Part Three
The Wells' Family Legacy
The next day, Thomas woke up early. Glancing over at the still-form of Hunter sleeping on the floor from him--there was only one bed in the room Kathleen had offered for them to sleep in and Hunter had immediately given it to Thomas--he decided to leave him be. After getting dressed, he crept silently downstairs, planning on going outside to enjoy the sunrise when he heard noises in the kitchen. Following them, he found Kathleen bustling around, appearing to have started work on breakfast. Or, he corrected when he spotted the pan filled with pastries in her hand, perhaps she was working on opening the bakery for the day.
“Good morning,” Thomas called, causing his mother to almost drop the pan in her hands, whirling around in confusion to see who had spoken to her.
When her eyes fell upon Thomas, she visibly relaxed. “Oh. It’s just you. You scared me, sweetie.”
Thomas gave a small smile. “I noticed,” he lightly teased, still unsure how he was supposed to act around his mother. “Can I help you in any way?”
Kathleen frowned, glancing around the kitchen. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I’m just getting ready to open up in about an hour or so.”
Thomas nodded in understanding, though his awkwardness had increased tenfold upon the realization that he couldn’t help. He fumbled for another conversation starter, trying and failing to connect with the woman who had birthed him. “Um…how--”
“Momma! Momma!” a voice shouted, interrupting Thomas’ abysmal attempts at a natural-sounding conversation. He heard the sound of running footsteps pounding down the stairs, turning just in time to watch Petrus launch himself into the room, immediately attaching himself to Kathleen.
“Oh!” Kathleen exclaimed, stumbling slightly to keep the pan of pastries in her hand from falling. She wrapped her free arm around her son, hugging him. “Good morning!”
Petrus said something back, though his voice was too muffled for Thomas to hear properly. Kathleen appeared to have no trouble understanding him, for she nodded and replied, “Of course.”
Petrus removed himself from his mother’s hug, beaming up at her. Then, he bounced over to the table with dough on it, beginning to knead it. Thomas watched him, confused as to how he had received a task while Kathleen had told him that she didn’t need any help.
Spotting his look, Kathleen explained, “One of Petrus’ chores in the morning is to knead the bread.”
“Just like it’s my chore to wash the dishes,” someone said with exaggerated displeasure. Turning around, Thomas watched as Henry stepped into the kitchen, sending a warm smile in his wife’s direction, which Kathleen happily returned.
She set down the pan in her hand, stepping forward to give Henry a hug. “Don’t sound so irritated. I know you enjoy it.”
Henry glanced away, sighing. “I don’t know if I would go so far as to say that.”
Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “Really? I seem to recall you saying that just the other day.”
Henry tilted his head to the side. “Well, considering that I don’t remember that, it never happened.”
Thomas shifted his weight, unable to stop the awkwardness flooding through him. It seemed that everyone had a job to help start a new day at the bakery, except for him. Henry seemed to find it easy to talk with Kathleen, knowing exactly what to say to keep the conversation going. It was an ease that Thomas found himself thinking that he would never manage to get to with Kathleen, a skill that he seemed to struggle with. Deciding that he didn’t belong in the conversation and didn’t have a place in the Fields’ household, he silently left, leaving Kathleen and Henry to discuss Henry’s opinion about washing dishes and Petrus to his job of kneading bread. He headed back to the room he had shared with Hunter, surprised to find his friend awake and already dressed for the day.
“I thought you would’ve been asleep all morning,” he said, knowing how much Hunter detested waking early.
He shrugged, keeping his attention away from Thomas and on his pack. “That was my plan, until a little boy ran down the stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs.”
Thomas laughed, sitting down on his bed. His awkwardness was gone, replaced instead with the comfortableness that came from talking with his friend. Here, exchanging words with Hunter, was where he belonged. Here, he felt like he had a place and that his presence was valued.
Still, he couldn’t help but want that same feeling with his family. He hadn’t found that with his mother and her family, but there was a chance that he could still find it with his father, a person he knew was actively trying to find him when he thought back to the soldier’s question from a week and a half ago and if his conversation with Hunter six days ago was to be believed.
“Have you heard the rumor of Matheson Wells having a son?”
Matheson Wells, the Aspayan Hero, had a son named Thomas Hayes, and was looking for him at that very moment.
“When are we leaving to go to Castle Tascela?” he asked.
Hunter blinked, pausing in his action of digging through his pack to turn and give Thomas a confused look. “You want to leave already?” He sounded shocked, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Thomas nodded. “Meeting Kathleen, Henry, and Petrus was great, but…” His voice wandered off, not quite sure how to explain what he was feeling.
“But?” Hunter prompted, sitting down next to Thomas on the bed, giving Thomas his complete, undivided attention.
Thomas glanced away. “I just want to meet Matheson.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was the best way to phrase the complicated feelings inside of him.
Instead of pushing for more of an explanation, Hunter simply nodded. “Ok. Then let’s go.” He stood up, heading back to his pack, appearing to be beginning to get ready to go.
“Wait, you mean now?” Thomas asked.
Hunter shrugged. “Why not?”
Thomas smiled, feeling excitement rushing through him. In just a single day’s time, he would be meeting his father. In fact, if they traveled fast enough, it could be that very day. He leaped up, grabbing his pack and getting his own things together.
“Are we leaving?” a voice asked. Thomas looked behind him to find Braya standing in the doorway. She was already dressed and her pack was on her back, making it seem like she herself was ready to leave for Castle Tascela.
“Yep,” Hunter replied, popping the p. He glanced at her, seeming to notice her ready stance as well. “Though it appears you’re already ready to go.”
Braya shifted her hold on her pack. “I was going to leave now regardless of what you guys were doing.”
Thomas blinked. “By yourself?”
Braya shrugged. “I traveled from Evermeadow Fief to Ridgecrest all alone with no trouble. Here to Castle Tascela is nothing compared to that.” Her gaze shifted away from him and to Hunter, who had seemingly finished packing and had his pack slung over one shoulder. “Besides, I thought Hunter would’ve thought about what I told him last night.”
Confused, Thomas looked over at his friend. “What is she talking about?”
Hunter kept his gaze on Braya, a steady look in his eyes. “Nothing. All that matters is what you want, Thomas.”
Braya folded her arms. “And not what would be the safest?”
“Life is filled with risks,” Hunter replied easily. “The trick is to take the ones that have benefits outweighing the danger.”
“And this is one of those times?” Braya asked, her voice incredulous.
Hunter shrugged. “We won’t know until the end.” He walked past Braya, beginning to make his way downstairs. “Come on. There’s no sense in wasting time talking when we have somewhere to be.”
Thomas grabbed his own bag, starting to follow his friend.
“Thomas.” He paused as Braya grabbed his arm, turning around to face her worried face. “Do you really want to meet your father?”
Thomas gave her an affronted look, shocked that she would even be asking that question. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
Braya pursed her lips. “A lot of people don’t like him, myself included. He helped tremendously with creating the Aspayan Empire, making a name for himself as the Aspayan Hero. Without him, Malin and Tascela would have never fallen. I--”
Thomas pulled himself out of Braya’s grasp. “You don’t know that for sure. You don’t know what would’ve happened without him.”
“Maybe that’s true,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s evil. Th--”
“Have you ever met him?” Thomas interrupted. “Do you know that for certain?”
“Well, no, but there’s rumors tha--”
“Rumors,” he repeated. “Rumors, not fact.”
“Thomas, listen to me!” Braya exclaimed. “I don’t want you to be hurt. If he does, in fact, turn out to be bad, that would crush you. Isn’t it better to just stay away, to not put yourself in a position where you would be hurt?”
Thomas inhaled sharply, not sure how to explain to her why she was wrong. Then, he remembered his words from years ago, his response to Hunter when his friend asked him if he still wanted to meet his parents even if they were bad people.
“I would rather know them as they really are and not the fictitious copies of them I have in my mind. Without a doubt, I would like to meet them. At least once in my lifetime.”
“I’m hurting right now, Braya,” he said softly. “I’m hurting with not knowing a single real thing about Matheson. Wouldn’t it be better for me to actually know who he really is and not the imagined person I have in my head? Wouldn’t it be better if I really knew him and not what the rumors say he is like?” He paused, letting Braya understand what he was saying before he continued speaking. “Hunter said that the right risks to take are the ones with benefits that outweigh the danger. I feel that, in this case, going to the castle benefits me more than where I am right now. It can’t be any worse than my life now, with being unable to answer simple questions about my family, with being unable to talk about my parents, without any knowledge about them.”
“Thomas…” Braya started to say but soon broke off.
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“I’m sorry, Braya, but I’m meeting Matheson, regardless of what you say or believe. He’s my father and it’s my decision to meet him, not yours.” With that, he left the room, leaving her alone with his parting words. He headed down the stairs, making his way to the kitchen where he had left Kathleen, Henry, and Petrus. Hunter had joined them, talking easily with them in a way that Thomas wished he could emulate.
“Ready?” Hunter asked, spotting him standing in the doorway.
Kathleen frowned, glancing at the packs on both of their backs. “Are you guys leaving already?”
Thomas nodded. “We’re off to meet my father.”
Silence met his declaration. Hunter rolled his eyes, looking away to stare out of the kitchen window. Kathleen blinked, seeming to not understand what Thomas had just said. Henry, for his part, looked extremely uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Braya had followed Thomas into the room, making it just in time to catch his words. Her lips were pursed and she looked upset that Thomas hadn’t heeded her words. Petrus appeared to be the only one not aware of the awkwardness that had spread like wildfire in the kitchen, the sounds of his humming as he kneaded bread the only sound in the entire room. Finally, after what felt like hours, Kathleen broke the quiet that had befallen them.
“Sweetie, I don’t think that’s the smartest move.”
Thomas bit his tongue, refusing to give into his anger. First, it was Michael insisting that he didn’t meet Matheson, then Braya, and, now, it was his own mother. It seemed to him that the only person fine with his decision and actively trying to help him fulfill his life’s greatest desire was Hunter. “And why not?”
Kathleen frowned, an action that, to him, looked to be condescending. The inflection in her voice also sounded condescending, almost as if she was trying to explain a simple thing to a young child. “Thomas, everything I did for the past twelve years has been in an attempt to try and protect you from him. I gave you up so that you would never be anywhere near him. And now you’re saying that you want to go meet him?”
Thomas huffed. He was good at curbing his anger, about letting it go and thinking logically about things. In his opinion, anger never solved anything, only serving to cause rifts in relationships. However, he couldn’t stop the anger flooding through him now, anger at his mother for not understanding that it was his life, not hers, and therefore his decision, not hers, if he wanted to meet his father. She had decided to not be a part of his life twelve years ago when she asked Michael to take her three-year-old son to Ridgecrest Orphanage to be raised, yet here she stood, feeling as if she had any say in his actions.
“I didn’t ask for your protection. I didn’t ask for you to give me up. The one thing I want in my life is to know where I come from. To know who my parents are and what they’re like. Why are you so against that? Why won’t you support what I want to do?”
Kathleen reacted like every word Thomas said was a physical blow, leaving her breathless, her wide eyes staring at him. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes, some already making their way down her face. She blinked, seemingly made speechless by his harsh words.
“Son,” Henry said, stepping forward to speak for his wife. “Yo--”
“I’m not your son,” Thomas snapped, taking a step backwards away from his mother’s husband. “So don’t act like I am.”
Henry blinked, his mouth open as he stared at Thomas. For a second, Thomas felt bad, mad at himself for letting his anger take hold of him. It had been unleashed and it appeared to do the one thing Thomas knew it would: break his relationship with Kathleen and Henry. And for what? To achieve his desire to meet his father?
Then, he remembered how there wasn’t a place for him in their family, remembered how much he didn’t belong here with them, remembered how they seemed to not value the fact that he was here. And, if there was a chance all of that was wrong with his father, that there was a place for him at Matheson’s side, that he belonged with him, that he valued his time with Thomas, then he was going to chase after it, even if it meant ruining his relationships here.
After all, there wasn’t much to destroy, was there? Not when he couldn’t speak with them. Not when they acted surprised that he was even in the same room as them. Not when they didn’t seem to notice when he left.
“I’m going to meet my father,” Thomas said. “And there’s nothing you can do that will stop me. Goodbye.”
With that, he turned on his heel, holding tight to his pack, and walked outside. He heard Hunter follow him, and he stopped at the foot of the steps leading into the bakery.
“Am I wrong?” he asked his friend. When Hunter didn’t answer, he turned to face him. He was standing at the top of the stairs, looking down on him with hesitation, almost as if he didn’t know the answer to Thomas’ question. Before he could answer, Braya stormed out.
“Thomas, what the hell was that?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “They’re only trying to help you, to protect you, yet you yell at them? The--”
“Braya,” Hunter said softly, touching her arm. “Let him be.”
Braya whirled on him, her eyes flashing with anger. Her hands were at her sides, her fists clenched seemingly from the anger flooding through her. “You’re no better than him! Why are you so bent on taking him to a person that his own mother wants him to stay away from?”
Hunter glanced away, but Thomas still spotted a guilty expression on his face, the same look that had been on his face when Michael had told him about Kathleen, the same way he had looked when Thomas had told Braya they were going to see his mother, even the same look he had on his face when Thomas had asked him if he knew anything about his mother. This time, though, Thomas wasn’t going to ignore it.
“And how come you always look guilty when we talk about my mother?” he asked.
Hunter’s head snapped up to meet Thomas’ eyes, looking shocked by the fact that he had noticed that particular mannerism of his. “I-I--” he stuttered, glancing between Braya and Thomas. Seeing him struggle with explaining something wasn’t an action that he would have attributed to his friend, but here he was, watching him fumble to speak. Finally, Hunter closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before saying, “I knew who your mother was before Michael told you.”
Thomas blinked, not quite comprehending what he had just heard. “What?” he breathed out.
Hunter nodded, looking extremely uncomfortable and guilty. “I knew who your mother was and where she lived before Michael talked to us.”
Thomas stared at his friend, thinking back on their conversation in the boys’ dormitory six days ago.
“Do you know anything about my mother?”
Hunter blinked, not saying a word for a few seconds. To Thomas, it looked like he was almost guilty about something. Before Thomas could ask him what was wrong, he shook his head and then stared Thomas straight in the eye as he said, “No. I only know about your father.”
“You lied?”
Hunter sighed. “I did and believe me when I say th--”
“I asked you point-blank if you knew about her and you said you didn’t!” Thomas yelled, stepping away from Hunter.
“I know,” Hunter said, looking mournful. “I know and I apologize for that.”
“Why?” he asked, trying and failing to understand why his friend would have ever withheld information about Kathleen.
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said softly.
“How do you not know?” he demanded, staring incredulously at Hunter.
“Maybe I didn’t want to tell you,” Hunter snapped. “Did you think about that? Did you think about the fact that there are things that I don’t want you to know about?”
“But she’s my mother!” Thomas shouted, gesturing back to the bakery. “How could you not tell me about her?”
“Because I’m jealous!” Hunter shouted. Thomas paused, blinking at him. Taking the silence as permission to continue speaking, Hunter did. “I won’t see my parents ever again and, for years, you thought the same thing. Yet here we are, standing outside of your mother’s bakery and about to go to Castle Tascela so you can meet your father. Maybe I didn’t tell you about Kathleen because I didn’t want to give you the opportunity to meet both of your parents. I only wanted to give you the chance to meet one of them.” Braya scoffed, causing Hunter to turn to face her. “You don’t believe me?”
Braya folded her arms. “I didn’t say that. I do believe the fact that you’re jealous, but I don’t think that’s the full reason. You decided to take Thomas to meet one of his parents and you knew about both of them, yet you chose his father. His father, the Aspayan Hero, a man who everyone dislikes. A man that no one wants Thomas to meet. Why him and not Kathleen? It brings me back to my question from last night: why are you so determined to allow Thomas to meet Matheson?”
Hunter didn’t say anything, only glancing away from both of them. Thomas stared at his friend, still angry that he had been lied to, but desperate to hear his answer to Braya’s questions. When none were forthcoming, Braya added, “It almost sounds to me like you’re planning something. Like you’re trying to ensure that Thomas goes to Castle Tascela and meets his father.”
Hunter laughed, though it didn’t sound like he found what Braya had said funny. To Thomas, it almost sounded like he was scared and was laughing to disguise the fact that Braya’s words had gotten to him.
“Planning something?” Hunter laughed again. “Do you hear yourself? Tell me, how can I be planning something when I can’t even go into the castle?”
Thomas frowned. “What do you mean? Don’t you live there? Haven’t you been living there for years now?”
Hunter chuckled, though it still didn’t seem like he found what they were talking about to be funny in the slightest. “I used to live there,” he corrected. “That all changed when the Tascelan Archers were banned. If I go in, I would be arrested, deemed a traitor to the Empire, my officer pin taken from me.” Almost unconsciously, he brought his hand up to touch the sunflower head pinned to his cloak. He looked over at Braya. “So I ask you again: what could I possibly be planning if I can’t even enter the castle?”
Braya stayed silent, her mouth turned down into a frown, appearing to be thinking through Hunter’s question. Deciding that her silence was a sign that Hunter had won and her idea had no support to it, Hunter walked down off of the steps, walking towards the stables where they had put their horses last night before they headed to the bakery.
“If everyone’s done questioning me and yelling at each other, I vote that we leave. There’s no sense in wasting any more time here.”
Braya and Thomas stayed where they were, both watching the disappearing figure of Hunter.
“He’s still hiding something,” Braya told Thomas. “I would be careful if I were you, Thomas, careful of him and your father.”
With that, she followed Hunter into the stables. Thomas shifted his hold on his pack, suddenly feeling nervous of what was to come. He had argued with Braya, Kathleen, and Henry about meeting his father, something that he had thought Hunter had been a strong supporter for.
Only to find out that Hunter had lied to him and, as Braya suggested, was planning something around getting Thomas to meet Matheson.
Was he really doing the right thing? Was it right for him to let Hunter break his promise to Michael in getting him to agree to take him to Castle Tascela, a promise that Hunter claimed he never gave? Was it right for him to have pushed away Kathleen and Henry in the hopes that doing so would allow him to meet his father? Was it right for him to follow Hunter to Castle Tascela, knowing that everyone was against him meeting Matheson, knowing that keeping him away from Matheson was the reason why he had grown up in Ridgecrest, knowing that Braya thought that Hunter had an ulterior motive?
“I would rather know them as they really are and not the fictitious copies of them I have in my mind. Without a doubt, I would like to meet them. At least once in my lifetime.”
With that reminder of why he had agreed to this trip in the first place, Thomas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He had to go, despite the concerns. He had to keep moving forward, despite not knowing if he was doing the right thing or not. As Hunter had said just that morning, everything in life was a risk. The right ones to act upon were the ones with more benefits than there was danger. And he wouldn’t know if going to Castle Tascela was the right risk to take until after it was all over.
Much like he wouldn’t know if what he was doing was the right thing to do until everything was finished.
Thomas glanced back at the bakery, looking at the sign above the door with a snow goose on it. He brought his hand up to graze the medallion under his shirt. He now knew the person that had gifted it to him, now understood why she had let him go. Yet here he was, about to go against her wishes for him to never meet his father. If he was doing that, should he still hold tight on to the medallion? If he finally knew who she was, should he still tether himself to her ghostly promise?
“It’s a snow goose, sweetie. As long as you have it, I will be with you. I love you, Thomas.”
He took off the medallion, looking at it intently. He traced the lines of the flying bird, feeling sadness wash over him. Maybe Kathleen did love him, maybe his mother did everything she did in the name of keeping him safe from Matheson. But that still didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want him to fulfill his greatest desire in life: meeting his parents--both of them. That still didn’t change the fact that he felt like he didn’t belong in the family she had created with Henry and Petrus.
Thomas bent down, placing the medallion down on the first step of the stairs leading up to the front door of the bakery. Without it, he felt naked, almost as if he had lost a part of himself. And maybe he had, he thought when he stood back up again, staring down at the snow goose.
“Goodbye, Mom,” he whispered, not sure if he was talking directly to her or if he was talking to the medallion. And as he turned to walk away, heading into the stables to get Angelina, he realized that that was the first time he had ever called Kathleen ‘Mom’ directly. And as he followed behind Hunter with Braya next to him, their horses trotting down the path to Castle Tascela, he also realized that it would be the only time he would ever do so.
Because no longer would he tether himself to a promise that he wasn’t quite sure was true anymore. No longer would he stay up late, thinking about the woman from his dreams, with her long, dark hair and her green eyes. No longer would he want to meet his mother.
Because he had. He had talked with her, had gotten to know the person that she was, had understood why she had done what she had. And now it was time for him to say the same for his father.
Now was the time for him to meet Matheson Wells, to talk with him, to get to know the person he was outside of all the rumors, to understand why he had done what he had done.
And it was time for him to know if he was truly doing the right thing and if he was, in fact, taking the right risk.