"You ran back to camp screaming that your daddy had been turned into a swamp monster," his mother said, smiling brightly for a few seconds. "He was so good with all you kids. After he was gone, I didn't know what to do. I had three kids, the oldest of which was eight. And to have him die that way." She paused and her expression shifted to the one Peter was used to: hard and cold. "I don't think this is a good subject for us to be discussing."

"Why not, Mom?" Peter pressed. "I've been seeing a psychologist so he can help me deal with what happened."

"That's good, I guess," she said with almost no feeling. "But nothing will change what happened, and there isn't anything that will bring him back."

"I know. But maybe we all need to forgive each other for what happened and the way we've treated each other. What happened to Dad was a long time ago, and you raised all of us the best you could." Peter decided he wouldn't say anything he didn't have to. Let his mother believe what she wanted.

"Forgive what? Shooting your father?" she asked, becoming very agitated.

"How about forgiving Dad," Peter countered, and his mother's eyes went wide. "He was the one who had a loaded gun sitting around. You always said you didn't want it in the house, so you told him to get rid of it. But he didn't. He hid it in his shed... and it was loaded. We thought it was a toy. We were children." Peter paused and glanced at Luka, who nodded encouragingly. "It isn't fair of you to have blamed us all these years for what happened when we were that young."

"Not fair?" his mother said. "I'll tell you what isn't fair. Your grandparents hated your father. They kept pushing me to marry the son of your grandfather's business partner. Jacob was a real weasel. I hated him, but they didn't care. Your father loved me and fought for me with your grandfather. He even threatened to take me away and marry me in another state if that was what I wanted." She calmed slightly. "It wasn't, and your father jumped through hoops and went through h.e.l.l to get my parents to agree to the marriage. They did, of course. But after going through all that... for me... I knew he loved me more than anything. We got married, eventually started our family, and bought this house." She dabbed her eye with a tissue from the box beside the sofa. "Both of us had such dreams. We were going to raise you kids and then spend our retirement seeing the country."

"Dad was always talking about spending hours on the open road," Peter said, remembering one of his dad's bedtime stories.

"Yeah. Instead, someone broke into the Kleindinsts' house across the street, and your father was determined to protect us. He bought that d.a.m.ned gun, and when I wouldn't let him keep it in the house, he hid it out in the shed. Like that was going to do us any good. The only thing it did was get him killed by-" She stopped. "No, it wasn't fair. None of it was fair. Life sure as h.e.l.l isn't fair."

Peter stood up and walked to the far side of the room, staring at the fireplace mantle with the picture of his father sitting front and center. He heard Luka walk up behind him.

"It's okay," Luka said.

Peter looked over his shoulder and sighed.

"What wasn't okay was you blaming us, blaming me me, for Dad's death." He whirled around. Suddenly he had to get this out. "I was six and you blamed me because Dad was gone. After that you didn't care if I existed. I needed you more than anything, and you weren't there." He walked over to where his mother sat staring at him like he was from another planet. "I didn't shoot Dad."

His mother stared back at him, saying nothing. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She knew. It was written in her eyes.

"Mother," he prompted. "That isn't a surprise to you, is it?"

She swallowed and said nothing.

"You knew. I didn't know until late last week. I spent all these years blaming myself for something I didn't do, and you knew all along. You... you...." Peter breathed deeply, inches from throttling her.

Instead he had to get out. Right now. He raced toward the front door and yanked it open hard enough that it hit the stop. He raced into the front yard, to the shade of one of the maple trees his father had planted, and gasped for fresh air. All these years of making him feel guilty every time she wanted anything had been a lie. She'd already known.

"f.u.c.k!" He yelled up into the branches and thick leaves. He wondered if she'd pulled the same c.r.a.p with Vince, making him feel guilty as well. Jesus, what a manipulative b.i.t.c.h.

He heard the front door open and snap closed. Luka walked out across the lawn and stood next to him.

"I think we can go now," Peter said. "There's nothing here."

Luka touched his shoulder. "Talk to her," he said.

"I can't right now." He turned to Luka. "All this time, she knew. She could have said something." His head felt like it was going to explode. The pressure behind his eyes built and built, and he knew he needed to calm down. Luka stepped in front of him.

"Close your eyes," Luka said.

Peter looked at him skeptically but did as he asked. He felt Luka's fingers on his temples, making small circular motions.

"That better?" Luka asked after a few seconds.

"Yes," Peter answered, tension draining from his head.

"Good," Luka said.

Peter opened his eyes as Luka looked back at him. "What?" he whispered.

"Maybe your mama not know that you do not know," Luka said.

Peter closed his eyes once again. This was too d.a.m.ned much. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that none of it was worth it. The baggage he kept carrying along with him was just too much. He opened his hands, relaxing his fingers, imagining a suitcase falling to the ground. He had to let it go, get rid of all of it. Peter took a deep breath, slowly released it, and then took another. Luka lowered his hands and Peter stood stock-still. Then slowly, he took a single step and another. The imaginary suitcase he'd dropped stayed right where it was. Peter took another step and another, walking toward his car.

"Let's go home," he said to Luka.

"What about your mother?" Luka asked when Peter stopped to open the car door.

"I know what I want now and I've let it go. Now it's her turn to decide what she wants." Peter looked toward the house. "When she's ready she'll let me know, and if she's never ready, I can deal with it now too." He pulled open the driver's door and got in the car. Thankfully, Luka didn't ask or say anything. He simply got in the car, and Peter started the engine and backed down the driveway.

They rode in silence until they got to Luka's. Peter parked and sat, staring out the windshield, seeing nothing.

"You okay?" Luka asked just above a whisper.

"Yes. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm fine." The sun was beginning to set, Bella's house casting a shadow over most of the backyard. "Would you like to go get something to eat?"

"You really okay?" Luka asked skeptically.

"Yes. I think so. I aired things out with Vince, and I hope we'll be good. And Mom, well, Mom is Mom. She knew what happened, and I believe she used my ignorance to her advantage, or tried to. But that doesn't matter. The ball's in her court now. I know what happened, and she now needs to decide what kind of relationship she wants to have. I don't need her any longer. I haven't for a long time."

Luka turned and looked at him strangely.

"It's not that I don't love my mother. But it's time our relationship changed. I don't need a mother any longer. And when I needed one, she wasn't there, or at least it didn't feel like it. So if she wants a relationship, then it has to be one of equals. And if she doesn't, I think I can live with that. I'm not going to bend over backward for her any longer." Peter flashed Luka a smile. "What I need isn't something my mother can give me." He reached over and cupped the back of Luka's head with his hand. "What I need is you. I need to feel loved and cared for. You do that for me." Peter brought their lips together and kissed Luka.

"Should we go inside?" Luka asked.

"Yes," Peter answered softly. "I think making out in the car is something we're both a little old for." He followed Luka into the apartment and smiled when he saw all the organized paperwork sitting on the table. "Is everything going okay?"

"Yes. I have job people filling out the forms. They say they happy to do it for me," Luka said. He made a face and knew what he'd said wasn't exactly true. "They be done tomorrow and I can send everything." Nervousness crept into Luka's voice. Peter knew he was worried about what might happen. Peter was, as well, but they'd filled out everything they'd been asked to, and Luka had come here legally. He'd also followed all the rules and procedures, so Peter could only hope that it was only a matter of time before everything would be settled.

"I make dinner," Luka said and got to work. Peter had forgotten in all the excitement that they hadn't stopped to eat. As soon as Luka mentioned food, he was instantly starving. He helped make a quick and easy dinner of salad and some leftover sausages that tasted better the second day. After they ate, he helped Luka clean up, and then they settled in the living room on the sofa and watched television with Luka's legs stretched over Peter's lap.

This was heaven-someone to spend time with, watch television with, and be close to. The s.e.x was great, but Peter knew a relationship was more than that. It was having someone to do nothing with. Someone who fulfilled and made him complete without having to have huge plans.

Peter rubbed Luka's feet, then pulled off his socks and stroked his foot and then up his leg. He let his hands wander, not breaking contact, but not pressing either. Luka was his and he belonged to Luka. When the character Sheldon on the television program said something ridiculous, Luka laughed, and Peter did the same.

"I understand this Big Bang Theory, Big Bang Theory," Luka said. "I work with some of these people." Luka laughed again, and Peter smiled, truly happy-at least for the moment.

Chapter 10.

A FEW FEW weeks later, Luka was working quietly at his computer in the lab. He was afraid to start anything at this point. He couldn't concentrate very well, and he didn't want to chance messing up some of the delicate work that he had to complete. A soft knock sounded on the door, and he swiveled around in his chair. weeks later, Luka was working quietly at his computer in the lab. He was afraid to start anything at this point. He couldn't concentrate very well, and he didn't want to chance messing up some of the delicate work that he had to complete. A soft knock sounded on the door, and he swiveled around in his chair.

"Peter," he said with a quick smile. "Why are you here?"

"You have an appointment at the immigration office, and I was coming to go down with you."

Luka nodded and swiveled back around. He closed his applications and shut down the computer before standing. He wasn't sure what he'd need, but he had brought copies of all of the paperwork he'd completed so far. "I'm ready to go," he said.

Peter smiled. "Your English keeps getting better and better."

"I have a good teacher," Luka said. Now that he'd been hearing almost nothing but English for a few months, it was getting easier. The words came to him, and he often didn't have to think so hard about them. There were times when they simply flowed rather than being translated to and from Serbian. He knew that was a good sign.

Luka got his bag and motioned Peter into the hallway. He locked up and walked with him out of the building. "Do you think we can go to Serbian Old Towne tonight for dinner?"

"Are you feeling a little homesick?" Peter inquired.

Luka nodded. The past week or two, he'd found himself wishing for some of the things he'd left behind. He knew his old home was closed to him. But it didn't stop him from looking for the familiar.

"You know it's normal when you live in a strange place to... sometimes become disillusioned. Nothing is the same as it was in Belgrade, not the food or the way people do things. It's okay if you even feel angry about it sometimes."

Luka swallowed. "I did not want you to think I was angry at you."

Peter shook his head. "We'll go to the Serbian restaurant, and you can eat your fill and listen to the music and talk to people. It's okay to talk to me about feeling homesick and about being angry or frustrated."

"Mostly I am nervous about this meeting," Luka said. The caseworker had called to arrange the appointment, but hadn't been forthcoming about the purpose other than to explain that he needed to speak with Luka in person. Since that call two days earlier, Luka had been on pins and needles, wondering how long he would be able to stay. Peter had consulted with some of the people he worked with, and they had said Luka should be fine, but they also said immigration law was convoluted and could be difficult to navigate.

"Don't be. You have friends, and we're all here to support you," Peter said, but Luka could tell he was anxious as well. They hadn't talked much about those feelings, ones that had been ever present over the past few weeks, increasing a lot in the past few days. Luka kept having the feeling that this was it: his future would be decided based upon this meeting.

"I know, but I keep thinking about what will happen if they send me home," Luka said. He nearly stumbled as they left the building and walked across campus to where Peter had parked his car. They got in, and Peter drove across town through heavy traffic to the federal building. He parked on the street, and Luka got out, his gaze sliding up the gla.s.s-enclosed building. It appeared cold, and Luka shivered slightly.

"Let's go inside and find out what's happening," Peter suggested.

Luka didn't move right away.

"Think about it this way. Knowing one way or the other is better than all this wondering." Peter motioned him toward the door of the building, and they went inside.

Luka couldn't help looking up into the cavernous building while Peter spoke with the man behind the desk.

"It's on the sixth floor," he told Luka.

They went to the elevator and rode up with Luka watching the numbers change on the display. When the doors opened, they got out and entered an office.

"I have appointment with Marvin Weston," Luka told the receptionist. "I'm Luka Krachek."

"Yes. I'll call and tell him you're here. Please have a seat. It should be just a moment."

"Thank you," Luka said and sat on the edge of one of the chairs. He kept glancing at the door and then at Peter, wondering what was in store for him. After a few minutes, the door opened and a man younger than him strode over to where he sat.

"Mr. Krachek, I'm Marvin Weston." He held out his hand. "It's very nice to meet you. Please follow me to my office, and we can review your case."

"This is Peter Montgomery." Luka turned to Peter and wondered how he should describe their relationship.

"I'm Luka's partner," Peter said, and Marvin smiled.

"Then this affects you as well," Marvin said. They walked through the doors and down a sparkling tiled hallway to a small office with a desk and two chairs. "Please have a seat."

"Do you usually meet directly with people like this?" Peter asked as he sat down.

"No. Usually decisions are made and letters sent, but this was a unique case that required additional scrutiny because of Mr. Krachek's cousin's death." Marvin sat down, and Luka and Peter did as well. "At first a number of us were a little baffled as to what to do, but you provided the information we needed in your application for lawful permanent residency. And the Serbian government added weight to your case."

"They did?" Luka asked.

"They contacted Luka and were watching his house at one point," Peter said.

"Yes, they were apparently very insistent in certain circles. But like I said, that helped us with our decision. Your sponsor being dead created a dilemma, but since you have employment and were already here, that worked in your favor as well."

"So I can stay?" Luka asked.

"Yes, you can stay," Marvin said. "We've decided to cla.s.sify you as a refugee until your request for permanent residency is processed. It's a technicality, but it fits under the law because of the antic.i.p.ated persecution that would result from you returning to Serbia. That seemed like the easiest fit. I'm recommending the approval of your application for permanent residency, so you should get your green card in the mail in a few weeks. Once that happens, you'll be able to apply for citizenship in five years, if that's what you wish."

Luka leaned forward. "I can stay?" he repeated.

Marvin smiled broadly. "Yes. You can stay."

"I don't want to be mean or anything, but you could have told him over the phone," Peter said.

Marvin nodded. "I probably could have. But I spend my days telling people no, I need this paperwork completed, or this is wrong. I had some good news for once, and I wanted to be able to share it in person. One of the best parts of my job is times like this. Also, I wanted Mr. Krachek to understand everything that is happening. And that if he is in any way bothered by anyone from the Serbian government, he is to call the police. The Serbian government has been notified that their presence in this matter is not welcome." Marvin paused. "You have skills that will benefit this country. That was obvious from the recommendations we received from the university. It's a pleasure to welcome you to the United States." Marvin stood up and shook Luka's hand. "If I need anything more I will be in contact, but I think we simply need to wait now."

"Thank you," Luka said, shaking Marvin's hand vigorously and then stepping back. He still held the portfolio of papers.

Peter and Marvin shook hands as well, and then Peter and Luka left the office. Luka made it to the elevator and waited until the doors slid closed before yelling his relief and happiness. Then he kissed Peter hard, practically trying to climb him, and only backed away when the elevator stopped.

When the doors opened, Luka sheepishly stepped out and hurried toward the doors to the building with the portfolio strategically held in front of him so he didn't give everyone in the lobby an eyeful. When they made it to the car, Peter was still smiling. They hurriedly drove to Luka's. Luka got out and grinned at Peter over the top of the car. Peter smiled back and looked toward the door with a "let's hurry up" look. Peter's smile faded, and Luka wondered what was up until he followed Peter's gaze.

Peter's mother sat on the swing in the backyard. She stood up and approached as they walked toward her.

"What are you doing here?" Peter asked.

"Luka told me where he lived when we were talking, and since you weren't at your place, I took the chance that you were here and drove myself. I parked on the street out front. Your friend Bella said you would most likely come back here and that I could wait if I wanted."

Luka unlocked the door. "You can come in if you like," he said.

Peter stopped her. "What are you doing here? You could have called if you wanted to talk to me."

"No, I don't think I could," she said before turning to Luka. "Thank you. That's very nice." She stepped inside, and Luka shrugged before following her. Peter came as well. Luka got both of them to sit in the living room and went to get drinks. He wasn't sure what to serve, but pulled out a bottle of slivovitz just in case. He had some lemonade in the refrigerator and brought that to start with, along with three gla.s.ses.