AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story is a continuation of Revelations, which has already been posted. The reader would do well to read the earlier story before this one in order to understand the setting, the relationships, and the boys’ lives.
What a welcome relief when spring finally arrived! The delicate green of tree buds and the blooming of tulips in front of our porch did much to raise our spirits. With spring came the time of planting which was a little late due to all the snow we had had. Derek and Teddy both had birthdays and were now 13 and 10 respectively.
We worked in the fields, planting as we had before. Meanwhile, school went well. Josh and I both did school online when we were unable to go to class.
Before we knew it school was out and the warm days of summer were upon us. Josh’s mother had given him her car and had bought a new one for herself, so Josh was virtually living with us, going into Lancaster occasionally to spend time with his parents.
One summer evening I came upon Derek and Charlie sitting on the porch. Derek was writing away busily. “What’re you writing, Derek?” I asked.
“Just… something.”
“Meaning you don’t want me to ask about it?”
“Right. At least until I’m finished.”
I agreed and we sat in companionable silence with Charlie between us as Derek wrote until it was too dark for him to see the page. “Done for tonight, I guess,” he said and went into the house.
Following him and unable to contain my curiosity, I asked, “Is this fiction you’re writing?”
Sheepishly he replied, “Yes.”
“Well you don’t need to hide it,” I said. “Anytime you want to share it, I’d love to read it.” He smiled shyly and went upstairs.
For the next several evenings, Derek wrote after dinner and often either Josh or I sat with him. Sometimes he’d read over what he had written and tear it up. Other times he’d write several pages. At length he seemed to come to a point where he needed to go back and revise. It was a little awkward doing that on the porch so he went in and sat at the kitchen table.
Finally one evening he came to me a little reluctantly and asked, “Do you really want to read it?”
“Yes,” I answered, “but first I want to say something. I’ve written things from time to time. Of course most of them have been for school, but I know that when somebody else reads your work for the first time you feel like you’re taking a huge risk. You’re afraid they’ll think it’s terrible or they’ll laugh at you. I won’t do either of those things, I promise. If I like it, I’ll tell you and if I think things need to be done to it, I’ll tell you, but I’ll always support you and never put you down. Hearing suggestions from other people is the only way you can grow as a writer, so while it’s a risk having someone else read it, it’s a risk you need to take. OK?” He nodded. “Now can I read it?” Silently he handed it to me then sat anxiously beside me as I read.
It was a story about a boy, Colin, who lived alone with his grandfather and his Labrador retriever in the Maine woods. Partway through the story the grandfather died and the boy and the dog were left alone. From that point on Colin had to figure out how to survive, using the skills his grandfather had taught him. Of course he did survive, get through the winter and learn he could rely on himself. The story was well-written, if derivative, and there was much in it I could praise.
“This is really good, Derek. You show Colin’s feelings well without overdoing it. Your descriptions of the house and the woods and the winter are detailed and I can picture it all. It’s a good survival story. Can you tell me how you came to write it?”
“Well, I had read a couple of survival stories. Do you know Sign of the Beaver, by Elizabeth George Speare or Hatchet, by Gary Paulsen?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I read both of them in school.”
“So did I. We read Hatchet this spring and I thought it was a great story, so I decided to try writing a survival story and I found I really liked to write.”
“That’s great. Did you have anybody in mind when you made up the characters?”
“Well, I think Colin was me. He didn’t talk a lot and he kept his feelings inside except when he talked to his dog, but he was a good worker and,” he grinned, “he was smart.”
“Like you,” I said.
He grinned again, nodded and went on. “I guess the grandfather was mostly our Grandpa because he was the only grandfather I ever knew.”
“I think you got him just right in the story, a little gruff but kind and supportive and with a dry sense of humor. You should keep writing, Derek. You seem to have a gift for it.”
“Do you think I copied too many ideas from the books?”
“I think all writers do that until they find their own voice and their own ideas.”
“What do you mean by ‘voice’?”
“Your voice is your own style with your own vocabulary and your own way of putting things. If I gave you two paragraphs which you had never read before, one by Speare and one by Paulsen, do you think you could figure out who wrote which one?”
He thought a moment or two and then said, “Yeah, I think I could.”
“Well that’s because each of them has their own style, their own vocabulary, and their own ideas about writing. They each have their own voice.”
“I get it,” he said. “Thanks. So what should I write next?”
“I can’t tell you that, Derek. But I think it might be a good idea to try something totally different just to see what you can do.”
“OK, I’ll give it a shot. And thanks for your help.” And a very happy boy went off to bed.
Summer passed as we tended the crops, which were doing well, and went for skinny-dips in our water hole. It seemed as though all too soon we began the new school year. Teddy was now in fourth grade while Derek was in eighth, his last year in middle school. Josh and I were seniors and beginning to contact the universities which we planned to attend online.
By the end of the first few days, Derek was bubbling over with stories about his new English teacher, whose name was Garrett Browne. Mr. Browne was a beginning teacher, full of the enthusiasm and wide-eyed excitement of a young teacher in his own classroom with his own students for the first time.
A few weeks later, on Meet the Teacher Night, Josh and I went to meet him. When we walked into the room together and said we were there for a conference about Derek, Mr. Browne looked a little surprised.
“Are you two Derek’s brothers?”
“Yes,” we both answered in unison and with straight faces. “But,” I continued, “Josh and I aren’t brothers.”
Mr. Browne mulled that over with a puzzled expression. “How is that possible?”
“I have two brothers, Derek and a younger one, Teddy. Josh lives with us and is in every way except blood their brother.” Then I filled him in briefly about my parents and Grandpa, and Josh’s father being our legal guardian for the moment.
“O…K…” he responded. “Well, let me tell you what I know so far about Derek.” He went on to tell us that Derek seemed bright and eager to learn, that he occasionally asked good questions and that he should do well.
“Has he ever showed you any of his stories?” I asked.
“No, does he write?”
“He does but I don’t think he’ll show you any until he’s really comfortable with you.”
“I’ll look forward to reading them but I won’t say anything to him about it for now.”
“I’d appreciate that.” We all shook hands and Josh and I departed, pleased with the good report and somewhat intrigued by Mr. Browne.
Of course, harvest and school interfered with each other as usual, but all of us managed to finish both our school work and get in the harvest.
I remembered that when we had originally driven to New Hampshire with Grandpa, Teddy had asked if sometime we could climb one of the mountains. Our time had been so full of work that we had never done it, but now I asked the boys if they would like to take a day and climb, not one of the Presidentials to start with, but a little smaller one. They, including Josh, agreed enthusiastically, so over the Columbus Day weekend in October, we drove south to a mountain that was about 4900 feet and had a trail about two-and-a-half miles long. We took lunches, water bottles, a first-aid kit, and extra clothing and set out with Charlie right after chores and breakfast.
It was a beautiful day for our first climb. The sky was blue, the air was clear and cool, and the trees were all in their fall finery. Finding the trail head, we set out climbing through pine woods and stands of birches with Charlie in the lead, sniffing and snuffling in the underbrush. It was a steep climb and sometimes we had to help him scramble up, but we took our time and rationed our water. Nearer the top the growth became very stunted and then we broke into the clear, climbing the last hundred feet or so up a dome-like granite summit.
At the top we admired the view and then ravenously devoured our lunches, feeding Charlie scraps from our sandwiches.
Finally of course we had to head back down. When we reached the bottom we all agreed that we wanted to do it again, although we might not be able to before spring, depending on when the snows began.
Before Thanksgiving, Derek came home one day with a note from Mr. Browne. As I read it, he looked worried. “Why are you worried?” I asked. “Did something happen in school?”
“Not that I know of. I guess that’s why I’m worried.”
“I don’t think you need to be. The note says that Mr. Browne would like to meet with me and Josh, but at the diner in Lancaster. I don’t think he’d meet there if there was a problem. Maybe he’s just trying to get to know people better.”
Mr. Browne had included a phone number in the note so I called and suggested Saturday, when we might meet in the late morning. He thought that was fine so we agreed on Saturday at 11:00 for coffee.
Josh, the boys and I all drove to Lancaster where the boys were going to explore the shops and then meet us in the library while Josh and I went into the diner. Mr. Browne was already there at a table. We ordered coffee, took it over to his table, and sat down with him.
After we were settled Mr. Browne, who had by then become Mr. B in our household, said, “I guess you’re probably wondering why I asked to meet you outside of school.”
We nodded and Josh said, “I hope Derek’s not in trouble, Mr. Browne.”
“On the contrary, he’s a model student and I hope, at least outside of school, you’ll call me Garrett.” We nodded. “No, my real reason for meeting is that I wanted to ask you a very sensitive question and I hope you won’t be offended by it.”
“We don’t offend easily,” I said.
He smiled a little and took a deep breath. “Are you two by any chance ‘an item’?” he asked as he made air quotation marks.
We both laughed aloud.
Abashed, Garrett stammered, “I’m so sorry. I never should have asked.”
“No,” I said, “it’s fine. It’s just that we’ve never been called ‘an item’ before. How did you figure it out?”
“Well, aside from the fact that you live together, I had heard rumors of something called The Faggot Table in high school, and I finally found out that the two of you began it.”
“When we did,” I said, “we were the only two boys at the table, but then a much admired high school athlete and senior joined us, not because he was gay but because he didn’t like the flak we were getting. Pretty soon, because of him and his reputation, other boys began to join us. Even girls did in time. We didn’t know if any of them were questioning or gay but we saw the table as a little island where gay kids could feel safe, whether they were out or not, and other kids could learn that we gay ones weren’t terrible or freaks. Of course, Josh and I have been out for a while now and really, the atmosphere is a lot better in school these last couple of years.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Garrett sighed and continued, “Would it surprise you to know that I’m gay?”
“Of course not,” Josh said. “Gay, straight, bi, trans, nothing surprises us. We just accept people for who they are. For me, well, I knew I was gay and for a long time I thought I was the only one in town. In fact, at first, until I got on the internet, I thought I was the only one, period. So I imagine you may be pretty lonely here.”
“I am. Frankly, when I was in high school and college I had several relationships. Now I’m here and there doesn’t seem to be anybody available. Furthermore, I’m very worried about being a school teacher and gay. I’m afraid that people might think I’m a pedophile, which I’m certainly not, but I don’t know how to assure people of that. So you two are the only people in town who know about me.”
“And your secret is safe with us for as long as you want it to be,” I said.
“Thank you. Do you suppose we could continue to get together from time to time, just for friendship and to talk?”
“I’m sure we could if Derek’s OK with it, and I’m positive he would be. Would you like to come out to the farm for Sunday dinner tomorrow?”
“That would be wonderful if I wouldn’t be intruding.”
We assured him he wouldn’t be intruding at all and we agreed on 1:00 pm. I gave him directions, and when we finished our coffee Josh and I went to the library to find the boys.
Derek was all excited, showing me a book he had found called, Lost On A Mountain In Maine. “It’s all about a kid my age who got lost on Mount Katahdin and wandered around for days and days with no food. His name was Donn Fendler and he told the story himself to somebody who wrote it down. You gotta read it.”
I promised him I would so we checked out the book and drove home for a late lunch. That evening I pulled Derek aside and told him about Garrett coming for dinner the next day. “Why?” he asked.
“Well, I think he’s a little lonely up here in the boondocks and he’s also pretty young, so we sort of befriended him.”
“OK… Is he gay?”
“Derek, that’s nobody’s business but his own. You don’t ask and you certainly don’t mention it to anybody else. Especially because he’s a school teacher. If people even began thinking he might be gay that could cause him a lot of problems, so it’s not something to mention ever at school or anywhere outside of this house. If you have questions, you can ask me or Josh but never when Teddy’s within hearing. OK?”
“Got it! I’m glad he’s coming. I’ve been thinking of showing him some of my stories but I didn’t want to say anything about them in class. Do you suppose he’d read one if I gave it to him?”
“I’m sure he would. Now let’s get ready for bed.”
After Derek went up Josh and I talked about Garrett. We agreed that he seemed nice but we both wondered if he was showing off some by mentioning his former partners. Of course he gave no details but we decided to be a little bit careful around him.
Before we went to bed I told Josh about my conversation with Derek. We were absolutely certain that Derek would never say anything. We trusted him completely, and, as it turned out, our trust was well-placed.