Chapter 7
I did not name Laura immediately.
That would have made Margaret’s violence the reason.
Laura deserved better.
Instead I called the senior family together the next morning.
David attended.
Emma did not.
She was busy doing something more important.
Coloring.
I placed one chair at the end of the table.
Empty.
Margaret’s former seat.
She stood at the wall under guard.
Not humiliated.
Restricted.
There is a difference.
I asked the room one question.
“Who believes adoption makes a child less family?”
Silence.
Then two hands rose.
Good.
Honesty.
I looked at them.
“Why?”
One older capo answered.
“Blood protects continuity.”
“From what?”
“Outside influence.”
I nodded.
Reasonable historically.
“Does marriage count as outside influence?”
He hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
“Then half this room is contaminated.”
A few men almost smiled.
Margaret did not.
The second man said:
“An adopted child could carry another family’s loyalties.”
David laughed.
Everyone looked at him.
“She’s three.”
The capo frowned.
David continued.
“She carries crayons.”
I let that sit.
Better argument than mine.
Then I asked:
“Who believes David should become my successor because he is male?”
Three hands.
Different issue.
Good.
David looked at them.
Then at me.
I nodded for him to speak.
“I don’t want it.”
The room shifted.
Margaret snapped:
“You’re sixteen.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“So stop planning my forty-year-old life.”
I almost smiled.
He continued.
“I might want family work. I might not.”
That was the first time David had said it openly.
Margaret had been fighting to preserve a future he never requested.
I looked around.
“No child in this family will be groomed against their will to solve adult anxiety.”
Silence.
“No adopted child will be treated as lesser.”
Then at Margaret.
“And no elder gets to call cruelty tradition.”
Her face hardened.
Good.
May you like
The old rules had finally been said out loud.
That is often how they start dying.
