Page 40 of Provoked

He snorts. “Not like I will. Take care of her, Justin. She’s not made like the rest of the world. She’s tough, obviously, but she bruises easy.”

I nod, which he can’t see. “I know,” I respond soberly. “That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to collect her upstate and then I’m taking her to France. Can you maybe put it out there that we’re in Costa Rica or something?”

“You don’t think you’ll be spotted at the airport?”

“We’re going to fly out of Quebec. And change planes at Heathrow. I’ll be sure to wait near a gate for something headed to South America.”

“Roger that, boss. Good luck.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as I manage a smooth exit out of the underground garage without interference. The Mercedes isn’t ideal for this trip, but it does have completely tinted windows, so it won the vote hands down.

It’s a long drive upstate. The city congestion gives way to the rural kind. Where one person taking their time causes a logjam of cars that never seems to clear. Consequently, it’s afterseven when I pull up to my parents’ house. Milo didn’t say to come here, but he didn’t have to. It’s the center of the Wilde universe in Swan’s Forge.

Ingrid comes flying down the front steps as soon as I step out of the car. She stops just shy of hugging me, as if unsure of her welcome. I pull her into my arms and kiss properly.

She stills and then sags against me, one hand creeping up to rest against my throat. Then she pulls back to scan my face. “You’re okay? You’re not too mad?”

I shake my head in astonishment. “Why would I be mad? Oh, you mean because you put yourself in danger for me? Yeah, I’m a little peeved about that. But not so much that I’m not grateful to have you in my life, Ingrid.”

She flushes with relief and embarrassed pleasure. “Come in. Oh, that sounds silly when it’s your home, doesn’t it? Did you eat? Are you hungry?”

“That depends. What did Mom make?”

“Lasagna,” she answers sweetly.

“With all the mushrooms? Then I’m definitely hungry.”

With a light laugh, she tugs me by the hand up the stairs. When she pulls open the door, I see all my siblings and their spouses along with assorted offspring lined up on either side of the hallway.

“What, the prodigal son has to actually run the gauntlet now?” I ask dryly.

Eyes grow wide, but it’s Ingrid that answers. “No, silly. I forgot to tell you, though. Everyone is going to tell you something interesting that happened to them this week unrelated to the media events, and at the very end, it will be your turn. Go ahead, Sarah.”

Sarah, who must be a niece, looks to be about ten with red hair and freckles. She stares up at me before blurting, “Tommy tried to kiss me during recess.”

I frown at that. “Do I need to threaten Tommy’s parentswith a lawsuit?” I ask, only half-kidding. Sarah thinks about that for a minute. “Nooo. I punched him in the face. I don’t think he’ll try that again.”

I nod again, satisfied that she can take care of herself. My sister Carina informs me that apricots were on sale at the farmer’s market and she was able to buy enough to can for the entire winter. Her husband won twenty bucks on a lottery ticket. Their son ate a worm. By far the most interesting update so far, but I find the mundane isn’t nearly as boring as it used to be.

A young boy I don’t recognize is at the end of the line. He’s staring with wide eyes that hold a slightly anxious look. “Dylan? It’s your turn,” Ingrid says softly.

“Oh! Are you really my uncle?” he asks me.

I shrug. “If your parents told you that, it must be true.”

He chews on that for a second. “Well, I finished reading The Hero’s Journey by Joseph Campbell. I’m not sure I agree with all of his conclusions.” I blink at that. I read it years ago and found it a bit of a slog. And not particularly relevant to the world of law, although sometimes archetypes can be a useful profiling tool.

“I see. What are you reading next?”

Dylan frowns. “I can’t decide. The library is getting in the new translations of the French luminaries. Mrs. Brown said she’d set it aside so I could be the first to check it out,” he breathes in wonder.

I hold back a snort. In this town, there won’t be a line, but it’s nice of the librarian to make him feel special, I guess. “And the other choice?”

“There’s an old copy of Plato’s works in the library here. Grandma said I could borrow it.”

“Now it’s your turn, Justin,” Ingrid interrupts gently. “What happened to you this week?” Her brown eyes twinkle with delight.

I stare back down the line at my family — realizing that they’re genuinely willing to make an effort and down at Dylan knowing that he’s probably the reason they understand the need, finally. I pull Ingrid close to my side. “A girl came to my rescue and I’m not even mad about it.”

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