Brian spent the rest of the week finishing up accounts that needed his attention at work. He had promised Justin they could try to find the farm on the weekend and he would make good on that promise, no matter what fucked up part of the Kinney family history they might find out about.

Saturday morning they set out bright and early in the black Jeep that Brian had insisted on renting. He had made it abundantly clear that the Corvette was not going over gravel roads where stones would chip away at the exterior. Justin had sighed and agreed. Sometimes Brian was so fucking anal, and yet, sometimes that was a good thing, like the other night.

"What the fuck are you thinking about?" Brian demanded as they made their way onto the interstate.

"The night you got back from Chicago," Justin said with a grin.

"Enjoy your moment on top, little boy," Brian snarked. "It's back to the bottom for you."

"I don't mind. Bottoming has its own set of pleasures." Justin smiled.

"Yeah, it does," Brian agreed with his own smile.

They looked at each other and marveled at how far they had come in their relationship. Brian shook his head and concentrated on the road.

"Are you sure you know where the fuck we're going?" Brian asked after a while.

"I was hoping you'd recognize the turn-off," Justin replied with a straight face.

"Recognize the turn-off!" Brian bellowed. "It's the fucking interstate! Every turn-off is exactly like the last one."

"Don't get your knickers in a knot," Justin said calmly. Brian glared at him. "We want exit 91. But I do hope you will start to recognize where we are because I don't have an exact location for the farm, just some lot numbers."

"Fuck! This is going to be a wild goose chase," Brian said shaking his head. "I should have known better than to listen to you."

"I'm always right," Justin said confidently. "Wait and see."

"And when we're lost and starving in the wilderness, I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk."

"That's some plan for being lost in the wilderness."

"I have my priorities straight," Brian stated.

"And then you can carry me when I can't walk anymore," Justin chuckled.

"Yeah."

"Oh, next exit will be 91," Justin said.

Brian pulled off at that exit and Justin told him to go left over the bridge. Brian hoped Justin knew what the fuck he was doing.

"Do you recognize anything?" Justin asked after a bit.

"I was fucking five years old! And I'm not even sure there was an interstate that we took to get here."

"That's a big help," Justin said studying his map. "I think we're going the right way. There's a little town up ahead. "We could stop and ask if anyone knows the Kinney farm."

"As opposed to driving aimlessly about for hours and hours?" Brian asked sarcastically.

"Brian," Justin said looking thoughtful, "why didn't you ever find the picture and letters in that book?"

"I never looked at the fucking thing."

"Why?"

"After Jack's funeral, Mom handed it to me. She said Jack used to look at it every now and then. It always pissed her off that he would never talk about it. She never looked at it either, just prayed for Jack's soul, old reprobate that he was. She wanted every reminder of Jack out of the house, so she told me to take the book."

"But you never opened it."

"I didn't like reminders of Jack anymore than she did," Brian stated. "I brought it home and stuck it on the shelf. I intended to throw it out. Don't know why I didn't."

"You were meant to take this journey. I just know it. Otherwise that book would have been long gone."

Brian stared at Justin for a second until his eyes had to refocus on the road. He knew he would never be taking this journey without Justin. There were so many journeys in life that Justin had led him on.

"Let's ask here," Brian said pulling up to the general store in the little town of Bridgeton. He hoped they were doing the right thing.

Brian pulled the Jeep into a dusty parking space in the front of the "The General Store." Yup, that was the name over the door, The General Store. He and Justin jumped out of the Jeep, stretching the kinks out after their long drive. Taking a deep breath, they walked into the store together.

The store's interior matched its exterior, looking as if it had popped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. The floor was thick pine, darkened and worn with time and the footfalls from decades of customers. The wooden bins, neatly stacked with produce and daily essentials. On the counter, displayed in big glass jars, candy. To the delight of children young and old, candy and old fashioned bubble gum. One jar held wooden sticks, on the end of each stick, about three inches long, were brightly colored crystals in shades of red, blue, purple and green.

"Excuse me, what's this? Is it candy?" Justin's eyes sparkled as he gazed at the candy.

"It's rock..."

"Rock candy," Brian answered just before the clerk. "I remember, we stopped here. It was hot and Jack wanted some beer. I saw the rock candy. I was afraid to ask Jack but I guess I was staring at it and the woman behind the counter asked me what was my favorite color. I said blue and she handed me a stick with the blue crystals. I was surprised that Jack let me have the candy. It took me hours to eat it because it was so sweet. That was the last time we were here. I fell in the stream later that day; we never came back."

"My mother," the clerk, about ten years older than Brian, ventured. "The woman was probably my mother. She always gave free samples. You're not from here?"

"No," Justin answered for Brian whom seemed deep in thought. "No, my friend may have family here. He visited a farm near here as a child. Do you know if a family named Kinney lives around here?"

"Kinney, Kinney, nope doesn't ring a bell and I know all the families around here for thirty miles."

"Oh, well, thank you. I guess they moved away. Brian, we drove all the way here for nothing."

"Wait, my Mom's out back taking inventory. Maybe she remembers. I'll be right back." The clerk turned and went into the back of the store. Justin watched Brian walk to the front door. He could see Brian's chest rise and fall as Brian seemed to struggle to breathe.

"Brian, are you okay?" Justin softly asked, knowing that this was not a time to smother Brian but allow him the time to process his memories.

"I'm fine, Sunshine. It's just I have so little memory of anything good in my life. The few times we came here were good."

"Do you want to go home?"

"No, we came this far, we'll see it through. At the very least, we've had a nice drive out of the city. Let's see if she recognizes the name."

At that moment the store owner came out from behind the swinging door that led to the storeroom.

"Hi, I'm Charlotte. My son says you visited my store as a boy and that you may have family around here."

"Yes, ma'am. I think my grandparents may have had a farm near here. My father and I came into this store a couple of times. But it was a long time ago; I must have been about 4 or 5."

"Well, young man I have a pretty good memory for names and I do recall a family named Kinney. Matter of fact they were a bit legendary."

"Really?" Justin's ears perked up and he leaned on the counter.

"Well, yes but not in a good way, but not bad either. I know that sounds confusing. Come out back with me and I'll explain. Have you boys ever tasted Birch Beer? It's similar to Root Beer. Here ya go. Now let's sit out here and I'll tell you an interesting story."

About an hour later, Brian and Justin climbed back into the Jeep and continued on their journey. A half a mile from where Charlotte told them the farm was, Brian pulled off to the shoulder and turned off the ignition.

"Brian, we're almost there, why are we stopping?"

"Justin, I need a minute. Run this by me again. From the beginning."

"Okay. First, what we read and surmised about your ancestor, the artist Kinney, seems to be true. He was famous for a while until he had an affair with a man. There was a scandal and he left the area with his friend. His wife stayed and managed the property until her son became of age and took over. It appears that your Grandfather was Kinney's grandson. Your grandfather worked the land and was fairly successful. He married your grandmother and had a family, one of which was Jack. From all accounts Jack was a normal guy who met a young woman named Claire Anderson. She and Charlotte grew up together but became estranged when Claire and Jack fell in love. By that time the farm was starting to fail and your Grandfather had to sell off bits of it. Jack left home to look for work in the city and I guess that's where he met Joan. Charlotte seemed to think that Jack had intended to come back for Claire but he never did."

"Yeah, Jack knocked up Joan and the rest, as they say, is history. But that doesn't explain how this Claire Anderson got the farm."

"Brian, think about the one letter your Grandmother wrote when she thought she was dying. She always thought that Jack would come back, take over the farm and live with Claire. Maybe Claire took over the farm while she waited for Jack."

"She's gonna have a long wait."

"Brian, cut the snark. Charlotte said that Claire works hard to keep the farm running, what's left of it. You ready to meet her now?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Brian started the Jeep and drove to the road that led to the Anderson Farm.