Page 52 of Knocked up By the Mountain Man

For a moment, we stand in complete silence, the weight of my words hanging in the air. My father looks at me, a mixture of anger, disappointment, and something I can’t quite place in his eyes. Finally, he sighs, a long, weary sound.

“Do what you have to do,” he says, his voice resigned. “But don’t expect me to support this decision.”

I nod, feeling a strange sense of relief. “I understand. But this is what I need to do.”

I turn and leave the study, not looking back, feeling unburdened as I go. There’s no indecision anymore. I know exactly what I need to do, and it feels good.

The air outside feels fresher, lighter, and as I walk back to the guest house, the relief of standing up to my father starts to settle in. The night air is cool, a stark contrast to the tension still lingering in my chest. But as I approach the guest house, I hear raised voices. My steps quicken, and I recognize Clara’s voice,strained and defensive. Wyatt is back, and he’s arguing with her again.

I burst through the door to find Wyatt standing too close to Clara, his face twisted in anger. Clara’s eyes flash with a mix of fear and defiance as she holds Thomas protectively in her arms.

“What the hell is going on here?” I demand, my voice booming in the small space.

Wyatt spins around, his eyes narrowing as he sees me. “This is none of your business, Beau.”

“The hell it isn’t,” I shoot back. “Everything involving Clara and Thomas is my business. If you can’t talk to us calmly, then you need to leave, Wyatt.”

He sneers, stepping closer to me, his posture aggressive. “You think you can just waltz back in here and play the hero? You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

I move to stand between him and Clara, my body a protective barrier. “I know enough. And I know you’re not welcome here. Leave. Now.”

Wyatt’s face contorts with rage, but he backs off slightly. “You’re making a big mistake, Beau. You can’t save everyone.”

“I don’t need to save everyone,” I reply, my voice steady. “Just my family. And that’s what Clara and Thomas are.”

For a moment, it looks like Wyatt might lash out, but then he stops, a strange expression crossing his face. His eyes flick between me, Clara, and Thomas then between me and Thomas. Something clicks in his mind, and his face goes pale.

“Wait a minute,” Wyatt mutters, more to himself than to us. “Thomas is... yours? Is that what you mean?”

The room falls silent, the weight of his realization sinking in. Clara’s grip tightens on Thomas, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope.

I nod, stepping closer to Wyatt, my voice firm. “Yes, Wyatt. Thomas is my son.”

Wyatt stumbles back, dropping into a chair, his face a mask of shock. He looks at Thomas, then at Clara, and finally back at me. “I... I didn’t know. I thought... Clara, why didn’t you tell me?”

Clara’s voice is soft but resolute. “I didn’t think you’d understand, Wyatt. I thought you’d side with our uncle. I was scared. I know Beau is your best friend and I didn’t think you’d like it.”

Wyatt runs a hand through his hair, the anger draining from his face, replaced by confusion and regret. “I... I can’t believe this. All this time, I thought I was protecting you from Beau, saving you from making a mistake.”

Clara steps forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Wyatt, I appreciate that you wanted to protect me. But Thomas is Beau’s son. And we need to figure this out together, as a family.”

Wyatt looks up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “I didn’t know, Clara. I swear, I didn’t know. I wasn’t on your side…”

I take a deep breath, feeling a tentative sense of hope. “Wyatt, this isn’t about sides. It’s about what’s best for Thomas. We need to put our differences aside and work together.”

He nods slowly, his eyes clouded with thought. “You’re right. This changes everything.”

Clara reaches out and places a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “We need to talk, all of us, properly at last. We need to figure out how to move forward.”

Wyatt nods again, more firmly this time. “You’re right. Let’s talk.”

We all sit down around the kitchen table, the tension in the air palpable but different now, tinged with the possibility of resolution. Thomas, still half asleep with no idea what’s going on around him, sits quietly in Clara’s lap, watching us.

Clara takes a deep breath, her voice steady. “Wyatt, I need you to understand that I never wanted to hurt anyone. I left because I was scared and confused. Because our uncle found out that I was pregnant and he wanted me to get an abortion. He didn’t support me, obviously, and I knew if I didn’t go, he’d try and turn you against me as well.”

“But… I would have supported you.”

“I wasn’t sure you would and wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. It was a complicated situation.”

---