The boy heard a twig crack, and turned to see another boy standing behind the foliage, probably the same age as himself.
"Daddy?" the honey haired boy enquired. The man turned at the sound.
"Oh, it's you, Ian" he sighed, "Where's George?"
"He fell asleep. He's been up all night, you know", "He took Evelyn's death pretty hard."
Too late, he noticed his father's frantic actions, trying to shush him. Hesaw the other boy sitting with his father, and he instantly knew who he was.
"This is Kier, Ian" his father said heavily, "He's Evelyn's son."
"I know" Ian replied, "once I crept into Evelyn's room, and I saw a picture in the drawer of the dresser, and the boy looked just like him."
"She kept a picture of me?" the boy enquired, whispering, disbelieving.
"She kept many. My mom keeps many pictures of George and I too."
Someone yelled out Peter's name, and he got up, asking Ian to sit with the boy.
"So... where is your mother?" the boy asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"She's in the US. she left us, taking my sister Karen with her when George and I were two years old. It was something to do with Uncle Pierre. He's Dad's uncle" Ian replied, "He is very scary. He scared my mother so bad that she left."
"Does she come to see you?"
"Of course she does." Ian said emphatically, surprised at the question, "She's a corporate lawyer, you see, and comes to Paris for work at least twice a year. She always comes to see us for a day. Uncle Kurt threatens to throw her out, but she doesn't care anymore. Dad actually like it when she comes. Evelyn too."
The boy didn't reply, but one sentence resounded through his mind.
She never came to see me.