by LynnLorenz
He’d be unconditionally loved and accepted with Scott and Ted, no matter if he were gay or not.
The room filled. Scott’s mother came in and sat with her cronies from church. She smiled at him and waved to the boys. They waved back. Scott spotted Billy and Peter leaning against the back wall, Bobby and Mark seated in the middle of the crowd, and Mike’s wife with some of the other wives.
The clock on the back wall hit seven thirty.
“I’m calling this meeting to order. Tonight we have some of the usual pack business, so let’s get ’er done.” Scott read from the minutes of the last meeting, they discussed old business and voted on a few things, and then he opened the floor to new business.
Scott started it off. “In the matter of Wyatt and Marie’s boys, Charles and Timothy. As you know, Ted and I have been keeping them with us. They’re doing fine, by the way. And if you remember, at the last meeting about them, no one stepped up to take the boys, so Ted and I did on a temporary basis.”
He gazed out at the crowd. Heads nodded, people smiled. Good.
“We’ve had them for almost a month, and school is starting soon. Ted and I have discussed it with the boys, and we’ve decided to keep them. Permanently.”
Ginnie and the Freemans stood. “Scott, I’d like to open the floor to discussion.”
Scott glanced at Ted, who nodded. “All right, Ginnie. Let’s hear what you have to say. But I want to remind you, the boys are sitting right here, and they’re going to hear it.” He pointed to the boys, who swiveled in their chairs to look at her.
“Right.” Ginnie frowned. “I, and some of the other pack members, don’t think you’ve given the Freemans’ offer to take in Timothy fair consideration.”
Timothy frowned. Charles glowered.
“We did. We thought about it long and hard. But splitting up the boys is a nonstarter. It should not even be on the table.” Scott turned his gaze to the Freemans. “Now, if they want to take both boys, we can discuss that.”
The Freemans stood, and John Freeman cleared his throat. “Well, you see, we’ve been talking to a lawyer. And he thinks if we bring this to the courts, we could win custody of Timothy.”
“On what grounds?” Scott gripped the podium hard.
“On the grounds of being placed in an immoral home.” John stuck out his chin.
The room fell silent.
“Immoral?” Scott lowered his voice. “My home is immoral? Can you explain that to me? And how it can be immoral for Timothy but not for Charles?” He wasn’t going to let them off easy. If they were going to use that crap, then they’d have to tell everyone how they felt, like lancing a pus-filled wound. Get all the nastiness and ignorance out in the open.
John swallowed. His wife, Rena, elbowed him. “Go on, John. Tell him.”
“You’re gay.”
Scott cocked up his eyebrow. “Oh my. Ted, did you know we were gay?”
Ted nodded. “I did. Boys, did you know Scott and I were gay?”
“Sure.” “Uh-huh.” They nodded.
“So let me get this straight, no pun intended. Before, when not a single one of you good, moral folks would step forward to take in two orphaned members of this pack, but Ted and I did, it was okay for the kids to be with us?” He directed his question to Ginnie.
“Well, see, that was different.” She twisted her fingers together.
“How?”
“Their parents had just been killed. We had to keep the boys…together, and no one would take them.”
“Sure. Makes sense. So why split them up now? Especially right here in their own town?”
John’s wife stood. “You know why.” She darted her gaze to Charles.
“Yes, I do. I know what you all told me. That Charles was a problem kid, and you didn’t want him.” Scott glanced at Charles, who ducked his head to his chest and fisted his little hands. He hated that the kid had to hear this, but Charles knew how people felt about him.
Some people gasped, but Scott went on, his gaze still on the boy. “Well, we’ve had him for all this time, and sure, it was a little rough the first week or so, but we’ve managed to work out our differences. From what I’ve seen, Charles is a great kid. A fantastic artist, by the way, and about to make his first change. I couldn’t be prouder of him, and I’m sure he’s going to be a great student in school and a fine member of this pack. Right, Charles?”
Charles nodded fiercely as he sat straighter in the chair. “I will.” Determination shone in his eyes. Scott’s heart grew again with pride for the boy.
“So it looks to me like your loss is my and Ted’s gain.”
Rena frowned. “What about Timothy?”
“What about him?”
Rena pointed to Ted. “He took him to the nail salon and got his nails painted blue! Blue! Look at them!” She turned around to face the other members of the pack. “They’re already indoctrinating him into their lifestyle.” Her voice wavered. “It’s our duty to save him from being turned gay.”
Ginnie groaned and put her hands over her face.
Scott wanted to laugh. Could everyone seriously believe that crap?
Timothy stood on his chair. “See! They’re so pretty!” He held out his hands to show them off to the crowd.
Charles whispered, “Get down, Timothy.” His brother stayed on the chair.
Ted stood. “Timothy, have you ever had your nails painted before?”
“Sure! My mom used to do it all the time for me. I like looking pretty.”
The crowd fell silent. Mouths hung open.
John snorted. “Wyatt would never let his son wear nail polish.”
“Is that true, Charles?” Ted grew serious. “Did your mom do that?”
“Yeah. But it was a secret. We weren’t supposed to tell Dad, or he’d get mad and maybe hit Timothy. Mom always took it off before Dad came home.”
The crowd had been shocked into silence.
“See, when Timothy first asked me to paint his nails, well”—Ted shrugged—“I had no idea what to do. Despite being gay, I’ve never wanted to or had my nails painted, so I said no. Timothy pitched a fit. Huge. I took him to the salon and let the professionals paint his nails. He picked out the color. I figured, what the hell, it’s only nail polish, and he’s only five.” Ted looked around at the room. “Maybe I was wrong, but I figured if Timothy had been a little girl, no one would think twice about it. And his mom had done it.
“So let me ask you, Rena. Are going to take him to the salon? Insist he take the boys’ toy on his Happy Camper meal instead of the one he really wants because you’re embarrassed about what people might say? When he tells you he loves to look pretty, what will you tell him?”
Rena’s mouth moved and then closed, her jaw set hard. “I’ll tell him no. That’s not how boys act.”
Timothy frowned and burst into tears. He jumped down from the chair and threw himself into Ted’s arms, sobbing. “I don’t want to go with her!” he wailed. “I want to stay with Charles and Ted and Sheriff!”
Charles got to his feet. “I want to stay with Ted and Scott too. I want to stay with my brother. I won’t go, and I won’t let you take Timothy away!” He stepped in front of Ted and Timothy, faced the crowd, fists raised, ready to fight.
Scott went to him and put his hand on Charles’s shoulder. “It’s okay, son.” Scott addressed the crowd again. “I think you are all operating with good intentions. But we all know where they lead.”
Ted cleared his throat. “See, your first mistake was thinking Timothy needed to be saved from us, when we’re exactly who Timothy needs to be with. People who will accept a little boy who wants to be pretty and get his nails painted and play with toys that aren’t ‘gender appropriate.’ Like Scott and me.”
Rena and John didn’t back down. “That’s why we got in touch with a lawyer. We’re going to make sure we nip this behavior in the bud. Once we get Timothy away from your…indulgence of his behavior, we’ll teach him the right way for a boy to act
.”
Timothy wailed harder and clung to Ted as if he were about to be swept away in a flood. Ted picked the child up and held him as Timothy wrapped his legs and arms around Ted, burying his face in the crook of Ted’s neck.
To Scott’s relief, Bobby Cotteau stood. “If you bring the courts into what is a pack decision, you risk exposing us all. If the CPS finds out about them, they could be taken away, and we can’t have those kids living outside the pack. We all know what would happen if Charles shifts while living with non-pack. Or when Timothy does when it’s his time. I call for a vote right now. This stays in the pack. No courts involved. Protect the pack.”
Several people echoed, “Protect the pack.” Scott heard a few voices raised louder than the others and recognized his mother, Billy, and Peter.
The Freemans looked more pissed. “It’s not right.”
“Then take them both or don’t, but you don’t get to pick and choose like you’re at the pound!” Bobby roared. “These are the lives of two children who’ve had their parents ripped from them. Now you want to rip them apart? Have you no heart?”
Ted tried to put Timothy down but couldn’t peel the child off him. “Look, here’s the bottom line. I know we’ve only had them about a month, but we care deeply about these kids, and I think they like us. Can anyone else say that?”
The crowd murmured as they spoke to each other.
Ginnie stood again. “I move we take some time and think about this situation. Take time to calm down and weigh all the arguments. Then, next week, we vote on it.”
Scott nodded. “Fair enough. But the Freemans take both boys, agreed?”
They looked at each other, and John nodded.
“All for the proposal as stated?”
“Aye,” everyone sounded off.
“Opposed?”
Silence.
Scott nodded. “So moved. We vote on it in one week.” He rapped on the podium with his knuckles, and the meeting was over.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scott and Ted drove home with the boys in silence. Timothy, still sniffling, lay curled up in the backseat. Charles glared out the window. Scott could feel his anger as the boy’s scent grew stronger. Man, he was pissed but still under control. Scott would have to tell him he’d done a great job of keeping it together tonight.
They parked, and Scott and Ted got the kids out of the car and up the stairs.
“Better get ready for bed, boys.” Ted leaned on the kitchen counter as Scott sat in his recliner.
The kids didn’t answer, just headed to their room, dragging their feet down the hall.
“Merde.” Scott wiped his hand over his face. “That—”
“Sucked.” Ted snorted.
“Do you think Timothy’s gay?”
“Maybe. I never wanted that stuff.” Ted shrugged. “I’m not sure either Timothy or Charles understand why Timothy wants his nails done or to play with girly toys.”
“I think Timothy might know he’s different. I believe, from what Charles said, his mother had a suspicion. No wonder she didn’t hold with Wyatt against us.”
“Jeez. Poor woman. Trying to protect her son against that homophobe.”
“She did her best, but standing up to Wyatt meant a beating, and we both know that truth. She loved Timothy, completely. I believe that in my heart.” Scott sighed. “What do we do now?”
“Not sure. Just keep going, day by day. Wouldn’t hurt to do some campaigning, though. Maybe ask the others to talk it up with their friends and coworkers?”
“I hate that, but you’re right. The more people on our side, the better.”
“What if the Freemans agree to take them both? If they do, the pack might side with them, and we’ll have to hand them over. You know there is still that stigma of gay men raising kids.” Ted grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and brought one to Scott. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Scott took a swig as he wrapped his hand around Ted’s thigh. “Yeah, funny how it’s okay for us to take the kids with problems, but we’re not good enough to take the ‘normal’ kids.” He snorted. “Merde.”
Ted moved closer, leaned down, and kissed Scott. “It’ll be okay.”
“I don’t want to lose those boys, Ted.”
“I know. Me either. They sort of grow on you, you know?” Ted sat on the couch across from Scott. He leaned forward, dangling the water bottle between his knees. “We need to talk to them before they go to bed. Figure out what they’re feeling about tonight. Maybe we were wrong to let them be there.” He looked up, searching Scott’s gaze.
“Hell, I don’t know. I think the pack needed to hear what the kids had to say, for sure. It scared Timothy, I know. And Charles? It royally pissed him off.”
“Better to know the truth of where you stand than to be blindsided.”
“God, I hate that this has become such a mess.” Scott held the bottle to his forehead and sighed.
Charles sneaked back down the hall to their room. He’d heard enough. He reached the bedroom door and listened. Timothy was still crying. Not his sad cry, but his scared cry. And it tore Charles’s heart in two.
He was the reason for all of this. Why Timothy was crying and why no one wanted them. As a package deal, like two for one at the store, no one wanted him so no one would get Timothy. And Charles could tell by the looks on the pack members’ faces—they would vote for the Freemans, not Scott and Ted.
When had he started wanting to stay with them? Weeks ago. He liked how Scott talked to him like he was a big kid. He liked how Ted taught him to paint and thought his art was beautiful. How he knew, deep in his heart, they would never, ever beat him or his little brother.
They cared for both of them, and maybe that was the reason he cared back.
Because he did. He cared for Scott and Ted. He wanted to call them Pops or Papa, maybe. To him, Dad was not a good thing. Dad was scary and mean.
One week.
He didn’t think he could take it, waiting to find out who would take them, because his biggest fear was the Freemans would take them both but treat him like a slave. Ordering him around. Spending all their time and money on Timothy.
Like Harry Potter, living under the stairs.
He’d be Charles, living in the attic.
It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been such a bully and a meanie like his dad, people would like him and want to take him. He imagined a pack meeting where all the families wanted both him and Timothy.
But that was just a daydream, and he knew the truth. No one had wanted him. No one but Scott and Ted, and they’d taken them to protect the pack at first.
If Timothy had been alone, he’d have been adopted by now. People would have fought over who got him.
Maybe, if he left, they would fight over Timothy for real. Timothy deserved a good home. He was a good kid, even if he was a sissy crybaby.
Charles peeked into the room. Timothy had fallen asleep.
Perfect.
He eased inside the room and went to his dresser to pack what he’d need, stuffing it all into his backpack they’d brought from his old house. At the bottom of the pack was his old flashlight. He checked to see if it still worked. It did. Great.
No way could he take a chance of getting any food from the kitchen, but he’d figure it out later. In the morning, for sure.
Charles slung the backpack over his shoulders and edged back out the door, down the hall, and stopped. He flattened against the wall, listened for voices, and took a quick look into the living room.
Scott and Ted were gone.
He dashed across the room, got to the door, opened it as quietly as he could manage, and slipped outside. After easing it closed, he tiptoed down the stairs until he reached the bottom.
For a moment, he stood there, gazing up to the almost full moon illuminating the ground around him. Something stirred deep inside him. If he didn’t go now, he’d chicken out, and how lame was that?
Charles took a deep breath and ran into t
he woods.
Ted came out of the bathroom in his sleep pants, paused, and called out to Scott, “I want to check on the kids. I’m worried about Timothy.”
“Okay!”
Ted passed the kitchen and through the living room to the back hall. At the end, the bedroom door was cracked open. He peeked in.
Timothy lay on the top bunk, asleep. Ted smiled and went to tuck him in. He hadn’t changed into his pajamas, just climbed up into bed, but Ted didn’t want to wake him just to dress him and go back to sleep. If he wasn’t awake and crying, that was good enough.
Ted bent down to check on Charles but found an empty, still-made bed.
“Charles?” Ted kept his voice down so not to wake Timothy. “Charles?” He dropped to his knees and checked under the bed. Nothing. He rose and went to the closet, opened the door and looked in. No Charles.
A tremor shook Ted like never before, and this sick feeling filled his belly.
He moved quickly but quietly out of the room and through the house. The living room and kitchen were empty, so he headed to the bathroom. He flung open the door, then closed it.
“Scott!” Ted burst into their bedroom. “I can’t find Charles.”
“What?” Scott, in the middle of getting undressed, sat on the bed.
“I can’t find him. Timothy’s asleep, but Charles is gone. I’ve searched the house.” Ted’s heart beat like a bass drum in a Mardi Gras parade.
Scott shot to his feet, pushed off his sleep pants, and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the dresser. “I’m going out to look for him. Stay here, in case he comes back or Timothy wakes up.”
Ted nodded. “Do you think he ran away?”
“Probably. Fuck!” Scott paced in a circle. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have brought him to the meeting. How could I be so stupid? I used him to make a point, and now look what I’ve done.” He shoved his feet into his sneakers and headed for the living room.
