Page 64 of Unwanted Vows

“I’m still thinking about it,” she says. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

“Should we look in on him before we . . .?” I let the sentence drift, afraid to complete it.

She nods, then turns and taps lightly on our son’s door.

“Mom?” Paul’s sleepy voice answers.

“You decent?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, “But I can’t move, so if you want to say goodnight again, you’ll have to come in.”

The sight that meets our eyes when Maddy opens the door is heart-warming and sweet in the way that only children and pets can be. Angel lays across the head of the bed and Paul leans against her. His tousled blond hair was almost as light as her fur. Carousel is curled on his chest, purring loud enough we can hear him across the room.

The curtains to the “window” are pulled open, displaying a wide screen television with a trio of animals, a yellow lab, a siamese cat, and an English bull terrier romping across the screen. Paul is watching “The Incredible Journey”, the story of how three animals make their way across the country to their former home.

“I’m fine,” our perceptive, precocious offspring says with a trace of irritation. “Go to bed, Mom, Dad, let me watch my movie.”

I feel as if my heart will spill over with emotion. I don’t know what to call it, but the son I didn’t know about until three days ago just called me “Dad.”

I hug Maddy close, and she hugs me back. She knows. She understands.

“Just checking on you,” she says. “Love you, Paul.”

“Usiku mwema, lala salama,” I say, using the Swahili words I’d heard the nurses say to the little ones placed in our care. I didn’t quite dare add, ‘love you, son’, but I hoped the way I said it would carry the message.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“Just ‘good night, sleep well’,” I say.

“You too,” he says. “Now go away, they are about to have dinner at the crazy man’s house.”

Laughing, we withdraw. Our boy is fine.

IN XANADU

MADDY

Paul had well and truly put us in our place. I might have been offended, but it is so good to see him settling in and feeling secure. I get the giggles as soon as we close the door, and I am still bubbling with mirth as Andrew gently pulls me across the hall and through our door, closing it behind us.

I’ve lost a little of the hormonal haze that had fallen over me during the song. Andrew must sense my change of mood because he says quietly, “I can sleep on the couch if you prefer.”

“Is that what you want to do?” I ask.

“No,” he says, “Not in the least. I want to begin at the top of your head and kiss you down to your toes and all in between. I want to make you moan and scream with desire. But most of all, I want to sleep in the same bed with you because that is what you want; not because my daft old grandfather decided we should.”

“Good,” I say. “Because that is what I want, too. Except for the screaming part. We’ll need to be quiet.”

Andrew wraps those long arms of his around me and whispers in my ear, “I can be very, very quiet. Can you?”

His breath on my ear rekindles the flame inside me, like blowing on live coals. “Then let’s be glad that your grandfather at least got one chore out of the way for us, and get to the fun part,” I say.

Andrew gives me that wicked, lopsided Lane grin, begins unbuttoning my shirt, and says, “As you wish.”

“Are you my dread pirate?” I ask, making reference to the Princess Bride.

“I am,” he says, with mock ferocity. “Be still while I ravish you, wench, lest I keel haul ye.”

The effect of the threat was somewhat spoiled because he made it in a harsh whisper, then nibbled on my ear in a way that sent lighting shooting from my head to my toes. I started giggling again, as much from nerves as from his funny pirate talk.

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