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surface, at least—well-adjusted man would talk about his past only in the most general terms. Funny thing—initially it was Ed's longing for a father figure that attracted him to Cameron, nearly ten years his senior, but when they got married it was Cameron who took Ed's last name and became Cameron Blacknoll. He hated his childhood that much.
    It was no less ironic that he, who had degrees in psychology and social work, should be in no position to work on dispelling his husband's demons. He could be his support person—had been almost from the beginning of their relationship—but not his therapist.

    * * * *

    Ed had intended to stick to the kids' problems during the afternoon one-on-one sessions, but the business with the will had brought back memories of his stay at the shelter, and he easily fell to reminiscing. Much had changed since then. They handled more kids now, placing some in foster homes once they were over the worst of their depression. They'd come back for group sessions and counseling once a week, more often for recreational activities. Ten years ago the state would never have placed a kid with a gay or lesbian couple, and finding a heterosexual couple, especially one with children, who'd take in a gay teenager was a lost cause. For him it had been little more than a safe home, a place to come back to after school and his afternoon job, with minimal counseling and not much socializing.
    Face-to-face, several boys again raised the subject of his marriage, but with a different tone. They challenged him on it, said "it just seemed wrong." In other words, they felt tainted. Behind their ribbing that morning lay the all-too-familiar lingering self-hatred. It's hard to accept yourself when your family rejects you , he reflected. Self-worth comes with love.

Husbands

    Having spent most of the day talking up his relationship with Cameron, whether to satisfy the kids' curiosity or respond to their doubts, Ed left work elated and more than a little horny. One look at Cameron deflated him. He was visibly shaken, his face haggard and white as ash.
    "Cameron!—Mr. Blacknoll—you look awful. What is it? Has something happened, baby?"
    Cameron smiled. "It's nothing, Mr. Edward Blacknoll." His smile faded. "Yes, you're right. Something's upset me. I have to go back to Georgia. Will you come with me?"
    "Did Marc tell you about that old woman's will? Sure, if that's what you want."
    "You know about it?"
    "From Marc. He wanted me to mention it to you, but… Well, I know how you feel about Georgia. I wish he'd listened to me. Look how it's affecting you, for God's sake!"
    "Don't worry, I'll be okay. I have to go; that's all there's to it."
    "You sure you're up to it?"
    "No problem… so long as I have you with me." He patted Ed's arm as if to reassure him. "I just don't think I can face those people alone."
    "What people?"
    "The people in Macon. That's where I grew up."
    "As if anyone will remember you! It's not as if that's where you got into all that trouble."
    "No, that was Atlanta. I steered clear of Macon."
    "Like I said, they'll all have forgotten by now except for your folks. It should be easy enough to avoid meeting up with them if that's what's worrying you."
    Cameron's features clouded over. "It's not. There's no chance I'll run into them. They're both dead now."
    The disconnect between his words and his facial expression didn't escape Ed. "You're sure of that? I didn't know you kept track," he observed.
    "I didn't keep track. I just know."
    "So, is the case all that difficult?" (It was time to change the subject.)
    "Hell, no. With me there we'll win in five minutes flat, and then we'll come straight home. They don't have a leg to stand on."
    Cameron wasn't making sense. He wouldn't be representing Jay, but he had to go and he'd win the case for him. Ed could see something was upsetting him, but he didn't dare press him on it. He'd find out soon enough. "The heirs—do you know what grounds they're contesting it