Wait and Hope: Epilogue
Epilogue
In the ensuing silence Rafe waited expectantly for an affirmative answer. When Harry said nothing, Rafe told his partner that he was going to get cleaned up, excused himself and slipped into the bathroom to hide his plummeting hopes. He thought for sure after what they shared already this morning with the moving in, Harry’s declaration he couldn’t fathom a life without Rafe in it, then their becoming one in the most intimate way of all, that Harry would say yes.
When Rafe returned from the bath with a cloth to help Harry clean up, the other man had scooted himself up and was partially reclined on his mound of pillows. Harry gave Rafe one of those half smiles that would make Rafe's heart melt every time. As Harry allowed Rafe’s gentle ministrations cleaning the remnants of their lovemaking from Harry’s abdomen, how could Rafe not feel Harry had given more of himself to Rafe than anyone ever before. I know he loves me, ring or not.
When Rafe made to return to the bath, Harry grabbed at his arm pulling him back down to sit. “My silence was not a 'no'. I was just taken aback. I never dreamt in a million years you would actually want to be legally tied to this old battered relic. I had hoped but never thought it possible.”
Harry held the hand up with the ring on it. “This ring is yours. Well not yours literally, I mean symbolically. I put it on the first day I became Harrington Furnham, III. Harry loved his Eric and they were life partners. When I put on Harrington’s ring, I was assuming his life, a man still deeply in love with his lost love. Only my life’s partner and lost love was you, John. In my heart I was married to you. We still have things to work out though as Rafe and Harry, but when the time is right the answer is, yes.”
Rafe started raining kisses all over Harry’s face, laughing in relief and talking excitedly, “Not want you? I have wanted you since that day we sat on that bench overlooking the river.”
Rafe paused and looked Harry deeply into the other man’s pale blue eyes, “Battered? No, you are battle worn, we both are, and our fight is over.” Rafe bent his head to nuzzle at the scar under Harry’s shoulder then kissed it and raised his head, “I love and belong to the bravest man I’ve ever met. I am going to spend the rest of my life whatever we do, wherever we go proving that to you.”
***
One year later
The weather had turned cool and rainy by mid-September, the first weeks of the month New York City's sky was dark and ominous with a constant drizzle falling almost hourly from the gloomy gray. That morning, however, the clouds had broken free and scuttled across the sky on their way eastward. The late afternoon was cool but bright and clear, the sun shining down comfortably on the group of people sitting in white wooden chairs facing the river.
The group was small but everyone there loved the two men saying their vows under an arbor of latticed white covered with flowers of every shape and shade of blue or white woven into a garland of green. Sherry stood to Rafe’s right as his best friend and Martha on Harry’s left as his.
Lionel Fusco sat in the front row and was more than a bit misty eyed as he listened to his two friends declaring to one and all their undying love for each other. Who would have thought Mr. Tall, Dark, and Deadly would have to stop speaking every few words because he is too choked up to continue. He then looked at his fiancé standing next to Rafe. I’ll probably end up a blubbering fool when we say our own I dos.
Everyone applauded when Rafe pulled Harry into a tight embrace, thoroughly kissing him the moment the justice of the peace finished declaring, “I now pronounce you partners for life.”
The wedding celebration was held at the diner; Tom paid for and catered the entire affair for his former employee. He had offered Rafe part ownership and a full time manager position, but Rafe had turned both down. Harry had dipped into the insurance money to pay for Rafe’s business classes at the local community college and enrollment in the Institute of Culinary Education. Rafe had given his notice staying only long enough to train his replacement thoroughly. Even though Tom had tried everything he could think of to get Rafe to stay, he had in the end wished all the best to his former cook.
The newlyweds sat at their table of honor eating the fabulous fare and sipping champagne listening to toasts to their future from their friends. When it came time to cut the cake, Harry gave his new husband the traditional bite, smiling happily. Only when it was Rafe’s turn to do the same he purposely, accidentally covered Harry’s mouth with blue icing. Everyone hooted and Harry blushed furiously when Rafe made a show of kissing and licking the frosting away.
When the lights were turned down low Rafe pulled Harry into a small area of the diner that had been cleared for their first dance as a married couple. Anyone thinking the choice of the song, Bella Notte, for their wedding dance was a bit odd, quickly changed that notion seeing the happy couple lost in their own world. Their dance was merely a small shuffling of feet, holding one another tightly arms around the other’s waist, eyes closed with Rafe’s chin resting on the top of Harry’s spiky hair.
The first dance over, they coupled up with their respective best men when the music started again, changing mid-song to dance with the other’s partner. When the music finished Rafe grabbed Harry’s hand with his right, tugging him towards the exit, waving to everyone with his left. A few of the guests near the door held the two up long enough so the rest of the well-wishers could shower the couple with blue and white colored confetti as they made their way to a waiting limo, a rental of course.
A stretch limo pulling up in front of an older brownstone might have lifted a few eyebrows and caused tongues to wag, but everyone in the neighborhood was aware of Rafe and Harry’s marriage. There were a few of their nearest neighbors who stood out on their own porches who called out or whistled their approval when Rafe picked up a protesting Harry and carried him up their steps and into their brownstone. Thankfully good sense prevailed and Rafe set Harry down again so they could both take the longer stairway up to the apartment each on their own feet.
Once inside Rafe pulled Harry back into a tight embrace kissing him passionately while maneuvering them both towards the couch, but Harry baulked at settling on it, instead taking command of their movements pushing Rafe towards the bedroom.
There were only a few steps from that doorway to the bed, yet in that short distance they had divested each other of everything, Tuxedo jackets, shirts, shoes, slacks, socks, underwear, all tossed about the room.
When both were laying on the bed the explorations of sight and touch of each other’s bodies was as if the discoveries they made were something new, even though they had touched one another in the most intimate places except….
Rafe kissed and nibbled his way over to Harry’s ear before whispering in it, “I need you to touch me now, I want you in me.” Before Harry had a chance to pull away and voice his worries that he might not be able to satisfy Rafe in that way because of his hip, Rafe kissed them away, “I just need you to prepare me; I’ll take care of the rest.” Rafe reached into the bedside drawer, pulled out the supplies, handed Harry the bottle of lubricant and lay flat on his stomach.
Harry turned onto his good side and his fears disappeared as he squeezed a drop of lubricant on his forefinger. This I can do. Rafe spread his legs open to give Harry better access to insert his finger to the first knuckle into Rafe’s opening. With gentleness and patience, Harry stimulated Rafe’s pleasure by placing kisses on Rafe’s back or by caressing the bump of Rafe’s prostate with a his forefinger. With every moan of pleasure he heard from Rafe, Harry continued preparing Rafe for his impressive width. When Harry added a third finger to circle and stretch Rafe’s ring of muscle, Rafe moaned almost in desperation, “Enough, I’m ready!”
When Harry pulled his hands free, Rafe lifted himself up to his knees and helped Harry arrange himself to lie on his back on the mound of pillows. Rafe opened the condom packet, with hands shaky from need and want rolled the condom onto Harry’s stiff and throbbing cock. Rafe straddled Harry’s hips, waited as Harry held his cock head to Rafe’s opening then pushed himself down until he felt the head pass his ring. Harry moved his hands one on each of Rafe’s buttocks urging him to go slow, but once he felt Harry inside him he pushed himself all the way down Harry’s shaft until his ass touched Harry’s balls.
Harry’s face was red from exertion. He needed to keep still until Rafe was ready to move. The pleasure engulfing his cock was scorching hot and tighter than any vise. He clenched the mounds of ass in his hands to stave off the urge to thrust up into that bliss. The euphoria was emotional as well as physical. The idea and reality of Rafe accepting him into that last bastion of personal liberty was heady and overwhelming. They were one, two halves of a whole. There were no secrets between them.
Rafe for his part was trying to breathe and think properly with the rolling crush of emotion and gratification that swamped him. Despite their many conversations on the matter, Rafe had still harbored the idea that this act would be for Harry alone and Rafe would just be enduring it. He had never been more wrong in his life.
As Rafe lifted himself up, the glide of Harry’s shaft against newly awakened nerves brought an intoxicating buzz. Rafe’s ears rang and his face became pink with a deep blush of arousal. He pulled off only as far as half of Harry’s length to plunge down quickly and get that burst of extravagant pleasure from his prostate. The plump, fat head of Harry’s cock nudged the button with just the right force and heat to spring white stars to Rafe’s vision.
Their motion became frenzied after that. Harry used his hands to pull Rafe up and down as well as tracing the contracting muscles of Rafe’s chest. Harry squeezed a nipple or grabbed a breast, anything to telegraph the intense sensation and joy he was feeling.
The subsequent thrusts and bounces were a blur to Rafe’s sex addled brain. All he knew was the need and the lust. The climbing toward orgasm was more internal than Rafe ever experienced but it wasn't uncomfortable just new.
Without warning, Harry’s cock jerked inside Rafe and a rush of liquid fire filled the column that was impaling him. Rafe rocked into Harry’s orgasm and quaked all over.
Harry caught his breath and stroked Rafe’s cock furiously. The added stimulation outside himself was all it took for Rafe to spill into Harry’s hand and all over Harry’s stomach.
Rafe dismounted in a puddle of overstimulated but satisfied goo.
***
The morning sun shining brightly through the bedroom window awoke Rafe to his first day as Gianni Rafael Rissole-Furnham. He turned to hug his new husband to him but only found cool sheets and an empty pillow mound. Rafe found his boxers that Harry had stripped off Rafe’s hips last night before tossing them along with the rest of their shed clothing. He slipped them back on before leaving the empty bedroom to seek out his absent mate.
The bathroom door was open and the room was empty with no sound of running water coming from the shower. A glance into the living room revealed it was empty also. Rafe was going to head for the kitchen when the creak of the old office chair in Jack’s bedroom pulled him instead to the door at the end of the hall.
Rafe stood in the doorway for a moment to see Harry sitting at his desk dressed only in the old terry cloth robe that Harry kept hanging on the bathroom door. An image of Harold wearing a dressing gown made of some exotic material costing more than Harry’s entire wardrobe flashed briefly in Rafe’s mind. Then Jack lifted his head with a greeting woof and Harry turned the chair around to smile at the man standing at the door. The untouchable computer genius billionaire in his bespoke suits was just a memory, this man in his ratty old robe was the solid reality Rafe had longed for, his connection to the world.
Harry motioned Rafe over to the desk before turning his chair back around to shuffle more papers around. When Rafe stood next to the chair Harry handed him the deed to 125+ acres, tract 15 N/W, in Linn County, Iowa. Rafe held the document, “This is your father’s place?”
“It was Harold Carlson’s father’s farm. Now it belongs to Harrington and Gianni Furnham.” Harry then handed him the deed to a cafe located in Lassiter, Iowa. “Whenever you are ready to go our home awaits us.”
Harry had accepted the teaching position in Queens, but as Rafe and he had settled into their new lives Harry had opened up about who Harold had really been. Harry had confided in Rafe his life’s history including his real name, place of birth, and where he was raised.
The wistfulness in Harry’s voice talking about his father, growing up on the farm gave Rafe an idea. He was planning to open his own eating establishment when his classes were finished. Why did it have to be in the city? New York really held nothing for either of them anymore. The idea of a small town farming community appealed to Rafe. He could start his own diner there. There was too much competition in New York but Iowa would be lovely with its farmer's market and small town routines.
Once Rafe had convinced Harry this was a future he truly wanted for the two of them, Harry had enthusiastically embraced their plan to move away. He had told Rafe to concentrate on continuing his business classes and culinary training while Harry would see to the planning of their move.
Harry’s soft voice brought Rafe back to the present, “I wanted to surprise you. Consider these my wedding gifts to you.”
Rafe placed the documents back down on the desk and then turned the chair around and knelt in front of his husband, “This is the third time you have given me a home, but this is the one I’ll treasure most of all.” Rafe rubbed his hands up and down Harry’s thighs confusion written all over his face as he searched his partner’s eyes, “But your father’s farm, the cafe, how did you...where did you...?”
Harry explained that after he had left Iowa the running of the family farm by his father after twenty-five years had been taken over of by a series of managers for over the past three decades. The last and longest had lived on the farm for twenty years before retiring. Harold Carlson had been owner in absentia during that span of time. Harry had been carefully orchestrated the sale of the property through correspondence on paper only using a third party and nothing electronically, from himself to Harry Furnham. The purchase of the café was handled basically the same way. The only thing of digital record was the transfer of funds from Harrington Furnham's insurance settlement account. “I never touched any of the money except twice; I never felt it was mine,” Harry admitted. “The real Harrington is being well cared for, wherever he is, and I now believe that money was meant for me, for us.”
Rafe stood pulling Harry up out of the chair along with him. He slid his arms under the robe to caress the warm skin covering Harry’s sides and then kissed him, whispering against those lips, “Thank you.”
The combination congratulations/going away party a month later turned bittersweet saying goodbye to dear friends. Rafe had graduated with honors from the culinary school. Tom had thrown the party in one last gasp try to lure Rafe back to the diner, but when Rafe and Harry had announced they were moving to Iowa and Rafe was the new owner of the Goldenrod Cafe in Lassiter, everyone wished them well, Tom the most enthusiastic of the well-wishers.
***
Lassiter Iowa
It was a hot late summer evening, the sounds of locusts buzzing as they shed the discarded husks of their summer home echoed from tree to tree. The two men sat on the porch swing sipping iced green tea watching their Malinois chase the fireflies fluttering in the waning light before it succumbed to the veil of descending darkness.
The corn stalks in the fields surrounding the house were tall and green, just beginning to turn brown as the fall harvest neared. The local agricultural college had out done the previous summer; word was the experimental plantings this year were projected to far surpass last year’s yields exponentially. The Furnhams had donated the use of the farm's acreage to the state run college in exchange for breaks on land taxes.
Rafe put his arm across the shoulders of his husband of two years. He rubbed Harry’s shoulder familiarly before asking, “So, you’re full time now at Lassiter Senior High?” Harry had started out in the same way as he had in NYC by taking substitute assignments not only in the Linn County school district but neighboring communities as well. When Lassiter High School’s math teacher of several decades retired, Harry had been offered and accepted the position. His meeting earlier that afternoon had been mere formality. Harold never dreamed he’d ever return to his alma mater as faculty.
“Yes, but it seems that we have more of a reason to celebrate other than my new job. Why didn’t you tell me Lassiter’s business bureau is giving you an award for The Machine’s contribution to the business community?”
The Machine, Rafe’s cafe, was the best place in town for coffee. He catered to the farm community by opening around 5am or earlier. The farmers in the area congregated almost daily there to discuss just about everything farming related. Although the interstate passed by Lassiter's outskirts a half-mile away, the sight of huge green farming equipment, one in the form of a harvester three stories high pulled customers in. Of course, some people ate at the cafe then left Lassiter to continue on in their travels, but many stayed to peruse the small shops on the town’s main street.
Rafe uttered a small oath half in jest, “I wanted to surprise you.”
Harry patted Rafe on the knee, laughing, “Well it was a surprise alright. We should celebrate. How about we go to dinner and a movie in Des Moines this weekend?”
Rafe nodded, “Sunday evening is fine, but I’m planning to work on the roof the rest of this week.”
Harry tsked, “You are taking on too much. How do you plan on redoing an entire roof by yourself and run a restaurant?”
“Well, being owner and manager does have its perks. I gave everyone the week off with pay. Lassiter can survive the week with The Machine being closed for a few days. Our roof won't survive another winter.”
Harold settled in next to his beloved, the men watching Bear continue to nip and jump at the elusive fireflies, with the old wooden swing rocking them both. John sighed, “I think somehow we both ended up dead Harold, because this must be heaven.”
There was a battle going on somewhere in the world but as the two men kissed their only worry was the coming winter and a roof in need of repair.
Finis
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five
Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Epilogue