You are mine, and I am yours (Gregory House)

Chapter 4

1972
The day before Greg's thirteenth birthday, he and Reilly walked to their favorite tomb.

"I'm telling him tomorrow after my party," Greg told her.

"He's going to do something horrible to you, Greg."

"What's he gonna do he hasn't already done?"

"I wish I'd never mentioned your stupid dimples." Reilly mumbled under her breath.

Greg heard her anyway. "I'd have figured it out anyway. I'm just as smart you are," he scoffed.

"Not according to our IQ tests." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"At least I'm not a girl," he countered.

"No, you just wish you were," she replied with a saucy grin.

His eyes narrowed and she took off running with him close on her heels.

XxXxXxXx

The next day, Reilly watched Greg closely during his birthday party. He closed his eyes and blew out the candles. Once the cake was sliced and passed around, Reilly sat next to Greg on one of the blankets spread out on the lawn.

"I know what you wished for," she told him after swallowing a bite of cake.

"Do not," he told her and wiped some frosting off her top lip. He sucked it off his finger and then took a bite of his own cake.

"You wished that Uncle John would leave when you tell him."

Greg concentrated on his cake.

"He probably won't and you'll get in trouble. The worst trouble ever. Please don't say anything."

Greg got up and joined a group of boys sitting on another blanket. Reilly sighed, got up and threw her cake in the trash. For the rest of the afternoon she ignored Greg and played with her sisters, Catriona and Eithne.

XxXxXxXx

After all the guests left and everything was cleared up, Blythe finished cooking dinner and came out of the kitchen to ask Greg to set the table.

"Sure, Mom. I'll do it in a minute," her son replied.

"Do it now like she commanded, son," John said dangerously.

Greg stood slowly and turned to face him. "I am not your son."

John stood up and Blythe came running from the kitchen.

"You are my son," John informed him.

"You were in Okinawa when I was conceived. You don't carry the gene for dimples. I wouldn't have them if I was your son. Your second toe is longer than your big toe. Mine isn't. Though you have blue eyes, Mom and some of your family don't. So, if I was your son, I'd have brown eyes. I don't. You are not my biological father."

All the color drained from John's face. He swallowed several times and then looked at Blythe. Tears streamed down her face. John walked past Blythe and her son to the front door. He opened it, walked out and quietly closed it behind him.

Greg turned to look at his mother. "I am not his son," he told her calmly before walking back to his room and closing the door.

Blythe stood in the living room sobbing. The day she feared finally came.

John returned several hours later. Blythe sat on the couch staring at nothing,

"I'd like my dinner now," he told her stiffly.

She jumped slightly then got up and pulled his plate out of the oven where she kept it warm for him. He ate in silence then got up and went to bed.

The remainder of the summer, he said nothing to Blythe about Greg or his paternity. Greg spent most of that summer in his room. When John had something to say to him, he typed it out and slid the paper under Greg's door.
When Greg returned to school, John treated him with a cool civility.