Page 78 of Unwanted Vows

“Yes,” Andrew says. “Just as my brother Leland so often says. In the end, it comes down to taking care of the people.” He turns to the others.

The viewing was held in a chapel attached to the hospice. Friends and enemies lined up around the block to see for themselves if the giant was truly dead. The family children are given a choice whether to look at the remains or not. Paul chooses to look.

“He doesn’t look real,” is his only comment. “Kind of like a wax doll.”

“That’s because the embalmers try to make the person look as much like they were just asleep as possible. Some people prefer not to have a viewing at all, but because of who he was, it is important that everyone knows he truly is gone,” I say.

“I guess I get that,” my son says. “Can I go back to the Bunker and play video games with the other kids now?”

I look at Andrew.

“Yes,” he says. “There is no need for you to be here. Plenty of time for you to show up as the heir later on.”

Charles and Kate, being completely unrelated to the deceased, take all the children back to the Bunker where they can safely play in the secure school room.

It worries me to let Paul out of my sight. Andrew wraps one arm around me. “You have good friends,” he says. “And Austin does a bang up job of building a secure place to hunker down.”

“He does that,” I say, wondering if we will ever be secure enough to move back into a regular house.

The service is held outside in the hospice gardens because there is not enough room in the small chapel for everyone to be seated.

Suddenly, there is a commotion at the back of the rows of chairs. A tall man with a middle-age paunch sprints up the aisle and into the chapel. Men and women in Moor Security uniforms run after him.

“Shooter!” someone screams. “Active shooter!”

About half the audience drops to the ground, some of them huddling under the chairs. Most of the others freeze in place, wondering what to do. Some, seated at the edges or the back, quickly leave.

Andrew stands up. “It’s only one man,” he calls out, his voice pitched to carry above the hubbub of hundreds of voices. “Keep calm, the security team will have him in a minute.”

As he speaks, there comes the rattle of automatic gunfire from inside the chapel, then silence.

In just a few minutes, the security team comes back out with the man, his hands zip tied behind him. Before anyone can stop him, the man yells out, “If the bastard wasn’t dead before, he is now!”

One of the security team stops off and tells Andrew, “Heck of a mess in there, sir. Spattered the corpse, coffin and floral arrangements all over. Should I get a hazmat team here for cleanup?”

“Yes,” Andrew says steadily, “Please do.”

My throat is dry, but I find my voice. “Thank goodness the children are all back at the Bunker and safe,” I say.

“A very good thing,” Andrew says, holding me tight, “And a good thing that the only person shot was already dead.”

“Is there likely to be more of this?” I ask.

“Sadly, yes,” he says. “Especially when we start moving people from the city to the work site. We have a long, hard journey ahead of us. Will you help me, Maddy?”

I knew that he was asking for more reassurance than just that. Our marriage had been hasty, we barely knew each other. Yet, after this week, I am sure I can trust him, and I know I love him.

“Yes,” I say, “In every way possible.”

“Good,” he says, “Because I love you more than anything in the world. But I still need to honor my promises to Grandfather.”

“I know,” I say. “I love you more than anyone except possibly Paul.”

“That’s all right,” he says. “Kids first, always. He’s a great kid, even if I swear sometimes he is more grown up than most of the adults I know.”

“He is, rather, isn’t he?” I say. “He is so like you that no one would know that you only just met a few weeks ago.”

The crowd settles down, and we hold hands through the rest of the eulogy. I don’t pay much attention to it, most of it is platitudes anyway. I focus on the warmth and strength of Andrew’s hand in mine, and his solid presence.

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