Neither spoke. Hudson stroked Ben’s hair as he would that of a child he loved. After some minutes, Ben raised his head and kissed Hudson tenderly, covering his mouth, his face, his throat with the lightest of touches. Hudson wrapped his legs across Ben’s, holding him there, never wanting to let him go. From outside came the sounds of laughter as unseen travelers walked by the house, oblivious to the wondrous thing that had just occurred beyond the graffiti-scrawled wall.

Hudson closed his eyes, and the voices on the street became those of men walking through early morning fog that smelled of fish and boiling oil and the sea. He heard, too, the shrill, high sound of the whistles, the coughing and sputtering of engines, the barking of dogs. He heard all of these things as if they poured from the mouth of Cannery Row itself, a song born of struggle and forgotten dreams, but mostly a song of joy and life. He heard this song, and he knew then that he loved this place more than any other, loved the sweet, stinking beauty of it and its people. And although much of that beauty was gone now, there was still enough of it left—in this room, in his heart, and in the heart of the man in his arms—to keep the song alive.

Knowing this, he opened his eyes and looked into the strong, bright face of his future.

Copyright Page

KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022

Copyright © 2007 by Michael Thomas Ford

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2007926733

ISBN: 978-0-7582-8679-6