Page 68 of Unwanted Vows

“Your grandfather is asking for you. He says you should bring your wife?” The speaker’s confusion is clear in her voice.

“I can do that,” I say. “Anyone else?”

“No,” says the voice on the phone. “Oh, wait. Yes, bring the boy, your son.”

“Very well. I hope you don’t mind, I’ll be bringing bodyguards.”

“To visit your grandfather?” the voice on the phone sounds scandalized.

“Especially to visit my grandfather,” I say, letting out the amusement that I do not feel color my voice. The old subterfuges were coming back to me. I hated it. Hated every part of what I would need to be. I only hoped that Maddy would continue to understand, and that she will stay with me.

“All right,” I say. “Shall we bring breakfast?”

“No, no,” the voice said. “But come right away.”

I turn to wake Maddy, but find her looking at me with those unusual forest pool eyes.

“Grandfather?” she asks.

I nod. “He wants you and Paul, as well. The nurse who called says it is urgent.”

“All right,” she says. “I’ll wake Paul. Should I dress for the occasion?”

“Wear whatever is handy,” I say, pulling jeans and t-shirt out of my bag. They aren’t too rumpled. They will do.

Paul is already up when we exit our room, and he is feeding himself from the contents of the kitchenette. Good kid that he is , he has fixed cold cereal for himself and is drinking a glass of juice. This, despite the variety of alcoholic beverages available in the wet bar across the room.

“The only orange juice is a mixer,” he says by way of greeting. “Hope it's ok that I have some.”

“Just as long as you didn’t add anything to it,” Maddy says, giving Paul a hug.

“Just mixer,” he says, showing her the bottle. “It tastes really good.”

Maddy laughs, and hugs her son. The bottle label read, “Ultimate Premium Margarita Mix”.

“It’s got kind of a bitter flavor, sort of like grapefruit,” Paul said. “But I think I’d like to have it again. It tastes better than regular grapefruit.”

“I’m sure it would,” I say. “I’ve never had it for breakfast.” I didn’t mention the after hours drinks with the additive his mother didn’t want him to have. “Do you want something?” I ask, looking at Maddy.

She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can. I’d just vomit it all back up.”

I know the feeling, but that doesn’t really matter. It is time to go visit with the aging lion in his den. I think of the stage play, “Lion in Winter” where Eleanor of Aquitaine meets with the king of England and their sons for a holiday celebration. My grandfather might be dying, but he is still dangerous.

Like Maddy, I have no appetite. In minutes, we call Austin to let him know where we need to go, then collect our bodyguards, including the three dogs and Austin. Rylie wants to come with us, but I veto that. Fortunately, so does Austin.

We load into a vehicle that looks like nothing so much as a ‘soccer mom van’, but from the way it sits on the tires, I can tell that it is an armored car, disguised to look like a passenger vehicle. Austin is taking no chances with our safety.

As we climb in, Paul selects a seat and gives an experimental bounce on it. “Nice!” he says.

Austin, who is acting as our driver, glances up in the rear view mirror. “Buckle up,” he calls back. “No gymnastics on my seats!”

His words were stern, but I could hear the humor behind the directions. Paul must have heard it, too, for he grins that maddening Lane grin. Even so, he stops his antics and buckles up.

Maddy settles into the seat behind Paul, making room for me. She is quiet, but watchful.

“Paul,” I say, “This meeting could become very ugly. If I had a choice, I would not bring you with us, but Grandfather has asked for you. I will probably say some things that are shocking and more than a little mean.”

“I get it,” Paul says. “It’s like the shoot-out at the OK Corral. You’ve got to talk tough and look mean so the other guys will respect you.”

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