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When I entered the private side entrance to the bank, Karl heartily shook my hand and invited me into his office where he gave me a warm, much needed hug. Knowing I like single malt scotch sans rocks, he handed me a glass and we sat on each end of the sofa in his office.

Neither of us spoke right away. I swirled the scotch and enjoyed the aroma. Karl broke the silence. "John really enjoyed the weekend with you."

I smiled, not looking at him, and nodded, agreeing that it had been a fun weekend. He looked uncomfortable; since I knew why, I took the so called bull by the horns. "Karl, I fear I made a grave mistake taking John away for the weekend."

"Why is that, George?"

If it had been anyone else but Karl, I would have right out lied. But he's my closest friend, and I trusted him totally, as I'm sure he trusted me. "You know that I've recently made arrangements to marry."

Karl nodded, but didn't say anything. I glanced at him, but could read nothing except acceptance.

"You're aware that it's a marriage of convenience. She needs a husband with social standing acceptable to her family, and I need a wife to keep my social standing." I went on to explain that she'd married badly, had a child, and her husband had been killed in a bar room brawl. "Her family has disowned her. She needs redemption. I in turn need a wife for my public image. Plus, it'll shut my father up."

Karl chuckled, knowing how verbose and cantankerous my father is. "I suppose congratulations are in order," he said, "but I can't help but feel you're making a mistake, George."

I nodded and stared at the floor. I could feel Karl's eyes studying me. I couldn't look up.

Eventually, Karl asked, "So how does this affect my son?"

Before the question was asked, I had a ready answer, but when Karl verbalized it, I panicked. I glanced at him, then at the window and back to him. "I…I…I--" I snapped my mouth closed, stared at the floor for a moment to regain my equilibrium, then I looked at Karl. "I've fallen in love."

"With John?"

I nodded once and gave him a strangled, "Yes," cleared my throat and said, "I didn't mean to. I had no intentions other than giving him the weekend he wanted."

"I'm sure you didn't mean to, George." Karl's voice was soothing and kind, while I wished that it was scathing and cruel like I deserved.

"God, I've been around him his whole life. He's like my kid brother." I wondered if he could detect the desperate wailing undertone I felt.

"Have you told him? Do you have any idea how John might feel about this?"

I shook my head and stared at the floor. "I'm afraid to tell him. It wouldn't be fair to him, Karl."

"Have you thought about how unfair it is not to tell him, especially if he's feeling the same way toward you?"

"He can't be," I gasped. "He hasn't said anything to you, has he?"

"George, you need to talk to him. You're hurting him by ignoring him." Karl's voice was so gentle and loving. It only made me feel worse.

"I know… but… Karl, I'm afraid of hurting him more by talking to him."

"You've already told him you're getting married?"

"Yes, I told him."

"So, he can't be expecting anything more than your continued friendship."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"Just talk to him, George. And stop thinking of him as a kid. He's twenty-one years old - a young man."

I looked up at Karl and he smiled. His smile seemed to say that it all would be okay.

We talked a bit more of other things, and I left after assuring Karl again that I'd talk to John.

When I got home, John's car wasn't in his driveway, so I headed into the house. My father must have been feeling better. He greeted me civilly... almost friendly. Automatically, I enquired how he was feeling.

"I'm feeling fine, Son," he assured me. It had been ages since he'd last called me 'Son'. It made me feel like something was out of sync - not quite right. Not knowing what to expect next, I headed across the room to the liquor cabinet, poured myself a couple fingers of Scotch, and sat down in the living room where he was ensconced in one of the big overstuffed club chairs. He looked diminutive in the big chair. I recalled a time when he'd made the chair seem small. I could feel his eyes studying me. I nervously glanced at him and then glanced away. I no longer knew how to carry on a civil conversation with him without being assailed by caustic remarks and snide comments, but I was totally unprepared for what came out of his mouth next.

His voice was calm, but I noticed an unsure little quaver in it as he said, "I suppose you'll enjoy not having me nipping at your heels and biting you in the ass every time you come in the door," he said.

What in hell? For a moment I was thrown for a loop. When I finally found words, I asked, "What are you saying, Dad?"

"I'm dying, George. I can feel it. My life force is ebbing."

I wasn't prepared for this. Sure, he'd had two strokes and was confined to a wheelchair, but his spirit had always been as strong as ever. Here, suddenly, without notice, I was being confronted with his mortality. "What do your doctors say?"

"Those damn quacks only know how to dispense more pills." For the moment, it was like he was his old self.

I took a big swallow of my drink and stared at the floor, then raised my eyes and studied him. God, he looked old. He hadn't looked like this yesterday… had he? Had I not noticed his aging amid all the vitriol? Overnight it seemed he'd shrunken. His boney hands quivered as they tugged at the blanket covering his useless legs. He glanced up at me and hesitantly half smiled.

"Are you going to miss me when I'm gone, Son?" He asked in a pitiable, quavering voice. What had happened to the irascible ol' S.O.B.? His voice had never quavered before. He'd never been one for self pity. It shook my foundation. I stood up, walked to the big bay window and turned around to look at him. "Of course, I'm going to miss you, Old Man. Despite your mean nasty mouth these last few years, you've been a good father. I love you, you old bastard." I turned and stared out the window.

"I always thought you did, Son. Otherwise, you'd probably have left. I love you, too, you know."

I barely heard him say it, but for the first time in nearly thirty-nine years, I definitely did hear it. I'd wished for as long as I could remember that he could be more open and loving - like Karl. He wasn't… but he'd finally said it. Even if it took standing at death's door, he'd said it. I turned around and smiled at him, my eyes blurring with unshed tears. "You know, Dad, I've waited all my life to hear that; I'm happy you finally gave in and said it."

He looked rather sheepish, and wistfully smiled. He got a happy expression on his face and nodded off. After his talking about dying, it frightened me to think that maybe he had. I rushed across the room and felt his wrist for a pulse. It was there; strong as ever. I pressed the button to call Madison, my father's longtime nurse/companion, then I picked him up, stepped into the elevator, and carried him to his bedroom. I was surprised at how light he was. At one time… just a few years ago… he'd stood six foot two and had weighed two hundred and ten pounds.

Madison helped me get him into bed.

"He won't be with us much longer," he said, as we stood at his bedside looking down at him.

"He told me he's fading."

"It's a strange thing with the elderly, they often know before their doctors that their time is up."

"I'll miss him," I muttered.

Madison chuckled under his breath. "He's certainly given you a hard time over the last few years."

"Probably the only way he knew to communicate with me."

"You're probably right. I don't think he's ever gotten over being confined to a wheel chair and dependent on someone to help him. Even though you're his son, I've gotten the feeling that he resented that he could no longer do the everyday things you do. So he took it out on you."

I watched him straighten Dad's dressing gown and pull a light blanket up to his chest as he talked, and wondered how much abuse Madison had to take from the ol' codger. It was apparent that the two of them had a good relationship though, and Madison really did care about my father.

I left my father's bedroom, dismissing my thoughts about Madison and my father, and went back into the living room where I picked up my nearly empty glass and swallowed the rest of the Scotch. Glancing out the bay window, I saw John's little silver Thunderbird in his driveway. I leaned against the window sill and considered what I had to do.

I squared my shoulders and headed across the street to talk to him. I'm not quite sure what kind of greeting I was expecting, but it stunned me that he just stared expressionlessly at me when he opened the door.

"Hi, John," I meekly said.

He continued to stare at me without responding.

"Are you going to invite me in?" I asked.

He stepped back to allow me entrance and closed the door. Then he turned and walked into the living room, sat down in a high-backed wing chair, and folded his arms across his chest. I hesitantly sat in the matching chair facing him.

"I guess I have some explaining to do, huh?"

He raised an eyebrow, but made no other response.

"Karl said you were upset."

No response.

"I can't blame you. I've been wrong - the way I treated you."

Both his eyebrows shot up.

"You see, something happened last weekend that I wasn't expecting… and I haven't handled it very well."

Some interest began to show in his expression.

"You see, I… I… I fell in love - I didn't mean to. God knows it's the last thing in the world that I need to deal with right now."

I felt like a real heel seeing his expression go from elation to hurt.

"John, I've always loved you. I always will. But…. but I'm getting married in a couple of months. I just can't be 'in love' with you. You don't deserve that. Besides, I'm way too old for you."

I glanced up at him. His expressionless stare had turned into an angry glare. I dropped my chin to my chest. John stood and cleared his throat. I thought he was going to say something. Instead, he strode across the room and stared out the window. I sat unmoving and watched him.

Eventually, he began to speak, still staring out the window. "Six years ago you sat down beside me on that big boulder outside the cave, and you spoke to me as an equal. I'd had a crush on you for years before that, but it was then that I fell in love with you. I kept it to myself, knowing everyone would say it was just a teenager thing - something that I'd out grow. Well, I didn't… I haven't."

He cleared his throat again. "I never expected you to keep the promise you made that day. I would never have reminded you of it, if you had forgotten about it. But since you did remember, and you did keep your promise, I don't think you have the right to decide what I deserve. Even though you're getting married, you and I both know it's a sham. So… what this whole thing boils down to is that we've been in love with each other for a long time."

He turned and looked at me. "You do remember telling me that you fell in love with a fifteen year old boy, don't you?"

He turned back to the window before I could answer and continued. "I believe that I deserve the expression of your love, just as I believe that I should have the right to express my love for you."

He turned again to look at me. "If you are the man I believe you to be… you won't deny me."

I had seen the look in his eyes over the weekend and hadn't understood it. As I looked up into his eyes and saw it again, I knew it for what it was; love, adoration, compassion, all mixed with a good bit of lust.

"George, all my life you've come and gone from this house and never thought a thing about it. Everyone knows that you and Dad are good friends. Why should it be any different now? No one needs to know that our feelings have changed for each other. Outside this house - everything will still appear the same. You can continue being my loving big brother… as far as the rest of the world is concerned."

I stood. He stepped up to me and cupped my face. I flashed back to when he was a little child - I would pick him up, and he'd smash my cheeks with his little hands, making me pucker up, then he'd give me a smacking kiss, then pull back and stare into my eyes, saying, "I love you, George." Now he was a grown man with his hands on my cheeks, saying, "I love you, George, as only a man can love another man."

His lips grazed mine and set a wild fire burning in my being. I lost the hesitancy I'd been feeling and kissed him back. I ran my hands down his back and cupped his hard tight buttocks. John soon led me upstairs to his bedroom.

The afternoon that I visited with my father in the living room was the last time he ever got out of bed. I stopped in to visit with him every morning before going to the office, and again every evening when I came home. He'd lost his feistiness, along with it, his nasty meanness. It was almost like having my father from my youth back, except that he had aged so drastically in the last few weeks. I believe he enjoyed our visits as much as I did.

One evening, he asked me if I was still planning on marrying.

"Yes, Dad, the date is set for the first of November."

"I know this marriage is a sham, Son. I still don't approve of your… your lifestyle. I've always been aware of what you and Walt were doing. And now it's that boy of Karl's."

It surprised me that he knew about John, but he was an astute, observant old man who'd had nothing much to occupy his time for the last few years.

"I love John, Dad."

He stared at me as a slight smile slowly spread. He blinked then said, "Still… getting married is what you need to do. To protect your interests in this town, you have to get married. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Dad. Why else would I be doing it?"

He laughed and then started choking. It scared me, and I called for Madison who was in the next room. He quickly got him settled, but Dad seemed a little weaker after that.

My father lingered for another month and a half. He died quietly in his sleep on the 14^th of September, one and a half months before my wedding date. On the evening before he died, I sat at his bedside holding his hand.

"Doesn't look like I going to make it to your wedding, Son."

"Sure you will, Dad, just hang in there."

He ignored my false joviality. "You're going to have your hands full being a married man and keeping young Johnny happy, too. But I know you can do it, George." He paused and closed his eyes. That was the most he'd spoken in days.

I thought he'd gone to sleep. But just as I decided to leave and let him rest, he opened his eyes. His hand tightened on mine. "Something I just thought of… been meaning to tell you for a while… I need to tell you before I go. I know you and Walt used to use the exit to the outside, but check out the rest of the cave. There's a secret passage from this room." His eyes moved toward the big mirror that hung on the back wall, but then his eyes closed again. I glanced at the mirror, but put it out of mind and sat with his withered hand in mine, remembering when his hand was strong and virile. I loved my father. Sure, we'd had some rocky years since my mother died and he was confined to his wheelchair. I could understand why he'd gotten so crotchety. I forgave him.

When he didn't awaken after awhile, I patted his hand, laid it on his chest and whispered, "I love you, Dad." He smiled in his sleep and sighed. I tiptoed out and went into the den.

I walked through the dark room to the bay window where I stared across the street at John's little silver car, mulled over my history with him, and considered how the future might go. I thought about the cave below that opened onto the hillside where John had once caught me and Walt. My grandfather, who had built this house, had kept meticulous records. I was certain that if I searched our library, I'd find exactly how far through the hill the cave went.

I decided to search for the records and turned on the lamp beside me, then walked across to the door and turned on the big crystal chandelier.

John must have been watching for a light, for soon after I turned on the lights in the den the phone rang.

"George, are you alright?" He asked, instead of a greeting.

"Of course, why shouldn't I be?"

"How is your dad?"

I sighed. "He's getting weaker. I don't think he'll be around much longer."

"How are you feeling about that?"

"We all grow old and eventually die, John. It's part of life."

He was persistent. "But how are you feeling?"

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if you were here."

"Hold that thought, George."

At first, I thought he'd laid the phone down, but after a moment, the dial tone started, so I dropped the phone back into its cradle and started for the front door. He was in the foyer by the time I got there. He closed the door and I walked into his arms. He held me tightly while I laid my head on his shoulder and let him offer me comfort.

As we held each other, I could feel him hardening against my thigh and I was quickly aroused, also. Taking his hand, I led him up to my bedroom where we rushed to undress each other and fell into bed.

When I took John to Santa Barbara he'd been a virgin, but he'd quickly become a loving caring partner in bed. He seemed to sense, from the moment he kissed me, that tonight I needed him to be the dominant one. Masterfully, he soon had me eager and begging for him to enter me. After bringing us both to a satisfying climax, he held me close and caressed my back until I blissfully fell asleep.

It was almost dawn when Madison knocked on my bedroom door. I knew immediately what had happened. I slipped out of bed, put on a robe and opened the door. The tears in his eyes confirmed my suspicion even before he quietly said, "George, your father has passed quietly in his sleep." Madison had already called the doctor, who in turn had notified the coroner and the mortuary.

"Let me get dressed and I'll be right down."

As I closed the door, John sat up rubbing his eyes. "George?"

I sat down beside him and took his hand. "Dad's gone."

"Oh," was all he said as he wrapped his arms around me and simply held me. I lay against him and let him hold me for a bit while I drew strength enough to face the day. Eventually, I pulled myself together, showered and dressed. John had been on the phone while I showered, and by the time I got downstairs Karl was waiting for me.

I walked into his arms and let him offer his comfort. Like his son, he knew there was really nothing to say. The comfort of his embrace said everything.

During the days after the funeral, I knocked about the big empty house, alone for the first time. John and Karl stopped by every evening to check on my well being. John would often spend the night.

All the paraphernalia that had been needed to take care of my father had been removed from the house, and when Madison was ready to leave I handed him his final check. He glanced at it, then looked up at me.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, offering me the check back.

"You've been my father's constant companion for so many years. Yes, you deserve it. Have you thought of what you're going to do now, Madison?"

There were tears in his eyes; he'd always been so unemotional. "Yes, with this I'll pay off the rest of the mortgage on my little house on the beach just north of Ventura. Maybe find someone special to share it with, and just retire."

After my father's death, I decided to move into his old master suite. My mother's suite of rooms hadn't been opened in all the years since her death. With my impending marriage in mind, I hired extra staff to open it up, air it out. I thought about having it redecorated in a more current style, but I was sure that my new bride would want to redo the suite to her own tastes. In the meantime, it would be ready for her occupancy.

As my marriage day approached, I could feel John pulling away from me emotionally. I felt helpless to do anything about it, except talk to Karl. He was very solicitous, but offered no advice.