"Hey, Dad, come on in," Rick welcomed his father, as he walked in the back door.
Dale, and a cup of coffee waited for him at the kitchen table. Gerald greeted him warmly, then sat and took an appreciative sip of Dale's renowned brew. His eyes wandered the cozy kitchen as he relaxed into the solid comfort of the oak chair that he rested in.
He approved Dale's choice of the muted celery green paint he'd chosen for the walls, it gave the room a calm, soothing ambience. The air was scented with apples and cinnamon. Dale had proved to be an excellent cook, and Gerald's mouth watered at the thought of the apple pie that even now was baking in the oven.
He took a second sip of his coffee, "There's got to be a little magic in this cup," he sighed, "nothing totally of this earth could taste so good."
Dale gave him a grin. Rick smiled and fidgeted with the ceramic chicken salt and pepper shakers that sat in the middle of the table. He seemed fascinated by them, as though he'd never seen them before. Gerald watched his son over the rim of his cup, then spoke a gentle demand.
"All right, son, out with it."
"What?" Rick asked innocently.
"Whatever it is that has you trying to dissect that poor rooster." Gerald took the salt shaker from Rick's hand and set it on the table. He looked at Dale, "Rick never was one for hiding his feelings very well. I could always tell when he had something to confess, it always began this way."
"I know what you mean." Dale agreed giving Rick a look filled with tender fondness.
Rick knew he had better come out with it – his dad had him cold, "I need to ask a favor," he told him, "Dale's publishing company called. They want me to come to New York to sign a contract for my book."
Gerald rose from the table, Rick doing the same to intercept his dad's congratulatory hug, "That's wonderful news, son! Your mom is going to be so proud. She'll be calling everyone in the family."
Dale beamed at the two of them. Seeing them together, in this way, he could see how Steven had at first mistaken Rick for Gerald. They were the same height, their honey blonde hair the same shade and those eyes. Those beautiful, blue-green eyes that so took Dale's breath away, were bequeathed directly from Gerald's DNA. Their body type was similar, Gerald being a bit slimmer than Rick, but no less fit.
He worked hard. Physical labor kept his body honed and healthy. His skin was tanned and still smooth. His face bore laugh lines etched around the eyes, the only real indication that here was a man of greater maturity than first impression might make one assume. At 57, Gerald was fit and hearty, and, Dale had to admit, a fine looking man. He knew he'd give him more than a second look if circumstances were different.
Rick and Gerald resumed their seats, "The thing is, Dale's got a deadline to beat, he's been a bit distracted lately." Rick shot Dale a wicked look that sent a blush to Dale's cheeks. Gerald chuckled at Dale's bashful display, " I don't want to go to New York by myself. I was hoping you might come with me." Rick offered.
Gerald looked surprised then pleased. He considered a moment, "Well, I think I could find the time for that. Your mother might like to come too, son."
Rick paled slightly and Dale cleared his throat, "Um, that might be a bit of a problem."
"How so, Dale?" Gerald questioned.
"We met Steven, Dad." Rick told him.
At Gerald's blank look, Rick clarified, "Steve, your lover, before you married mom."
Rick saw a welter of emotions crossed Gerald's eyes; surprise, delight, melancholy and finally a kind of wistful caution.
"How did you meet. Where?" Gerald asked quietly.
"He's Dale's publisher, Dad. We met on the trip to New York. Dale had met him before, but had no idea he was your Steve." Rick explained. "When he saw me, he called me Gerald and then... then it all came out." Rick hesitated, "I would have told you sooner, but I... I wasn't sure I should."
"Your Mom... you wanted to protect your Mom." Gerald guessed.
Rick could only nod.
"It's all right son, I understand. But understand this. Years ago, I gave my word to your mother, and I have no intention of going back on it. I had a choice to make and I made it. It damned near broke my heart to let Steve go, but given the opportunity to change it all, I'd stay with your mother. She's my heart. Without her I would never have had the joy of being a father." Gerald cleared his throat as emotion filled it.
"I know that I could have been happy with Steve, but even at 21 I knew that I wanted a family, children of my own. If I had never met your mother, I'd most likely be with Steve now, I felt that strongly about him. But I did meet your mother and knowing that I did want that family, that home, I made the best choice for me." Gerald's voice held a note of sure finality, his eyes took on a faraway look.
"Sometimes I'd dream that your mom and Steve would meet and grow to like, even love each other, that the three of us could be together. It was a young man's wishful fantasy, but I'd have done it in a heartbeat, damn the scandal it might cause. I loved them both," Gerald revealed on a wistful note. He shook himself and smiled at Dale and Rick. His eyes cleared as that thought receded. "Is he all right?"
Rick found himself too touched by his dad's revelations to answer. He looked to Dale. "He's very well, Gerald." Dale told him, "Not long after the two of you split up, he met James, his lover and partner. They've been together almost as long as you and Irene."
Gerald's face lit with delight, his eyes going misty, "I'm so happy to hear that, boys, so very happy." He reached out and took Dale's hand in one of his and Rick's hand in the other, giving them a reassuring squeeze, "Now when do we leave for New York. I want to say hello to an old friend."
* * *
The night before their trip to New York, Gerald emerged from the bathroom after a long, soothing shower. He paused in the doorway between bath and bedroom, taking in the familiar and oh so beloved vision of his wife.
Irene stood before the mirror, brush in hand, giving her dark, lustrous hair a last few strokes before going to bed. Gerald often teased her about the futility of having such well groomed hair before bed, knowing that it would end up mussed and tangled, many times the result of his handiwork. Their lovemaking was often, and oft times vigorous. Irene had proved to be no shrinking violet in bed or out, something that Gerald had felt blessed with over the years.
In all their years together, she'd never used sex as a weapon. Irene was a fighter, up front and straight on the attack. If something bothered her, they had it out, cleared the air and many's the time sealed the deal with a powerfully potent bout of lovemaking. The fact that Gerald had been true to her all these years was not only the result of his promise and integrity, but due also to the fact that she never left him wanting. They fulfilled each other absolutely.
He leaned in the doorway, breathing in the familiar scent of her. She wasn't one for fancy soaps, perfumes or lotions. The scent was female, his woman, sweet and arousing. Gerald felt himself stiffen in anticipation.
He moved across the room and reached for her brush, laying it aside as his arms wrapped around her. He pressed himself against the soft yet firm buttocks that had cradled him many times. Irene was more than willing to be adventurous, and anal play was a big part of their ‘routine.'
He stared at their reflection in the mirror, his reflected gaze meeting hers, "Did I ever tell you that you were the most beautiful woman in Illinois?" He dipped down to nuzzle the side of her neck.
