Page 62 of Unwanted Vows

In fact, our family time could be counted in hours rather than days.

Maddy seems to understand what I am feeling. “Give him time,” she says. “He’s not known you as his father for more than three days. In every sense of the word, you are a stranger to him.”

My father had been a stranger to me, even though I’d known who he was. He breezed in for a few minutes a time or two per week. I didn’t want to be that kind of father to Paul. But I know she is right. You can’t force these things.

I open my arms to her, and she comes to me willingly enough. Her head fits right under my chin, and her hair tickles my throat. She shivers in my arms.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

“Tired,” she replies, “and scared.”

“So am I,” I say. “But I’m not going anywhere. I am here. If you are willing, we will see this through together.”

“Do we have a choice?” she asks.

I think about that for a minute or two, holding her warm, lithe body against me. I rest my cheek on top of her hair. It has an herbal scent, something spicy but not edible. She’s changed shampoo. I think I like this one. But I liked the other one, too.

“There are always choices,” I say slowly. “But I think our best one is to present a united front. Grandfather is like a force of nature, difficult to stop, nearly impossible to avoid. But a skilled surfer can ride the wave, a sailing ship can turn into the storm and survive. Prepared communities can even divert some of the flow of a volcano.”

“But an earthquake?” she asks, tipping her face to mine. “A forest fire?”

“Even those you can plan for,” I reply. “Although it is a challenge. And you need to know exactly what it is you are preparing for. The two don’t necessarily require the same kinds of preparation. Set up for the wrong one, and you just might have a disaster.”

“So what is your Grandfather?” she asks.

I know she is asking about more than natural disasters. “He’s his own kind of force,” I say. “I’m not sure what to call him. A tyrant? A petty despot? A drug lord?”

“Godfather?” she supplies.

I shake my head in silent mirth. “Oh, that movie! Vito Corleone is gentle and innocuous compared to Grandfather Aims. He does not idealize the world. He uses it.”

“I don’t understand,” she says. “Is he really that selfish?”

“He could have written ‘The Virtues of Selfishness’ if Ayn Rand hadn’t beaten him to it,” I say. “He doesn’t usually work with assassins or blood in the street. He does worse things — character assassinations, perpetual unemployment, blackmail, threats against loved ones. By the time he is finished, your dearest friend will be your worst enemy.”

“Paul,” she says.

“Paul,” I answer. “But we aren’t going to let that happen.”

“You aren’t going to kill him, are you?” she asks, her eyes wide.

“If I thought it would help, I would,” I say, inwardly flinching away from the shock on her face. “But it won’t. He is dying. And he has signed the business over to me. Remember, it was not the heads of family who killed the brother or the young bridegroom. It was the cousins, the uncles, the associates.”

“What are you saying?” Maddy looks at me as if I’ve suddenly grown two heads. “Andrew, you’re scaring me.”

I hold her close. Not too hard, to cherish, not to hurt. “Sometimes, I scare myself,” I say. “That’s why I became a doctor, to set my hand to saving lives, not destroying them.”

She leans her head into my chest. “That doesn’t answer my question,” she says.

I sigh. “I know. And I won’t really know the answer until I meet with Grandfather, my brothers, Tulok Ildogis, and Charles Emory. For tonight, I trust Austin Moor to keep us safe.”

“What’s so special about this place?” she asks. “To me, it just looks like a big hotel.”

“Did you expect it to look like something out of a movie?” I ask, smoothing her soft, dark hair.

“With a name like ‘the bunker’, I kind of did,” she says.

“Then think about this,” I say. “I’m pretty sure that big front glass is the so-called bulletproof stuff, and that the decorative trim at the top is a blast shield. You probably didn’t notice because it is night outside, but there are no windows in here. And there are security guards just about everywhere, wearing either Moor security or Spindizzy uniforms.”

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