A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another really long chapter. There are only five more chapters in this book, and then Part 3 will start, with only random days in Rachael’s life appearing sporadically: Dawn

WEDNESDAY, June 22, 2016

Constable Steve Winslow got to the police station at 8 a.m., much later than the prior day, but still two hours before his 10 a.m. shift. He found the chief at his desk, surprised to see him.

“I called you and Cierra to come in at 9, not 8,” the chief said.

“Yeah, but we had a house guest last night, and she is an early riser, or at least her cat is. I left Helen to do the hostess thing.”

“Oh, the lady whose house got shot up?” Steve nodded.

“Well let’s drive out to the site and take a look, then. I need to be back here at 9 though. There is an OPP SIU officer coming by then to talk to you and Cierra.”

“SIU? Special Investigation Unit? What for?” Steve asked as they walked out to the chief’s car.

“They have to investigate any case where a civilian dies as a result of police action,” the chief said.

“Civilian!” Steve said with a snort. “But I guess they have a job to do.”

“Yeah. Be prepared. I understand they can be pretty rough.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Steve said. “And Velma has to be in the clear as well.”

“Yeah, but let them figure that out by themselves … oh my God.” They had just driven up on Oak Street, and parked as close to the police tape strung across the road as possible. There was a cruiser on either side, with an officer in one, and an auxiliary from the Hobo Army on the other.

“Hey chief,” the officer said, snapping to attention once he recognized the car. “Thought it was another yahoo coming by to look at the scene. They’ve been rolling by all night.”

The grow-op house was completely gone. A strong odor of marijuana still emanated from the smoking ruins. Two fire fighters were on scene, playing water over the ruins. There was a man from the town surveying the damage.

“We are going to have to condemn that house,” he said, pointing at Mrs. Berrilia’s home. “Too many bullets went into it to be structurally sound anymore. And we will have to take out all the trees that were shot at.”

Steve tried to imagine Oak Street without any oaks. “Not all of them, surely? I mean I can see the ones the snipers stood behind: there are hundreds of rounds in each of those two. But the others only have a few stray hits.”

“These trees are getting near the end of their lifespan,” the man said. “They may need to be taken down in a few years. In five or 10 years those bullet holes will be covered up, and the bullets inside will be two or three inches under the outer bark. Just deep enough to be deadly to the man with a chainsaw trying to bring them down.”

Steve could see his point. Right now a sawyer could know the bullets were there, and avoid them. In a few years, they would be a health risk. “What if someone was to dig out the bullets: not on those two bad trees, but on the ones with only a few shots? It would be nice to save some of the trees. They give the street such a nice canopy.”

“That would be a huge job,” the town worker said. “We don’t have the manpower to do that. Do you?”

“As a matter of a fact I do. I’ll have a man named Gary call you later today.” The man gave Steve his card and then left.

Steve and the chief also headed back to the station. “I guess Helen and I are going to have a house guest for a while. I hope Helen is up for telling her that her house is condemned. I don’t want that job.”

They got back to the station at 8:30, and the SIU man was already there. He met with the chief for just over an hour, and then came out to find Steve and Velma waiting. Velma had come in with coffee, including one for the OPP officer, who gratefully accepted it. He then took Steve into the waiting room. At the same time Inspector Bell slipped into the chief’s office. His wife was waiting in the staff room, and sneered at seeing the coffee cups: they were the brand of the place she had worked at until yesterday.

“Could you start by giving your full name?” the officer clicked on a tape recorder and recited the time, date and location. “I assume you have no problems with me recording this interview.”

“None at all. My name is Stephen John Winslow and I have been a member of the Ingersoll Police Department for the past 16 years. My current rank is Police Constable.”

“Can you tell me, in your own words, what happened yesterday morning?”

Steve described the events up to the point where they were standing on the porch, and he moved to the other side of the door.

“Can you tell me why you disobeyed your clear orders and moved to the wrong side of the door?” the investigator interrupted.

“I have a feeling: a strong one. It seemed to me to be the right thing to do.”

“But your orders were to stand on the other side. You disobeyed orders.”

“If I hadn’t, there would have been at least two dead officers on that porch yesterday,” Steve retorted. He took a minute to calm himself. The man was clearly trying to rattle him. He refused to lose his cool.

Steve continued, telling how he then pulled Const. Cierra off the porch and onto the ground, where they waited.

“Why didn’t you seek safety during that 10-minute lull?” the investigator asked.

“Because I didn’t know it was a 10-minute lull until it was over. At any time that man could have come out and shot at us crawling or running for cover. Staying put seemed safest.”

“What do you think was happening when this lull was going on?” the officer asked.

“I had no idea at the time, but in retrospect I think they were putting the body armor on the shooter.”

“So you could have burst into the room during that time, and arrested them without any violence?”

Steve just stared at the man in amazement. “There were four of them. One was probably holding an assault weapon with a magazine of 30 rounds. With all due respect, I don’t think that an arrest without violence was possible. Then or at any time.”

Steve continued without interruption to the point where he rolled out of weeds to take his shot.

“Why did you choose that time to act? You could have reacted sooner, and an officer would not have been injured.”

“Well, it took some time for me to work out a plan that had even a slim chance of working. I kept looking for a better plan, but none arose. Then, when the officer was wounded, there was a lull across the street. With the men on one tree trying to assist the injured officer, the men at the other tree couldn’t safely fire. I realized that soon he would remember the two of us on the porch, and look around for him. So when he emptied that last magazine, I decided to act.”

“And you took a million-to-one shot that luckily worked,” the officer said. “Continue.”

Steve only said a few words when he was interrupted again.

“Why were you not prepared when the woman came out of the house?”

“I had my weapon focused on the shooter, in case he was still alive. I didn’t immediately see the woman come out, and didn’t see that she was armed. Luckily Constable Cierra yelled at her, and she lost concentration. I dove, and was about to fire when my partner shot her.”

“Another lucky shot,” the man said.

“No luck. Velma is one of the best marksmen on the force.”

“And you are the best?”

“Yes, I barely beat her on most practices. We have a little rivalry. It encourages us both to go into the range and shoot at least every other week.”

“I see. How long have you and Constable Cierra been dating?”

That nearly made Steve blow up. He calmed himself and slowly continued: “We are not dating. I was married a week ago. I love my wife. Cierra is my partner, one of nearly two dozen I work with here in our small force. There is nothing going on.”

“But I have information that you and the constable embraced at the end of yesterday’s events.”

“She was shattered. She had never pointed her weapon at a living person, and she had just killed someone. She was distraught. I merely was comforting her.”

“Until your wife appeared on the scene,” the man said.

“Yes. And Helen immediately knew there was nothing romantic between the officer and I. In fact, Helen took over embracing Velma and comforting her. She is much better than I at that.”

“We will leave this for now. I still need to know why you left your partner alone with two dangerous men on the porch.”

“I had secured them both in nylon cuffs, and Velma had her gun on them. The officers from the SWAT team were approaching, with rifles at the ready in case the men resisted in any way. I learned that there were people in the house, and went in to rescue them.”

“That was not a very bright idea, was it? Running into a burning building. Why not wait for the firefighters?”

“Ingersoll only has a volunteer fire department,” Steve said. “Only the chief and the assistant chief are full-time town employees. The others are only paid an hourly rate when they are fighting a fire, or when they are training. Not a huge rate, either. Certainly they aren’t paid enough to risk their lives entering a burning building. I am. Putting myself in harm’s way is my job, not theirs.”

“So you carried two men down and to safety,” the man said, with nearly a sneer.

“They were boys, not men, and starved at that. They weighed less than 100 pounds each. And I only carried one. The other collapsed on the stairs, and I had to drag him out.”

“Why didn’t they flee on their own?” the officer asked. Surely one doesn’t stay in a burning building?”

“They were chained to a radiator in the kitchen they were in. I used my gun to shoot through the chain so they could get out.”

“So you fired your weapon a third time?”

“Yes. The Ingersoll Police Force does not issue bolt cutters or hacksaws to its officers. The bullet was the only tool I had that could cut a chain in a matter of seconds.”

“Weren’t you worried about a ricochet hitting the boys?”

“No. I laid down with my body between myself and the boys. They couldn’t be hit.”

“But a ricochet could have hit you. What if a part of the chain went into your eye?”

“I thought about that, and whether I could shield my face with my arm. But I had to see to shoot. If I had been hit, then I would have had to get those boys downstairs with a bloody face.”

“All right,” the investigator said. “I just have one question. Do you consider Velma Cierra to be cut out to be a police officer? Her reactions during this incident leave some question in my mind.”

Steve nearly exploded again. “Velma Cierra is as good a cop as any on this force. Yes, she is a woman, and she reacted like a woman in this situation. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t react like a cop. She shot a person to save my life. I would work with her over any of the men on this force. She had my back all the way.”

“Interesting reaction for someone who claims he is not her lover,” the investigator said. Steve balled his fists, and was about to attack this man for his slurs. Then he thought of Helen: calm, wise Helen, and held back.

“Look, if you interview Constable Cierra with the intent of making her cry, then you will likely succeed. But if she cries, that doesn’t make her a bad cop. She is tough when she wants to be, and a woman when she needs to be.”

The meeting was over, and when Steve left the room, Velma looked startled to see her partner with such raw emotion on his face. “Don’t let him get to you,” Steve told her as she entered the room. He is a prick. Be strong.”

Steve had been in the room for over an hour, but Velma came out in under 15 minutes. She had been in less of the action, so it made sense that the interview was shorter. The inspector went into the chief’s office.

“Did he hit you with that crap about us being lovers?” Steve asked.

“Yes, just once near the start. I had the perfect answer though,” Velma said. “Carter and I decided last night to get married. He’d like you to be the best man, and my sister will be maid of honor. We’d like Helen to do the ceremony. On Friday if she can: my sister insisted on a day to get a dress. It will only be our immediate families.”

“Congratulations,” Steve said, hugging her. Of course, that was the point when the SIU officer stepped out of the chief’s office. His eyebrows shot up.

“Just congratulating my partner on her forthcoming marriage,” Steve explained. The man smiled.

“I have just given my verdict to the chief. Neither of you will face suspension or dismissal. That isn’t to say that there is no further action on this matter. I am recommending that both of you be awarded the Ontario Medal for Police Bravery. Your chief agrees, and is quite eager to do all the paperwork that this entails. I am truly glad that neither of you were harmed in this event, and apologize for being so rough on you. It is my job, you see.”

A few minutes later, the investigator left to return to Toronto, and the chief called the two into his office. “Apparently provincial protocol is for two weeks paid recovery time for an officer involved in this type of event. You are both expected back here in two weeks. Although I have heard through the grapevine that Cierra might be looking for a nameplate that says Walton. Is that right?”

“Yes it is chief,” she said with a smile.

“You have a couple weeks holiday outstanding,” the chief said. “I will approve any or all of it to follow your leave. Have a great honeymoon.”

“One other thing,” he added. “The word is already out around the office that John Bell is retiring, effective Monday, which is the first day his early retirement is possible. He also has nine weeks or so of holidays, so tomorrow he will start those, until his retirement goes through. I had his wife Susan at my shoulder all the time Steve was in his interview, making sure I got the paperwork through.”

“We need to have a party for him,” Velma said.

“He said he would come in on Friday,” the chief said with a smile. “And Susan agreed, so long as he didn’t come in uniform, or carrying his weapon. I think she plans to burn all his uniforms in their patio barbecue.”

“Steve, can you stay a moment. Velma, let me know how many vacation days you want in the next day or two. I’ll do the paperwork.”

Steve sat down opposite his boss: “How the hell do you survive with three officers out. That’s an eighth of the force? With court time: how will you manage.”

“We can do it,” the chief said. “A hell of a lot of overtime, and I might even find myself taking the odd night shift myself for the first time in 20 years. But when you get back, then I have a proposition for you. I need a new Inspector, and I’d like you to take it on.”

“Me? But I don’t have the seniority, there are two other guys who should get first crack at it.” Steve protested.

“Jeb Kyle and Harry Rockland. They are both in their 50s. I hope to retire in seven to 12 years, depending on how things go. Both of them will be retiring then, or soon after. I want a strong, experienced Inspector to turn things over to when I leave. I think you are that man.”

“But won’t they be pissed off at me getting the job?”

“Jeb won’t be. He hates paperwork, and is weak on investigations. He’s just working his way until his retirement day. Harry might be pissed off. He might even look for another job, but at his age, I doubt he will get any offers. He’s a good cop, but has no managerial experience, and minimal investigative. Any force looking for a Detective or Inspector will want someone younger. Someone your age.”

“I don’t know,” Steve hesitated.

“Please think it over while you are off,” the chief said. “I really need you. Of course, town council will have to approve it, but you are the golden boy right now after yesterday. I’m sure they will approve it. I’ll name you Acting Inspector tomorrow and that will help sway them.”

“Well, if I take it, I’m not taking two weeks off,” Steve announced. “There is too much to do. We need to cover the shifts, first of all. And while Velma is going to be back soon, don’t count on it being for a long time. She is nearly 30, and once she is married she will start thinking about having a family. That means at least a half year doing desk work when her condition gets too far along, and then there will be a full year off after the baby is born when she gets maternity leave. And this could happen two or three times, depending on how big a family they want.”

“Shit,” the chief said. “We never had to deal with this when I started on the force. What can we do?”

“First, we support her 100%. It is her right, and worrying about it won’t solve the problem. We will have to hire some new people.”

“Hiring just became the job of the Inspector,” the chief said with a smile. “What will you do?”

“Well, we need to cover the shifts,” Steve said. “I’m probably going to have to be on days most of the time, except overtime. But I have an idea for that. We have several dozen auxiliary officers working for us as volunteers. If we could have one auxiliary and one officer, that should cover the union requirement to have two officers in a car from 10 p.m. until 6 a.m. We’ll have to get the union to agree. Do we have any money in the budget?”

“There will be some. Your salary won’t be as high as John’s was until you have 10 years in the job. I have no doubt you will get the merit increase each year, but the difference is more than a little. We could probably pay $20 an hour to auxiliaries. How many do you want? Four?”

“I’d like six, even if the hours are not fulltime,” Steve said. “The union won’t go for this unless they can see that it will lead to more full-time officers. I would like to send three men to a private school in London that has a compressed Police Foundations program. In a year they will qualified to go to the Police College in Aylmer. And we can use them for weekend night shifts. The other three will go to that school the following year. They won’t be promised a job when they graduate, like the first three, but they will have experience as auxiliaries and that should make them easy hires for the OPP or other forces in the area.”

“This is why I want you for the job,” the chief said.

“There is more,” Steve said. “For the union to buy this, we need to add another officer. It will be your job to convince town council to fork over another salary. We are going to need a woman officer when Velma is on pregnancy leaves. Sarah Jane Rockland is currently in her third year of the full Police Foundations course at Fanshawe College. She’d be an excellent candidate for the force, if her dad is truthful when he says she is a top student in the class.”

“And bingo, you get Harry on your side by giving his daughter a chance to work here. Brilliant.”

--- -- -- -- -- - -

Rachael got home from school a bit spent, and flopped down next to Grandpa after giving him a kiss. “I really should get over to see Mrs. Winchester at the home,” she said. “I just don’t know when I will find the time.”

“Go now,” Grandpa said. “You can be there by four, and come back at 6 for supper.”

“Supper? I have to make supper,” she started to get out of her chair. “And I can’t walk over there in less than an hour.”

“I’m getting supper,” Grandpa said causing Rachael to get wide-eyed. “Don’t give me any of your looks. I can’t work in a kitchen, but I can still dial a phone. At least a real one, not one of those little toys you use. Do you want pizza or Chicken?”

“I don’t know,” Rachael said. “We eat pizza at the bakery a lot.”

“Chicken it is,” grandpa said dialing. “I’d like a cab here as soon as possible,” he said into the phone, giving the address.

“A taxi?”

“To get to the home. I’ll order dinner later. The lady said there was a car close, so you have about five minutes to get ready.”

“A taxi is too expensive,” Rachael protested.

“I told you about my deal with the cab company,” Grandpa said. “There is a $15 fee I pay each month if I don’t use a cab. And with you folks living here now, I hardly ever need a cab. And remember, the tip is built into the account.”

Rachael barely had time to get ready before the cab was there. In fact, she did her lipstick as they drove to the home. She booked the cab for 5:50 to take her home, and then got out and went to Mrs. Winchester’s room.

The lady was not there, so Rachael went into one of the main rooms, and found her at a table, playing cards with five other women, her age and a few years younger. Her face lit up as she saw Rachael walking in. Later Mrs. Winchester told her that one of the unofficial bragging rights for residents was from having visitors, and visitors that are not part of the family were worth double points.

Rachael was happy to wait for the game to end, but the ladies gathered up their cards and took up Mrs. Winchester up on an offer for them to go to ‘her patio’ and look at ‘her roses’. They headed down the hall, three of them in walkers, and two with canes. The third woman held the handrails along the side of the hall, and was tickled when Rachael took her other arm.

“Such a nice girl,” she heard from behind. “She isn’t rushing all over the place. She is going at our pace.”

When they got to the room, Rachael helped them all over the patio door, and to the benches the Hobo Army had set up around the patio, where they could all admire the roses, to the delight of Mrs. Winchester. Rachael darted into the kitchen and started a pot of tea. She had brought a bag of cookies, and some goodies from the bakery, and arranged them on a plate. She brought them out on a plate, and then asked each lady how they liked their tea.

“Oh darling,” one lady said. “You didn’t need to do that. We could ask the staff for tea.”

“Not with treats like this,” Mrs. Winchester said, taking a bite out of one of Rachael’s homemade peanut butter cookies.

The other women raved at the goodies, and vied to get at Mrs. Winchester’s dinner table, knowing that the lady would be bringing most of the left-over goodies for a dessert.

Rachael served tea, and the women were elated to have someone new to talk to.

“Did you hear about that shooting thing yesterday,” one lady said. “Thank goodness it wasn’t on this side of town.”

“My old house was only two blocks away,” Mrs. Winchester said.

“I used to live on that street, many years ago,” another lady said in a case of one-up-manship.

“That young policeman is a hero,” another lady said. “He stopped the shooter, and then went into the house to save two boys.”

“That was Steve Winslow,” Rachael said. “He dated my mom once. But now he is married to Pastor Helen, from the Presbyterian church.”

Two or three of the ladies, including Mrs. Winchester, said they attended that church, and talk turned to the church and the painting. Before she knew it, the alarm on her phone beeped, and Rachael had to leave.

“Do you all need help getting back in,” she asked.

“No dear, we all take dinner at the 7 o’clock sitting, so I think we will sit out here a while longer,” Mrs. Winchester said, reveling at being hostess to so many ladies.

Rachael went around and kissed each of the ladies on the cheek, to their amazement and satisfaction, and then sprinted for the lobby of the home, getting there just as the taxi pulled up.

---- --- ------- -- ---

It was early afternoon when Acting Inspector Steve Winslow was called to the station reception area. A woman in a business suit was standing there with a briefcase. She handed Steve a card announcing her as Melanie Cook, caseworker at the Oxford Children’s Aid Society.

“I understand you are holding two underage boys as a result of the events of yesterday. I have come to take custody of them,” she said.

“Well, we aren’t actually holding them,” Steve said. “One boy is being treated in the hospital, and the other is there now, keeping him company. The family we placed him with last night is with him.”

“Making a placement is the responsibility of the CAS, not the police,” the woman said snidely. “Just who is this family?”

“They are local business owners who have a farm outside the town,” Steve said. “We notified CAS last evening, and the manager there said we could temporarily place the child. I can personally vouch for the couple who took him in, and when I saw him just before noon today, the boy seemed extremely pleased with his carers.”

“That is my job to determine. I will head over to the hospital and meet the boy, and these people.” Steve decided that he didn’t want this woman running roughshod over the staff at the hospital, and also got a cruiser and drove over. He had placed an officer at the hospital earlier, since the two boys who could testify against the gang would be together, and might be in danger. When he arrived, he released that officer and sent him on patrol, planning to spend the next few hours in the hospital. He needed to interview both boys for his investigation into the grow-op anyway, and could kill two birds with one stone by providing security at the same time.

He arrived in the boy’s room just seconds after the CAS lady did. “Who is the person who looked after this boy yesterday,” she snapped.

“That would be me,” John, the painter of the picture in the church, said.

“And where is your wife?” the caseworker said.

“I guess that would be me,” Paul said. “We were married a few weeks ago.”

“No, no, no,” the woman said. “The CAS requirements are that only a stable family can foster a child. I cannot leave the children in the care of a same-sex couple.”

“Ma’am,” Steve interrupted. “I personally know these men, and they are one of the most stable families in Ingersoll.”

“But they are both men. There needs to be a wife,” she insisted.

“I am willing to be an at-home parent,” John said. “We have bonded with Elliot, and he seems to enjoy our home.”

“They are the best parents I’ve had in my life,” Elliot spoke up from the chair, where he had been holding the hand of Tyson, the boy in the bed. “I want to stay with them. I’ll even go back to school if they will have me. And Tyson too.”

“You can’t stay with them,” the woman said. “They will turn you gay.”

“Too late,” Elliot said. “I am already gay. I’ve known that for four years.”

The woman gasped, and then slapped his hand away from Tyson. “I suppose he is your boyfriend,” she said.

“No. But he is my best friend now. We are like brothers, and would like to stay together. We went through a lot over the last year, and want to keep in touch.”

“No, no, no,” the CAS woman said. “I will not place two gay boys in the same house. You won’t even be able to go to the same high school.”

“If you take us away from John and Paul, we will just run away again,” Elliot said. “We did it before. We will come back to them.”

“Elliot!” a female voice behind Steve screamed.

“Mom?” the boy said as a large middle-aged woman came into the room and enveloped him in a hug. “Dad? Cindy?”

“We thought you were dead,” the young pre-teen girl who had accompanied the adults cried, worming her way in between her mother and her brother to hug him.

“You need a haircut, Son,” the man said with a laidback smile.

“Well, they didn’t exactly offer us a chance to get to a barber,” Elliot said. “I’ll get one this week, I promise. But I’m not going back to that high school in Orangeville. I’ll run away again.”

“We can talk about this later. We are just so glad to have you back again,” the father said. “We will work something out. I got angry with you before, and I thought I lost you forever when you ran away. And then when you were abducted … the whole family went through hell. Eventually they said you were dead. We even put a memorial up for you at the cemetery next to Grandma.”

“That I need to see,” Elliot looked around with a smile. “I need to introduce you to everybody. That is Paul, and his husband John. I don’t know the name of the policeman, but I recognize his voice. He is the man who pulled Tyson and I out of that burning building.”

Elliot’s mom flew across the room to envelope Steve in her bear hug. “Thank you for saving my boy, and rescuing him. We saw it on the news last night. We were hoping against hope that it was Elliot you saved, but the police from Toronto didn’t confirm it until this morning. We all piled into the car and drove directly here.” She then looked at the CAS lady.

“I don’t know the bitchy woman’s name,” Elliot said. “But she is from the CAS, and sounds like she needs to chill out a bit.”

“Well I never,” the CAS lady said.

“With his parents and family here,” Steve said, “I don’t think you will have any interest in Elliot. We will notify you when Tyson is being released … unless he also has a parent appear.”

The CAS lady sniffed a few times, and then left the room. As she exited, a frail looking woman entered. “Is Tyson here? They said Tyson was in here.”

“Mom,” the boy on the bed said weakly. The woman gasped: “You’re alive. You’re really alive,” and rushed to the bed. Steve put out an arm to stop her.

“He’s been badly hurt, and as much as you want to hug him, you will hurt him. You can hold his hand though. Elliot had only let go of his friend when his family attacked him. He walked around the room and sat on the other side of the bed, taking Tyson’s hand as the sick boy’s mother took the other.

“I’m so glad to see you again, my darling little boy. We heard on the news about … everything last night, but the police wouldn’t say anything until this morning. Your Dad … well, you know him. He still is saying ‘My Son is Dead to Me’ but now I know it isn’t true. I don’t know what to do. I still love him, but I love you too. I know you can’t live with him … I just don’t know what to do.” She broke down weeping.

“Don’t cry Mom,” Tyson said, starting to weep himself.

“Maybe I have a solution,” Paul said from the corner of the room. “Elliot spent the night at our home, and we have fallen in love with him, just as his real parents apparently have. He hates the Orangeville school, the only one in town due to the bullying that took place before he ran away. Ingersoll has a fine school, and somehow it has avoided the normal bullying plague.”

“I suggest that both boys live with us on our farm outside of town. Elliot told us last night that he would go to school here, and convinced Tyson to agree earlier this morning. If you would each make us their legal guardians, we will look after them, and get them back on track in school. The boys are not lovers: more like brothers after all they went through, and they want to stay together.”

“And if you let them stay with us,” John continued, “we will have a big family dinner each Sunday, so you folk can come and visit. The boys need their families, or at least those who love them. It could be the best for them, rather than trying to go back into bad situations.”

“I will pay for Elliot’s care,” his father said. “Work out what you feel is fair, and let me know.”

“All we want is the boys to be happy,” John said. “We don’t need money. In fact,” he looked at Tyson’s mother, “we will be happy to send you whatever you need to come down on Sundays.” The woman looked grateful, and John knew his sense that she was hard up for cash was accurate.

“You are saints,” Tyson’s mother said, jumping up to hug John, and then Paul before sitting back down and taking her son’s hand again, as if worried that she might lose him again.

“If that is settled, then I will get a paralegal working on guardianship papers that even our friend from the CAS can’t break through. And I need to talk to each of the boys for … oh, an hour each,” Steve said. “Why don’t you all head down to the cafeteria for some overpriced and undercooked lunch while I talk to Tyson. He will need a nap after that, but I think that the nurses will allow his mom and his friend to hold his hands while he sleeps. He is probably not getting out of here until Friday.”

“What is wrong with him,” his mother asked.

“Several broken ribs, damage to his kidneys, damage to his spleen, and bruises all over his body. He is on painkillers right now, but they will be wearing off soon, so I want you all to leave now. I need to talk with him while he is lucid, so the sooner the room is cleared, the sooner I will be done and the nurses can ease his pain.”

Steve spoke to Tyson for a half hour before the pain got to be too much for the boy, and then he went and spoke with Elliot in a meeting room for an hour. As a minor, Steve could not refuse the request of his parents to listen, but after only ten minutes his mother fled the room in tears from listening to what her son had gone through. His father, however just got angrier and angrier as he listened to the entire story of the boys’ year in captivity.

When they finished, and Elliot had sped back to Tyson’s room, his father turned to Steve. “Thank you for killing that brute. I hope that you can make life hell for the other two of them too. Let me know if there is anything I can do. I am just so angry that people could do something like that to young boys. I didn’t accept Elliot’s confession of being gay, and handled it badly. But there is nothing like feeling you have lost your son to know that you can love him no matter what his orientation may be. Thank you for saving him. I think it will even save our marriage. Shirley blamed me on Elliot leaving, and when they started to say he was dead …” The man choked up, and Steve put out a hand to his shoulder.

“Just be there for the boy,” he said. “John and Paul are really good guys, and will be excellent role models for them. And if you keep contact, weekly if possible, it will give them another facet of attention that will help them heal.”

--- -- - -- - -- -

Rachael got out of her cab just as the man from the Chicken restaurant got back from making the delivery. She came into the house with it full of a wonderful aroma.

Just as they finished there was the sound of a car in the drive, and Geoff went to the door. “It’s for you Rachael,” he called into the living room. She got up and saw Pastor Helen at the door.

“Can we borrow you for a few hours, Rachael?” she asked. “Pastor McNaughton and I have a bit of a problem to solve, and we think that you could make a big difference with it.”

As they drove to the high school, Helen told Rachael that Miss Smith, her gym coach had been accused of being a lesbian, and some of the parents had called a special meeting of the school board to deal with ‘the problem.’

“What difference does it make if she is?” Rachael said. “I mean, you never would know it in class. She never goes into the changing room when the girls are there, and I have never seen her touch a girl inappropriately.”

“That is what you need to tell the board. We wanted a current student of hers to be able to tell the board just that. You know how some people are about gay people,” Rev. McNaughton said, not mentioning that until recently he was one of those people. But now he was putting his reputation on the line to help one of them.

At the high school, the gym had been made into a board room. The school board usually met in London, but this special meeting had been called by the local representative, who explained the ‘problem’ once the chair had called the meeting to order.

“I understand that at least one of the members of the faculty at the middle school is a lesbian,” the woman said. “She was seen in a restaurant in London inappropriately touching another woman. When approached, she confessed that she was in a relationship with that woman. According to the standard professional contract for all teachers, they are required to maintain high moral standards. Several parents have complained that having a lesbian, especially one teaching Phys. Ed., may be harmful to their children, all of whom are entering Grade 5 at the middle school in September.”

“The question in this case is whether or not Miss Smith has maintained high moral standards,” the board chair reported. “Do you have anything to say, Miss Smith?”

“No, sir,” the teacher said.

Rev. McNaughton stood up. “Well I have something to say in support of Miss Smith. I have known her since she was a toddler, and watched her grow up into a fine young woman who spends countless hours teaching our young people. Sport is the best way to teach teamwork, fair play, and countless other good traits that we want our children to have. Midge Smith had been exemplary in teaching these girls those traits.”

“Ha,” said the local representative. “You are just the pastor of some little rinky dink gay church, and you expect us to listen to you, with your little Lesbian pastor next to you.”

Pastor McNaughton was about to speak further, but an enraged Pastor Helen stood instead. “The Pastor speaks for the Presbyterian Church of Canada, and our congregation may now be the largest one in Ingersoll. He recently had a near death experience, and went right to the gates of heaven. There they told him that his hatred of gay people was a sin, and he has since repented. And I am no lesbian. I recently married the man who yesterday risked his life to save several others in an event that you all must have heard about.”

That stopped the crowd, including the board. They instantly recognized that she was talking about Steve.

“She isn’t teaching students. She is touching students,” a voice from the audience said.

“I hope you have proof of that, Madame,” Pastor McNaughton turned on the speaker. “That statement could be construed as hate speech at the worst, and slander at the least.”

“Who can say what happens inside those locker rooms?” the woman in the audience replied.

“I can,” Rachael stood up. “I have been a student of Miss Smith for the past two years. She doesn’t even teach your precious little fifth graders: only Grades 7 and 8. She never goes into the locker room while we are changing and showering, and I have never seen her touch anyone in any inappropriate manner. She is a great teacher. A little forceful sometimes, but she always gets her girls to do their best. And if someone was forcing themself on students, that would be a pedophile, not a lesbian. The two things are totally different, and only close-minded bigots don’t know the difference. I would love to have Miss Smith teach me again, although I am going into high school next term and won’t have the chance.”

The discussion continued for another half hour and absolutely no evidence was given that Miss Smith had done anything to merit her dismissal, although the opposition tried to use the morals clause to no avail. In the end the board voted 13:1 to allow Miss Smith to continue teaching at the board.

The woman in the audience who had slandered her then stood up and announced that she would be pulling her children out of the public school system and enrolling them in the Catholic system, where homosexuality was not allowed.

After the meeting Miss Smith came over and hugged all three of her supporters. “I thought I was finished as a teacher,” she told them. She turned to Rachael. “But it was your speech that made all the difference. It gave them the choice between taking the easy way out, and being bigots, or doing the honorable thing.”

“And it didn’t hurt when you said that if you were disciplined in any way you would take the board to court,” Pastor McNaughton said. “The loss of a few students will be way cheaper than a million dollar court settlement. Hit ‘em in the pocket book.”

“And the lady taking her daughter to the Catholic Schools might be interested in learning that at least one of the teachers there is gay,” Midge said. “They just don’t talk about it.”

---- -- -- - -

That night:

Dear Lord

Thank you for an interesting day. First a visit to Mrs. Winchester, who was so pleased to see me. I will have to go back and visit again, every other week, if not more often. She seems to be adapting to the home well, and making friends.

And then you saved Miss Smith, didn’t you. You put words into my mouth, and the Pastors’. We were just the tools in you getting things made right.

Amen