Page 10 of Unwanted Vows

Charles’ face takes on a grim set that suggests heads will roll if he can just discover who to punish for the harm to his child.

Julia slips into the room. “ Charles? Is she all right? I am so, so sorry. She was through the fence and under the skirting before I could stop her.”

“Where are the rest of your charges?” Charles asks.

“They are with Kate, in the nap room. Everyone is being very, very quiet, I promise.”

Charles groans. “I wanted Kate to take a nap. Our baby, Thomas, still wakes up with nightmares. I don’t suppose there’s any chance she’s resting?”

Julia looks nervous. “I don’t know if you would call it resting, exactly. She’s sitting in the reclining rocker, cuddling Thomas and reading Wind in the Willows to everyone.”

“It could be worse,” Charles says. “But you can see, Andrew, more supervision is needed, and better security.”

Other memories flash through my mind. Children toting guns, children laboring in the fields or sent into the tiny spaces in mines regardless of the risk to their safety, children in regimented rows sitting at desks or being marched to their meals and their tasks.

I certainly won’t argue against the value of protecting children. But perhaps it made them softer, and shorter on street smarts. I’d grown up in the care of servants, then in a series of boarding schools, so who was I to judge? Could there be a compromise between protection and restriction?

“Maybe tighten up the security precautions at the rides,” I say. “Check the screens and fences meant to keep animals and small children out of the works. I know I’m not a parent, but it seems to me that you want to give the kids a little freedom to explore.”

Charles seems to consider that. “You have a point,” he says.

“Dad can help,” Julia says. “I heard him say at breakfast that he wanted to bring in another team, this one with dogs.”

“They need to be good doggies,” Cece puts in. “They need to catch stuff, not kill it. A mean dog would have hurt the cat.”

Charles laughs and hugs his daughter. “All right. I know when I’m defeated. Austin does a fantastic job of training his dogs, and they are all trained to hold or retrieve without harming what they’ve caught. Ark-Ark, Colleen, Grendel and Angel are nothing short of amazing. This week is the first time I’ve seen them in action, and it was only a practice ring, but I am sure they do well in the field.”

“Gidget is a smart doggie, too,” Cece says, defending her aging pet.

I’m getting a lot of names thrown at me in rapid order. “Ark-Ark, Colleen, Grendel and Angel? Gidget?”

“Sorry,” Julia says. “Colleen is a registered great pyrenees who got together with Ark-Ark, Austin’s original security dog. He’s a registered German Shepherd that washed out of K-9 training because he wouldn’t stop barking. Grendel and Angel are two of their pups. While not qualified to register or show, they are excellent guard dogs. They are gentle, patient, and easy to train. Gidget…well, Gidget was Cece’s first pet. She’s a standard poodle, with the intelligence and nervous disposition that go with that breed. Cece has done a good job training her for basic stuff, but she’s more like an alarm system when it comes to guard dog duty.”

“They are all good dogs,” Cece says firmly.

“If you want dogs that will catch and hold,” I say, “ You might want one of the herding breeds. You could talk to Zuri, my half-sister. She and our brother, Cole, are both good with animals. They are taking care of the Ildogis elephant and leopard exhibits.” I remember helping air lift those animals from the mining town in Africa to the hidden island in the Hebrides.

“I’ll do that,” Charles says.”See what you’ve started?” he asks his daughters.

“Will I get to pick out the new dogs?” Cece asks.

“Possibly,” he says. “Now, hop down and go to your mother. You should lie down and rest a while. Julia, see if you can get Kate to go lie down for a little while as well. Andrew, let’s go tell Ms. Northernfield that she’s going to have a colleague. I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but a line built up while you and Ms. Northernfield were working on Isabel.”

Now I understand his concern. If this is to be the fair of the year, one that showcased an organic community as well as organic growing processes, a first aid station with a long line was poor advertising in several different regards. Even though the fair is intended to give back to the local community, it’s also meant to promote Charles’ business and the farm.

Julia ushers Cece down the hall, presumably to the nap room. Charles and I step out into the blindingly bright California sun. I can almost feel the air sizzle on my skin.

“Will she really be alright?” Charles asks.

I almost laugh. Here is a decorated veteran, a business tycoon, asking me if his precious oldest daughter was going to be all right after a kitten bit her.

“She will be,” I tell him. “The vet will check the cat for diseases, but she is almost certain that there is nothing wrong with the poor little thing that can’t easily be cured with food, water, and standard preventative measures.”

He nods to show that he has heard me. There is once again a line outside the medical facility. “Looks like we’re just in time,” Charles says. “Competency aside, Ms. Northernfield is only one person.”

We go in by a side door, bypassing the line of people waiting for help. As we enter, Ms. Northernfield is extracting a splinter from a worker’s finger.

“I see what you mean,” I murmur. “Nothing drastic, but each person is a little slice of time.”

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