~Declan~
We arrived home early. It was one of the perks of taking a red-eye. Of course, my body had no idea what time it was, considering the time change and the fact that I hadn't slept more than a few hours since the night of the premiere. Stepping off the plane in Virginia, I felt like I was coming home. Even though my home, the one I owned, was in California, Virginia felt like my real home now. Leah was here, and there was no other place I wanted to be. It turns out that someone else was here, and I needed to find him —as soon as possible.
Father, dad, daddy, papa —none of those words registered in my brain. For now, he was a child I was connected to, but I still didn't feel like anyone's father. A million thoughts raced through my head as we made our way out of the airport and onto the interstate. Williamsburg was less than an hour from the airport, so I had very little time to gather my thoughts. It was like trying to pluck bits of dust scattering through the air. They were everywhere and fanning out in a million directions.
Did Heather tell him anything about me? Did he know my name? What if he hated me already? Worse, what if I didn't exist at all? Was I ready to be a father? Did I want to be? If he was living with Sarah and her new husband, he should stay there...right? That was what Heather had wanted. But what about what I wanted? What did I want?
F*ck.
Thank God Leah was driving. I didn't think I saw any of the scenery the entire way there. It was just endless trees passing by in a blur. Leaving L.A. a day early had given us an entire twenty-four hours of free time. Neither Leah nor I had to work, and rather than wait and try to put this off, we'd thought it would be better for both of us to just go now while we had the time and the courage. I needed to know if that child was my son, and I needed answers that I was hoping Sarah could give me.
The crunching gravel pulled me out of my trance, and I looked up to find us in the driveway of a Colonial brick house. It looked new, but the architecture was fitting of the historical town and surroundings. It was well kept with a porch swing and potted plants, and it looked like the perfect place to raise a child. I suddenly felt like an intruder. The boy had just lost his mother. He was probably adjusting to a new life, and here I was, about to screw that all up.
What was I doing? I shouldn't be here.
I turned to Leah to see her eyes were on me. She was trying to appraise the situation. Apparently, my freak-out was evident.
"I can't do this, Leah. I can't do this to him."
"Declan..."
I didn't respond. My head went to my knees, and I felt like my lungs were caving in. This was too much, too real. I was an epic f*ck-up. No one deserved a father like me. Jesus, Leah's face was plastered everywhere this morning from one night out in Hollywood with me. What would happen when the papers found out I had a secret child? It could destroy a kid.
"Declan, look at me," Leah said firmly, causing me to turn my gaze upward. "You need to calm the f*ck down. You're starting to hyperventilate. I know this is hard. I know it's a lot, but I'm here, okay? We're in this together, and whatever happens, you owe it to yourself and that little boy to get out of this car and try. Do you understand?"
She squeezed my hand, and I felt my pulse begin to slow. Her touch always calmed my nerves.
"God, I love you."
She smiled, and we eventually made our way out of the car and down the long walkway. Leah knocked on the door. It was a weekday and just past noon. If anyone were home, it wouldn't include Connor. Leah and I had figured it would be best this way, talking to Sarah first, rather than showing up, unannounced, with Connor in the house.
A few seconds passed by before a familiar brunette opened the door. It took her a minute, but the recognition appeared, and she pulled me into a tight hug.
"Declan, it's so good to see you!"
"You, too, Beanpole. How are you?"
"I hate that nickname! And as you can see, I'm not quite a beanpole anymore!" she said, wiggling her hips as she led us inside.
"No." I laughed. "You look great, Sarah."
"Turns out having a baby will work wonders on a figure if you have none."
"Congratulations are in order, I guess," I said warmly.
"Thank you. Her name is April, and she's ten months. She's down for a nap, but she should be up soon." Sarah smiled and then motioned for us to sit down in the family room. It was large and filled with baby stuff —a rocker, swing, toys.
As I looked closer, I saw a few older toys lying around —an iPod, some sort of hand held gaming device in the corner, and a few action heroes. Connor was definitely living with them.
"So, what brings the Hollywood star to my door today and who have you brought with you?" she asked sweetly.
I introduced Leah and they exchanges pleasantries, complimenting each other on their outfits and shoes, and all the other shit women did when they met.
"I heard about Heather," I said, trying to get to the point.
"Oh, yes, we lost her a few months ago in a car accident. She was like a sister to me, you knew that. Even after Devin whisked me away to Virginia a few years ago, we always remained close. I miss her every day."
"I'm so sorry, Sarah. I know you were like sisters. I still remember how you used to raid each other's closets and finish each other's sentences. I always envied that closeness you had."
She blinked back tears and nodded silently. "Thank you, Declan. I really appreciate you coming by to pass on your condolences. You didn't have to come all the way here to do it though."
"Well, I'm moving to Virginia permanently, so I wanted to come by and say how sorry I was. Leah's a nurse in Richmond. She works in labor and delivery."
Sarah looked a bit confused, but she smiled. She asked if we'd like anything to drink or to snack on but we politely declined. I was getting a tad annoyed with Sarah for avoiding the topic at hand. She had my son, and she was obviously going to make no attempt to tell me.
"I was lucky enough to meet Leah through my good friend, Logan. You remember Logan, right? He used to come visit me from time to time in college."
She nodded and started to reply, but I just continued, "Anyway, he lives in Richmond now with his wife and daughter. He's an ER doctor. He works on all sorts of trauma cases...including car accidents."
She saw my eyes narrow in on the action figures on the coffee table. Her eyes widened, and tears began spilling over.
"I'm sorry, Declan. She made me promise not to tell you, and I was just trying to be a good friend."
"Why, Sarah? Why would she do that? I deserved to know!" I roared.
"She went to visit you after she'd found out she was pregnant," Sarah said quickly.
"What? No, she didn't," I argued.
"Yes, she did. She flew to California. She said L.A. was completely different than any other place she'd ever been to, but she managed to find where you lived. She saw you coming out of your apartment. There was a woman with you, and Heather said you basically gave the woman the toss. Told her you had a great time and sent her on her way."
My jaw ticked, and I cursed under my breath. I hadn't gotten over Heather well. Getting over the heartbreak had been what had ushered in the new phase of my life where I'd spent years moving from one woman to the next, never allowing myself to get too close. I'd been too afraid that I would get hurt again.
"So, she left? Without talking to me?"
"You have to understand, Declan. She had a baby on the way, and she was scared you weren't the same man. She had to make a choice, and she chose to protect her child."
"She chose wrong, Sarah. No matter what was going on in my personal life, I would have done anything for him, anything."
"I tried to change her mind," she said.
I picked up the action figure and held it in my hand, wondering what he looked like when he would play with it. I wanted to know everything about him. What kind of music did he like? Did he like Mexican food? Did he like watching movies?
"I want to meet my son, Sarah."
~Leah~
Unfortunately, Declan didn't receive the answer he had been hoping for. But he hadn't gotten a no either. Sarah had said she would need to discuss it with her husband, who was currently away on business, and he wouldn't be returning for a few days. She'd promised she would call us soon and give us a decision. She'd seemed open to the idea, but having never met her husband, Devin, I really didn't know how things would go.
We had other options. Declan could prove his paternity and fight for visitation, but he would much rather go this route, believing it would be easier on everyone involved. The last thing we needed was the press getting wind of this and having Connor's picture all over the headlines. Sarah would never let Declan see him.
As we were leaving, Sarah pulled Declan aside and whispered something in his ear. He looked at her and silently acknowledged with a slight nod. I didn't know what was said until we were in the car and about to leave Williamsburg.
He said, "Could you take a right here? There's somewhere I want to go before we leave."
Five minutes later, we were at a cemetery.
"Sarah said this is where they buried Heather. Since custody of Connor was given to Sarah and Devin in the will, they decided it would be best to have her final resting spot closer to where he would be raised. I wanted to..."
"Go," was all I said. I knew he needed this —to say good-bye, to grieve for a life he had never had the opportunity to have.
I followed close behind as we quietly walked through the old cemetery. It was nearly empty, only a few people wandering around due to the cold. I pulled the belt of my coat tighter and carried on. Just ahead, we found it. The headstone was new and gleamed against the sun, proudly displaying the name Heather Brooks. Declan didn't have any flowers, but he knelt to the side, careful not to disturb candles and notes.
One in particular caught his eye, and he hesitated a bit before picking it up.
It had Mom written across the front, and on the inside, it simply said, I miss you, in messy little boy handwriting.
Declan stared at the words for a moment, rubbing his thumb over them, before placing the note back exactly where it had stood earlier.
"I don't know how to do this," he said. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. It's just you and me, Declan. Say whatever you want or say nothing at all."
"I'm just so...I'm just so angry with her. Eight years, Leah. Eight years went by, and she couldn't have picked up the phone and bothered to mention that I had a f*cking son?" His voice turned harsh, and I could hear the raw hurt.
Something had been taken away from him, and he had no one to blame, no one to be angry with, except for a headstone.
"I wanted so desperately to ask Sarah if I could see a photo of him just to see what he looked like. But then I thought, What if they say no? What if I never get to meet him? Then, I'd have an image of him for the rest of my life, and nothing to go with it. Nothing. Just a ghost of what could have been if Heather had just chosen to do the right thing."
I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him. He fell back into me, and we sat down on the dirt together, me cradling him as he let go. All the pent-up anger and tense disposition he'd been holding on to gave way, and he sobbed. He turned in my arms, so he could bury himself into me as he released everything he'd bottled up.
I could do nothing but stroke his hair and be there for him. When women cried, they wailed and moaned. Hearing a man cry was agonizing. When men cried, it was ugly and raw. It was guttural and visceral, like someone was ripping them into two. It was like they were both fighting and giving in to the emotion all at once.
He clung to me like his life depended on it, gripping the fabric of my coat so hard that his fingers were turning white.
"Do you think I'm ready to be a father?" he asked when his tears had finally dried up and his breathing had slowed.
"I think you are one whether you are ready or not," I answered.
"Never in a million years would I ever be ready for something like this."
"I think you can do anything," I said against his ear.
"Let's go home, babe," he said, giving me a ghost of a smile.
We made our way back to the car, hand in hand, wandering silently down the path.
"You know, you really suck at pet names," I said suddenly.
"What? What's wrong with babe?"
"It's totally unoriginal."
"Well, I guess I'll have to work on that then, honey buns."
"Nope, try again."
"Sweet bottom?"
"No!"
He laughed, and it was the first laugh I'd heard in what felt like years. It was like music to my ears. He threw an arm over my shoulder as we walked.
He kissed my head. "Thank you," he whispered.
I didn't ask why. I knew he meant for this, for the last two days, for being in that hospital that night. As hard as this discovery was, I had known he needed to know, and I knew he would be better because of it.