Page 19 of Unwanted Vows

The warmth goes straight to my crotch. As inappropriate as it is in these circumstances, I feel stirrings in my pants as my cock tries to rise to the occasion. She’s had my attention all day. Now I’ve learned she is the girl of my actual dreams. She is the sweet woman who gave me the greatest send-off any sailor or soldier could wish for. I shift slightly so she won’t think I’m trying to take advantage of her, while still keeping her hands trapped between us. Her strong little surgeon’s hands, that I’ve watched skillfully taking care of patients all day.

She was going to be a doctor, not a nurse practitioner. Had I derailed that ambition? Probably. Getting an MD is both arduous and expensive. But she hadn’t let it stop her from fulfilling at least part of her plans. I marvel at the strength of her, both spirit and body. But right now, we need to find her son. Our son.

The enormity of it hits me, and I bend my head over her, cradling her head in the crook of my neck. “Shh, shh,” I sooth her. “We’ll find him. We will not let Grandfather do to Catriona and Leland what he did to Albert and Amari, Leland’s parents.” And to Deborah, my mother. Because that was never a happy marriage.

I settle her into a corner of a battered, but comfortable couch. My American siblings have money to burn, but they’ve kept this disreputable, overstuffed monster. It sags under my weight, but it snuggles us like a well-padded nanny or grandmother. I guess that’s why it has survived. It must be someone’s treasured item.

The old woman from the garden brings a cup of wine. “See if you can get her to drink this,” she says. “It will take the edge off while we figure out what to do.”

“I don’t want it,” Maddy says. “I need my head clear.”

That I could understand. “A cup of tea?” I suggest. “Coffee?”

“Tea,” she says, “Green with honey and lemon. Or mint. I need to clear my sinuses.”

“Are you allergic to eucalyptus?” I ask.

She shakes her head to indicate no, while searching her pockets. I make a guess that she is looking for facial tissue or a hanky. I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket.

My father, Albert Lane, didn’t have many habits worth emulating, but he had always said that a prepared gentleman always had two things in his pocket: a handkerchief and a pocket knife. The latter isn’t legal on airplanes these days but I’d picked up a nice folding knife and a large stack of handkerchiefs at Johnson’s Pawn and Head shop in Freedom.

In another pocket, I carry my own version of smelling salts – a concoction of eucalyptus and mint, in a coconut oil base. “Rub this on your upper lip,” I say.

She follows my directions, and begins to breathe easier. But her eyes have not lost that stricken look. I’ve seen it often enough, in the shabby medical tents where we went to bring what healing help we could, where we could. I never thought I would see it here, in the United States, on the face of the woman in my dreams.

The grandmotherly woman returns with a steaming cup of tea. Madeline takes it, and sips. “Alright. I’m all right,” she says. “What is being done?”

I marvel at her strength and resilience.

The woman says, “Austin, Julia and the security team have all the dogs out tracking starting from where we last saw the children. Richard has gone to Spindizzy hospital to talk to the man who was stabbed today. He says it is too much of a coincidence that he was roughed up because he refused to do something. He hopes that the gentleman might be able to identify his attackers. Better yet, he hopes that he knows them.”

Madeline nods, trying to take it all in. I can see that although she hears the words, they probably aren’t making much sense.

“Anything else?” I ask.

The woman nods. “Charles is manning the phones, just in case another ransom call or note comes in. Pops is out alerting what he calls the ‘old coot’ brigade. Folks don’t pay much attention to middle-aged or old men puttering around in their yards, walking in the park or just sitting on a bench in the sun. He’s hoping someone saw something or heard something.”

Kate adds, “My brother, James, is too far away to help much, but he is running a search with Austin’s digital security analyst.”

“Did you check the hospitals? The traffic reports? The morgue?” Madeline asks. “The note could be a fake. What about buses, and other public transport? Is there any way to check with Uber?”

She’s pulled herself together so fast! She might not be thinking with complete clarity, but she is thinking. I try to come up with anything useful. “I can check the hospitals,” I say. “I’m just getting my credentials re-established, but they should carry me that far. And I can do morgues at the same time.” I can think of no good reason to put Madeline through that search.

“I’ve got traffic notifications and arrest records,” Slugger Lane, Richard’s oldest son says. “I just learned about public records in my last civics class.”

One by one, each person in the room selects a task, and quickly begins doing it. I want to be outside with the security team and the dogs, but I don’t know the area.

Charles says, “Cece has been kidnapped before. She and Paul both have good heads on their shoulders. I am sure they will look after Isabel. They will be doing their best to leave a breadcrumb trail or some other way to let us know where they are.”

The man looks calm and collected, as he sits with one arm around Kate and with his other child cuddled close. But to anyone who has been in a stressful situation, it is clear that he is holding himself together for the sake of his wife and baby. He probably wants to be out there as much as I do, but old war wounds have left him with a permanent limp.

As for me, I have found the woman who has occupied my dreams for years. I’ve also learned that I have a son, and perhaps have lost him all on the same day.

THE SEARCH

MADDY

After watching Dr. Lane call hospital after hospital, getting no news from them, I begin a phone search of my own.

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