Past Loves

Part 28

Chapter 28

Peirce heard the voice, but he did not turn towards it until the boy stepped closer.  As soon as he saw the lad earlier, he had closed his eyes in pain.  The boy looked like Peirce.  The dark hair that had a slight curl to it, the brown eyes were just like his.  With his eyes closed, Peirce could pretend he did not see the lad, he could pretend that his life wasn’t a lie.  He wanted his son, there was no doubt in his mind, but he hated Emily, hated Emily’s mother from keeping this from him.  He even hated Elizabeth for taking his son to begin with, for putting him in danger. 

“Peirce,” Rose mumbled, grabbing his hand, “open your eyes.” 

He shook his head at her.  The pain in his side was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.  Who knew finding someone from his past would hurt this bad?  Should he not be joyous?  He should have jumped to his feet, wrapped his arms around the boy, and never let go.  How could he though when he had finally grieved from his son’s loss?  How could Emily be so cruel to present him with hope when he thought all was loss?

“Peirce,” Rose snapped, in a hard tone. 

It wasn’t the hardness of her voice that caused him to open his eyes; it was the underlining care that escaped.  No matter what happened, Rose was still with him.  She would still be by his side, helping him when he could not help himself.  Her green eyes sparkled with worry as she sent him a small smile.  Glancing over her shoulder, she let out a sigh without taking her eyes away from the boy.  “I find it remarkable, do you?”

“What?”

She turned back towards him, sadness for all the years he was wronged in her eyes.  “The way he looks.  If I could imagine you as a boy, he would be it.  The hair, Peirce, it even curls above his ears like yours does.  Can you believe that your lovely brown eyes could be on another?”

“He has her hair.”

Rose rolled her eyes at him, a hint of exasperation clouding her features.  “Mayhap in color, but the style is you.  That is the only thing you could claim is different.”

He bit the side of his cheek, wanting to make sure this was not another cruel dream thrust upon him.  “He is my son.”

She nodded at him as if answering a question.  “He is yours, Peirce.  What will we do?”

“Momma,” the boy yelled just as she asked the question.

The boy ran towards a bound Emily.  Confusion was clear on his face, as if he did not know whether he should help her or confront his enemies.  Before the boy could reach Emily, Ramsey swept him off his feet.  By the way that Ramsey swayed, Peirce knew that the man was still not recovered.

Taking a deep breath, Peirce tried to pull himself into a sitting position.  Rose immediately helped him sit on his own, allowing him a better view of his son.  Rose was correct; the boy looked exactly like Peirce.  It was odd, seeing an exact replica of one’s self.  This must have been what he looked like as a child.  The only difference was the fright in the boy’s eyes.

“Be still, lad,” Ramsey grunted as the boy kicked at him.  “Your mother is safe, but at the moment we must detain her for her own wellbeing.”

The boy’s struggles died down a little as Ramsey soothed his fear.  It was odd, seeing the man who was kind to no one be so gentle to the child.  “You promise?” the boy asked, his voice cracking on the last word.

Ramsey set the boy on his feet.  Smiling at him, Ramsey nodded.  “I promise.  Now, if you will do me the honor of helping me towards my sister, I would greatly appreciate it.  As you can see, my head seems to be bleeding.”

The boy’s wide eyes darted up, noticing the red in Ramsey’s normally brown hair.  Grabbing his hand, the boy tugged Ramsey towards Rose until they both stood in front of Peirce.  The boy lightly pushed Ramsey, urging the larger man to sit.  Peirce smiled in pride.  Even with a woman as mad as Emily raising him, the boy was kind hearted.  It was something he hoped his son would be able to hold onto, that kindness.

“How old are you?” Rose asked. 

Peirce knew what she was doing.  She was trying to make it clear who the lad was; she was giving him no doubts that the boy in front of him was, in fact, his son.  “Seven.”

“A small seven,” Rose said, a smile on her face.

The little boy’s face turned red, making Rose laugh a little.  Peirce reached down to intertwine his hand into hers.  “He will grow when he is meant to.  I did not stay small my entire life.”

Rose looked at him from the corner of her eye with a smirk on her face.  “No you did not.”

“Enough,” Ramsey groaned, covering his ears with his hands.  “My head is throbbing.  Please do not make me any more ill than I already am.”

The boy let out a little chuckle, making Rose’s laugher die down.  “He sounds like you.”

“That’s impossible,” Ramsey said with shake of his head.  “The boy has his own distinct laugh.  Just because he is Peirce’s—”

“Where is your father?” Peirce interrupted, not wanting to frighten the boy with too much information.

The boy glanced around as if he were looking for someone.  When his eyes settled on a still immobile Emily, he let out a deep breath.  “Mother tells me he died when I was a child, but Grandmother tells me the truth.”

“Which is?” Rose prompted.

The boy locked eyes with Peirce.  “That he would come for me one day; that I should never give up hope that my father would someday be here.”

“Smart woman, your grandmother.”

“She is,” the boy answered, nodding at Peirce.

Rose squeezed Peirce’s hand before asking her next question.  “What is your name?”

“Phillip,” the boy and Peirce answered simultaneously.

Phillip looked at Peirce with the same confused expression that was on his face earlier, while Rose turned towards Peirce and wrapped her arms around him.  “You found him,” she said, tears making her words mumbled.

Peirce lifted one of his arms and wrapped it around her.  “I found him,” Peirce answered, keeping his eyes on Phillip.  He had finally found his son, but how would Phillip react once he realized who Peirce truly was, who Emily truly was?  Closing his eyes, Peirce let out a deep breath.  He did not know how the boy would cope to learning the truth; he just knew that no matter what, Peirce would not let Phillip out of his sight again.