A note from Chris

An end to a story, a moment of elation before I begin anew, another task awaits my time and energy. Thank you, to the readers who have followed along as I tried to give you something of quality, and to the man who edits my foolish errors and kindly points them out, thank you Wayne. (Wayne's own work's of fiction may be found on Nifty in the authors list under Wayne Telfer)

I never feel sorrow at ending a story, only the joy of accomplishment. A new series begins in just a few short days. Adam Conquers Earth, a love story about a very special boy and his man. It's always love between two deserving characters that inspires me to write, it always works best when I love the characters myself.

Chris James

On a clear spring morning the sun gleamed off the peaks of the Presidential Range, reflecting its light off the snow cap on Mt. Washington. The quiet solitude of New Bridge was disturbed now only by the solid influx of tourists who had wandered off the Interstate. New faces had begun to appear in town over the years, new families moving in, and new businesses opening.

Over in Littleton the calls of the young boys on the playing fields echoed between the buildings, Bradford Academy was alive and well. A solitary figure made its way slowly across the campus heading for the main building. He walked with a cane now, but Dr. Thorne was still very much a part of this place, even if he was retired.

Oh the memories he had of these past twenty-five years. The lives of his boys, their troubles and triumphs ran like a story in his mind, a wonderful story. He made his way across to the main building and paused. Soon ... very soon he hoped to see some of them again.

He entered the building and took the stairs down to the first floor offices.

"Good Afternoon, Dr. Thorne," Two boys greeted him with one voice. Malcolm and Mark Dean, twins in the sophomore class. Thorne still had a mind for their names ... they were still his boys.

"Good Afternoon, boys ... have you seen Mr. Burton?"

"In his office, sir ... we just came from there," Mark said.

Thorne smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," They replied in unison.

Bright children, so much alike. Thorne walked down to the office and went inside.

"Robert, how nice to see you," Elias said. "Come in and take a seat." They had dispensed with formality years before, probably about the time Elias noticed his first gray hairs.

"I walk a bit slower, but I still manage. Beautiful day outside and here you sit," Thorne said, lowering himself carefully into a chair and propping his cane against the desk.

Elias laughed. "And I used to tell you the same thing. It goes with the job. Being headmaster takes a lot of time ... but then I'm not telling you anything new."

"No, I suppose not. I was wondering, any response on the reunion?"

"Yes, thirty-two so far, all positive," Elias said.

"How wonderful, I know we both look forward to seeing those young men."

"I have a letter from Neil Dennison," Elias said, "He mentions you."

"Oh?" Thorne patted his pockets and frowned. "I seem to have left my reading glasses at home ... would you be so kind?"

"Yes, I'll be glad to," Elias said, picking up the letter.

"Dear Elias, it was with great warmth and emotion I read that you have taken the position of headmaster at the Bradford Academy, how very fortunate for all those boys who need the guidance of a strong and compassionate man."

"He's right you know," Thorne said. "You were my only choice as a successor. The Board agreed with me completely."

"Thank you, Robert, now hush or I'll never get through this," Elias said.

Thorne chuckled and Elias continued. "The idea of holding a reunion for the boys from that time period at the school has so much appeal; you know Jessie and I will be there.

"Our lives are filled each day with the thoughts of our time at Bradford, and the lessons we learned. I still look back fondly on the quiet moments in morning meeting we had with Dr. Thorne and the inspiration he gave us. Those few minutes of focus inspired me to use the technique with my students each morning, it brings them the same peace I felt each day.

"I realize with shame that it's been two years since we last spoke, my life has not been my own. I hope you have been receiving the news clippings I've sent along on Jessie's career, I am so very proud of him, we all are. Adam Marshall and my brother have just left my apartment after a wonderful evening together, he sends his regards and will also attend the reunion as will many of our friends. I think your idea ... "

"That's about it, Robert, things get personal after that point," Elias said.

"A fine young man, he has really followed in your footsteps, Elias, you should be proud," Robert said.

"Teaching is not for everyone as you well know, and Neil is becoming a great one."

Robert sighed. "So many faces from the past, it will be good to see them again. I know I shouldn't pass judgment, but I think those were the finest boys we graduated from this school."

Elias smiled. "I think you might be forgiven for showing a little favoritism, I agree with you. We always have brilliant minds attending with each new class, but those days were exceptional. Yes, it will be good to see them again."

"Well, I'll leave you to your work," Robert said, reaching for his cane and standing up slowly. "I believe my plants need a bit of tending and the garden crew is due at the house this afternoon. I'm teaching them about potting today. Oh, I'm afraid Dennis Marks will be asking you if he might have another plant in his room."

"More? His room looks like a greenhouse now," Elias said, and then he laughed. "He takes after you, Robert ... they all look green and healthy."

"He's fortunate; they have that southern exposure in Revere Hall. That was Jessie's room if you recall."

Elias nodded. "Each generation of boys brings new light into our lives, Robert. Our cup runneth over in the wealth of new and glorious minds to teach each year, I am thankful."

Robert smiled. "How fortunate we are. Good Day to you then ... my students await me."

"Have a good lesson, and tell Dennis just one more if he pleases, otherwise I will have to move him into the greenhouse."

Robert laughed as he made his way out the door. Elias smiled; they had made the right decision keeping Thorne on campus in his house. The man would always be a good teacher and Bradford needed every hand it could get.

He looked out the window and saw the new dorm, Adams Hall. It made him smile. No one would ever know the secret behind that grand donation, but the name should have given it away. The Marshall family had become a solid backer of the school. He could only agree with Robert, those boys had been a boon to the Academy in so many ways.

Elias picked up the letter and read the words he could not tell Robert ... not yet anyway.

"I think your idea of having a reunion to honor Dr. Thorne is a wonderful tribute to the man and the institution. We all owe him so much for the way our lives have developed and the success we have all achieved. All my classmates and the boys from the other classes around us will be there, I assure you. I have personally phoned and emailed each and every one, urging them to attend.

"The timing of that first week in June is impeccable, not just for me but for Jessie and a host of others, good thinking Elias. Jessie will just be returning from the tour in Germany and this will seem like a much needed vacation for us both. Look forward to seeing you my dear friend, all my love to you and Miguel. Most sincerely, Neil."

Dear friend ... yes, for that is what they had become after all these years. So many boys had come and gone, but these few had become friends. The gay group would be proud to see what Tom had wrought with their little organization, and now they would, if they all showed up ... he could only hope.

Nora had called the Thayer Hotel the moment Neil had told her about the reunion. It would be the beginning of tourist season but the management there remembered her fondly, they gave her sixteen rooms in a lock solid reservation for the entire first week of June.

She was happy to go along and play hostess to all those fine young men, what woman wouldn't? Those boys had become the best and brightest in every field of endeavor, a tribute to Bradford's success, and especially Dr. Thorne. It would be sweet to see the man after all these years; he had to be in his mid-seventies by now.

The house in New Bridge had been sold the year after Neil graduated; it was time to move on. There were some great memories in that house, and some bad. The joy of all those boys sitting at the table with her father still lingered in the recesses of her mind. And in that there was also a great deal of sadness.

Renny's grandfather would have loved to see them all again, but he had succumbed to cancer almost a year ago. She still held the image of Renny sitting beside him in the hospital; he gave such great comfort in those final days. The boy had become her father's greatest source of strength in those final dreadful days. That was all past now, but the memory still lingered.

There was no way she could avoid these thoughts of her father, his image hung in the dining room of the apartment. Renny had been kind; Robert Elkins had never looked finer than in that portrait. Despite the ravages of age and the cancer, Renny had given the man new life and immortality in that painting, one of his finest.

Returning to New York had been Renny's idea and Nora readily agreed. She had her three boys there and Adam as well. Yes, Adam ... Lord what a fine young man he had become, his touch had influenced so many lives. Ten years, it was hard to imagine that Renny had been with him that long, but their lives had been nothing short of astounding.

By the time Renny turned seventeen and received his high school equivalency diploma Adam already had his college degree, at least the first one. By the age of twenty-one Adam had a Master's and wrote his Doctorial thesis. He was Adam Marshall, PhD. now. Barbara was so proud, and then Adam had begun changing the world around him.

Marshall High School had opened two years ago with Neil as one of the core teachers. The boys had planned this for years; Adam had seen the project through. The Marshall Plan, as Neil jokingly referred to it, was a brilliant stroke; there was no school, just an office building for the Marshall Foundation.

The school taught in place, whatever place they found themselves. That first year sixteen students and five teachers took off across the country and around the world. English lessons in Paris, math in Tokyo. The boys were drawn from all levels of society; some would never have had the opportunity if not for Adam's work.

The Marshall Foundation was Adam's baby, something that reflected his degree in social anthropology and engineering; he'd written the degree program himself. He managed to get the great and not so great to support the idea of his school, the world was their classroom. But through it all the students were taught on the Bradford model, with kindness and respect. Poor kids from the inner city rubbed elbows with rich kids from Long Island; it was social engineering at its best.

Many wealthy donors sought a place for their children and grandchildren in the school, but Adam kept enrollment small, sixty-five this year, a dozen faculty. He managed deals with airlines and hostels across the world, great restaurants and museums allowed their facilities to be used for classes, everyone bowed to Adam's call to work together.

He was tireless in his efforts, and Barbara and Nora did what they could to help, it gave networking a whole new definition. Renny was so proud of his man, and at least he got to see him every day, unlike Neil and Jessie. From a row of studios in the Village, Renny could serve his artistic needs and those of his fellow artists in residence. He was only a short cab ride from Neil's condo.

At twenty-three Renny was still involved with his music inspires art program. There had been events in nine major cities so far, each tied in with local musicians thanks to Wolfgang. Renny still felt one of his finest works hung in the Berlin Conservatory; they really had achieved a coup in purchasing The Pigeon Man. Now his work was in demand all over the place, he had funded his school under the watchful eye of Marcel Dubois.

The loss of his grandfather had a profound effect on Renny, as well as the rest of the family. Nora had received the benefit of the company shares but left the operations to others, Renny and Neil had their own careers. Renny's sadness had translated itself into a series of murals in tribute to the man, and Robert would have been so proud, the artist garnered sales of those works in the millions that year, it kept the art project alive.

Neil had never been closer to his little brother, especially since Jessie traveled five times a year. The concerts in distant lands this past year was almost too much, it meant months away from the man he loved. But Jessie was out doing what he loved and it made homecomings all that more special. Now they could both return to Littleton and give thanks to the man who had made it all possible.

Jessie's audition and acceptance at Julliard ten years before had only been the beginning. Two years into Jessie's program of study Martin Rudnick joined the school. Jessie was glad to see his old friend back, Martin was glad to leave Chicago and return to his native home town. The two joined forces once again and Billy DeMarco could only sit back and smile, he appreciated brilliance in his students.

The Young Masters program at Julliard was a performance slot every student vied for, it gave them a chance to perform before a live audience with one of the best orchestras in the world, The Philharmonic. Martin was almost guaranteed a slot in the program; he would play a Beethoven piece with the orchestra.

But Martin frowned when he saw the entire selection, he thought it boring, it lacked the fire a temperamental pianist like himself wanted to play. And so he approached DeMarco with a proposal, he wanted to play a duet with Jessie, and he had selected just the music they ought to present.

And so, long before Jessie felt he was ready to sit at the keyboard in front of a large audience, Martin had DeMarco's approval to perform the D major Sonata for piano by Anton Rubinstein, and that needed four hands. Jessie was stunned at the proposal, but he knew Martin had done it to make sure he was in the program. He had to accept, the music represented passion itself.

Wolfgang was a proud uncle as he sat by Renny and the other Dennison's in the third row that evening. Martin was the great unknown, but a rising star at the school; he knew how well Jessie played. The program went through the violin performance of Marsha Denaro, an astounding young lady, to Wilson Bennett's cello solo, and then it was time for the piano section.

The orchestra conductor motioned to the wings of the stage and Martin took his place at the keyboard, one of two on the platform. Within a minute Wolfgang knew the boy was the most astounding young talent he had heard in twenty years, his performance was technically perfect. But there was something missing, something he had heard only from Jessie's hands ... the passion of love for the music he played.

Martin finished with a flourish and the audience rose to their feet in appreciation. Martin took a bow and then returned to the keyboard. The conductor once again motioned to the wings and Jessie took to the stage. Martin smiled and gave Jessie a nod, the moment was upon them.

The performance was nothing short of brilliant, it was as if they played one instrument. The Russian composers had a way of grasping the listener, tonight Wolfgang felt the clutch as these two boys reached out with their music, he almost wept. The audience held its collective breath at the technical difficulty of the piece, but not a single mistake was heard, it was astounding.

And even the orchestra rose to its feet as the final notes brought the audience's praise in a thunderous ovation. Jessie and Martin took their bows, and then hugged one another. There was no doubt in Wolfgang's mind who would win the competition; the boys would share that prize.

Every hard earned moment of knowledge Jessie gained after that was colored by that performance, he was forever grateful to Martin for the chance. The following year Martin won first place in the solo competition, Jessie came in second. It was far from a disappointment to see his friend win, he was just happy to be there.

Julliard students were world renowned, and that was never more apparent than in the offers each student received to come and play for various events, most resisted the temptation, they had no time. The world of a musician at that level was filled with hours of solitary practice; Jessie had the apartment and the Bosendorfer for his use.

From beyond the closed doors of the music room, Nora listened to the piano her mother had so wonderfully chosen produce an amazing tone. Jessie was in there writing his symphony. The long and laborious process of composing had swept the boy into a frenzy of activity for months, DeMarco wanted it performed, and soon.

Now Jessie understood what he was writing and how to put it all together on the page. He had it all figured out, but it lacked something grand. Renny often sat in the corner most evenings, sketch pad in hand. Jessie was a favorite subject these days, the passion of his music Renny could understand. So when he heard a frustrated discord emanate from Jessie's fingers he looked up.

Jessie sighed. "It's all finished, I just don't feel it."

"You've been working on that thing forever, maybe you're too close to it," Renny said.

Jessie smiled now. "I have to be, Neil inspired it. No, it's just missing ... something."

"I get that, nice painting, wrong frame."

"Exactly. I keep thinking about performing it, the orchestra part is like a pair of hands that gently holds the piano." He led up his hands and cupped them, looking down. "That's how Neil made me feel, I was his to hold."

"That's sweet, the whole thing paints a beautiful picture in my head," Renny said.

Jessie nodded. "Yeah ... me too. What do you see?"

Renny sighed and closed his eyes. "I see ... " He spread his arms and made broad slashes with his hands. "I see wide bands of blue and white stretching across the sky, like the clouds over the Mediterranean Sea, the dark forests in Germany, the lush green hills of Ireland ... " And Renny stopped, opening his eyes with a smile. "It inspires me to see the beauty of the world like I've done so many times. The oceans, the skies, the forests ... every part of the planet resonates in that music."

Renny then laughed. "Sorry, that isn't a very succinct answer, is it? I just see images when I hear music, its how my brain works."

"No ... that's a wonderful thought. I'm missing the colors, the images," Jessie said. "I need to put them in there, I want the audience to hear and see what I'm composing ... you've given me a brilliant idea."

"I have ... what do I get out of it?" Renny laughed.

Jessie gave him an evil grin. "Work, my man ... lots of hard work."

DeMarco was intrigued; combining performance with media seemed like a good idea.

"Your little symphony is forty-two minutes long, not enough time to paint anything live on stage, is it?" He wondered aloud.

"No sir, it's not ... and the smell of the paint would be a real problem, I wouldn't suggest that indoors. Renny and I want to select images from the public domain and present them through various media. I would like to consult with the staff at the Center first. Dr. Von Scholtz knows some specialists in that field as well."

"I know you call him Wolfgang, or Wolfey for that matter, don't change that on my account, you've been friends a long time by now," DeMarco said. "Yes, he would need to become involved. You have half the program; will it affect the other performances?"

"No sir, that is not my intention ... I would just ask to go last," Jessie said.

"Fine, you go on after intermission. So how long do you suppose it will take to put this all together?"

"We have four weeks, I imagine every bit of that ... we've already begun," Jessie said.

DeMarco smiled. "Wolfey said you would rock my world even before you started at the school, he was right. Rehearsals for your music starts next week, let's see what you come up with."

"Yes, sir ... Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Every time one of you students does something so incredibly fine it reflects well upon the school as a whole. Go do something fine, Jessie. An event like this will make your place in the music world, I hope you know that. And you may call me Billy, everyone else does behind my back; it's about time we were up front with one another."

Jessie grinned. "Then thank you, Billy."

Wolfgang was instrumental in arranging things in the media sense. It would take huge screens of various shapes and projectors of great power, lots of projectors. The symphony photographers got wind of the plans and volunteered their time and experience, they would make the final digital prints. The lighting crew at the Center was intrigued; this would be an unusual challenge, something to change their usual boring jobs.

The images came from everywhere. Books, internet, magazines, hundreds grew into thousands almost overnight. Renny and several friends spent hours choosing the photos, working to assure quality and color. It would be a media package like no one had seen since the sixties.

The week before the scheduled rehearsal, Wolfgang brought in his expert, a German media artist who had extensive computer programs at his fingertips. The images had all been digitized by that point; all he needed to do was program the sequences. There were four thousand images to look at, it took hours. The whole time Renny and Jessie sat with him and talked about their vision of how the art needed to look and he did it right before their eyes.

The final copy of the presentation was stored for playback on sixteen projectors, it was a massive undertaking. The morning of the rehearsal the media company moved onto the stage and began to set up screens. Jessie stood back amazed at the major amount of work this entailed ... and the cost. Wolfgang stood beside him and smiled.

"This is like a Broadway show in many aspects. I imagine you'll be a friend to the stagehands union for years after this," He said.

"I had no idea, this has to be expensive ... all these people, the equipment ... "

"Now shush, that's my concern, we are well within budget," Wolfgang said.

"What budget? I didn't know there was one," Jessie said.

"My dear Jessie, you think this is just another student performance? There will be more media coverage than you can imagine, it will be the musical event of the year, I assure you. The Julliard, the Center ... everyone involved will receive praise and attention; this is more than worth the effort. You have brought focus on the tired old music world, that's worth millions in subscriptions alone. So let me worry about paying for it, I just wish you were going to receive something for all your work."

"This isn't about money Wolfey, it's about the music," Jessie said.

"And so it is ... how grand it will be, don't you think?"

The screens were stretched over the usual orchestra shell, amorphous shapes that were intriguing and yet did nothing to block the shell's acoustic properties. Some of the projectors were hung overhead, others on the floor under the orchestra risers and still others projected from the rear. The orchestra would sit in a bubble of light as the media swirled on the screens around them. They would soon find out if this distracted the musicians from their work.

Otto sat back with his computer control panel and ran through the images. Renny had arrived with Neil and Nora; they all sat in the seats and watched the show. Otto Morgenstern had only heard the music from a recording Jessie had made. The consultations had set the timing and flow of the images, and now Jessie saw for the first time what they had produced.

Forty-two minutes of music, three thousand eight hundred and sixteen images would synchronize with the music. Otto focused on his computer as the images moved, some of them flowing across the stage from one screen to another. He understood the dynamics of the program; he even liked the music, now it would all come together.

The images were stunning even without the music. A broad view of the world, the best of Earth as Renny had said just the other day. It was all there in forty-two minutes. The naturalists would approve, Jessie called it A Symphony for Mankind, an Ode to Planet Earth.

The orchestra arrived at four, glancing around at the screens as they took their accustomed seats. Jessie had tested the piano beforehand and he stood talking to several of the musicians before the conductor arrived. Martin came onstage and looked around as well.

"I figured you'd find a way to upstage me," He laughed. "Awesome."

"I should have talked you into playing this for me," Jessie said.

"Nervous? Well don't be, you know every nuance by heart," Martin said. "For once I get to watch my friend, that's pretty rare isn't it? We're usually on stage together."

"You will be in spirit, thanks for all your support," Jessie said.

"If I was gay I'd kiss you," Martin said. "Aw hell, let them talk." And with that he gave Jessie a proper smooch on the lips. "Have fun." And Martin went to find himself a seat.

Trevor Leman was conducting all of the student performances this year; he admired Jessie's work tremendously. He too did the look around when he came on stage and walked up to Jessie.

"I see the webs, where are the spiders?" He joked.

"In my head," Jessie said with a smile. "You'll be facing the media show, hope it isn't too distracting."

"Not a bit, I have a complicated score to address and fifty-six musicians who think they know it all, I'll be too busy," Trevor laughed. "So shall we?"

Jessie sounded out an A to alert the oboe player who repeated the note, then the first violin picked up the tone, and the sound spread throughout the orchestra until they were all in tune.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the orchestra," Trevor began, as he always did. "Today we have a treat ... not for you, but for the audience." There were chuckles amidst the orchestra.

"The media presentation will surround us, but we must ignore it at all costs. A note to the percussion section, there is no nudity in the images, sorry." That garnished outright laughter and boos from the percussionists.

Trevor maintained strict discipline; everyone respected his abilities and his absolute control. But he was always good humored; it made his people relax when he joked with them. Jessie knew most of the musicians had fought to take their seats in this prestigious orchestra, Trevor made it all worthwhile.

The lights dimmed a bit for the start and Trevor glanced around at his people, their faces reflecting the pale wash from their stand lights. They had rehearsed like this, for normally the orchestra was strongly lit from above. A soft blue wash lit the screens; they were ready to synchronize at the touch of Otto's finger.

"So, we face another un-student like composer on the way up; let's make him look good today, shall we?" He said.

With that Trevor tapped his baton on the music stand and the violin bows went up to their starting position. He nodded at Jessie and the baton went up ... they began.

The opening strings swept along with the ocean views, the background a constant repetition of those four notes and three chords where the music had all begun. And then the piece took on a grander tone, the section Jessie had finalized a three months ago, one that inspired the larger piece of work.

Wolfgang sat in the seats halfway up the center aisle and felt the music wash over him. No matter that this was a piece fraught with danger for one so young, it had been his risk to take and he had triumphed. The visuals would sweep the audience away; it was a magnificent blending of art and music. He was content; the boy had become everything he expected and more.

Renny watched with awe, feeling the emotions of all that hard work and the music combine to lift his spirits through the roof. It soared just as he had imagined, he loved Jessie's music ... and the man behind it. That thought made him smile, yes, he'd had a crush on Jessie from the moment they first met.

But on Sunday afternoon he would sit out here with Adam by his side, they would share this joy together. For just as life had given him Jessie and this wonderful music, Adam had consumed his life with a passion. He was so lucky, so very lucky to be here.

The orchestra played the three movements with delight, pausing only as the piano took over and then plunging back in to emphasize their part of the music. It was all so incredibly raw and exciting, the best thing most of them had encountered in years. And then they were done and the final notes sounded as the screens froze on that most famous of photos ... The Earth, The Big Blue Marble in space.

Trevor walked over and shook Jessie's hand, on Sunday Jessie would walk over to him as etiquette dictated. "Wonderful, simply wonderful," Trevor said.

"Thank you," Jessie replied.

The New York Times spoke of 'hidden treasures' at the Julliard School, and went on to laud the school for taking such chances. The review in the Post was Jessie's favorite:

"Time and again we are given tired and worn out classics to examine; the performance I observed last evening at the Lincoln Center was nothing less than a triumph of the human spirit. The presentation of A Symphony for Mankind, an Ode to Planet Earth, a one of a kind student media event at the Lincoln Center once again proves that New York is blessed by the presence of its world renowned music school, The Julliard.

"Last evening's student musical performance at the Center was awash in praise for Mr. Jessie Reardon, a third year music student at The Julliard. His symphony encompassed the entire second act of what was an evening of delightful music, and stood the audience on its ear. For not only did the music soar, the accompanying visual images were astoundingly clear and bright, lending strength and vitality to the musical score.

"The Philharmonic orchestra, under the direction of Trevor Leman, performed flawlessly, as did Mr. Reardon on his piano accompaniment; the music had never been performed before. And it was all supposed to be just a student musical event, it was anything but. With the addition of stunning visual images that flowed across dozens of screens behind and above the musicians the result was incredibly exciting.

"The images are credited to Mr. Renaldo Dennison, an artist of some renown who chose the photographs for their poignancy and ability to express the music. We have just learned that this artist is only sixteen years of age, a wonderful tribute to youthful ability in the field of art. Requests to the Center for further information on any further performances of this music media event have been delayed; they seem to be considering just what to do with their new hit."

Renny had been stunned when he opened his program on Sunday afternoon and saw his name. Jessie had insisted Renny be given the credit, he'd done the lion's share of the work. And then as the performance began Renny looked at what he had created with new eyes, and a whole lot of pride.

As the performance ended Nora rushed him backstage as the first act musicians took their bows. He was virtually dragged into the wings as Jessie walked on stage for his bow and the accolade he so richly deserved. Nora thrust a bundle of roses in Renny's hands and simply said. "Go out there and give these to Jessie from all of us."

Renny was nervous, he wasn't prepared. But that was Jessie out there, he had to follow through. And so he took the forty or so steps out across the stage and Jessie turned to smile at him.

"Thank you, Renny ... the credit is yours as well," Jessie said. He accepted the flowers and took Renny's hand, turning them both back towards the audience. "Now bow when I do," Jessie said, and they did just that. It was about this point that the audience realized just who this boy was and they cheered, causing Renny to blush and the smiling photographers took their photos.

It was hard to believe but there they were in the newspaper, Jessie holding the bunch of flowers and Renny's hand the very moment after their bow. He had looked up at Jessie that very second, you could almost see the adoration in his eyes; you could definitely see that radiant smile.

The Center wanted six more performances, assuring DeMarco that they would each sell out after all the publicity. Billy was stunned, this had never happened before, but how could he refuse. The orchestra was just happy to perform something popular. Jessie thought it was all too much.

"OK, it was good, great even, but it isn't all that," Jessie groaned. "Come on Billy, I have other things to learn."

"When the surf is up, you ride the waves," Billy said.

"What?" Jessie laughed. "You think I have to do this?"

"No, you need to do this ... there's a great deal of money involved. Even with moderate ticket prices you'll gross a good deal, maybe even a hundred thousand. The box office will be close to a million dollars."

"Oh My God, that is a lot of money."

"Well after taxes, say half that ... it will be a first for a student work."

"Will they tax it if I donate it to charity, or say a non-profit?"

"No, then the full amount will ... you have something in mind?"

"Yes, and I'll need about sixteen seats for the final performance, can I get a check then as well?"

Billy smiled. "For you ... anything seems possible."

This time the Times raved and the Post all but said I told you so. Billy arranged for Martin to comprise the first act at Jessie's urging, and the boy blew the audience away with his performances. But everyone was there to see Jessie and his musical event, they were not disappointed.

Tim Braden had loaded a dozen of his kids in a van with Mickey and they appeared that afternoon at the Center, he had read about Jessie in the Post, he'd never thought he would get to see the performance. But when he presented his name at the box office they were lead down front to the very first row of seats.

The kids from the hostel garnered some strange looks; well ... some of the kids looked strange too. But they settled in their seats and were surprised when Neil came and sat down with them. He talked with the kids, many of them not much younger than himself and told them about the performance. Renny, Adam and Nora arrived as well, and there were greetings for the woman that had brought some of them all the way up to New Hampshire.

Martin did an incredibly fine job in the first act, and then they saw Jessie walk out on the stage. His performance and the pictures were the most amazing thing any of them had even seen, but then forty-two minutes later it ended. Trevor and the orchestra took their bow and then Jessie returned to the stage for his.

And after the applause died out Tim stood up and was ready to take his charges back to the hostel, but Neil took his arm.

"Jessie will be out in a moment, he'd like to thank you for coming."

"OK, we'll wait," Tim said.

When he did appear Jessie led them all backstage and into a large open room behind the band shell. There were several well dressed people standing around talking but they smiled as the kids entered.

"Tim, this is Wolfgang Von Schultz, the assistant director of the Philharmonic, and this is Trevor Leman, the conductor you saw this evening. I wanted you all here to make a very special presentation, Wolfgang?"

Wolfgang slid an envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Jessie.

Jessie smiled. "Tim, I hold you responsible for bringing Renny into my life and the lives of all of who know and love him. For that alone you could never be rewarded enough. But when I was told that these performances would be paid I knew where I wanted my money to go." And with that he handed over the check.

"Thank you, Jessie, thank you all."

"Well open it," Renny said, causing smiles around the room.

Tim laughed. "Same old Renny." And then he opened the envelope and gasped. The check was for one hundred and eighty thousand dollars, the orchestra and center had added to the pile once they heard where it was going.

Feeling totally numb, Tim handed the check to Mickey and threw his arms around Jessie. He had tears of gratitude in his eyes. "You know what this means? New furnishings, a real school ... bless all of you," Tim said. There was a lot of love shared in that room.

For Jessie his triumph rolled past, his degree assured, and then there was another graduation to attend, two in fact. Neil and Jessie went on to graduate school. Red and Alan hadgraduated Bradford the very next year, disappointed that Neil and Jessie couldn't come.

Mike graduated that year as well and settled down with Pat like he always had, business was booming. And then it was Steve, Tyrone and Brent's turn to receive their passport to the world. Following that Adam made his valedictory speech and Neil and Jessie were there, with a handsome sixteen year old Renny by their sides.

Adam was the last graduate known as a member of the original gay group, an event that made Tom smile. Those boys had set the stage, thrown open the closet door and brought unity to the school, they would be missed. Even Tim had finally made contributions to the cause; it was a bitter sweet ending to an era.

The years rolled by and finally Thorne said enough, he wanted Elias to take charge. The changing of the guard went almost unnoticed, except in a letter Elias sent Neil. For by then he was aware of the newly minted Marshall Plan and whole heartedly supported the effort. But then Thorne fell on one of his famous walk arounds, he was in the hospital for a week. And that set Elias to thinking.

He prepared the mailing list in secret at home, knowing that Thorne still occasionally snooped around the office after hours. The Board had given Thorne and his wife the house at retirement; he was still a much needed asset to the community of Friends. So the letters went out telling each former student about the reunion and asking them to please quietly prepare a tribute for Dr. Thorne.

Ten years, a lot of students had come and gone at Bradford in that amount of time, faces and names never to be forgotten. Elias awoke on the morning of June third with a smile and looked up into Miguel's adoring face.

"It's today isn't it, babe?" Miguel asked.

"Today it starts, are you coming?" Elias asked.

"No, dear ... these are your boys. Bring some of them home for dinner if you want."

"They're not boys any more," Elias said.

Miguel smiled. "They always will be in your heart."

Adam, Jessie and Neil flew into Franconia airport and picked up their rental car, Renny tagged along, unsure what he would be facing. But he wanted to see Red and Alan; they had been apart for years. God, it seemed like another life, it had been so long ago when he had met all those guys, but Renny was a man himself now, age didn't matter.

Neil drove the fifteen miles to the Thayer Hotel and checked in. Nora would be along tomorrow. He wondered how the guys had changed, if at all. They were about to board the elevator when he saw this red-headed man dash into the lobby with a slender blonde guy in tow.

"Hold the doors," Neil said. "Red alert."

They stepped off the elevator and waited for Red to spot them. Steve saw them first,

"Neil ... Jessie," Steve yelled, and he nearly tripped over Red getting to them. The hugs and greetings filled the lobby, while Adam stood back smiling with Renny by his side.

"I haven't forgotten you, Adam," Steve said, untangling himself from a Jessie hug only to switch to Adam. "Wow ... Renny? God you've grown like a weed."

"Hello, Steve." The hugging could have taken up all morning, but they all wanted to meet the two o'clock deadline at the campus. Now it was six of them on the elevator going up.

"So you both still in school at Emerson?" Neil asked.

"I am at least," Steve said. "Now Red, that's another story."

"Quiet, Steve."

"Now, come on, its good news, they ought to know," Steve said. "Red finished his broadcasting program and Channel 4 in Boston picked him up."

"WBZ, and it's time for the five o'clock news," Red said in his announcer's voice. "That's five in the morning guys; I'm low man on the totem pole."

"Hell, that's a foot in the door, Red ... congratulations," Neil said.

"That explains the haircut," Adam said.

"Yup, don't want no hippies on television," Red laughed. "Alan will be along, he and Dillon are driving up from DC."

"They're living together? What about schools?" Jessie asked.

"Dillon's at Georgetown, guess he'll follow in daddy's footsteps, I hate politicians but I'd vote for him. Alan is at George Washington, in performing arts no less."

"Is that where they teach you how to make gay porn?" Jessie asked, and they all laughed.

"God, this is going to be so much fun," Neil said.

They all went to their rooms and showered. Each dressed in a suit and tie, the only thing they shared in common was the little rainbow flag pin on their lapels. They had agreed to meet in the lobby at one, but Neil and Jessie arrived first. Neil was the first to spot Alan, he had hardly changed at all, but Dillon had. The boy had been so attractive at Bradford, now he was a total knockout.

"Jeez ... Dillon?" Neil said. Dillon hugged him while Alan did the favors for Jessie, and then they switched.

"Lord, you look great," Jessie said. "And Dillon, wow."

"Yeah, that's my boy," Alan replied.

The others arrived as Alan checked in, each secretly amazed at how well Dillon had grown in height and beauty. So of course Renny had to say what they were all thinking.

"Dillon, you modeling now or something?" Renny said.

"No," Dillon laughed, "You think I should?"

"Oh baby, I'd pay to see you in a bathing suit."

"We have to clean up and get dressed," Alan said, "See you in half an hour?"

"Meet you in the bar," Neil said.

"Yeah, we can do that now, can't we?" Renny said. "No champagne for Dillon as I recall."

"Thanks for reminding me," Dillon said, swatting Renny's ass.

After a few beers they were all ready to go, and they took both cars. The drive up to the gates gave them a glimpse of Littleton, a town much changed, but still a quiet little place. Neil drove through the gates with a smile, this at least was the same ... and yet not.

They immediately saw the new building and Adam smiled. No one knew, and he wasn't about to tell them. They pulled up in front of Thorne's residence, and saw the gardens just as they remembered, a display of color and beauty, much like the man himself.

The front door opened and Elias stepped out, looking older and wiser if that was humanly possible. They got out of their cars and there were hugs before the door once again opened and Thorne and his wife stepped out. Neil was shocked at the changes age had wrought, but the eyes still held that twinkle, tinged with a bit of mischief.

"Boys ... boys, it's so good to see you once again," Thorne said, still leaning on his cane for support.

"Hello, Dr. Thorne," Neil said, and they all gave the man his due.

"Come in, come in," Thorne said.

They pulled chairs from the dining room table to seat everyone, and Thorne sat in his favorite chair.

"So let me see. Neil and Jessie, Wayne and Steve, Alan and Dillon, and of course Adam, but who is this young man?"

"I'm Renaldo," Dr. Thorne, "Neil's brother."

"Oh yes, the artist, I've read all about you ... you have a fine career. We missed seeing you here."

"I was too young to attend, sir, and then we moved to New York," Renny said, hoping to avoid any lengthy explanations.

"Our loss, I'm sure. So, Elias says each of you is making great progress in life, how wonderful," Thorne said.

"The campus looks wonderful as well," Neil said.

"We have a fine bunch of boys to do the gardening; I'll miss them this summer. But then you haven't seen the new buildings, Elias must show them to you," Thorne said.

"We saw one on the way in," Neil said, wondering if he was going to be the only one to speak.

"Yes ... yes, Adams Hall, our new dorm. Nearly three hundred boys here now, quite a crowd. They'd be pleased to meet you ... no, but they're off for the summer, how sad."

Thorne looked frail ... tired. Neil imagined the others were in shock at his condition. "I'm sure you had an excellent group of students this past semester," Neil said.

"Yes, fine boys ... but not like I remember exactly every detail any more, Elias runs the school. You boys were the best, the brightest I believe we've ever seen, and look how you've grown."

"Thank you, sir ... we've brought you a gift, Dr. Thorne ... it's very old," Neil said.

"Is it older than me?" Thorne asked with a chuckle.

"I believe it qualifies ... .Jessie?"

Jessie handed over the box in which the book resided and Neil placed it in Thorne's hands. "I don't have my reading glasses; can you tell me what it is?"

Neil opened the box and brought out the old leather bound book, it showed its age through the clear protective wrapping.

"Dr. Thorne, for the lessons you taught us, for the times you shared your wisdom and that of the Society of Friends, we wanted you to have this book. This is the autobiography of George Fox, as written by Mr. Rufus Jones in England and published in nineteen and eight, it's a first edition and very rare."

Elias had perked up at the mention of the book. "Goodness," He said.

"I thought the dedication most appropriate," Neil said, and he recited from memory.

"To the sweet and shining memory of the little lad whose beautiful life was a visible revelation to me of truth, which this autobiography teaches, that the divine and the human are not far sundered."

Thorne sat stunned for a moment. "I have heard that before, an age of time past in my youth." He sighed. "I am grateful that you give me something that shares such values, I shall read it in due time. You bring me such joy, and yet I have nothing to give in return."

"Dr. Thorne you have given us more then you will ever know," Jessie said.

"You inspired us, sir," Dillon said.

"There are hundreds of successful former students, Dr. Thorne. Your guidance made that all possible, none of us here will ever forget your kindness," Neil said.

Thorne nodded, his eyes closing as a smile crept to his lips. "I remember you spoke well at your graduation, Adam did as well. You both said the same things as I recall ... that what you will always remember is our kindness ... yes, those were the words ... .kindness."

He opened his eyes and they looked tired now. "I'm afraid my medicine is making me dreary company, I should rest a while."

Elias helped Thorne to his feet and he touched each man on the way out. "I look forward to seeing all of you tomorrow at the dinner ... maybe we should serve pizza," Thorne laughed at his own joke and followed Elias out of the room.

They each sat in silence after the man left, a quiet that they had learned here just like every other lesson. Elias returned and asked them to step outside. They stood looking out across the campus, the walkways and the mown grass all seemed in order.

"He is fragile, I'm afraid, even his wife notices the change these past six months," Elias said.

"Does he have a medical condition?" Alan asked.

"Besides age ... no, not really. His circulation fails like all elderly men, he walks less and less. He sits in a chair and watches the students tend his garden. His life is fading, just as your's is beginning, it is the way of things."

"Will he be all right, is our coming here too much of a strain on him?" Neil asked.

"No, he wouldn't have it any other way ... he needs to see you and the others when they arrive tomorrow," Elias said.

"We were hoping for a photograph with him, you included," Alan said.

"That would make a sweet memory, he'd like that. I'm sorry, his day is worn out, he needs the rest. What can I do for you boys ... men, sorry?"

Neil smiled. "Nothing changes does it? We'll always be your boys as well. So headmaster, show us the campus you command."

"That I can do."

The photograph is one of the last memories Neil had of Dr. Thorne. The man stood tall in their midst, a smile on his face, the breeze ruffling his hair. Alan yelled cheese right before the shutter tripped, eighty-seven men smiled ... and they became immortal.

Renny was in that picture, Thorne insisted. Alan took several shots of the man alone, and Renny worked with one of them, producing a portrait in oils. Five months after the reunion, Elias received the painting, and he hung it in the office for all to see ... for by then his friend Robert was gone.

He had left this world in his sleep, age finally taking its toll. For a man who valued silence as much as he did laughter, it was fitting that at least one of them had taken him. Elias would miss their quiet conversation, and the moments of silence that fell between them. It was then they could hear the calls of the boys out on the playing fields, the boyish intensity, the very breath of life.

Now he had that portrait, and they could still embrace the silence together while listening to the boys yelling in play. It made Elias smile, for Robert had breathed life into the school with tolerance and kindness. And somewhere ... somewhere on this campus there would be another two boys who would meet, fall in love and go on with life as had so many before them.

Those amazing boys of Bradford Academy were all grown and out conquering the world, one kind deed at a time. And there in tiny New Bridge, Pat read his copy of the New York Times and occasionally he ran across one of their names. Mike used to enjoy having Pat read him the articles about Jessie's concert performances, or the Marshall Foundation's work. It was sometimes hard to remember just how close they had all been.

"They are just fine guys, don't you think?" Mike asked.

"Like you aren't?"

"No, Pat ... I don't mean it like that. I mean they all turned out so well, so successful."

"I'm successful," Pat said.

"Meaning?"

"I have you, and I wouldn't trade you for all the money in their bank accounts, not one dime."

"I just miss seeing them, knowing what's going on in their lives."

Pat smiled. "Then come spring we'll go down to the city and look them up."

"I'd like that ... I think it's going to snow again tonight," Mike said.

"You and that nose of yours, how do you know?"

"I grew up here; I just know ... we better bring in some more firewood."

"Mike, the power isn't going off for a little snow."

"It might, and besides I want a roaring fire tonight."

"Roaring, huh?"

"Yup."

"And why's that?"

"I want us to make passionate love on the rug, just like we used to do when we first fell in love ... OK?

"Yup."

Mike laughed. "Is that all you have to say?"

"OK, how's about I love you ... and where are my boots?"

If you wish to make a stand against homophobia and hate, join with me, and thousands of gay and straight students across the country this Friday, April 17th, 2009, in recognizing a National Day of Silence. www.glsen.org/day-of-silence for more information on this most important event,

Thank you.

Chris James



Back to Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Index

Chris James Home Page

"Seasons for the Boy" Copyright © 13 April 2009 Chris James. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer