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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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Subject: Heatwave in the City Chapter 7 This is a work of fiction. Everybody in it is entirely my own creation. Don’t even think of suing me for putting you in a story, because I haven’t. If you happen to be resident in one of the places mentioned, or to belong to any of the institutions mentioned, don’t even think about telling me I haven’t portrayed them accurately. Work of fiction. The name of the institution only occurs because it is common knowledge so I couldn’t get away with pretending it was otherwise. If I’ve borrowed your Church, school, police station, laundrette – I haven’t. I’ve merely used the name on the building because people walk past and see it every day. Work of fiction. None of the people in the story exist, so none of the things that happen in the story can have happened to them. The world, however, is the one exception to this – the world which has in it so many wonderful people that writing fiction of this sort becomes an obligation – for me; not for everybody. You’ll have found your own place in the scheme of things, and can be wonderful in your own way. This is a story of love. It isn’t a story of sex, though that might get mentioned. There is no pornography here. Some of it is cross-generational, but it isn’t about perverted love either. Some is what nowadays is termed “gay”, but the same applies. If you think you might be offended by that, the time to go and read something else is now. Still reading? Then enjoy, and remember, you don’t pay to read these stories, but it does cost Nifty money to bring them to you. Please consider donating to Nifty fty/donate.html Heatwave in the City by Jonah Chapter 7 In no time at all the boys had disappeared, whither I knew not. My boys, Jake’s boys – vanished. The scene was boyless. I might have asked Jake where they had vanished to, but I got the impression that he knew no more than I did, and cared less. He was, of course, right. The boys were perfectly capable of looking after themselves. Neil and Jake were everywhere, replenishing drinks and being very solicitous about everybody’s welfare. As always, nobody questioned the absence of alcoholic drinks. With the exception of Ben, everybody knew and loved Liam too much to do that, and Ben was too polite to raise the issue. Ben Murchisson was in his element amid friendly folks, even more so when one of my boys reappeared. Luke was in the company of Yori Ito – his agent. Now that went a long way toward explaining the disappearance of the other boys. Where Yori was, his son and his nephew were bound to be, so the boys had disappeared to wherever Garrett and Riku were. Yori shook hands with Ben and with me. “It is an honour and a pleasure,” he said. We both assured him that both of those things were ours at which, Neil having gone upstairs and Jake showing signs of following him, Yori motioned us to follow him. We settled in the TV room, where Yori said. “Jonah, your firm has plans for Luke?” The question mark is because I didn’t know if it was a question. I answered it anyway. “Yori, I am not about to exploit my own son.” “Jonah,” he replied, “you are good man. Ben Murchisson is good man, and Derek Hepworth is good man. If you three work for good of Luke it will be good. You know Luke does not want to be artist?” I nodded. “I know what he does want to do, and you can’t know how proud it makes me that he still thinks that way.” “Why?” “Because I not only love Luke, but I also admire him. He is a person that I’m glad I got to know. I could list his good qualities, even with him sitting here listening, and it wouldn’t make him big-headed. It would make him embarrassed. That’s why I’m not going to do it, but I will tell you this. His step-brothers’ real father, Vijay, was a policeman – a very good man, and a brave one. Simon still has his medal. I first met Luke on a train to Uxbridge, and I know that if Vijay were alive and had got on that train, instead of me, he would have done exactly what I did. I know that, at this moment, he would have been as proud of Luke as I am.” “I feel I must be missing something here,” said Ben. “What is it that Luke wants to do?” “He wants to be a policeman,” I said. Ben exploded. “But that trabzon escort would be a tragedy,” he exclaimed. “You can’t allow talent like that to….” “NO!” said Yori, flatly. “NOT tragedy. Only Luke can say that.” “Ben,” I said more gently. “Luke is an artist. Do you know what one of those is?” “Of course I ….” I didn’t let him finish. “Have you seen the Mona Lisa?” “Yes, I’ve been to the Louvre”. “What did you think of it?” “It’s a great work of art,” he replied. “And yet,” I pursued, “if Van Gogh were alive today you would have said that he was wasting his talents. He should have been selling computers.” “You can’t compare Luke to Van Gogh,” he pointed out. “Can I not?” I replied. “A moment ago he was too good to be a policeman, and now he is not good enough to be an artist? In fact he is good enough to be either, and the choice is his.” Yori chose this moment to clear his throat . Ben took the hint and addressed Luke directly. “Luke, your father is right,” he said. “You have the right to be whatever you choose to be and, whatever that is, Phillips-Murchisson will support you. While you’re happy to do drawings for our advertising, we’ll be happy to buy them. When you no longer are, we’ll think about doing something different.” “Does that mean,” I asked, “that Hepworth and Hepworth’s will lose your business when Luke moves on?” “Mr. Cummings,” he returned. ” When I find a firm that deals honorably with its clients, I think I’d be well advised to give them my business. That’s the way I think and, while I can’t promise that my colleagues think the same way, it’s certainly the way I’ll be encouraging them to think.” “Mr. Murchisson,” said Luke quietly, ” I want to thank you for helping me, and for helping my dad, and I want you to know that, while I can, I’ll always do my best for you.” “I know you will, son,” said Ben, “and I know why your dad will always be proud of you. So will I, whatever you decide to do. It will always be an honor to know you.” Peter and Liam burst upon the scene. To say Peter was excited wouldn’t even have scratched the surface. “Jonah, you should see Liam’s layout. He’s got a branch line as well as an oval now and it’s got a terminus like mine and the mainline’s got a yard for marshalling trains and an engine shed with a……..” “Woah, there littl’un,” I told him. “If you take a breath between sentences now and again, you’ll be easier to listen to. Now have you finished playing trains?” “Can I go and play some more?” “Of course you can, but it will be time to eat soon, so you might want to wash your hands then I’ll come and look at Liam’s layout after tea.” “Sure thing Mister Jonah,” said Liam, as both boys disapeared again. Now he’d never called me THAT before. Jake appeared and told us that the food was about to be served. He did not decieve us. Pizza, sheet cake, Jello, fruit salad – there was food a plenty. Boys appeared as if out of the ether. The TV room and the kitchen were crawling with them. Good humour abounded. Soon we were replete and retired to the TV room. Tea was served to the adults, and such of the youngsters as required it, and Jake selected his DVD for the evening. I had not seen “Mary Poppins Returns”, but looked forward to the evening’s entertainment. I knew the boys had enjoyed the exploits of Dick van Dyke and Julie Andrews, filmed many decades ago, so the new movie should be a hit – and so it was. I couldn’t imagine anybody whistling “The Lovely London Sky” or “Can you imagine that?”, but they would certainly be tripping a little light fantastic about the place for a day or two. There were plentiful reminders of the old film and the boys spotted most of them. Of course, many of the boys present were orphans, so the fact that the children’s mother had died recently struck a chord. Not all the boys lasted till the end of the film. Christopher had fallen asleep on Simon’s lap long before the end, and Peter succumbed, unless he was pretending, wrapped around Liam. Riku had got very cosy next to Luke, but I couldn’t see him getting anywhere with that. I think most of the adults were engrossed in the film, so not much notice was taken of what the boys were doing. Liam tunalı escort had pulled off his socks, but a look from Jake was enough to discourage him from going further. Ning had curled up next to Liam and pulled his own socks off too. The appearance of an elderly Dick van Dyke and Angela Lansbury announced that the end was nigh and the sleepers began to awake. The final credits rolled and goodnights were said. The guests began to depart. Jake volunteered to walk Mrs. Plover and Christopher home. Ben set out for his home in Montague, and the Itos for their home in Ashfield. Neil was running Peter home. Kori prepared hot cocoa for those who were staying. Showers were taken and everybody readied themselves for bed. It occurred to me that if, as usual, I shared Jake’s bed, Luke would certainly come with me. Given that Liam and Ning would very likely accompany Jake, it would be useful if the other three stayed in their own room. I pointed this out to Simon, who said that it was not really up to him, but he’d try. I figured that was probably the best that I could expect. Goodnights were said, and eyes were closed. It was good to be here. It felt right. I awakened on Sunday Morning to find myself snuggled up with Peter, Pleasant as that was, it was a puzzlement. Ning was the only other child to be seen, clinging to Jake. Luke had vanished, and the presence of Peter suggested that others had been and gone too. While I slept the night away, others had obviously been less somnulent. I crept out of the bed and performed my morning ablutions. I proceeded to the kitchen, but was forced to flatten myself against the wall as four naked boys thundered past in the opposite direction. Kori reappeared briefly to tell me that the kettle had recently boiled. I walked to the kitchen, then to the mudroom, and surveyed the pile of discarded clothing on the floor. I decided against doing anything about that. The boys could sort it after breakfast. I recalled that some of the boys had been prone to mysterious, matutinal activities on our last visit. These, I later discovered, were to do with horses. I also recalled that Peter had never been involved in these. It has never been known for Peter to be involved in matutinal activity of any kind – the one exception being where railways are involved. Life, for Peter, begins at 9am, or later, if possible. On our previous visit I had never become involved in whatever the boys got up to in the early hours, but I couldn’t help agreeing with the boys that, if you are going to muck out stables and exercise horses, the time to shower is after – not before. I made myself a cup of tea and sat peacefully supping. The peace lasted approximately ten minutes, but it was peace, and I saw that it was good. At the end of that time four boys appeared and began to do things. Kori was in charge – of that there could be no doubt. Even Jake, when he appeared, dressed in his Sunday best, as they all were, tended not to gainsay Kori, unless it was absolutely necessary. A clean and spotless Ning accompanied Jake, and of Peter there was – surprise, surprise – no sign. This was the time of day when we missed Rob. Rob always knew how to get Peter out of bed with no fuss, but the rest of us had never mastered the art. Eventually, as we finished breakfast, a small boy appeared, clad in boxers and a T shirt. “Breakfast,” I told him, “and that right quickly. Then you can get ready for Church.” I didn’t need to elaborate on that further. Peter liked his bed, but it would have been wrong to call him lethargic. Once up, he was as energetic and as conscientious as the best. We had been to Ashfield Baptist Church before, and were known there, but we were joined by somebody we had not expected to see. Ning Chunhua, mother of Ning, arrived and sat, smiling, next to her son. Her smile never wavered throughout the service. Though she could read the words of the hymns, her English was not good, so I wondered how much she understood of what she was singing. The words of the readings and the sermon probably meant nothing to her, but the word that she needed to hear – her smile said that she was hearing that loud and clear. “Welcome to tunceli escort God’s love for you”. Some people don’t hear that in churches. Some Churches are not good at letting them. They get bogged down in preoccupations of their own, then try to tell people what they think is important, instead of what God thinks is important. No matter. Ning Chunhua had found God’s love for her, not through the people in that Church, but through the God in it. Jake was once more acting as minibus driver, since he’d borrowed the minibus, so he wasn’t around for coffee and biscuits afterwards, His last job was to run Mrs. Plover and Christopher home, after surgically detaching the latter from Simon. Then he took us all back to the house, including Mrs. Ning and her son. Jake and Kori set about preparing a meal for us while Mrs Ning accompanied the children upstairs. “She loves to do that,” said Jake, “after so long not being able to.” “How’s that?” I asked. “She’s stopped living in fear,” he said. “In South Dakota, that a***hole of a brother of hers beat up on her and Ning. She wasn’t frightened for herself, but for Ning. She ran away, and hid herself in Ashfield, but has never felt safe. She’s always been worried that he would somehow find her. That’s why she was always glad to send Ning with me, whenever she got the opportunity. It got him out of danger for a while.” “But what happened to her brother?” I queried. “Well he was tried in Northampton for aggravated assault, and sentenced to three years penal servitude. He won’t serve that though, because he was immediately extradited to South Dakota, on murder one. He’s on death row now, so far as we know. They won’t tell us when it’s carried out, unless it’s on the news, and nobody here wants to know anyway. As far as Mrs. Ning’s concerned, he’s dead already. She started going to Church, because she looked on the pastor and me as her friends. Well so we are, but I think she’s found another friend there now.” “Ready,” said Kori, deliberately, I couldn’t help suspecting, bringing that conversation to a close. “Go get the others then,” said Jake. “What’s got into him?” I couldn’t help asking, as soon as Kori had left the room. “I think the conversation was getting too close to home for him,” said Jake. “Kori’s mother died a year or so back. He didn’t know she was dying. He thought all her attempts to find someone to look after him when she was gone, were signs that she didn’t love him. I think he still finds it hard to forgive himself for misjudging her, but of course, we were all guilty of the same thing with Mrs Ning. She wasn’t trying to get rid of Ning – she was protecting him.” We were suddenly innundated with hungry people. Kori and Jake began to serve up roast beef, with Yorkshire pud, potatoes, carrots and peas, and rich gravy. I couldn’t help suspecting that the family wouldn’t normally eat like this on a Sunday – it looked so English, only bigger. This was America – it had to be bigger. “What we doing this afternoon Jake?” Kori asked between mouthfuls. “Zoar,” said Jake, as nearly as I could tell, his mouth being full at that moment. “Wou’re goon da goon da zaffores, run da doolldries.” “Nope, try again,” said Kori, helpfully. Jake chewed a bit more, then swallowed, after which he patiently repeated, “We’re going to Zoar outdoor activities. We’re booked on the zipwires through the tall trees. We’ve been before and everybody enjoyed it.” It’s odd how it’s possible to make studied patience sound insulting. Of course the implication was that it was our fault that we couldn’t understand what he had said with his mouth full. In those circumstances patience is NOT a virtue. None-the-less, on past experience, I was sure that we could look forward to an exciting afternoon. TO BE CONTINUED If you’ve enjoyed this story, you’ll probably enjoy other stories in this series by the same author. This is the latest in a series that includes “A letter from America”, “Stranger on a train,” “Marooned”, “the Boston Tea Party”, “Immigrant,” and “A Cantabrian Operetta”, all the foregoing are on Nifty’s Adult/Youth site. “The Pen Pals” is on Young Friends. You might also like “A Neglected Boy”, by Jacob Lion, also on Adult/Youth. You can find links to all these stories, as well as some illustrations on Jacob Lion’s website bly/jonah-stories.html My thanks go to Jacob for providing this facility as well as for his kind and generous support without which I would never have written any of them.
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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32