was and sat beside him on the couch. She spoke plainly.

"Stephen is gay," she told Matt.

Matt didn't speak.

"I think what we are facing tomorrow is AIDS," she said.

In the quiet, Matt thought back to a day years before when he and his oldest son, Tim, were driving together. Tim nearly made his father's heart stop when he asked if Matt thought Stephen was a homosexual.

Matt gave a firm "no." There was no reason not to. So Tim never mentioned it again, and Matt buried the memory.

To acknowledge that Stephen had kept a secret like that would shatter the image of his family. All sins were equal to God, but not to many in the church. There was something about homosexuality that made people want to turn away.

Matt stoodup and walked outside. Frances left him alone. He stayed in the backyard for what felt like hours, pacing. Finally, he looked up at the black sky and pleaded.

God, this is beyond my imagination. This is beyond my ability to accept.

***

The two-hour drive to Atlanta was quiet. Neither knew what to say. The Nevelses were the kind of people who didn't take well to mess. The tops of the picture frames were dusted, the beige carpet was always lined with vacuum marks.

They thought they knew their son. Everyone called him Steve. He was handsome, with a firm chin and steely blue eyes.

As a boy, he dressed like his two brothers. He had played sports like his brothers, cross-country and softball. He got good grades and grew to 5