33

“Don’t try and run away!” I said, a little nervously. I could hear my own voice, high-pitched and squeaky. I wasn’t in a position to do anything.

“As if I could,” said the old man, as he sat down at the rock and lifted up his leg. I could see he’d hit it on a stone or something. It was bleeding.

“Who are you?” I said.

He looked up at me. I could see a sharp set of cheekbones between the lank, graying hair and the rough stubble. He’d been handsome once, long ago. And his eyes bore that familiar, icy blue, the same color as the lake that was shimmering next to us.

“I’m Max,” he said. “Max Linden. I’m Axel’s father.”

My mouth opened, and I heard myself gasp.

“It was you,” I whispered. “You faked the birth certificate.”

“You’re a smart one,” said Max, looking down at the water. Hedidresemble Axel—if Axel had lived rough, not caring about his appearance for years.

“What do you want with Axel! Haven’t you done enough?” I said.

“No, I’m not here to hurt him. Or you, for that matter. Though Luca would have paid handsomely for it. Still, at least there are some things an old bastard like me knows better than to do.”

“So why are you here?” I said, warily.

“I’m here to see him,” said the old man, slowly. “Or try to.”

“And how did you know he was here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been following you. Well, following him, that is.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere I could find. After that bastard Desilva got to me, I didn’t really know what to do. I knew I had to see him. I knew that I had to look at the face of the son I abandoned,” Max said, in a shuddering gasp.

“You…” I seethed, “…betrayed him.” Why did you do it?”

“Why?” said Max, and for the first time, I saw the sadness come back. He was in utter despair, looked beaten and broken down by life. “I don’t really know, dear. I needed the money, I suppose. That’s why I did it. Besides, it’s not like Luca told me what he was going to do with the thing. He just told me to forge a new one.”

“You knew it was wrong?”

“Did I? Have you ever asked Axel about me?”

I didn’t say anything. I’d known there was something, that Axel grew up rough, maybe without a dad. But I’d never felt brave enough to ask.

“Let’s just say, I wasn’t around much. And when I was, I was normally drunk—or high. When I left him, I thought I was doing the best I could.”

“Where have you been all these years?”

“What does it matter?” said a dark voice behind us.

I turned around, and saw Axel, there behind me. Moonlight on his face, and his eyes blazing with hatred.

Axel

I was dreaming. Dreaming of the apartment in Philly, the matted, tangled hair of the man as he slipped out of the door. I was calling to him, waiting for him to stop. “Don’t go,” I cried. “Don’t go, dad!”

Then, my eyes opened, and I heard the cry from outside: “Hey!” It was faint, but the voice was unmistakable. It was a voice I’d know anywhere.

It was Linda.

I’d had that dream a hundred times, but, I reflected, I hadn’t had it in some time. I got up and looked out through the window.

Linda must be at the southern end of the house. I slipped on my sweater and some pants, and put on a pair of shoes. I took the car keys, just in case we’d need to leave in a hurry. Had they found us?

I went down the stairs and through the living room. The house was quiet and still.

Where was Linda?

I went into the kitchen, and was about to leave when something caught my eye through the window. I stepped forward.

I peered down towards the lake, and rubbed my eyes which were bleary with sleep. I could see Linda, standing down the bank through the trees, by the lake. Her fiery red hair blowing behind her in the wind.

But who was she talking to? Far away, in the distance, I could hear voices. And ahead of Linda in the moonlight, I could see a tall, scraggly shape of a man, limping up the shore of the lake and sitting on a rock.

I watched them for a moment. Linda was talking to him. Who was he?

The back door was open. Stealthily, I stole down through it. But rather than heading down the bank, I made my way to the right, through the trees. As I drew close, I could hear voices.

The old man’s voice was hoarse as he spoke.

“I’m here to see him, or try to,” he said sullenly.

“And how did you know he was here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been following you. Well, following him, that is.”

“Where?”