Windswept Farm - 1:00 a.m.

Justin tossed and turned in his bed, finding sleep very elusive.  He had lain down about two hours earlier, still in his jeans and tee-shirt, but he hadn't really obtained any rest; his thoughts were focused too much on a certain older boy next door, and what Brian had encountered when he had gone home.  Had his uncle been furious with him for taking up the same hobby that had gotten his own son killed?  Had he forbidden him to drive the sulky ever again, or maybe even grounded him? Although, at 19 Brian wasn't a minor any more, and with the money he would soon be inheriting from his deceased uncle, he really didn't have to even stay with them any longer if he didn't want to. That thought filled Justin with extreme trepidation.  He knew Brian really cared for him; that he even loved him.  And he recalled how the other boy has reassured him that he had no intention of going anywhere; due in large part to his feelings for HIM.  But he also knew Brian was a restless, free spirit, and while he had become somewhat accustomed to living more of a tranquil, slower paced-life here in Kentucky, he also knew from watching Brian perform around the track that he craved more excitement in his life. And his lover had found that - at least temporarily - through his sulky driving.  There was no doubt that he had an innate talent for the sport, and that he delighted in being in the driver's seat. Not to mention that he and True Blue - who shared the same fondness for excitement and speed - had definitely bonded.  He had never seen anyone earn the proud stallion's trust more quickly than Brian had - with the exception of Dale.  What would happen, then, if Brian's uncle disallowed him the chance to keep racing?  Because as much as Will Walker might want to control what his nephew did and where he went, he really had no control over whether or not Brian chose to remain here - or go somewhere more in keeping with his dreams and goals. And now he had the financial means to do whatever he wanted.  And when he left to go to Vanderbilt next year, what would Brian do? Would he leave then?  He sighed in melancholy, the clear hoot-hoot-hoot of an owl somewhere nearby piercing the air.

A different sound just then made his eyes jerk open wide, and he couldn't help smiling in relief. He recognized it instantly; it was the sound of pebbles skittering on the upper pane of his open window.  He sat up in bed, just as a shoe came whizzing by his feet.  Rolling his eyes with a grin, he slid off the bed and grabbed the sneaker-turned-missile, walking over to the window to peer down below, his hands bracing his upper body as he leaned over the wooden window sill.  Through the partial moonlight, he could make out the other boy clearly, and his heart involuntarily skipped a beat. 

"You lost something," Justin stage-whispered to him with a smile, seeing Brian's teeth gleam as he smiled back at him. 

"So come down here and give it back to me," was the saucy reply that made Justin tingle in anticipation.  Nodding, he turned and quickly headed over to the bedroom door, the shoe clutched in his hand as he slipped his feet hurriedly into his own shoes.  Taking great pains to not awaken either his parents or Jared - who was now sleeping back in his old room, having earned it after helping to save his life earlier - he crept down the wooden stairs, trying not to land on any of the well-known steps that always creaked.  As soon as he reached the kitchen below and carefully opened the exterior and screen doors to exit, he practically flew down the steps, dropping the shoe at Brian's feet as he was swept up into his arms.  Their bodies melded tightly as one while they kissed, their passion quickly flaring as they pressed their lips firmly together. 

When they finally broke off their kiss to catch their breaths, neither boy found that they wanted to release their hold on each other, but Justin couldn't wait to ask, "What happened?  How did it go?" 

Brian smiled.  "A lot better than I thought it would," he told him, his left hand coming up to gently sweep some misbehaving hair out of his companion's eyes.  "Would you believe that Uncle Will was actually more agreeable about my racing than Aunt Sarah?"

Justin's eyes widened in surprise.  "He was?" 

Brian nodded.  "Yeah. I don't think either one of them are that happy about it," he amended.  "But my uncle thinks that my racing would sort of be a tribute to my cousin.  A kind of ‘you beat us down, but you won't keep us down' type of thing.  They're both worried about me getting hurt...but they won't stop me from doing it, though." 

Justin could see a fire in Brian's eyes then as he talked about his sulky driving; he instantly recognized it as the same sort of expression he - and Dale before him - used to have whenever THEY talked about the emotions they experienced as they raced, although his real passion lay with his art, not with the exhilaration of winning against other drivers.  "I'm glad," he told him as Brian pulled him a little closer so their bodies were touching even more, causing Justin's body to tingle.  He somehow knew that no matter how long they knew each other, Brian would always cause such reactions from him, but he didn't mind it a bit.  "I admit I'm a little surprised...but I'm glad they both understand." He smiled.  "You will never be the kind of person to shy away from anything, Brian.  That's one of the things that I love about you." 

Brian smiled back at him as his long index finger lightly traced Justin's lower lip almost reverently.  "I like that word coming from your lips.  Love," he clarified, as Justin blushed at him.  He grinned.  "I think I'd like to see what other sounds I can make come out of that mouth." 

Justin's face warmed even more at the tone of Brian's voice.  "You would, would you?" he whispered back at him. 

Brian nodded as he broke off their embrace to grasp his lover's wrist; even in the relative coolness of the night air, Justin felt like his skin was on fire merely by his touch.  "Yeah...I think I'm in the mood for a little skinny dipping."

Justin laughed softly, trying hard not to wake up either his parents or his brother, although he knew from past experience that when Jared slept, it was more like a sleep of the dead, and his parents' bedroom window, thankfully, was closed at the moment.  "Brian, it's too cold out here tonight to go skinny dipping."

Brian used his grasp of Justin's wrist to pull him closer and give him a brief kiss on the lips.  'll warm you up, don't worry," he huskily assured him as he stared into his eyes.  He cupped Justin's face in his hands and stared at him intently.

Justin thought his face couldn't have turned any redder than it already was, but he found out he was wrong.  He shivered then, but not because of the relative coolness of the clear, crisp, night air.  He nodded, unable to resist the temptation.  "Okay," he whispered with a smile.  "I'll make sure you warm up, too, then," he added as Brian laughed in amusement.

"I'm counting on it," he told him. Pecking him again briefly on the lips, he slid his arm around Justin's shoulders as the two of them headed off toward the swimming hole, neither of them returning to their respective beds until just before sunrise and the first rooster's crow.

The Next Morning...

Sarah's eyes slowly fluttered open at the first sign of daylight, just like they always did. She had always been the one to get up before her husband, her responsibilities in providing a warm, nourishing breakfast for him fueling her need to rise early.  She always rose at the same time each day, also, whether she needed to or not; so much so that she never had any need for an alarm clock.  And just like she did every day, she slowly turned her head, expecting to see Will still sound asleep, since he normally woke up about the time the coffee was brewing thirty minutes later.

But this morning there was no sign of him; only the crumpled sheet and depression on the pillow where his head had rested during the night.  She frowned.  "Will?" she called out. But the room was still and silent, and no sound of streaming water from the shower in the adjacent bathroom could be heard.  Her brow furrowing now in concern, she rose from the bed, grabbing her flannel robe from over the back of the chair nearby and slipping it on, tying it casually around her slim body as she slid her feet into her slippers before heading toward the open door and down the hallway to the stairs.

A few minutes of searching for her husband, both in the house and the barn, turned up no sign of him, adding to her concern.  Today would be difficult enough, she knew, without any needed stress, for today was their son's birthday, and she knew it would be just like all the other birthdays since Dale had died. It would be both a day to be celebrated as well as a day to mourn.  She knew that this day was always extremely hard on her husband; even more so than her, she felt.  So on this day, she always made sure to pay just a little extra attention to him to help him get through what was one of the most difficult days of the year for both of them.

By this time, she had gotten dressed in a simple, long-sleeved, cotton blouse and a pair of casual pants, still with no idea of where Will could have gone.  As she stood just inside the open door of the barn, she tried to figure out the puzzle of his husband's disappearance. His truck was still parked where he always parked it by the back fence gate, so it was obvious he had not gone into town, or drove out into the fields to check on any breaks in their fence, which he regularly did each month as a precaution.  He wasn't in the chicken coop, the storage barn out back, or with the pigs. And she had checked - Brian was still in his bed, sound asleep.  He was due to be awakened soon, though; perhaps she should go up and do that so he could help search for Will.  "William Walker, where are you?" she asked softly, her hands on her hips in puzzlement.

Just then, she heard Solomon barking off in the distance, and then the sound of what seemed to be a motor of some type.  Peering around the interior of the barn, she noticed for the first time that their tractor was missing - the one that Brian had worked on earlier in the summer - and she sighed in relief.  Will must have taken it out for some reason.  But why?  All the crop work had been done for the week, as far as she knew, and Brian had cut the grass near the house and the fields yesterday.  So what could he be doing? 

"Only one way to find out," she murmured with determination, walking out of the barn and heading in the direction of the sound.

As she got closer, she couldn't believe where the sound had originated. She could clearly see their old tractor parked nearby, and Solomon joyfully trotting around the field, no doubt searching for a rabbit to terrorize.  But where her husband had wound up astounded her, because in all this time he had never once ventured anywhere near it. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she walked closer to the grassy, windswept knoll, the familiar metal fence protecting some of their most treasured loved ones. The ones who had come and gone in and out of their lives; some when it was expected, and some when they were ruthlessly taken away when it was least expected.

The old Walker family cemetery had stood in this place for centuries, ever since the first descendant in the family lineage had arrived here in Kentucky from Virginia, fresh off the boat from Ireland.  Linus Walker had staked his claim here, and had eventually found a wife to raise several children.  Some of them had fought in the Civil War on the losing side, but two of them had survived to return and live out the rest of their years on this land their father had considered sacred.  When Linus had eventually died, his wife Miriam had laid him to rest here, beside two children who had died at childbirth, and from then on every Walker who had died after them had been buried here as well...including the child whose birthday they remembered today.

Sarah noticed their push mower sitting next to the tractor, the trailer Will often used to haul supplies and brush attached; a weed cutter lay against the wooden rails of the trailer with fresh remnants of grass sticking to the bottom.  The gate surrounding the graves had been cleared of any weeds, and the grass inside the enclosure neatly cut; even without the evidence of having hauled the push mower up here, it would have been obvious the grass had just been freshly mowed by the familiar smell she inhaled; the smell that always invoked in her warm and sunny days.  Normally pleasant days filled with good memories. But today was bittersweet, to say the least, as she walked up to the gate and placed her hands on top of the cold, smooth metal, silently observing her husband kneeling in front of Dale's grave.  An impromptu bouquet of Gerbera daisies - their son's favorite flower that she planted every year around the house - was lying on top of the ground in front of the stone where her husband had placed them.

Her eyes glistened with tears as she lifted the metal latch to open the gate, Solomon dutifully following along behind her as she walked inside and headed toward their son's grave.  She noticed the weeds around the tombstone had been carefully removed.  His back to her, Will did not hear her approach as he continued to carefully polish the black marble with a cloth cut from one of his old, soft-cotton shirts.   She watched as he placed the cloth down on the bed of grass after a few seconds, and then lift his left hand to lightly trace over their son's name on the cold smoothness of the grave marker.  It was only then that he turned his head as Solomon walked up to him, and he patted the beagle on his head, noticing his wife standing there a few feet away.  "What are you doing up here, Missy?" he asked a little gruffly, suddenly feeling like someone who had been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

Uncaring of the dew still blanketing the morning grass, Sarah knelt down next to her husband, the knees of her pants quickly becoming wet.  She reached over to grasp her husband's hand as he knelt there beside her in his overalls and well-worn, plaid shirt, staring at their son's name, birthdate, and date of death.  An image of True Blue was etched above his name, a tribute to the horse who had brought such joy to him - and that had indirectly caused his death as well.  "This is the first time you've been here since..."  She left the rest of her statement unsaid; Will knew what she meant.  The only time he had been here at their son's grave was the day they had to bury him.  Will had stood there stoically that day, his lips compressed into a firm line, as their only son's casket was lowered to the ground.  He had reached down into the soft, newly-upturned earth to grab a handful and toss it onto the top of the casket before silently turning and heading back out of the cemetery.  It was the last time he had come here to visit his son's grave...until today.  He nodded in response to his wife's statement. 

"Why today, William?" she asked him softly as she peered into his worn, proud face.  It was a face she had known so well for so long; a face whose expression normally broadcast clearly how her husband was feeling.  But right now she couldn't really read it very well. She watched as he licked his lips and shrugged. 

"It...felt right," he replied finally.  "I...I needed to come here."  He turned to face her as he added, "You know what day it is."

"Of course I do," she responded, unexpectedly miffed a bit that he would think she could ever forget their son's birthday.  "And I know you remember it every year, too. But you've never come up here before.  Not since our son died."

Will shook his head.  "No, I haven't," he admitted. 

"So why this birthday?" she pressed him.  She watched as Solomon walked closer and lay down on the other side of their son's grave, almost as if he, too, felt the need to be close to his former master. 

"I don't know," he replied honestly as he reached out to once more lightly caress the polished marble surface.  "Maybe it's because I feel like we finally have some resolution to what happened. We have the answers we have been looking for all this time."  He took a deep breath and let it out as he turned to peer into her eyes.  "I know it won't bring him back...I miss him every day, and I always will.  There will always be this big hole in my heart, especially on this day.  But...we finally know what happened.  And I just wanted somehow to tell our boy that he's not forgotten.  And to honor him in some way."

Sarah nodded.  "Like you said Brian is doing by driving his sulky?"

Will nodded after a few seconds, rubbing his free hand over his jaw briefly as he squeezed his wife's hand with the other.  The two of them stayed there side by side for several minutes, both of them peering at their son's name on the gravestone and recalling past memories of their time with their son. Good memories for the most part now; time was, indeed, at least a partial healer. But neither of them would ever be quite the same again. 

Finally, Sarah heard her husband sigh as he rose to his feet, brushing off his pants as he reached down to pull her up alongside him.  "We'd best be going," he told her as he studied her with concern.  "You'll get your death of cold staying out here.  Your pants are all wet now, Missy." 

She scoffed at him gently.  "I'm not the only one, William." 

He nodded after a few moments.  "No, I reckon you're not," he told her with a grudging smile.  He grunted a ‘huh' at her before he asked, "Speaking of Brian, did you see him before you came out here?  I'm going to need some help today with the apple harvest in addition to his regular chores."

She nodded in affirmation.  "Yes, I saw him." She hesitated.  "He was still in the bed when I went looking for you about an hour ago."

Her husband's eyes flashed in irritation as he peered up at the ever-rising sun; he didn't have to pull his pocket watch out to estimate the time.  "He should be awake and working outside by now," he told her tersely.  "I'm surprised he wasn't up yet. I thought he had become more dependable than that."

"Now, William, we were both his age once...and in love," she reminded him gently with a knowing smile.

"What does that have to do with it, Sarah?  That doesn't excuse him shirking his responsibilities." 

"I'm sure he's aware of his responsibilities, and he takes them very seriously," she told him.  "But he's in love.  Love makes you do some foolish and unexpected things."

Will's narrowed his brow suspiciously.  "Such as...?"

She smiled.  "Such as staying out until almost daybreak," she revealed.  "He was trying to be very quiet, but you know how good my hearing is."

"That boy was out all night?"

She nodded.  "Well, almost.  And something tells me that a certain other boy was out with him." 

Will pressed his lips together.  "That's just plain irresponsible, Sarah.  He knows he's expected to do his part around the farm. He can't stay up all hours of the night - cavorting with that other boy - and expect to get his work done.  I will have a talk with him."

"You will do no such thing, William Walker!"

"Excuse me?  You're going to just let him sleep all day and shirk his chores?  A farm can't operate that way, Sarah!  He knows we depend on him!" 

"Yes, I'm sure he does know," she assured him.  "But he's also a young man who is smitten with our neighbor boy.  You've seen how they are with each other!  It won't hurt for one day if we give him a little break.  Besides, I'm sure he'll be awake shortly, and he can help you with the apple harvest then.  It won't be a disaster if all the apples aren't picked in one day, or if the barn stalls aren't cleaned out until later today or even tomorrow. Just let him be, William.  Let him be the young man that he is, and try not to make him into such a serious person way too soon." 

Will paused to consider her words. "You mean like me?" was the quiet query. 

Sarah leaned over to kiss her husband on the cheek.  "Yes, like you," she verified.  "But somewhere inside you is that fun-loving, less serious man that I married.  You just have to find him again."

He snorted before finally nodding grudgingly.  "Okay, Missy.  We'll give him a little slack today. But ONLY for today.  He may have changed since he came here - and he may need a little down time to have fun - but keeping up a farm is still hard work."  She nodded back at him in understanding as his face softened.  "Now let's get on back.  You can ride back down with me...like we did when I was a ‘fun-loving, less serious' man.'"

She grinned at him as he hoisted her up onto the tractor's seat before jumping up to sit beside her.  Starting up the older machine, he slowly proceeded down the sloping hill, Solomon trotting alongside them as they headed back to the house.

Later that Afternoon...Walker apple orchard

"Batter up!" 

Brian's uncle watched as Justin plucked another apple from one of their Jonathan trees with the handheld apple picker mounted on a long pole and then turned to pitch it to Brian, who was wearing his old baseball mitt as he stood several feet away, his legs slightly apart for better balance.  Deftly catching it in his mitt, his nephew then twirled around and dropped the fruit into one of the wooden baskets lying on the ground before punching the inside of the glove with his fist like Mickey Mantle, causing Justin to giggle over his antics.

Will shook his head as he stood on one of the upper rungs of his favorite, well-worn, wooden ladder.  "Brian, be careful with that fruit.  Those Jonathans bruise easily.  This is NOT the World Series, and you are no Dave Concepcion." 

Brian grinned.  "Oh, I don't know. You should have seen my moves in high school."  He winked at Justin, who promptly blushed, even though he assumed the other boy was talking about sporting moves and not something else. 

Will carefully dropped a couple of red delicious apples into his own basket.  "Only a couple more hours of daylight left," he reminded them.  "I want to get those two trees finished before then.  Sarah has promised some fresh apple butter for your mother, Justin, and some homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert," he told Brian. After a pause, he corrected himself.  "You, too," he told Justin.  "I'm sure Sarah would consider me a bad neighbor for not inviting you to supper with us this evening.  Would you like to join us?"

Brian peered over at his younger lover hopefully.  Any chance to spend more time with Justin was always welcome.  To his relief, Justin smiled at his uncle and nodded. "I would never pass up the chance to have a piece of Mrs. Walker's apple pie and homemade ice cream."  His gaze fell on Brian then, as the other boy grinned back at him with a lazy smirk, making his pulse race in anticipation. 

Will - not noticing the look that passed between the two boys - nodded.  "Then it's settled; you can give your mother a call at the house when we get back.  But not until my nephew the shortstop finishes with those two trees first." 

Brian groaned. They were only partly done with the first tree, and both were teeming with apples.  It would take some time to get both of them picked completely clean.

But his uncle was steadfast.  "You heard me, Brian.  No dinner - or free time for guests," he added with a glance over at Justin, whose face warmed at the inference, "until you're done here."  He knew that last part would be the incentive his nephew needed to complete his chore.  He realized that his wife would definitely scold him if he had failed to invite the Taylor boy to supper. But he also knew the thought of his nephew having the chance to spend more time with Justin would be a great impetus for him to finish with the apple harvest.  He smiled to himself as he watched Brian shaking his head in disbelief.  "I think you and Justin have this well in hand now," he told his nephew as he hid his smile from him.  "So while you're finishing this up, I'll be back at the barn. I have some tools to sharpen and oil.  You can bring the ladder back down with the tractor when you're finished.  I'll walk back."  Turning around, he refused to acknowledge to himself that he was, in essence, giving the two boys a little time alone while they worked, having confidence that his nephew would see that he still finished his job.  He heard Brian utter a simple, "Yes, Sir," before he nodded in acknowledgement and headed back down toward the barn, grinning over the suddenly eager tone in his nephew's voice.

Thirty Minutes Later...

Justin squealed with laughter, bent over to try and protect himself as Brian relentlessly tickled him around the waist. Ever since he had found out about his proclivity for being ticklish, the older boy had delighted in torturing him from time to time.  "Stop it, you asshole!" he managed to eke out in between the long fingers dancing over his sides.  "I'll tell your uncle you're goofing off!" he warned with a grin.  He was abruptly pulled back up as Brian stopped tickling him and shoved his body up against his, their faces mere inches from each other.  His hands slid around the blond's waist to embrace him tightly, causing Justin to gasp at the intimate contact. 

"Oh, you will, will you?" Brian asked with an arched eyebrow.

Justin's eyes twinkled as he licked his lips, noticing Brian's eyes darkening as he focused on his mouth.  He flushed then, trying to concentrate on what he had been saying, but his mouth felt dry all of a sudden.  Their playfulness was quickly brushed aside as they stared into each other's eyes, the sexual tension between them clear and distinct.  What was he saying? Oh, yeah.   "Well...maybe not just yet," he vacillated.   He glared at Brian as the other boy smirked at him, knowing full well the effect he was having on him. 

Brian grinned as he abruptly let him go.  "You're right," he told him as Justin's mouth hung open in a mixture of disappointment and disbelief.  "We'd better get back to work."  He moved to reach for his glove, but was stymied when he felt Justin grab his wrist from behind.  He turned back around to peer at him.  "You needed something?" he asked innocently. 

Justin rolled his eyes like a petulant child not getting his way.  "Yes, I did," he told him indignantly. 

"You want to use the ladder instead of the apple picker?" 

"No!"  He could feel his face warming as Brian stared at him expectantly.  "You...I..."  He shook his head and huffed in frustration, suddenly feeling like an idiot.  "Oh, never mind!"  He released Brian's wrist and turned around to stomp toward the ladder.  He didn't get very far, though, before he was grabbed from behind and twirled around; two seconds later, he heard a growl from Brian's mouth before he wrapped his arms around his body and plastered his lips against his, knocking the breath out of him as Brian kissed him deeply as if he had been deprived for months rather than hours.

After several seconds, Brian let go of him and grinned.  "Is that what you had in mind?"

Justin fought to regain a normal breathing pattern as he glared at him.  "Arrggh! You can be so exasperating at times!  You knew all along what I wanted!" 

Brian's grin widened into a smug one.  "Of course I did.  Because that's what I was wanting, too." 

That caused Justin to pause. "It was?" 

Brian moved closer to gently stroke the side of Justin's cheek.  "It's always what I want every time I'm near you," he murmured as Justin's eyes closed to heighten the sensation of the other boy's touch.  "I've been waiting all this time for my uncle to leave so I could."  He shook his head.  "Do you know how hard it is to be that close to you, and not touch you?  Kiss you?" 

Opening up his eyes, Justin swallowed noticeably at the look Brian was giving him.  "Yeah," he told him softly.  "Because I always feel the same way." 

Brian nodded with a smile.  "So why do you really think Uncle Will left us alone, then?" 

Justin shook his head.  "I don't know," he answered him honestly.  "He said he had some other work to do." 

"Bullshit," Brian informed him.  "He sharpened those tools last week."

Justin's eyes widened in astonishment.  "What?" 

Brian nodded.  "Yeah.  My Aunt Sarah happened to mention it to me the other day.  So that must have just been an excuse to leave."

"But why would he do that?"

Brian continued to stroke Justin's cheek and jaw.  "Well, as hard as it is to believe, I can think of only one reason. He must have done it so we could have some time alone."

"But...I never thought he really approved of us, well, you know. Being together."  Although, he had to admit once the initial surprise of it had worn off, both the Walkers and his parents had become more accustomed to the idea; a fact for which he was very grateful. If he had had to go through what he had endured with the Kesterson boy and the gambling cartel on his own without Brian's love and support, he wasn't sure what he would have done, or if things would have turned out much differently. 

Brian smiled at him.  "It is a big surprise for me, too.  But can you blame him? You're pretty irresistible." 

Justin grinned.  "I am?"

"Yes," was the choked-up whisper as Justin reached up to lay his hand over Brian's.  Brian gazed at his younger lover, his mind traveling briefly to the future when they would have to inevitably say goodbye.  How in the world was he ever going to be able to do that?  The thought of being separated from this other boy made his heart physically ache.  It wouldn't have been too long ago that the mere thought of caring so much about another person would have been totally foreign to him; now, not only did he deeply love Justin, he had come to admire, respect, and yes, love, both his aunt and uncle as well. 

"Brian?"

He blinked then, bringing his thoughts back to the present as he smiled back at Justin reassuringly. 

"Where did you go?"  Justin squeezed his hand and brought it down to rest against his chest. 

Brian could feel Justin's heart beating, strong and sure, under his touch, and he derived comfort from that.  "I'm right here," he told him.  "I'll always be here.  Whenever and wherever you need me." 

Justin gazed back at him thoughtfully, hope springing in his heart that Brian would never leave him.  "I'm going to hold you to that," he told him quietly, thinking how much he loved this stubbornly proud boy. 

Brian leaned in to softly kiss him, his lips slowly moving over his before he pulled back to look him in the eyes.  "I'm not going anywhere, Justin," he told him. He pushed melancholy thoughts of the future aside as Justin reminded him, "We'd best get these apples picked, or your uncle will come back, good intentions or not.  And I want some of that homemade apple pie and ice cream." 

His companion laughed.  "Now we have the real reason."  He grinned.  "Okay, farm boy.  Grab the picker and batter up again!" 

Justin nodded with a smile as both boys got back to work.

Next Morning...

"Honey, make sure you tell Sarah thank you for the apple butter! As always, it's delicious."  Jennifer smiled as her youngest son reached over to snag another homemade biscuit to slather some fresh butter on it and then some more of the apple butter. She wasn't the only one who obviously was enjoying it. 

"I will, Mom," he told her in between bites.

Craig rose from his chair at the breakfast table then, reaching to slide his jacket on.  Taking one last sip from his coffee mug, he leaned down to kiss Jennifer on the cheek.  "I'd best be going," he told her as she nodded.  "Be home around 6 or so."  He started to leave before a thought occurred to him, and he turned around.  "Please don't let Jared sleep the morning away, Jen.  He needs to start looking for a job." 

She nodded in agreement.  "I won't," she promised him fervently.  "Have a good day, Craig," she added. 

He nodded as he picked up his briefcase and headed out the backdoor.  She could feel more of a spring in his step lately - and more confidence in his voice - now that Craig had found a new job.  Plus, it would certainly make them breathe a lot easier when it came to their finances. She knew that Justin wouldn't be around too much longer to carry the weight of their financial burden on his shoulders; nor was it fair.  For the first time in a long time, she could look ahead to her youngest son heading off to Vanderbilt next fall without also feeling pangs of alarm and anxiety about how they would live from month-to-month without his racing income. 

She sighed as she used her napkin to wipe her mouth, scooting back from her chair to rise to her feet.  "Justin, if you're finished with breakfast, will you please take a tray out to Emmett and Vic for me?  I'm going to go see what's keeping your brother." 

Justin nodded readily, deciding he had the easier of the two jobs. Although he had made peace with his brother, he knew it might more than the other night for Jared to start acting more responsible.  Just as he thought his father and mother would do, Jared had been permitted to move back into his old room, rather than stay in the drafty barn. But it had only been done with the stipulation that he go out and find a job so he could help out with expenses.  Their father had told him that with his new job, he would not have as much time to tinker with fix-me-up cars like they used to do, also.  Jared had promised he would do as their parents had instructed, but here he was, back up in his old room and apparently still asleep.  As the saying goes, some things apparently never changed.  He hoped Jared had learned his lesson, but so far there wasn't much sign that he had.

As he stood up to walk over to the oven, however, he was startled to see his brother emerging from down the hall.  "Squirt," he greeted Justin with a smirk as Justin rolled his eyes at him.  "Sorry I overslept, Mom.  Any breakfast left?"  He walked over to peck her on the cheek before he slid his long legs into the nearest chair.  "Any coffee?" he added as he looked over at Justin, who was nearest to the coffeemaker.

"Are your legs broken?" 

"Justin, please."  His mother sighed in exasperation.

Justin huffed indignantly as he turned and grabbed the coffeepot, walking over to hold it over his brother's mug.  He waited until Jared lifted it off the table before he poured. 

"You'll make someone a perfect wife," Jared told his brother with a grin as he reached to spoon a big amount of sugar into his cup.

"Don't tempt me," Justin warned him in a stern tone of voice as he continued to hold the hot carafe above Jared's place at the table. 

"Boys," Jennifer scolded both of them.  "Justin, please do as I say."  Her youngest son let out a heavy breath, but did as she asked as he replaced the coffee carafe back in the coffeemaker before opening the stove to pick up the two meals warming in the oven, covered with some aluminum foil.  As he placed them on a wooden tray and prepared to take them outside, he heard their mother speak again.

"Jared, after breakfast you and I are going to have a talk about what you're going to do today."

"Do?"

"Yes...as in go into town and look for a job."

His back to his brother, Justin couldn't help grinning in satisfaction as he heard his brother's answering protest before, opening the screen door with his sneakered foot, he headed outside toward Vic's trailer. He would be doing some more practice today in preparation for his first competitive meet since the accident, and for some reason he was feeling a little anxious.  Physically he felt fine now; good as new. Mentally, however, he kept thinking about his tumble from the seat of his sulky, and he was surprised by how nervous it made him feel.  His next race would be this weekend, but at least it wouldn't be at Red Mill.  His father - after his initial, knee-jerk reaction - had reversed his conviction not to let his youngest son race again, especially now that the man behind his accident was dead, and the others captured.  But luckily he wouldn't have to face the same track again this week as the one where he had been injured. For that, he was grateful.

As he dropped off the two meals and headed out toward the practice track, he felt his hands sweating, but he knew it wasn't due to any heat; the morning was actually cool, signaling that fall would soon be here. No, it wasn't because of the weather, he knew.  He scoffed at himself.  "Get your act together," he muttered.  He had raced countless times before. Why should this be any different? But he knew why. He just had to convince himself that things would be fine, or he was liable to make a total fool of himself in his meet. 

"Hey, Boy," he greeted his horse affectionately.  He took a deep breath to steel himself and let it out as he reached to pick up his helmet lying nearby.  "Ready for some practice?" he asked Headstrong, who whinnied impatiently.  He grinned.  "Okay, I hear you."  He turned to see Vic walking over to him to help him attach the sulky.  "Vic, I can do it," he insisted, knowing there could be no way the older man could have eaten yet.

Vic shook his head.  "It's a two-person job even under the best of circumstances.  You're still recuperating, Ace." 

Justin rolled his eyes at the familiar nickname that Vic had bestowed upon him after he had first started racing and had been victorious.  "I'm fine, Vic.  I feel 100% back to normal."

Vic nodded. "Maybe.  Then just humor me." 

Justin knew there was no point in arguing.  He sighed.  "Okay," he agreed as the two of them leaned down to pick up a side of the contraption and line it up with the horse, who obediently stood in position. By now, it was second nature to Headstrong, who looked forward to being hooked up, because that meant he was about to fly around the track.  Like True Blue, he loved the element of speed it gave him, and the workout he experienced.  He was also not content to be a pasture horse, either, not after having been used to racing. 

The rig hooked up speedily, Vic held onto the frame as he watched Justin walk over to the other side; he didn't miss the hesitation in the young man's gait.  "Justin?  Something wrong?" 

"No...no.  Nothing," Justin assured him a little too quickly.  Biting his lip and with his hand clutching his helmet, he used his other hand to swing his lithe body up into the seat.  He could feel his pulse racing in reaction, and his heart thumping in his chest.  "I'm fine," he insisted.  He silently chided himself over his reaction. He had been fine practicing and then racing with Brian. Why was today any different?  He tried to tell himself that it wasn't, but it didn't help very much.  Was it because he knew his first race was coming up in a few days, and he had pushed it out of his mind until now? Whatever the reason, he could feel butterflies taking up space in his stomach.

Vic nodded as he gazed at his friend thoughtfully.  "Okay.  I'll time you," he offered as Justin nodded at him.  Vic observed Justin reach for the reins and then he just sat there as if he were frozen.  Glancing over at a frowning Vic, he took another deep breath before jiggling the reins, and issuing a ‘giddap' to Headstrong, who slowly took off before gradually increasing his pace. 

Clutching his stop watch in his left hand, Vic watched intently as the pair increased their tempo even more until they were at maximum practice speed near the halfway point of the track.  He frowned in concern as he watched Justin wipe his mouth, his body rigid in the seat.  He did not want to jump to conclusions, but he had seen some of the same signs before in other drivers.  Was his young friend experiencing some paranoia after his accident?  "Come on, Justin; you can do it," he murmured as he watched Headstrong proceed around the track. 

"Uncle Vic?"

He turned as his nephew walked up to join him.  "Hey, Emmett."

"How's everything going?" he asked as he, too, watched Justin rushing around the track, the sound of the horses hooves pounding on the dirt as he trotted rapidly around the oval. 

"Not sure," Vic admitted as he kept close watch over his friend. 

Emmett frowned as he looked over at his uncle.  "What do you mean?"

Vic's eyes never strayed from his object of concern as he replied, "I have a feeling that Justin may be experiencing some anxiety because of the accident at Red Mill.  He's hesitating." 

To Emmett, his friend seemed the same he always was:  confident and self-assured about his skills.  "I don't see any difference," he admitted.  "He seems to be doing fine." 

Vic shook his head worriedly as he continued to stare at Justin.  "I can tell," he told Emmett.  "He's hesitating.  He's not opening the horse up to full trot."  He paused before adding, "He's unsure of himself.  And Headstrong can tell it, too." The horse seemed confused by his master's actions.  He was used to a firm, sure hand; not a hesitant one, and it showed in his gait.  It was a minor aberration, a subtle one. But Vic could see it.

He punched the button on the stop watch as Justin rushed by him and looked down at the time.  He was right; Justin's first pass around the track was about three seconds slower than he normally raced.  To the casual observer, it wouldn't be noticed, and the three-second difference would seem inconsequential.  But to Vic - a seasoned horseman and an experienced driver - he knew it would probably spell the difference between winning and possibly not even placing in a race. 

He nodded with certainty.  "He's holding back," he revealed to his nephew.  "Just as I thought." 

Emmett turned to face him with concern.  "That's bad, isn't it?"

Vic shrugged.  "It's bad if you want to keep winning.  Sometimes, though, I wonder if Justin's heart is in it anymore, anyway. But I know even if he wanted to eventually stop racing before he goes to college, this would not be the way he would want to be remembered." 

Emmett nodded in understanding.  "Poor baby," he cooed sympathetically.  "You think he'll get over it?"

Vic's lips were pressed in a fine line as he continued to closely watch his friend.  "I don't know, Em.  Only time will tell."  He waited until Justin had reached them once more before pressing the stop watch button, hoping the next lap would prove him wrong, but secretly thinking that it wouldn't.