boat?â
âSomeday Iâll have a second. Maybe a third.â
âFaya is my only child. Why should I give her up for âsomedayâ?â
âIâve made a considerable sum. More than you hoped for.â
Fayaâs father scratched his leg near the edge of the bandage. âAnd you can prove this?â he said.
âIf I must.â
âYou realize, of course, that I canât go with you to the bank.â
âItâs not in a bank.â
âAre you a fool? I should have for a son-in-law a man who stuffs money in a mattress?â
âThatâs not where I keep it,â he said. âI donât keep it in the house.â
âAnd where you keep it is safe?â
âSafer than a bank.â He stepped closer to Fayaâs father and saw the old man, his red face twitching, shrink in his chair. âI plan to take her,â he said. âSheâs packing her bag as we speak. So you can give us your consent, and sheâll stay here until the wedding, or you can refuse me and sheâll leave now.â
Fayaâs father was apoplectic. âYouâre impert â ,â he sputtered, reaching for his crutches. âIâll have you arrested.â
âWeâll be gone before you can pick up the telephone,â he said, glancing at the bandaged stump. âAnd it appears that chasing us is out of the question.â
âWeâll be married,â said Faya, descending the stairs with her suitcase, âbefore you can find us.â
âFaya, you canât go. Whoâll care for me? How will I walk?â
âWeâll hire a nurse,â said Faya.
âYouâre ungrateful,â said her father. âIt cuts me. Itâs like losing my other foot.â
âSo it may go,â said Faya. âYou know what the doctor said.â
He stood beside Faya and looked down at the footless man. âYou have a choice,â he said.
Fayaâs father lifted his short leg and dropped it back on the stool. âThis is blackmail,â he said. âI donât have a choice.â
âOf course you do. Itâs very simple. Either the three of us will agree on a wedding day, or Faya and I will marry this afternoon.â
Fayaâs father agreed to two months from that moment, believing that heâd be able to change his daughterâs mind or spirit her away. He was consumed, quite naturally, by a vengeful desire to prevent the marriage. He was also consumed by gangrene.
Before the nuptials, he lost his other foot. On the prescribed day, bound to a wheelchair, he found himself drugged, fevered, and disintegrating, unable to kick up dust or walk his daughter down the aisle.
Not long afterward, he put a large sum of money in an envelope and left it on the hall table. Then he died, footless and alone.
Faya found herself unable to weep. âItâs revenge,â she said. âMy fatherâs curse on our honeymoon.â
He wrapped his arms around his wife. âDonât be angry,â he said. âThereâs really no point. Most men plan their revenge. What happened to your father was nothing he planned.â
AT THE apartment, in the silence just after the War, the knocking begins again, but this time he opens the door, his body still sharp, and sees the leather boots dropping water on the mat and the face of the landlord that flinches â a register of surprise, the shock of greeting a soldier as opposed to a woman.
âIs your mother home?â says the landlord.
âAny business you had with her,â he says, âyou can now take up with me.â
The landlord almost smiles. âIâm afraid that wonât be possible.â
His military training calls for a quick, but accurate, decision. He observes the distance between the landlordâs hand and shoulder. The arms of the man are thin despite his winter coat.
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ALWAYS worried about Peche Island, he sets