Petersen had let no opportunity pass to ingratiate himself for an invitation to the club. The affectionate teasing at the table brought Randy into a festive mood, but his godmother had to turn away and wipe her eyes when she looked at Brant's forlorn face, the way he sat clutching his aunt's hand, her feelings torn by his exile. She placed her hand over his and spoke quietly. "I'm so proud of you for what you've accomplished, not only for yourself but others. It does my heart good to see Bill and Sequoyah enjoying each other now, thanks to you. You must be a most unselfish and loving friend to have turned Sequoyah into such a happy young man. After his mother died, Hank and I were so concerned he would get into trouble and not finish school that we wanted to take him into our home, but Bill wouldn't hear of it.

"I must tell you, also, that Hank absolutely glows after you've had a lesson with him, not to mention the way you thrilled him when you played so brilliantly with the orchestra. I can't remember his ever having thought so highly of a student as he does you."

Knowing her forthright honesty, he asked, "Could we go in the lounge for a minute?"

"Of course."

They excused themselves and Mrs. Hilton led the way into the deserted foyer. She sat on a sofa and patted the cushion beside her. Once Brant was seated, she asked, "What is it, dear?"

"I hope you'll tell me the truth, because I know Doctor von den Acker talks to you and Doctor Hilton about family things. Has he ever said anything about all the time I've stayed with them instead of being home?"

Aware of Brant's situation since Randy's father had talked at length with Hank and her only a few evenings before, she chose her words with care. "I can't believe that Bill or Sequoyah would make you feel unwelcome."

Brant shook his head. "They're great to me. But sometimes I feel like I'm outside looking in, and I know it costs a lot for me to stay there."

She looked into his pleading eyes, squeezing his hand as a distraction until she could control her voice and rising tears. "I know it must be hard for you, but you've brought Bill and Sequoyah nothing but happiness by being in their home. If you sometimes feel left out of things, it's because Bill is trying to rebuild his relationship with Sequoyah. Bill adored Sequoyah's mother and, after her death, every time he looked at Sequoyah he saw her. Not that Sequoyah looks like his mother as you well know, but his coloring and Indian ways were a constant reminder to Bill of what he had lost. It nearly drove him crazy, so he avoided Sequoyah as much as possible, not thinking of what he was doing to a boy at such an impressionable age. Sequoyah had no close friends, so it was doubly hard on him. That's what you're feeling.

"Don't bother your head about cost. Bill has income from inherited wealth as well as his salary at the university and royalties from his books. While he spends carefully, he's generous to a fault with those he loves, as you must be aware by now. He regards you as a son and that pleases Hank and me for we have come to be as fond of you as we are our godson." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "You have your delightful aunt to share this occasion with you. Now stop fretting. It's a time for happy thoughts, dear." She helped him up and they returned to the table.

After the meal, the Williamsons rode to the school with the Hiltons. "Helen, did you receive an invitation to tea from Inga Petersen?" Marjorie Williamson asked.

"I did, and don't you think for one minute that I'm going to give that bitch the satisfaction of an acceptance," she snapped.

"Then I'm certain she invited all of the board members' wives and the members of our faculty wives' book club as well, because I received one. I hope you'll ask them all to send regrets as I have. Anyone who treats a child as they have treated Brantford is unacceptable to me under any circumstances."

As she had spoken softly, she was surprised when their husbands loudly agreed from the front seat.

Certain that his parents were not in the audience, Brant remained miserable, feeling graduation would never end. His hand slipped into Randy's for reassurance, holding it until time for them to play. As a tribute to Mr. Nowell, they had chosen the Demerest, knowing the music would appeal to most of those present.

The audience shifted uneasily as Randy helped Brant to the piano then took his place at the organ. Brant watched until Randy nodded and brought his hands down hard on the keys, wiping everything else from his mind. Each tried to outdo the other in the phrases that alternated between the two instruments, playing with greater force than necessary. The music soared through the auditorium until, with a broad flourish, they finished. Even those who cared nothing for the music felt the appeal. Randy ran up the stage steps to acknowledge the applause with Brant before helping him back to his seat.

With their diplomas at last in hand, graduates stampeded past Brant and Randy with shouts of joy.

His aunt kissed both boys when they came out of the auditorium. "I would not have missed hearing you play together again for anything. Your performance was magnificent. Thank you both."

During the drive home, Randy's father casually mentioned that he would like to offer Olivia a drink at the club. But at the club, he bypassed the lounge leading them into a private parlor where the guests from dinner waited, joined by the Steiners and the Mathesons who knew Randy well. Hilton and Mitchell immediately began to vie over the superiority of their students and praised Mr. Nowell, adding to the boisterousness. During a lull in the festivities, a waiter rolled in a service cart piled with gifts.

Because he had already received the cheque from his aunt and knowing, now, that his parents would give him nothing, Brant expected only a token from Randy's father. He looked on dejectedly as Randy delightedly tore into the wrappings.

Randy's father leaned towards him. "Aren't you going to open yours?"

Brant's eyes widened. "But they're Sequoyah's."

"Not all of them." He picked up a package from the pile and handed it to Brant.

Emotion surged through him as he opened the gift, a gold Cross pen and pencil identical to Randy's, and read the card expressing the Hiltons' affection. He kissed the grandmotherly woman, then shook hands with Dr. Hilton who pulled him into a gentle embrace while grumbling, "See that you don't have to borrow my pencil again." A joking reference to Brant's first lesson with him.

He was as elated as Randy over the volume of transcriptions for four hands from Mr. Nowell. Gifts, too, from the Williamsons, Mathews, Mitchell, even small gifts from the Steiners and the Mathesons. Surprised by gifts from the two couples he had met only a few times before, he stammered his thanks.

When he was able to gain their attention, Randy's father pulled similar packages from his coat pocket and handed one to each boy. Inside were identical Rolex chronometers. Brant's expression of delight twisted as he read the inscription on the back of the case: My son, Brant, and the date. Speechless, he hugged the man before showing his aunt the inscription. Her eyes moistened as she read it and then looked at von den Acker.

He noticed her expression and bent toward her. "It says what I feel, Olivia."

When she regained her composure, she took a carefully wrapped gift from her purse. "I have noticed these appear quite popular with young men, Brantford. Your friend Sequoyah has one, so I thought you might like one also. This belonged to your grandmother, but as you will see, it is heavy enough to be suitable for you. I had the clasp replaced with a much sturdier one, for this is quite valuable, aside from it's sentimental value."

He opened the box carefully and gave a gasp of surprise, for inside lay a solid gold chain of heavy links. His aunt picked it up and fastened it around his neck, rewarded by Brant's happy expression, a hug and a kiss.

When Olivia and the boys were ready to board the plane to her home in Wisconsin, von den Acker hugged both boys then taking Olivia's outstretched hand he suddenly bent and kissed her cheek. "You are a remarkable woman, Olivia. I hope that when the boys return you will come with them. But if you cannot, I shall look forward with the greatest anticipation to another visit from you."

"And you shall never know what a weight you have lifted from me, Willem. Regretfully, I shall not return with Brantford and Sequoyah, but perhaps next year I can visit all of you again. Should you come to our area, you will be most welcome in my home."

He lingered to watch the plane depart, his thoughts remaining on her. 'My God, what a wonderful woman! It's no wonder Brant loves her so much. If she were nearer my age, I could easily fall in love with her myself."