Sander's Courage Read online

  Sander's Courage

  A Happy Endings Sleepover Novel — No. 2

  By

  Cade Jay Hathaway

  ______________________

  ©2015 BY CADE JAY HATHAWAY

  All rights reserved by the author.

  Publisher's Note:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the

  product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

  to actual persons, living or dead, some business establishments, events, or locales

  is entirely coincidental. For the most part!

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Hathaway, Cade Jay

  Sander's Courage / Cade Jay Hathaway 1991—

  p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-1515336679 ISBN-10: 1515336670

  1. Contemporary Gay Life—Fiction. 2. Life in Denmark—Fiction.

  3. CIA / Espionage—Fiction. 4. Contemporary Youth Relationships—Fiction.

  I. Title

  Published in the United States of America

  Set in Palatino Linotype — Book Designed by Wilson Rushbrook

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this

  publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or

  transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

  recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the

  copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any

  other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by

  law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in

  or encourage piracy of copyrightable materials. Your support of the author's rights

  is appreciated.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 THIRD EDITION

  Certain characters in this novel speak various European

  languages. Whenever a character is heard speaking English

  as a second language, the writing reflects whatever

  limitations that particular character may have with grammar,

  accents, or pronunciations of certain English words and

  phrases. However, if the character is thinking any

  unexpressed narrative thoughts, those thoughts will reflect

  the usage of proper grammar and pronunciation as if the

  person is thinking in his or her own native language.

  ALSO BY CADE JAY HATHAWAY

  ________________________________________________

  Happy Endings Sleepover

  Long Before Morning

  Open Secrets

  The Prodigal Sparrow

  And Nothing But the Truth

  Until Forever Dies (Anthology of the First Three Novels)

  Book Boy (A Memoir of a Gay Youth)

  ________________________________________

  For Mads, our little Jannik,

  with love from his big brothers.

  ___________________________________________________

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  C H A P T E R

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  Preview of Book 3

  "Long Before Morning"

  About the Author

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  ummer passed and the days turned cool. Our time

  spent together was lived in a kind of hyper-color

  S bliss that most would call the honeymoon period.

  Maybe for us it's the always period. I look forward to each

  sunrise as a reboot to a perfect life, and even after that

  terrible business in Belgium, I have nothing to complain

  about. I thought I might have lost Sander forever when he

  took a gunshot to the arm from a Russian agent of the

  SVR-RF—their version of the old KGB—now that the

  failed Soviet Union had broken up into something they'd

  renamed the Russian Federation.

  My name is Johnnie Allen and I work for the U.S.

  Central Intelligence Agency, posted in the small

  Scandinavian kingdom of Denmark. I moved here from

  the States a couple years ago and I met the love of my life,

  a guy called Sander Lars Hansen. We live together now,

  are totally committed to one another, love each other to the

  stars and back, and—not that it matters—we're gay.

  I was twenty when I met Sander at a party. He was

  sixteen at the time, and it took us a little over a year as

  friends to each realize that the other one was gay. And lest,

  dear friend, you are concerned about Sander's age... In

  Denmark, the age of consent is fifteen years, for both gay

  and straight. And we didn't share our Happy Endings

  Sleepover until Sander was seventeen going on eighteen.

  So enough about that.

  Sander's whole family loves me as one of their

  own. I will soon have an thirteen-year-old brother-in-law

  called Jannik; a gorgeous and unbelievably smart sister-in-

  law called Ingrid who is twenty-five; and his parents—

  Niels and Magda—are more family to me than my own is

  back in America.

  We set a date for our wedding. It was Sander's

  idea, and it's a good one. We'll be getting married on

  Christmas morning just about two months from now. He

  thought it would be great because all of the extended

  Hansen and Nørgård clans could share in our wedding, as

  they'd already planned to be there for Christmas anyway.

  Clever boy, my Sander.

  IT'S JUST AFTER SEVEN ON A RAINY THURSDAY

  morning. The fire glows red-orange in the little wood-fired

  heating stove in our bedroom. Thunder punctuates the

  damp air every now and then, which just makes me want

  to stay in this bed, lie against his warm body, and count

  his breaths as he gently sleeps. The eiderdown comforter

  drapes across him as if he's a model in a photo shoot for

  some swank designer cologne, and the last turn his body

  made, four thunder rolls ago, revealed his smooth, perfect

  ass. Shadows fall upon us, drifting like geometric

  performance art borne of the dark and rain-laden clouds.

  They move swiftly ashore from an angry Baltic Sea.

  This is our home. This is us: Sander and Johnnie

  waiting on the onramp to the ribbon of highway that will

  become the rest of our lives. I wish that road to be a very

  long one indeed.

  I stare transfixed at the blustering storm, and I am

  excited by the contrast. Outside the punch and fury of the

  hard rain is mitigated in this
cozy room by the soft fire and

  the piney smell of the varnished wood, and the warmth of

  the love that is never far away, and never in short supply.

  "Good morning, Johnnie boy," came the melodious

  voice. "You're up early."

  "Hi, Pokey," I said. "You were hard asleep there."

  "Ahhh, I sleeps too much, I think. Time to make

  another day, yes?"

  "Definitely!"

  "But first I piss!" he said, rolling—literally rolling—

  out of the bed. "I have to piss so bad I don't even get a

  morning's boner," he joked. "What up with that, yeah?"

  "Hey, if you want a boner, come see me for an

  appointment. Maybe I can work you into my busy

  schedule."

  "Don't forget we go to the school later to see Jannik

  bang the drums in the band," Sander called, over the

  splashing stream of last night's soda, beer, and coffee. In

  that order. We spent the evening with friends of his, and

  besides the awesome meal we all shared, everyone took a

  turn at the beverage cart to see who could serve up the

  most drinks to their pal and his new life partner.

  A flush and a brush and he was back in our room.

  "All I get every day for the last two weeks is come see me

  drum; Johnnie gots to see me drum; drum-drum-drum. So

  we can't let him down," he said.

  "No way we'd miss it. Your mom said he's really

  good," I said.

  "Yes, well, it's our mother you know, and it's her

  job to say that. But who knows, maybe he is Danish Keith

  Moon."

  He crossed the room, naked to his socks, his

  sensuous form choosing the day's wardrobe from the open

  birchwood shelves and the oiled mahogany armoire. I

  caught a glimpse of his balls when he bent over to pull his

  briefs up over his soft thighs.

  "What are you looking at, Mr. Allen? You naughty

  man," he smiled.

  "What do you think?"

  "My cute little nose or my perfect chin maybe?" he

  teased.

  "Lower!"

  "Ah! I know what is all you sexy guys wants.

  Maybe if you buy me some chocolates and some nylons

  you can have some of this!"

  "Nylons, huh? Didn't think we did the pantyhose,"

  I chuckled. "But I'm not averse..."

  "Okay, knee-highs and chocolate then."

  "Come here..." I said. The young man in stocking feet

  glided around the bed and landed in my arms.

  "I love you, Johnnie."

  "I love you back; more than you love me."

  "Not is possible." And then he kissed me as I pulled

  him closer. I felt his tongue, and then he brushed his

  fingertips across the small of my back. The sky took the

  cue to rumble its approval. "I think coffee and omelets can

  wait, yes?"

  I never opened my eyes. Instead, I chose to employ

  the senses of smell and sound to experience the magic that

  was on tap. I felt the back of my head land softly on the

  goose down pillows, and Sander's lips encapsulate my

  throbbing erection. He took me to his special place where

  the only thing that exists is the intensely pure and

  powerful love that defines Sander and me. This was how

  our day began.

  Chapter 2

  nd now, my ladies and gentlemen, klasse five-

  A of Marie Jørgensen's Skole presents The

  "A Lillebælts Band!" shouted the principal of the

  century-old school. (By the way—just an observation—but

  why is it that whenever a bureaucrat of any persuasion

  speaks into a microphone, it must always be followed by

  an ear-splitting squeal?)

  Anyway, with a downbeat to rival Lars Ulrich—a

  famous Dane, by the way!—Jannik Hansen led his merry

  band of fifth-graders into a rousing rendition of Bowie's

  Life on Mars and—get this—the little creeps were actually

  quite good.

  They brought down the house, and after the show,

  seeing Jannik and his team, lost in a sea of their classmates

  taking turns slapping them on the back and buzzing about

  how much they loved their performance, was so very

  heartening. Jannik caught our eye and shot us an ear-to-ear

  grin.

  "Pokey! Johnnie! You come!" the sandy-haired boy

  hollered as he trotted over to us. "Where is Mama, Pop,

  and Grini?"

  "They're way in the back, but we got here early so

  we have good seats, see?" Sander smiled. "We are in the

  front seats; that means we hear your song before they do

  back there!"

  "You're crazy," he declared. "Hey, Johnnie!"

  "Hey, Jannik! I thought your arms were gonna fall

  off!"

  "No, no! I am professional."

  "You were so good, man! Maybe someday you can

  make records and be famous!" I told him. "You have a real

  flair, dude."

  "Hva' sagde han?" Jannik asked Sander what I had

  just said.

  "Han sagde, at du har talent." Then Jannik turned to

  me and smiled: "Do you wants for to have my autograss?"

  We totally cracked up and Jannik just looked confused.

  "What I say makes so funny?"

  "It's auto graph," Sander laughed heartily, "not

  auto grass, du fugl hjernen."

  "Nej! Du er en fugl hjerne, Sander, Sander kommer fra

  Randers!" Jannik teased. Now it was my turn to ask.

  "Okay, Pokes, what are you two on about?"

  "I call him bird brains and he says I am the one

  with bird brains. So he say I come from Randers, which is

  like saying you comes from the trailer park in Alabama.

  Now you know," Sander reported. To which I slapped

  Jannik a high five.

  "That's telling him, Jan! And, yes, I want your

  autograss!"

  FOLLOWING THE FIFTH GRADE ASSEMBLY, my future

  in-laws, Niels and Magda, took us all out to dinner at Den

  Gamle Kro, a lovely restaurant in the center of town. The

  name of the place translates in English to The Old Tavern.

  We were seated by the window, the large oaken table

  dressed in white linens and lighted by candles. By now it

  was storming fiercely and we found ourselves with

  premiere seating for the lightning show that moved in

  over the cobblestone streets. The low lighting from the

  brass parrafin lamps added to the ambience of the special

  evening.

  "Now boys," Magda began in her motherly tone,

  "Pop and I want to know your plans for your wedding."

  Sander shrugged, "Well, we are getting married

  and then we live happy ever after."

  "And then they kiss and takes off their clothes and

  go aaaggghhh, ooohhhh, and oooooo!" Jannik said

  cheekily. "You know it be truth I say, Pokey baloney!"

  "Jannik Mads Hansen!" Magda scolded.

  "Oh! She uses all three names! You're in for it now,

  kid!" Sander chuckled. "Glad I'm not you!"

  "You apologize immediately, do you hear?" Niels

  added.

  "I was only making a joke a little bit," Jannik

  protested. "They know I only make some fun."

  "Jannik!"

  "I'm sorry brothers. I only means humor, not to

  make you angry wh
it me."

  Sander pulled his little brother closer and kissed

  him on the head. Personally, I wasn't offended at all. In

  fact, I thought it was damned funny. And neither Sander

  nor I could deny the fact—even the part about the moans

  and the groans!

  Jannik's fate was saved by the arrival of our large

  platters

  of

  Danish

  potatoes

  and

  gravy,

  and

  wienerschnitzels. This family's camraderie was something

  I hadn't understood until I became a part of the Hansens

  myself. I guess I'd based all of my conceptions on books I

  had read, or movies I'd seen depicting somebody's

  idealized version of what a functional family is supposed

  to be. Now I was actually part of one, and it felt pretty

  awesome.

  "So, about the wedding," Magda began, "I want it

  to be a very special day for both of you. So what can we

  do? Have you any ideas?"

  I raised my hand and Niels nearly spit out a

  mouthful of claret from laughing at my formality.

  "We're not in school! Out with it, man!" he

  playfully chided me. Ingrid reminded me that the only

  way one gets a word in edgewise with the Family Hansen

  is to simply jump into the fray. "Ssshhh, ssshhh,

  everybody! Our man Johnnie has the floor!"

  "Well, Pokey thought around Christmastime would

  be good because then your whole family...all the

  relatives...could come," I said. "I think it's a good idea,

  because I know how much I'd like to meet everybody."

  "Even Uncle Ole!" Sander laughed.

  "Ugh! Poor Johnnie," Magda said. "I thought you

  loved Johnnie!"

  "I do! But if he's going to be a Hansen, he has to live

  the whole Hansen experience!"

  "Including Uncle Ole!" Ingrid added.

  "What's wrong with Uncle Ole?" I asked.

  It seems that Niels's brother, Ole, is quite the

  character. He has been in jail more than he has lived free of

  some level of restriction or confinement, and his crimes

  have always been knuckleheaded and mischievous efforts

  at best. In fact, I learned that many locals have Ole Tales of

  their very own. All of the police officers and jailers know

  him, and it seems that he is universally liked by all. Ingrid

  said that most people just end up eventually dropping the

  charges because of his charm. But the story that floored me

  was the one that Sander told about Ole and the lady who

  lives in a nearby manor house, Bertha Moon.