Throughout their journey,they did not exchange any words and the children asked no questions. Despite the terrible violence they had witnessed, they k...ew, instinctively, that they were safe with him. As they neared the village, he turned to look at them and they smiled at him-the boy broadly, and the girl rather tentatively. He smiled back at them, moved by the trust he saw in their eyes in the late evening’s dying rays of light. He knew then that the risk he took to rescue them was well worth. After everyone had taken their seats, and were served by some of the younger girls from the settlement who had volunteered to help for the evening, Miranda’s father stood. It was customary for fathers to make a short speech at their daughter’s coming-out parties. He signaled the musicians, and the music came to a stop. Everyone slowly quieted, and turned toward her father. He cleared his throat and looked down for a moment to collect his thoughts. ‘Tonight,’ her father started, almost. . he WAS my son. I'd lived with him as my son for three years, loved him as my son ... I couldn't just turn that off. There was no magic wand I could wave to NOT make him my son.I bent and cried, my body wracked in spasms. It was not only remorse at what I'd done but the knowledge of what I'd lost. It was a wailing cry at the sudden epiphany of all that had been taken from me. It was a crushing emptiness at what that fucking bitch had ripped from my heart.I looked up at Jean; I needed her to. It was his pleasure to also spend some time with one or two of the local girls who would come into the cafe in the evening. When he talked with Maryam he always called her Kitten now and, with a charming smile, she called him Papi. That pleased him immensely and gave him reason to reflect in the night how nice it would be to have known her in his younger days. Always with him now was Pup. The terrier had selected his family, his pack, and it was Lorenzo. And anyone Lorenzo treated with.