Author's webpage: http://tuktoyaktuk.net/innusiq/

Author's notes: Comments are always welcome. TYK.

Camp Bimini
by: Jenny Hill

A warm breeze blew over the front porch where a young boy, seven years in age, sat pouting with his head in his hands and elbows resting on his knees. It was the first weekend of his summer vacation and where most kids his age were out celebrating their release from the prison known as school, he felt nothing like celebrating. The end of the school year didn't mark his release into freedom but more a transfer into another prison. It was a prison more commonly referred to as summer camp.

The boy's mother observed her usually rambunctious son in his somber mood and joined him on the porch. "Caro, what's the matter?" The only response she received was a shrug of his shoulders. "Caro . . . " she said as she scooped her second youngest into her arms, sitting him on her lap. "Please, tell your mamma what is troubling you."

The boy looked up at his mother, his pout even bigger than before. "I don't wanna go Mamma."

His mother looked at him and offered a soft smile when she asked, "You don't want to go where, dear?"

He sighed heavily and replied, "Camp Mamma. I don't wanna go to camp."

"Oh Raymondo," Mrs. Vecchio exclaimed as she pulled her son closer in an embrace, placing a kiss on his forehead. "We have gone over this before. I thought you wanted to go to camp?"

"I did want to go . . ." Ray responded on the verge of a whimper.

"What has changed your mind, Caro?"

Still whimpering, he replied, "I don't know."

"It's only for a few weeks. You make it sound as it I'm sending you away forever."

Still pouting, Ray said, "It feels like forever."

"Caro, you will see. You will have a great time and you'll meet all sorts of new friends. You'll probably have so much fun you won't even want to come home," Mrs. Vecchio said trying to entice her son but it wasn't working.

"I don't think so Mamma . . . Why isn't Maria or Joey going?" Ray asked.

"You know why Raymondo . . . Joseph has a job delivering papers this summer and Maria is going to help me take care of Francesca." Mrs. Vecchio explained for the second time to her youngest son.

"I can help you with the baby Mamma . . . even though she's not a baby anymore . . . she is three." Ray crossed his arms against his chest to prove his point.

"Yes dear, she is no longer a baby but I still need help with her and it wouldn't be fair to expect you to help me. You're still a baby yourself . . ."

"I am not a baby," Ray protested.

Mrs. Vecchio chuckled. "No, you're not but you are still very young and I want you to enjoy your childhood while you still can. You will thank me for this when you are older, Caro." Mrs. Vecchio was hoping her explanation would answer any and all of his questions as to why he was being sent away.

The young Ray Vecchio looked up at his mother and highly doubted that fact. He really didn't want to go to camp but there was nothing he could say that would change his parents' minds in their decision. Every kid from the neighborhood would be going to camp too and that would include a one Frank Zuko, school yard bully. Ray put on a brave face for he had been defeated by his own mother. He left for camp the following day.

The landscape streaked by as the young boy sat in the passenger seat on the drive to camp. He didn't want to go to camp but his father insisted. He would have rather stayed home or what he now considered his home, with his family but he didn't have a choice for he was only eight years old. Hardly a word had been spoken on the way to their "new" town and even less was spoken on their trip to the camp. His father had been transferred once again and this time Robert Fraser decided to take his son with him.

"Are you alright son?"

The boy turned his attention from the passing landscape and to his father. "Yes, Dad," was his only response.

"Ben, are you sure?" Bob Fraser asked of his son again. It had been a trying two years that included the death of the boy's mother and relocating to his own parent's home. He worried about his son and thought this summer posting would be a great opportunity for him to meet and associate with a few children his own age.

Ben nodded his head, sticking with his original response. "Yes, Dad. I am fine."

"Good . . . I think you are going to have a splendid time here at camp. I won't be far from it either, just a ten minutes drive." Bob Fraser smiled at his son with pride and ran his hand over the mop of unruly hair.

Ben returned his view out the passenger window dreading their arrival at the camp. It was hard enough, living every day without his mother but to move thousands of miles away just to attend a camp seemed truly ridiculous to the young boy. He had all the friends he needed back home: Innusiq, Joon and all the other children in their village. What use would any American children do him? Ben shook his head to himself as the car turned onto the winding dirt road that led to Camp Bimini.

The children were divided up into their respected groups upon arrival. First they were separated into the main groups of boys and girls. Next, the two main groups were divided up into age groups of five and six year olds, seven and eight year olds and so on and so on. Once the individual groups were formed, each group was led to the cabin where they would sleep each night.

"All right guys," their camp advisor said, bringing his troupe to order. "My name is Mr. Welsh and I will be your advisor for the next few weeks." The kids stared wide-eyed at the towering man with a booming voice.

"First, I am going to assign bunks to everyone and then we will make our beds and head for lunch. Do any of you have any questions?" Mr. Welsh asked as he panned his troupe. They all looked like genuinely good boys but looks could always be deceiving; at least that's what he had learned from the police academy. As Mr. Welsh started calling out names, each pair of boys scampered over to their bunks and quickly began the process of making their beds.

Halfway through the list of names, he called out "Frazier and Vecheeo," mispronouncing both names.

Both boys began moving towards their bunk and when Ray was just about to pass their advisor he stopped and tugged on Mr. Welsh's pant leg.

"Yes, Vecheeo?"

The boy looked up and smiled, politely correcting, "It's Vecchio, Sir." And then he moved to continue on his way.

Ben on the other hand believed it wasn't polite to correct his elders and didn't say a word.

The two boys approached their bunk, Ray claiming the top without a word of permission and they both began making their beds.

By the time Ray was done, he was breathing hard. He was a healthy boy. Healthy in the sense that his Italian mother fed him well and he ate well. Where his older brother and sister were tall and lean, he had yet to hit his growing spurt and he was still retaining his baby fat.

When Ray popped his head over the edge of the top bunk, his bunkmate was seated quietly in the middle of his perfectly made-up bed. "How'd you do that so fast?"

Ben looked up and answered, "Practice I guess."

Ray rolled his eyes and climbed down for the upper bunk. "My name is Ray. What's your's?"

"Benton," the boy replied.

Ray scrunched up his generous nose and repeated the name. "Benton? What kind of name is Benton?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "It's the name my parents gave me."

Ray nodded his head. "Parents can do a number on ya, huh? My real name is Raymond or if you're my mom calling me, 'Raymondo,'" Ray explained, imitating his mother's way of calling his name.

Ben giggled at the funny name.

"It's not that funny, 'Benton,'" Ray said emphasizing the peculiar name.

"I'm sorry . . . I do apologize," Ben said as his giggling slowly subsided.

Ray offered a little laugh himself. "It is kinda silly, isn't it?" Ray sat on the lower bunk next to his new friend. "So, what do your parents call you?"

There was a solemn look in Ben's eyes as he answered. "My father calls me Ben . . . If I'm in trouble, it's Benton and my grandparents call me Benton all the time," Ben said that last part with some resentment.

"What does your mom call you?"

"My mum . . . my mum use to call me Ben but she doesn't call me that anymore." The sadness in the boy's voice could not me missed.

"Why not?" Ray asked, clueless.

"My mum died two years ago," Ben replied.

"I'm sorry . . ." Ray didn't know what else to say. He was too young to have experienced death first hand yet he did know what it meant. He couldn't imagine his life without his own mother, especially if that left him to be raised by his father.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "It's okay, I live with my grandparents now and I have my good friend Innusiq back home . . . He's almost like a brother."

"Where are you from?" Ray asked, curious as to where this boy with the funny name who had a friend with an even funnier name had come from.

"I live in the Northwest Territory," Ben replied.

"Northwest what? Where's that?"

"In Canada."

"Canada . . . where's Canada? Is that part of the United States? I don't remember learning about that state."

"No," Ben replied. "It's a country just north of the United States. We're owned by the Queen," Ben thoughtfully added.

"The Queen?"

"Yes, the Queen of England."

"Wow." Ray was truly in awe of this boy's background. His own background didn't even seem to compare. "So, what brings you to Chicago?"

Ben sighed. "My father was transferred here by his job. He's a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." The last part of his statement was said with pride.

"He's a cop?" Ray asked.

"Yes . . . I guess in your terms he is."

"My dad hates cops," Ray commented.

"He does . . . why?"

Ray shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, he just does."

Ben nodded his head in acceptance of the answer. He liked this boy. He was easy to talk to and seemed like a genuinely curious person. Ray wanted to know as much about him as Ben wanted to know about Ray.

Ben was different from the rest of the boys. Ray knew just about everyone else there from the neighborhood and from school. Some of the kids he liked and others he couldn't get far enough away from. Ben was different and a kid Ray was certain he was going to get along with.

"Alright fellas," Mr. Welsh called his troupe to order. "We will be heading down to the dining hall now for lunch. I would like you to keep in pairs of two and after lunch we will go over the rules you will need to be aware of and follow during the weeks you will be here. Are there any questions?" His troupe had no questions at that time so he began herding them out and down to lunch.

"Come on Benny, let's go," Ray said as he climbed off Ben's bunk.

Ben was started by the name Ray used to address him and he repeated it in a question. "Benny?"

"Yeah, I can't call you Benton - that's an old person's name." Ray stopped his explanation and asked, "You don't mind do you?"

The young Canadian blushed, a rosy color as he shook his head. "No, no one's ever called me that. It was a surprise - a pleasant surprise."

Ray shook his head in amusement. "Pleasant surprise? Benny, you talk like an old person." Ben cocked his head to the side not understanding his new friend's meaning. "Never mind Benny, come on. Let's get to the lunch hall before all the good stuff's taken."

After lunch each group's advisor went over the rules of the camp with their respective troupe and then they were off to their first activity. It was a getting to know you activity and a chance for the kids, both boys and girls, to become more relaxed in their new surroundings. The majority of the children had been to the camp before and regularly each summer. There was only a handful here for the first time and this activity was mainly for them to make those few feel more at home.

Okay, so it was the lamest of activities and one every child dreaded doing but necessary to get acquainted with each other. It was the young Canadian's turn.

Ben stood up and swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried desperately not to blush. "Hello, my name is Benton Fraser . . . " The young boy clammed up.

Mr. Welsh cleared his throat. He knew this boy was a long way from home and he wanted him to open up a little more. He already knew the boy had made friends with his bunkmate. Both boys seemed to be a perfect match for one another in an opposites sort of way but he also thought Fraser should get to know the rest of the kids at the camp as well.

"Fraser," Mr. Welsh began, pronouncing the name correctly this time. "Where are you from?"

Ben made eye contact with his advisor and offered a small, shy, smile. "Canada, Sir." The children gathered in the pavilion all awed and some were whispering amongst themselves. It was as if they had never seen a Canadian before and most of them hadn't but he wasn't a freak of nature. He was a normal kid like all the rest of them.

"And what brings you to Chicago, son?"

"My father was transferred here, Sir. He's a member of the R.C.M.P." At the puzzled look on the faces gathered around, Ben explained further, "the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

Mr. Welsh nodded his head. "Ah, how long will you be staying in Chicago?"

"I'm not certain, Sir. My father's posting time is undetermined. . . with all due respect Sir . . . may I please sit down now?"

"Yes son, you may take your seat." Mr. Welsh was impressed by this boy's politeness. It was a gesture rarely seen in the children his age let alone the adults Mr. Welsh dealt with on a daily basis in the Greater Chicago Area. This was definitely going to be a refreshing summer.

The sun shone brightly over Camp Bimini on a warm Sunday morning. The children were scurrying around preparing for the arrival of their families after spending most of the morning working diligently on a craft that would be presented as a gift to the visiting fathers.

Father's Day came once every year and each year since Ray had been sent to camp, the children always made some kind of gift for their fathers. This year's gift was a wallet. Last year they made picture frames in which photos of each child, taken while at the camp, were showcased. The year before that, the children painted family portraits.

Father's day wasn't one of the holidays Ray cared for too much. It wasn't because he didn't receive any gifts on that day but more because whatever gift he did present to his father never seemed good enough. He was only seven years old and he already felt like a disappointment in his father's eyes.

The two boys who had become inseparable since their meeting the first day sat under a tree watching all the other children interacting with their families. Both held the wallets they made in their hands.

"So, Benny, is your dad coming today?" Ray asked.

"Duty permitting, I do expect him."

"So that's a yeah?" Ray asked, trying to get a clarification on the wordy answer given by his friend.

"Yes, Ray. And your dad?"

Ray shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I think he's coming. He's always come before." The boys sat quietly watching the other families for a few more minutes.

"Hey Benny, what's your dad like?"

Ben turned his attention towards Ray but didn't say a word straightaway. He really didn't know too much about his own father due to his obligations to the force. "What do you mean Ray?"

"Well, like is he nice?"

Ben nodded his head. "Yes, Ray, my father is very nice. He is a very honest and noble man."

Without even meeting the man, Ray knew he would like him and probably better than his own father.

"And your dad?" Ben asked, turning the tables. "Is he . . . nice?"

"He can be," was Ray's only response. He didn't like talking about his father or giving out too much information that would give anyone a window's view into what his home life was really like. Some things were just meant to be kept private.

Before Ben could probe any further he watched a grin spread across Ray's face and when Ben turned to see what his friend was looking at, he could only assume Ray's family had arrived.

Ben had heard so much about Ray's family in the first two weeks he was at camp that introductions were not necessary. There was Ray's mother, a woman in her early thirties who looked wiser than her age would determine. Ray's brother Joseph, or as Ray referred to him, Joey - ten years in age - was walking next to his mother acting as if he was above being at camp. Maria, Ray's eldest sister was toting Francesca, Ray's youngest sister, on her hip, acting like a little mother herself. It was warming to finally be able to place faces with their names but there was one person missing.

"Mamma!" Ray exclaimed happily, nearly dropping his Father's Day present on the ground as he jumped up and ran to his mother.

Mrs. Vecchio greeted her son in a big bear hug and kissed his cheek. "Caro, I've missed you so."

Ray returned the hug, threatening never to let go. "I missed you too, Mamma."

Mrs. Vecchio pulled away, running a hand over her son's head. "Have you been a good boy, Caro?"

Ray nodded his head. "Yes, Mamma."

Mrs. Vecchio looked passed her son to the young boy standing a few feet back, shyly observing her family. She smiled at the boy and when she received a tentative one in return, she asked, "Caro, who do we have here?"

Ray turned in the direction he was being nudged and smiled big as he made a gesture for Ben to join him. As Ben was closing the gap that separated him from the loving family, Ray introduced him. "Mamma, this is my new friend, Benny - He's from Canada!"

Mrs. Vecchio's eyes got big with excitement knowing from her son's voice that this was a big deal to him. "Canada, you are a long way from home . . . Benny?" She knew that wasn't his given name knowing her youngest son tended to nickname everyone he came in contact with.

"Benton Fraser, Ma'am. It is a pleasure to meet you." The young, polite boy extended his hand as he had been taught to do out of respect for her age and importance in life. She was a beautiful lady, Italian, Ben ascertained by her accent.

Mrs. Vecchio took hold of the small, offered hand and smiled with a slight laugh. "It is a pleasure to meet you too, Benton. Is your family here?"

Ben shook his head. "No, Ma'am. My father has not arrived yet."

"Well, you will just have to stay with us until he does then." Mrs. Vecchio turned to her eldest son. "Joseph, go back to the car and grab the picnic basket," she ordered. Turning back to her son's new friend she said, "we can have a nice picnic together and get to know each other more."

Ben's first reaction was to protest. "No, Ma'am, that is quite alright. You don't have to . . . "

"Benton," Mrs. Vecchio said sternly, causing him to yield to her words. "You will have lunch with my family, end of discussion. And if your father arrives before we are finished, he can join us as well. Capise?"

Ben nodded his head. "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am."

"Mamma, where's Pappa?" Ray asked genuinely curious.

Ben could see the look Ray's mother gave Maria before she answered her son. "Raymondo . . . he couldn't make it this year. Something came up . . . " Mrs. Vecchio's words trailed off as if no further explanation was needed and oddly, with Ray, nothing further needed to be said.

"Oh," was Ray's only response. It was a response both Mrs. Vecchio and Ben couldn't miss hearing the disappointment in.

"Come Caro, Benton, let's have a nice lunch," Mrs. Vecchio said in an effort to change the subject.

The boys followed behind Ray's mother and sisters towards an empty picnic table where Ray's brother joined them shortly afterwards.

There was more food placed on one table than Ben had ever seen in his entire life. His grandparents believed in necessity. You never made more than was needed for the time being. That is why Ben had originally protested against joining Ray's family for lunch because he simply didn't believe there would be enough food for them all plus an unplanned guest. He had been so wrong.

And the food was wonderful. He had never had lasagna before that day and after his stay in Chicago, he was certain would probably never have it again. Ben savored each and every bite he took. When he was finished with his plate and Mrs. Vecchio offered him a second helping, he eagerly accepted it. Ben wasn't starving. He just couldn't satisfy the unnatural hunger he was feeling.

"Excuse me, Ma'am but I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Every head at the table turned at that statement. Only one of them recognized the tall man in the brightest red uniform ever created. "Dad!"

Ben got up from the table to greet his father. He really hadn't missed his father as much as it looked like Ray had missed his own family. Ben had months of practice waiting to see his father and their separations were normally just that, months. This time it had only been two weeks since he had been dropped off at the camp so it was more a treat to be able to see his father after such a short time span.

If it had been his mother who was meeting him at the camp, Ben would have run up to her in very much the same way Ray had to his own mother and Ben would've given his mother the hug of her life and he would never have let go. But that was something that was never going to happen.

Mrs. Vecchio observed the reunion between father and son with a bit of sorrow. The boy was just a year older than her own son but still a baby in his own right. There should have been more feeling or caring displayed in their reunion but all Ben got from his father was a hand on his shoulder - a reassuring hand at that and the boy accepted it as if he had received the world.

"I do apologize," Bob Fraser said, turning his attention to the woman at the table. "I didn't introduce myself. My name is Bob Fraser."

Mrs. Vecchio stood up. "It is good to meet you. My name is Rosa Vecchio and these are my children: Joseph, Maria, Francesca and this," Rosa said moving over to Ray, "is my son Ray whom I believe has become very good friends with your son, Benton."

"Is this true, son?"

Ben nodded his head. "Yes Dad."

Bob smiled at Ben. "That is good son. You know, a good friendship is hard to find and if it's good enough, it can last over a lifetime and thousands of miles without missing a beat."

The words were meaningless to the young boys at that time but Rosa understood what he was trying to say. Although the two boys were friends now, there was no telling what the future had in store for them or that after this one summer they would ever see each other again.

"So, is your wife going to be joining you this afternoon?" Rosa asked.

A solemn look spread over the man's face and before he could speak, he needed to clear his throat. "Ah, no. Caroline past away a few years back . . . "

"Oh," Rosa exclaimed, a little embarrassed at her own question. "I'm sorry, I didn't know . . ."

Bob raised a hand to silence her apology. "It's quite alright. Ben and I are doing just fine now . . . aren't we Ben."

Rosa watched as Ben looked up at his father and nodded but in his wide, blue eyes she could see the longing the young boy had for just another day with his mother. She sent a prayer up to the heavens thanking God that her own children didn't have to go through what this boy has and in such a short lifetime.

"Have you eaten yet?" Rosa asked.

"I can't say as I have but there is no need for you fuse over me Ma'am . . . " Bob protested, in just the same manner as his son.

"Nonsense. There is plenty of food to go around. Sit, sit, sit." Rosa said, ushering Bob to a seat next to his son.

"Thank you kindly, Ma'am."

Placing a hand on his arm, she corrected, "You can call me Rosa, Bob."

The Mountie blushed and smiled his thanks once again before turning to meet a pile of pasta that had been dished out onto his plate by one of the older children.

In the end, the day was too short and before they knew it, it was time for them to leave. Rosa had been reluctant to leave her son at Camp Bimini on that first day, knowing how much he didn't want to be there but now that he had a good friend in Benton Fraser, it was a little easier to leave this time. Ray's spirits seemed uplifted and the only explanation she could come up with was Benton. Now she feared that when Camp was over, her son wouldn't want to leave the friendship behind. But, Rosa wouldn't worry about that presently. When that day came, then she would deal with it.

"Good bye son," Bob said with another reassuring grip on Ben's shoulder. "Thank you for the wallet. I will keep it with me always."

The words said more than any gesture he could give his son. Ben was grinning wildly knowing his father appreciated the useful gift.

"Thank you for coming, Dad."

"Now Ben, where else would I be."

Ben shrugged his shoulders not knowing the answer to his father's rhetorical question.

"Now you be good and in a few weeks I'll be back to pick you up."

Ben nodded his head. "Good bye, Dad." And he watched as his father turned and headed out of the camp.

When Ben turned around, he saw Ray handing his mother the wallet he made for his own father. There was sadness in his friend's eyes and he could only assume it was because his father didn't come.

Rosa caressed her son's cheek and said, "Now Caro, don't cry. Your father will love the gift, I promise you." She kissed Ray on the cheek. "Mamma has to go now."

Ray nodded his head. "Yes, I know."

She smiled at her brave boy. "I'll be back in a few weeks to pick you up and then you can spend the rest of the summer at home, okay."

Ray nodded again before he was pulled into a loving embrace.

They were scenes like that one that made Ben's heart ache for his own mother. Every time one of his friends was comforted by their own mother, it just reminded Ben of what he was missing in life. If only he could tell his father but boys don't cry and boys don't mope and boys don't talk about how they feel. To do that and admit such things would be to expose a weakness and that just wasn't the Mountie way.

Mrs. Vecchio saw Ben out of the corner of her eye and once again there was that longing look. When she stood up from her son, she walked over to Ben. "It was nice to meet you, Benton."

Ben looked up at Rosa and smiled with a slight blush. It was an inherited trait. "Thank you kindly, Ma'am for your hospitality. It was a pleasure to meet you and your family." Ben stuck out his hand for a handshake.

Rosa bypassed the impersonal gesture and stooping down to his level, she pulled Ben into a hug.

Ben hesitantly wrapped his arms around the mother of his friend and closing his eyes, he imagined it was his own mother. "Thank you." He whispered.

Pulling away and running a hand down his cheek, Rosa whispered back, "You're welcome," and she placed a kiss on the young boy's forehead.

Before they knew it, their time at camp came to a close. With fishing and canoeing and hiking and swimming and the like, time seemed to fly by before either Ray or Ben knew it had passed.

The two boys, best friends as they had decided after their first week at camp, waited together, side-by-side, for their families to arrive. They didn't talk too much all morning, knowing that when they departed there was no guarantee that they would ever see each other again.

"So . . . ah . . . Benny, you gonna stay in Chicago long?" Ray asked trying to break their silence. Even though he didn't really want to talk their silence was killing him.

"I don't know. I suppose I will be in Chicago for as long as my dad is posted here but I would assume I will be return home for the school year."

"So soon?" Ray squeaked out.

Ben nodded his head. "Yes."

Ray turned and reached into his bag, producing a piece of paper and a pencil. He quickly jotted some information down then returned the pencil to his bag. "Here," Ray said handing the paper to Ben.

"What is this?" Ben asked.

"It's my address . . . you can write me . . . if you'd like . . . after you go home."

Ben stared at the small piece of paper for a few seconds then looked back at Ray. "I would like that very much, Ray. Thank you." Ben folded the paper up and placed it in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt.

"Now don't lose it."

"I won't Ray."

"And when you write me, you can give me your address and I can write you back. We can be pen pals." Ray smiled, please with his solution to their problem.

The idea seemed to brighten the day for Ben, too. "Pen pals."

The sound of a horn tooting pulled Ray's attention away. "Oh, my dad's here."

Ben turned to get a look at Ray's dad but the man didn't even exit the vehicle.

"Listen, I gotta go." Ray picked his bag up off the ground and he began moving passed Ben and then he stopped, walking back. "Don't forget to write me, Benny."

"I won't Ray."

Ray smiled knowing Ben would keep his word. Ray impulsively hugged Ben then moved to continue towards the car. "Bye Benny," he said, waving over his shoulder.

"Good bye, Ray." Ben stood and watched Ray get into the Vecchio station wagon and continued to watch as the vehicle pulled away. He missed his best friend already.

"Hey, Fraser," an authoritative voice called from a few yards back.

Ben turned and said, "Yes, Mr. Welsh?"

Mr. Welsh made a motion for Ben to join him and said, "Your dad called and said he's gonna be running a little late in getting here. Why don't you come up here and help me clean up the cabin while you wait."

Ben happily accepted the chore. The work would keep his mind occupied instead of wandering and wondering of the what ifs in life. What if he lived in Chicago on a more permanent basis? Would that be so bad? What kind of life would he lead? Would he still be able to be a Mountie just like his father?

In the end, Ben knew it was best for him to return home where he belonged and where he was needed.

As promised, the two boys did keep in touch but as time passed and distances grew so did the months and before either boy realized it, the letters had stopped all together and life went on. One became a Mountie like his father and the other became a cop to spite his father. The men never forgot about their one summer spent together at Camp Bimini. It was a special summer where two awkward and lonely boys met and became best friends in an instant as if fate had their meeting predestined to happen.

It was funny that his first visit to the Windy City was because his father dragged him there against his own free will and yet in this second visit, his father was still the reason he was there. Fraser had no choice in the matter. He had to go to Chicago because he needed to make sure that everything was being done and that nothing or that his Father's murder wasn't being ignored.

He didn't expect the police of Chicago to care about a Mountie's murder but he did at least expect them to care about justice being served but he was expecting too much. When he walked into the precinct the differences between his world and the world of Chicago was more than apparent. This was nothing like the Northwest Territory or even Moose Jaw. The city itself seemed suffocating and a world away from the Chicago he remembered from 25 years ago. It was suffocated but the desk sergeant was pleasant and more than helpful in pointing him in the right direction.

When Fraser enter the holding cell area of the precinct, he didn't know who he was looking for. There were no visible detectives to be seen, so he did the only thing he knew how to do. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a Detective . . . Armani?"

When a tall, thin man in the holding cell, dressed in a sharply tailored suit looked up and met his own eyes, Fraser knew then that what his father had said all those years ago was true. "A good friendship is hard to find and if it's good enough, it can last over a lifetime and thousands of miles without missing a beat."

That was the kind of friendship Fraser had with Ray. No matter how far apart they had been or the amount of time that had passed, they were and always would be best friends.

The End