The Beaumont Children: His Son, Her Secret. Sarah M. Anderson
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“Our son, yes—”
He half shoved her, half lifted her up and carried her to the car. “Take me to him. Right now.”
“All right,” she said, retreating to grab her bag and fishing her keys out of the pocket.
They drove in painful silence. Her apartment was out in Aurora, which meant a solid thirty minutes of feeling Byron’s rage from the passenger seat.
She was miserable. Just when she had a moment of hope, thinking maybe there was still something between them, something good—and it hadn’t lasted. It would never last with Byron. It would always be like this—the two of them straddling the thin line between love and hate.
If only she wasn’t a Harper. If only he wasn’t a Beaumont. If only they’d been two nameless nobodies who could fall in love and live happily ever after in complete obscurity.
But no. It wasn’t to be. He hated her right now because she’d kept quiet.
They pulled into the apartment complex parking lot. “You live here?” Byron asked. She could hear the confusion in his voice.
“Yes. This was all we could afford.”
“And your parents? Your father?”
She got out of the car. “Please don’t mention my father around May. She’s...still nervous about him.”
“Why?”
“Just...don’t.” Because she didn’t want to go into why her parents were terrible people right after she’d finally told Byron about the baby. She grabbed her bag and locked the car. “This way.”
Byron followed her up the two flights of stairs to the third floor of the apartment complex. “Here we are,” she told him, unlocking the door.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re home,” May said from the couch, where Percy was crying. “I really think he’s got another ear infection and—oh!” She recoiled in horror at the sight of Byron.
“It’s all right,” Leona told her little sister. “I told him.”
May stood, cradling Percy in her arms. “He didn’t come to take Percy, did he?”
“No,” Byron said a little too loudly. “I just came to meet my son.”
May’s gaze darted between Leona and Byron like a rabbit trapped between a fox and a rock. And Byron was definitely the fox. “It’s okay?”
Byron stepped up next to her. “Hello, May. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Byron Beaumont.”
Percy looked at Leona and held out his chubby little arms. May couldn’t seem to do anything except stare in openmouthed horror at Byron.
“Let me have him,” Leona finally said. She laid her bag on the kitchen table and took Percy from her sister and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”
May attempted a smile and failed. “I’ll just go. To my room.” She all but sprinted down the hall. Seconds later, her door clicked shut.
“Hey, baby,” Leona said, hugging Percy tight. “Aunt May says you have another ear infection. Do your ears hurt?”
Percy made a high-pitched whine in the back of his throat.
“I know,” she agreed. “No fun at all.” She looked over at Byron, who was gaping at the two of them. “I’m going to go find his ear drops. Do you want to hold him while I look?”
If possible, Byron looked terrified at this suggestion. “He has red hair.”
Leona smiled down at her son. He had his fingers jammed into his mouth and he was getting drool all over her work blouse. “Yes, it’s coming in redder. He takes after you.”
Byron took a step back. “He takes after me,” he repeated in a stunned whisper. “How old?”
“Sit down. I need to get his drops. Then we’ll talk.”
Almost robotically, Byron walked over to the couch and sat heavily.
“Percy, baby, this is your father,” she whispered to her son as she sat him on Byron’s lap. “Just hold him for a second, okay?”
“Um...” came the uncertain reply.
Leona moved quickly. She hurried to the bedroom and stripped out of her suit. She grabbed a clean pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved tee and then rushed to Percy’s room. “May?” she called out. The walls were thin enough that her sister should have no trouble hearing her. “Where are the drops?”
“I couldn’t find them,” May replied through the wall. “Are you sure he’s okay?”
“He’s Percy’s father,” Leona replied quietly. “He has a right to know.”
There was a pause. “If Father finds out he’s back...”
Yeah, that was a problem. Leon Harper would not take kindly to Byron’s return any more than he’d taken kindly to Leona leaving with May. They’d reached an uneasy truce in the family since Percy had been born, but Leona didn’t want anything to set off her father. She didn’t even want to think about how low he might sink to get even with the Beaumonts.
She did a hurried check of the medicine cabinet and then checked her bedside table—ah. There they were—on the floor. They must have gotten knocked off and rolled under the bed. Leona fished the bottle out and held it up to the light. The little bottle was only one-fourth full, but that would have to do for now.
When she got back to the living room, Percy was leaning back against Byron’s chest, starting up at him with curious eyes. “Here,” she said, sitting down next to them. “I need to put the drops in.”
She tilted Percy onto her lap. “Mommy’s going to count to ten, ready? One...” She put the drops in and counted very slowly.
Byron rested his hand on Percy’s feet, and then picked up one foot and held it against his palm. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“...Ten,” she said in a happy voice. “That’s such a good boy! Let’s roll over.” She lifted Percy so that he faced her. “Yes,” she told Byron, “it all happened.” Then she began to count brightly again.
All of it—finding out Byron was exactly like all the other Beaumonts, realizing her father was right, keeping Percy far away from any Beaumont, long nights worrying how she was going to make it all work—it’d all happened.
Without Byron.
When she got to ten again, she sat Percy up. He was half on her lap, half on Byron’s lap, safely stuck in the space between them. He looked up at Byron and smiled a drooly smile.
Byron managed a weak grin and then stroked Percy’s hair. “How old?”
“Almost six months. I was three months pregnant when...” She couldn’t bring herself to say, “when you left.” At least, not out loud.
“I don’t— You didn’t—” He took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, I could have helped out. I could know him.”
She sighed. She’d long since put the events of that night behind her—or so she’d thought. But the pain felt as fresh as it ever had.
“He’s a good baby,” she said, desperate to avoid the hurt of remembering. “He’s teething and that leads to a lot of ear infections, but that’s about the only problem. He’s happy and he eats well. And we...we do all right. He’s got his own room here.” Which was why they were so far out on the edge of Denver. The rents were cheaper, so they could afford a three-bedroom apartment. “I work for Lutefisk Design and May is finishing up college. She watches him when she doesn’t have classes, but when she does, we have him in a day care. He likes it there,” she added.