He stepped right up on to the ledge that overlooked the pit below. They’d expected a hundred, maybe two hundred people. Easily five-hundred packed the pit below. He saw financiers, CEOs, artists, entertainers, poets, politicians and plebeians. He saw somebodies and nobodies, and they were all his people. He would guard them with his life. Nine months ago he’d wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bottom of a bottle and drown in the dregs. Now he had before him five hundred reasons to live. And behind him, standing at either side of him, his two most important reasons to live.
The assembled crowd slowly quieted as his presence asserted itself. When at last silence reigned, he smiled down at them and in a loud clear voice spoke one and only one sentence to them all.
“Welcome to the Kingdom.”
42
Somewhere in London 2013 A SOFT SIGH CAME OVER THE BABY MONITOR AS Kingsley finished his story. Grace looked at Kingsley and smiled.
She stood up, crooked her finger at Kingsley, and he followed her up a short f light of stairs and down a darkened hallway. A light was already on in the room—a painted glass hot-air balloon in miniature. The toy lamp cast hues of red, blue, green and gold on to the walls, painting a rainbow of light around Fionn.
“What are you doing up?” Grace asked as she reached over the side of the crib and laid her hand gently on her son’s small back. “Did you know we had company? Someone wants to meet you.”
Kingsley gazed down on the boy in the crib in his pale blueand-white footie pajamas. He had a swath of pale blond hair on his small head, his mother’s bright blue eyes and a solemn expression on his face. Such a serious look on such a little boy. Kingsley almost laughed at him.
“May I?” Kingsley asked, not looking at Grace. He couldn’t take his eyes off Fionn.
“Of course,” Grace said. “He likes being held.”
Kingsley gently lifted the boy out of his crib and cradled him against his chest. Grace gave him a soft blue blanket that Kingsley draped over Fionn’s head and back.
“You’re good at this,” Grace said. “But you have more practice than I do.”
Kingsley smiled but didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t speak. Not a word.
Kingsley laughed, and Grace, without a moment’s hesitation, raised her hand to his face and wiped the tears off his cheeks.
“Merci,” he whispered and pressed a kiss on to the top of Fionn’s head. He smelled like a baby, like his own Céleste. The clean scent of lavender soap and innocence. “Fionn and I have something in common.”
“And what is that?” Grace asked.
“We’re both alive because of S?ren.”
“Yes. I suppose you both are.” Grace touched his face again, wiped off another tear. Kingsley laughed at himself. “You’re doing better than Nora did the first time she held him. She made it about three seconds before handing him back to me and bursting into tears in Zachary’s arms. He teased her mercilessly about it.”
“He’s beautiful. No wonder she cried.”
“She and Zachary talked a long time about Fionn,” Grace continued. “The two of them can talk for hours.”
“What did they talk about?” Kingsley asked, patting Fionn on the back.
“Nora being Fionn’s godmother.”
“I thought she was already.”
“She is. But Zachary and I talked and considering everything…”
“You mean you want her to be his legal guardian?”
“Yes. If something happens to me and Zachary, we want her to have Fionn. She hasn’t said yes to that yet.”
“She wouldn’t say yes to it.”
“Zachary’s wearing her down.”
“I thought he had a brother?”
“He does, and I have siblings, too, parents… But God forbid, I want him to go to Nora and so does Zachary. I want him to be with someone who knows the truth about him, someone who knows where he came from, and will love him because of it, not in spite of it.”
And Fionn would be close to S?ren, which Grace didn’t say. But she didn’t have to.
“She doesn’t trust herself enough. But I can’t think of anyone better to raise him if something happened,” Kingsley said, and meant the words.
“Neither can we.”
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Kingsley said.