Harold Burwick's political star was rising. Fifteen years in the State House, six of those years as Speaker provided, he was assured, sufficient résumé for a gubernatorial run. The primary was in May and he had been putting together his campaign staff since November. Key people were in place and major fund raising was well underway. His chances looked good. He was well ahead in the polls and he had made himself known in much of the state. He did, however, need to pay more attention to his home district. He needed to be seen with some highly respected citizens and, it wouldn't hurt if they were rich. The first name to come to mind was Henry Schmidt.
Burwick's people contacted Henry and asked him to host a fundraiser. Henry didn't know Burwick personally but he knew his reputation and their party affiliation was the same. Henry agreed.
Jefferson County was not a black tie kind of place. These were good hardy farm stock - the God, home and family type. Burwick's people agreed with Henry that it should be an informal, family affair. The invitation list included twenty deep-pocket families and a few of Henry's not so rich friends, children included. It was not only the kind of thing Jefferson county people liked; it would make good press.
As far as Marty was concerned, it was just another party. He knew that David, Daren and Timmy would be there so it would be fun. Uncle Henry had put the hot tub off limits because of the "co-ed" nature of the event but there were lots of ways kids could have fun at Grünfelder anyway.
By now, Henry had twelve Belgians, among them a well-broken team of three-year-old geldings that had show potential. They just needed a little more training. The weather cooperated with a clear, cold night with six inches of well-packed, frozen snow - perfect for bobsled rides. Henry had adapted a cutter to the yoke and Ferdinand was briefly pressed into service but that night, the bobsled with the straw and bells on the horses and all the kids who could get on the sled - all of that was the conveyance of choice. Several salamanders were placed around the training ring in the horse barn to warm it, hay bales for seating and most of the evening's activities took place there. The event had a good rural, down-home feel to it, just the way Henry wanted it.
There was no formal program, just amiably chatting adults, surreptitiously bestowed checks, happy noisy children, jingling sleigh bells, a hog-roast catered by the Badger, hot coffee, hot cider and several potables closely guarded by a Badger bar-tender to be sure they were added only to the coffee or cider of those legally eligible. It was a good evening. Everyone had a good time and Harold raised a good chunk of money.
But the defining event of the evening had nothing to do with politics, money, sleigh-rides or good food. It had to do with two laughing/crying, screaming little boys.
Several times in the course of the evening, eight-year-old Bobby Burwick had heard kids yelling for some kid named Marty. When you're eight, things don't sink-in right away. But on one of the sleigh rides someone again yelled, "Hey, Marty." and the kid sitting next to Bobby answered. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Bobby looked and the face was vaguely familiar too. "Is your name, Marty?"
"Ya, What's yours?"
"Bobby - - "
Each looked deep into the other's eyes. "Auty?"
"Marty?"
That's when the laughing/crying, screaming started. Adults came running, fearing grievous injury and then seeing the two children in a wriggling embrace thought they had a fight to terminate.
Each "parent" knew the outerwear of his/her child and Henry and Patricia Burwick pulled their respective scion from the imagined fray. The boys, still caught-up in the emotion of having found each other, attempted to pull away so that they could resume their hug.
"Marty, now you settle down!"
"But, Uncle Henry, he's my brother."
Deathly silence. Patricia Burwick, open-mouthed and devoid of color wavered as if about to faint. Harold embraced her and then she began to cry - actually ululate is what she did.
Harold spoke gently to his wife. "We knew it would eventually happen Pat. It's going to be all right."
"But he'll hate us. You know how he cried for Marty when we first got him. He'll hate us. I can't lose him, Hal, I can't."
Bobby was puzzled. He glanced between his mother and his brother. He knew why his brother was crying. The same reason he was crying. They'd found each other. They finally found each other. Was his mom crying because she was happy too? The boy got the feeling that was not the case. He went to her and hugged her. "Don't cry, Mom. Be happy. I found Marty."
Pat held her son close. "You don't hate us?"
Bobby was puzzled. "No?"
"But we took you from Marty."
Hal interrupted. "Leave it go, Pat. It's all right."
Bobby was still confused by his mother's emoting but Marty being Marty understood. "Mrs. Burwick, you did good..."
"Marty!"
"Oh, ya. You did the right thing by taking Auty.
"My name's Bobby now. It's Harold Robert Burwick the Second."
"Oh, ya. You did the right thing when you took Bobby. My dad couldn't take care of him right. He wasn't his boss; beer was and I was too little to do it right. My principal and my Uncle Henry helped me understand that when a kid tries to do a big person's job, they mess it up. Aut - - uh - - Bobby got a mom and dad who loved him and took really, really, really, really good care of him. He doesn't hate you. He still loves you and he always will. And because you took good care of him, I think I love you too."
Pat Burwick had felt guilty about Marty for the three years they'd had Bobby. She knew how the boy must have been living but she also didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the adoption. She knew that Mart had been impaired when he signed away his parental rights and she knew - she just knew that if she tried to get Marty some damn lawyer would get the adoption nullified and she's lose her child. She felt herself selfish and cruel but she could not bring herself to do anything that might cause her to lose the little boy who, along with her husband had become her life.
Now somewhat composed and very much relieved, Pat asked, "How have you been, Marty?"
"I felt really, really, really bad after Auty got took." A quick glance at Uncle Henry. "Got taken. I didn't know what happened to you when you got taken. I know now that you get people who love you and I can stop wondering about the baby. She got someone to love her too.
"I didn't get taken but I got someone who loves me." Marty giggled and jumped into Henry's arms. "I guess I kinda took him."
Most people present knew Marty's story but the Burwicks lived in Madison so they did not know about Henry Schmidt's Little Bird who had also become a rather renowned "song bird".
Marty told the story but left out the part about the druggy fucking him. When he told the part about how he got his dog name- - "No, that's not right."
"Pet name, Marty."
"Oh, ya, that."
He had the whole group in tears. He was a dramatic little storyteller.
Pat hugged Marty to her to the refrain of the eager appeal from her son, "Can Marty come and stay all night sometime, Mom?"
"Of course he can if it's all right with his Uncle Henry."
The Burwicks were the last to leave. They chatted at length with Henry about how they would handle the relationship between the brothers. Both agreed there should be one and decided to let the boys allow it to naturally develop. Both were comfortable that the current family situations would not be disrupted.
Henry did get an agreement from the Burwicks to see to Marty's future should something happen to him. He made them aware that the Burwicks involvement would be contingent on the Friesema's and Marty's wishes.
At midnight, they went looking for the boys. They found them on Marty's bed, fully clothed, shoes and all, sleeping in each other's arms. Even asleep they radiated joy and contentment and were they cute. They looked a lot alike.
Harold tried to pick up his boy without waking him. He was only partially successful. Bobby did not completely wake but he did enough to say, "Thank you, Daddy, for helping me find my brother". He then laid his head on his dad's shoulder and resumed his sleeping. Henry loaned a blanket to be thrown over the boy while he was being carried to the car. A much relieved, tearful Pat Burwick walked out carrying Bobby's jacket, snow pants and boots. Henry got a kiss of relief and thanks as she left.
As Henry was removing Marty's shoes, Marty woke enough to say, "I love you, Uncle Henry and now I don't have to wonder about Auty and the baby anymore. They've got people who love them." The Little Bird rolled over and went back to sleep as a tearful Henry covered him. The little guy had carried a very heavy load and apparently had been carrying part of it until tonight.