Gordy Comes Home - 10. Chapter 10

It was Christmas, cold, damp and dreary. Wylie opened his eyes and was instantly awake. John was sleeping facing him, both hands tucked under his cheek. A leg draped across Wylie’s. Wylie smiled as he noticed a little drool hanging at the corner of John’s mouth.

He drew his eyes away from John and mentally focused. Something had awakened him. He listened. No disturbing noises? The room was still dark. He knew it was morning, he was well rested, refreshed even. He was warm and close to John. Still, something wasn’t right. Something was different. What? He racked his brain.

As soon as the thought flashed, he smiled.

He had decided to confront John. But, that wasn’t happening until they returned to campus. Still, his resolution enveloped him with a feeling of great calm and provided him a sense of direction. He understood that he was excited. He had awakened because he was ready, right here, right now. It took tremendous self-control not to awaken his lover with a passionate kiss.

His brain teased him with the vision of John’s initial shock.

It would wait! He was confident that everything would work out.

He knew John loved him and together they would make it work. Wylie‘s heart swelled with happiness he had never known.

He slowly, carefully extricated himself from John. He thought about last night. As he replayed their bedroom activities his already piss hardon went from erect to demanding. He considered getting back into bed and awakening his lover with a good morning blow-job. That would be better than a kiss. That thought almost broke his self-control. He would…but not today.

He moved into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light. Re-emerging fifteen minutes later, dressed, he headed for the kitchen.

The smells that had greeted him in the hall intensified as he entered the kitchen. There, three ovens were all roasting fowl and beast. Conchatta must have started cooking sometime earlier.

He wondered why he was the only one awake. Glancing at the clock he was surprised to see it was five-thirty.

He made coffee.

Sitting at the table his mind wandered over the time since his grandmother’s passing. He used it only as a point of reference and considered how his life had changed since then.

He remembered:

His transition from high school student to college freshman had been a little more involved than most. He had sold his grandmothers house and loaded what he owned into the back of his decrepit pickup truck.

He had loved that truck. He chuckled at the memory of using a coke bottle as a fuel tank in order to get home after a high school dance. His date had been impressed with his ingenuity and the next date had seen her more receptive to his advances. She called him “McGiver”, even when they had sex. They had a lot of sex. He thought about how the sex with her was different than sex with John. He wondered if he maybe was holding something back when he had fucked her? With John, he held nothing back. The few times when they had engaged in round two, he was almost surprised that he had been able, no, eager to respond. Each time it seemed that he wanted to give his all, simply because it was John.

He found himself drifting through the myriad questions of how and why this all came about. Finally, he realized he had only some of the answers. John could give him some, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He was content in his love for John. Soon, very soon he would tell him.

His reverie was interrupted by, “Good morning sunshine”.

He glanced up at the sound and found John, smiling warmly. He took in that smile as if it were a shot of caffeine.

John lifted his hand as if to block his vision of Wylie. “How the hell can any man be that happy, before coffee?”

John moved to the counter and poured two cups. Pulling a small cream dispenser from the restaurant sized refrigerator, he joined Wylie at the table. This simple act of fetching coffee for his “love“ was elevated to something almost profound. “Merry Christmas, Wylie.”

“Merry Christmas, John.” Wylie reached for the cup and wrapped his hand around John’s in the process.

The contact held.

John’s eyes fixed on their hands. Wylie’s eyes were trying to read the many emotions that washed over John’s face. None were negative. Even if they were, Wylie felt sure he would change that, with three simple words.

Maybe, before they went back to campus. Maybe, he’d give John a special Christmas present. The excitement promised by his confession of love had him feeling like a little kid again. He smirked at the irony. He would always remember he had solidified his resolve on Christmas day.

John’s eyes shifted from their hands to Wylie‘s eyes, he jerked his hand free. The movement caused the coffee to slosh from the cup, threatening to spill over and burn Wylie’s hand.

Silence.

“Merry Christmas, boys. You two look, uh, chipper this morning. I trust ya’ll didn’t get too excited to sleep last night.” Mr. Grant seemed in an especially good mood.

Wylie snickered as John’s face flushed. He had never seen John blush, so brightly. He wasn’t embarrassed. His decision last night had impacted him even more than he had thought. He didn’t care if the whole world knew that he LOVED John Grant! Wylie wanted to stretch across the table and give him a tender kiss.

Instead; he sipped his coffee.

Soon after the three men settled in with coffee and conversation, Conchatta came into the kitchen followed by a troop of descendants. Each carried a stack of containers and Christmas presents. Each seemed intent on their “Merry Christmas” being heard above the rest. Each of the younger ones clutched a toy.

All seemed excited and wanted Mr. Grant and John to comment on the gifts Santa had brought. Before long the younger children, accompanied by an assigned “supervisor”, moved to the designated spare room. While the older ones lined up to wash their hands and help in the kitchen

Wylie shared his enthusiastic comments whenever John was asked for an appraisal. There was noise and laughter and comments from Conchatta about switches and ashes under the tree for John. John retorted that Conchatta probably had a lot of influence, since she was old enough to have grown up with Santa. Two of the youngest looked at their grandmother in awe.

Chonchatta responded with a smack to the back of John’s head. Everybody laughed. Even John smiled, once he stopped rubbing his head. Conchatta was still muttering at John even as she folded egg whites into waffle batter.

John got up. went over and hugged her from behind. “Conchatta, no matter your age, you are still the most beautiful woman on the ranch.”

Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” began to echo softly throughout the house. John took the spatula from Conchatta and handed it to one of her girls. He pulled Conchatta around and began dancing her around the kitchen. Her protest held for nothing as she followed his lead perfectly around the kitchen. Before the song ended, there was a tap on John‘s shoulder. “Por favor, mi amigo.”

John bowed graciously and stepped aside as Louis took his wife and lead her through the remainder of the dance.

Everyone applauded.

Soon, breakfast was served. Everybody found seats and before long joyful noise drowned out the music.

John and Wylie walked out to the barn to check on the animals. He explained to Wylie that his dad loved children. He felt sure that had his mother not died so young, he would have had a house full of brothers and sisters. Louis and Conchatta had become an extended family. His dad had helped ensure college for their children and like John, they had worked the ranch in their off-time. When they had children of their own, it was a lot like nieces and nephews running around. Mr. Grant was godfather to three of the older children.

“Once I got older, I felt guilty that dad had never remarried. Sometimes he would introduce me to a lady he was dating. I don’t think I liked any of them. I think he was shopping for a new mother for me rather than a new wife for himself.”

“Now, looking back, I am sure that if he had found a woman he loved. I mean really loved. He would have married her.” A heavy sigh, then, “I know now that love makes you do the stupidest things, just to hold on to it.”

The look in John’s eyes made Wylie want to take him in his arms and tell him that he understood, that they had been doing was stupid.

Now was the time! There would be no waiting!

His heart pounded in his chest. He felt himself shake. His feet felt like lead and sand at the same time. Clumsily, he took a step toward John and reached for his hand.

“Merry Christmas!”

Louis greeted them as he stepped out of his office. Smiling, he let the boys know he had everything under control.

He never saw the look of regret the two young men shared. He only heard their less than enthusiastic response. Together, the three went back to the house. The noise, the music, the smells all served to distract both Wylie and John.

Between breakfast and dinner, Wylie was often greeted with someone bearing food or drink. Conchatta had prepared some traditional Mexican dishes. While each was explained with their contents and significance, Wylie simply understood they tasted great. By the time dinner was served, he was surprised to find his appetite undiminished.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the library around the Christmas tree. The older children took charge, passing around presents. Everyone had received at least a couple. Wylie wasn’t sure, but figured John and Mr. Grant were the givers. Still the presents seemed to delight each recipient. Maybe Conchatta had been consulted?

He and John received identical gifts, Australian leather, Sheperd coats, fleece lined, warm and supple. Wylie’s was a shade lighter than John’s. Conchatta and Louis gave them matching brown gloves that seemed to be extensions to the sleeves. They were every bit as soft as the coats.

Wylie also received a new Stetson from John. He figured that alone cost more than he had gotten for his pickup. It probably would have paid for the new engine it had needed. Wylie was pleased with himself in that it was only an observation. He was overwhelmed with gratitude for the gifts. He was more overwhelmed by the realization that he felt more a part of the family than he had realized. Maybe, he was.

John had helped Wylie with some of the shopping. So, Louis and Conchatta were pleased with his efforts. Mr. Grant was especially pleased with the biography of Mark Twain and impressed by the engraved Leatherman.

Wylie gave John a CD player for his Jeep and promised to install it when once they returned to campus.

After the gifts were passed around, and snacks brought out (even some of these, were new to Wylie) he realized that Conchatta had melded her traditions with those of the Grant’s. It made for a memorable Christmas for Wylie. Still, he smiled to himself as he considered the real reason that served to mark this Christmas as unforgettable.

It was early evening by the time Conchatta marshaled her forces for cleanup. Some leftovers were tucked away. While others left with her family.

The silence, after their departure, was a physical relief.

Wylie and John had helped with the clean-up. They returned to the library to find Mr. Grant, drink in hand, gazing into the fire. When they entered he greeted them with a warm smile.

“Boys, it seems to me that every year the children get bigger and noisier. I think it takes me the whole year to recover from the celebration. But, by God, every year, it seems that I look forward to it, more than I did the year before.

John, did you hear Juan say he was expecting to intern at Johns Hopkins?” Turning to include Wylie, he added, “That boy used to be so clumsy. I used to laugh at him when he would stumble over his own feet. Now, he’s going to be a surgeon. Guess you never can tell.”

The conversation continued with each talking about the day and past Christmas’s as well. There was laughter. A lot of laughter. There were a few almost tender, almost fragile moments. These latter were followed by quiet, reflective, almost reverent silences. It seemed they were to honor the memory of those, still loved, but no longer present.

It was after one of these silences that Mr. Grant moved to his desk and retrieved a small gift wrapped box and an envelope.

As his father walked away, John asked, “Wylie, did you get Mary Anne a gift?” It was asked more as a way to move to lighter topics. It was the first time any girlfriend had been discussed without a sexual side to the conversation.

Wylie was a little taken aback by the question. It took him a moment to make the connection.

“Uh, oh, no, we agreed that dating three weeks was not long enough to worry about selecting the perfect gift. Besides. I mean she’s fun and all, I mean, sure we dated a couple of times when school first started. But, we, ah, couldn‘t get along very well.”

Mary Anne was one of the girls they had meet the night of their “humping”. Wylie had progressed far beyond the frustrated groping of that night. They had literally bumped into each other after one of Wylie’s classes. They went for coffee and began dating again. Their first date concluded with the proverbial “home run“.

John watched as Wylie lightly blushed. Was he remembering their first contact? Or the fact that after the next date, more than a month later Wylie had drunkenly bragged to John that Mary Anne insisted on ’ sheathing the stalk’ herself.

John had his share of sexually adventurous co-eds. But Wylie had seemed to focus on Mary Anne once the sex began. Neither consider those escapades as a threat to their “drinking”.

Returning, Mr. Grant offered, “In my day, less than two months wasn’t much more than a first date.”

“Yeah, dad but you know today we don’t pick up our dates in a vehicle where the windshield looks out onto a horse’s ass.”

John laughed at his own joke. Wylie groaned. Mr. Grant ignored the remark.

The less than positive reception forced John to mentally review the joke. He decided it was funny. They should have laughed. He made a mental note to work on that joke.

Mr. Grant winked at Wylie as he handed the box to John.

Mr. Grant, cleared his throat and paused.

Wylie thought, to let the smell of John’s joke clear the room.

Mr. Grant addressed Wylie, “Son, I know you understand that you are important to John. That’s part of the reason that you have become important to me as well. But, I want you to know that I’ve come to think of you, not as a friend of the family, but as…, well, as family.”

“Right now, at Louis and Conchatta’s home they are opening envelopes like the one I have for you. They are family too.” Then qualified, “Extended family.”

Wylie gulped as he felt the significance of the implication “he was immediate” family.

“Wylie, John wanted to experience college the way I did. I never joined a fraternity. I had nothing against them, it’s just that they tend to exclude rather than include other students. I feel no loss at never having joined. John chose to follow me in that decision. That’s why he chose to live in the dormitory, instead of some more, ah, uh, comfortable residence. The point is that you and he have become fast friends. More. Perhaps best friends… even.”

The slight hesitation between the words “friends” and “even” inferred there was something left unsaid. Wylie smiled. John blushed.

Wylie began to understand that this “speech” was about to lead to an embarrassing situation. Wylie suddenly found it difficult to remember the comfort that had embraced him, like a warm blanket, all day. This situation was not going to deal with that issue. Mr. Grant’s next words confirmed Wylie’s assessment.

“Wylie, as soon as John told me your name. I had you investigated. I don’t apologize for that. John’s situation is such that a lot of people have and will try to take advantage. I won’t let that happen. So, I had you checked out. I am proud to say that what I learned has been confirmed by John’s opinion as well as my own. Wylie, welcome to the family.”

With that he handed Wylie the envelope.

Wylie noticed that as Mr. Grant talked those warm brown eyes of both the Grant men seemed to moisten. Whatever this was, it was no joking matter.

At that, John rose and stood alongside his father.

Wylie, in spite of his earlier conviction, began to squirm in his chair. Swimming was the only time he didn’t object to being the center of attention. Now, he felt embarrassed. Almost isolated. He needed John beside him. He fought to remain seated. He wanted to be reassured by John’s touch. He wanted to stand next to him and at least be able to bump into him.

Instead his attention was drawn outward as Mr. Grant took a seat and John, still standing, cleared his throat. “Wylie, I know you liked what you got for Christmas. I know you may think this a little unfair. When you came with me, I know you didn’t know what to expect. Every day you have been here just seems better than the day before. I know dad has known you almost as long as I have. He probably knows more about you than I do. But, what I know I like...” (there was a slight hesitation, then in almost a whisper) “a whole lot.”

“Anyway, I talked to dad and we agreed that you should know how I, uh, we feel about you. Somehow, we know, ah, hope, that you will be a part of this,” with a glance at his father, “family, for a long time.”

“I got this for you while we were in town shopping. Almost had to beat up the guy in order to get it engraved.”

He held out the gift-wrapped box. “Merry Christmas, Wylie.”

Wylie stood in order to accept the box and envelope. Once he held them, John took a seat beside his father.

Wylie felt a small urge to return the envelope, refuse the box and just run. He was mentally building that feeling toward a reality. Racking his brain for a solution he came upon the thought that had awakened him this morning. He stopped fidgeting, took a deep breath and reaching out, said simply, “Thank you John. Thank you Mr. Grant. I have been almost overwhelmed since I got here. First by just the size of the ranch, then the dealership; but most importantly the way I was made to feel welcome. It’s always been hard for me to really feel comfortable in a strange place. I can’t tell you how many times I visited campus, before I was at ease with the whole place.

Most folks tell you to make yourself at home. They don’t really mean it. With you, John, I feel at home whenever you’re beside me. Mr. Grant, you made me feel almost like I was a brother to John. I never once had a reason to feel anything more than truly welcomed here.”

“I don’t need gifts or anything. What I’ve found as John’s friend is already worth more to me than you can even imagine. I know that these,” indicating the envelope in one hand and the box, in the other “are your way of trying to convince me of how important you both consider me to be. You’ve already shown that. But, thank you. Both of you.”

His voice broke only a little and the moisture in his blue eyes seemed to make them glow. He looked at the contents of both hands, trying to decide which to open first. Mr. Grant resolved that dilemma, by indicating the box.

Wylie tucked the thick envelope under right arm and proceeded to tear off the wrapping paper. He recognized the symbol right away. He hesitated. He searched John’s eyes with a look of trepidation. His lips were ready to utter words as yet unformed.

John saw the look. With more humor than he intended, he said, “Wylie, you already accepted it and already said thank-you. Now, will you please close your mouth and open the box?”

It took a moment. He wanted to be angry with John. He wanted to look inside the box. Maybe it was a joke. Maybe.

What he saw when he opened the box was definitely not a joke. The sweep second hand ticked around the face of a Rolex, stainless steel, Submariner. The only one he had ever seen was the one John wore. Wylie had admired it once. The inscription on the reverse had said, “Amat Victoria Curam” (victory loves preparation). John had explained it was a gift from his dad when he went into junior high. The watch had been given to his father when he had entered college. John’s dad had felt the sooner John understood the significance of the motto, the easier his life would be. Wylie liked the idea.

Gently, almost reverently, Wylie took his watch from the box. Carefully he placed the box on a small table next to his chair. He felt the weight. Remembering John’s and wondering if all expensive watches were heavy. On the reverse he read aloud, the phrase “Amicus optima vitae possessio“.

John and his father watched as Wylie struggled with the Latin phrase. Both shared a smile. Finally Wylie, with a puzzled look, said, “friend best life possession?” That earned a chuckle from John.

John’s father gave John what was intended to be a disapproving look. John was too busy watching Wylie to see anything else.

“Wylie, it means ‘a friend is life’s greatest treasure’. Don’t let John give you a hard time. He had to have my help in getting it right. You did an amazing job, considering it’s a dead language.”

“Look boys, I have to go see an old friend. Wylie, John can answer any questions you have regarding the contents of the envelope. I think now that the excitement is over, it is a good time for me to go. I figure you boys can get along without me for a while.”

Wylie was fastening the clasp on the Rolex and hardly acknowledged the man’s exit.

The grin on John’s face felt almost like a permanent fixture. He had half expected Wylie to flatly refuse the earlier gifts. He had seen Wylie fidget in his chair, as his father spoke. He knew his love was a proud man.

My Love; John thought the phrase archaic, but appropriate.

If any of this smelled of charity, It would mean severe consequences. John prayed Wylie would understand the spirit in which these things were given.

John thought Wylie’s facial expression was of a kid who had asked Santa for a puppy, and then found a whole litter under the tree, along with a Louisville slugger, a new bicycle and keys to a new car.

Wylie was enthralled!

John had never felt so, so… warm inside.

The watch had been John’s gift. The envelope was from his father. John hesitated to remind Wylie of the envelope. He was enjoying the obvious pleasure with which his gift was received.

It may have been a minute, it may have been twenty; John finally reminded Wylie, “Hey, before you wear that thing out. You have one more present to open.”

Wylie had been moving his left arm reveling in the heft of the pricey watch. He blushed at John’s comment.

He debated as to whether or not to continue wearing the watch, least he lose or damage it. He opened and closed the clasp several times. John recognizing his friend’s dilemma, said, “Wylie, it’s a watch. You’re supposed to wear it.” Before the last blush faded, it received reinforcements.

Wylie turned his focus toward the envelope and pulled it from under his arm. Carefully, he tore it open. As he turned the envelope to extract the contents, something fell to the floor.

Keys?

Bending down his head collided with John’s. Thwaack! The sound of a hammer striking a coconut.

Each drew back and clasped their heads. After a moment John said, “I think I’ll let you pick them up.”

Wylie retrieved the keys. A questioning look plastered his face as if asking John for an explanation.

John, with an enigmatic smile, simply shrugged.

“Dad, talked to me about some of the contents. I am not sure what all is in there. Why don’t you find out?”

Keys, obviously to some kind of vehicle, in hand, Wylie explored the envelope.

There were several pieces of paperwork, each folded so they had to be straightened to read.

The first he chose to open, he was pretty sure was the title to a vehicle; the owners name was “Wylie Keyes”. The vehicle was a two year old Jeep Grand Cherokee. Wylie was dumbfounded, to say the least. Since his truck had quit on him, he had relied on public transportation or, more recently, John.

“John, Is this because you resent having to haul my ass around. Gees! I could have caught the bus. You didn’t have to buy me a car!”

John’s laugh was unrestrained. It was a good thing he was already seated otherwise, he would have fallen to the floor. As it was, he still almost slipped from his chair. He had lost control. “Wylie, don’t… don’t, I’m about to piss my pants.”

Wylie was not amused.

He waited.

And waited.

Finally his friend composed himself and responded, even as he choked back the laughter. “Wylie, I have never enjoyed hauling anybody’s ass around as much as I do your’s. This was dad’s idea. I think he skipped out so he wouldn’t have to argue with you about it.”

“He gave you Joe Don’s company vehicle. Joe Don gets one every other year. He doesn’t use them that much. Dad hates to trade them in. He had given one to Louis and Conchatta. I got the last one.

“No” again laughing “No, Wylie this is not about me hauling your ass around. It has been delivered to the campus. You can pick it up when we get back. If I resented hauling your ass around, I would have let you drive it back.”

“Now.” Fully composed, but still grinning . “What other Christmas goodies are in the envelope?”

Wylie found two more pieces of paper. One held a bankcard; also in his name. The other was a cashier’s check.

“John, tell me this is a joke!” Wylie proffered both pieces of paper to John.

John got a serious look on his face. His glanced at the paperwork and then back to Wylie. He repeated this routine, several times. He stood and paced in front of Wylie. He stopped and scanned both papers before he resumed his pacing.

Wylie’s patience, if he had any, was soon exhausted. His confusion had slipped to real concern when John started pacing. “John. Goddamnit! What is this all about?”

John ignored his friends question and continued pacing.

Finally, Wylie stepped in front of him and grabbed his arms and demanded, “Will you FUCKING TALK TO ME?”

John, still grim faced, looked Wylie in the eye. “Wylie, you know what this means. Don’t you?”

Wylie was beyond reasoning now. He shook John; well, he tried to shake John.

John extricated himself from his friends grip. Looking into his eyes, he sighed. “Wylie, my friend, as best I can tell, in my opinion, all this means just one thing.” With that he paused.

Wylie gauged that pause as having lasted just short of forever.

“Well?”

Even though Wylie had forced John to stop pacing, the serious expression never altered.

“Wylie, this means…. you’re buying for the whole next semester.” With that John scooped his friend up and spun him around several times.”

The spinning came to an abrupt halt when one of Wylie’s thrashing knees made contact with John’s balls. Wylie was dropped like the proverbial ‘hot potato’. John fell to the floor, drew up into a fetal position, cupped his balls and groaned.

Wylie stood over him, with a slight smile of satisfaction.

“Serves you right, asshole. Now, get up and explain to me what this is all about.”

“Did you do that on purpose?” John high pitched voice came through a grimace, as he tenderly cupped his balls.

“No, but I wish I had. You deserve worse. I ought to kick your ass. That pacing shit, that serious look, All BULLSHIT! Now, get up and talk to me.”

John didn’t get up. He slowly extended his frame and lay on his back. He continued to hold his balls. Certain that if he released them the nauseating pain would return.

Looking up at Wylie he stated, “It’s really not the big deal you want to make it out to be. The check is like a scholarship. Three of those were to be opened at Conchatta’s house. That’s why dad always goes to see his friend Doc on Christmas after dinner. So he won’t have to deal with the whole gratitude thing. It gets too mushy for him.”

“As for the jeep. Like I said it’s Joe Don’s company car. I got one. Now, you get one. It’s no big deal. Dad did it partly because he wants you to be able to come to the ranch anytime you want, even if I can’t come with you.”

“As to the credit card. You’ll probably find a limit the same as the check. Likely the next card won’t have limitations. That‘s how he did mine.”

Wylie started to protest. John released his balls and held his hand up to silence Wylie. At the same time he noted the threatened pain had not materialized. Once he was sure he had silenced Wylie, he stood up.

“Wylie, you know you mean a lot to me. I can’t put into words, how much. I think you have some Idea.” Hesitating; then continuing, “The fact is Wylie, you’re family to me and by proxy or by private investigators or by gut instinct, you’re family to Dad too.”

“When we leave here you can leave the watch, leave the keys, leave the check and all that bullshit. Hell, you can leave the coat, hat and gloves. You can leave here naked. Wylie, you can leave all this. It’s just stuff.

But, this stuff is part of my life. It’s part of Dad’s life. You’ve become a big part of our lives. This wasn’t meant to overwhelm you. This was meant to send you a message.”

John’s heart was pounding in his chest. His dad would have handled this better. John wanted to chose his words carefully. This was not a time for caution. He opened his heart… not all the way; but close.

“Wylie, this stuff, this message, was meant to welcome you to the family. Just as sure as if you were born into it, adopted into, or married into it, you are part of this family. If you reject this “stuff” you’re rejecting our family…. You’ll be rejecting Dad. You’ll be rejecting me. If you reject it, I’ll take it that you don’t want to be part of my life… that you don’t feel about me the way I feel about you. Please, Wylie. Try to accept that all of this is because you are special to me.”

Wylie could hear the plea in John’s voice. It hurt to hear. He didn’t want John to be in pain. Still it was a lot to take in and his next step was a big Texas sized step. A couple of things that John said and so many things left unsaid, washed through Wylie’s brain. Born, adopted, married. Wylie knew that what John was saying was the very thing John would be hearing, once they got back to the dorm; “I Love You.”

Wylie choked back a sob. As much to keep John from seeing his eyes tear, he stepped forward and wrapped John in a hug. He wanted it to be a kiss, that would come soon. For now, a warm hug would suffice.

With his lips touching the tender skin of Wylie’s neck John muttered, “No knees. Please, Wylie. No knees.”

Wylie burst into laughter and released his death grip on John. Stepping back, choking back the laughter he agreed, “Ok, family. No knees.”

After a moment to regain composure he asked, “So when do I get to see my new wheels?”

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