Page 25 of Unwanted Vows

Charles pinches the bridge of his nose. “Cece…”

Cece looks guilty. She says, defensively, “I thought he meant Pops Quinn, so I said ‘Okay’, and we all went along with him.”

Paul adds, “Only when we got to the edge of the grove, some men grabbed us, stuck nasty smelling sacks over our heads, and we woke up in a dusty basement.”

Isabel spoke up at that point, “There wasn’t anything in that basement at all, not even a sink or bathroom. We were there for the longest time! I was sure glad to hear Ark-Ark barking, and to hear Austin calling us!”

Charles looks at his daughter. “Thanks for your honesty, little soldier. And you are correct. You messed up.”

“Am I court martialled?” Cece asks, looking a little worried.

“No,” Charles says, “But you are going to lose your stripes, and I foresee a lot of very boring chores in your future.”

I feel sorry for Cece. She looks as if she wishes the floor would swallow her up whole. It could have been worse. Better a little embarrassment than the way this story might have ended.

I say, “I think Paul and I should go home. It’s been a very long day.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Austin says. “Too much of a security risk. We don’t know who else might be lurking around.”

“Where can we go, then?” I almost wail.

Mrs. Quinn says, “You can stay with us in the main house tonight. There are plenty of guards there since it is Quinn Orchard headquarters. We even have Angel watching over us.”

I eye her askance. “An angel?”

“No, no,” she says. “Angel. One of Ark-Ark and Colleen’s pups. You’ll love her.”

Before I knew what was happening, Paul and I were whisked over to the “main house”, which is the Quinn’s home, their office, and their headquarters. It is located on the other side of the orchard from the fairgrounds, and was not far from the cook shack where we were dining.

That is where we met Colleen and Ark-Ark’s “pup”, Angel.

One should take the description of “pup” lightly. Angel is a white-coated version of her German Shepherd father. Thanks to her shaggy dog parentage, her favorite place is under the air conditioner in Kandy’s old room.

We weren’t the only ones placed under the Quinn’s roof for the time being. Andrew had been staying in a motel, but Austin wanted him closer at hand, so he was on the couch downstairs.

This seemed very middle class for the heads of a multi-million dollar corporation. I was surprised at the well-loved environment of the two-story ranch style home.

Then I realized, that’s exactly what this was – the family home for the Quinns, their daughter, Kandis, and even for her husband, Richard Lane, and their children.

“This should be secure enough for anyone,” Mimi Quinn declares, ushering us in the front door. “Plus, we have the night patrol that is always in the orchard and the vineyard.”

Paul immediately falls in love with Angel. “You are such a pretty pup,” he croons to her. “Such a pretty girl.” The big dog absolutely eats up the attention, rolling over on her back for belly rubs, and waving her paws in the air.

The Quinn’s house man, a stocky fellow with a deep tan and grizzled hair, brings in a genuine futon — the kind that is thick enough to be comfortable when sleeping on the floor – and places it on the floor in the bedroom.

I barely manage to persuade Paul to change out of his dusty clothing and into a clean t-shirt and underwear, before he flops on the futon. He is joined by Angel almost immediately.

I’m not perfectly sure this is a good arrangement, but both Paul and Angel seem to like it. Goodness knows, if a stranger comes in and tries to take my boy now, he will have his hands full. Even if Angel just knocks him down and licks him, the resultant furor will wake the house.

I sleep on the bed. It is a big bed, and my only sleeping partner is a dainty calico cat named Princess. But, when the lights are out, I stare up into the darkness. The day has been such a turmoil, I scarcely know where to start with processing the events.

The stabbing, the man declaring “I won’t do it,” the children being kidnapped, and then Andrew finally recognizing me. Well, realizing who I am, not recognizing.

His story of being injured seems odd, but brains are funny things. Medically speaking, we are just beginning to understand how they work.

I embrace the idea of sleep, even if it seems illusive. But my head just keeps spinning.

STRANGE NEW DAY

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