Page 45 of Unwanted Vows

“How about the ‘Brave Little Tailor’?” he asks.

“Not if it’s about sewing,” Paul says scornfully.

“Only at the beginning,” he says. “Think you can make it through a slow start?”

I quietly lower a padded shelf, to get out a package of nuts and bottled water for myself.

“I guess,” Paul says, looking a little less scared but still uncertain.

Andrew gets a bottle of water and lowers another shelf. With the beds down, it is cozy, but not too close in the small store room.

He takes a drink, and begins, “Once upon a time. . . “

“Hey,” Paul interrupts. “You said this wasn’t a baby story.”

“It’s not,” Andrew says. “But like all traditional stories, it has a traditional beginning. Stick with me here, it gets exciting.”

“All right,” Paul says, settling back with his soda and fish crackers.

Andrew begins again, “Once upon a time a frail little tailor sat sewing upon a large coat. As he sewed, he grew hungry . . .”

Andrew embroidered on the simple story of how the tailor smacked flies that landed on the tailor’s bread and jelly, killing seven of them with one blow. And how he had sewn himself a banner, proclaiming the deed, then tricked giants, a band of knights, and a king, then eventually marrying the princess. He drew out the part about the giants, and cleaned it up a bit as well.

By the time the tailor tricked the giants, Paul had finished his drink, and used the half bath off the kitchen and brushed his teeth. When he comes back, he snuggles into his nest of pillows in the corner of the bed. Carousel cuddles with him, and Angel lies down across the door. Then he says,“So then what happened?”

Andrew widens his eyes. “He just tricked giants! What else should happen?”

“Mimi says that fairy tale adventures always come in threes,” Paul says. “So there’s got to be more.”

“So there is,” Andrew admits, and continues with how the tailor tricks the knights who come to see what is going on.

Before he reaches the part about the king and the princess, Paul’s eyes slowly drift shut, he curls up on the pillows, still listening, then his breathing slows, and he is asleep.

Just to be on the safe side, or perhaps for my benefit, Andrew finishes telling the story, doing his best not to mangle the punchline at the end. “Patch that coat, and make those trousers, or I’ll box your ears. I’ve killed seven at one blow, slain two giants, captured a unicorn, tamed a wild boar, so why should I be afraid of the two men standing outside my door?’ The men were so frightened they ran away, and the brave little tailor remained married to the princess and was king until the end of his days.”

We sit, holding hands, watching our son sleep. Carousel purrs, his soft rumble taking up where Andrew’s story left off.

He brings my hand to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles before cradling it against his face. “He’s quite a kid,” he says softly.

“Yes,” I say. “I think so. I’ve not had him tested, but it seems to me that he’s smarter than your average nine-year-old.”

“I don’t have much experience with nine-year-olds, other than to give them vaccines,” Andrew says. I don’t want to tell her about the small amount of experience I do have with children, the ones who had come to me were usually ill or injured. Some of them were starving and more like little old men and women than children.

“Is this what we are going to be doing?” I ask, “Tricking giants?”

“To some extent,” he says. “Maybe it wasn’t a good story selection, but I wanted something reassuring with a happy ending.”

“I suppose you could have told the ‘Bremen Town Musicians’,” I comment. “It’s similar in content.”

“True,” he says. Then he sits silent, holding my hand as if it is a talisman that can save him from having to face tomorrow.

“Are you worried?” I ask.

“Yes,” he admits “And a little afraid. I don’t want to be part of Grandfather’s world. I want to be what Richard called me – a success story that doesn’t owe anything to Grandfather or his ill-gotten money.”

“Is that why you helped Leland?” I ask.

He holds my hand against his cheek, cherishing it. “Leland is a good man,” he says. “I’m glad I got to know him as a friend before I learned that he is my father’s oldest son. It made what came later so much easier.”

---