Page 42 of The Carver

“I accept your decision—and I respect it.”

My body had tensed in preparation for a fight, but now it relaxed.

“I feel no disappointment, Bastien. Your father was always a madman. I knew that the moment I met him.”

“Then why did you marry him?”

Her eyes dropped as she considered the question, and then a painful smile came over her face. “Because I liked that he was a madman.” She lifted her eyes again, tears pooled into the corners. “I liked his danger and his wildness. I liked the promise of an extraordinary life rather than an ordinary one. I liked a man who would be a father that would turn my sons into men instead of boys.” Her eyes glazed over as she savored the memories of a time before I was even born. Itstayed that way for minutes before her gaze sharpened on my face. “You’re the same, Bastien. With one major difference—your heart. You’ve always cared for others as much as you’ve cared for yourself. Godric was raised in your father’s image—a ruthless authoritarian who cares only for himself and his blood. But to you, we’re all the same blood. I’m proud of Godric because he’s the man we need for this family, but I’m just as proud of you for being greater than this family.” She reached for my hand, and she squeezed it again. “You can choose a different path. We can disagree on many things. But no matter what, you will always be a Dupont. You will always be my son.”

My hand squeezed hers. “Thank you, Mom.”

“I know you and your father had your differences, but he loved you very much.”

“Did he?” Because he didn’t call me once after I left the house. When I refused to be part of the family business, he said I was a disgrace to the Dupont name. He seemed perfectly content to have Godric as his only son. While I loved him in a very unusual way, I wasn’t sad that he was gone.

“Of course.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word on that.”

“He was a stubborn man. You know this.”

“Sounds like an excuse. Because if I were a father, there’s nothing that would stop me from having a relationship with my son. And I sure as fuck wouldn’t ask him to shoot a girl in his class when he was just fifteen years old. At any fucking age. You were right to call him a madman because only a madman would love his sons based solely on their use.”

There was a slight flinch to her eyes, like that assessment offended her.

“Don’t tell me my father loved me when all he felt for me was disappointment and then indifference.” I pulled my hand away from hers, feeling the surge of anger that had burned in my heart for years. “I’m sorry you lost him. Truly, I am. You don’t deserve to suffer like this.”

Her eyes remained down on the table.

“I’m sure Godric will make him proud.” I sullied the moment with my anger. My mother tried to comfort me with her love, but I pushed her away. My father was long dead, but he continued to haunt every room in which I stood.

“Bastien.” She looked at me with pleading eyes.

I should get up and leave, but I stayed. Stayed out of love and respect.

“We don’t need to draw a line in the sand. Despite our differences, we’re still a family. I want you in this family, Bastien. I want our family dinners on Sunday evenings. I want to call and have you answer. I love you with all my heart.”

Guilt struck me like a punch to the face. “I love you too, Mom.”

Her eyes crinkled as they softened. “You’re still a part of this family, Bastien. You always will be.”

We stood in the Père Lachaise Cemetery. It had just started to rain.

We’d picked a matte black casket in which to bury him. The service continued under a sea of black umbrellas, the falling rain the backdrop of sad music. The church had been packed with hundreds of people, but only a few dozen had come to the burial.

People said their goodbyes then left the cemetery, leaving my father to remain in the ground while everyone else carried on with their lives. Godric and I comforted our mother, who sometimes was delirious with sorrow and other times drier than a desert.

The clouds passed, and the rain moved to another spot in Paris. Streaks of sunshine came and went. The waterdrops reflected the light from where they hung on the leaves of the trees and the bushes.

Everyone departed, even my mother, and that left the two of us.

Me and Godric.

Godric hadn’t shed a tear. Didn’t show an ounce of sorrow—at least publicly. The men who were appointed to guard him kept their distance thirty feet away, creating a perimeter of protection.

Godric stood in a long black coat with gloves on his hands. He lifted his gaze and looked at me.

I stared back.

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