Fire and Flint

by Andrew Grey

  “A complaint filed this morning with the judicial ethics board against the person we believe is the source of your information.” Pierre stood tall and majestic.

  “I see,” Judge Taylor murmured, flipping through the pages. “And who filed those charges?” He seemed to think this was a play of some kind.

  “If you turn to the final page, you will see the signature and name are those of Judge Fortier. Judge Crawford began receiving threatening letters. The sheriff’s department was able to track down the source of those letters. By then, a clear picture of influence-peddling and cronyism emerged centering around Judge Crawford. The investigation is still ongoing. But given the fact that Mr. Erichsohn not only works for Judge Crawford, but also found evidence within court files that implicated Judge Crawford, as detailed in the complaint to the ethics board, we were afraid that he might take vengeful actions against Jordan. It turns out we were correct.”

  To say Judge Taylor looked shocked was putting it mildly. He paged through the ethics complaint, mouth hanging open.

  “I spoke with the sheriff this morning, and he is currently working with the county prosecutor’s office to determine which criminal charges will be filed. This is not only judicial misconduct.” Pierre stepped closer, taking Jordan’s hand. “Your Honor, Jordan and Jeremiah are a family, and in the last few weeks, that family has been tested in ways you can’t possibly imagine, through events that are not their fault. Jordan has worked with law enforcement to help bring to light multiple miscarriages of justice, putting his job and quite possibly his family at risk to do so.” He squeezed his hand. “It’s my opinion that he showed all the best qualities of a parent, as well as a citizen.”

  Damn. Jordan squeezed Pierre’s hand, sharing a warm gaze before turning back to the judge. He loved this man with everything he had.

  “Is this true?” Judge Taylor asked.

  “Yes. I’m sure more details will come out as the investigation progresses.” Jordan looked at Pierre. “I was scared to death most of the time.” He turned back to the judge. “I was scared because I know the authority Judge Crawford has, or did have. But I did what was right, with Pierre’s help and strength. So I hope you’ll agree to let Jeremiah and me become a family. It’s what we both want, and then if Pierre agrees, eventually we’ll look to make my family of two into a family of three.” Jordan swallowed hard, realizing he was declaring his love in front of everyone, including the judge.

  Judge Taylor cleared his throat. “I see.”

  “Your Honor,” Vincent said, “I believe the orders of adoption are ready for your signature. They have been sent to your office. I submit that there’s no reason to delay.”

  JORDAN WALKED out of the courtroom, holding Pierre’s hand, as Vincent followed. He tried not to smile. They went to the room where Donald and Jeremiah waited.

  Jeremiah jumped up as soon as he saw him. “Can we go home now?”

  Jordan picked him up, hugging him tightly. “Yes. We can go home now, and we don’t have to come back here ever again. The judge signed the adoption papers. You’re my son and I’m your dad… officially.”

  “Forever?” Jeremiah asked, bouncing in Jordan’s arms.

  Pierre put his arm around Jordan’s shoulders. “Yes. Forever. Jordan is going to be your daddy always.”

  Jeremiah looked up from his shoulder. “Are you going to be my dad too? You kiss Daddy all the time, so I know you love him.”

  Pierre chuckled. “I do, and I love you too. So let’s say that I hope to be your dad too someday.”

  “Why not now?” Jeremiah stuck out his lower lip.

  “What we’re saying is that Pierre and I are going to date.” Jordan reached out, and Pierre took his hand. “That doesn’t mean that Pierre doesn’t love us. It just means that we want to really get to know each other before we make it official.”

  “It’s grown-up stuff,” Pierre added.

  Jeremiah shook his head. “Grown-ups are weird.” He leaned on Jordan’s shoulders, hugging him tightly, and that seemed to be the end of that discussion.

  “Do you have to go back to the station?” Jordan asked, and Pierre nodded.

  “The paperwork for all of this is going to be mountainous, and I’m the lead on the case.” He bent down to Jeremiah. “You take good care of your daddy for me, and I’ll come by after work if you’d like and read to you.”

  “Rabbit?” Jeremiah asked.

  “Yes.” Pierre shifted his lips to Jordan’s ear. “And maybe I’ll find a story I can read to you. One that’s for grown-ups.” He kissed Jordan right behind the ear and then pulled away. “Be careful.”

  Jordan had every intention of it. “You ready to go home? To your permanent, officially adopted home?”

  “Can we get sorbet first?”

  Jordan hugged his son tighter, closing his eyes as he rocked back and forth. “We can stop wherever you want.”

  Vincent placed his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, and he turned slowly. “The court will file the papers today, and I’ll follow up to make sure everything is legal. Once they’re available, I’ll bring over official copies of the adoption records so you have them.” He grinned. “Family law has its ups and down, and I’m happy to say that this is one of the very best kind of days.” He waved as he hurried down the white corridor, and Jeremiah waved back.

  Jordan could hardly believe how things had worked out.

  “Is Grammy coming with us?”

  Jordan turned to his mom, who had just walked over, as he set Jeremiah down.

  “I’m so proud of you.” She hugged him. “You looked so calm until I saw Pierre take your hand.”

  “I was scared half to death.” He hugged his mom again. “Meet us at Brusters. We’ll get ice cream to celebrate.”

  His mother rolled her eyes. “Somehow I think this is only going to be the first celebration of the day.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Jordan blushed. Dang, he really needed to get that under control. Not that he could argue with her, but no one wanted their mother hinting around about their sex life.

  “A celebration? You mean, a party? What kind of party? I want to come!” Jeremiah danced ahead, singing at the top of his lungs about going to a party.

  “No party. Grammy was being silly. We’re going to have an ice cream party now.” Jordan held out his hand, and Jeremiah took it as they approached the elevator to leave. As they emerged from the courthouse, the world seemed brighter and Jordan’s shoulders lighter. He was going to have to figure out what to do for a job, though he hoped that whoever ultimately replaced Judge Crawford would keep him on, but for now, things were good.

  AND THAT night after dinner, things got better. Jeremiah asked a million questions about being adopted and if things were going to be different. Was Pierre going to move in? Was he really Jordan’s son forever and ever? Those were questions Jordan was happy to answer over and over again. Pierre read him his story, and he was out like a light. Jordan closed his door, and Pierre wrapped his arms around his waist.

  “Let’s not watch television,” Pierre whispered, guiding him to the bedroom and closing the door. “I promised you a story.”

  “Oh?” Jordan was curious what Pierre had in mind. “This isn’t from some magazine, is it?” He hoped it wasn’t porn. That really wasn’t his kind of thing.

  “Nope.” He pulled a book off the bedside table and handed it to him.

  “I read the first one of these a while ago.” Jordan fingered the copy of More Tales of the City. “I loved them, but never got around to reading the rest of them.”

  Pierre nudged him toward the bed. “I saw that. I thought we could read the second book together.” He took off his shoes and socks and shrugged off his shirt, then dug in his bag and came up with a pair of shorts. Pierre slipped off his pants and tugged on the gray shorts, which hugged his thighs enticingly. He sat on the bed, propping himself up with pillows. Pierre set the book on his lap and crossed his arms over his ample chest, waiting, an inviting little crooked
smile turning up his lips.

  Jordan tugged open his second drawer for a pair of shorts of his own. His weren’t going to be as enticing as Pierre’s. After all, he didn’t have his thick legs. Jordan’s gaze slid up Pierre’s legs to the bulge where they met, and he forgot what he’d been doing. He turned away, remembering the shorts in front of him, and stripped down and slid on a pair of soft blue ones. Then he closed the drawer and joined Pierre on the bed, thankful for air-conditioning. The room was slightly chilly, which made for comfortable cuddling.

  “The Valentine was a handmade pastiche of Victorian cherubs….”

  Pierre read the opening words in his amazing voice, and Jordan settled in close, listening, his breathing evening out as Pierre spoke. Jordan never liked the sound of his own voice. It didn’t sit well with him, but Pierre’s deep, resonant tone was made for storytelling. No wonder Jeremiah loved it when he read to him.

  Jordan let his eyes drift closed as the story wove around him, a world he didn’t know and wasn’t personally familiar with building piece by piece, brick by brick, until it was vivid and real inside his head. After a couple chapters, Jordan slipped off the bed and hurried out of the room to the refrigerator to grab a couple of beers before returning, the bed bouncing as he leapt on in his haste to hear more of the story. He knew they weren’t going to be able to read it all tonight, but that was fine. They opened their beers, each taking a drink, and then Pierre placed one arm around him, tugging Jordan closer without pausing as he relayed the narrative.

  “This is nice, but I don’t understand why we’re just sitting here reading.” Jordan rested his hand on Pierre’s warm thigh, caressing the muscle, letting his fingers wander. “I mean, we have a lot to celebrate and….”

  Pierre set the book upside down next to him. “Anticipation is something that can never be underestimated.” He turned to Jordan, eyes blazing with heat. Then he reached, marked his place, and searched farther back in the book, but he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. “There’s a passage back here when Michael turns to Jon. They’re in bed, much like this, holding each other, and Michael says he always wanted someone he could do nothing in bed with.” Pierre tugged him closer. “You and I could have sex if we wanted. But see, I want to make love with you in bed, sleep with you, talk with you, rock your world, all right here in this bed. I want to go to sleep and wake up next to you, hold you when you’re scared or worried, and even play with Jeremiah in the morning, in this bed. But I also want to read to you… and do absolutely nothing at all with you… in bed… our bed.”

  Pierre set the book aside once again, turning to Jordan, and pulled him closer until their lips met. “Now, back to the first item on the list.”

  Epilogue

  SUMMER GAVE way to fall and then winter.

  “Are we going to Grammy’s for Christmas?” Jeremiah asked as he raced into the living room and slid to a halt at the tree. He looked over the presents, counting them on his fingers. “There’s more.”

  “You know the rules. You need to leave the presents alone. Santa is bringing some things early so his sleigh doesn’t get overloaded. You don’t want him coming to take things back, do you?” Jordan went for a stern look, and Jeremiah stepped backward, away from the tree. “And yes. We’re going to pack up everything and spend the night at Grammy’s after Pierre gets done with his shift.”

  Pierre, through a miracle, had tomorrow, Christmas Day, off. Jordan hadn’t wanted his mother to be alone, and this time of year, he wanted as much family around him as possible. Jordan also wanted the full Santa Claus experience for Jeremiah, and that meant a fireplace and stockings, which already hung at his mother’s.

  Pierre’s parents were planning a visit for New Year’s, and Jordan was nervous as all get-out. Jordan had spoken to both Pierre’s parents on the phone a few times, but it would be the first time they’d met, and he hoped to make a good impression. Jordan knew the whole gay thing was hard for them. He put that out of his mind for now. He had to get through Christmas first, and Jeremiah was so full of energy.

  “Pierre’s home!” Jeremiah cried and settled on the sofa in front of the television. It was the first time he’d sat still all day.

  “Hi,” Jordan said as Pierre came in the door still in his uniform coat, snow melting on his shoulders.

  “It’s just starting out there.” Pierre took off the coat and shook it before hanging it up. “The wind is coming up too, and the weather report is calling for four to six inches, so it looks like a white Christmas.” Pierre smiled. “I think it’s been quite a while since we had one of those.” He stepped up to Jordan and pulled him into a warm hug. “God, you feel good.”

  “Slow day?” The fact that Pierre hadn’t had a lot to think about was evidenced by the stiffness pressing against Jordan’s hip. He closed his eyes, wishing they were alone so he could take care of things for him, but that would need to wait until they went to bed.

  “Yes, thank goodness. It’s been cold, and the area is pretty quiet. The court is shut down, and no one wants their loved ones sitting in jail. This season of goodwill seems to have affected almost everyone.” Pierre cupped Jordan’s cheeks. His hands were chilled, but Jordan didn’t mind. “What do we need to do?”

  “Mom is already cooking dinner, so we should get the presents packed up. Jeremiah has had his bag packed for most of the day. I have one for the two of us. Go ahead and change, and then we’ll load the car and get going.”

  Pierre drew him closer for a kiss. “All right. I won’t be long,” he said, and headed for the bedroom.

  Jordan hunted up some of the large shopping bags he’d saved and carefully packed up the presents under Jeremiah’s excitedly watchful eyes. He set the bags together in the living room. “Go get your overnight bag and put it right here. Then you need to put on your coat, hat, and gloves before we go outside.” He got dressed to go out himself and carried a load of gifts to the car.

  Jordan and Jeremiah got everything pretty much loaded. Pierre brought the last of the gifts and their bag with him and then situated Jeremiah in the back seat while Jordan went inside, turned out the lights, and locked the door.

  “Ready to go to Grammy’s?” Jordan asked, closing his car door, and Pierre backed out of the driveway and headed for the main road toward Mechanicsburg.

  Snowflakes by the thousands cut through the headlight beams, the pavement covered with tire-packed white. They moved slowly, the tires crunching, cutting their own path through the deepening snow.

  “I wonder what Santa will bring me?” Jeremiah asked, bouncing in his seat.

  Jordan hadn’t brought the Santa gifts home when he bought them. He’d taken them right to his mother’s, and she had seen to them. The Xbox he’d been asking for was there, along with a few smaller things.

  “Santa isn’t going to forget you,” Jordan told him, reaching across the console, Pierre’s hand sliding into his. Jordan didn’t care what he got for Christmas. As far as he was concerned, he’d already gotten everything he wanted.

  Pierre had moved in with them two months ago, and the three of them were learning how to live and move forward as a family. Jeremiah was happy and healthy. Judge Fortier’s clerk had gotten an opportunity with the state in September, and Judge Fortier had hired Jordan to be his permanent assistant. Everything was working out. At least for him. Not so for Judge Crawford, who had been removed from the bench in late September. The ripples from his dealings were still being felt and would be for quite some time as old cases were reviewed.

  “Are we going to be okay?” Jordan asked Pierre as the car slipped a little.

  “Yes.” He squeezed Jordan’s hand and pulled his away to keep two hands on the wheel as they approached the outskirts of town, the wind now picking up, adding more snow to the air.

  Jordan breathed deeply as Jeremiah watched out the window. “All the lights are pretty,” he said as they continued past the wreath-decorated lampposts and electric poles with stars and angels in white.
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  Pierre found a parking spot in front of Jordan’s mother’s house and pulled in. Jeremiah jumped out as soon as they stopped and raced to the front door. Jordan and Pierre unloaded everything and took it in, then closed the front door, leaving the cold outside and the warmth of holiday cheer and family inside.

  “Sweetheart, I was getting worried.” His mother hugged him tightly, then Pierre, and hung up their coats. “Come in. I didn’t get a fire started. I thought Pierre could do that for me. The wood is just outside the back door. And I’m making cookies.” She took Jeremiah to help her with that, and Jordan unpacked the presents and took the bags up to the rooms they would use. It was perfect, and grew more so in an hour when the fire crackled in the hearth and they all sat in the living room with the tree on, presents bursting from under it.

  “I think I have a present that Jeremiah needs to open,” his mother declared. “You always got to open a gift on Christmas Eve, so I think he should.” She levered herself out of the chair and walked through the house to the kitchen pantry. Jordan turned to Pierre, wondering what was going on, but he shrugged as well.

  Jeremiah watched as she returned, jumping to his feet. “A puppy!” He raced to her as she held a little golden ball of fur not much bigger than her hands.

  “He’s a terrier mix and isn’t going to get too big.” She handed him to Jeremiah, who cradled him in his arms, the pup licking his chin as he laughed.

  “Is he really for me?” Jeremiah asked, turning to Jordan.

  “Did you know?” Pierre asked, and Jordan shook his head. They had talked about getting Jeremiah a dog in the spring, but Mom had beaten them to it.

  “My friend Gladys’s daughter’s dog had pups, and they said they’d give me one for Jeremiah.” His mother clapped her hands together, eyes watering as Jeremiah sat on the floor, the pup crawling all over his legs, tail wagging like crazy.

  Jordan sat back in the chair, smiling.