Growing Season (MxM) Complete

A Chance Encounter

Prologue:

The local hospital was somewhat large, serving the small sized city and surrounding countryside, but for anything really big and important the specialized hospitals in the larger city an hour away were where people went.

On the fourth floor, painted a soothing shade of peach, was Oncology, where Phillip Cameron sat next to his mother waiting for the results of her bloodwork and tests. She was nervously clutching her pale pink purse to her bosom, clad in her slightly dressier going out clothes. Her silvery grey hair was cut short and sensible, and she was in a rubber soled pair of slip on leather loafers. Even though she was worried--she'd been unusually tired and achy again--her perfect posture and poise were completely appropriate for a woman of a certain age who thought herself proper.

Phillip, recently graduated from the local university with his degree in botany, examined the potted plants in the room from his seat while trying to decide what to say to his mother. Should he offer any empty platitudes, like he was sure she was fine? He wasn't a doctor, and lying wasn't his forte. He'd definitely noticed his mother's laboured breathing and increased levels of exhaustion. Instead, he resorted to the only thing they had in common and the easiest source of conversation, "It looks like the doctor's dieffenbachia has been overwatered--yellow tips on the leaves."

"Why, yes, Phillip. I'd say you're correct." She reached across and patted her son's denim clad knee. She knew this couldn't be easy on her son, he was far out of his comfort zone and she was all he had aside from his job at the greenhouse. His father passed away several years ago and Mrs. Cameron really hoped that she would live long enough to one day see him happily settled, but was fairly certain the news today would not be positive. Leaving her handsome, but shy and quirky, son alone was her biggest fear.

Their attention was drawn to the door, where the knob groaned with movement. When the tired looking doctor entered the room, the mother and son learned that both their assumptions and worries were correct. He pulled out his chair, settling slowly, then reviewed her chart carefully before sighing and setting it aside. "I'm sorry Mrs. Cameron, but it's at stage four and has metastasized to the lungs and brainstem. I would recommend starting on an aggressive treatment before your health deteriorates further and perhaps you should get your estate in order."

"Thank you, Doctor." It was the polite response after all, even to a death sentence. One that was coming soon.

They knew the drill. Remission was over and so was Mrs. Cameron's life. Phillip may have felt a sharp pain in his chest, and Mrs. Cameron might have had an excess of moisture in the corner of her eyes, but neither were willing to yield to their feelings. Emotions were not something that the Cameron family did. Especially in public.

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On the third floor of the hospital, Gareth was completely exhausted. He'd dropped off five year old Daisy and Baby Gabie, as he'd taken to calling his one year old son, at his friend Abby's apartment--along with copious amounts of diapers and changes of clothes--yesterday afternoon. Today he was sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a sunny yellow lounge while Leeann screeched at the desk nurse who was signing the release papers for her and the newborn. Trying his best to ignore the commotion, he quickly reviewed the science test he was meant to be marking. He loved his children, his career as a teacher, and his students, but the blonde demon bitching out the nurse right now was his worst nightmare.

Asleep in the well-used carseat next to him was their newest edition and reason he hadn't slept in over 32 hours. Little Frances was a tiny bundle with her fragile little fingers curled into fists and her fine wisps of curly blonde hair hidden under a pink knitted cap. She was beautiful, precious, and perfect. And Gareth knew, as much as Leeann was a holy terror, he was staying--in it for the long haul--as long as he had his children. At 25, and in his second year teaching, he was saddled with a much bigger burden than others his age.

"Come on, asshole," Leeann addressed Gareth as he fumbled with his papers. "Nurse Bitchface over there finally released us. I told her to fuck off when she tried to arrange the healthy baby visit. Like I don't know what to do, I've got three brats now, and the other two haven't died or anything." Leeann stomped her foot and blew her flattened bangs out of her face.

Gareth could see a few of the other occupants of the lounge cringing at her crassness, heck, he'd cringe at it too, if it didn't mean she'd direct an even worse tirade at him. Besides, she was angry right now because she was tired and he'd forgotten her hair products. She did just give birth and all, perhaps a short temper was warranted? He wearily put his marking back into his bag; at least he'd gotten half a set of tests done during the earlier stages of labour.

Leeann yanked the carseat up with a jolt, startling the baby inside, marching towards the elevator with purpose. Before Frances could start mewling, Gareth carefully took the carrier from Leeann.

"You know you shouldn't be carrying anything in your condition. Let me."

He rocked the carrier gently, lulling the baby back to sleep just before the doors slid open. Leeann barged in and began to fumble around for a cigarette and lighter in her purse, making noises of frustration. Gareth just slipped in next to her, smiling apologetically at the older woman and what appeared to be her somewhat attractive son who were the other occupants of the carriage.

There was the gentle mechanical whir as the elevator descended and the tapping of Leeann's foot as she impatiently waited.

"What a lovely infant," the older lady offered, smiling down at Frances who really did look angelic, complete with her little blonde curls peeping out from under the knitted pink hat. "You and your wife must be so proud."

Leeann scoffed as the metal doors slid open to the lobby. With the unlit smoke dangling from her lip, she turned and said, "Like I'd marry that cocksucker." Then she stormed off towards the exit to have her long awaited fix, lighting up as soon as the door slid closed behind her, rather than the twenty feet past the doors indicated by the painted line.

Gareth offered an apologetic smile to the two people sharing elevator. "I'm sorry, she's not herself," even though she really was, then a "Thank you," for the kind words about the baby. He trailed after Leeann like the beaten down pack mule he was, baby and carrier in one hand, hospital paperwork, grading, Leeann's overnight bag, and car keys in the other.

The two Camerons stared after the polite father and bundle of joy, flabbergasted, both knowing they'd never have something like that in their lives. Mrs. Cameron knew she'd never live to meet her possible future grandchildren, if her son was so inclined. And Phillip was pretty certain, for more than one reason, that he'd never be a father. He shivered at what that good-looking brunette man had to go through because that woman scared the crap out of him.

Again, this is a short prologue to the story, which is completely written. Updates will be twice weekly, once on the weekend and once mid-week, as I edit it. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read or even possibly comment or vote.

JJ :)