Jodi Picoult - Lone Wolf

“That’s me,” Edward answers.

The man holds out a small blue folder. “You’ve been served,” he says, and he smiles and walks away.

Edward takes the folded legal documents out of the folder. In Re Luke Warren, I read across the top. “What is this?” he asks.

I take it from him and quickly scan the pages. “It’s a lawsuit that’s been filed by the hospital in probate court,” I explain. “A temporary guardian has already been appointed by the court for your father; an expedited hearing is going to be held on Thursday to appoint a permanent guardian for him.”

“But I’m his son, ” Edward says. “Cara’s not even legal yet.”

“It’s possible that the judge will decide, given the… recent turn of events… to make the temporary guardian appointment a permanent one.” I look up at him. “In other words, neither you nor Cara would be calling the shots.”

Edward stares at me, his chest rising and falling. “A total stranger? That’s crazy. That’s what you do when no one steps up to the plate for the job. For God’s sake, I have a signed letter from my father telling me to make this decision for him.”

“Then you’d better play nice with this woman when she comes to interview you,” I suggest. “Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that Cara got a little blue folder just like this, and that she’s going to work very hard to get the temporary guardian to believe she’s the best candidate to take care of your father.”

There is a standard in probate court unlike any other civil suit. In order to get a guardian appointed for someone, the plaintiff has to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that this person is irrevocably incapacitated. In other words, to take away someone’s civil rights and liberties, you have to prove a criminal burden.

“Edward,” I say, “I think it’s time I saw that letter.”

Years after I came out of the wild, when I was working with Ukrainian farmers to divert wolf packs from their land and their cattle, I observed the most remarkable thing. There was a pack whose pups had been separated by biologists. One was sent off in one direction, the other was sent off in the opposite direction. Years later, they had formed rival packs, and one day, I saw them meet on a breach line of territory. They stood with their brethren, bristling, teeth bared, on two facing ridges.

As soon as the litter mates saw each other, they ran to the no-man’s-land between the territories and greeted each other, brother and sister rolling in the grass and having a grand old reunion.

It wasn’t until some of the other adult wolves went down and reminded each of them that the sibling was part of a rival pack that they stopped.

And then the two wolves fought each other as if they’d never met before in their lives.

It’s not politically correct to say that you love one child more than you love your others. I love all of my kids, period, and they’re all my favorites in different ways. But ask any parent who’s been through some kind of a crisis surrounding a child-a health scare, an academic snarl, an emotional problem-and we will tell you the truth. When something upends the equilibrium-when one child needs you more than the others-that imbalance becomes a black hole. You may never admit it out loud, but the one you love the most is the one who needs you more desperately than his siblings. What we really hope is that each child gets a turn. That we have deep enough reserves to be there for each of them, at different times.

All this goes to hell when two of your children are pitted against each other, and both of them want you on their side.

For years after Edward left us, I used to wake up in the middle of the night and imagine all the worst that could happen to him in a foreign country. I pictured drug busts, deportation, rapes in alleys. I pictured him mugged and beaten, bleeding, unable to find someone to help. Like a missing tooth, sometimes an absence is more noticeable than a presence, and I found myself worrying about him even more than I had when he was here. I loved him most because I thought that might be the spell that would bring him back to me.

Meanwhile, Cara blamed me for the divorce when Luke moved out for good; and she blamed me for replacing our old, broken family with a shiny new one. I admit, sometimes I agree with her. When I am with the twins, I think that this is my second chance, that maybe I can bind these two little people to me more closely than I managed to do with my first pair of children.

I am out front watching the kids as they play in the snow fort we built two weeks ago-before the car accident, before Edward came home, before I had to take sides. After my confrontation with Cara, it’s liberating to sit on the porch steps and listen to Elizabeth and Jackson pretending that they live in a frost palace and that the icicles are magic talismans. I’d give anything, right now, to dream away reality.

When I hear a car coming down the driveway, I stand up and walk between the road and the twins, as if that would be enough to protect them. They poke their heads out from the window of their little igloo as a stranger rolls down the window. “Hi,” he says. “I’m looking for Georgiana Ng?”

“That would be me,” I reply. I wonder if Joe’s had flowers sent to me again; sometimes he does that-not to apologize for missing my birthday or anniversary, like Luke, but just because.

“Great.” The man hands me a blue folded packet, legal papers, and reverses out of the driveway.

I don’t need Joe to translate; it’s a petition to appoint a permanent guardian for Luke. The reason I’ve been served is because Cara, as a party of interest, is still a minor. Which is exactly why she has all the odds stacked against her.

“Hey, guys,” I say, “time for hot chocolate!” The twins won’t want to come inside yet, but I have to tell Cara about this. So I negotiate a deal that includes an extra half hour of television time this afternoon, install the kids on the couch in front of Nickelodeon, and then walk upstairs to her room.

She is sitting at her desk, watching a YouTube video of her father bent over a carcass, feeding between two wolves. It was probably uploaded by a visitor to Redmond’s; you find hundreds if you Google Luke’s name. The novelty of watching a grown man defend himself between the snapping jaws of two wild beasts never gets old, I guess. I wonder how those amateur videographers would react if they knew that eating the raw innards of the calf gave Luke such bad diarrhea that he started having the organs removed and flash-fried by Walter, then tucked back into the carcasses in small plastic bags. The animals were never the wiser-they thought he was just eating his allotted portion of the calf-but Luke’s digestive system stopped rebelling.

No matter how much he liked to think of himself as a wolf, his body betrayed him.

Cara swivels in her chair when she sees me. She looks nervous. “I’m sorry for sneaking out,” she begins. “But if I’d told you where I wanted to go, you never would have taken me.”

I sit down on her bed. “An apology with a defense built in isn’t much of an apology,” I point out. “And I actually can forgive you for that, because I know you were thinking of your father. What’s harder to forgive is the other stuff you said downstairs. This isn’t a contest between you and your brother. Or you and the twins.”

Cara looks away from me. “It’s just hard to compete with a tortured runaway or supercute toddlers.”

“There’s no competition, Cara,” I say. “Because I wouldn’t have traded you for anything. And no one’s better at being you than you.”