Grandma Annabelle's Secret ((Closed))

[Williard Thoth R4]

Williard's fork was suspended above his plate; his eyes followed his mother as she went to leave the dining room. He wasn't stupid, nor was he naive; he knew that whenever his grandmother picked on anyone, it was usually for good reason; she wouldn't waste her time otherwise. So.....what exactly was going on? Clearly his grandmother knew what was wrong with his mother, and she was clearly rubbing it in her face. And what was that comment about resemblances between he, his father and Dylan?

"Sarah." Her voice was loud and firm, and rang throughout the dinning room. "Sit back down, now." Williard dropped his fork and leaned back in his chair, glaring at Annabelle. He was kind of still stinging from her "hardening up" comment, but a smile from his aunt had helped to remedy that. He hated it when she spoke to his mother like she was a child. Sarah paused, but then continued walking. Ptah pushed back in his chair poised to go after her, but Annabelle stopped him. "No. Don't you move. Let her go."

"What is going on between you two?" His father was fed up. Williard could tell. "You've been going back and forth since this morning."

"Actually.......we've been going back and forth since what, two days ago when she gave me a call? Past misdeeds will always come back to kick you square in the ass. Williard, Kellan, remember that," she said taking a sip of something that clearly wasn't punch. Williard made a face as if he had smelled the most horrible stench ever.

"What are you talking about-" Annabelle cut Ptah off.

"So Dylan. What is it that your parents do? You being Slytherin, I can only assume that whomever they are, they must be successful and rich. And by successful, I mean a variety of things because Merlin knows those Slytherin alum will do whatever it takes to get to where they want to be. Hell, I'm guilty of that myself."

Williard looked up at Dylan who was staring dead at Annabelle blankly; that was one of the things about Dylan that Williard found really interesting; you couldn't really read him at all, even if you tried your hardest.

"I don't know my real parents." He said it plainly and carelessly, but Williard suddenly had a sinking feeling. "I live at an orphanage in Bri-"

"Bristol, yes-yes, I know." Annabelle took another sip. Williard stared at Dylan, almost shocked. Dylan lived at an orphanage?

"Annabelle, how could you possibly know that?" Mairi had her hand on her head.

"I know a lot of things, dear. Oh, look who's back! You have a spine after all." Sarah had come back into the dinning room, mascara running down her face. It drove him nuts; he hated seeing his mother liked that. Williard went to ask if she was alright, though it was quite obvious she wasn't, and it was almost like she didn't even see him sitting there.

"Why, mom? Hmmm? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Sweet heart, I have done absolutely nothing. You did this to yourself. And what a pickle this is. I mean, what on earth are the odds that-"

"Mother!" Williard had never seen his mother yell like that before.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Gavin turned to his mother.

"Should you tell them, or shall I, Sarah dear? His mother didn't answer. She just stood there, shaking. "Well, I guess I should then. I've been holding this secret in me for far too long anyway." Williard looked almost fearfully at his grandmother.

"Sixteen years ago, before Ptah and Sarah were married, I got a call from my daughter. Something had happened that she hadn't expected."

"What," Ptah inquired, and Williard had the same thought, but Annabelle ignored him and kept on.

"She told her then boyfriend that she had to leave for a couple months to care for her, how did you put it Sarah, deathly sick Aunt Faye. Needless to say, Faye wasn't sick. In fact, Faye was staying with me for a while, and oh, did we act up. Good times, good times. Anyway, Sarah had come to stay with me for those three months until she was ready."

"Ready for what?" Annabelle didn't answer Ptah's question but instead looked dead at her daughter who had tears streaming down her face.

"I really do think you should take over from here dear. No? Well then." Annabelle sat up straighter and looked at Ptah. "Sarah was pregnant. She didn't tell you because she didn't know how you would react."

Williard felt his jaw drop a little. His mother let out a renewed sob, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his father slowly turn and look at his wife. Williard had never seen that look in his fathers face before; he looked utterly confused, hurt, shocked, and Williard felt tears come to his own eyes.

"She came to Bristol," she said glancing at Dylan, "stayed with me for the last few months of her pregnancy, but, unlike we planned, I didn't help her deliver. The day she was due, that evening, Faye and I went to get some last minute things, and when we came back, Sarah was gone. We looked for her, but we couldn't find her anywhere. Two days later, she called us from the local hospital, and she had already given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. When she came back to my house from the hospital, it was late, it was dark, and it was raining. I expected her have her baby with her, but she didn't. She gave him up to one of the local orphanages. I was so livid with her I drew my wand on her. It was such a cowardly thing to do. I even offered to raise the boy myself, but she was intent that he should stay where she left him. Over the first few years I had even thought about going to that rinky-dink place and taking him." She looked at Dylan again, and this time, Williard had just remembered that he was even there. And when he looked at him, he was surprised; Dylan looked as if he had just swallowed poison. "Piecing it together are you?" Annabelle smiled at him.

At that moment, Dylan had gotten up from the table, eyes locked on Annabelle. He went to say something, but didn't, or couldn't rather. Williard had wanted to say something, anything to him, but Dylan had wheeled around and faced Sarah, who's hands flew to her mouth. Ptah looked from Sarah to Dylan, and his head lowered, his mind clearly buzzing. Dylan walked forward, and for a second, it looked as if he were going to stop in front of Sarah, but he walked passed her, and Williard knew he was on his way out. He looked back at Ptah; his father was hurt, he could tell, and Williard felt a tear roll down his cheek. He couldn't take this.

"Annabelle," Ptah said almost breathless, "Dylan.........he's......he-"

"Is your son? I would say it's more than likely, but I'll do you one better. Yes. I believe he is. Caoimhe isn't a common last name dear."