---

Owen's adrenaline-induced shaking had finally diminished, leaving him exhausted. His normally sparkling eyes were dull grey, as he answered the questions asked by the Evanston police. When one of the officers appeared ready to comment on Lucas' arm resting on Owen's shoulder, and Sam's and Owen's linked fingers, a quelling look from Lucas made him stammer a moment, then say something else.

The interview had finally wound to its conclusion, yet townsfolk continued to mill around, speculating on the deranged woman Owen had so neatly handled.

'Owen's going to have to set these folks straight,' Lucas thought, as he listened to several versions of what had happened, each tale growing more distorted with each telling. He smiled, wondering how people thought the diminutive woman could have possibly been able to kidnap Owen, even if she did have a gun. The most common version, though, had the woman demanding . . . something . . . no one knew what; and when Owen refused, the woman shot Opie, and would have killed her if Nicky hadn't intervened and attacked the woman with one of his precious books.

"Y'alright, Owen?" Millie asked, as Hank hustled everyone out of the library.

"The boy's had enough excitement for one day!" Hank said, calling to townsfolk who were disappointed not to have a chance to hear what had happened. "Y'all can talk to him once he's had a chance to get some rest, okay? Now . . . let's all leave him and the guys alone. What d'ya say?"

Owen tiredly smiled, "Yes, Millie. I'm better than I ever have been." He leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you for being such a true friend t'me and the guys. Now . . . I've gotta go lie down."

Millie's lower lip trembled and a tear ran down her cheek as Hank gathered her close. Her eyes shifted from Owen to Lucas, who smiled encouragingly, as Owen made sure all of the library's lights were turned off, and as he, Lucas, Sam, Millie, and Hank left the building, and locked the door.

"Hello . . . Riley?" Lucas asked, his voice suddenly unsteady, as his friend answered the phone. Lucas, Sam, and Owen had finally made it back to the apartment, and trudged up the steps. Sam followed Owen to the bedroom, glancing worriedly over his shoulder at Lucas, who was left with the unenviable task of notifying Riley and Nathan of their mother's sudden appearance, the events at the library, the men who'd taken her away, and finally, the possibility that the men were not FBI Agents, as they claimed.

From where Lucas stood, talking to Riley, he could see Owen hugging Sam, resting his head on his lover's shoulder.

"Oh, Sammy," he murmured. "I feel like I've been drained dry." He stepped back, slightly, looking into his lover's worried eyes, then kissed him, gently. "Don't look so worried. I'm fine . . . truly. I'm just worn out. For the first time in my life, I'm free." He huffed a soft laugh. "I'm a little overwhelmed with everything, is all."

"Y'sure?"

Owen rested his head on Sam's shoulder, welcoming his friend's strength. "Oh, yes. Y'know, I think whatever I did, back at the library, was by instinct. I didn't have time t'think about any of it before I acted. That makes everything that happened, mean even more t'me."

"Um . . . was your father . . . involved?" Sam hesitated to ask.

Owen heaved a sigh. "Oh, yeah, though it wasn't really him, was it? It's never been him . . . doing all the things I've been worrying about . . . has it?" Owen didn't wait for an answer. "Everyone was sort'a telling me everything was all in my mind; but, I wouldn't listen. It was all so real, I didn't see how it could be.

"Back there, when I was holding Elizabeth, one part of my mind, the part I always thought was Pops, was shoutin' for me t'do one thing, and another part was asking me to choose who I wanted to be, for t'rest of my life . . . Jonathan, or Owen. I was at the fork in the road I've always feared. Elizabeth was pushin' me to do one thing. It was like she wanted to be hurt. But . . . when I saw her fear, it only made me sick that I was causing it. People like her and Pops felt powerful when they caused other people to be afraid. I learned, for sure, that t there was no pleasure for me in making her afraid of me. It was then I knew that I don't have any part of that man in me."

His mouth soundlessly worked, as he tried to speak. "I've won, Sammy. Right now . . . I'm feelin' numb, but I won. Haven't I?" he asked, in a disbelieving voice. "I'm no longer thinking about tryin' to please him, or hear him say he loves me. It's never gonna happen. I'm sort'a slow 'bout some things, and this is one of 'em. To think that I . . . I imagined everything! It was torture, Sammy! Sometimes . . . I . . . just didn't see how I could go on havin' to listen t'him. If it weren't for you and Lucas, I don't think I could have gotten this far." Owen shook his head. "It scares me, thinking about the things I did.

"He . . . he tried to apologize, there in the courtroom, just before he died. I didn't believe him. He'd never apologized for anything, yet there he was, tellin' me he loved me and . . ." Owen's voice caught. "And, that he was proud of me. I should have listened. Jonah did. I didn't. Too much had happened between him and me. I wouldn't let go of the anger I felt.

"Still, whether it was him hounding me, or my own subconscious, or whatever, I really was afraid I would end up being just like him. I didn't think I had a choice. Someday, something would happen, and things would just . . . snap . . . and I'd be him. That scared me, Sammy. That's why I didn't want t'go on. I couldn't bear the thought of hurting someone . . . especially a child.

"Back there . . . in the library . . . I finally realized all those things I've been fearing weren't real. I was making them up. I was acting like I didn't deserve to be happy. I'd lived in pain for so long, I had to continue being in pain to be . . . happy. He was a crutch, wasn't he? I needed the fear of Pops, the memory of what he did to me, and the fear that I might do the same things as him, to be happy, yet, at the same time, I was making myself miserable.

"I mean, no matter what happened t'me, I could always blame him. I was sort'a never responsible for anything. He made me do whatever it was. I'd given him control of my life."

"Now what?" Sam murmured.

"I guess I'm gonna have to learn to like myself, won't I? I need t'take responsibility for everything I do. That part of my life was awful, but . . . it's over with. He's dead n'gone. I've won!"

"You're going to have to come up with a definition of what it means to be Owen, not, 'poor Owen, Jonathan Carver's son.' That's prob'ly not gonna be an easy thing t'do."

"But, you n'Lucas'll be with me."

"Oh, yes," Sam murmured, nuzzling Owen's hair. "Forever and always . . . remember?"

Owen sniffed. "To the end of our days."

* * *

"Riley . . . I have news," Lucas began, as he stepped out of the apartment, leaving Sam and Owen, so they could talk in peace.

"Owen? No! He's fine." Lucas took a steadying breath. "It turned out he was right, though. Your mother was heading to Riverton. She showed up at the library.

"Riley, wait 'til I'm finished!" Lucas called. He shook his head, as he heard Riley shout to the others that Elizabeth was in Riverton.

"Put him on the speakerphone!" Bailey shouted. Then, before anyone else could speak, he shouted. "How's Owen?"

"Guys! Lucas began. "Owen's in perfect shape. Perfect! Bailey! He says he's defeated his father."

"Hallelujah!" he heard Bailey shout in the background, accompanied by cheers from Riley and Nathan.

"What about Mother?" Nathan called out.

"Well," Lucas began. "She showed up, looking for you guys. Owen and his little sister were the only people in the library, when she walked in and confronted Owen, asking him where you guys were, n'stuff. There was a struggle of some sort. She drew a gun and shot Owen's little sister in the leg."

"Shit!" Riley shouted.

"Is she okay?" Bailey shouted, over the sound of talking in the background.

Lucas barked a laugh. "I guess so. I haven't heard anything official yet. Daniel and Bea took her to the hospital, over in Evanston. Opie, though, thought being shot was soooo cool. She was showing everyone the blood, and refused to part with the T-shirt Corey used to wrap around her leg until medical help arrived. She always did like Corey, and now, she thinks he's about one step below divine. Of course, it was the first time she saw him without a shirt. He has that effect on people."

"What about Mother?" Nathan shouted.

"Your mother fell down and was struggling to reach the gun when Owen . . . Excuse me guys. There's no easy way . . ."

"He killed her?" Riley asked.

"No! She was on the floor, reaching for the gun. Owen . . . stomped on her forearm, to keep her from reaching the gun. He shattered the bones . . . pretty bad, from what it looked like to me. Ugh. Elizabeth screamed, but was so worked up, though, that she hardly seemed to notice.

"Anyhow, by the time Jonah and I got there, Owen had bunched up the front of her jacket and had her up against the wall, her feet about six inches from touching the floor. It was quite a sight, as she tried to bargain with him to release her. She promised close to everything imaginable, but Owen never batted an eye. He just held her up there, as if she didn't weigh anything. Well . . . she couldn't thrash around too much because of her broken arm, and she couldn't breathe too well, because of how he was holding her, but that didn't keep her from spitting in Owen's face a couple times, and calling him all sorts of names."

"Sounds just like something she'd do," Nathan grumbled.

"Guys," Lucas said. "The woman seemed totally out of touch with reality . . . totally. She kept talking about her powerful friends, and how they'd take care of him, after they'd finished with you all, of course."

"So . . . what'd he do with her?" Bailey asked. "Don't you dare tell me he's still over at the library waiting for some sort of law enforcement personnel to arrive."

"Well . . ."

"He's not, is he?" Bailey squawked.

"No. Well . . ."

"Well, what?" Nathan cried. "So, he broke her arm. Did he kill her, or something?"

"No, but two guys showed up and took her away. They said they were with the FBI; but, in retrospect, no one seems to think so. Everything was happening so fast. There little Opie was . . . bleeding. Your mother was screaming, kicking n'all, while Owen held her up against the wall. Plus, the whole town seemed to have shown up, wanting t'know what was going on. No one thought to ask questions when these two guys showed up.

"She'd been screaming, wanting to be let go, but the moment they took her, she was screaming that they were gonna kill her. She seemed really afraid of them. So . . . right now, we don't know where she is. Corey was the only one to think something strange was going on. He managed to take some pics of the guys, their car, and license plate, so the Evanston police are presumably doing something to track her down."

Riley grumbled. "As long as she's not on the loose, is all I, personally, care about. I'm sorry this all had to end up on Owen's lap, but . . ."

"We don't know that she's not . . . on the loose, I mean," Nathan shouted, interrupting his brother.

"What do you want, Nathan?" Bailey hollered. "Her head on a plate?"

"Yes!" Nathan bellowed, without missing a beat. "Even then, I wouldn't be totally sure that she might not have set some sort of crazy plan into action, with Dad and us being dead, as the goal. We figure she was the one behind ol' Gustav Winton's death. What's to have kept her from paying someone to kill us, too?"

The room went silent, as everyone stopped to think about what Nathan had said.

"You're seriously trying to ruin our day, aren't you?" Riley asked his brother.

"No . . . but I am serious. I'm scared, guys. Even now, I'm scared. I guess I'll be less so, once we know she's in custody, or dead, but . . . right now . . . we don't know much more than she was in Riverton, and that a couple guys picked her up. Hell, they could have been in cahoots with her, or something. We don't know."

"You may be right," Lucas heard Bailey say, "but I believe it's more likely that you're seeking out some sort of trouble where none exists. Where does fear stop? What is required? If her head on a plate isn't good enough, nothing will be! You can't go through life constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering when or if someone might strike.

"I told your father that I'd stay in this apartment, until we had more news. Well . . . this qualifies as more news. I'm leaving. I'm going to Riverton, to be with my friends, and to start taking a personal hand in running the business. Riley?" Lucas heard him ask.

After a few moments, Lucas heard Riley's reluctant response. "Yeah, me, too, I guess. You're right, Gen'rl, but so's Nathan."

"Thank you for calling and letting us know what's been happening, Lucas," Bailey said, as he picked up the phone, leaving the three brothers to discuss what to do. "Give Opie a kiss for me, and Owen a hug. I'll be out to see you soon. I'm not sure about what the guys' plans are, but I'll be there." He lowered his voice, "Now that Owen's . . . better, I'm hoping the world will contain much less drama for you and Sam."

Lucas laughed, touched by his friend's words. "Thanks, Bailey; but with you due to arrive soon, we've just exchanged one sort of drama for another."

"Funny, Lucas. Very funny."

* * *

The night was silent, the moon casting pale shadows on the leaves overhead, and onto the three men who walked hand-in-hand along the edge of the slowly moving river. "What sort of thing belonged to those eyes we saw back there?" Lucas asked, in a worried voice. "I thought this place was pretty much animal-free."

"Just a deer," Sam said. "They're more afraid of you than you are of them."

"I doubt it, Sam," Lucas mumbled, half to himself. "I seriously doubt it. It probably smells the box dinners that Sally packed for us, over at the restaurant, and is determined to have them, the moment we turn our backs."

"Unless Sally packed you a salad, you've got nothing to worry about." It was the first words Owen had spoken since leaving the apartment, and they caused Lucas to breathe a sigh of relief. If Owen was able to make a joke, even one as bad as that, it meant it wasn't likely he'd be spiraling into a bout of depression.

Overhead, the night birds rustled and chattered spasmodically in the branches, as the three men made their way from the rocks lining the river bank, to the expanse of grass, surrounded by dense trees, and sank to the blanket Lucas spread.

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" Owen asked, as he contemplated the moonlit meadow, the over arching trees, and the river beyond. The three men leaned into one another, their bodies becoming one.

"I'm feelin' like this meadow is where my life truly started. It was the last place I visited, before leaving for college; and, next to Sammy, was the most difficult to leave."

"After greeting Jonah and your mother, it was the first place you and Sam brought me to, when you and I came back to Riverton," Lucas recalled. "To see the fireflies. I never could have imagined such a place as this. The fragrance of the grass, and flowers. Being loved by both of you." His voice caught. "I remember thinking, as the three of us stepped into the middle of the meadow, surrounded by the blinking of the fireflies, that I'd come home. I was in love with the two greatest men in the world . . . both of whom loved me, in return, and I'd come home."

Sam spoke in a quiet voice, almost as if he would disturb the meadow, if he spoke too loudly. "I came out here often, when you were gone, off to college, Owen. I'd do some crying, but mostly, I could still feel your love. It was like you were still here, with me. The meadow made you being away from me easier to handle.

"Then, when you came back and you both came over to Mom's and Dad's place, to tell me the fireflies were back, I realized this . . . special . . . place would mean as much to Lucas as it did to you and me."

He paused, leaning into Lucas' embrace. "Then . . . that night, I remember Lucas bending over and picking up one of the tiny yellow flowers and handing it to me. He leaned close and murmured, "Thank you for allowing me to be a part of yours and Owen's life." Sam sniffed. "I knew, right then, that I would love Lucas, just as I do you, Owen. I knew that the three of us would be together."

"Forever and always," Owen murmured.

"To the end of our days," Lucas concluded.

* * *

Owen climbed the steps to his mother's home, the same home he'd grown up in, and where he'd lived in misery, until heading for college.

"Mama!" he called. "Daniel!" The calls were met with silence. "Anyone at all, home?"

"I'll wait," he murmured, as he pulled open the screen door and stepped inside the immaculately clean house. "Helloooo!" he called, as he wandered from room to room, pausing to glance into the bedroom he and his brother had shared.

"Well, old man," he said, aloud, speaking in a conversational tone, as he wandered into the large room with it's enormous bed. Owen smiled, recalling how vast the bed had seemed, when he was a child, and how he and Jonah had needed a step stool to be able to climb . . . aboard.

He smiled, as he dragged a hand over the nubbly fabric of the bedspread, then crossed the room and picked up a polished rock he'd treasured, as a young boy, only to have his father grab it from his hand.

'I guess Mama got it back,' he thought, as he ran his thumb over the slippery surface.

"Jonah was right about you tryin' to apologize. He was right. You did try, and I've got'a admit it. You tryin', though, doesn't mean I have to forget what you did t'me, and to our family. I can never do that. It's impossible.

"Now that it's all over, I've finally figured out that you weren't really breathing down my neck, all the time, tellin' me how worthless I am, n'all. Those were things you told me, when I was a child. I believed what you said. I knew I was a good guy, yet I always wondered if you were . . . somehow . . . right.

"Jonah's right, though. You did try to make amends. But dammit! What did you expect me t'do?" Owen paused, breathing deeply, reining in emotions which threatened to explode.

"I'm never gonna call you Pops again, Jonathan. If I have to refer to you, I will use your first name. As far as I'm concerned, no matter how much you did, during those couple minutes, there on the Evanston Courthouse floor, it could not make up for over eighteen years of torture!

"I will do my best to forgive, but don't you ever expect me to forget! I won! I am a decent man, who knows how to love, and is loved in return. I always wanted your love or approval. I wanted what every child wants, but I was askin' for something you were incapable of giving. Today . . . right now . . . I realize that I no longer care what you thought of me. I don't care if you loved me or not. I don't care!

"I am not my father's son. I never was. I never will be. I am OWEN!" he shouted to a spot on the wall, where he remembered his father standing and screaming at him and his brother. Owen tore his eyes away from that spot, and the image of his red-faced father. He heaved a couple deep breaths, then concluded.

"So . . . wherever you are, if it's possible for you to know what I'm saying, I hope you're happy. I'd hate to think you're continuing to suffer. I'm not sayin' that because you were my father, but because I am Owen, and I'm nothing at all like you."

He quickly pivoted at the sound of his little sister's voice. "Can I yell at him, too?" Opie asked, opening the screen door and limping into the house, her movements hampered by the thick bandage on her leg. "I need t'tell him a couple things," she added, wearing a determined look.

She limped to her brother's side, brushed a strand of blond hair out of her eyes, straightened her back, and planted both fists on her hips.

"Now, it's my turn!" she shouted, toward the same spot her brother had been facing. "Like Owen said, you didn't win, old man," she shouted, pointing a finger at the unseen man. "You didn't win, 'cause Mama and Owen didn't let you win. No one could have a better mother or brother than I do.

"I saw what you did to Mama, shouting at her and slapping her around, giving her a black eye n'all. I saw all that, but I didn't see what you did to Owen. No one did. But he was stronger than you! He wouldn't let you win! You're a bad man . . . Jonathan . . . an awful man t'be treating Mama and Owen like you did.

"Owen protected me and Abigail and Jonah from you. He always has!" Opie seemed to deflate. "Now, you're dead n'gone." She bowed her head. "I'm glad."

"Well, I've had my say," she finished, brushing her hands together, as if dusting them off. She turned to her older brother, who was watching her with wide eyes. "Thank you, Owen," she said, moving clumsily to hug him around the waist, and murmur an 'I love you,' with her face pressed against his shirt.

He fell to his knees and returned her embrace. "You really feel that way about me?" Opie nodded, without releasing him.

"I'm not too good at protecting you, though, am I? After all, I didn't stop you from being shot."

"I'm not talking about that. That was an accident. I'm talking about how you protected Abigail and me . . . from him," the little girl said.

"Huh? I'm not sure I understand."

Opie gave him a look of exasperation.

"You protected Abigail and me from Pops. You let him beat on you, to keep him from beating on Abigail n'me. We've talked about what you did for us, Owen. That's what makes you such an awesome brother. That's why Nicky calls you his brother. You are a good guy. You look out for others, even when you might get hurt. Nicky told me what you did when Maxine attacked him. You protected him just like you did Abigail n'me."

"Aw, Opie. Thank you for thinkin' all that, but it wasn't like that. I wasn't tryin' to protect you. I was just tryin' to make it to the next day."

"It's the same thing," Opie said, with finality. "So . . . don't argue, okay?"

"Did you think of all this stuff by yourself," Owen asked, smiling, feeling as if his heart was about to burst with happiness.

"Naw, the old girl . . ."

"You mean Abigail?"

"Yeah, the old girl told me most of it. You protected her more'n' me, just 'cause she's older than I am."

"Oh, Opie, you have got to be one of the very best sisters a guy could ever hope to have," Owen said, embracing his youngest sister.

"Thanks," Opie murmured, bowing her face as she blushed. "I think you're pretty great, too. I'm a pretty lucky gal."

"And I'm a pretty lucky guy."

"Now, that that's taken care of," Opie said, her mood changing. "I sure could use a popsicle. There are some in the freezer," she hinted. "I think I'll sit . . ." she looked around. "Right here," she finished, almost collapsing onto the coffee table, with a wince. "All that talking wears a person out."

* * *

The room was quiet, as Riley spoke to someone on the phone. "Yes, sir. I understand it is my responsibility, being closest n'all, but . . . and I'm speaking for both my brothers. None of us will attempt to identify the body. Please don't ask again, or try to make me feel guilty. It won't work.

"I've given you a couple of means of identifying her, and that is all I will do. If you want more, you will have to contact my father, in Atlanta. He may be more charitable to her than any of her sons are."

"They found her?" Nathan said, into the room's silence. "Dead?"

Riley nodded once. "The police wanted me to identify her. I told them 'no.' I told them 'no' on your behalf, as well. I hope I did the right thing."

"Of course," Nathan murmured, taking Micah's hand and scooting close. The other men . . . Owen, Sam, Lucas, Jonah, and Corey, sat quietly as the brothers worked through their feelings.

"In case we got news that she was dead," Nathan began, "I've been trying to think of a single good experience having her as my mother, that I could talk about. I've thought about it, since she first started coming after us, and . . . couldn't think of a single one. Not one!

"I can't be happy that she's most likely dead, but I refuse to mourn the woman."

"Whew!" Micah raked his fingers through his hair. "This is a little more rough for me, guys. I never knew her, so the only thing I have to base an opinion on is her attempt to murder me by burning down my grandparents' home.

"I felt anger . . . at first. Now, after learning how . . . disturbed she was, I'm not even angry. I feel . . . nothing. Her dying . . . is just like something one reads about in the newspaper. You feel bad for the family or whatever, but you don't go into mourning or anything. She brought whatever happened to her, on herself. There was no reason for any of it. This wasn't something which suddenly happened. Nathan, you're always saying how she loved drama. Well, this was a role she'd been practicing for, for her entire life."

"And she most likely went out with a bang," Jonah murmured, loud enough for only Owen to hear. Owen rolled his eyes.

"Shhhh, be nice."

* * *

"Well . . . it's over." Franklin Pruitt's words caused Elsie to look up, raising her brows in query.

"Elizabeth's body has been found, lying in a ditch. Neither Riley or Nathan would agree to identify her remains, though Riley did provide the Evanston Police with enough information for them to positively identify the body as hers."

Elsie, the one-time Pruitt Mansion downstairs maid, but now, Franklin Pruitt's "girlfriend," moved to his side and took his hand. "And, how do you feel?"

Franklin took her hand, raised it to his lips, and tenderly kissed it. "It sounds awful, but I'm glad she's dead, not because her death finishes everything up in a neat and tidy bundle, but because she had to be in misery, during these last months. Everything she knew had been taken from her . . ."

Elsie watched, as Franklin raised a hand to prevent the comment he knew was coming. "I know. I know, my dear. Nothing was taken from her. She threw everything away. Even so . . ." he shrugged. "She had nothing left, other than her anger, and it ate away at her until all that remained of her, was a husk.

"I made many, many mistakes with Elizabeth. I trusted her, without question, when I should have known better. I turned a deaf ear to her rantings and ravings, when I should have put a stop to them, early in our marriage. I took her back, after a long separation." Franklin hesitated.

"That, in retrospect, is something I'm glad I did, for if I hadn't, neither Riley or Nathan would have been born.

"And, I can't be sorry for everything that's gone on, since that airplane accident in Germany; for, as unpleasant as it all was . . ." He flicked Elsie a glance at her snort. "Well, you must admit, it was unpleasant. But, to continue, if none of that unpleasantness had happened, I would not have come to know Micah, nor would I be sitting here with you . . . my very favorite . . . girlfriend, of all time. It wasn't until after all the shooting in the foyer of the house, that I realized how you'd always been close-by, always looking out for me, more of a mother to Riley and Nathan, than she ever was. You kept this family together, in so many ways." Franklin sadly shook his head. "I've been blind, in so many ways."

"Her death, and Gustav Winton's death, doesn't mean it's over, does it?" Elsie asked, touched by Franklin's words.

Franklin heaved a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, no. I don't think we'll ever be totally rid of that woman's legacy of anger and revenge. No one knows how much money she'd stashed away, or if she'd put plans into action for others to continue her vendetta."

Elsie's brows rose, as if the possibility had never occurred to her.

"Personally," Franklin continued, "I don't believe she had either the money or the presence of mind to make such plans, but the possibility has to be taken into account."

He squeezed Elsie's hand. "I'm not having to face any of this alone, though. You're at my side, as are Riley, Nathan, and Micah. How much more could one ask for?"

* * *

"Aw, shit!" the car's driver cursed, as he looked in the rearview mirror and saw the flashing lights, of at least two police vehicles, approaching.

* * *

Hi'ya, Owen," Nicky called, as he clambered up the steps to the library. He stuck his head in the door and saw his friend sitting at one of the large tables, staring at his computer screen, wearing a puzzled expression.

Nicky paused at the door, comically sticking his head into the building, looking to his left, then right. "Anyone with a gun hiding out in the back room?" he asked. Owen grinned and shook his head. "What about another crazy woman?"

"Nope!"

"Whew!" Nicky theatrically wiped his shirt sleeve over his forehead. "Am I glad! Both of us have had enough excitement for a while."

"Oh, I don't know," Owen said, as he leaned back in his chair. "I was thinking you n'I should do something different today."

Nicky frowned. "I don't wanna learn arithmetic. I'd rather read."

"Well . . . today . . . why don't you and I run down to the park and play. It's been years and years since I've played. And, years," Owen added.

"F'real?" When Owen nodded, Nicky pushed the book away, slid off the seat and pumped his fist in the air. "Yayyy! Playing's good." He ran out of the library, anxiously waiting for Owen to close the door to the building. "I'll race you!" he shouted, as he started running, his short legs carrying him as fast as they could. Owen followed, loudly complaining about not being able to catch up.

"I win! I win!" Nicky shouted, jumping up and down, his boyish laughter filling the air. "Whoa!" he cried, as Owen grabbed him and put him on his shoulders, then began to laugh and pretended to ride a horse, as Owen ran around the park.

"What's gotten into him?" Hank asked, from where he and Art sat on a bench in front of the barbershop, watching.

"He's finally free of his father's ghost," Art said, "and he's acting like a child, for the first time in his life. Little Nicky Saunders has been the only person Owen really trusted, throughout the whole mess. Everyone stuck by Owen, but, from what I understand, Nicky was the only person Owen could talk to. As much as anyone, Nicky is responsible for Owen being able to run in the park and laugh.

"Theirs is a relationship which started when Nicky was on death's doorstep. No one expected him to pull through. Will and Peg, Nicky's parents, were emotionally exhausted, when, out of the blue, Owen showed up and asked if he could sit with Nicky and give them some time to rest."

Art's eyes became misty as he recalled Will's description of the first time Owen held Nicky, and the little boy's continuous crying faded to a whimper, then stopped, as Owen hummed an off-key tune, while the baby rested his head on Owen's shoulder, and Owen paced back and forth across the home's living room.

"Owen came back every night, until Nicky was on the road to recovery. Will, his father, told me that the moment Owen picked the little boy up, all his fussing would stop. Ever since then they've been inseparable."

Art barked a laugh. "Owen can't carry a tune in a bucket, yet Nicky swears he's the best singer he's ever heard. All because of the tunes Owen hummed, each night, I'm thinking."

Art shook his head. "Nicky celebrated Owen's return to Riverton more'n anybody, 'cept maybe Sam and Bea. Since then, he's always called Owen his brother."

Both men looked up, as Owen began piteously crying for mercy, as he and the little boy rolled about on the grass. Owen tried to crawl away, only to be brought down as Nicky leapt onto him, howling with laughter, as Owen fell onto his back and shook his arms and legs in the air, wailing and carrying on.

A moment later Owen had sprung to his feet and was chasing the little boy, who began laughing so hard, he fell to his knees. When Owen knelt nearby, Nicky jumped to his feet and wrapped him in an embrace. "Today's the first time you ever played with me, Owen!" he cried, giving the man a kiss on the cheek. "Reading and being serious n'all is good, but playing and laughing with my brother is just as good, huh?"

"You bet," Owen said, returning the boy's hug, before falling onto his back, cradling his head with his linked fingers, while the young boy lay at his side imitating him.

"Life's pretty great, isn't it?" Owen asked, rolling his head to the side to look at his young friend.

"You bet," Nicky agreed, using Owen's words. "Life's pretty great."

EPILOGUE

The sound of a dull "vwhoom!" interrupted the dinner conversation. "What the . . ." Lucas wondered, as he pushed his chair back from the table and went to the apartment windows facing the town's main street.

"It's a fire!" he called, as he ran out of the apartment, trailed by Sam, Owen, Jonah, Corey, Bailey, Riley, Nathan, and Micah.

"The store!" Sam called, momentarily frozen in shock, as he watched Hank tug a long garden hose toward the tall flames, which were quickly spreading through the dry grass, heading for the newly opened grocery store.

"Maxine's out there, in the fire, somewhere!" Millie shouted to the young men, who were trying to help Hank with the hose. "She tried t'set fire to the store, but all she managed to light was the grass!"

"Ah, shit," Sam uncharacteristically cursed, as he and the other men helped Hank, or pulled another hose across the street, and began spraying the crackling blaze, which was within feet of the brick wall of the store. There was no evidence of Maxine, amidst the black smoke and flames.

"Hank McCorkle!" Millie called, frantically motioning with an arm. "You watch out, y'hear? Don't scorch anything important!"

She turned, flabbergasted, as a child tugged at her dress. "No, I can't sell you ice cream now! We've got a fire going. Can't you see!" The little girl turned away, with her nose in the air, leaving Millie to spread her arms, and look to the sky, as if begging for patience.

"No one's doing anything to save the woman," Micah grumbled, anxiously rocking from side to side, as he and Bailey returned from carrying a couple new hoses from the nearby General Store, and handing them to a couple of able-bodied guys who looked like they might know where to hook them up.

"What can they do, other than what they're doing?" Bailey asked. "Keeping the fire from spreading to any of the town's buildings is what's important. If that Maxine woman was out there, in the middle of the fire, there's nothing anyone can do for her now."

"You guys be careful!" he shouted, as Lucas, Owen, Sam, and, Jonah began using shovels to throw dirt onto the edge of the fire. "And don't expect Riley or me to help you shovel dirt!" he finished. "That's not in my job description, Maxine, or no. Now, if it were Millie, I'd run through the fire to rescue her." He saw Riley's look of surprise.

"She's got the recipe for her ice cream committed to memory!" he responded. "We cannot let that go up in smoke! Besides, Millie's a sweetheart."

"How do they know, for sure, that Maxine is in there?" Riley asked, to no one in particular..

"I saw her." An elderly man, standing close by, lazily answered the question. "She was stompin' down the street, madder n'hell, sayin' she was gonna put an end to the new grocery store. 'With this,' she told me, holding up a big can, which smelled of gasoline." The man shook his head. "As usual, she was smoking one of her cigarettes. She was always throwing those spent cigarettes on the ground. I'm betting that's what she did, only she'd forgotten about all the gas she was spreading around." He shook his head, but didn't appear to be too distraught.

"Aren't you upset?" Micah asked.

"Sure, I'm upset, but what can I do about her stupidity? 'Course, what should anyone expect. She always did have about as much sense as a door." He paused, raising a hand to shade his face. "It looks like the guys have doused the flames near the store. I'm expectin' it won't go farther than the road over in the back of the open field. Look," he pointed. "That's where all the guys are heading . . . just in case. Now that the store's safe, we wouldn't want it to get close to those greenhouses; now would we? The guys are doin' what I'd do . . . let the fire in the field burn itself out. It'll clear out the weeds or whatever."

"But, what about the woman?" Micah asked.

"Gonna take a while for the fire to burn itself out, I 'spect. Everyone's got their hands full, squirting water, and making sure it don't spread," the man responded. "Looks t'me like that's 'bout all anyone can do, for ol' Maxine. Her maker's prob'ly sending her directly to Hell, as we speak." With those words, he turned and strode away, shaking his head in disbelief. "Stupid woman," he grumbled.

~~ The End . . . Truly ~~

Thank you for taking a few minutes to read my story. If you'd like to receive pics of the characters, as I envision them, please write: roynm@mac.com.

My other stories, appearing on this website are, Owen, Phalen, Chris, and Wesley.