Father & Son
Chapter thirty-six
Christopher arrived in Ireland only a few days after All Hallows’ Eve.
Though cold, the day was bright and cheerful, and the sea air tugged upon his hair as he thundered along the road, his mount eager to move.
Impatience hummed in his veins as his eyes took in the wind-swept countryside, greens mingling with the golden colors of autumn.
He breathed in deeply, his chest expanding, and a smile came to his face that deepened with each step closer to home.
Soon, home would be a different place. Now, however, Christopher still felt the familiar sense of returning to a place he loved. The place where his son had grown up. The place where he had learned to walk. The place where they had laughed together and played together.
Cresting a small hill, Christopher looked down at the snug manor house nestled in a small valley surrounded by fields of green.
He spotted the swing he had hung in the tall oak tree on the western side, as well as the pond in the back where Sebastian always fed the ducks.
Smoke swirled out of the chimneys, and Christopher caught the faint aroma of meat cooking.
Indeed, it felt like coming home.
Urging his mount onward, Christopher kept his gaze upon the house, all but holding his breath, impatient for the first moment his eyes would fall upon his son.
It had been too long.
As Christopher rode up to the door, it flew open, revealing not his son, but Mrs. O’Brien instead. Her gray hair was braided in a circle atop her head, its color, as always, a perfect match to that of her dress. She seemed utterly colorless…until a smile came to her face.
Oh, for all her colorlessness, Mrs. O’Brien knew how to smile.
She smiled in a way that felt warm and safe and wonderful.
It had been that smile that had made Christopher hire her as Sebastian’s nurse.
He wanted his son to feel loved and treasured, and Mrs. O’Brien knew how to do that better than anyone.
“Lord Lockhart,” she exclaimed, hastening down the few steps to the gravel drive, “how wonderful to see ye return.” Her green eyes sparkled like the hills in the distance.
Jumping to the ground, Christopher returned her smile, feeling his chest expand even further. “I’ve asked you a thousand times to call me Christopher.”
Mrs. O’Brien chuckled. “And I’ve told ye a thousand times that I will not.” Then she embraced him in a way Christopher’s own mother never had. “It’s good to have ye back home, me lord.” She looked up at him and patted his arm. “Good to have ye back.”
Christopher sighed deeply. “It is good to be back.” His eyes swept over the house and the small overgrown arch that led into the garden beyond.
“He’s in the barn,” Mrs. O’Brien answered his silent question. “Mrs. Whiskerson had another litter.”
Christopher cast her a grateful smile and then hurried to the back of the house as fast as his legs could carry him.
The scent of hay lingered in the air as he stepped toward the open barn door.
When Mr. Brady stepped out, tipping his hat in greeting, Christopher put a finger to his lips to silence any reply.
The old man grinned and nodded toward the inside.
Feeling his heart beat in his chest, Christopher stepped into the dim world inside, beams of light filtering through the boards and casting a warm glow over the barn.
Up ahead, a ladder led up to the hayloft, from where a soft voice drifted down.
“You’re a wonderful mother, Mrs. Whiskerson,” Sebastian’s sweet voice whispered, a tinge of longing in it that made Christopher’s heart clench painfully.
“But now you need rest. I promise I shall watch over you and your babies.” After a pause, he added solemnly, “You have my word.”
Touched by his son’s vow, Christopher moved closer and then quietly climbed up the ladder. The moment his head peeked over the edge, his son’s eyes grew round, such open joy in them that Christopher almost lost his hold upon the ladder.
“Father,” Sebastian mouthed quietly, the grin on his face almost blinding.
Christopher could see that he wanted to jump to his feet, but in the last moment, he held himself back, his blue eyes drifting down to the sleeping mother cat curled up in the straw beside him, her front paws draped over his leg.
“I’ll come to you,” Christopher whispered as he climbed onto the hayloft.
Then he shrugged out of his coat and draped it like a blanket over his son’s legs.
He sat down next to Sebastian, and then finally, after endless long weeks, Christopher gently pulled his son back into his arms, careful not to wake Mrs. Whiskerson in the process.
Although the tabby cat yawned and stretched, she did not wake but snuggled closer, her four kittens curled up against her belly.
Sebastian’s little hands reached for him as his head fell to Christopher’s shoulder.
“I’ve missed you, Father. You were gone for so long.
” With his head still resting against Christopher’s shoulder, Sebastian looked up, his blue eyes wide and so very innocent.
“But I knew you would return. Mrs. Whiskerson was worried, but I told her there was no need. I told her you would always return.”
“Of course,” Christopher replied, sensing the need in his son’s voice. “Of course, I’ll always return.” He pulled him tighter into his embrace, needing his son to know that there was no one more important in the world than him. “In fact, the next time I travel I want you to come with me.”
Sebastian’s little face lit up. “Truly?”
Ruffling his son’s light brown hair affectionately, Christopher smiled at him. “Truly. I, too, missed you terribly and I don’t wish to be apart from you for that long again.” He looked into his son’s eyes. “We belong together, you and I, do we not?”
Sebastian’s little head bobbed up and down eagerly.
“Of course, Father.” And then he threw himself into Christopher’s arms all over again, and father and son held each other close, savoring the moment after weeks of separation.
“Where will we go?” Sebastian eventually asked, sitting back and looking up into Christopher’s face.
Eagerness rested in his young eyes, and Christopher smiled.
“To England.” He watched as his son’s eyes widened even farther, a spark of adventure lighting them up.
“There is someone I want you to meet.” Christopher could feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest, for he knew that as much as he loved Juliet, he wanted Sebastian to love her as well. Was that possible?
An image of little Samantha in her parents’ arms flashed through his mind, and Christopher knew that it was. It might take time, but perhaps nothing was truly impossible in this world.
“Who?” Sebastian asked, casting one watchful glance at Mrs. Whiskerson and her kittens. “Who do you want me to meet, Father?”
Christopher inhaled a deep breath. “Her name is Juliet, and I’ve known her all my life. We grew up together, and she was my dearest friend.”
A small frown came to Sebastian’s forehead. “Then what happened? Are you no longer friends?”
“We are,” Christopher assured him with a smile, utter relief spreading through his chest about how everything had turned out. After all, they had come quite close to losing each other all over again. “We are still friends.”
A questioning look remained on Sebastian’s face.
“A…A misunderstanding kept us apart these past few years,” Christopher said vaguely, not wishing to burden his son with too many details. “However, when I traveled back to England, we met again and finally talked to each other. I still love her as much as I loved her the day we parted ways.”
“You love her?” Sebastian’s little hand tightened on Christopher’s, something almost hopeful shining in his blue eyes.
Brushing a hand over his son’s cheek, Christopher nodded. “Yes, I love her, and I would like to marry her.”
A jolt went through Sebastian. His jaw dropped, and his eyes opened wide. “Will she…Will she be my new mother?”
The longing that appeared upon his son’s face almost broke Christopher’s heart.
Of course, Sebastian had asked after his mother and Christopher had not lied to him.
It was something he had learned from the Whickertons.
One might upon occasion stretch the truth or refrain from mentioning something, certainly; however, one did not lie to those one loved.
Especially not about such important matters.
And so, Christopher had always spoken truthfully to his son about how he had come to be and where his mother was, why she was not with them.
Christopher had often seen doubt in Sebastian’s eyes.
He had known that his son could not help but wonder why his mother was not there, why she did not love him enough to be in his life.
In these moments, Christopher had seen the same sadness and regret and insecurity he himself had experienced throughout his own childhood.
He could not recall how often he had wondered what might be wrong with him, why his parents felt no affection, no love for him, at least not the way they did for his siblings.
Sebastian had done the same. Perhaps it was only natural to ask oneself these questions.
However, Christopher had always done his utmost to assure his son that he was loved.
More than that, that he was worthy of love.
And yet doubts had remained, had they not?
Christopher looked deep into his son’s eyes, needing him to hear every word he was about to say. “I told Juliet about you, and she would like that very much. What do you think?”
A tentative smile came to Sebastian’s face. “Truly?” He swallowed, eagerness lighting up his blue eyes. “Do you…Do you think she will like me?”
Fighting the tears that threatened to pool in his eyes, Christopher looked down at his son. “Oh, little Bash, she will love you. I have no doubt. None at all.”
A relieved sigh left Sebastian’s lips, and as he snuggled closer into his father’s embrace, Christopher told him about little Samantha, how she had come into this world and how she had found her way to her parents. It, too, had been an unusual path; and yet it seemed meant to be.
“You see, little Bash,” Christopher concluded, wanting more than anything for his son to understand this, “she was not born to her parents; and yet she is their daughter now in every way that matters. They love her more than life itself, and that is something that will never change.”
Blinking, Sebastian looked up at him. “Do you think she will like me?”
Christopher laughed. “I am absolutely certain you shall be the best of friends.” Indeed, a new generation of Whickertons—fiercely loyal and shockingly dauntless—was a beautiful thought, one far from being impossible.