CHAPTER FOUR

PIERS

I slowly climb the worn wooden stairs and allow myself the luxury of staring at all the photos that clutter the pale-yellow walls. Willow and Drew at a pumpkin patch, under a Christmas tree, riding a carousel, standing ankle deep in the ocean surf. I can almost hear the sounds of laughter, the music of the carousel, and the waves crashing on the shore. Smell the scent of the pine, the salty air and the sugary treats.

I stand heartbroken in front of a wall of moments that I missed out on. Walking further up, I see more photos of Drew, swaddled as a baby, him crawling, covered in baby food, in a bubble bath...complete with a little yellow rubber duck. So many memories that I never made. Then my eyes find a picture of Willow, sitting alone beneath a massive tree in a white cotton dress. She’s looking down, smiling. I follow her gaze and see her hands protectively resting on her swollen belly. Even though her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, she looks gorgeous. My breath is stolen; except for the swollen belly, this was the Willow I remember. The girl with flowing mahogany hair and a dreamer’s eyes. She was far from alone. I was the one alone. I was the one halfway around the world while she was here, building a family. My family.

I’m angry and heartbroken, all at the same time, that the one person I truly trusted betrayed me in the one way that could hurt me the most, preventing me from having my heart’s true desire. I reach the top of the stairs and take the second door to the right.

Upon entering my son’s room, I find that he is still fast asleep. Looking at his sweet little face as he lies there, deep in dreamland, moves me in a way I’m not familiar with. It’s as if he’s a ship, and I’m the ocean, and he has dropped anchor on the heart of my being, forever staking his claim on me. In seeing his dark lashes splayed across his cheeks, rosy with slumber...the gentle rise and fall of his chest that contains his heartbeat, I’m conquered.

Seeing his innocence and knowing my blood flows through his veins. It’s everything. Yesterday, it was...It all happened so fast. I never expected to find this, when I showed up here. As much as I want to hate Willow for this, I know I could never truly hate the woman who gave me the greatest gift. I feel the anger leave my body, replaced with an overwhelming love. A love that I have never known before now. The love of a father for his son. And even though I wasn’t there for his first breath, I’ll be there for him until my last.

I sit at the edge of his bed, resting my hand on his back, careful not to wake him, and take in the room around us while I feel his steady beating heart beneath my palm. Dark, wooden furniture that’s seen better days, second hand I’m sure. A very unique, quilted, pirate blanket covering him. The pale blue walls are covered with drawings and pictures of pirates and treasure maps. A large, ship wheel adorns one wall, bookcases flank either side of a window, complete with a window seat nestled right underneath, perfect for gazing at the stars and story time. A white tent made of sheets hangs from the corner over a fur rug.

An incredible room for an incredible little boy! I would’ve loved having a room like this growing up. I would have loved just having my own room. I can see that with every drawing and every single object placed in this room, she has poured her heart into providing the best she could for Drew.

He starts to stir beneath my hand, and I don’t want to be in the room when he wakes up for fear of scaring him. Unfortunately, I’m still a stranger to this boy. I gently caress his hair before I stand to leave the room. Taking one last look over my shoulder before I head back down, a picture on the nightstand catches my attention. I’m not sure how I didn’t see it before. Walking over, I pick it up to find it’s a picture of Willow and me when we were kids. Underneath the photograph in beautiful calligraphy, the mat on the frame reads The Adventures of the Girl and the Lost Boy. I remember this day...it was the second summer she had come to visit Everlend, and we were playing on the big trees in the garden outside Wendy’s house. She must have taken this picture without us knowing. We had cut our thumbs with a dull pocket knife, pressed them together and vowed to be best friends for life, before her uncle came and told me to get lost. And lost I was, until she found me...we grew to be so much more. Promising to make new vows to be together forever...then she left me. And lost I stayed.

Grabbing the photograph, I place it in the top of the suitcase and zip it up. I make my way back downstairs with his bag and try not to look at the photos that taunt me on my way. As someone who has spent a good portion of his life with his feelings turned off, I’m feeling them all in full force today. Anger competes with forgiveness, hurt battles understanding and love. I need to clear my head.

“I’ll take the bags out,” I call back to the kitchen. It takes two trips to retrieve the bags that she placed on the landing. I decide to wait outside and walk away from the house, this home that I’m merely a guest in, at best. Checking my watch, I see that it’s nearly time for our flight to leave, and my mood improves. While most fear the sky and dread flying, I welcome the feeling of control it gives me. Control is something I struggle to keep in Willow’s presence, but that has to change. I have to keep the upper hand. Getting her to agree to go back to London was easier than anticipated...getting her to play by my rules will be much more difficult. But I’m not afraid of a challenge. I’ve had a lifetime of practice.