The Fox in the Hen House

Chapter 4

“Knock, knock!” Alex called out as he and Glen entered the front door of Brian’s end of the conjoined cottages.

“Kitchen,” Brian replied.  He was at the stove flipping pancakes and closely monitoring turkey sausage patties.  “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Famished but are you sure you have enough?” Glen asked as he wheeled himself around to settle near the table.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Glen.  Daddy says that Dada cooks enough to feed an army!” Bree stated. 

She was sitting at the counter watching her father man the stove.  Brian turned, grabbed the mixing spoon from the pancake batter and lightly tapped the business end of the spoon on the tip of Bree’s nose.  Bree giggled with delight as she wiped off the batter.

“Silly Dada!” 

The men smiled at their antics.

“Where is everyone?” Alex asked.  The only ones at the kitchen table were John and Peter.  The school year was winding down so Peter had several days off for finals.

“Debbie and Carl were still asleep when John came to get me,” Peter said hesitantly.

“Patrick had a test today so Bobby dropped him off at school on his way to the office,” John added.

“I don’t have any tests today!” Bree added with a smile.

“And your Daddy?” Glen asked Bree.

“Justin had some business at the Gallery so he left early for the Pitts,” Brian explained as he turned off the stove then grabbed the platters of pancakes and sausage to bring to the table.  John helped with the coffee, tea, and fresh blueberries for the pancakes.

“Eat up, people,” Brian commanded.

“So what’s the plan?” Alex asked as John poured him a mugful of fresh coffee.

“How high is the wheel base of your van?” John asked.

“Almost as high as your Navigator, why?” Alex replied.

“You follow me to your new cottage.  Drive to the end of our driveway then follow us through the meadow.  The soil is firm and the grass isn’t too high,” John explained.

“Sounds like a plan to me!” Glen stated.  “I thought the driveway would be dry by now?”

“It is but I just want to make sure.  I’ll test it with my truck and then it’ll be all yours.  The circular drive has been handling our trucks so I know it’s wide enough and strong enough to handle your van,” John went on.  “Peter and I will go through the cottage with you.  As I inspect the work, Peter will take notes.  He’ll also carry a book of paint colors and wallpaper samples.  When we’re done going through the cottage we can sit in your new kitchen and discuss any changes you may want to make.”

Alex and Glen stared at John for a moment.  They had only met John the enthusiastic builder and not John the businessman.  Peter wasn’t quite sure what he had gotten himself into.  Brian and Bree just smiled.

“Um, I have a question,” Peter said with hesitation.  He caught himself about to raise his hand as if he was in school.  Alex and Glen looked at the boy as John nodded.  “It’s a brand new house, how can we sit in the kitchen without furniture?”

Alex and Glen shifted their gaze to John.  Brian hid a snicker.  The boy was sharp.

“Good question.  My crew took the construction of this cottage as a challenge.  We designed everything on one level; the cabinets are wheelchair accessible, and we installed a breakfast nook with a built in bench on one side of the table and room for the wheelchair on the other.  So we’ll have a place to sit.”

Alex and Glen exchanged a look.

“Coffee?” Brian asked as he held up the carafe with a smirk on his face.

*****

John drove the Navigator toward the latest cottage to join the ranks of the homes on the lane.  In his truck sat Bree, Brian and Peter.  They were closely followed by Alex and Glen in their specially outfitted van.  When they approached the circular drive, John purposefully drove onto the driveway then slowly led Alex and Glen around the cottage.  When they stopped, the van was situated by the front door.

“You did that on purpose,” Peter commented from the passenger seat next to John.

“Yes, I did,” John confirmed.

“Why?”

“For several reasons,” John began.

“Like a good businessman, he wanted to show his clients the finished product starting with the unusual and yet stylish driveway,” said Brian the businessman.

“And because with the sun hitting the cottage at this angle, it’s very pretty,” supplied Bree the budding artist and advertising agent.

“You did it for the drama?” Peter asked.  He was a little confused.  He thought a building was just a building.

“You’ll learn that in some businesses, a little drama goes a long way,” John replied.

“Hey!  Are you people going to sit there all morning?  Where’s the key to this joint,” Glen shouted as his lift deposited him and his chair onto the pavement.  Alex just stood there shaking his head.

“Please forgive him, it appears he left his manners back in Pittsburgh,” Alex said making an attempt at an apology.

“I have the key right here but you really don’t need it,” John said as he led the procession to the front door.  “It’s open,” John said as he turned the knob on the door then gave it a little push.  The door swung open to reveal a spacious entryway that led to the main living room.

“Don’t you people ever have to lock your doors around here?” Glen grumbled as he wheeled himself in.

At that moment Beau and his pack appeared at the front door happily barking and yipping, asking permission to enter the new home that they would guard.

Glen turned his chair around and stared at the “wolves.”  “I guess not,” he said answering his own question.  He looked down at his lap for a moment then sighed.  “I suppose I should be formally introduced before we go on with the tour,” Glen conceded. 

Peter had yet to meet Beau and his pack.  Not ever having a pet growing up, he stood well back and watched with large eyes.

“Just hold out your hand and let them take a good sniff,” John said.  Glen slowly extended his hand.  “Beau, come and meet our new neighbors,” John told the dog.

Without hesitation Beau walked up to Glen.  Brian could swear that Beau puffed himself up to his full height and while looking friendly, he certainly appeared to be able to take down a bear.  Beau took a good sniff then examined Glen’s chair.  He stood in front of Glen seemingly in contemplation.

“Is he trying to decide if I’d make a tasty snack?” Glen asked.

“I honestly don’t know what he’s doing,” John said.  “He’s never met anyone that used wheels to get around.”

“Hmm.  So I’m a bit of a puzzle to him?” Glen wondered.

“You’re always a bit of a puzzle,” Alex murmured. 

Bree heard him and giggled then she turned to the large dog.  “Beau, say hello to Mr. Glen,” she said as she threw her arms around Beau’s neck.  The large dog took the embrace with grace and gave the petite girl a lick on her cheek. 

Beau sat directly in front of Glen.  He lifted one great paw then gently placed it in Glen’s outstretched hand.  Glen took in a deep gulp of air as he realized the power in that paw and in Beau.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Beau,” Glen said bravely.  “Would you introduce me to your pack?”  John made a couple of clicks with his tongue.  Lady Lucie walked up to Glen.

“You’re beautiful,” Glen commented as he extended his hand toward the golden shepherd.  She took a good sniff then gently laid her head in Glen’s lap.  He couldn’t help petting the soft fur.  “Oh my god, I’ve never been this close to a wolf before.”

“Oh Mr. Glen, she’s a dog,” Bree explained.  But she knew that most people thought Beau and his family were wolves.

John made another click and in trotted Little Beau.  He had grown up strong and just as powerful as his sire and perhaps just a little taller.  But Little Beau knew who the boss of the lane was.

Little Beau made a soft whine and pleaded with large dark eyes.  Glen smiled.  “Well, come here,” Glen beckoned.  Little Beau barreled his way through the crowd then unceremoniously lifted himself on his hind legs, placing his front paws on each shoulder then giving Glen’s face a good washing.  Everyone laughed as Glen sputtered under Little Beau’s ministrations.

“I guess that’s that,” Alex said.  “John, while Glen gets acquainted with his new friend, would you mind giving me the tour?”

“Not at all,” John said with a chuckle as he led them to the airy living room.  The far wall held the main feature of the room, a large fireplace with large bookcases on each side.

“Hey, are you all going to leave me alone with this beast?” Glen shouted as Little Beau continued to welcome his new neighbor in the only manner he knew how.  Everyone laughed at Glen’s dilemma then after a few moments, Glen laughed heartily as well.  Alex looked over at his spouse and smiled.  Glen was relaxed and happy; it melted Alex’s heart.

“This is beautiful,” Alex stated as he turned his attention back to the fireplace and ran his hand across one of the shelves.  They were stained wood then varnished to a high gloss finish that brought out the hues of the grain.  “I don’t think we’ll change anything about the fireplace.  It’s perfect.  Don’t you agree, Glen?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, sure.  Get down, you wolf,” Glen grumbled as he tried to push the dog off.  “I could use a little help here!”

“I think you’re doing just fine all on your own,” Alex casually called out.  He then turned his attention back to the task at hand.  “I know we said we liked the whitewash but now that I see this room with all this light coming in, the white is too bright.  Could we tone it down a bit?”

“Of course,” John said as he indicated to Peter to join them.  Peter circumvented the dogs, who took up a large portion of the entryway, to join Alex and John.  He had his notebook and the samples.  He handed the paint samples to Alex.

While Alex was talking shop with John, Brian and Bree took a look at the sun room.  They both agreed that some easy to care for greenery was needed to bring a bit of nature inside.  They left by the sun room door to check on the window boxes.  As they continued to talk plants, Glen extricated himself from Little Beau to join the tour.

“I’m going to need a shower,” Glen muttered as he wiped his face with his t-shirt.  “Yuck, I smell like a dog.  Dog germs!”

“Quit bitching, you sound like Lucy from Peanuts,” Alex admonished.

“Yeah, well you’re not the one who got slobbered.  And I agree to toning down the white.  Even with curtains this room will be bright.  I have no intentions of obscuring that view with heavy drapes,” Glen commented.

Peter was amazed that Glen could even follow the conversation let alone have the same opinion as his partner.  He never met anyone so in tune with another person before.  He hadn’t known the people of the lane for very long but he knew that John and Bobby, and Brian and Justin, were the same.  Debbie and Carl were almost the same even when their opinions often differed and very loudly, but they respected each other.  What little Peter remembered of his mother, she and his father were always at odds.  Peter never saw any displays of love.

“Bathroom,” Glen announced.  John and Alex smirked.  “Oh ha ha, no I don’t have to go.  I want to see it.”

“Only yanking your chain, dear,” Alex teased.

Once again John led the guys to show off his handiwork.

 “Wow!” both Alex and Glen exclaimed.  The bathroom had a walk in shower with a specially fitted door and rubberized lip on the floor that allowed the chair to easily roll in but not let water out.  There was a built in shower bench that Glen could transfer to.

“Try it out,” John urged.  Glen looked at Alex who merely shrugged his shoulders. 

Peter was about to ask how Glen could get from his wheelchair and onto the bench.  But by the time he worked up the courage to ask the question, Glen had already transferred himself onto the bench all by himself.

“Can he redo the bathroom in our apartment?” Glen asked Alex. 

Alex chuckled.  “Ask him.”

“John, can you…?” 

John laughed.  “Of course.  I have a crew in the city that’s at your disposal,” John said.  “As you can see there are two showerheads, each with a detachable handheld shower.”  As the boys were oooing and ahhing about the bathroom, John kept up his running commentary.  “We considered making this an ensuite bathroom but the major plumbing and water tank is on this side of the cottage.  The mud room and laundry room are on the other side of this wall.  The kitchen has a separate and smaller tank,” John explained.

“Besides, not many people are comfortable walking through someone’s bedroom to get to the bathroom,” Brian interjected as he walked into the huge room.  “This reminds me of the loft,” he remarked as he looked around.

“Actually I did incorporate many of its features,” John admitted with a slight blush.  Brian arched a brow.  John cleared his throat before he said, “Are you ready to see the bedroom?”  Glen transferred himself back to his chair and was out the door in a flash.

“Oh didn’t I mention, Glen fancies himself the Mario Andretti of the self-propelled,” Alex snarked.

“I heard that!” Glen shouted from the bedroom.  The only furniture in the room was a huge built in platform bed.  Brian glared at John who smirked back with a shrug.

“Whoa,” the boys once again said in unison.

“Is there a mattress?”  Glen asked as he rolled toward the bed.  “There is, how convenient.”  A brand new mattress was on the bed still wrapped in plastic.

“I gave John your specifications,” Alex stated with a wink.

“Uh huh,” Glen murmured as he narrowed his eyes.

“Try it out,” John suggested as Alex roamed the room and peeked into the walk-in closet.  “We can set you up with furniture.  I have catalogs back at the cottage.”

“Mmm,” both men mumbled.

Peter’s eyes nearly bugged out as he watched Glen transfer from his chair to the bed.  He tried not to stare but he noticed the muscles on Glen’s upper body.  

“Kitchen?” Alex said as he left the room.  John and Brian followed leaving Peter and Glen alone.

“You can ask,” Glen said.

“What?”

“You can ask me about my accident or how I exercise.  You can ask me anything.”

“I, uh...”

“Or you can wait until you know me better.  Alex and I are spending the summer here so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Um, okay.  Thanks,” Peter said with a blush to his cheeks.

Glen wheeled himself out of the room before he embarrassed the boy more.

About an hour later they were all back at the conjoined cottage enjoying coffee and tea, and perusing catalogs.  Meanwhile down the lane, Michael was stomping his way into Debbie’s cottage.

*****

"Maw!" Michael screeched as he slammed the front door of the thatched cottage behind him.  "Maw!" he repeated.

"What the fuck?" Debbie sputtered, almost spewing her mouthful of coffee.  She had been sitting at the kitchen table enjoying a late morning cup of coffee.  "What the fuck are you screaming about?"  she demanded to know, when she was finally able to swallow her coffee.

"I'm screaming about you and that ... that ... that stupid kid that you claim is yours," Michael yelled.

"He's not a stupid kid," Debbie replied trying to stay calm and bring things back to normal.  "And his name is Peter and I don't claim him.  I'm merely fostering him."

"Without consulting me!"

"I don't have to consult you about everything I do, Michael.  I may not look like I am of age, but I am," Debbie stated sitting up straight and toying with her hair, while trying not to smirk at her own joke.

"I'm your son, Maw, not that stupid little shit!  Me.  I'm your son in case you've forgotten."

"Of course you're my son, and I haven't forgotten, even when you're acting like a complete asshole.  You have to fucking stop calling Peter stupid."

"I'll call him whatever I want, until you get rid of him."

"Then you better leave, Michael, because I'm not getting rid of Peter."

"So ... what?  You'll get rid of me instead?" Michael asked, his eyes big with incredulity.

"I don't want to get rid of either of you," Debbie said gently, "so don't ask me to choose."

"Are you saying you would choose that kid over your own son?"

"I'm saying that I won't fucking choose at all.  Grow up, Michael."

"I am a grown up.  Too bad you're not."  Michael turned on his heel and stomped out of the house slamming the door definitively behind him.

"Michael!  Michael, you come back here," Debbie commanded, but it was too late.  Michael was gone.

Debbie shook her head.  How had she created such a rigid and unforgiving son?  Most of the time her boy was a sweet, gentle man.  And then he turned into the argumentative, judgmental ass who just left.

She picked up her phone and hit #1 on the speed dial.

"What's up, babe?" Carl asked when he answered.

"Can you come home?  I need you?"

Carl frowned, but he didn't question his wife.  He made his excuses to Frank Thompson, his pool partner, and headed home.  Debbie didn't often ask for help, but when she did it had to be something important.

*****

Michael stomped into the log cabin and threw himself down on the sofa in the living room.  He crossed his arms on his chest and stared at the window across the room.  His world really was falling apart.  He couldn't believe what was happening.  He had come to the lane hoping to spend the whole summer with his husband and his best friend, having a calm and relaxing time.  What the hell had happened in the last few months?  Everything had changed.  And there was nothing good about any of the changes.

"Michael?" Ben said as he came down the stairs.  "I thought I heard the door close."  He got a look at his husband's face as he arrived at the bottom of the steps.  He shook his head, trying to quash the sudden urge to flee back to Pittsburgh.  He drew in a deep breath.  "What happened?" he finally asked.

Michael didn't even acknowledge that he had been spoke to.  He continued to stare out the window, his face clearly reflecting the anger and frustration that he was feeling.

"I take it that your visit with Debbie didn't go well," Ben ventured to say.

"Well!  It certainly didn't go well.  It was a fucking disaster.  She basically told me that she would choose that stupid little twit she's adopted ... over me!  Over her own son!"

"Michael, are those your words or hers?" Ben asked.  He could almost imagine the confrontation between the two.  It would be his husband who would be giving the ultimatums.

"Sure, stick up for her!  Why should I expect anything else?  Everyone on this lane has lost their fucking mind.  I feel like a total outsider."

"You're not an outsider," Ben said gently. 

He sat down on the sofa beside Michael and tried to put his arm around Michael's shoulders to comfort him.  Michael was having none of it.  He shook off Ben's hand and got up.  He began pacing back and forth in front of his husband.

"How can this be happening?" Michael muttered to no one in particular.  "What have I done to deserve this?  Everyone's treating me like I'm not important.  I have no say in anything - even in the most important things - like adopting a fucking child."

"Debbie isn't adopting Peter," Ben reminded his husband.  "She's fostering him for a few years.  There's a big difference."

"Well I don't see the difference.  It's like having a brother sprung on me, a brother that I never knew existed.  How can she do that?"

"Debbie isn't asking you to be part of Peter's life, Michael.  She and Carl are merely helping the young man."

"Fuck!" Michael yelled.  "Even you won't support me.  I have to get out of here."

Michael turned towards the front door of the cabin and headed for it as quickly as his feet could move without running.

"Michael, wait," Ben said standing up.

"Leave me the fuck alone.  I don't want to talk to any of you."

Michael gave the door to their cabin a resounding slam before hoofing it up the lane as fast as he could walk.  'Nobody better follow me or talk to me," he thought to himself.  If they did there would be hell to pay.

Ben stepped out onto the porch to see where Michael was going.  He watched his husband storm along the lane.  He debated following him, but it didn't seem like that would accomplish much, other than making Michael even madder.  Ben went back into the house.  He had a good book that he wanted to read.

*****

When Carl arrived home, he found Debbie sitting at the kitchen table.  She hadn't moved since she called him.

"Debbie," Carl said gently as he approached her.

She stood up and threw herself into his arms.

"Debbie, honey, what the hell happened?" Carl asked as he held her.

"It ... It's Michael," Debbie managed to choke out.  She was rather unsuccessfully trying to keep from weeping hysterically.  She couldn't remember a time when she had been so hurt.  Her son's words had cut to the quick.

"What did Michael do?"

Debbie drew a breath and wiped her eyes.  She thought maybe she could be calm enough to tell Carl all about it.  "Let's sit down she said.  Taking another long breath, she began, "Michael came storming in here.  He said I had no right to take on that 'stupid kid' as he called Peter.  He as much as told me that I had to choose between him or Peter."

"What does this have to do with him anyway?" Carl asked.

"I told him that it didn't have anything to do with him, but he wouldn't see reason."

Carl reached across the table and took Debbie's hand, rubbing the back of it gently.  "He does get his tighty whiteys all twisted, doesn't he?"

"He was really freaked out, and he yelled and slammed the door.  I've never seen him this upset.  And I have seen him pretty upset over the years."

"Maybe he'll calm down and come to his senses."

Debbie shook her head.  "I don't think that's fucking likely."

"Want me to beat him up for you?" Carl asked with a crooked smile.

Debbie had to return the smile.  "Yes," she said.

"Good, I'll get my boxing gloves," Carl replied starting to stand up.

Debbie tugged his hand making him sit back down.  "Don't be silly.  You don't even own boxing gloves."

"I could get some."

Debbie chuckled.  "I'd sell tickets for that fight, but it's not going to happen."

"I know, but the concept did help to cheer you up."

"It did.  That's why I called you."

"And that's why I came."

"Thank you for coming home so fast," Debbie said rubbing Carl's arm as they comforted each other.

"Any time, babe, any time."

*****

Michael sat down hard on the big thinking rock by the stream.  "Ow," he said as he rubbed his butt to relieve the pain.  "I can't even sit down on a rock properly.  No wonder everyone cuts me out of everything.  I'm pathetic."  He shook his head and stared at the stream.

Bree watched from the edge of the clearing.  She had seen her Uncle Michael go charging by while she was drawing in the sun porch.  She had quickly put her pencils away and followed him, worried by the thunderclouds that seemed to be swirling around him.

She waited as the anger seemed to be seeping away from her uncle.  He seemed more sad now than ready to kill someone.  Bree wondered if she should say something.  All he could do would be to tell her to get lost, and she would, if that's what he really wanted.

"Uncle Michael?" she said stepping into the clearing and hoping not to get yelled at.

"Go away," Michael snapped without looking around.

"Are you okay?"

"Go away," Michael repeated, but there wasn't much conviction in his voice.

"I will as soon as you tell me what's wrong."

"Bree..."

"That's me."

"I guess I did something bad."

"What?" Bree asked.  She had walked closer and now planted her hind end on the rock beside Michael.

"I yelled at Maw."

"You shouldn't yell at your mother."

"I know," Michael sighed, "but I was so angry."

"Angry about what?"

"She took in that kid without even telling me."

"You mean Peter?  He's only been here a little while.  Why did that make you angry?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I bet I can figure it out."

"You can, huh?"

"Yep.  You were hurt she didn't talk to you about it."

Michael turned and looked at her.  How had she figured it out so fast.  "Yeah," he conceded.

"She thought she was doing the right thing," Bree said knowledgeably.  "Peter needs help."

"I guess so, but..."

"But what?"

"It's like nobody tells me anything.  Your dad didn't tell me he was building a cottage for those ... guys."

"My Dada doesn't have to tell everyone everything.  You haven't been here for ages, Uncle Michael.  Nobody thought you would care."

Michael studied the girl.  She was really growing up, and she was awfully smart, as she had just shown.  "I suppose that's true."

"Nobody meant to hurt your feelings. so I hope you won't be upset anymore."  She waited hoping Michael would agree with her.  When he said nothing, she finally said, "Do you feel better?"

"A little ... maybe."

"Good.  I'll leave you alone now."  Bree slid off the rock and started across the clearing.  She hoped she had been of help to her uncle.  He certainly seemed less upset than he was when she had found him.

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