Lone Wolf

Anyone who gives a shit about me or my father.”

“Do you really think I don’t love you? Or Luke, for that matter?”

I can’t help it. Chopping lettuce and tomatoes, I flinch.

“You’ve got your perfect little family now,” Cara says bitterly. “I’m just here till you pull the plug, right?”

Georgie reels back. “That’s not fair,” she replies. “I’ve never chosen between you and the twins.”

“But you did choose between me and Edward, didn’t you,” Cara says flatly. “You followed him downstairs at the hospital. You made excuses for him. You got him a lawyer.”

“I love him, Cara. I’m doing what I have to do for him.”

Cara folds her arms. “I’m doing what I have to do for Dad.”

There is a long silence. Then Georgie comes forward and pushes Cara’s hair out of her eyes. “I’m not making excuses for your brother, and I don’t love him more than I love you. But Edward doesn’t want to kill your father. He just wants to let him die. There’s a difference, Cara, even though you won’t let yourself see it.”

She slips out of the kitchen, and Cara throws herself onto a stool, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t mean to get her all worked up, you know.”

I slide a plate of loc lac in front of her. “Guess it’s a gift you have.”

“Will you take me to the hospital?”

“Nope. I still have to go talk to my client. If you want to visit your dad, you’re going to have to reinstate diplomacy with your mother.”

“Great,” she mutters. Then she looks up at me. “Does Edward know what I did?”

“Oh yeah.” I rest my elbows on the counter, across from her. “He heard the whole testimony.”

“I bet he wants to kill me.”

“If I were you, I’d be a little more careful about throwing that phrase around,” I say. “You could have wound up in jail yourself, you know. For perjury.”

“I wouldn’t have let him go to jail, for real. If it got that far, I would have said something-”

“Unfortunately, the law doesn’t bend to the whims of a seventeen-year-old. Once the state pressed charges, it would have been out of your hands.”

She grimaces. “I really didn’t mean to lie. It just sort of slipped out.”

“Just like it slipped out when you lied to the police about drinking the night of the accident?” I ask.

Cara lifts her face to mine. Her eyes are wide, and I can see secrets swimming in them, like koi in the dark shallows of a pond. “Yes,” she admits.

“That’s not the only thing you lied about, is it?” I press.

She shakes her head, silent.

I am hoping that, this time, our shared Cambodian cooking moment might bleed into a conversation. I am hoping that, because I’m not part of the universe of this family, but only a satellite, she will be more willing to talk to me. But then there is the sound of a door slamming, and the helium bubbles of the twins’ voices spill into the hallway. “Daddy! Daddy!” Elizabeth cries. “I made a mermaid picture for you!”

“Jackson, let me unlace your boot,” Georgie says. Her voice is still shaky, and I know her well enough to realize she is grateful for the distraction, for the pudgy hands that grip her shoulders as she works off our son’s shoe and for the smell of him, pure child, when she buries her face in the right angle of his neck. A moment later, the twins bounce into the kitchen and cling to my legs like mollusks. Elizabeth thrusts the damp finger painting upward; it droops over her hands.

“That is some mermaid,” I say. “Don’t you think so, Cara?”

But the stool where she’s been sitting is empty. Her plate of loc lac is full and steaming-the first Cambodian meal I’ve cooked for her that she hasn’t devoured.

I wonder how someone can leave in the blink of an eye without you even noticing.

And just like that, my mind drifts to Luke Warren.

Later that day, I receive a text from Danny Boyle. There’s no message, just a snapshot of the dismissal form he’s filed in court.

I drive over to Georgie’s old place. Edward opens the door wearing a Beresford High School T-shirt and a pair of threadbare sweatpants. “He kept my clothes,” Edward says. “They were in a box in the attic. What do you think that means?”

“That you’re overthinking,” I tell him. I hand him his passport. “Congratulations. You’ve got your life back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The indictment’s been voided. The whole charge has been revoked. You can go to the hospital and see your dad; you can go back to Thailand if you want; you can do anything and go anywhere you like. It’s like none of this ever happened.”

Edward envelops me in a bear hug. “I don’t know what to say, Joe. Honestly. What you’ve done for me…”

“I did it for your mom,” I tell him. “So do me a favor and consider how she’s going to feel before you jump off the deep end again.”

Edward ducks his head, nods.

“You want to come over to the house? See your mother? I know she’d like that.”

“I’m going to head to the hospital,” Edward says. “See if anything’s changed.”

I am about to wish him well when the doorbell rings. I follow him into the mudroom as he opens the door to a man wearing a leather jacket and a wool fisherman’s cap. “Sorry to bother you,” the man says. “I’m looking for Edward Warren?”

“That’s me,” Edward answers.

The man holds out a small blue folder. “You’ve been served,” he says, and he smiles and walks away.

Edward takes the folded legal documents out of the folder. In Re Luke Warren, I read across the top. “What is this?” he asks.

I take it from him and quickly scan the pages. “It’s a lawsuit that’s been filed by the hospital in probate court,” I explain. “A temporary guardian has already been appointed by the court for your father; an expedited hearing is going to be held on Thursday to appoint a permanent guardian for him.”

“But I’m his son,” Edward says. “Cara’s not even legal yet.”

“It’s possible that the judge will decide, given the… recent turn of events… to make the temporary guardian appointment a permanent one.” I look up at him. “In other words, neither you nor Cara would be calling the shots.”

Edward stares at me, his chest rising and falling. “A total stranger? That’s crazy. That’s what you do when no one steps up to the plate for the job. For God’s sake, I have a signed letter from my father telling me to make this decision for him.”

“Then you’d better play nice with this woman when she comes to interview you,” I suggest. “Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Cara got a little blue folder just like this, and that she’s going to work very hard to get the temporary guardian to believe she’s the best candidate to take care of your father.”

There is a standard in probate court unlike any other civil suit. In order to get a guardian appointed for someone, the plaintiff has to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that this person is irrevocably incapacitated. In other words, to take away someone’s civil rights and liberties, you have to prove a criminal burden.

“Edward,” I say, “I think it’s time I saw that letter.”

LUKE

Years after I came out of the wild, when I was working with Ukrainian farmers to divert wolf packs from their land and their cattle, I observed the most remarkable thing. There was a pack whose pups had been separated by biologists. One was sent off in one direction, the other was sent off in the opposite direction. Years later, they had formed rival packs, and one day, I saw them meet on a breach line of territory. They stood with their brethren, bristling, teeth bared, on two facing ridges.

As soon as the litter mates saw each other, they ran to the no-man’s-land between the territories and greeted each other, brother and sister rolling in the grass and having a grand old reunion.