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Subject: Stranger On a Train Chapter Seven This story is a work of fiction and no character in it is based on any real person living or dead. Where officials are described they are in no way intended to represent any real person who holds those offices, although I recognise that the Metropolitan Police does have some brave officers and that the “system”, however desensitised nowadays, does have some caring people within it. This story may include some sexual activity , though only of a gentle and loving nature, but there will be no graphic descriptions and those looking for pornography are advised to look elsewhere.There are pictures of some of the characters in this story on Jacob Lion’s website along with his story, “A Neglected Boy” also serialized on Nifty. If you like this story, you’ll certainly like his. You can find his website at: https://jacoblion.weebly/ If you wish to contact me for feedback, I can be reached ook. Nifty is kind enough to enable us to write and to read these stories so please consider making a donation. It costs money to run a site like fty/donate.html Stranger on a Train Chapter seven By Jonah It was a beautiful email. It was a warm and friendly email. Not much about life was warm and friendly at the moment. Jake and his boys loved me and my boys, but what would they think if they knew what Peter had done? What would Liam think if he knew what Peter had done? Was all this the result of dirty little secrets between the boys? Had Jake and I allowed ungodliness to creep into our relationships and we were being punished? I didn’t believe in a God who was angry and punished people, only in a God of love, but how could He love me now? I had let Peter down and his brother, and his father. I might never walk again – no that’s the boy in hospital, but that’s not his fault. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I was not thinking clearly. I was panicking and I mustn’t panic. I must think clearly, and I’m even getting my tenses mixed up, but I can’t think clearly. I don’t want to think clearly. Make the thoughts go away. It is hard to be a single parent, and harder to be a male single parent and the stress of this latest crisis was becoming too much. I can’t do it any more. Where were the boys? They had been upstairs in their room too long. What were they doing? Turn up the TV. I’m afraid of my own thoughts right now. Musn’t think. Sing – cry – anything but think. How long have I been here. This is all Peter’s fault, or is it my fault? Of course it’s my fault. Stop it. Turn up the TV some more. Noise, just noise. God is love, but he can’t love me – not now. I don’t believe in God. Stop thinking. Listen to the noise. Drown out the thoughts. I hate noise, but it’s better than the thoughts that come. Don’t let them come. Dear Jesus, don’t let them come. The television falls silent. “Sit down and drink this Jonah, you’ll feel better”. It was Monica. Where had she come from? Are people creeping around behind my back? “Simon phoned me,. He’s worried about you.” I stood up. “Simon?” I shouted. “Simon has no right…..” Suddenly my face was full of little old lady, only she seemed a very big old lady. “Sit down Jonah. ” she said firmly, “Simon did exactly the right thing. You should be very proud of your boys. ALL of them” I didn’t hear much of what she said. Somebody was sobbing. I was not sure who, but eventually it turned out to be me. Somebody was talking. THAT was Monica. I thought of Jake’s email. A GOOD email. A friendly email from boys who had never killed anybody. Alright he may not be killed, but, if he isn’t, that’s no thanks to Peter. An email to somebody they trusted, and believed in. How could they believe in me now? ‘I know that with me being Godfather to baby Jacob, we will always continue to be family’, read the email. Jake is such a good guy, but why would he want to be involved with my family. I can’t even control Peter. I don’t WANT to control Peter. I want to LOVE him. Is that WRONG? Monica is still talking, quietly, soothingly. Will she ever shut up? I don’t want her to shut up. Like all small children, and I feel like a small izmit escort child right now, I need to be sure there’s an adult in charge.” “That’s what we have God for”. WHAT? Is she listening to my thoughts? Can she tell what I’m thinking? “Jonah, Joe is going to take the boys back to my house for tonight. He and Miriam will see that they’re OK. I’ll stay here with you. You really need a good night’s rest.” It was morning, and I was in bed alone for once. There was a gentle tap on the door and Peter came in bearing a cup of tea. “Monica told me to bring you a cup of tea”, he told me. “She says you are not to get up until you feel you can’t stop in bed any longer.” I smiled. “That will be about now” I said, “but I’m going to lay here and enjoy this cup of tea first. I don’t often get the chance”. “I know,” he said. “We should change that.” “Were you frightened last night”, I asked. He nodded. “I’m sorry”. “It was my fault”, he replied. “No Peter,” I told him firmly. “A lot of things are your fault at the moment, but that isn’t one of them.” He tried to smile, then nodded and left. I showered and dressed. Monica had breakfast ready. Luke was already in the boys’ room with Dave, and Peter had joined them. There was a firm rap on the door. Since I was still eating, Monica let in Bob Drage and a tall, unhappy looking woman. “Jonah, I need to talk to Peter. Normally I should take him to the station, but I think we can do it here.” I had been expecting something like this so I called Peter downstairs. “Peter, ” said Bob, “I don’t like having to do this, but a crime has been committed and we have to respond”. Peter was near to tears and the tall woman looked to be as well. “Peter, in view of your good record, the Superintendant has agreed that we should let you off with a caution. That means that your name will be on our books for three years. If you do anything wrong in that time it will count as a second offence and you’ll be sent to a detention centre. Do you understand that?” Peter nodded. “Then we’ll say no more about it”, Bob told him. “Now Mrs. Porter wants to talk to you”. The tall woman crouched down until she was face to face with Peter. “Peter,” she said, ” I want you to know that none of this is your fault. It’s mine and my husband’s. We talked about it and we thought it only right to talk to you. Peter, Samuel has seen more of his parents in the three days since you put him in hospital than he did in the three years before that. We’re Roman Catholics, and we’re not racists, and we thought we were bringing Samuel up well, but we were always at work so how would we know?” She seemed about to break down in tears so I offered her a cup of tea. Bob lent her a handkerchief. “Thank you,” She said. “Samuel had a life-saving operation yesterday. We hope it was successful. The doctors say that, if he can make it through the next twenty-four hours he should be OK” . He knows what he did was wrong. Dani Singh went in to visit him this morning, but he really needs to know that he can be friends with you. Will you come and see him?” Peter looked questioningly at me. I must have looked flustered for a moment because Bob said, “Mr. Cummings, I can give you a lift to Great Ormond Street hospital. I’m taking Mrs. Porter back there anyway, if you can find your own way back again.” “Er… sure..” I said. “I just need to tell Luke’s tutor what’s going on”. Forty-five minutes later Peter and myself, together with Samuel’s mother and father were gathered round a bed in Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital. The whole bed was covered by a sort of tent and a great confusion of pipes and wires led to the boy underneath it whose pale face crowned with ginger curls stuck out at one end of the blanket while his bare feet stuck out the other. The boy’s eyes were open, but there didn’t seem a lot of life in them. There seemed to be a smile on his face but his father explained that it was probably the result of the muscle relaxant drugs they had administered to stop him from moving about and hurting himself. His lips moved slightly and he appeared to be trying to make a sound. “Ca…..Ca….” yahya kaptan escort His eyes flickered toward Peter. “He’s trying to say Peter’s surname” I guessed. Peter stood close to the bed and leaned forward so that the boy could see him without turning his head. The boy tried again. Very faintly we heard “Fe…. fe…. fre..fred…” He’s trying to say ‘friends’, he wants to know if you’ll be friends with him” translated Mr. Porter. Peter leaned forward again and very clearly said. “Friends”. The smile on the boy’s face finally reached his eyes. He beamed up at Peter as Peter, through his tears, smiled down at him. Having missed calling in to the office for two days in succession I took Peter with me to see if anything was desperately awaiting my attention. My desk seemed clear, except for two layouts I was not in a hurry to complete, since they were for next Christmas. I asked if anybody was with the editorial director, and was told that nobody was, but he wanted to see me yesterday. That meant leaving Peter with Susan, the photographer, who loved children so that would be OK. I knocked and went into Derek’s office. He greeted me and sat me down. “How’s the family?” he queried. “Growing”, I replied. “We’ve got an extra boy now. A keen artist as well but he’s a bit young for us to use him”. “Could be the future though” he replied, “but that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about”. “Ah…” I said, non-commitally. “No,” he said. “How’s your workload at present?” “Five contracts, one of which is Susie’s and two are for next Christmas”, I replied. “Do you think Shaun could handle one of the others.?” “I expect he could but…..” “Good,” he said, because we’ve landed, or are trying to land, an American contract which will be worth more than those five put together”. I raised my eyebrows. “Jonah, Philips-Murchisson are a new firm marketing hardware and peripharals from their new base in Boston. Their new lines will be announced in July, and we need to have the layouts ready for then, preferably by the end of May. US advertising firms will be trying to snap up the work so, for two weeks in April, I’m going to need somebody on the spot. Now I can’t pay for an American holiday for your family, but, If I can book you into an hotel in Boston and pay for the flights for your family, can you be on the spot there? It’ll just mean paying hotel bills for your kids, and food and entertainment, though you could book some of that as expenses. It’ll coincide with the Easter holidays anyway”. I was flabbergasted. I can honestly say my gast has never been so flabbered. “I’ll need to talk to the boys about it, but I can guess what they’ll say. You can leave me to book the hotel, I might be able to do it cheaper than resources can. ” “Resources have contacts that you don’t Jonah”, he pointed out. “And I have contacts that they don’t, ” I replied. “I’ll let you know first thing Monday morning.” I collected Peter and made for home. We made it back in time to join Dave and Luke’s afternoon session. Dave was on with numbers, and Luke seemed to have coped with counting up to twenty. He even seemed to have grasped what the numbers represented. Peter and I joined in with the excercises and then, just as Dave started a reading session, we started dinner. By the time Simon got home we had a chicken casserole ready for serving up, together with Peter’s apple crumble and custard. Luke had acquired a taste for stories so I read a reasonably big chunk of “The Wind in the Willows” to the boys until bedtime. I even helped Luke read a passage for himself. At bedtime Simon and I showered on our own, but Luke and Peter shared the shower. They were some time but I didn’t want to know why. Simon climbed into bed beside me. “Hey!” I said, “Don’t you have your own bed?” “Come on man”, he replied.” You know we’re only going to come in here in the middle of the night anyway. I’m just saving time”. He had his arm around my middle which made me nervous. “Simon I don’t think….” “Look I know why you never got married”, he said, “and you know why I’m not going to.” “So if Peter carries gebze escort on as he is doing with Luke in the shower, your Dad’s line of the family will die out”. I remarked, and instantly regretted it. “That’s not fair”. “No it wasn’t Simon. I apologise.” “Besides,” he continued,” I’m not coming on to you. You know I’m saving myself for Kori, though I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again”. That struck a chord. “Simon,I didn’t know that, which just shows how thick I can be sometimes, but you might see him again sooner than you think. I need to talk to you boys about it, but not yet.” He hugged me tighter. I could feel a largish protuberance digging into my midriff. “Aw come on man,” he cried. “You can’t leave it like that” I could see that I couldn’t. “Simon,” I said, ” my boss wants me to go on an assignment in America at Easter. I haven’t agreed to it, and I will need Jake’s help, so not a word to your brothers until I’ve heard from Jake.” “Come ON” he replied, “You can’t expect me to keep something like THAT quiet.” “I can, I do, and you’d better”, I replied. “If I cop any grief from your brothers we’re definitely not going. Now that you’ve reminded me I’d better go and send that email.” I reached the landing as two little rug rats padded from the bathroom. “Hey,” I told them, ” if you’re going in there, get back to the bathroom and finish drying yourselves properly. I don’t want damp sheets” “Nice” said Luke gazing at my manhood. “I’ve never seen one that big before.” “While you’re in there you might want to pull the flannel through your ears. Clean out that filthy mind of yours “. I told him. as I padded downstairs to fire up the computer. It took about half an hour to send the email. It would be early evening in Ashfield so I could hang about to see if I got an early reply, but it was late and cold in London and I really must get in the habit of putting something on when I get up late at night. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat down at the computer again. My e mail was still open on the screen. Dear Jake Harrow, 25 January 2019 I know I only emailed you two days ago but I have something I need to check out right away. My boss has asked me to take on an assignment in Boston MA. over the Easter school holidays. He is offering to book me into a hotel in Boston, but I have three boys here, one of whom is pining for Kori, one is mooning for Liam and the third – well you’d just love him. If you are willing, I’d love for them to visit with you while I’m working in Boston. The only thing is that Peter got himself in trouble using his karate skills at school, so he now has a police record. I don’t know if you really want to harbour a convicted criminal. We are all pretty upset over that but it isn’t a topic for an email. Anyway, I promised to give my boss an answer on Monday so you have time to think about it. My love to Kori and Liam and to you as always. Jonah Reading it again it sounded a bit abrupt, and did I really want to tell Jake about that? Of course, Peter would tell him if I didn’t. What was really troubling me was that my hurt might show through the email. The email server pinged. I opened the new email Hi Jonah, my friend Ashfield MA. 01/25/19 Why would I need time to think about it? You must stay here with us, and you can tell your boss to forget about hotels in Boston. We can get you to Boston when you need to be there. Kori and Liam will be so excited, and, of course, you have a new son that we haven’t met. I reckon Garret and Riku, and Peter will be excited to meet you too. Come to think of it, so will my friend Neil. You will be welcome and the only problem will be waiting till Easter. WHAT isn’t a topic for an email? We’re friends Jonah. We don’t need to be afraid of ANY topic. And Peter is no more a criminal than I am. I’ve had the same problem with Liam, but he’s still a good boy, as Peter is, and I still love him, as you love Peter. I can tell that’s upsetting you and I understand, but I’m still honored to be your friend. We had a blast at Christmas but of course life isn’t going to be rosy all the time, and when it isn’t, your friends here in Ashfield will always be here for you. Sending hugs from Jake, Kori and Liam I read it through twice, then sat back and smiled through my tears. Jake was right of course. Life could be bad or good, but SOME things in life would ALWAYS be good.

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