Toward the end of the week of final exams for the seniors, Brant finished practicing the piece he and Randy were to perform at graduation and went downstairs for dinner. During the meal, he brushed the sheaf of hair from his forehead.
"I thought I told you to get a hair cut!" His father snapped.
"I haven't had time with exams," Brant replied. Absently, he brushed the hair back again.
"What the hell is that!" He grabbed a hand-full of hair and jerked his son closer to look at the earring. "You look like a goddamn queer!"
His mother started to speak, attracting her husband's wrath. "Don't open your mouth! If you and my sister hadn't been so damned insistent he take piano, he wouldn't be such a sissy."
"But, dad, a lot of guys wear them now."
"Bunch of fairies! You're going to get rid of it right now."
Brant shook his head. "Not unless Randy does. We promised each other."
"I might have known! It just proves how a fine old family can go to hell. Imagine a man of von den Acker's status marrying a worthless Indian." He shook a finger in Brant's face. "You're not going to see that disgusting half-breed again. I forbid it. Now get that damn thing off your ear, or I'll do it for you."
Enraged when Brant failed to move, he reached over and snatched the ring from his ear. Brant screamed as the wire cut through his earlobe. Blood flowed down his jaw, dripping on his shirt and the tablecloth. His father stared transfixed at the bloody object clutched between his thumb and finger.
Brant sprang up, his chair bouncing off the wall. "Damn you! I am queer!"
"Get out of this house, you filthy cripple pervert!" The scream followed him out the door. "I hope I never lay eyes on you again!"
At the curb he paused momentarily, then turned towards Randy's. He ran until he sagged against the closed gate, his head aching, his torn ear still oozing drops of blood, his stump a mass of stabbing pain from the pounding of the ill fitting leg. Blinded by tears, hands trembling, he fumbled with his key unable to fit it in the switch. He managed to press the buzzer before slumping semi-conscious to the sidewalk.
Randy and his father had eaten dinner together at the faculty club and were enjoying the leisurely drive back home when Randy gave a sudden jerk and sat rigidly, his eyes unfocused. After a few seconds he grabbed his father's arm. "Something's wrong at home. Hurry."
As his foot pressed against the accelerator, von den Acker remembered another occasion when he and Randy had left the house for dinner at the club. He had driven only a few blocks when Randy had suddenly cried out, "Go back home, dad. There's a fire."
There was no sign as they turned into the drive. When his father started to admonish him, Randy was sitting expressionless, glassy-eyed, then with a sudden jerk he looked at his father. "It's inside," he said, and jumped out of the car.
When they entered the house, he could hear the old furnace roaring. He raced to the pantry and tripped the circuit breaker, while Randy dialed 911. As he and Randy waited outside, he looked up to see heavy clouds of black smoke billowing from the chimney. After the excitement was over, the fire chief mentioned how fortunate it was that they had noticed before the fire spread from the chimney to the house itself.
Questioned after the belated dinner, Randy said that he had a feeling that something was amiss and had entered his spirit body and flown over the house, seeing the smoke. Asked how he had accomplished that, he'd merely smiled at his father and said, "I learned from the Shaman."
Intrigued, von den Acker questioned colleagues in the university's parapsychology department who studied such phenomenon. Though they were unable to offer any specific data, he kept an open mind about the psychic ability of the Shamans and those who studied Indian medicine, because he had witnessed occasional events that could be explained no other way. He did not question Randy further, knowing he would not answer since even a vague reference to his psychic ability made him extremely uncomfortable. But from that time on he paid close attention to his son's warnings.
As he slowed and pressed the button to open the gates, he noticed Dammit, head pushed between the bars, howling. When the gates opened enough, the husky squeezed through to crouch over the crumpled figure and began to bark furiously. Randy jumped from the car.
"It's Brant! He's hurt bad!" He laid Brant on the back seat, cradling his bloody head in his lap as his father ignored speed limits and ran stoplights when possible.
After taking two tiny stitches in the torn ear, wrapping the battered stump, and having the nurse clean Brant up, the physician permitted Randy to carry Brant back to the car. A look from his father kept him from asking questions until Brant lay semi-conscious in bed after swallowing more pain medication.
"Who did this to you?" von den Acker asked quietly.
"Dad," Brant mumbled.
"For what, for Christ's sake?"
"He saw my earring. He tore it out of my ear then threw me out of the house." Brant's eyes teared again as he reached for Randy's hand. "I'm sorry."
Anguish covered Randy's face. "Oh, God! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble, my brother."
"Randall," his father's voice cut harshly, "what's this all about?"
"It wasn't anything."
Brant broke in. "I took it seriously and so did you."
"But I didn't think your old man would be a sonofabitch about it." He looked plaintively at his father. "I got the rings to remind us we're brothers. Honestly, I didn't mean to cause Brant any trouble."
His father gave him a chary smile. "I know you wouldn't do anything to hurt Brant, son. You've worn one of your mother's studs ever since she died," he saw his son's look of surprise, "because you wanted something of hers with you, to feel her near, just as the ring was something of Brant. I'm sorry this rebounded on him." He looked at the drugged boy. "Let him get some rest."
"Stay with me, Randy." Brant mumbled.
Randy stripped and slipped into bed, fearful of hurting him, but Brant snuggled against him, fading into a drugged sleep.
Meanwhile, von den Acker paced his study, a stiff drink in hand. He had maintained a calm facade for Brant's sake though he was in a tightly controlled fury. He smiled grimly at a thought of the pleasure his hands around Brant's father's throat would bring. Well past midnight and several drinks later he relaxed enough to go to bed.
Brant lay in deep sleep the next morning when Randy slipped from the bed to join his father at breakfast.
His father set the morning paper aside and waited for Randy to seat himself. "I think we should talk about what's happened before making any decisions, son, because it's more than just Brant. We're involved, too."
"But what's he going to do if we don't help him?"
"I don't know. What do you wish?"
"He's my brother. I've got to take care of him."
"I know, son, and because of that I want you and Brant to be happy. If you feel deeply that this relationship is right, then I'm pleased it's with someone who loves you as Brant apparently does. Yet, I'm fearful of Petersen's reaction when he finds out. If he got this violent over something as small as one earring, I shudder to think. Have you given that any thought?"
"Not really."
"Then start by being more careful about physical contact in public. It's something few will accept, especially religious fanatics. Helen, I know, would try to understand, but you know how Hank raves and I'd hate to see your relationship with your godfather ruined. I also fear it might affect Brant's studies with him. As much as I like and respect Hank, he has an unreasoned hatred of gays. I doubt he would ever be able to reconcile himself to the relationship you and Brant share, despite his affection and regard for you both."
"It isn't fair."
"I agree, but it's reality, none the less. If you wish to talk with someone other than me, I'll be happy to ask the counselor of the gay students group at the university to work with you and Brant. He's helped several former students of mine work out some of their problems."
"Thanks, dad."
"Now, what about your exams?"
Randy shook his head. "We've had them all except 'Civ.' It's this afternoon."
"If Brant feels able, do you feel up to taking him? Without his crutches, you'll have to carry him unless you stop somewhere and buy him another pair."
"I can carry him. I did it before. What about the awards program?"
"Let's see how this goes first. Fix something for Brant. I'll be along in a few minutes."
Brant was finishing his breakfast when von den Acker entered Randy's room. "I have a note from the doctor who treated you. Shall I get your exam postponed?"
"No, please. I want to get it over with. I feel a lot better."
"As you wish. I'll go over some of the material with you."
He reviewed the essentials of the course with them until he was satisfied both boys would write a good exam. After telling them to relax until the scheduled time, he left for his office.
Only Ms Phillips was in the classroom when Randy carried Brant in. She backed away, eyes wide with horror at the sight of the dangling jeans leg, the discolored ear against which the black silk stitches stood out starkly.
"What have you done to him!" She screamed at Randy. "Go to the office right now!"
"He didn't do it." Brant said quickly. "He's taking care of me."
She looked at him doubtfully. "He is? Then who ... ? Was it here at school?"
"No," Brant mumbled.
"But surely ..."
"Please. Just let us take the exam."
"You're in no condition to take it. You may take it later when you feel better."
"I'm okay. I've studied for it."
"He really is, Ms Phillips. He wouldn't be here if dad didn't think it was okay."
"Well ..." she paused in thought, "the room next door isn't being used. I'll put you in there, that way you won't distract the others. You may begin now rather than waiting."
When they were seated in the adjoining room, she handed them copies of the exam. "Randall, I apologize. I ..."
"That's okay."
Helped by the review with Randy's father, they both completed the exam well before anyone else and left the building.
When Randy neared Brant's house without slowing, Brant asked him to stop, wishing he could avoid it.
"I need my crutches and some clothes. If mother's home she'll probably make me stay. You don't have to come in."
"How're you going to get in if I don't carry you?"
"Oh, Jeez. I forgot. She'll probably bitch a lot."
Randy scowled. "She'd better not try to hand me any shit."
They were half way up the stairs before she appeared in the hall below. "What are you doing here?" She demanded of Randy.
"Carrying Brant to his room to get some stuff."
When Randy sat Brant on his bed, she gasped at his stitched ear. "My God, you did have your ear pierced. I thought it was a clip-on. Why was he carrying you? Where's your leg?"
"Dad took him to the infirmary. They fixed his ear, but he hurt his stump getting to our place, so he can't use the leg for a while," Randy growled.
She regarded him with a sour expression. "Your father takes an undue interest in my son, and you've been nothing but a bad influence on him ever since we moved here. Your friendship is unhealthy, but I should have expected as much from a heathen. Now get out!"
Randy struggled with his temper. "Native Americans aren't heathens! I was baptized and confirmed at Saint Michael's. Besides, Brant and I are brothers."
"Brothers! I'd have an abortion before I'd have a half-breed like you."
"Yeah? Well it's a damn good thing somebody cares enough about him to help him when he needs it."
"Don't you dare speak to me that way! Get out of this house!" She shrieked.
During the exchange, Brant had picked up his crutches and pushed some clothing hurriedly into his backpack. He turned to his mother, eyes blazing. "If Sequoyah goes, so do I."
"Sit down and shut up! You're going nowhere. Especially with him."
Brant tossed the pack to Randy. "Come on."
"Brantford, you come back here this instant!"
"When you and dad decide to be reasonable," he retorted and stepped into the hall.
"I said, now!" She reached out to grab his arm, but Brant twisted. Her hand sent one of his crutches clattering down the stairs. Off balance, Brant pitched forward, but Randy dropped the pack and caught him. He glared at her and picked Brant up, carrying him down the stairs. He paused long enough to pick up the other crutch and steady Brant before retrieving the backpack and following him to the car.
Brant was restless when they went to bed, but once Randy's arm cradled him, he fell asleep. Several hours later, Randy's eyes snapped opened. He raised up on his elbows, then sat up. The dark shapes of the furnishings loomed larger than life in the pale light of the waning moon, then begin to vanish.
He felt Brant move in his sleep and looked down at him. He blinked, seeing a gray mistiness begin to rise from Brant's sleeping body. 'Not now,' he begged silently. The mist took form and drifted to the far end of the room, seeming to huddle near the floor. Randy was overwhelmed by the sadness that flowed from the now unchanging shape. Near the supplicant figure another form began to coalesce, white instead of gray, erect. As it spread its arms, the grayness of smaller figure became a pale golden glow, held its arms out and took a limping step forward. The white figure became brighter. Randy blinked his eyes again. The white figure had vanished; two different forms appeared. The cloud of darkness surrounding them extended over the smaller, extinguishing the golden glow. The form writhed in pain. Randy cringed under the feeling of hate eminating from the two darker forms. In a twinkling, the dark forms vanished, the white form reappeared and absorbed into itself the dark cloud. The smaller figure began to glow and caper freely, its limping gait gone. Randy felt its joy as the forms dissipated, the room restored to its normal appearance. He looked down at Brant once more, thinking, 'Oh, little one, what's ahead for you?'
Randy lay against the pillows looking at Brant with a solemn expression. When he awoke, Randy reached down to brush aside the sheaf of hair lying across his forehead.
Brant yawned, then seeing Randy's serious expression, he asked, "What's wrong?"
Randy wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer. "I had a vision last night."
"You sure it wasn't a dream?"
"Not this time. I was awake. It was about you."
"What was I doing?"
"I don't know. Soon you'll be happy, but then I saw you sad, maybe hurting."
Brant flinched. "It was bad?"
Randy shook his head. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't. The figures I saw weren't clear; they were more like ghosts. I could feel what they felt, but not what caused the feelings. Did you have a dream?"
"I think so. I don't remember what about, except I felt good at the end."
"I thought you must have, because that's when it all happened. I know one of the figures I saw was you, because I saw the spirit rise from you. I'm glad you felt good, because in my vision you were really happy at the end and you were jumping around on both legs and not limping."
"I wish I could, but there's no way I'll get my leg back."
"It could mean you'll get a good one that doesn't hurt."
"That's all I really want. When is all this supposed to happen?"
"I don't know. Sometimes what I see in a vision is slow coming."
"Even if I hurt some, I hope the happy part is real."
"It will be. I was awake. I hate some of it was bad."
"I almost wish you hadn't told me about that."
"I thought about it, but I had to share it with you, my brother." He hugged Brant. "I'll be with you, no matter what."
After Brant had been with them several days, Randy noticed that he seemed subdued, uneasy, especially around his father, but assumed it came from lingering pain and the way his parents had acted.
During the second evening he was home to eat dinner with them, Randy's father also noticed the change. "What troubles you, Brant?"
Brant avoided his eyes, looking down at his plate. "I .. I don't know what to do. It isn't right for me to keep staying here. I ... I've got to find somewhere to go, 'cause my folks don't want me any more. I called home and mom slammed the phone down soon as she heard my voice, and dad said he didn't want to see me again, ever. I wish I could talk to my aunt. Maybe she could tell me what to do. I'd like to go stay with her, but she's sick."
"Have Sequoyah or I said or done anything to make you feel unwelcome?"
"It's not that. You've been great, helping me and all."
Randy recovered from his shock. "No way I'm going to let you leave. You're my brother. I thought you loved me."
"I do, but I can't keep freeloading off you and your dad."
"I believe I told you that when Sequoyah took you as his brother you became a son to me. This is your home and I would be as upset as Sequoyah if you left. If talking with your aunt will help, please give her a call tonight."
After dinner, Brant phoned his aunt from von den Acker's study. She talked with him for a short time, then demanded to speak with Randy's father. Brant looked on in amazement as the usually forceful personality of von den Acker seemed cowed under the barrage of questions as he offered repeated assurances. Finally, he handed the phone back to Brant and left the study.
A few days later Randy brought in the mail from the box set in the gatepost and sorted through it. He handed an envelope to Brant. Brant glanced at his aunt's return address and stuck in his pocket, unopened. That evening he tapped on the study door and entered, giving the envelope to Randy's father.
He opened it and handed Brant a brief letter and a substantial cheque, then scanned the bank statement with an amazed expression before looking up at Brant. "Does your father know about this?"
"No, sir. They had a fight about something after I was born and they haven't spoken to each other since. Mom used to take me to visit her a couple of times a year, because she thought my aunt might leave them some money. She doesn't have any children, but the last time we went to see her before we moved here she told mom it would be a cold day in hell before she'd leave anything to them. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have gotten to study music."
von den Acker looked at the statement again. "This stock account is in her bank then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Wasn't she afraid your father might see the bank's return address on the envelope of the statements?"
Brant grinned. "Everything went to her as my trustee. When she sent me end-of-the-year statements or money for my birthday and Christmas, she used plain envelopes and put my friend's name on it so dad or mom wouldn't know it was from her and open it. She told me not to let them see anything, so I hid it in one of my old music books. Her accountant did my taxes."
von den Acker's respect for the woman grew. "You have quite a number of shares in the bank's stock. Do you know what they're worth?"
"No, sir. Just what's in the checking account she gave me."
von den Acker switched on the computer and moved the mouse for a few moments then stared at the screen while the modem made the connection. When the stock listing came up, he copied the figure and shut the computer down. His eyes narrowed as he did a rapid multiplication and told Brant the total.
"That's great. I was hoping it was enough to get the leg I want, but I didn't know it was this much."
"Then why have you put up with the pain the one you have causes you?"
"My aunt told me she read a lot about it after I had my accident and the best place was a clinic in Michigan. She wanted to take me there, but she's older than dad and not too well, so the folks wouldn't let me go when she asked me to come see her. I couldn't figure out how to go on my own without the folks finding out about the money."
"If graduation weren't so close, I'd have Sequoyah take you there now, but I think it will be best to wait until that's over, since you'll likely have to be there a few days."
He received the coveted five graduation invitations. One he sent to his parents, another to his aunt. He gave two to Randy who needed them to send to family friends who had known him since birth. The remaining invitation he had shyly given to Randy's father.
"I know you'll be there for Randy, but I ... I want to feel somebody's there for me, too. I mean I don't have anybody else but my aunt and I don't think she can come."
"I appreciate the thought, son. I hope you know that I will be there as much for you as for Sequoyah."
The next evening Randy's father referred to the note pad on his desk, picked up the phone, dialed, and engaged in a lengthy conversation. When he replaced the receiver, his face mirrored satisfaction.
The morning before the day of the awards program, he told both boys to dress for dinner and left them to continue their practice of the piece they were to play at graduation.
"I don't know why we have to dress up," Randy grumbled after his father left the music room. "I mean it's not like he said we're going out or anything."
Brant shrugged. "Maybe he's asked somebody over."
"Nah. Even if he did it'll be Hank and Helen, but he's never made me dress up for them. Oh, well, it isn't that often he asks."
That afternoon von den Acker parked the Bentley and strode into the airport arrival area. Looking at the vid monitor, he checked his watch and walked quickly to the gate. Through the glass he could see the plane taxiing to the ramp. A few minutes later a regal white-haired woman, still immaculately groomed after a long trip, passed through the gateway and paused to look around, her eyes lingering on his face.
"Mrs. Halvorsen?" When she tipped her head slightly, he continued. "I'm Willem von den Acker."
"I am delighted to meet you in person, sir. It is most gracious of you to have gone to so much trouble."
"No trouble at all. I'm delighted that you have come to be with us for a few days. Brant will be thrilled to have you present at his graduation, especially in view of what has happened. I'll have a porter get your luggage."
Once they were on the highway out of the airport traffic, she spoke. "I am in your debt, Doctor von den Acker, for informing me fully of Brantford's situation."
"It may have been presumptuous of me, but I felt I had no other choice. Brant has mentioned no other relative and he appears to feel that you are the only one who cares for him."
"Quite true in both respects, unfortunately. I trust I may speak openly with you?" At his nod of assent, she continued. "Frankly, my brother is a conniving, insensitive, money-grubbing ass, and his wife is worse, a self-centered, social-climbing bitch. My husband and I wanted to take Brantford and raise him as our own, but because of our ages, I'm somewhat older than my brother, and for more personal reasons, Brantford's parents wouldn't hear of it. I'm constantly amazed that he has turned out so well on his own."
"He's a delightful young man. He brought my son and me together after I behaved so unthinkingly after my wife's death. But I must ask your feelings on the relationship he and my son share. As I told you, they are unusually close, even in the context of Indian brotherhood."
"From which I infer they are gay. Don't look so shocked; I know the word. I may not be in the best of health, but I'm not senile." She smiled. "My husband was in the timber business. There are not many words I haven't heard from his logging crews, all of them much worse. But no, I would have preferred that Brantford be ... straight, I believe is the word used. However, as an anthropologist you are aware that this condition is as old as history, as anyone with knowledge of the subject would know. It appears that only in recent times society has chosen to rail against it as though it were one of the seven deadly sins. They would be better served if they put their attention on the real problems that exist. However, I digress. Do you really believe that your son and Brantford love each other completely?"
"There is no doubt in my mind that their love for each other is genuine."
"Excellent."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me, sir. God knows, he has received precious little love from his parents. If your son fulfills his need for love and affection and Brantford returns it, as I have no doubt that he does, then I'm pleased for the both of them. I'm not such a horrible old woman that I would deny him love, regardless of where he finds it."
Von den Acker glanced at her for a moment. "For my son's sake, I must ask. Does it disturb you that my son is half Cherokee and immersed in his heritage?"
She stiffened and gave him an icy look. "That, sir, is insulting. I have a dear friend who is part Native American."
"My apologies, but my wife was, and my son still is, a victim of discrimination. I had to know for my own peace of mind. Brant told me that you are an extraordinary woman. Now I must concur."
"Thank you. Brantford's letter to me with the invitation and my phone conversations with you have been a great comfort as regards his welfare. It's unheard of, in my experience, that a gentleman of your standing would have taken in someone else's child and so graciously provided a home for him."
"I must confess that it was for Sequoyah's sake and, as it has turned out, for mine as well. Had it not been for Brant, I would have been far longer in recognizing the error of my ways. I might have lost my son completely."
"Nonsense. Brantford may have sped your recognition, but you would have come to an understanding in any event. I believe we may end this discussion as we're in complete agreement. And, please, call me Olivia."
"I'm Bill to my friends, which you certainly are."
Her glance was piercing. "I shall call you Willem. Nicknames are undignified."
"Of course." For the first time in years, he was grateful for his father's insistence that he practice European manners.
When he turned into the drive, she looked at the house. "How lovely. It quite reminds me of the house my husband built when we were married. Of course, after his death, I moved into a retirement condominium. A house that large was impractical for one person."
After a maid, hired for her visit, had taken her bags, von den Acker showed her to the lift. "I trust you will wish to rest before dinner. Your maid will be in the connecting room and see to your wishes. Tea has been prepared; you have only to ring. I shall meet you at seven for dinner."
At a few minutes of seven von den Acker was waiting in the hall when Brant and Randy came down in the lift. When they entered the hall, he asked them to wait and took the lift up.
Randy scratched his head, bewildered. "Wonder why he's taking the lift? He always uses the stairs like I do."
A few minutes later they heard voices as the lift gate clanged shut.
"Good Lord! The old man has a woman with him," Randy said, watching the gate intently.
When the gate opened and his aunt stepped out, Brant's mouth dropped open. He stared at her, unbelieving.
"Is this the welcome I receive, Brantford?"
"Aunt ... Aunt Olivia? Wha ... what are you doing here?"
"I do believe I received an invitation from you."
"But I thought you were ill."
"So I gather. Don't I get a kiss?" She asked, inclining her head.
Recovering from his surprise, he kissed her on the cheek, then hugged her tightly. "I don't believe it. This is wonderful. Are you staying here?"
"Of course. Doctor von den Acker graciously extended his hospitality. I am being most royally entertained."
Brant turned quickly toward him. "Thank you, sir. This is the most wonderful thing anyone could have given me."
"You are entirely welcome, Brant. Now, shouldn't you introduce Sequoyah to your aunt?"
"Oh, yes, sir." He turned to his aunt. "I'm sorry, Aunt Olivia. May I present Sequoyah von den Acker."
Randy stepped forward, took her hand and raised it to his lips. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am."
"It is my pleasure to meet a young man with such exquisite manners. If I may, your name is quite unusual."
It was Randy's turn to blush. "I'm Cherokee, ma'am. My mother named me ..."
"For the gentleman and scholar who introduced the written word into your language, if I'm not mistaken."
Randy's eyes widened. "How'd you know that?"
"I may not be an anthropologist like your father, young man, but I have studied the history of this country for many years. Before I was married, I taught American history and I have never lost my love of the subject. I continue to read a great deal. Your father's book on Native American cultures was particularly enlightening."
"You've read that?" Randy asked in surprise.
"Of course. There are several small tribes in our area and I wished to know more about them. Your father's book, while dwelling mainly on the Cherokee, provided me with some insight into current sociological aspects of Indian life." She looked at Randy's father. "I can only wish that your book had been less oriented toward the Cherokee and more inclusive of the other tribes."
"I'm sorry it didn't provide you with the information you were seeking," he replied. "It was difficult to work within the limits set by my publisher. I have enough information to turn out a series of volumes, which I may at some time in the future, but the Cherokee are my specialty."
"I should have understood that when I saw in the bio that you are an honorary member of the Eastern Band. However, I found your work fascinating and I'm delighted to have it in my library. Were I not so forgetful, I would have brought it with me in the hope that you might favor me by inscribing it."
von den Acker flushed slightly with pleasure. "You honor me, Olivia. It's rare that one is asked to autograph a piece of research. I'll be delighted to sign one of my library plates for you to place in it, and I would like to give you a signed copy of my newest book as well."
"How very thoughtful of you. I shall treasure both." She turned back to Randy. "May I assume from the length of your beautiful hair that you are a descendent of the Long Hair clan."
Randy stared at her, surprised again. "Yes, ma'am, I'm ani-gilohi. I sure wish I could have had you for my American history teacher. The one I had didn't know the first damn thing about us, nor care." At the look he received from his father, he dropped his head and blushed again. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
She gave him a mischevious grin. "There's a hell of a lot teachers today should know which they don't."
At Randy's shocked expression, she added, "Now that we have the social amenities out of the way, we may say what we think. Am I correct, Willem?"
"Of course, Olivia. Shall we go in?"
She placed her hand on his arm and they entered the family dining room. He seated her at his right and took his place at the end. Brant sat across from his aunt, with Randy at the other end of the table. When the maid served the soup course, Randy slumped lower in his chair, bending to eat.
"Sit up, Sequoyah. It's distressing to see a tall handsome young man like yourself hunched over."
Randy jerked upright, his shock at her admonition showed. Her hand quickly flew to cover her mouth. She turned to von den Acker in consternation, her face flushed. "Oh, dear. You must forgive me for correcting your son in his own home, Willem. I fear I sometimes forget that I'm no longer in a classroom."
"Please don't give it another thought, Olivia. I'm certain that coming from you, Sequoyah will pay more attention than he would have accorded me."
During the meal she inquired about the music which was louder than background music would have been played.
"I am sorry," von den Acker said to her. "I intended to tell you that it's a CD made from a digital tape. I had one of the technicians from the university record Brant's performance with our local symphony."
"How wonderful. Brantford sent me a program and the review from the paper, but I thought the reviewer may have been given to hyperbole to encourage him."
"In no way. Doctor Hilton, dean of the university's music school and Brant's teacher, still talks about the performance and says that it compares favorably with the best he's heard from any established artist. While you are here we shall ask the boys to perform together so that you may judge for yourself."
"I shall anticipate that." She turned to Brant. "You didn't tell me that you were taking lessons at the university."
"Doctor Hilton was here for a party. When Randy and I played together, he arranged for us to study there."
"I can hardly believe your father would pay the tuition. Did you use the money I gave you?"
"No, he paid it. When I told Randy he wouldn't, Randy said he'd fix it and he did. He wouldn't tell me how."
von den Acker gave her a smile. "I'll tell you about that later."
"Indeed you will. It will be a pleasure hearing how you managed to wring the money from that Scrooge. Sequoyah, have you the proper equipment to make a CD copy?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Excellent. Please obtain anything you might need and I will reimburse you. I shall want to hear that over again in the quiet of my home where I can give it my full attention."
"Oh, no, ma'am. I have everything I need. I'll be happy to make you one."
"Thank you."
After dinner Randy and Brant excused themselves to copy the CD for her. Olivia spoke to von den Acker over coffee. "I'm certain my few days here will be filled, Willem, but I feel we should discuss Brantford's future. If you have the time, I should like to do so now."
"Certainly."
He led her to his study and, after she was seated, mixed her a brandy and soda, fixing another for himself. When he took the chair across from her, she inquired about tuition and the expenses which Brant would have at the university, telling him of the trust account. "You are already aware of his stock holdings, and he has a small checking account as well."
"You have provided generously for Brant. All together, I believe the yield from the trust and the dividends from the stock will cover his expenses if managed prudently. You may rest assured that his home is here with Sequoyah and me and what I provide is done with concern for a fine young man and my love for my son."
"Lord love you for that, Willem. I assume that when Brantford begins classes at the university he will need a car, particularly with his handicap."
"Sequoyah has a car and their class schedules will be the same for the first couple of semesters, so Brant really doesn't need one at present. We also have a Jeep which he can use if necessary."
"As you think best. Frankly, Willem, though it's an unforgivable situation as far as his parents are concerned, I shall be forever in your debt for your kindness to him. Yet, I must impose on that kindness and ask that you take the responsibility of managing Brantford's assets, if you would. I no longer feel capable of doing an adequate job, but you are to let me know immediately if he needs or wants anything. Or, if you see fit, you may provide it and I shall reimburse you accordingly."
"I will be pleased to do that, Olivia."
"Thank you. I am attaching one condition. I know that you are a director of a bank here and, while I have all confidence in you personally and professionally, I must insist that all of Brantford's affairs be handled through my bank in which I have placed his accounts. I also insist that my brother not be informed of even so much as the identity of that bank. What Brantford has, has come mainly from me and he is my sole heir, other than for a few small bequests. I will not hesitate to move the entire business to a Swiss bank before I'll risk having my brother find out anything about my financial affairs or Brantford's."
"I quite understand."
"Excellent. You have no idea what an avaricious snoop my brother can be. He would just love to know the extent of my estate."