Page 31 of Unwanted Vows

“Why don’t you talk to Rylie?” Austin suggests. “She’s in charge of art materials at our house. She and Julia used to have a blast ordering from those catalogs, and our younger ones enjoy making messes on rainy days, although they aren’t as into it as Julia.”

“I don’t mind if Julia and Aunt Rylie help,” Paul says. “You should have seen the tree they drew on this huge paper.”

I start. It seems so odd to hear him refer to Mrs. Moor as “Aunt Rylie” even though I now know that it is correct. How had we suddenly acquired all these high-powered relatives?

For a moment I feel completely overwhelmed. Rylie Lane Moor had a thriving fashion business, focusing on practical yet flattering clothing for every figure. I didn’t think about it often because she and Kate were close friends, and Kate lived across the hall in my undergrad dorm.

Austin, dressed as he was this afternoon in shorts and an extremely loud Hawaiian shirt, could have been any surfer dude. But he was a hero to the other fellows in his combat unit, and his security business was the best anywhere around.

Dr. Lane wasn’t just any wandering physician. He was the hero who had joined forces with his brother, Richard Lane, to get an entire village airlifted out of a battle zone – including their prized animals of various kinds.

How can this be happening to us? We’d lived carefully below the radar for the last nine years. Now, we are suddenly in the news, thanks to the kidnapping, and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous.

Paul looks up at me. He doesn’t have to look up much. Already, the top of his head was up to my shoulder. He’s going to be tall and lean, like his father. “You okay, Mom?” he asks.

“Yes,” I make myself say. “Yes, it’s just all a little sudden. I’m used to it being just us.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry I let myself get kidnapped. That was pretty stupid of me, huh?”

“Oh, sweetie,” I say, reaching out and drawing him to me in a hug. “That wasn’t your fault. The secret would have been out as soon as someone saw you and Andrew in the same room together.”

They look at each other, and both say, “Huh,” in the same tone of voice, with the same inflection.

Then Andrew says, “However this all turns out, I’d like to take up my responsibilities as a father. I know that goes a long way beyond fancy art kits. I also know that Grandfather Aims isn’t making the greatest impression on anyone.”

Paul looks at his father for a minute, then he says quite soberly, “No, he isn’t. So far, you’ve been alright. But if you hurt my mom, you’ll be sorry.”

Right then, I know that this particular apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree. My son has just challenged his father, with all the attitude and bravado of any Lane.

Andrew replied to him with all the seriousness he might have directed to an adult male in my family. “I made a mistake years ago. I should have asked your mother to go with me. I didn’t, and for reasons I’d rather not explain right now, I hid myself in Africa. I’m sorry for those lost years. I never meant to hurt your mother, or you, and I hope I never shall again.”

Paul stood away from me, and crossed his arms. “Promise?” he said.

“I promise I will try,” Andrew says. He then looks at me. “I’m human and prone to error, but I want to be part of your lives in whatever capacity you will allow me. But more than that, I want to keep you safe.”

“We’ll all help,” Austin says, gripping his brother-in-law’s shoulder. “And I promise you, Paul, if he needs it, I’ll hold him while you kick his butt.”

That sets Paul to giggling, which breaks the tension.

“So, art stuff and big paper,” Andrew says briskly. “Are we all set here? Because Grandfather Aims’ airplane is due to set down in about forty-five minutes.”

“As ready as we can be,” I say. I layer on a large degree of snark and sarcasm as I say, “You are my newly re-discovered sugar-woogams, and we are passionately in love. So much so that we are moving in together to renew our relationship. I’ll add something, Andrew Lane. Paul is my son. You’ll have to kill me to take him from me.”

“Oh, Maddy,” Andrew says, with real pain showing in his eyes, “Never in all the world would I want to do that. Truly, I would not.”

I sigh, look down and look away. Yes, there was the man I’d danced with, made love with, all those years ago. But he was also the man who was gone in the morning. I want to trust him, I want to believe that he had not known he was a father until just this week. But this is my son we were talking about, the child I’d fled from New York to protect, the baby boy who is dearer to me than life itself.

I give myself a mental shake and put on as professional a mom face as I can muster.

“Very well then. We have guests expected. Mimi Quinn is bringing dinner. We might need my old dining table, the one with the leaves, in addition to your lovely table, Andrew.”

“We have guests coming?” he asks, surprised.

“Of course,” Austin says. “You didn’t think we were going to make you face the grand-terror on your own, did you? The Quinns are catering, and Charles will be here as an impartial witness. We are also bringing in a physician from Spindizzy to review the medical case. If he is as sick as he says he is, it might be a good idea to have a place ready for him.”

“Not here,” Andrew and I say, almost as one.

“No, not here,” Austin agrees. “Charles has a hospice room set up for him, with hot and cold running nurses, so to speak.”

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