PART 7 — THE DANGER THAT PURSUED US
Willem's words hung like an ice-cold fog in the small bedroom. The wind outside seemed to intensify into a storm, and the wooden beams of the vacation home creaked under the pressure.
"Who?" Lucas's voice cut through the room. He walked toward the bed, grabbed the old man by the collar of his blanket, and pulled him up a bit. "Who was after us, Father? Tell me right now! No more riddles! I was away for thirty years because of you! For thirty years I thought you didn't want me anymore!"
Willem grabbed Lucas's wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so weak. Tears welled up in the old man's eyes and rolled down the furrows of his face.
"The... the syndicate, Lucas," Willem stammered out of breath. "The people I owed money to... No, not just money. The money I borrowed to pay for your education when I thought we would lose everything. They threatened... they threatened to do something to you if you didn't disappear. They wanted to use you, Lucas. The only way to protect you was for you to disappear. And the only way to make them believe you were completely erased from our life... was to act as if you were an outcast son."
I felt the ground drop out from under my feet. My knees trembled so violently that I had to grab the doorframe to keep from falling over.
"So... that's why you lied in the letter?" I asked in a voice barely audible. "That's why you left me believing Lucas never wanted anything to do with us again?"
Willem nodded weakly. "If you had known the truth, you would have gone looking for him. They would have hunted you. They watched us all those years... Even after my alleged death, I had to go into hiding here. All this time... all alone in this house, to keep you safe."
Lucas stared at his father. The anger in his eyes had not vanished, but in its place had come something complex and painful. Understanding, mixed with a deep, indelible grief.
"But Father..." Lucas began, his voice breaking. "Why did you never inform anyone after the danger was over? Why did it have to take thirty years?"
Willem opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly his breath hitched. His eyes widened in pure panic. He was no longer staring at us, but at the small bedroom window looking out onto the overgrown path in front of the house.
Headlights cut through the darkness of the stormy afternoon.
A heavy jeep had just driven onto the path and stopped right in front of the front door. The engine was turned off, but the lights stayed on.
