by Gwynn White
Molly slowly put her hand up. Since her father had died, she looked exhausted. "When did they build the fence?"
The other students glanced at her, then away, embarrassed.
Acevedo let out a breath. I hoped not to have to talk about this so soon. Every year he had angry parents in to see him after that discussion. "It was much later. About forty years ago. If we have time near the end of the year we'll get to it."
She nodded, not meeting his eye.
The bell rang. "All right then," Acevedo said, as the students packed up their books and papers. "Chapter five for tonight. Please write down any questions and turn them in at the start of class. I'll see you and your parents later today for conference. If you can't make it, or need a different time, let me know now."
No one came to the desk, so Acevedo erased the board as the students filed out, laughing, jostling, and teasing as they went, leaving the door open. He straightened his desk, swept the room, wound the grandfather clock in the corner, and set up a few chairs beside his desk. The first parents should be here soon.
He put the files of the students scheduled for today's conferences on a chair to his right beside his desk as a maid came in. "Tea for you, sir?"
"Yes, thank you."
The woman curtsied, put the tray on the counter, poured him a cup, then set it before him on a saucer. "Will there be anything else?"
"No, thank you. It's a conference day, so I'll be in late. You can go; I'll lock up."
"Thank you, sir." She curtsied and left.
Acevedo drank his tea as he skimmed over the student files for tonight. Molly was the only one he had any real concern about. He felt glad her mother would be in to see him.
A soft knock at the open door, but it startled him. Jack stood in the doorway with a tall, clean-shaven man in his late thirties, hair and eyes dark brown like Jack's. The man looked familiar.
Recognition dawned. "Xavier? Xavier Alcatraz?" He went to shake his hand. Fondness surged in him as he did so, and Acevedo enveloped the man in a tight hug, then pulled away, grasping the man's upper arms. The short, chubby boy was now a sturdy man, taller than he was. "It is you! Dear gods, how you've grown! I didn't recognize you."
Jack stood there gaping.
His father smiled at him. "Mr. Spadros was my favorite teacher in high school." Xavier turned to Acevedo. "You were everyone's favorite teacher in high school."
Acevedo laughed. "You're too kind." He gestured to the chairs. "Please, sit." They did so. "I hope you've been well?"
Xavier Alcatraz nodded. "Very well." He seemed astonished. "Last month I was appointed head of the Guard."
Acevedo stared, mouth open. "You've done very well indeed!" He stood, leaning over to shake Xavier's hand. "Congratulations."
Jack beamed at his father, pride on his face.
Acevedo sat. "Jack's done a fine job in my class. Reads his work, always ready with questions. High marks. I don't have any complaints." He smiled at Jack's blush and spoke to the boy. "Do you have any future plans?"
"I'd like to become a surgeon, sir," Jack said. "When my mother became ill, the physicians were kind." He shook his head. "Her case was hopeless; all of them said so. But the surgeon was the only one who seemed to do anything for her."
"My word," Acevedo said to Xavier, chagrined. "I'm so sorry for your loss, sir."
Xavier gave a fake smile. "It was long ago."
Jack spoke over his father's last words. "I'm good with my hands and not afraid of blood." He straightened. "Dr. Royal Diamond of Diamond Surgery Associates has agreed to apprentice me."
Acevedo, never having heard such a name before, glanced at Xavier in confusion.
"A reputable fellow," Xavier said. "I've checked his credentials. Over in the Northeast Quadrant. His shop is small, but many other surgeons have trained with him and speak highly of his work."
"So Jack Alcatraz is to become a surgeon," Acevedo said to Xavier. Then he turned to Jack. "Well, my boy, you could do much worse than that. I hope you'll remember that the history of a thing is what creates the thing itself."
Jack nodded, his face thoughtful, and Acevedo could see the gears turning. Then the boy smiled. "You're right! I shall be careful to learn the history of each malady I encounter, to understand how it was made."
"Very good," Acevedo said, encouraged. "Then I have helped you." He glanced at the clock. "My next family should be here soon." He stood, as did they, and shook hands. "Stop by again soon," he said to Xavier, "you're most welcome."
Xavier nodded. "Perhaps you'd like to come for dinner?"
Jack seemed a bundle of enthusiasm at the thought.
"Why, of course," Acevedo said. "Any time you wish."
Molly and her mother, a fine-figured woman with black hair dressed in deep mourning, stood in the doorway. Xavier glanced back, then turned round to bow to them. "My apologies, madam. Come, Jack." They walked past, Xavier nodding to Molly's mother as they left.
"It was good to see you both," Acevedo called after them. Then he went to Molly's mother. "Acevedo Spadros, at your service." He took the woman's black-gloved hand and kissed it.
Her eyes were warm and blue. "Katherine Bluff, sir. A pleasure to meet you."
"Please, come in." Acevedo gestured to the seats, and they all sat. He opened Molly's file, not quite knowing where to begin. "I'm grieved at the recent loss of your husband."
She made a graceful motion, almost as if she curtsied in her chair; he couldn't have described it any other way. "Thank you kindly, sir."
For a moment, Acevedo was at a loss for words. "Um, I can see it's caused a great deal of strain for Molly." He put his hand down to open Molly's file, and realized it already lay open. "She seems often tired, and her grades have suffered."
Molly flushed red.
"I don't mean to berate you, dear; I feel concerned for your welfare. How may I help?"
Katherine said, "Your kind words are all the assistance I fear you can give." She put her hand on her daughter's. "Our financial situation is precarious, and Molly has had to work evenings to help."
Acevedo gaped at Molly. A young, well-bred girl, working? She still grieved her father's death! "What sort of work?"
"I care for children in families without servants," Molly said, "when their parents wish to go out on the town. I have motherless children I care for when their father must work late. Cook their dinner, feed them, put them to bed. I do my reading when the children are asleep." She paused. "The nights I don't get children, I sweep at the grocery down the street. That doesn't pay as well, but no one bothers me."
Out in a public place, at night? "My dear, you must leave this grocery at once. It's dangerous, not to mention improper for a girl of your standing."
Molly said, "But —"
"I insist. You may come after school every afternoon and sweep for me: I'll pay you whatever they pay per hour, plus ten percent."
"You're too kind," Katherine said. "We couldn't possibly impose upon you like this."
"It's not an imposition at all," Acevedo said. "It frees me from sweeping, plus it ensures the rest and safety of my student. She's a bright young lady, and I don't wish her grades to suffer any more than they have." He smiled. "So you see, it's beneficial for us both."
Katherine gazed at Acevedo. "I see now why your students love you so."
Flustered, Acevedo said, "Thank you." His cheeks burned as he glanced at the clock. "I'm afraid our time is over; my next family will arrive soon." He rose, as did they, and he took Katherine's hand. Those beautiful eyes. "It's good to have met you." Then he turned to Molly. "Until tomorrow, then."
In truth, he had five minutes until the next family arrived, but Acevedo sat at his desk, head in his hands, a desperate need for some time to collect himself. This is a student's mother, and a recent widow. What am I thinking?
He took a deep breath, let it out. At least he could help keep Katherine's daughter safe, and if anything was to be, it would come in time.
Xa
vier Alcatraz walked home with his son, the boy excitedly chattering about dinner with his teacher as horses and carriages went past. "I didn't know you had Mr. Spadros as a teacher, Dad."
"Oh, yes," Xavier said. His former teacher was much older now, but had the same enthusiasm for his students. "Back then he had to fight to allow young ladies to study alongside young men. That's where I met your mother." He smiled to himself at the memory of his wife as a young girl. It didn't hurt so much anymore. "Now it's considered normal."
"I don't understand people who say we should go back to the old ways," Jack said. "It seems wrong not to let girls go to school too."
A sleek new steam automobile chugged past. "There are always people who say we should go back to the old ways. That's why you learn history, Jack. The old ways weren't as great as some make them out to be."
When they got home, his fifteen-year-old daughter Joy met them at the door. "Hi, Daddy! How much trouble is he in?"
Xavier laughed. "He got a good report."
"I made enchiladas," she said, and he could smell them. "They're almost ready."
He hugged his little girl, kissed her wavy brown hair. Not his little girl, his young woman. He needed to arrange her debut soon. "I appreciate it."
"I'm starving," Jack said, and they got ready to eat.
After dinner, Xavier sat with the newspaper on his front porch. The news wasn't very good these days. The recession was worse, the gang violence was worse, and another grain shipment was hijacked. Xavier hoped none of his men had been injured this time.
The Guard is stretched too thin, Xavier thought. But he understood the situation: the hungry people outside the fence would do whatever they could to eat.
Thank the gods for the Dealers. If the holy women hadn't built their aid stations outside the fence, there would be rioting by now.
He was refolding the newspaper, about to get ready for work, when Blocker came by: a short, wiry guy with white-blond hair. Xavier didn't know the man's real name, but he came around about once a week. "Hey," Blocker said, "how are you?"
They had guys like this around since he was a boy. "Good, how about you?"
"What can I get you?"
Xavier recalled his father's words: You always want these guys to help you. You never know when you might really need them, and these aren't guys you want unhappy with you.
He thought about Joy. "I do have something you can help me with. My girl's turning sixteen this summer."
Blocker grinned as if he hit the jackpot. "Her debut! I'll get right on it. I know several fine establishments which can help you." He began listing off dressmakers, meeting halls, stationery shops, never actually naming names — just "a friend I know" where he could "get you a good price."
For which he's going to take a cut. If Xavier thought about it too long, it rankled. But guys like Blocker — and more importantly, the gang or crime family they belonged to — didn't like it if you went to these establishments yourself. "Okay, get me some things to show her." She'd want to be involved.
"Of course - you got a fine lady in making. Even educated." He nodded. "Ought to have lots of suitors. I can scout around for some good ones if you want. Any interest in getting her into a Family?"
Those thugs shooting up the streets out by the fence? "I'd rather stick with gentlemen. But thank you for the offer."
"Whatever you want, Mr. Alcatraz. But mark my words, one day these Families are gonna be gentlemen."
Uneducated criminals? Hardly. "Thanks for your help, Blocker. I need to get ready for work."
As Xavier Alcatraz got into his uniform and tucked his children into bed, he thought about his talk with Mr. Spadros earlier. I'm the luckiest man alive. Two beautiful kids, a great job. He sat next to his son. "I'm very proud of you."
Jack gave a shy one-shoulder shrug.
"No, I really am. I know it's been hard on you since Mom died. But you've been a great brother to Joy, and ... " Suddenly he choked up.
Jack grabbed his hand. "It's okay, Dad. It wasn't your fault. And me and Joy, we're doing fine. Really, we are. Don't worry about us." He grinned. "You better go, or you'll be late."
Xavier hugged his son then, hard. "I love you."
"I love you too, Dad."
After meeting with so many families, it felt good to be home. Acevedo opened the door to his home, old Scoop coming to greet him, tail wagging. Good smells filled the air, and his stomach rumbled. He called out in Italian, "I'm home."
"About time," his uncle answered from the other room. "Icicles formed on your dinner."
"Hush your mouth, Vincenzo," his mother snapped, also from the other room. "You're not too big for me to spank."
Acevedo laughed softly as he came into the kitchen. His father sat at the table reading the evening paper. The headline read:
DA: "RAMPANT CORRUPTION"
Royal Family Implicated
His mother set down her rag, wiped her hands on her apron, and came over to kiss him on both cheeks. "How did it go?"
"Just fine, Mama. I have good students this year."
"You have good students every year," his father said. "It's because they have a good teacher." He peered at Acevedo over his spectacles. "Look at you. Positively glowing. Did you finally meet a girl?"
Was it that obvious? "Papa —" Acevedo began.
"Don't 'Papa' me, you little scamp. Sit down and eat. We can talk about her later."
Acevedo sat, and his mother put a plate of ravioli down. Despite what Vincenzo said, it was steaming hot.
His mother sat beside him. "So what's she like?"
"Let the man eat, Nina," Papa said. "He just got home. Give him a moment's peace."
"It's all right, Papa," Acevedo said. "I met with one of my students' mothers, a recent widow. She's comely, that's all."
"Well, at least it's a girl you're after," Vincenzo said. "Was wondering about you there for a while."
Acevedo about spit out his food. "Really. Really? I don't see you dating anyone, Uncle Vinny."
Vincenzo leaned back. "All in good time." He took out a pipe, filled it from a pouch in his pocket, lit it. "You ... you're what? Fifty now?"
"Forty-five," Acevedo said. Despite being his uncle, Vinny was only a few years older. They had had this conversation many times. He stabbed at a ravioli. "Just never met anyone before."
"Forty-five. And here your dear mother and father sit, waiting for grandchildren."
Acevedo sighed. The topic used to enrage him; now he just felt weary. "You have twenty-four grandchildren, with six on the way. You need more?"
"Well, you are our eldest, dear," Mama said. "Your brothers and sisters have worried for you."
Acevedo snorted. "All in good time. If it's good enough for Uncle Vinny, it's good enough for me." He grinned. That should silence them.
They ate for a while, his family chatting about the news, the races, but Acevedo's mind drifted to Katherine Bluff.
Papa put down the paper. "So tell us about her."
They just wouldn't let it go. "She's ... I don't know, maybe 40? Black hair, blue eyes —" He stopped as both his parents began nodding. "I just met the woman. And she just lost her husband. And her daughter is in my class. Please, just let it go." He mopped the sauce on his plate with his bread. "I won't be going with you to the opera next month."
Mama looked stricken. "Why not?"
"The woman's daughter was working in a grocery. At night. I gave her a job. I won't have money for the ticket. I'm sorry." He didn't much like the opera, but his mother did, and they went every month. "I'll save up for next month, I promise."
Papa peered at him. "I think we can loan you the money, son. You did a good thing. I'm proud of you."
Uncle Vinny laughed. "You'd have all the money you need if you'd work for me, instead of that lousy school."
It was an elite private school. But opera tickets were expensive, especially buying one every month. "I'm not getting involved in your schemes," Acevedo said. "That's final."
Vincenzo puffed on his pipe. "People need things, I get them things. Nothing wrong with that."
"I'm not having this conversation," Acevedo said, putting his napkin on the table. Uncle Vinny was a criminal. Why did Papa let him stay here? "Thanks for dinner, Mama." He rose. "I've got some things to take care of." He went to Mama and Papa, kissed them.
"You're going to your room?" Mama said. "You just got home."
Yes, I'm going to my room. It's the only place I can find some peace. "It's been a long day." He smiled at her. "Dinner was great. I'll see you in the morning."
"But Acevedo —"
Papa put his hand on her arm. "Hush, Nina, let him be. Good night, son."
"Good night." Acevedo went to his room and closed the door. A lamp by the door burned low, and he turned it up, illuminating the room.
Forty-five years he had lived in this room. Maps covered the walls, tomes of military history in several languages filled the bookshelves, including the one he bought last week, which took up most of his paycheck. A large oval table in the middle of the room held that book, a map, and figurines depicting the Battle of Broadway: 1271 AC, when the Federal Army fought the Southwestern Tribes after they stormed the Serenity Valley construction site and killed everyone there.
They had great strategists on both sides, Acevedo thought. The Wild Men weren't as wild as everyone believed. They just didn't want life under a dome.
He leaned his hands on the edge of the table, stared at the map. He was doing what he loved. He had a good life. He was a grown man. He could do anything, go anywhere he wanted.
So why did he feel trapped all of a sudden?
It's that damn Uncle Vinny. The man was a thief. He extorted people, smuggled contraband into the city ... and the men he worked with were even worse. But Papa wouldn't lift a finger against him.
I can see not wanting to abandon your little brother, or turn him in, but one day Uncle Vinny's going to get us all killed.
Acevedo threw himself on his bed, thinking of Katherine Bluff. Her eyes, the feel of her hand in his. The graceful way she moved.
The school year had just begun. It would be wrong to court a woman whose husband just died, whose daughter was in his class. But in nine months?
