CHAPTER TWELVE

WILLOW

Kill me now! Of all the inappropriate and intrusive things to say. Not to mention, I’m making myself look like a drooling school girl.

It seems I can’t control my tongue when he’s around. Now there’s an idea.

“Just as I suspected,” I scold Drew as we enter the kitchen and find him with a chair scooted up next to the counter, sampling the bread pudding.

“All the best chefs sample the goods before serving them to guests, Mum, right?” He waves the spoon as he talks, flinging little bits of pudding everywhere.

Looking over my shoulder, I see that Piers has his hand over his mouth, trying to contain a laugh.

“Uh, well, that may be true...but you’re not the chef. Anna made this,” I remind him while helping him down.

“Here. Let me scoop you some in a dish,” I offer, handing Drew a towel to wipe his hands.

“That’s okay. I already ate my share.” He grins proudly.

“Well, would you like seconds?” Piers asks.

“Nah, that’s okay,” he replies. “Wanna see my room?” Drew excitedly tugs on Piers’ arm?

“I’d love to. How would you like to fly there?” I hear him whisper to Drew.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” He squeals with delight as Piers instructs him how to hold out his arms in front of him, and Drew does exactly what he says. “Think happy thoughts, and away we gooooooooo!” He lifts Drew in his arms and carries him out of the kitchen.

“I’ll be right up. Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” I call after them, smiling to myself as I clear up our mess and put the kettle on for tea before dishing up some dessert for Piers and myself.

I could get used to that. Not just a second set of hands when it comes to Drew. But seeing how natural Piers is with him, it makes me want to see more of them as father and son. See them laughing and smiling. Watching them hug. Sneaking dessert. Flying to bed. Building bridges and forts. All of those things.

When the kettle whistles, I add it and a couple teacups to the tray and make my way down the hall. Dessert in the study will be nice and give us a chance to talk.

The vintage tray rattles, and the teacups clink as I walk quickly, not wanting to miss out on any more of seeing Piers with Drew. Being back in the house, having Piers here, it’s like time has frozen, and I’m a kid again.

Placing the tray in the library, I arrange it nicely on the coffee table. Turning, I catch my reflection in an aged mirror. A bit of a mess, but I look happy. I am happy.

I set off in search of father and son, following the sound of laughter. Happiness.

§

PIERS

“Think happy thoughts!” We chant in unison as I carry Drew through the house and up the stairs.

“Which way captain?” I ask in my best pirate voice.

“Second door to the right, just like at home!” he orders in a fit of giggles! “Happy thoughts! Happy thoughts!”

And I’m stunned. Second. Door. To. The. Right.

My old room. His wiggling and chanting reminds me to keep moving. And I do, until I’m standing in front of the door to the room that I grew up in.

“This is it mate!” He hops down as I bend to lower him. “Check it out! It’s the coolest room. I think you’re really gonna like it.”

I hold my breath as he opens the door. It’s like stepping back in time. Even though it’s only been a few years, I’m suddenly transported back when I see the navy and white striped, papered walls and the heavy tapestry drapes covered with pirate ships. Hunter green, white and navy plaid duvet covers and dark wood twin beds, a small desk, and a worn dresser.

Following him into the room, I see the old steamer trunk is still at the foot of the bed I once slept in. The porthole mirror is still above the dresser. And the window seat is still nestled under the window where Teddy and I spent hours watching out that window on an old brass telescope Wendy bought us. Looking out for pirates. Watching for our parents. Gazing at stars. Dreaming of a family.

Piers, hurry. Look. It’s a dark car. “Maybe it’s your dad?” Teddy calls me to the window, and I drop the ball I’m bouncing to run and look out. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, but it’s been two years since Wendy said he passed away. And I believe her. Even if I didn’t, I would believe the tears I heard her cry for him in the garden.

It seemed to make Mr. James angry. Why would he be so angry at her for crying because my dad died? I didn’t understand.

Then I overheard Ms. Anna saying it’s because my dad, Peter, was Wendy’s great true love. And when he died, it broke her heart.

Well, I’m sure sorry she had her heart broken. And I’m even more sorry it made Mr. James so angry because he’s angry enough. I’m glad he stays at his flat in the city most of the time.

But I’m not sorry that she loved him. Because if she loved him, then maybe she will keep loving me, the pieces of me that are my dad anyway. Maybe she can be my mum since mine never wanted me.

It’s not my dad, but I wish he could send me a sign. I’m tired of getting my hopes up that he will return.

Watching, I see a nice dressed man and woman standing beside the dark car, then the back door opens, and out steps the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She’s got copper red hair. She’s wearing the most beautiful dress, so pale blue it’s almost white. It’s like she’s an angel. “Maybe my dad sent her to be my family.”

I must have said that last part out loud because Teddy whispers back, “It looks like she already has a family.”

“Then she will be my friend,” I proclaim, and as if by some strange miracle she heard me, she looks up to the window and smiles.

“What are you idiots doing, practically hanging out the window? You trying to fall to your deaths?” Scarlett comes bounding into the room.

“Scarlett, when will you learn to knock?” Teddy stands and asks nervously, pushing his tortoise frames up his pudgy nose. “I know you think you’re a boy, but next time, knock.”

“Oh, bugger off, Teddy Bear. No one is trying to see your little winkle dinkle. Plus, you keep forgetting, I am one of the boys.” Scarlett shoulders past him and comes to sit next to me at the window.

“Who’s the princess?” she asks with a funny look on her face.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I let slip, slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah if you’re into hair the color of carrots and frilly dresses.” She mocks me, while tugging on her own whitish blond hair that’s almost shorter than mine.

“Well, maybe I am,” I fire back, angry at her for making fun of my new friend, even though we’re still technically strangers.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be in the fort if you need me.” She takes off.

“What’s gotten into her?” I ask Teddy.

He just shrugs. “Who knows?”

“Piers, did you hear me?” Drew’s voice breaks through my foggy mind.

“Yes, Drew. Sorry. I was remembering,” I try to explain and I walk to the window.

“It’s okay. My mum does that a lot too since we’ve been here,” he tells me as he goes to grab some clean pajamas from the dresser.

I stay facing the window while he changes, reminding myself I’m still a stranger to him in so many ways.

“This was my room,” I tell him, my voice thick with emotion.

“I know,” he says, matter of fact.

I turn back around when I hear him jump into bed.

“That’s why I picked it,” he tells me, and again, I’m left speechless. Good thing he’s never at a loss for words. “And because it has the best view to the front of the house with the really cool window. With a window seat. Which also reminded me of home. Well my old home, mum keeps calling this home, so I’m thinking maybe this is our new home. But there’s a telescope and a port mirror. A very pirate room, don’t you think?”

“For sure a pirate room,” I agree. “I’m so glad you picked this one.”

Willow comes in just as we’re starting his bedtime story. It’s one of her books, per Drew’s instruction. I had done some research on her, but had yet to get my hands on one.

Exquisite quality, brilliant story and her artwork is unlike anything I’ve seen before. The ink almost looks wet on the page, I have to touch it to be sure. She blushes at my high praise.

We narrate the story together for Drew until he dozes off. Pirates, fairies, a garden and the prince of the lost boys. It seems she did find the adventure she was looking for, and she saved our greatest stories and made them into a priceless work of art to be shared with the world. To plant seeds of dreams in young imaginative minds.

She checks the lock on the window and pulls the shades before dimming his bedside lamp, adjusting his covers once more and giving him one last kiss. She closes his door quietly behind us, leaving it open just a crack, smiling softly at me.

“I’m sure you think me to be overbearing, or obsessive?” I hate that she thinks I would question her abilities as a mum, regardless of how overprotective they may seem.

“I think you’re an incredible, devoted mother, and there is nothing wrong with showering him with affection or doing everything in your ability to make him safe and secure. Never doubt yourself, never.”

“It’s kind of you to say.” She blushes and walks down the stairs.

“I didn’t say it to be kind.” I follow after her.

“He’s lucky to have you,” I add when we reach the landing, and she’s once again looking at me.

“He’s lucky to have you too. I’m just sorry—”

“No more apologies.” I stop her, and she nods at me.

“I set our dessert in the study. I thought it would be more intimate.” Her eyes widen, and I bite my lip to hold in a chuckle. “Not that— oh God. Not that I want to be intimate. With you. I mean not that I don’t want to be intimate, with you.” She stops walking and puts her face in her hands.

“Wow. Uh, thanks. I think.” I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in.

She groans in embarrassment, but the sound does things to me it shouldn’t. I’m trying to be civil...okay, we’re way past civil. Respectful. She is the mother of my child. But I am a man. And she’s a woman. A very beautiful woman.

“Hey. Willow. Don’t be embarrassed.” I pull her hands into mine and away from her face. “Don’t hide those hazel eyes from me.”

She looks up at me, those eyes that are green with flecks of golden brown hold me captive. When I look into them, I see worry, fear and shame. I’m supposed to be angry with her, yet I want to pull her into my arms. I want to make promises and keep them...seal them with a kiss. I want to taste her. And the only look in her eyes will be desire.

I’m so tired of keeping my distance.

“Come on.” I continue walking and she follows, no choice not to with her hand still in mine, the other one nervously twirling her hair. “Let’s go get intimate,” I tease.

Which earns me a slap on the arm. “Stop!” She laughs, and I take her hand back in mine.

“Hey, before I forget, I want to ask you something.” Turning, I see she looks worried, so I attempt to lighten the mood. “You know before we get intimate, and I lose all ability to think or speak.”

“Piers!” She playfully pushes on my chest, and the joke’s on me because now I am going to lose the ability to speak. Her hands on me could be my undoing.

“Seriously, Willow. I promise, no more jokes. Scouts honor.” I hold up my hand.

“You were never a scout.” She laughs, her hands sliding ever so slightly down my chest.

“So I wasn’t...anyhow, how would you like to attend a gala with me?” Her hands stop moving, and she looks up at me.

“Really? Oh, wow. Piers, I don’t know what to say.” She pulls her hands away and steps back. “That’s. Um—”

“Just say yes.” I don’t know what has her so spooked, but she has a funny look on her face.

“Please.”

“Piers, I’m so honored you would ask. Truly I am.” She hesitates. “But I’m sure you know actresses, models, or someone way more glamorous than me to take to something like that...something that I’m sure is far too extravagant for me.”

So there it is. Insecurity. Something I know all about. Before the money, when I was no one, a penniless orphan, I was crawling in them.

“Oh, Willow.” I take her face in my hands. “There’s no one I would rather have with me. It’s a very important night. It’s actually a gala for my charity, well, for one of them. The London Lost Club. A non-profit that works with setting up clubs around London for kids who need a place to go after school and on the weekends.” Tears fill her eyes. “Shhhh, please don’t cry. It’s a good thing. And I would be honored for you to come with me.”

“That’s not why I’m crying.” She sniffles. “Of course, I’ll go with you. It’s just that there is so much we don’t know about each other.”

“Well, then let’s go get intimate,” I tell her. And there it is. A smile. Kissing her forehead, I ask her something I haven’t in many years. “Ready to fly?”

“You wouldn’t!” She laughs.

“Watch me!” I throw her over my shoulder and run down the hall. “Think happy thoughts!”