The police had arrived in the middle of breakfast and asked them to come down to the station to answer a few questions.

“All four of us?”

Cameron was immediately suspicious that his sister had instigated some new tactic and asked to see a warrant.

“We can get one if you’d prefer to be arrested.”

“On what charges?”

“I couldn’t say. I wasn’t told.”

Cameron wasn’t afraid of going back to Macon this time, but Ed had insisted on coming along.

“You don’t have to, you know,” he said. “I’ll only be there a day. Two at most.”

“You don’t need to be there either. You can overnight the stuff to Caille. You’re just making an extra trip for her.”

“She’d have to go there anyway to bring it. Besides, I want to be there in person. You never know what more they’ll want.” He’d had himself genetically tested and had managed to dig up some other documents that proved he was Cameron Enslik. “There’s no reason for you to go too.”

“I won’t be bored. I can spend time with Jay and Baron while you’re at the courthouse or wherever it is you have to go.” Cameron would be staying with them this time. Liv had finished putting everything into boxes and no longer came by. “I also thought I could meet with the people in Atlanta who’re making plans for the house. You said I could handle that aspect of it.”

“Who will be making plans. No one’s doing anything until they know we’ll get it. There’s nothing you can do there that can’t be done by email.”

Making plans for the house was an excuse, and they both knew it. Sure, Ed was excited about the house, but if he wanted to be with him it was just to give him moral support. Cameron didn’t need it. He was calm and determined. He’d seen his sister and lived through it. In fact, it had been easy, so easy that he actually looked forward to staying with Jay and Baron right next door to where he’d grown up. He didn’t care if Liv showed up or not. If she had problems with that, too bad for her.

Oddly enough, the reunion with his brother that he’d so looked forward to had been harder on Ed than Cameron’s reunion with his sister, which he’d dreaded, had been on him.

Tim had come to Boston with his wife and daughter almost as soon as they got back. The brothers had gone to hug each other, and the second Tim’s arms were around him Ed broke down and started crying. At first they took it for tears of joy, but his crying quickly turned to sobs and he couldn’t control his breathing. He weakly separated himself from Tim and stumbled to the sofa. Shaking, he signaled with his hands that no one should go near him, that he didn’t want to be touched. Then he fell over onto his side and buried his face in the cushions.

Tim was at a loss. He stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds, trying to take it all in, and finally asked, “What’s happening?”

Cameron ought to have known, but didn’t. Tim’s wife, Janice, had to explain the situation. “He’s letting it all out,” she said. “The kid inside him is reliving it. It won’t last long.”

“Maybe I should pour him a drink,” Cameron suggested, heading for the dining room table, where they’d laid out some snacks for their guests.

“A drink is the last thing he needs. Show me which way to the kitchen and tell me where you keep the tea. You come too, Tim. He needs to be alone right now.”

Their daughter, who’d started on the crackers, had stopped chewing when Ed broke down. “Why he crying, Mommy?” she asked.

“Grown-ups cry sometimes, too, honey. Come help me and Daddy. You can bring the crackers with you. Are they good crackers?”

Cameron was going to follow, but Janice said, “No. You stay with him.”

She was a rock. So sure of herself, so efficient, and so young, too. Only in her twenties. She reminded him a little of Marc, the director of the safe home, unflappable in a crisis. But Marc had years of experience, and crises must be second nature to him by now. They both had the rare ability care deeply about someone’s pain and communicate that caring without getting upset, or at least not showing that they were upset. Liv got upset, but was cold as ice.

He went and sat on the sofa and put his arms around Ed. Ed made a feeble attempt to pull away, then let himself be lifted and cried in his arms. The sobs were starting to subside. In a little while he’d be himself again.

He didn’t think he’d have reacted like Ed if Liv had been like Tim and glad to see him. At most he’d have shaken her hand and they’d have exchanged a few polite words. They hadn’t been close as children. She was so much younger and her father’s favorite – Princess, he used to call her – while he could remember nothing but coldness from the man. The man, that’s how he thought about him, not as his father. His mother was different. He loved her, but she’d belonged to her husband’s world, and Cameron couldn’t find a place in it.

Ed had stopped crying. He sniffed and swallowed as he wiped his eyes with the ball of his palm. Cameron asked if he should get him a tissue, but he shook his head and pressed against him harder, wanting to be held.

“Your sister-in-law is terrific,” Cameron murmured. “She understands a lot. Pretty, too. I think she’s pregnant. It barely shows, but I think she is. Your Timmo’s a lucky man. He’s lucky to have you, too.”

Ed swallowed. “Where are they?”

“In the kitchen, making tea.”

“Still? How long does it take to make tea?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s all ready. They’re just waiting until you’re OK.”

“God, what must they think of me? To come all this way, and then I go and make a scene.”

“I’m sure they understand.”

“I was happy, you know. And then suddenly there was all this pain inside me and everything hurt.”

“I know.”

Ed stood up. “Well, I’d better let them see I’m better now,” he said, and headed toward the kitchen.

When the phone rang, Liv assumed it was either her husband or the police. The last person she expected to hear from was Christian Worthy.

“We have a court date for tomorrow at one,” he said. “Judge Cole again.”

Liv’s response surprised him more than getting a call from him had surprised her. “Do you think you can have this postponed?”

“You want it postponed? Why?”

“I might not be able to make it. I may have to go to the police station.”

“What for?”

She told him.

“Oh, Mrs. Redding, I’m so very sorry! You must be devastated.”

“I’ll be all right. It’s my boy I’m worried about. The police have been very supportive. They’ve already hauled some men in for questioning. It seems it takes an actual crime to get any action around here.”

Worthy ignored the dig. Liv went on: “But I may not be able to make court.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem since the police station is next door. They’d probably excuse you for a while to honor the subpoena...”

“I’ve been subpoenaed?”

“Didn’t you get it?”

“Maybe they left it at the hotel desk. Don't they know we're staying with the Heymers?”

“They’re supposed to give it to you personally.”

“Why would I be subpoenaed? And how do you know about it when I don’t?”

“Oh, I hear things. I don’t know what it’s about, but I wouldn’t worry about it. That’s just what it’s called when you’re asked to appear in court. It doesn’t mean you’ve been charged with anything. As I was about to say, if you’re not there I’ll explain your situation to the judge. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Liv tried calling her husband the second she got off the phone, but he was already in the air on his way to Georgia.

On Ballard’s advice, Eric put off filing the divorce papers until his return so as not to give his wife grounds to contest his decision to bring the kids back to Idaho. With the help of his lawyer and the local Child Protection Agency, it had taken Eric just a little over two hours to have a petition filed allowing him to take them. He did it all by phone. Ballard also put him in touch with a colleague in Macon, Elliot Cannon, to represent him so the temporary transfer of custody would go smoothly.

“The only obstacle I foresee,” Cannon had told him, “is that the police will want to keep the boy in Georgia for questioning. They won’t be doing that themselves, of course, in case it intimidates the kid. They’ll get a social worker to do it. I’ll find out who they’ve assigned that to and get in touch with her.”

“You’re sure it will be a her?” Eric asked.

“Take my word for it. I’ll contact her and ask her to get the interview out of the way as promptly as possible. She’ll cooperate, I’m sure. It’s in the best interests of your son to get him out of there and back home as soon as possible. Scott will arrange with Child Protection to have him meet with a psychologist there if follow-up interviews are necessary. He’ll need some counseling even if we find out right away who it was.”

Eric phoned his wife from the airport in Atlanta. He hadn’t been able to get a connecting flight into Macon.

“I’ll come pick you up right away,” she said. “I’ve been using the Heymers’ second car.”

“All the way to Atlanta? That won’t be necessary. I’m renting one anyway.”

“Do you need directions?”

“Yes, please. I think I remember how to get there, but I could get lost.”

“I’ll ask Jessie if there’s a cot Li’l Eric can use. We can switch rooms with the girls.”

“I won’t be staying there. I’ve reserved a suite at the same hotel we stayed at the last time I was here. I’ll pick you and the children up and we’ll go straight to the hotel.”

“Why not here?”

“I don’t feel comfortable with them. And just so there’ll be no surprises, I’m taking the kids home with me.”

“You’re not staying?”

“What for? The police and the courts will handle it. What’s important is to get them away from a place that’s threatening to them and into familiar surroundings. The luggage hasn’t come in yet, and after that I need to get the car. You have plenty of time to get their things together.”

“You’re taking the kids?”

“You too, unless you don’t want to come.”

“You’re taking the kids? I won’t let you.”

“I thought you’d be against it, so I’m asking permission from the court.”

“That was quick!”

“Mercifully quick. I’ll see you in three, maybe four hours.”

Liv felt attacked on all sides. She could guess now why she’d been subpoenaed. Mr. Worthy must have known, too, and he hadn’t told her. “What happened to Li’l Eric wasn’t my fault,” she said.

“I never said it was your fault. I just think we should get him away from here as soon as possible. He’ll feel safer at home.”

“You’re blaming me. It isn’t fair.”

“No.” But he didn’t say which of her two statements he was answering.

She decided not to pack the kids’ things, but wait and see what the judge would say. She absolutely had to show up. She called the police and told them she had to go to court and wouldn’t be available early afternoon tomorrow if they wanted to meet with her and Li’l Eric.

“No problem,” the desk officer said. “We’ve scheduled him to meet with the psychologist at three. Court’s right next door.”

Elliot Cannon was a very efficient lawyer.

They met in chambers, the Reddings, their attorneys, Judge Cole, a court stenographer (not Jessie), and a young, pleasant-looking woman nobody bothered to introduce to them. They left the children in the bailiff’s care. It wasn’t expected the meeting would last very long.

Liv had quickly whispered to Worthy what was going on when they met in the corridor. “Why didn’t you call and tell me?” he asked, clearly annoyed. “I’m totally unprepared!”

“What good would it have done?” Liv thought. “You never return my calls.”

“I doubt it will make a difference,” Worthy continued. “They won’t let your son leave the State until the police finish their investigation.”

Mr. Worthy was right. It was the first thing the judge said in response to Eric’s petition, and he added that under the circumstances it would be unwise to separate Li’l Eric from his sisters.

“Please, Your Honor,” Cannon said, pointing to the as yet unidentified young woman, “Mrs. Stark here is best qualified to address your concerns.”

The woman introduced herself. “Sharon Stark, clinical psychologist, Your Honor.” She handed him her card. “I’ve been assigned to work with the boy.”

“I’m listening, Mrs. Stark,” Judge Cole said.

“Thank you, Your Honor. I’m scheduled to meet with the child this afternoon, after this matter is concluded. Nine times out of ten, while we don’t get all the details in the first session, we do learn who the culprit was. That will suffice for the police to make an arrest and proceed with their investigation. The child will be better off in familiar surroundings. In my opinion, it’s to everyone’s advantage. He’s more likely to open up in a setting where he feels less threatened. Mr. Redding has arranged for a therapist for him in Idaho. I’ll fax her all my notes, and she can take it from there.”

“Mightn’t you change your mind and wish to interview him again?”

“It’s not impossible. The police can always request a delay if I do.”

The judge asked Eric when he planned to leave.

“I’ve reserved a flight for tomorrow morning.”

“I assume you’ll know by then if you’ll want to have a second meeting with the minor?” the judge asked the psychologist.

She nodded assent.

“Then I’ll order the children placed in their father’s custody so he can return them to Idaho. I would strongly urge you to go with them, Mrs. Redding. Your son needs you, and as far as the other matter is concerned, you serve no useful purpose here.”

“He will recuse himself,” Worthy thought.

Liv nodded. She had no intention of leaving, however; she couldn’t let go. They were all against her. She had no hope of winning unless she were there to intervene, and if she did lose, which seemed likely, she might at least be able to keep them from putting her mother’s name or Ronnie’s on the shelter.

When they left the judge’s office, Mrs. Stark went up to the Reddings and asked them to call her Sharon. She wanted to know if they’d both be waiting outside while she met with Li’l Eric.

“Are we both needed?” Eric asked. “I thought I’d go back with the girls to where they’ve been staying and bring their things to the hotel.”

“No. It’ll be enough if his mother’s there.”

“Liv, will you please call the Heymers and tell them I’m coming?”

“If you like.”

“Should I get your things too?”

“Not yet.”

He’d asked Liv to phone so he’d have the opportunity of speaking to the psychologist alone. “My wife’s gotten it into her head that one of the four men who are opposing her on the house... You know about the house?”

Sharon nodded.

“Then you also know they’re gay. Anyway, she thinks it was one of them who molested Li’l Eric.”

“So I’ve heard. I don’t see how it could be. None of them have ever been alone with him.”

“I don’t think so either. I was afraid she might influence your line of questioning.”

“Not to worry. The police have all but eliminated them as suspects. A good friend of mine is the investigating detective. He says it turns his stomach to have to grill four men who are so obviously innocent, but the chief insists. I’ve been meaning to ask – should I call your son Li’l Eric when I meet with him?”

“No, just Eric. Li’l Eric is a family name. Will you also try to convince his mother to come home with us?” Then he added, “I intend to file for divorce if she doesn’t.”

“Have you told her this?”

“Not yet, but I will before we go. She has more than enough on her plate as it is.”

“And the judge would think twice about granting you temporary custody if he knew there was a divorce in the works. You realize that what happened to your son isn’t her fault. Nobody could have foreseen it.”

“I don’t blame her for that. It’s that she’s putting this business with the house above her son’s welfare. Isn’t that what really matters? The house is unimportant, but it’s all she thinks about nowadays. I scarcely recognize her anymore.”

“She should get counseling.”

“I’ve told her that already. I’m making it one of the conditions for continuing with the marriage. All this is off the record, of course.”

“I understand.”

Liv finished her call, and they went to get Li’l Eric and the girls.

“Patty and Clara are going to Jessie’s with Daddy to get your things,” Liv told them.

“Are we going home?” Li’l Eric asked.

“You mean back to Idaho? Do you want to go home with Daddy?”

“Yes. Shouldn’t we go get my things too?”

“Daddy will get them. We have to stay here so you can speak with this nice lady.”

Sharon crouched in front of him and said, “Hi, Eric. I’m Sharon. We’re going to have a little chat together in about an hour. Is that OK?”

“I s’pose. Where?”

“In my office. I don’t think you’ve ever seen an office like mine. It’s like a big playroom.”

“You mean with toys?”

“Lots and lots of toys.”

“Will Mommy be there too?”

“I’ll be right outside, angel, and then we’ll go to the hotel.”

“Let’s go, girls,” Eric said. “See ya later, kiddo.”

He ruffled the boy’s hair and headed toward the exit.

Sharon spent nearly half an hour trying to lead Li’l Eric around to speaking about the abuse, but once she’d got it out in the open it took only a few questions to find out what she wanted to know. The molester had opened the boy’s pants and fondled his genitals.

“Did he do anything else to you?”

“He made me touch his...”

“Did he put your hand on it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did he hurt you any other way?”

“He said he would if I told.”

“He can’t hurt you now. You’re going home, remember?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you going to miss the friends you made in Georgia?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Don’t you think people are nice here?”

He mumbled something about someone being nice to him sometimes.

“Did you say ‘Jesse’? Is Jesse the man who hurt you?”

She had to put her ear to his mouth to hear his whisper.

“No, Jessie’s his wife.”

Fletcher MacGuire, the detective assigned to the case, called them in for a second round of questioning, the men who’d lived next door to the boy’s grandmother and their friends from Boston, this time the four of them together. He had no other leads, but he knew for a fact that it was pointless. None of them could have done it. He’d interrogated them each separately the day before.

He began with the boy’s uncle, because the mother had, as she put it, “a gut feeling it was him.” MacGuire didn’t like him, and was suspicious at first. The man was hostile, somewhat cocky in his manner, and very savvy. MacGuire had the impression he’d been questioned by the police before, probably often.

He refused at first to say anything without his lawyer present, Magda Caille from Atlanta, a good two hours south of Macon.

“While we’re waiting, you’ll at least give me your name and address, I hope.”

When the man gave a Boston address, he asked, “How long have you been in Macon and how have you been spending your time here? You realize that we’ll have no trouble checking out your story.”

“We got in last night, and what I’ve done since then can wait till my lawyer gets here.”

The boy’s mother hadn’t known that. MacGuire went on: “May I ask why you came to Macon?”

“May I ask what this is all about? If you tell me, I may agree to answer some of your questions.”

MacGuire told him, and could see that the shock and surprise in the man’s face was no act. In return he opened up a little and provided some information.

“I was down here for two days about a month ago to take care of some business regarding my mother’s will. My sister’s contesting it.”

“Yes, the house. I know about that.”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Anyway, there was some question about whether I really was who I say I am, so I got some proof together while I was back in Boston. I had my DNA tested, too. That ought to show that Mrs. Redding is my sister.”

McGuire didn’t say anything while he jotted it all down. Cameron blurted out, “Jesus, that poor kid! What exactly did the bastard do to him?”

“You know I can’t give out that information when I’m trying to determine if you were involved, Mr. Enslik.”

“You can see for yourself I couldn’t have been. But yeah, I figured you wouldn’t. And the name’s Blacknoll. I had it changed.”

“I’ll make a note of that. Is there anything else you’re willing to tell me?”

“I’ll be signing some papers this afternoon. I intended to go home tomorrow, but I don’t suppose you’ll allow that now.”

“I won’t oppose your leaving if your story checks out. And your partner?”

“Husband.”

“We don’t recognize your kind of marriage in Georgia.”

“I don’t give a damn. Just make sure that the transcript says exactly what I say on that tape – my husband. Don’t go tampering with the evidence to make it conform to Georgia law.”

“Are you going to tell me why he came with you?”

“On our first trip, for moral support. This time he came to confer with some people who are making preliminary arrangements for the shelter my mother specified in her will. You’ll have to ask him for the details.”

He had never met his nephew. He refused to answer any questions about the other men. There was no point going on, or even questioning him again once his lawyer arrived unless one of the others said something to implicate him, which seemed unlikely, if not impossible.

His story meshed perfectly with what his partner... husband, whatever... had to say.

The third man he interrogated, Franklin, was so visibly shaken that MacGuire thought he might be guilty. It turned out that he’d lived for a while as a runaway and had never gotten over his irrational fear of the police. MacGuire also learned that he’d been brutally molested as a child. Statistically, that would make him more likely to abuse children, but it didn’t give him much to go on.

Caille had arrived by the time he got around to questioning the black man, who impressed him because of his dignity and reserve. He’d tried another tack with him, saying, “I see your brother is in prison.”

Caille looked as if she was about to jump down his throat, but Christ merely said, with haughty calm, “Then he couldn’t have done it, could he?”

Convinced of the sincerity of the disgust and horror all four had expressed, MacGuire had decided to question them as a group on the off-chance that if there was a hole in one of their stories one of the others would pick up on it. He didn’t think they would try to cover for the molester.

The police had arrived in the middle of breakfast and asked them to come down to the station to answer a few questions.

“All four of us?”

Cameron was immediately suspicious that his sister had instigated some new tactic and asked to see a warrant.

“We can get one if you’d prefer to be arrested.”

“On what charges?”

“I couldn’t say. I wasn’t told.”

Baron said, “We’ll go there on our own. We still have to shower and dress and call in to work to tell them we’ll be late. We can be there about ten. If you want to get a warrant in the meantime, go right ahead.”

“No, ten o’clock is good.”

They finished their breakfast in silence. It was useless speculating why the police wanted to question them. But after they got home from the station they talked about it non-stop.

News of any kid being molested always made Jay physically ill. That night he picked at his dinner and could barely keep it down. Later, Ed and Cameron could hear Baron comforting him in the room next to theirs. The sounds were embarrassingly loud and made them more than a little jealous.

As MacGuire expected, the group interrogation was going nowhere. He’d looked into their stories and they had all checked out. He had nothing to ask, really.

A very overweight police officer stuck his head in the door.

“Fletch, will you step outside a second?”

“Time to play ‘good cop, bad cop’?” the boy’s uncle sneered. He’d been openly hostile from the beginning.

MacGuire was gone less than a minute. “You can go home now,” he said. “We know who it was.” He looked straight at Enslik (he couldn’t bring himself to think ‘Blacknoll’) and added, “You see, that we were ‘wasting our time’ questioning you doesn’t mean we wasted all our time.”

If MacGuire had been expecting an apology for his ‘good cop, bad cop’ crack, he didn’t get one.

Franklin, who had reacted the most strongly when he learned of the molestation, muttered, “I hope they lock the bastard up for life.”

“They won’t; nowhere close. It seems nothing more went on than a little fondling.”

“Isn’t that bad enough?” the uncle asked. “How many times did he do it?”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“So there could be more.”

“Let’s hope not. What really freaked the boy out was being made to touch the man’s genitals.”

Franklin groaned. “Was he... Did he have an erection?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

Franklin groaned again. The black man gave his upper arm a gentle squeeze. “C’mon, Jay. Let’s go home. It’s over now. They’ve caught him.”

Jessie wondered what was taking Liv so long. She’d told her she’d stop by for the children’s things as soon as they’d finished with the social worker. Everything was packed and waiting to be picked up.

She was doing the dishes when the police came to the door. They asked if she was Mrs. Heymer.

“Yes, that’s me.”

They showed her a warrant which she didn’t read and asked to speak to Dennis.

“What’s this about?”

“Is your husband home?” the officer repeated.

“He’s in the basement, watching television.”

“Can you take us there, please?”

They handcuffed him, read him his rights, and arrested him.

Jessie felt her head spinning. Not in a million years could she have imagined something of the sort happening to them. She was frantic.

“Why are you arresting him? What is he charged with?”

“Child molestation.”

“Dennis! What’s going on? Tell me!”

“Just get me a lawyer,” he said, and the policemen escorted him to the squad car.

Liv couldn’t bring herself to go back to the Heymers’ to get their belongings. She begged Eric to do it for her, and to pick up her things as well. She’d get a smaller room in their hotel; she couldn’t possibly stay with Jessie now.

“Won’t you come home with us?”

She shook her head. “In a couple of days maybe. If I just up and left now, it would look like I was running away. It’s strange, but I feel so sorry for that woman and what she’ll have to go through.”

“There’s nothing strange about that. You don’t want to tell her that yourself?”

“I don’t think I could bear to look at her.”

“I’ll go pick up your stuff, but you have to promise to stay here in the hotel with the children until I get back. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not up to going anywhere.”

She looked so listless, he felt he could take her word for it.

Jay thought he recognized the man at the door, but he couldn’t place him.

“Is Ronnie here?” the man asked. “I’m Eric Redding, his brother-in-law.”

Cameron heard, and got up from his chair in the living room to come to the door.

“The name is Cameron now,” he said. “How did you find me?”

“I called your lawyer, that Ms. Caille.”

“And what do you want?”

“To speak with you alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Let’s go sit on the porch.”

“I want to apologize for what my wife has put you through,” Eric said. “I tried to stop her, but she won’t listen. I even refused to pay for the lawyer – she used her own money for that – but I know I should have done more. I’m ashamed I didn’t have the courage to put my foot down.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

“I thought of calling you when I heard you had... er... popped up out of nowhere. It seems incredible she still means to go on with it.”

“Shocking, isn’t it? But it doesn’t surprise me. Many homophobes are like that. How else do you account for gay bashing?”

“I knew my wife didn’t like gays, but I never dreamed the hatred went that deep. It’s unavoidable that we all have our prejudices, I suppose, but most people don’t let them take complete control of their lives.”

“That’s true.”

“I keep thinking there must be more to it, some reason for Liv acting the way she is. I’ve filed for divorce, you know. Anyway, I’m here to ask you to forgive me.”

“I have no bone to pick with you.”

“Do you want to meet your nieces and nephew? They’re playing in Alma’s yard in back. I didn’t want them to hear what I had to tell you.”

Her husband and children were back in Idaho. Liv had shut herself up in a little hotel room, the TV playing a constant stream of talk in the background while she agonized over the state of her marriage, over Li’l Eric’s ordeal, over whether to pursue the case further.

Eric had called to let her know they’d got home safely and told her he’d taken the kids to meet Ronnie before they left. She listened numbly, but when he started telling her about their conversation, she asked him not to. She didn’t speak to the kids.

Mr. Worthy had called too, asking if she meant to drop the case. She’d get back more than three-quarters of the ten thousand dollars she’d paid him as a retainer. She could use the money.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

Eric considered her responsible for what had happened to Li’l Eric; she was certain he did. It was unfair, but understandable enough. His terms for reconciliation – that she go into therapy – were no less unfair. She wouldn’t accept them, though she was afraid of losing custody of her children. She ought to get another lawyer to handle the divorce, someone in Idaho, but that meant leaving Macon. Not that she wanted to stay there; she just didn’t have the energy to move.

She was alone. Jessie had been her only friend in Macon, and she had nobody she could turn to for comfort. The day after tomorrow was Sunday. She decided to attend meeting. It would be hard for her, an outsider, to face the pitying stares of the congregation, but if she went maybe God would tell her what to do.

Pastor Rich welcomed her warmly and promised to have everyone there pray for her and her family in their time of tribulation.

Jessie and Dennis arrived after the second hymn. Liv realized he must be out on bail.

A hush came over the hall. Dennis walked down the aisle, fell to his knees, wept, confessed, repented, begged to be forgiven.

Liv watched him humiliate himself, convinced that the humiliation she felt was greater. When Pastor Rich called on the congregation to “forgive this sinner who has returned to the fold”, she stood up and walked out.

“Why so unforgiving, sister?” Pastor Rich called out after her.

Three more days went by. Liv couldn’t face another night in the hotel. She had dreams, dreams she couldn’t remember that made her wake in the dark covered in sweat, her heart pounding against her rib cage. If she tried leaving the light on, she couldn’t sleep.

She stood in front of the dresser, studying herself in the mirror. Though she had put on weight living at Jessie’s, she looked haggard, older. Above all, she noticed the pained look in her eyes and her thin-lipped, unsmiling mouth. What a sad face! The stress of the past two months had taken its toll. She raised her left hand to her cheek and stroked it. Her skin had become drier.

How tired she was! Maybe if she stayed up all night she’d be able to sleep during the day. She aimed the remote and turned on the TV. A handful of people were sitting in armchairs talking about religion... her religion. She switched it off.

The occasional footsteps in the hall outside disappeared, leaving the hotel silent as a tomb. She felt the walls closing in on her. Maybe she could find an all-night coffee shop nearby, stay there, and come back to sleep in the morning. The buses had stopped running. She’d ask the desk clerk where to go.

She gathered her things and started putting them in her purse. Her eye fell on the key she hadn’t returned. Why, she could sleep at Mama’s house! Who was to know, so long as she kept the hotel room? It was clear across town, but she could call a cab.

When she got to the house, she stood on the porch, key in hand, afraid to open the door. There were ghosts here too. Mama had died in the house, and it was alive with memories. But where else could she go? The cab had driven off.

She opened the door and went upstairs to her old room. The bedding had been packed; she’d have to sleep on the bare mattress and pillow, without sheets and covers, but the room was hot and stuffy anyway; she wouldn’t need them. She opened her window, got into her nightdress, and fell asleep easily.

The sound of her door creaking open woke her. She sat up in bed and screamed. The room glowed faintly in the moonlight; the door was closed. Dreaming again. She checked her watch. Three a.m. She’d go to the kitchen, make herself a cup of tea to calm her nerves, and return to bed. Lucky that she had thought to bring a couple of tea bags from the hotel. Iced tea would be better on such a hot night, but the refrigerator had been cleaned and emptied, its doors left open.

From the head of the stairs she saw a light coming from the living room. Had she left it on? She didn’t remember turning on a light. How could she have? They’d turned off the electricity.

Her mother sat under the lamp in her favorite armchair by the corner window, her black cat purring in her lap.

“Mama, was it you who opened my door?”

“Of course, child. A mother always looks in on her children to see if they’re safe.”

“Is that why you came, Mama – to look in on me?”

“No, dear, I knew you were safe. Nobody’s here to hurt you. I came because I was lonely.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Don’t be sorry. It was my own fault. It’s always your own fault if you’re lonely.”

“How was it your fault?”

“Don’t you know? Because I let him have his way.”

“I’ve been having such horrible dreams, Mama.”

“You’ve taken on Li’l Eric’s dreams. Let that be a comfort to you.”

“They’re his? Are you sure? I can’t remember any of them.”

”How could you? You’re afraid to tell yourself what you want to tell the world. They’ll come flooding back after you die. Memories are all we take with us from this world.”

“Mama, tell me what to do.”

“No, child. What difference would it make? Nothing is done unless you yourself choose to do it.”

“Are the answers in the Bible, Mama?”

“Some, not all.”

“Is everything it says true?”

“What is truth? We’re responsible for what we do, not the Bible.”

“If God tells us to do something, does that count as our choosing to do it?”

“What a foolish question! God is in our hearts.”

“I asked God what to do, but He didn’t answer.”

“Oh, but He did. He answered through Pastor Rich.”

“Must I forgive that man?”

“There is no must, child. We have free will.”

“I couldn’t forgive him even if he came and asked me to.”

“Then you ask forgiveness.”

“You mean go back to Idaho?”

“Yes, I suppose you could do that. He won’t follow you there. But we should forgive everyone.”

“Him too? Did you know about him?”

“I wish I had. It might have given me the courage to do what I knew I should. I’m paying for it now. My body will sleep next to his for all eternity.”

“Then you have no peace? Not even after death?”

“I thought I could find peace through good works...”

“You mean the will. You came to ask me to honor it.”

“I told you why I came. I was lonely. As lonely lying next to him in the earth as I was living with him.”

“Are you being punished?”

“Punished? There is no punishment. We die with what we lived with, that’s all. The same demons haunt me that tormented me in life, and also those I hid from. Faith, love, good works... nothing can dispel them. Yours will too.”

“The Bible calls what Ronnie does, what he is, an abomination.”

“The Bible, always the Bible! One reads the Bible to judge oneself, not to condemn others.”

“Self-judgment – is that the comfort the Bible has to offer?”

“Cold comfort, isn’t it? I tried to find comfort by leaving him a gift. It was too late.”

“Ronnie’s alive, Mama. Didn’t you know?”

“I told you – we only have memories, some true, some false. Beyond that we know nothing. If Ronnie’s alive, tell him I love him.”

“Do you love me too, Mama?”

“I came to your room, didn’t I?”

In the morning she took a cab to the cemetery. A man was standing near her mother’s grave.

“Ronnie...”

“I’m Cameron now. Call me that.”

“Mama named her cat Ronnie, you know.”

“Jay told me.”

“Will you take her?”

“No. She’s become very attached to Baron.”

“Both of them black.”

She read in Cameron’s look how deep her prejudices ran, even those she thought she’d outgrown. “Is there anything you’d like of Mama’s?” she asked. “I’ve put everything in boxes.”

He shook his head.

“Not even a photograph?”

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

“Anyway, it’ll be over soon. I’m dropping the case and going back to Idaho. It’s the only intelligent thing to do.”

Ronnie nodded.

“You know Mama loved you.”

He nodded again.

Liv took a deep breath. She couldn’t say what wasn’t in her heart. “I don’t. I want to, but I don’t.”

“That’s OK,” he answered. “I’m used to hatred. But it’s hard, coming here, with his grave right next to hers.”

Out of nowhere, Judge Harris Cole ruled that zoning regulations prohibited using the house as a group home, declared Alma’s will invalid and Liv the sole heir. Simultaneously Lambda filed an appeal in Jay and Baron’s name, and Cameron filed his claim to half the estate. The story hit the papers and created a stir. Letters to the editor appeared in newspapers throughout Georgia, a few condemning the judge’s decision, but most of them venomous homophobic rants. The story was covered nationwide.

Liv was ready to return to Macon and take up the case again.

Eric put his foot down: “If you pursue this, it’s over.”

They called an emergency session with their marriage counselor to deal with the crisis.

Until then the sessions had been low key. The counselor insisted they “stay on topic”, meaning that they should focus on their relationship rather than the business with the house, which he saw as symptomatic of bigger problems. This time Eric went on the offensive.

“You can’t take the kids with you after what happened there,” he said with mounting anger. “You have to be here for them, for me. I will not let you put me on a shelf while you ride off on your high horse to vent your resentments. Either we come first or not at all. The story’s out, Liv. Everybody knows your brother’s gay. What’s more important, your family or showing the world you disapprove of him?”

He was shaking; Liv was weeping. The counselor passed Liv the box of tissues and told Eric to calm down, but on the whole he supported his point of view.

“Right now your priority should be your marriage,” he said. “It won’t wait, and if it falls apart you won’t be able to pick up the pieces later.”

“How can I work on my marriage when this is such a distraction?” Liv feebly protested.

“You can’t let it distract you.”

“I can’t help it as long as it’s going on. I’d hoped it was over, but...”

“Then put an end to it if you can’t ignore it,” Eric said.

“How?”

“There must be some kind of legal paper you can draw up binding you to sign the house over to your brother if you’re declared sole heir. They’ll drop their appeals and it’ll be done with.”

“Is that the price of our staying together?”

“It’s not that easy,” the counselor said. “The success of your marriage depends on more than that; it depends on your willingness to work through your problems. And I don’t just mean you, Liv; I mean both of you. Putting this episode behind you and getting on with your life is a first step.”

“Is there such a paper?” Liv asked.

“Scott would know.”

The house was sold and negotiations undertaken to secure another in Macon. A call for donations went out, and gay organizations and gay-friendly people from around the country responded, thanks to the press coverage the story had received. Ed and Cameron contributed generously, as did Eric Redding.

Liv protested, saying, “We agreed we’d put this behind us. They have the house. What more do they want?”

“I want them to know there are no hard feelings. As long as there are hard feelings, we haven’t put it behind us. And it’ll be a first step in reconciling you with your brother.”

“I don’t want to be reconciled with him.”

“That’s up to you.”

So there was enough money to get the house ready, hire a director, a cook and a maintenance man, and set up a small capital fund. It took close to a year until The Ronnie House was ready to open. For the time being, the director, who’d worked as a counselor in a similar home in Atlanta, would be full-time everything. It would get off to a modest start, with only a couple of boys living there. Their first resident would be Lionel, a fourteen-year-old who’d been bullied in the Macon home for teens and no less miserable in the Christian foster homes that had taken him in. Two other boys would come up from Atlanta with Charlie, the new director, so he wouldn’t be alone.

But even Lionel’s transfer raised difficulties. Child Protection and local churches opposed the move. It took a court order and scandal over the abuse he’d suffered in the teen home to bring it about.

Jay and Baron gave Charlie Alma’s old black cat to live there as a mascot.

Ed and Cameron flew down for the official opening. Ed’s brother, Tim, went with them, and brought his wife, their little girl and the new baby. Marc, who welcomed an excuse to take a couple of days off, came too, and Magda Caille drove down from Atlanta. The Reddings had been invited since they made a contribution, but they declined politely without giving a reason. None was needed. Cameron understood their gesture as a peace offering and hadn’t expected them to follow up on it.

Marc, Ed and Cameron stayed with Baron and Jay. Tim and his family had intended staying at a motel, but there were extra rooms in the Ronnie House with only three boys in residence, and Charlie insisted that having a gay-friendly family there would be good for them.

Not surprisingly, picketers turned out in protest the day of the opening. They outnumbered the people inside the house. Fletcher MacGuire was on hand in case of an incident, and saw the Heymers in the crowd, part of Pastor Rich’s vocal contingent. He asked them to leave.

“Why should we?” Dennis asked. He’d got off with a slap on the wrist – a modest fine and a few hundred hours of community service.

“The boy’s uncle is here.”

“So? He doesn’t know what I look like.”

The picketers made Lionel wonder how safe he’d be there. The two older boys, more streetwise from growing up in Atlanta and more secure after a year or two in a safe home, assured him, not entirely honestly, that they’d be gone tomorrow and it would all be forgotten. They’d taken him under their wing.

They dragged him over to where Cameron was standing by the punch bowl. “Charlie says you’re the Ronnie the house is named for. S’that right?”

“I used to be Ronnie. The name has bad memories for me.”

They understood what he meant. He told them a little of his story and about the will.

“And Tim – you know, in the family that’s staying here – he’s Ed’s brother. Ed’s from another safe home. He had to run away because he was gay, but they found each other years later.

“Ed the one with the black dude?”

“No, Ed’s my husband. We’re from Boston. It’s OK for men to marry there.” He pointed him out. “And now he’s here with me and with his brother. So you see, you still have family, even if they don’t want to know you now. And that’s going to change too. The picketers outside, they prove it. When I was a kid here nobody could’ve imagined that someday there’d be a home to picket.”

Alma's Will Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Anel Viz returned to his childhood passion of writing at age 60, and looks forward to making it a full-time occupation when he retires. His work in many different genres, including verse, prose poems, flashfic to novella-length stories, humor and essays, has appeared on line and in print. His most recent novella, Dancing for Jonathan, is available from Dreamspinner Press, and his short story, The Stray, can be found in the Queer Wolf Anthology.

He had short stories published in Forbidden Fruit and they are available in our Archives.

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