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"Okay, guys." Jonah strolled into the apartment, and began to strip. "Enough heavy conversation. Lucas is across the street, talking t'Millie, Art, and Hank. I'm sure he'll be here, directly. And even though it's late, Corey's at school, but I'm sure he'll be here before too long. Then we can have some fun. "So," Jonah concluded, as he stepped out of his underwear and tossed them aside, then scratched his pubic hair. "Since you guys are comfortable, I thought I should be, too." He climbed onto the bed and knelt next to his brother, sitting against his heels. "Now . . . both of you . . . start smiling, and give me a kiss. You're lookin' like you just lost your best friend." He leaned forward, on hands and knees, stretching across his brother, to kiss Sam. He half-expected to feel his brother's touch, but didn't. "Like you mean it, Sam!" he grumbled, fractionally nodding in his brother's direction and lowering his brows, hoping Sam would get the message that he was trying to lighten things up, and keep what had obviously been a very serious conversation from degenerating into something worse. "Now, it's your turn," he said, stretching out on the bed and half-lying on his brother. He propped himself up, as Owen watched. "This is a tongue," he said, speaking as if to an especially slow pupil, while looking into his brother's smoky-grey eyes. "You've got one, too. Use it!" he concluded, as he mashed his lips against his brother's and felt him slowly begin to relax. "Feeling better?" he asked, as he and Owen parted. "Yeah, I guess," Owen murmured, as he climbed out of bed, managing to avoid touching either Sam or Jonah. "I've gotta get something t'drink," he said, as he left the room. "Well, hell!" Jonah heaved a sigh. He flopped onto his stomach, and turned an exasperated look in Sam's direction. "This is a fine mess." After a moment, he glanced toward the bedroom door, before turning back to Sam. "You know what's causing this?" Sam asked, remaining in a cross legged position. Even with all the drama surrounding Owen, he couldn't help but admire Jonah's naked body. 'The guy looks like he's never spent a moment in the sun! I've never seen someone with such perfect skin . . . not even Owen, and a person would have to search to find a single blemish on him.' He felt his cock twitch, as he focused on Jonah's smooth butt, recalling Jonah's aggressive lovemaking. Jonah propped himself up on his elbows and frowned. "Are you awake?" Sam tried to smile. "Just admiring your body," he murmured. "Yes, I'm awake." "Well," Jonah repeated. "Do you know what's causing Owen's behavior?" "Bailey," Sam grumbled. "He didn't mean to say anything, but he made some sort of offhand comment, which pushed Owen's face into his insecurities." Jonah sadly shook his head. "I thought that might be the case. He called Lucas . . . when we were over at the greenhouses . . . and began apologizing. Lucas isn't pleased. He left early. I thought he was comin' back here, to talk t'Owen, but I saw him over at the grocery store, visiting with Millie, Art, and Hank. I guess he hasn't been here yet?" "No, not yet. Something's got to happen, Jonah," Sam said, his voice low and urgent. "Things are getting weird. We all want the same thing, yet we're all snapping at one another. It's only a matter of time until we're shouting n'stuff. This isn't good." "Y'got that right," Jonah mumbled tiredly, as he climbed off the bed. "Trouble is, I don't know what t'do. All of us are being put in a position that no matter what we do, it's wrong." He glanced toward the open door to the bedroom. "So . . . no matter how he interprets it, I'm going in there. I've never abandoned Owen, whenever he's hurting, and I'm not about t'start now . . . no matter what. C'mon," he said, motioning for Sam to join him. "If he won't pay attention to us, we're in worse shape than we thought. "So . . ." Jonah said, as he stood opposite his brother, across the kitchen island counter. "Are you set on being pissed at everyone just 'cause Bailey said something which has no basis in fact?" "No," Owen said. "Then, what's bothering you?" "Everything! I'm just dealing with too much . . . and all of it is up here," he said, pointing to his head. "Bailey's only a small part of it. Same with Pops. Things just keep piling up, though; and now, I feel like I'm gonna burst. I'm angry at everyone. Mostly, though, I'm angry with myself for feeling like I do. I don't have any control over anything!" He looked up as Lucas entered the apartment. "Have you hurried back to keep an eye on me, too?" he asked. "Huh?" Lucas approached the kitchen counter, the anger he felt at what the people of Riverton had done to Owen, by turning a blind eye to what was happening in the Carver household, threatened to explode. His eyes flashed as he spoke. "Owen, you've got to realize that there are things which happen in this town which do not revolve around you! What's gotten into you? This is my apartment, too. My comings and goings are not due to you. I love you, and love being with you, but I don't arrange my day around you any more than I do Sam." He paused, reining himself in. 'There's so much more I want to say,' he thought. 'I want to rant and rave, but it would achieve nothing. Besides, I'm not angry with Owen. I'm angry at the people who made Owen suffer like he is. "Now that we've got that settled, I've got'a tell you guys that I am well and truly irritated." He turned to Jonah. "Not by anything at the greenhouses, or either of you," he added, looking toward his two partners. "I've just been made aware . . . again, how incredibly stupid people can be . . . What is worst, is that many times, people know they're acting wrong, and don't do anything to change it!" He shook his head in resignation. "Here I am, thinking I can change the world and the way everyone behaves. Of course, I behave perfectly," he concluded, in self-deprecation. "Now . . . I apologize for snapping at you guys . . . especially you, Owen." He rounded the kitchen counter and wrapped Owen in a hug. "Am I forgiven?" he asked, holding his partner at arm's length and studying his solemn expression. "Sure . . . of course. It's just that . . ." Owen began, hesitated, then stopped . . . shaking his head, as if he couldn't find the words. He was saved from any more questions, when Corey bounded up the stairs, and entered the apartment, his eyes brightening at the sight of his friends, three of whom were naked. "Whoa! Three nekkid men! What a sight to come home to. Why aren't you starkers, Lucas?" he asked, as he began shedding his clothes. "What?" he asked, looking up, puzzled by the silence. "I always strip nekkid, first thing, whenever I come home. I'm not doing it just so you guys can get a gander at my massively buff body. "Here," he said, holding an arm up, "anyone wanna lick one of my pits?" "Owen's body's as good as yours," Sam said, hoping to divert Owen and end his silence. 'Damn you, Bailey, for saying anything about . . . anything. I know I'm not being very charitable, but Owen's living on the edge of a knife, and offhand comments can easily cause him to slip.' "Guys," Owen said, as he rounded the kitchen counter. He grabbed the first piece of clothing he saw . . . a pair of underwear. "I need t'be alone for a while, okay? So, let me be! I can take care of myself, so there's no need t'come after me, just t'keep me from hurting myself or something!" he said, his voice rising. He slipped his bare feet into a nearby pair of shoes. "No one's done anything wrong. I'm not angry at anyone, but, please, let me be alone for a while. I'll be at the library, but leave me be!" He grabbed his keys off the entry table and turned to the apartment's door. "Owen . . ." Jonah began. "You, too, Jonah! All of you! Leave me alone!" he called, over his shoulder, as he stomped down the stairway, shoelaces flying. "You, too, Pops," he grumbled. "I've had enough of you!" He closed the door to the apartment building, not . . . quite . . . slamming it. It wasn't until he stepped into the balmy air of the late evening that he realized how little he was wearing. He glanced up and down both sides of the street, and saw no one, so decided to be daring. 'I don't want to go back inside. I need to spend some time . . . thinking. If I do see anyone and they ask about how I'm dressed, I'll tell 'em I'm wearing my swimsuit and am headin' to the river. Yeah, right,' he thought, looking down at himself. 'Who ever heard of wearing leather dress shoes to go swimming?' With those thoughts, he stomped toward the library, the only refuge he had. 'Prob'ly should have tied the shoelaces instead of traipsing around lookin' like a fool. Sheesh! I never realized Lucas has such big feet! 'Why am I so sensitive about having the guys around, lookin' out for me? Hell, I'm not happy when they're gone, and now, when they're back, I'm not happy that one of 'em will be hanging around, just t'keep an eye on me.' He climbed the steps to the library and punched in the key code, allowing the heavy door to swing open. 'I can take care of myself,' he groused. 'I'm just a puppet. Pull my string and I'll do whatever you want. I don't have any control, over anything. I'm still the same square peg, tryin' t'fit into a round hole, I was before I left to go to school.' He paused. 'Wait! Where'd that thought come from? Why am I thinking I'm feelin' like a puppet? What's that have to do with anything else?' He turned on his small desk light, and plopped down on a chair, then just as quickly sprang up and began to pace. 'I'm never happy! I gripe and groan t'Bailey tellin' him that I'm lonely and want to hear a friendly voice; then, when I'm surrounded by friends, I can't handle it! I feel like they're fencin' me in. What's wrong with me?' He pivoted, and spoke, as if someone else was in the room. "This is all your fault, y'know! You got me so damned screwed up that I don't even know how to have friends! Those guys," he shouted, pointing toward the apartment, "They love me!" He snorted. "As if you'd know what love is!" He flopped down onto one of the hard wooden library chairs, one part of his mind thinking that he needed to get cushions for them. "Yeah, go ahead and laugh," he groused. "I know I'm acting just like you . . . talking t'unseen things. That's okay, isn't it? After all, I'm Jonathan Carver's son. Of course I'll be crazy. It goes with the territory!" 'Alright, so I'm wacko. Does that give me the right to be angry with the guys? I know they all love me. If they didn't care, they wouldn't be changin' their schedules or anything. "So, why am I upset?" He looked around the dimly lit room. "The guys haven't done anything wrong. I'm the one who's behavin' badly, by not thanking them for their concern. That's what I should'a done . . . thanked 'em and told 'em it wasn't necessary, but that I appreciate them thinking of me. Instead, I get all hot under the collar and leave, tellin' 'em I need to think. Well . . . that's true, but, we've always been able to talk about our thoughts. It's not good to cut off conversation like I did." He continued speaking aloud. "You have no right to complain, or sit around and feel sorry for yourself, and that is exactly what you're doing, you know. Owen, the big strong man." 'I am not feeling sorry for myself,' another part of his mind retorted, then subsided. "I've led a good life. I'm not the only person who suffered through a rotten childhood. Look at Corey! He's managed to reach some sort'a . . . what . . . accommodation . . . with his folks. And there's Riley and Nathan. Geez, that mother of theirs belongs in a loony bin, and she's still alive. At least my crazy father is dead n'gone. That's where I should leave him. But, noooo, I haul around the memory of him, allowing him to run my life. It's as if I'm comfortable being miserable. At least I know what misery holds for me. If I don't have Pops t'blame for everything, that means I'm gonna have t'stand on my own. "I should be happy. I'm healthy . . . except for my mind, that is." He sighed, shifting in the chair. He threw a leg over one of the chair's arms, smiling at his reflection in the window, and the ludicrousness of being dressed in a pair of someone else's underwear and leather dress shoes. 'That's the heart of the matter . . . my mind. Ah . . . if only I could suck it up like I overheard someone suggest. Suck it up!? What's that mean? Forget about the beatings, or the verbal abuse? 'Now that Pops is dead, those things, the beatings and name calling, are gone, but the results aren't. An adult can prob'ly handle things like that much better than a child. An adult is stronger. They are able to tell the person that they're an asshole and ignore them.' He ran a finger over the cover of a book, feeling the rough linen binding. 'I may be an adult now, but I still look at what happened, as if I'm still a child. I still react, to the name calling and being told that I'm a disappointment, as a child would. I always think that I never had a childhood; yet, here I am, an adult, who reacts to things like a child. Something's wrong with that. 'I believed everything he said about me. I wanted him to love me. I desperately wanted to be loved; yet, no matter what I did, nothing worked. The harder I tried, the more names he called me, the more often he beat me, or tried to strangle me, or punch me in the chest, or stomach, or come up behind me and push me. He was a bully. I see that now. I was at his mercy. But, I was a child! I couldn't see such things. I couldn't . . . suck it up! I was a little boy, desperately looking for someone to love him.' Owen heaved himself out of the chair and leaned over the desk, prepared to turn out the lamp, and go home to apologize, when someone knocked. He opened the door, an apology already forming on his lips, but instead of one of the guys, his mother stood, leaning against the door frame, bracing herself with an outstretched arm, looking intensely uncomfortable. "Do you happen t'have a chair in there?" she asked, releasing the door frame and . . . waddling into the library. "I just walked over here, and have decided that I am not walking home. Daniel's going to have to come over and pick me up, or I will take up residence here, getting larger and larger and larger." She grimaced, bending slightly to hold onto a chair arm, before slowly lowering herself onto one of the hard wooden chairs. She arched her back, her expression appearing to be more grimace than smile. "These two are killing my back," she grumbled, nodding to her swollen abdomen, and her two unborn children. "I didn't enjoy being pregnant with any of you children," she sighed, as she tried to find a comfortable position. "Oh . . . being pregnant with you, was an adventure . . . until the morning sickness started. After that, the excitement ended. You, at least, were well behaved. Your brother certainly was not. He kicked. So did Abigail, and Opie." Bea shook her head, brushing a strand away from her face. "Opie! That girl! She wanted out, at six months! I could just imagine her wanting to give me a piece of her mind for keeping her trapped." She smiled, thinking of her youngest daughter, who was never loath to give her opinion on any subject. "Now I'm carrying two of 'em, and they're either fighting one another, or something, because it sure feels like that's what's going on, and I have grown to hate it! I talk to them in a stern voice, but . . . do they listen?" She snorted an unamused laugh. "I certainly hope they'll have all that punching and stuff out of their system before they're born, because I don't look forward to eighteen, or more, years of arguing. I've only started to enjoy peace and quiet." Her voice changed, as she turned to her oldest son, who was standing close-by. "Now, there's you . . . the mild mannered, well behaved one, who never did anything wrong. Now . . . you are the one who has me scared to death." "Mama . . ." "Sit!" Bea said, pointing to a chair, then softened the word by adding, "I don't like having to look up at you, and . . . Owen . . . really . . . do try to get fully dressed next time you decide to go on a walk through town. It may be dark outside, but yellow underwear, which verges on the fluorescent, and which barely covers you, would surely attract attention. And, really, Owen . . . even with your almost total lack of clothing sense, you should know that you never wear black, unlaced, leather shoes, while wearing nothing but a smile, and a pair of almost non-existent underwear. Whatever happened to boxer underwear? They seem sensible." She studied him and grinned, as she shook her head. "You are quite a sight . . . my very handsome and very angry son. When did you start buying this sort of underwear, by the way?" "Um . . . they're not mine." Bea frowned, then shook her head. "No, Bea," she mumbled. "Don't ask." She paused, as she tried to find a comfortable position. "And . . . don't try to cover yourself up!" she laughed. "If you tug too hard, something might fall out. I've been drawing attention to your clothes, or lack thereof, in an effort to try and stop being bitchy, but being bitchy is the prerogative of a pregnant woman, especially a pregnant woman bearing twins. "Have I told you the names of your brother and sister?" "Names?" Owen said, as he sank to a chair, unconsciously tugging up the waistband of his underwear, in an attempt to hide the top of his pubes, then glancing to see if the tug had exposed anything else. "It is traditional for children to be given names; though I guess I could call them, one and two." "Mama," Owen laughed. "Good, I got you to laugh. Your brother's name is Colby, and your sister's Rachel. You like?" Owen nodded, opening and closing his mouth, unable to speak, then knelt at his mother's side and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry for being the cause of you having to walk cross-country to come check on me." "The walk from the house to the library is hardly cross-country; though, believe me, I would circle the globe . . . pregnant . . . if you needed me." She reached for his chin and tilted it up. "Believe me, Mister, that is saying something, when I dread having to cross a room. "Now, tell me what's going on. The guys are frantic. Your brother is beyond frantic. Corey called me . . . the calmest of the bunch, I must say . . . with your brother on the opposite end of the scale. "Corey said that you believe the guys have rearranged their lives so they can be watching out for you day-in-day-out, and that you decided to spend some time alone rather than get into a shouting match." "Corey's too kind; but, yes, that's basically the problem." "What is the problem?" "Huh?" "Simple. What is the problem? Back there, at the apartment, there are four men who love you like life itself; four men who want to do whatever they can to help you get through your misery." She held up a hand. "I don't want to sound flip, or uncaring. I know you're continuing to suffer because of your treatment by your father, and I understand. Each of us are dealing with some sort of legacy of his, though yours is, by far and away, the worst. In case you need simple words . . . they want to help." "What about your misery, Mama?" "We're not discussing me, at the moment, Owen. We're discussing those men back there in the apartment who love you enough to do their own version of circling the globe for you. Admittedly, since they're not pregnant, the effort is not quite the same as a mother's, but . . . you get the idea; or you should. They love you. They love you like I've never thought people could love. It is embarrassing sometimes to just watch all of you. Yet, those are the men you have . . . " Bea's eyes widened. She shifted position and cleared her throat. "Sweetheart, would you please hand me the telephone? I need to call Daniel . . . now." "Oh . . . okay!" Owen quickly handed his mother the phone, noticing how she punched in the telephone number with shaking fingers. "Hi, dear," she said, trying to sound cheery, even though a sweat had broken out on her brow and she'd grabbed Owen's hand and was squeezing hard. "It's me. I've had my talk with Owen, and would like to know if you could drive over and pick me up, so we can drive to the hospital. I think the babies have finally decided to fight themselves free. Um . . . you'd better hurry." She hung up the phone and tried to smile around a grimace. "This is very unpleasant," she said, as she bit her lower lip and cradled her abdomen. "Mama, are you gonna be okay?" Owen cried. She patted his hand. "Hell if I know! Right now, I . . . . DAMN!" She shouted to the ceiling. "Right now, it sure doesn't feel like I'm gonna be . . . truly." She did her best to smile. "Now, be a good boy. Go home and get yourself covered up." Her attempt at laughter transformed into a look of intense pain, as she anxiously looked over her shoulder, toward the library door, obviously wishing her husband would hurry up. "When you're home, I guess there won't be any need t'cover up, will there? Do you boys ever wear clothes? DANIEL! Where the hell are you?" Her shout was answered by her husband bringing the car to a squealing stop in front of the library. Without saying a word, Daniel rushed in, claimed his wife, and, with Owen's help, managed to load her into the back seat of the car, where she lay down. "I'll tell your brother and sister 'hi' for you, Owen!" she called, as Daniel shut the door to the car. He watched from the door, as Daniel spun the car's wheels, leaving the smell of burning rubber, as the vehicle lurched forward with a squeal of protest. A moment later, Jonah burst out of the apartment building and ran down the street, heading for the library. "Owennnn!" he shouted, as he burst into the library, followed a few moments later by the other men, all, but Lucas, having hastily thrown on some sort of clothing, some of which made Owen's brief yellow underwear look downright conservative. Jonah stood a few steps inside the library, his chest heaving. "You just scared the living daylights out of me! You know that?" he asked, his voice rising. "You go off to spend some time alone, lookin' mad as all get out; then, a few minutes later, we hear some wild-ass driver from hell, screeching down the fuckin road!" he shouted, vaguely pointing toward the nearby street. "What are we supposed to think? HUH?" he added, turning back to his brother. "Hell, for all we know you could have been lying out there, run over by Maxine, or something. You're drawn to trouble like that, you know? Trouble sometimes seems to seek you out, and just cause you're bulging with muscles and have stomach muscles firm enough to bounce a ball off of, doesn't mean you can always take care of yourself," he said, his anger exhausting itself. "Owen . . ." he began, then quieted, as Corey lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We were worried," Sam said, in summation. "We wouldn't worry like we do, if we didn't love you, Owen," Lucas added. "We apologize for thinking that you need to be watched. We don't want anything to happen to you. "'Cause we wouldn't want to go on without you," Sam added. "Forever and always," he reminded Owen, using the phrase they vowed to one another. "Until the end of our days," Lucas added. "Are we forgiven?" Jonah asked. "You've got'a remember that nothing you do is gonna make us not worry about you, just like we'd worry about any of us who needed worrying about, no matter how much you hate us worrying, we worry . . ." Jonah paused, appearing confused. "Um . . ." "Don't worry," Corey smiled, patting his partner's shoulder and drawing a frown in return, while Lucas and Sam snickered. The corner of Owen's mouth curled into a hint of a smile, as Corey poked at Jonah, doing his best to tease him into a better mood. "The squealing car was Daniel," Owen said, resting a restraining hand on Corey's arm. "Mama came over to give me a piece of her mind about wearing yellow . . . revealing . . . underwear in public, when she decided it was time to have the twins. She did tell me I looked handsome, though. Geez," he said, looking down at himself. "My pubes are on display . . . for my mother! I might as well have been nekkid!" "She's already seen your equipment,"Corey grinned. "Besides, it sounds like she had other things on her mind, than gawking at all the skin her son was showing off." Corey turned to the other men. "He's the one who likes to parade around half-nekkid, giving everyone a chance to comment on his body . . . He's gotten tired of us tellin' him he's sexy as all get-out, and has decided to take his show on the road." "You're wearing my shoes," Lucas added. "You shouldn't run around dressed in underwear and a pair of black leather shoes. Imagine what Bailey would say!" Owen grinned, imagining Bailey's pointed comments. "Next time, I'll throw on a sport coat. At least I pulled on some underwear! " So . . . Daniel came by, got Mama into the back seat, and they were off like a bat out of hell." "You're wearing my underwear!" Corey noticed. "Hey, take those things off! You'll stretch 'em all out of shape." "Well . . . if these are yours, whose are you wearing?" Owen asked. "Besides, your shoes don't match." "Babies!" Jonah squawked, as everyone looked toward Corey, to his underwear, and mismatched shoes. "She decided to have 'em now?" "Jonah, I don't think it's like your mother to demand a dress rehearsal," Sam added, in a dry voice. "And don't tell me you didn't realize she was pregnant. I mean, the woman's the size of a barn!" Owen's eyes shifted to the front door of the library, imagining Daniel driving to the Evanston hospital. He smiled, wondering what his mother would think of Sam's description of her as being as large as a barn. "Um . . . Mama told me she and Daniel have named the twins Rachel and Colby." "We're all gonna get t'be big brothers!" Corey laughed, in delight. "These children are going to be the most spoiled the world has ever seen," Lucas murmured. "Between Abigail and Opie, and all of us, Daniel and Bea will hardly ever see them. They'll have to ask to have them back." "Maybe we can convince Mama to have a couple more," Jonah suggested, looking toward his brother to see what he thought of the idea. "Um, I wouldn't ask that if I were you," Owen murmured. "She's already been reduced to saying hell and damn . . . loudly. There's no tellin' what she's gonna be shouting by the time they get to the hospital." "Ohhhh," Jonah said, his eyes widening. "Mama never talks like that. No matter what." "Well, if you suggest she have a couple more children, I think she'll prob'ly say lots more than hell and damn." "So . . ." Sam began, intent on changing the subject. Owen sighed. "Don't worry. Things are cool. I'm sorry I stormed off like I did, but . . ." He shrugged. "I don't like the idea of me and my problems causin' you guys to have t'change your lives." "You had every right to give us a piece of your mind, and leave the apartment," Lucas interrupted. "We got the message. We understand your feelings. Please try to understand ours. Sam and I truly are changing things around so we can better manage the business. A side benefit is that one of us will be able to sleep at your side, almost every night." "You're pretty important t'all of us," Corey added, all teasing aside. "When you're hurting, we all hurt with you. We want to do whatever we can to help out. We're not treating you special, though. If another of us guys needed help, we'd all team-up to help. Right?" Owen bowed his head. "You're right." He reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder. "I'll do my best to remember." "And, we'll do the same," Sam added, joining Lucas, as they moved to their partner's side. "Now, I want my underwear back," Corey grumbled. "I'm horny," Jonah murmured, to no one in particular. "I'm hungry," Owen added. "Now there's the man we all know and love, speaking," Sam smiled, wondering what magic Owen's mother had worked. * * * It was a largely silent group of men who walked back to the apartment. "I'm reminded of that old children's story," Owen said, only loud enough for his voice to carry to his companions. "A while ago, when we were all worked up, being less than half dressed wasn't a problem, and, no one saw us. Now, that everything's settled, it's like the emperor who finally realized he was naked. We're embarrassed by how we're dressed, and sure someone's going to come along and cause problems." "I'm dressed," Lucas murmured, returning to using a playful voice. 'How long before we have another scene?' he wondered, flicking a glance to the blond-haired man walking beside him. 'Between stuff like tonight, and the nightmares, everything is coming more frequently. Something's got to happen, otherwise Owen's not the only one who's going to go nuts.' "I'm more dressed than usual," Owen teased, leading to a chorus of agreement, as the other men added their own comments of, "me, too." Owen flopped onto the apartment's living room sofa, gesturing for his partners to join him. "I was all set t'come back here and apologize to everyone, when Mama showed up at the library. She gave me a dressing-down for my behavior, telling me the same things I'd figured out a bit earlier. "I'm sorry, guys," he said, gathering Lucas and Sam to him. "Even as I was arguing with you about you guys changing your schedules around, to keep an eye on me, I knew I shouldn't be upset. Instead, I should be thinking how lucky I am to have two guys love me enough to do such a thing. "I'll have to give Bailey a call and let him know things are okay between us all. I'm sure he's worried." Owen turned to Lucas. "I know you n'Bailey have had your differences, Lucas, but, deep down, you know he's a good guy. I felt you tense up when I mentioned his name. He's not at fault for saying anything. If you're going to be upset with anyone, be upset with me, not him." Owen turned to his other partner. "You, too, Sam. I'm the one at fault here; not Bailey." He heaved a sigh. "I'm pooped, but I'm worried about Mama, too. You should'a seen her, guys. She looked like she was 'bout ready to . . . bam . . . have those babies right in front of me! Geez, we don't even know if Daniel got t'Evanston in time for her to have 'em in the hospital." He laughed. "Can you imagine Mama having 'em in the back seat of Daniel's car, as he's driving like a bat out of hell? That road's none too smooth in places. It's just not . . . cool . . . to have the doctor driving, while the woman's in the back seat, having a couple babies! Lucas interrupted the silence as both Sam and Owen contemplated such a scenario. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think we should give Abigail and Opie a call, then wake the guys, and go see for ourselves, how she and the babies are doing. I'm not going to get any sleep, wondering if they're okay . . . not to mention, Daniel. The closer Bea's gotten to her delivery date, the worse he's become." * * * "Jonah," Owen softly knocked on the door frame to Corey's and Jonah's bedroom. "Y'awake?" "I am now," Jonah grumbled, a voice in the darkness. "What's going on?" "The guys and I are gonna go to Evanston, t'see if Mama's okay. I wanted t'know if you guys would like t'come along." "I hate riding in the back of that pick up," Jonah muttered, "but . . . for Mama . . . sure." He paused. "I've gotta ask this. Owen, do you see any similarity to what you're asking us to do, with what you were complaining about, earlier this evening?" Owen responded in a sheepish voice. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. Thank you for reminding me, though. Now, hurry up and get dressed. We're ready t'go." "Go?" Corey mumbled, only now waking up. "Where are we going? We just got back." "To Evanston, t'be with Mama and Daniel," Jonah answered, as he turned on a bedside lamp. Corey threw off the bed sheet, instantly, fully awake. "Well, why didn't you say so? Lemme find my underwear, first." "We better wear more than that," Jonah chuckled, admiring the sight of Corey bending over to pick up the same briefs Owen had worn earlier in the evening. "I know that! I intend to wear shoes, too. Well . . . if Owen can do it!" he began, ducking when Jonah threw a pillow in his direction. "No primping, guys." Owen called from the doorway. "You're pretty enough just as you are," Sam added. "In a woodsy sort of way," Lucas called, unseen. "Yeah, like unwashed lumberjacks," Owen teased. "No, I'm just teasing," he said, when Corey turned a questioning look in his direction. "You're fine. By the time we get back, you'll be the perfect ripeness for Jonah's taste." "Uuuuu, I'm looking forward to it. First, though, I wanna see if Mama's okay, and say hi to our new brother and sister. Did you guys call Abigail and Opie?" "They're ready for us to pick them up," Owen said, as the men trooped down the stairway, Corey still in the process of tucking in his shirt and adjusting his glasses. "Lucas is driving. The rest of us are in the back of the truck. The ladies are riding up front with Lucas." * * * "This isn't Owen's library," Corey said, as everyone spoke in a hushed whisper. "We can talk normally." "If you think the library's quiet, you haven't been spending enough time visiting," Owen laughed, then quieted as they trooped into the maternity waiting room and found a beaming Daniel, speaking with one of the nurses. "Daniel!" Jonah called. "What's . . ." "I'm a father!" Daniel laughed, rushing across the room and giving each of the men a hug. "Bea and I did it!" "Of course you did it," Owen said, in an undertone. "That's how babies are made . . . doctor. Besides, you've been waiting for nine months. The result shouldn't come as a surprise. Is Mama okay?" "And, our brother and sister?" Opie added. "We can't forget about them!" "Yes! Yes, they're all fine!" Daniel's voice quieted. "It was really sweet. The moment the staff gave Bea both babies to hold, right after she sort'a introduced me and told them how much she and I loved them, she told them that she'd promised to tell them 'hello' from you all, and how they were going to have the very best sisters and brothers in the whole world." Daniel paused, looking from Lucas, to Sam and Corey. "She was talking about you guys, too. We're all family, y'know." "Can we see her?" Owen asked, anxiously glancing toward the nearby corridor. Daniel consulted with one of the hospital staff, who glanced at the waiting . . . mob, and reluctantly nodded. "Only one at a time, though, and only for a minute each. Bea's worn out," he explained, as he led everyone down the quiet hallway. "Owen?" he said, opening the door and motioning him into the room. "You go first." "Mama?" Owen murmured, when the door had closed behind him. "Owen! Sweetheart," Bea said, in a groggy voice, as if he'd awakened her. "I told your brother and sister 'hi,'' for you . . . just as I promised," she smiled, as he crossed the room to her bedside. "For me and everyone else," Owen gently corrected, as he leaned close and kissed his mother's forehead. "Yes, of course, but I gave them a special 'hello' from their big brother." "Thank you, Mama." Owen paused, as he closed his eyes, bowed his head, and rubbed his forehead. His mouth opened and closed. Finally, he found his voice. "You don't know how much . . ." his voice caught. "You sayin' that means a lot t'me." He sniffed, then studied the two sleeping babies, one at each side of his mother. "Um . . . which is which?" Bea smiled, looking from one baby to the other, before assuming a puzzled expression. "I forget. I know they told me, but . . . Oh! Look on their bracelet." Owen tenderly adjusted the bracelet on the first baby. "May I?" he asked. Bea nodded once, and watched, with watery eyes, as Owen leaned close and tenderly kissed the first baby's forehead. "Hi'ya, Rachel," he murmured. "I'm your big brother, and I wanna tell you that you are the prettiest little girl I have ever seen. I bet'cha you're gonna grow up to be as beautiful as Mama." He walked around the bed, and kissed his brother's forehead. "And . . . Colby," he said, tenderly smiling when the baby boy grasped his forefinger in a tight grip. "I can tell, you n'I are gonna be best buddies. "I can't wait 'til you're old enough for the two of us to be able to play," Owen murmured. "When I was growing up, I never got t'play. Things are gonna be different with you. You and your sister are gonna have the very best childhood ever . . . I promise." He leaned close and kissed, first his brother, then his mother. "I promise," he repeated, as a tear left a silvery trail over his mother's cheek. He took a moment to compose himself, then gave his mother another kiss. "The guys told me to give you their love. They're in the hall, but said they'll wait until you all come home to give you a hug." He opened the door, wide enough for his sisters and brother to come into the room, and for Sam, Lucas, and Corey to wave. "Hi, boys," Bea said, moved by the attention. "I'd wave, but my arms are full, at the moment. Thank you all, so much, for coming to visit. It's great to have all my boys here." "Y'okay?" Daniel asked Owen, resting an arm over the young man's shoulders, as the hospital room door swung shut, silencing Opie's excited voice. "Oh, yeah," Owen murmured, with a far away look in his eyes. After a moment he focused on Daniel. "I'm way more'n okay," he answered, around a lump in his throat. His mouth melted into a smile. "I was just thinking that the three times in my life I've been most happy are . . . today, meeting little Colby and Rachel; on the day Lucas first told me he loved me; and when Sammy n'I met." He invited both of his partners to his side, and wrapped a possessive arm around each man's waist, as a smile played with the corners of his mouth. "You've got to excuse me. Feeling the way I do right now, and seein' Mama so happy . . . well, it's great. She's been through so much. "This is all because of you, Daniel. You were her protector, just like Sammy and Lucas look out after me." He glanced from Lucas to Sam, some sort of silent conversation taking place. "You've brought her more happiness than she's known in who knows how many years." He shrugged, slightly. "I don't know what to say, other than thank you. Mama couldn't have fallen in love with a better man." Owen's eyes widened. "Oh, I forgot to say congratulations!" He enveloped Daniel in a fierce hug. "You're gonna be a wonderful father. From here on out, that house is gonna be full of laughter." "Thank you, Owen. I just hope the babies grow to be just like their big brother." Owen's smile faltered. "Let's hope they're not just like him." He shook his head, looking away, as if casting aside troublesome thoughts. "I told Colby and Rachel that Mama, you, Abigail and Opie, plus all of us guys, are gonna make sure they have the very best childhood, ever."
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