"He's absolutely adorable!" Bradley enthused, "but you're no 'Auntie Mame'."

"And your point is?"

"He needs to be in school, not traipsing around the world. How old is he?"

"Don't know, perhaps sixteen," I said, squirming uncomfortably, as Bradley's BMW sped across the causeway to Miami Beach. "What do you propose I do with him?"

"Prep school! You've got the money to send him anywhere, my dear. You need to concentrate on running your business, and not racing off into the Amazon jungles."

"Ouch!"

"Do not send me away, Papa," piped up a sleepy voice from the back seat.

Bradley stared at me, mouthing the word 'papa' silently as he broke into a broad grin.

"Not to worry, Miguel," I assured him, "you can stay with me as long as you like."

"I never want to leave you," he sighed, closing his eyes again.

Bradley ushered us into the pede-a-terre with his usual flamboyance.

"And this breathtaking view across the intracoastal is the 'Magic City'," he explained to Miguel with a sweep of his arm, indicating the colorful lights of Miami's skyscrapers.

"One room or two?" Bradley whispered to me as Miguel stepped out to the balcony.

"Two, of course!"

"Your own private room with a view," Bradley quipped, showing Miguel the southeast bedroom which commanded a breathtaking panorama of South Beach.

Miguel looked up with a worried expression, glancing at Bradley and back to me for reassurance.

"Don't panic, my dear," Bradley assured him with a sly wink to me. "Your 'papa' will be right next door."

Miguel showered and changed for bed while Bradley and I indulged in a Bombay martini, Sapphire label of course.

"He seems pretty dependent on you for a street kid," Bradley observed. "I thought they were self reliant little urchins."

"Apparently he was 'recruited' from the streets shortly after his mother died from an overdose. If he's lucky he had no time to pick up bad habits."

"What about the stint in the male whorehouse you told me about, darling?"

I shuddered with thoughts of what may have happened to him if Sylvain hadn't intervened.

"How cute you look in your little white robe," Bradley remarked as Miguel padded into the living on bare feet, his hair shiny and slicked back from the shower.

Wordlessly he curled up on the sofa at my side.

"Disneyland!" he said with a grin pointing out the lights of Miami through the glass wall before us.

"Not quite," I chuckled. "Miami is called the 'Magic City'; Disneyworld is called 'The Magic Kingdom!"

To connect with Miguel, I'd have to start viewing the world through the eyes of a child. I had a lot to learn about fatherhood.

"How old are you, Miguel?" I asked.

"Fourteen," he replied proudly. "Now I am a man!"

"You certainly are!" I agreed, nearly choking on my hasty swallow of gin.

We both began to yawn from our exhaustive plane trip and I ushered Miguel off to his bedroom, soon following to my own. During the night I felt a warm body press close to mine, an arm thrown across my chest.

"Well, my dears, brunch on Ocean Drive?" Bradley offered early next morning.

A short walk from Bradley's building brought us out onto the showpiece of Miami Beach, the Art Deco District. Pastel hued hotels of the 30s and 40s restored to pristine condition formed the background for a burgeoning photo shoot and modeling trade.

"On that very step," Bradley pointed out to Miguel, "is where the famous fashion designer Versace bought the farm!"

"Bought the farm?" Miguel scratched his head in perplexity.

"I think we've both seen enough death for one trip," I scolded Bradley.

"Just wait 'til you get home, my dear. Oops! I promised not to say anything."

"Out with it!" I said with a cold stare.

"Well, better for you to be prepared. Your houseman Jaime was killed by an intruder the day you left Jamaica."

"Oh, my poor little Jaime," I wailed in astonishment. "Did they catch the creep?"

"I believe you and your boyfriend already evened the score, my dear," Bradley said softly.

"Mauricio did it?"

He just nodded in reply.

So much for a holiday in Miami. We booked a flight to Montego Bay that very afternoon.

"Oh, Nathaniel, I'm so sorry!" I cried out, running toward the big rastah man waiting at the gate. "I just found out this morning or I would have come straight away."

"I know, Rick. We all made the decision not to call and spoil your trip. There's nothing you could have done anyway."

He somberly walked Miguel and me out to the Bentley, double-parked at the terminal entrance.

"So this is your son," he said cheerfully, giving Miguel a little squeeze on the shoulder.

Miguel regarded him with suspicious eyes.

We all rode home in the front seat, no easy feat even in a Bentley. I pulled Miguel close, my arm around him, so we'd all fit. The top of his head just came to my chin; I couldn't resist a little kiss to his crown of shiny black hair. He smiled up in contented silence.

Our car rolled up the long dusty gravel drive bisecting the former cane fields, now dried out and dormant. The huge limestone house appeared straight ahead, a crown jewel in an emerald lawn. December sun was plunging toward the sea, shooting rays of gold against the smooth stone facade.

"We're home, Miguel," I whispered.

"You live here?" he asked in awe-struck voice.

"We live here," I corrected.

Jeremie was waiting for us as we pulled into the circular car park.

"Mistuh Rick, I'se sho' glad yo' come back," he avowed in somber voice.

I embraced him warmly, setting off a flood of tears from his eyes. He sobbed quietly into my chest as I held him tightly. I tried to soothe him with comforting words, but my own voice choked with emotion.

"I'll take the bags over to the cottage," Nathaniel offered.

I thanked him with my eyes.

"Miguel, go with Nathaniel. I'll be along in a minute."

I walked with Jeremie back to the Great House. We entered through the arched opening at ground level into a lower hallway leading to my office and the kitchen.

"Do you want to talk about anything, Jeremie?"

"No, suh."

"Where did they take him?" I asked quietly.

"He be buried in the church yard nex' to the mistress."

"We're all going to miss him. I'm so sorry, Jeremie."

We sat at the work table in the darkened kitchen, each musing on his own memories of Jaime.

"That be yo' new boyfrien'?" he asked suddenly.

"No, that's my son Miguel."

His eyes opened wide with surprise.

"You be married and gay?"

"No, Jeremie, I'm not married in that way," I said, surprised at his astuteness. "His mother died and left him alone on the streets. I sort of adopted him and brought him here to live with us."

"He gonna help me in the kitchen like Jaime did?"

"He's only fourteen, so he's got to go to school. We'll find someone to help you," I assured him with a little hug. "I know you can't do all this work alone."

"He be a gay boy, too?"

"I don't know, but that's his decision to make when the time is right," I sighed. "You want to meet him?"

"Sho' do, let’s go!"

We went back out the way we had come in, not going up to the main floor where they had found Jaime's body. I wasn't ready to see the library - not yet!

Lights were on in the cottage, sending a cheery warmth to greet us as we strolled across the darkened landscape.

Nathaniel had stowed our gear in the bedroom and was busy in the kitchen. Miguel was sitting quietly in the living room, looking a bit lost. He brightened as we entered the room.

"Miguel, this is Jeremie. He helps us take care of our guests," I explained.

They regarded each other silently, a sudden shyness setting in.

"Jeremie, tell Miguel about all the things we have here at Sugar Hill," I suggested.

He looked questioningly at me.

"Like the beach, the new swimming pool. You know, stuff like that," I smiled.

With sudden recognition, he started describing our surroundings as he sat down next to Miguel. I slipped out of the room to join Nathaniel in the kitchen.

"What you up to, big man?" I asked, slipping my hands around his muscular waist.

"Fixing you three a little supper unless you have something else in mind," he grinned.

"Guess I better not. The kid thinks I belong to Sylvain."

"I don't see any bruises," he said, turning and examining me closely.

"We got past that," I chuckled. "I may have left him with a few bruises."

"Don't want to know any details, thank you," he joked in return.

"I need your advice," I said with a serious note.

"Step into my office," he invited, sitting at my old pine plank table.

"We sure do a lot of conferring and planning in the kitchen," I noted.

"My rural upbringing. A planters life is centered around the kitchen table."

"Whatever that means."

I was stalling, not knowing what to ask.

"Spit it out, Rick."

"About Miguel, what am I supposed to do next? How do I become a father?"

"Someone said, 'It takes a whole village to raise a child', and we're your village - me, Tommie, Phillippe, and Jeremie."

I absorbed his words with slow realization of their meaning.

"You mean like a committee, a board of directors?"

"Perhaps an advisory committee, and only when you ask for our help."

"Fair enough! Now how about a school for Miguel? Can you recommend one?"

"I presume his formal education has a few holes to fill? Like the language barrier?"

"At the very least," I agreed.

"He'd be swallowed up in a school of his peers. He needs private tutoring."

"You got someone in mind?"

"Just the man for the job, my cousin Kendall."

"He a teacher?"

"His parents were professors at Harvard. He was born in Boston, studied education there before branching off into nuclear physics. A genius."

"What brings him here?" I asked, puzzled.

"Disillusioned with the corporate world. Dropped out and came back here to find his roots, paint, and search for the meaning of life."

"You think he'd be interested in helping Miguel?"

"I'll convince him this is just what he needs to give his own a life new meaning and perspective - by helping someone else."

"What's that burnin' smell?" Jeremie asked, poking his head through the kitchen door.

Nathaniel's head snapped around in surprise.

"Just kiddin'," Jeremie laughed.

"Guess I'd better get back to work," Nathaniel grinned. "Got a couple of hungry guys to feed." He rose from the table, then whispered, "I'll take care of that other matter first thing in the morning."

With supper finished, Nathaniel and I slipped out to the verandah for a Blue Mountain coffee and a snifter of Courvosier.

"Jeremie seems to be getting along quite well with Miguel," Nathaniel noted, "but he sure misses his cousin Jaime."

"Miguel fills the void," I agreed.

They were chattering away in the living room and hadn't noticed our absence.

"Hate to leave you stuck with the dishes, but I've got to get back to Rose Hall," Nathaniel announced rising to his feet.

"Been stuck with a dirty kitchen before; I will survive!"

"Tell Jeremie I'll see him in the morning."

"Maybe he should stay the night here with Miguel. I need a good nights sleep - alone."

"I was wondering about that. Kind of cramps your style with a kid around all the time."

"I'm going to be a role model for Miguel," I vowed. "No more sex and games."

"Yeah, that'll be the day," Nathaniel said with a wink. "See ya later, Rick."

I walked around the outside of the cottage and back in through the kitchen door to clean up the debris left over from dinner preparations. The sounds of laughter from the living room were encouraging. If only the rest of the world could get along as well as these two boys from different countries, different cultures.

"You guys want to camp out in the living room tonight?" I offered, carrying a tray of hot cocoa in to them. "The sofa unfolds into a bed or you can carry blankets out on the porch like I used to do when I was your age."

I grinned with sudden recollections - a sleepover on the porch had led to my first same sex experience with an older cousin. Miguel would have to chart his own course through adolescence, just as I did.

"See you in the morning," I called out as I slipped between the cool crisp sheets of my own bed.

Soon fast asleep, I dreamt of Sylvain and our final moments together in the jungles of eastern Ecuador. Hands wrapped around me from behind and a smooth slim body pressed in close. Warm moist lips kissed me gently on the nape of the neck bringing a familiar stirring of sexual response as I lengthened inch by inch. Turning on my back, I brought the hands slowly down my chest and abdomen and placed them around my hardening manhood. An eager mouth soon followed the hands, drawing my throbbing member deep into the slippery depths. Low murmurs of content accompanied the eager worshipping by a talented tongue. The sideways twisting and sucking quickly drew a deep orgasm to the surface forcing streams of milky liquid to gush forth. An eager mouth swallowed all and slowly, sensually kissed lightly up across my stomach and chest, coming to rest on my own feverish lips. We kissed deeply and passionately then gently parted. The smooth silky haired head dropped down to my chest, resting lightly as I drifted back into a deeper dreamless sleep.

"I love you," a young voice said sleepily, "and I never want to leave you."