12. Moving In

MOVING IN

MADDY

When four high-powered men put their heads together, things happen quickly. In record time, all my shabby furniture was moved in and placed in a cute cottage that was far nicer than anything I could afford.

A few things of Andrew's were mingled with them: a woven grass mat, a dining room table made from a slab of natural wood, a bed and nightstand that went in one of the smaller bedrooms. He had been living in an extended stay hotel room, so he did not have many personal belongings.

Andrew has one small bedroom, I have another bedroom. By mutual consent, we've given Paul the bigger bedroom. A kid's room is their private place, a multi-purpose retreat, not just storage for a bed and clothing. The big bedroom gives him room for a set of shelves to hold his treasures. The unit was donated by Austin, purchased from a weird little pawn shop in Freedom.

It has a matching desk, a lidded box for less important possessions, as well as a double bed, a chest of drawers, and a closet.

I'd never skimped on material things for Paul, but I hadn't indulged him, either. I earn a good salary at the clinic, but I still have student loans, and credit card debt I ran up while I was getting my degree and certification. We'd have enough, but not a lot of extra.

Now, Paul spins in place in the middle of his new room. "Wow!" he says, looking at his computer set up on the desk, the shelves with his things placed on them in some semblance of order. "Can I hang things on the walls?" he asks.

"You'll have to ask Austin," I say. "It's his house."

"Ask Austin what?" Austin walks in, carrying a floor lamp. "Thought you might like a bedside lamp."

"If I can put stuff on the walls?" Paul asks.

"Sure," Austin said. "If you decide to move stuff around, or if you guys move out, I'll get you to help me fix the holes. Just try to keep it down to pin pricks or small nail holes, ok? No fist holes through the wallboard."

Paul giggles. "As if I would ever," he says. "Mom would skin me for that."

Andrew sticks his head around the doorframe. "Everything okay in here? Do you need anything else, Paul? New mouse for the computer? Some puzzles?"

Paul gets a funny look on his face. "Mom? How old does he think I am? Six?"

I laughed. "Sweetie, he's only been around kids in hospital settings."

"That's not quite true," Andrew protested. "I spent last summer on Ildogis where there are lots of kids, including Hilda and Ezekial, the royal twins. They all loved puzzles."

I look at Paul, and he looks back at me, a big grin spreading across his face. "Yep, he thinks I'm six," he said. "Although, I wouldn't mind a pad of watercolor paper and a set of paints. Maybe a table easel, if you want to go big?"

This was a test, and I think Andrew knows it. He looks at me, and says, "If it is all right with your mother, I'll gladly buy you a whole art kit. Let's call it a make-up birthday gift to try to make up for all the birthdays I've missed."

When he put it like that, how could I refuse? "As long as the paint stays on the paper. If you decide you want to paint murals on your walls, you have to clear it with Austin first."

"I have a big collection of art material catalogs," Paul says excitedly. "Can I have anything I want?"

"Um," Andrew looks at me, then at Austin, realizing that he might have started something more than he anticipated.

"Why don't you talk to Rylie?" Austin suggests. "She's in charge of art materials at our house. She and Julia used to have a blast ordering from those catalogs, and our younger ones enjoy making messes on rainy days, although they aren't as into it as Julia."

"I don't mind if Julia and Aunt Rylie help," Paul says. "You should have seen the tree they drew on this huge paper."

I start. It seems so odd to hear him refer to Mrs. Moor as "Aunt Rylie" even though I now know that it is correct. How had we suddenly acquired all these high-powered relatives?

For a moment I feel completely overwhelmed. Rylie Lane Moor had a thriving fashion business, focusing on practical yet flattering clothing for every figure. I didn't think about it often because she and Kate were close friends, and Kate lived across the hall in my undergrad dorm.

Austin, dressed as he was this afternoon in shorts and an extremely loud Hawaiian shirt, could have been any surfer dude. But he was a hero to the other fellows in his combat unit, and his security business was the best anywhere around.

Dr. Lane wasn't just any wandering physician. He was the hero who had joined forces with his brother, Richard Lane, to get an entire village airlifted out of a battle zone – including their prized animals of various kinds.

How can this be happening to us? We'd lived carefully below the radar for the last nine years. Now, we are suddenly in the news, thanks to the kidnapping, and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous.

Paul looks up at me. He doesn't have to look up much. Already, the top of his head was up to my shoulder. He's going to be tall and lean, like his father. "You okay, Mom?" he asks.

"Yes," I make myself say. "Yes, it's just all a little sudden. I'm used to it being just us."

"I know," he says. "I'm sorry I let myself get kidnapped. That was pretty stupid of me, huh?"

"Oh, sweetie," I say, reaching out and drawing him to me in a hug. "That wasn't your fault. The secret would have been out as soon as someone saw you and Andrew in the same room together."

They look at each other, and both say, "Huh," in the same tone of voice, with the same inflection.

Then Andrew says, "However this all turns out, I'd like to take up my responsibilities as a father. I know that goes a long way beyond fancy art kits. I also know that Grandfather Aims isn't making the greatest impression on anyone."

Paul looks at his father for a minute, then he says quite soberly, "No, he isn't. So far, you've been alright. But if you hurt my mom, you'll be sorry."

Right then, I know that this particular apple hasn't fallen far from the tree. My son has just challenged his father, with all the attitude and bravado of any Lane.

Andrew replied to him with all the seriousness he might have directed to an adult male in my family. "I made a mistake years ago. I should have asked your mother to go with me. I didn't, and for reasons I'd rather not explain right now, I hid myself in Africa. I'm sorry for those lost years. I never meant to hurt your mother, or you, and I hope I never shall again."

Paul stood away from me, and crossed his arms. "Promise?" he said.

"I promise I will try," Andrew says. He then looks at me. "I'm human and prone to error, but I want to be part of your lives in whatever capacity you will allow me. But more than that, I want to keep you safe."

"We'll all help," Austin says, gripping his brother-in-law's shoulder. "And I promise you, Paul, if he needs it, I'll hold him while you kick his butt."

That sets Paul to giggling, which breaks the tension.

"So, art stuff and big paper," Andrew says briskly. "Are we all set here? Because Grandfather Aims' airplane is due to set down in about forty-five minutes."

"As ready as we can be," I say. I layer on a large degree of snark and sarcasm as I say, "You are my newly re-discovered sugar-woogams, and we are passionately in love. So much so that we are moving in together to renew our relationship. I'll add something, Andrew Lane. Paul is my son. You'll have to kill me to take him from me."

"Oh, Maddy," Andrew says, with real pain showing in his eyes, "Never in all the world would I want to do that. Truly, I would not."

I sigh, look down and look away. Yes, there was the man I'd danced with, made love with, all those years ago. But he was also the man who was gone in the morning. I want to trust him, I want to believe that he had not known he was a father until just this week. But this is my son we were talking about, the child I'd fled from New York to protect, the baby boy who is dearer to me than life itself.

I give myself a mental shake and put on as professional a mom face as I can muster.

"Very well then. We have guests expected. Mimi Quinn is bringing dinner. We might need my old dining table, the one with the leaves, in addition to your lovely table, Andrew."

"We have guests coming?" he asks, surprised.

"Of course," Austin says. "You didn't think we were going to make you face the grand-terror on your own, did you? The Quinns are catering, and Charles will be here as an impartial witness. We are also bringing in a physician from Spindizzy to review the medical case. If he is as sick as he says he is, it might be a good idea to have a place ready for him."

"Not here," Andrew and I say, almost as one.

"No, not here," Austin agrees. "Charles has a hospice room set up for him, with hot and cold running nurses, so to speak."

Andrew gives a snort. "Better make them male nurses. I doubt the old toad will ever be too sick to fail to make a pass. Unless they are made of titanium, the ladies are unlikely to turn him down."

"He's ugly and mean," I say. "Easy to turn down. Five days driving, and a lost scholarship's worth of turning down."

Andrew studies me for a minute. "I am so sorry, Madeline. I've hurt you in more ways than I knew."

It made me angry for him to say it that way, but another part of me felt soothed. He understood what I gave up to protect our son. And he gave me the courtesy of not telling me he would make it up to me.

I could have transferred my credits and started over, but it would have been at the expense of giving Paul the best care possible in his first months of life.

Kate and her family had supported me through that time. I owe them more than I will ever be able to repay. Now, she and Charles are still supporting me, helping me through this latest crisis.

"Madeline," Andrew says, reaching out a hand toward me.

Whatever he was going to say was lost in the barking of guard dogs, and the sound of opening and closing car doors.

Andrew let his hand drop, and a stony mask fell over his face.

"Showtime," he snarls. "He's here."