This story is slightly different and again I have only borrowed the characters from Mr Bellisario and co. The title was inspired by the song, He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother, by The Hollies, and is the first line of the second verse, which goes:

So on we go, his welfare is my concern, no burden is he, we'll get there, for I know, he would not encumber me, he ain't heavy, he's my brother ...

So On We Go …..

Eagle Lake, California,

Spring Break, 1962.

"Lemme …. I wanna …. Sinj …."

"No, dweeb, you'll drop it."

"Won't …"

"Will too, now get outta the way, squirt!"

"Don't call me squirt! I'm not a baby!

"Are too!"

"Am not!

"Just move outta the way will ya!"

"Hey, guys, keep the volume down will you, you're scaring the fish!"

There was more than a hint of irritation in Steven Hawke's voice, which inspired his beautiful and long suffering wife, Connie, to lay a steadying hand on his forearm as he glowered at the two young men on the jetty, who were supposed to be helping to load supplies into the boat ready for their trip.

Connie watched them now too, her pretty sky blue eyes dancing with amusement, and understandable pride.

Yes, definitely young men, not kids.

Although, the way they were acting right now it was hard to believe that St John had just turned seventeen, while the 'squirt', his brother, Stringfellow had turned twelve at the beginning of the year.

She regarded them both now with the critical, but loving eye of a mother.

St John had filled out recently, strong wide shoulders and broad chest, more muscle too, evident in the straining of the material of the T-shirt he was wearing, which had fitted him perfectly just a few weeks ago.

Probably all that lumber he had been helping his father to cut, she thought with a soft smile.

His skin had cleared up a little too, thanks to the fresh air and sunshine.

He was a handsome, strong and healthy young man.

Stringfellow had had something of a growth spurt too, evident in the gap between the hem of his faded jeans and his deck shoes, revealing a couple of inches at least of bare ankle over the top of his socks. He was going to need new pants for school, she made a mental note, and then added new shoes to the list too ….

"I said, keep it down to a dull roar, huh, or we go nowhere!" Steven bellowed and again his wife squeezed her hand around his forearm, drawing his gaze away from where their wonderful sons continued to bicker and shove and jostle each other on the very edge of the jetty, neither caring that if they persisted, in all likelihood, one or the other of them was going to end up taking an early bath.

"Take it easy, honey," she tried to soothe her exasperated husband, after all this was meant to be a fun family day out, but if the flush that was creeping up Steven Hawke's cheeks was any indication, his blood pressure was already up through the roof.

She was worried about him.

At least he had tried to get into the mood, ditching the suit and the stiff collar and tie in favour of jeans and a casual shirt. He hadn't shaved or combed his hair either, she realised with a flash of amusement and looked very rough and rugged this morning, a look she much preferred to the slick, well groomed business type she usually sent off out of the house in the mornings, if she was absolutely honest ….

He had a very demanding job, with JPL, Jet Propulsion Laboratories over at Caltech in LA, deeply involved in Project Mercury the first human spaceflight program which meant spending time away from home at NASA in Houston and at the Cape in Florida, and he was almost at that age where men in stressful careers suddenly keeled over and unexpectedly died from coronaries.

Usually the most placid, docile and reasonable man on the planet, in recent months Steven had grown agitated and easily riled, and it had to be said, their boys did seem to have a knack for pressing all the right buttons to get his hackles raised.

Boys will be boys ….

She had tried talking to Steven, trying to get him to open up to her, but all he would say was that it was work, not her or the kids, and that he couldn't talk about it, but, all being well, in the next few months, things would resolve themselves, that things would get back to normal again.

Connie's reaction had been that if they damned job was going to end up killing him, why not just walk away from it and be done with it, after all, it wasn't like they were short of a penny or two. They were comfortable now, so he could afford to relax and sit back and enjoy the bounties he had worked so hard to achieve.

Lately, not even the peace and tranquillity of their weekend retreat, the log cabin that had been in the Hawke family for almost a hundred years, on the shores of Eagle Lake, seemed to work its magic.

He didn't seem to be able to relax and was inclined to go off at the deep end over very small and insignificant things.

Usually the boys' shenanigans amused him because he knew it was only youthful exuberance and high spirits, but today he was genuinely annoyed with the pair of them, and, if she was honest, she felt like crowning them herself.

"Leave them, sweetheart," she applied pressure to his arm now, indicating with her eyes to the ice chest at her feet, hoping that he would take the hint.

He smiled his understanding and drawing in a deep, calming breath, he was just about to bend down to pick up the chest, which was stocked with bottles of Coke and ginger beer, and the carefully wrapped fish that Steven had gone out early to catch this morning so that they could have them for lunch, when there was a loud shriek from the other end of the jetty, and now both Steven and Connie were turning in horror to see what all the fuss was about, expecting to see severed limbs and copious amounts of blood at the very least ….

"I told ya to move, dork!" St John, red faced, blue eyes blazing had poor young Stringfellow by the shirt collar and had bodily lifted him almost clear of the jetty, only the tips of the younger boys shoes scraping the wooden decking. "You stupid long streak of ..."

"Sinjin Hawke!"

Steven's angry raised voice immediately drew two sets of blue eyes in his direction and sent birds scattering from the trees.

"Don't you dare even think of finishing that sentence, if you want to live to see the end of the day!" He warned in dark, angry tones which left both boys in no doubt that they had come very close to crossing the line with their father.

"What have I told you about minding your mouth around your mother? And for crying out loud boy, put him down!"

St John immediately released his brother's shirt collar and the younger boy dropped back down onto the jetty and immediately rushed at St John and gave him a mighty shove in the belly, pushing him back toward the shore, badly winding him.

"You little runt!" St John grunted, rushing straight back at Stringfellow to give him a hard shove on the shoulder in return.

"That's it! You …."

Steven stalked down the jetty toward both boys, and Connie Hawke found herself rolling her eyes heavenward in exasperation at all three of them, before drawing in a deep, calming breath.

If you want a job doing around here, girl, better do it yourself ….

She bent carefully and lifted the ice chest, balancing it on her knee until she was able to straighten up with it, and then walked into the fray.

As soon as he realised that she was struggling under the heavy burden, ever the gentleman, Steven Hawke immediately forgot the punishment he was about to dish out, and rushed back up the jetty to relieve Connie of the ice chest, and by the time he had turned around to carry it back down the jetty, Connie had given both of the boys one of her 'don't push your luck' glares over his shoulder, and they were both now staring down innocently at their feet, shuffling, and whistling through their teeth.

As she drew level with them she gave the boys another warning look, and now they both at least had the grace to look suitably chastised and shamefaced, glancing back up at her through their fringes, which both needed a trim, she found herself thinking absently as she reached the edge of the jetty, where from on the deck, Steven was waiting to help her aboard.

Both boys knew that she was silently reminding them of the little chat they had had over breakfast, while their father had been attending to putting together the supplies and checking the boat over for their trip out on the lake, when she had wasted no time in telling them both that this was supposed to be a family trip, a pleasure cruise, fun for the whole family, not just the two of them, and that Dad had been working hard and was a little stressed out right now, so he needed this time to relax.

Usually her little pep talks did the trick, after all they really weren't little kids any more, and could be reasoned with, and although from time to time they argued and disagreed like most siblings, generally they got along quite well, mostly due to the fact that Stringfellow hero worshiped St John, and St John just lapped up the attention like a movie star.

Until recently.

Connie knew what had caused the change in their relationship.

St John had discovered girls ….

Big time!

But not before time, in her own opinion.

And he had pretty quickly realised that having his kid brother hanging off his shirt tails, and his every word cramped his style.

Poor Stringfellow.

Still, his day would come.

They were good looking guys, her wonderful sons, each inheriting their father's slender physique and honey brown hair and her own piercing blue eyes.

St John had inherited his father's height, and had hit six feet last Fall, while poor Stringfellow seemed to have inherited his height from her and she suspected that he was never going to be taller than maybe five feet ten or eleven.

He was a little on the skinny side too, but she suspected that he would fill out a little, when those raging male hormones started kicking in.

Another reason for the change in St John's attitude to his brother.

His male hormones had been rampaging for a while, and bless him, he thought he was a man, while String was still a baby.

In personality, they were as different as chalk and cheese, but both were extremely intelligent, too damned smart for their own good sometimes, something else they had inherited from their rocket scientist father, and as for temperament, St John had a high tolerance and a long slow fuse, while String was volatile and erupted almost immediately, but then his anger burned it's self out just as quickly and he returned to his usual placid, easy going self, while St John tended to brood and hold a grudge a lot longer, often times going back to raise the same argument because he didn't feel he had gotten his point across the first time. St John preferred running battles while Stringfellow got it off his chest and moved on.

All in all, they had shaped up quite well.

It wasn't that it hadn't been hard work, but it hadn't been a major battle of wills either, and the fact that the boys had such nice personalities and were genuinely pleasant to be around had made it a little easier.

At first, she had worried about the difference in their ages, St John being nearly five years older than Stringfellow, and she had feared that after being an only child for so long, he would be jealous of the new baby when she brought him home from the hospital, but as it turned out, he had always wanted a baby brother and had accepted Stringfellow with open, loving arms, always watching over him and coming to tell her when he was crying, or laughing, or getting into trouble, or mischief …. Which quite often St John had led him right into in the first place!

Of course there had been the usual sibling rivalries, the jockeying for positing, always trying to get one over the other, and St John had gone through that teenage rebellion phase, which she still had to look forward to from Stringfellow, and the signs were already there, but all in all it hadn't been so bad, and she didn't have a single grey hair to show for it, so she counted herself extremely lucky in that department.

However, as with all offspring, they had their moments, and today looked as if it was going to be one of those days, despite her warnings.

"Well, are you two going to stand their all day?" Steven asked impatiently now as he assisted Connie over the handrail and onto the deck of the cabin cruiser which he had spent many a lazy summer building with his own fair hand and which was his pride and joy, all varnished wood and gleaming brass fittings.

The boys made no answer but swiftly followed their mother onto the deck of the boat, and then Steven Hawke was making his way to the bow, where he released the line securing them to jetty, and Connie patiently pushed Stringfellow out of her way so that she could do the same with the stern mooring line.

"Right then, let's shove off …."