“Leave us!” His familiar raspy voice barked at two men who had been standing silently at the doorway; I had not noticed them before. They glided away discreetly.
”Come here!” He growled at me. I shivered at the menace in his voice and stood where I was, leaning against the closed door for support.
He barked, the threat in his voice obvious now,” I said, come here!”
I raised my chin and continued to stand where I was. I was incapable of speaking. His anger radiated towards me in waves and I made a supreme effort not to turn and run. I willed myself to remain where I was.
In three strides he was in front of me. He stopped, breathing heavily, not touching me but close enough to make me aware of the strong odor of whiskey on his breath. My heart sank, Gaston was even more dangerous when he had been drinking heavily and up close I saw his bloodshot eyes and unshaven, cold face. I looked up at him, trying to appear calm.
Gazing into my eyes, he asked crudely, ”Whose are they?”
I had imagined this moment in many ways when I was in the mountains but never in such a harsh, cruel encounter.
Raising my head proudly, I looked him in the eye and said, “They are my children.”