To Have

by M. L. Pennock

  “I wish. I wish it had been that simple, Stella. Emily had leukemia, was in remission for quite a while and then it came back when she was pregnant with Britton. That’s why she left, why she signed over her rights.” Tommy shoves his hands in his pants pockets, playing with a set a car keys in one and loose change in the other. The sound is obnoxious, but at least it isn’t silence. “I think she knew this time was the last time her body would be able to handle treatments and she didn’t want Brian to feel stuck or let Britt grow up watching her die. It’s sad to think about it, but she made the right decision leaving.”

  “So, why tell Brian?”

  Letters. Tommy says there’s one for me, too. She wrote me a letter.

  “I haven’t read them. She sent them in sealed envelopes and I promised her I wouldn’t snoop. When I got the package, I read the note she sent me and that’s it. The other letters were already in an envelope with Brian’s name on it so they went right into my dresser where I knew he wouldn’t find them.”

  He reaches up and pulls my hand away from my face, ending the little chew fest I’m having with my thumbnail.

  “I wasn’t done with that,” I whine.

  “You’re going to chew right down to the bone. You need to stop.”

  He’s holding my hand and staring at me like he has the answer to my unspoken question, so I find my resolve and ask. “Why is there a letter for me? Brian and I weren’t even together when she died. Tommy, he hadn’t even moved back up here at that point.”

  He sighs. A deep, strangled sound, like it’s been stuck in his lungs for far too long. “She knew someday Brian was going to do the fall in love and get married thing. Brian doing those things meant a woman in Britt’s life, too. I think it’s Emily’s way of saying she trusts you to raise her baby, because she couldn’t do it.” Tears threaten to break through, and when Tommy blinks, they begin coursing down his cheeks. “She might have made a poor choice not telling Brian what was going on, but in the end, she wanted nothing more than for him, for you, for Britt to know you all have her blessing to love as a family.”

  I wipe the tears from his face and whisper “thank you” as I pull him to me, and then I silently mouth it and pray somewhere Emily can hear me.

  I hug Tommy and let him cry into my shoulder until his tears dry up and our quiet moment of gratitude is shattered.

  “Uh, Stella?”

  I freeze at the sound of his questioning voice. This can’t be happening.

  On my wedding day.

  Nope. I’m going to keep hugging Tommy and ignore the fact I just heard my lying, cheating ex-husband’s voice say my name.

  So instead, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and count to ten.

  I’m on three when Tommy pokes me in the ribs and whispers in my ear, “Who’s the douche?”

  “The voice sounds like my ex-husband. Tall guy, dark hair?” I say quietly.

  “Yup. And he looks like a douche.” Unlike me, Tommy talks at his normal volume and I cringe slightly, pinching his arm and pulling out of his embrace.

  “What are you doing here, Keith?” I say as I turn to face him.

  I notice his eyes sweep down my body, and on the return visit to my face his gaze lands on my abdomen.

  “I ... I came by after stopping at your house and some lady there told me you were here and ... are you pregnant?” He stammers through the question. He never was a very good communicator. His eyes grow wider as he waits for the answer. “Is that a wedding dress? What the fuck is going on?”

  I look down at my belly, a smile lighting up my face, but notice out of the corner of my eye that Tommy’s flexing his hands and balling them up into fists. He’s got that “don’t mess with my sister” glare down pat and it’s aimed directly at my former husband. Reaching out my arm, I place a hand on his bicep as a gentle reminder to Tommy that I’m a big girl.

  “I don’t think you have a right to ask questions, Keith. Just so you don’t have to try to satisfy your curiosity elsewhere, though, yes. To the first two questions. As for your third question, you’re barging into my soon-to-be husband’s house on our wedding day and causing a scene,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. I look behind me and see both my parents, my sister, Caryn and Greg hovering at the kitchen doorway that leads onto the deck at the back of the house. I hold my hand out and continue, “See? A scene. I find it hard to believe you have the audacity to stand there with your accusatory glances and shameful of me expression when you’re the one who stepped out on our marriage. You got a girl pregnant while you were still married to me, remember? You can pretend to be the victim right now, because I can see you want to be the victim, and ask questions like you have a right to ask them, but I’m still not even sure why you’re here. Why are you here, Keith? Our marriage was over long before our divorce was final. We have nothing to say to one another. Ever again, actually.”

  I’ve kept my composure so long, my shoulders thrust back and standing up straight, I feel like my spine might crumble, but he walked into my house — my home, where I’m going to start my family — and I want answers.

  I hear his voice before I see him standing behind Keith in the doorway leading to the front of the house and my Kevlar-strong façade falls away as a grin takes over my face.

  “The lady asked you a question. Correct me if I’m wrong, but, my mama always taught me to speak when spoken to and that goes for being asked a question, as well,” Brian says, a sternness in his voice that relieves and terrifies me all at once.

  Keith turns his back to me and comes face-to-face with the man who had my heart long before he did, the man who will have it long after this blip on our happiness radar.

  “You? She’s marrying you?” he scoffs. “Aren’t you the coffeehouse guy? I saw her with you at the mall. That’s classic. Stella the workaholic marrying a barista. It’s like a damn fairy tale.” His snide laugh twists the knife he put in my heart so many months ago.

  I’ve seen Keith like this before. He thinks he’s going to be able to talk down to Brian, as though the money in his safe is worth more than everything Brian and I have invested in one another. I wasn’t aware our successes were measured by the padding in our bank accounts, the fancy clothes in our closets. If that’s the case, Keith may win every time, but the reality of the situation is money doesn’t make a man a real man.

  “I may make coffee for a living, but I got the girl.” His smile lights up the room, my heart, my soul. His smile ... is everything. “She’s mine. I want you out of my house before I call my buddy, Max. Not sure if you’ve met him, but like me he provides a service for his living. His comes with handcuffs.”

  Keith turns on his heels and faces me again. “You’d let him have me arrested?” he asks, his tone incredulous, as though he doesn’t believe I’d give Brian my approval to make the call. As though I owe him something.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve been asked to leave. Now ... you’re trespassing, Keith.” I try to hide my smile.

  “The baby isn’t mine. She lied to me.” He blurts it out like it will make all the difference and fear seeps into his features, the stoic mightier-than-thou demeanor evaporated. “Beth left me. I wanted to ask you if I can buy the house back. I have nowhere to go. I’m desperate.”

  I hear Steph gasp behind me. She and Tommy have already signed a rental agreement with me. They’re roommates as of yesterday. I’m sure her reaction is an attempt to quiet her disgust.

  “The house isn’t for sale,” I say, matter-of-fact, as I tamp down the desire to hurt for him, for the lies she told him. I remind myself, she isn’t the only liar; he lied to me. He hurt me. My anger flares. “You made your bed. Go lay down in it, Keith. You have no business here.”

  His mouth opens, then closes, and opens again.

  “Get the fuck out of my house,” Brian says from behind him. “And if you bother my wife again, I will have you arrested for harassment.”

  Keith turns his head and stares at Brian, who’s leaning his shoulde
r against the doorframe, his ankles crossed and hands in the pockets of his tuxedo pants. He looks like a modern day nerdy James Bond with his perfectly messy blonde hair and black frame glasses.

  He takes a step backward toward the door Brian’s standing in and, dropping his head, Keith says quietly to me, “If you change your mind about the house, call me. Please?”

  “Won’t be happening any time soon, Keith. You may as well just look elsewhere,” I say and turn away from him, walking swiftly to the bathroom and, closing the door behind me, I close the door on that chapter of my life.

  I hear the front door slam. I hear the voices in the kitchen — a collection of “What the fuck was that?” and “He’s lost his damn mind” — and feel the anxiety release me, the tightness in my chest loosen its hold.

  I count to ten.

  I count to ten again.

  I give up and just count until I feel better.

  Brian

  Chapter Forty

  All I wanted to do today was get married.

  Instead, I find out my son’s birth mother was sick when she left us. I find out she died, making it impossible for Britt to ever know her now.

  I read the letter Emily left for me, and I peacefully understand her reasons, but it doesn’t change the fact she hid the truth from me.

  Emotionally, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and headed back to Stella’s house to finish getting ready for the wedding I’ve been waiting my entire life for.

  It was easy to change gears from the sadness I felt learning what Emily had been through to the joy of making my marriage to Stella official.

  It was easy to get lost in the moment of standing in Stella’s bedroom where I know we created the life she’s carrying.

  It was easy to ignore the doorbell when it rang because I knew Mama and Britt were both downstairs waiting for me so we could head the few blocks to my house. I knew Mama would answer it and whatever was needed from whoever was on the other side, she would take care of it.

  I don’t blame my mother for what I walked in on at my house. I just wish she’d called me downstairs so I could have taken care of it before it got to the point it did — before Keith even had a chance to finish asking Mama what the address was.

  As Stella walks off toward the bathroom, Keith tucks his tail between his legs and heads out the front door of our house. I rub my hands over my face and look between them at my mama standing with Britt next to the front door.

  She jumps as Keith slams the door on his way out.

  “I should have just had him arrested,” I mutter to myself.

  Chaos takes over the kitchen, a slew of “fucks” flying out of every mouth in there, and I watch Mama cover Britt’s ears at the first cuss word she hears.

  “That was Stella’s ex,” she says more than asks.

  “Yes, ma’am. That was him.” I clasp my fingers together behind my head and lean back against the doorframe again, this time facing the front of the house and my mother instead of the back. “He’s a real ... let’s just say he’s the type of man you’d probably say ‘oh, bless his heart’ about if I told you too much about him, Mama. He did a real number on Stell.”

  “I gathered as much, Brian, but no point being kind about a boy like that,” she says. Looking down at her hands still covering my son’s ears, she candidly continues, “If he hurt Stella I’d probably just call him an asshole to his face. He’s not worth a ‘bless your heart.’”

  I smile at her — a smile that reaches my eyes for the first time all day — and let out a deep laugh because ... she’s Mama and damn if she doesn’t just cut to the core of things. In the midst of my laughter, she lets go of Britt’s head and I catch him looking from her to me and back again, confusion crumpling his beautiful face.

  “Hey, buddy, why don’t you go check and make sure Grandpa doesn’t need any help in the workshop,” I say as he walks over and wraps his arms around my waist. I kneel down to his level and, putting my hands on his small but broad shoulders say, “We’re getting married to the girl of our dreams today, Britton. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?”

  “A real long time,” he says. I hear the question in his voice, but it’s only slight. Hardly noticeable.

  “Yeah. A real long time. Since I was around your age. That’s how long I’ve been in love with Stella.” He smiles, a shot going straight to my heart when I see parts of his mother in him I hadn’t noticed before and I feel conflicted. My love for Stella is unwavering; my love for Emily, because she gave me our son, is enough to cause a lump to form in my throat when I realize it’s her nose Britt has, her chin.

  “Did you love mommy?”

  I blink, caught off guard by the question and feeling the smile on my face fall a little. He’s rarely asked about Emily. It’s always been us boys and Mama, and while I’ve talked about his mom, we’ve never had in depth conversations about the feelings that went into our relationship.

  The answer, though, is simple. It’s simple because I’ve been admitting it to myself all day, and now it’s time to share that with him.

  “Absolutely I loved her. I don’t think I loved her like I love Stella, but she gave me you, the chance to be your daddy, and I will love her forever because of that.” I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes as Britt and I somehow change roles and I find myself being held by my child on my wedding day as he comforts me in the wake of a pain I will someday soon have to explain to him.

  But not today.

  “Good. Because she told me she loved you, too,” he says, a smile lifting his lips as he leans in and kisses me on the forehead before running out of the room calling for Whiskey.

  “Mama. What just happened?” I’m still kneeling on the floor, frozen in place, when I feel a draft pushing cold air through the room and shiver.

  And she laughs at me. I raise my eyes and see her openly laughing at me.

  “Oh, Brian, you have so much yet to learn about children. You just wait until this next baby is born. I bet there’ll be more drafts in this house than you thought possible.” The smile is glued to her face. I shake my head, not understanding. “If I hadn’t had the chance to know Stella’s grandmother, I would think that child is talking gibberish. But that’s not the case. I did know Nana Barbieri and she was a very, very wise woman.”

  “You’re talking about how she always knew things, aren’t you?”

  “She had a gift, Brian,” she responds, her voice gone stern. It’s her lecturing tone. “She swore up and down that children have it, too, but because of the close minded people doing the raising, they forget they know the dead. They forget how to talk to them and start shutting them out. That child, he’s just that. Britt is a child and he’s still pure and open minded.”

  “Mama, you’re not saying ...”

  “I’m saying, keep an open mind where your children are concerned, Brian. Keep an open mind where your wife is concerned. She’s cut from the same cloth.”

  “The same cloth?”

  “Oh the things you’ve tucked away in your memory, locked them away,” she clucks at me. I actually hear the tsk tsk she sneaks in. “Think about all those times you two almost or could have gotten in trouble. What stopped you from going down certain paths in the woods? That time you almost fell through the ice on the pond. What saved your ass, Brian?”

  I think back to when we were little. It was always Stella. She’d tell me we couldn’t ride our bikes down a certain road and I wouldn’t question it because she just knew a better way.

  “She grabbed my jacket and pulled me back,” I say thinking back to that day. We’d been playing on the ice covered pond in a neighbor’s horse pasture. I hadn’t paid attention to the fact we’d had a day of warmer temperatures. I hadn’t paid attention to much of anything other than impressing Stella. “I’d walked out onto the pond and she followed me. Before I knew what was happening she was pulling me backwards and running.”

  “Had you even heard the ice start to crack?”


  “No. We got back to solid ground and I remember wondering what had gotten into her ... and then I heard the pop and the center of the ice split wide open. Right where I’d been standing.”

  My eyes are on Mama, but she’s smiling and watching something behind me.

  “You okay, Bri?”

  At the sound of Stella’s voice, I turn.

  “You saved me.” She did. She saved my life more than once.

  “Once or twice,” she says shyly, lacing her fingers together beneath her belly, atop the white satin of her simple and beautiful gown. “It was a long time ago. So, Britt and I just had an interesting chat about his mom and now I’ve walked in on this, so I’m assuming we’re all on the same page.”

  “Which page is that, sweetie?” Mama asks.

  “The page where we don’t dismiss our son’s friends, imaginary or otherwise. I don’t want to be one of those closed minded people Nana always warned me about,” she says, lowering her voice like she’s afraid someone might actually think she’s less than open minded. Mama and I both nod. “Okay, now that that’s settled, let’s go get hitched. This day has been exciting enough already, don’t you think?”

  Mama walks toward the kitchen, stopping to lay a hand on Stella’s belly and pull her in for a quick hug before disappearing through the doorway. I smile when I hear her shooing outside anyone still standing around and telling Tommy not to argue with her.

  When I’m certain we’re alone, I speak up. I have trouble letting sleeping dogs lie. “Stella, your grandmother, she could see things?”

  Taking a deep breath, Stella grabs my hand and pulls me to the living room. Pushing me down on the couch, she sits in front of me on the coffee table — a few months ago this is where we discovered together that we were going to be parents and I get a sudden feeling we’re on the cusp of something amazing being back in this place.

  “Absolutely she could see things. Daddy likes to play the skeptic sometimes, but he grew up with her and he knows better than me how much she could see. When I was younger, she told me things that tore away at old wounds, things that brought feelings back to the surface that I had buried when you left. Feelings I think I buried along with that open mindedness she adored so much.” I watch her take a shuddering breath. “After your family moved I was devastated, Brian. I was still a little girl, but I had understood something about life that was so much bigger than us. When you left, I stopped understanding all of those things and focused on hating that you were gone. We could write, we called once in a while, but for the most part I felt like half of me was missing. You were missing.”