I watch her curiously. I don’t dare interrupt; I know the answers are coming.
The vein in her neck is pulsating rapidly as she wrings her hands together, wrestling with what she has to say to me.
“When I was seventeen, Stephie and I had a conversation with her. It was one of our normal heart to heart talks. We had them all the time. But something about this one was different. She basically told me despite how I thought I felt about Keith, you’d come back. I didn’t want to believe her. I was a kid still. Shit, I was a kid still nursing the broken heart left in your wake. I couldn’t believe her.” She pauses. I hand her the handkerchief in my pocket and watch her dab her eyes, careful not to ruin her makeup. “But then, there you were, years later. And there I was standing in the rain. And I believed in fate again. ... I believed in her again.”
“I was made for you, Stella. I was handpicked from the stars, just for you,” I say quietly and hear her gasp at the sound of her grandmother’s words being repeated back to her.
“I can hear her voice saying it,” she says through the fingers covering her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed, the long lashes dusting her cheekbones. “But how did you know?”
“She told me, too. Before we moved. I had just walked out of your parents’ house for what I feared would be the last time. She was sitting on the porch and said to me, ‘Young man, we need to talk.’” I feel the tips of my ears burning. I’d never thought twice about what she’d said to me all those years ago, but now? It felt like putting the last piece of a puzzle in place. “We just fit together, Stell. We always have. It doesn’t matter what your past is, it doesn’t matter who gave birth to Britt, it doesn’t matter if we live in this house or that one or a God forsaken cardboard box. We. Fit. Together.”
Stella opens her eyes and looks into mine and I see nothing but love shining through.
“We do.” Her eyes grow wide. “I do. Oh my God, Brian, we’re getting married today. Why are we sitting in here talking about this when we’re —” her head whips around to look at the clock on the wall “— officially late for our own wedding. We’re late for our own wedding and it’s in the backyard.”
She grabs my hand and, laughing, we run through the house.
Stella
Chapter Forty-One
Dad takes my arm and wraps it around his while I still have my eyes closed. Today has been filled with highs and lows, and it’s barely 2 p.m.
But it’s been filled nonetheless.
With family. With their voices and their words and their love.
With friends. With their hearts and minds and kindness.
With hurt and happiness, memories and the ability to make memories.
Now I stand here on the cusp of our new beginning, at the edge of the doorway to Brian’s workshop-turned-church and reception hall. He’s over there waiting for me.
Still, I can’t seem to open my eyes for fear this ... all of this ... is a dream.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Stell.”
“This is real right? He’s really here and I’m really marrying him, right?”
I feel him shift next to me and then a hand on my face. “Stella, open your eyes.” I do. “He’s here, and he’s waiting for you. It’s time.”
And it is.
Stephanie
Epilogue
I have a sister and in one fell swoop have acquired a brother, his brother, and a nephew.
I keep waiting for my Prince Charming to show up, but he won’t. I don’t plan on him arriving anytime soon.
This is not my fairy tale. It’s Stella’s, and she’s deserved every damn moment of it.
It’s not my turn.
So here I sit, in my sister’s new home at her new-to-her dining room table in my new bridesmaid’s dress drinking wine and dulling the ache in my leg, the ache in my heart. I’m trying to fill the void in my soul.
“Is this seat taken?”
My hair falls around my shoulders as I tip my head back to look at Tommy. My new brother-in-law’s brother. My new roommate. The un-love of my life.
“Whatever, dude.” I let my eyes roll back, wishing a little that I could disappear. “It’s your brother’s house. You can sit wherever you like.”
He looks at me suspiciously before pulling the chair out and sliding into the seat. He reaches out and touches my hair, the soft curls long gone from an afternoon of mingling with Brian and Stella’s guests.
Despite the small list of family and friends attending, the party has gone well into the evening and if I were to wander out to the workshop I’m sure there are still stragglers hanging out — like my parents, Brian and Tommy’s parents, and probably the local police chief and his wife.
Because ‘round here, we’re all family.
I’m sure no one has put Britt and Whiskey to bed, either, because I can hear them running around upstairs. The click-clack of that pup’s nails might have me on edge if it weren’t for Tommy’s fingers working wonders.
He keeps touching my hair and it’s made me sleepy. He needs to stop.
“Stephie, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were enjoying yourself,” Tommy says, his voice quiet and rough from a night of singing along with the music and talking to everyone. I don’t think I saw him sit and be quiet once all evening. Damn social butterfly. “If you weren’t practically my sister I’d think it was kind of hot.”
“And you, Thomas, are a pig. I should tell your mother on you. She’d have a conniption and you know it. Besides, hitting on the bride’s sister? Isn’t that beneath even you?”
I like to pick on Tommy. He’s a couple years older than me, but he’s easy to get riled up. I like to keep the men in my life on their toes, even the ones who won’t ever be a relationship prospect.
“If you’re getting drunk tonight, you need to let me know. I don’t want you trying to take advantage of me.”
The “picking on” goes both ways, obviously.
“Yes, Mom. Doubt I’m going to get drunk. It’s pure exhaustion leading the charge tonight, though, so you may still have to carry me to bed. Promise, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” I lift my head back up, pulling my hair from his reach, and turn to face him. “When’s it going to be my turn?”
I hate the pity in his eyes, and despite the fact he pulls his reaction back as quickly as it surfaced ... I still saw it. He thinks I’m a sad human. His face, for a moment says, “let’s all feel bad for Stephanie. She’s had a tough time.” I hate it.
“I thought you were hell bent on finishing school, finding your way, figuring yourself out,” he says, because he knows. I am determined to finish school. One semester off to heal and prioritize was enough to make me realize I’ve worked too long and too hard to give up. If I don’t go back and complete this last semester and my research project so I can get my degree, I’ll have gone through all of this for nothing.
Tommy knows better than most how I’ve been feeling. That’s what being roommates does to you. You get to know each other; you get inside their head. This is just a slip, a shift in my armor that I need to put back in place. His voice is softer when he says, “What happened to Super Feminist Steph? The girl I found curled up on the couch the other night claiming ‘I don’t need a man to complete me’?”
I glide the tip of my index finger along the rim of my wine glass while I consider his questions. What did happen to her? In the last year she went from lonely to feeling loved to abused to stalked and attacked. And now? “She’s lonely again, Tommy. She’s scared of men and afraid of the dark, but lonely.”
“I’m here, princess. You don’t need to be afraid of the dark. I’ll be just down the hall. You don’t have to be afraid of men. Brian and Greg and I will be sure to scare them all away until you tell us to stop,” he says, reaching out to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You’re family. We aren’t going to let anyone hurt you again.”
I lift my eyes to watch his as I say, “But what about my heart? What if that gets hurt? You can�
�t protect me from that.”
He’s quiet. Contemplative. Protective.
“We can try, though.”
Something catches his attention, and I hardly realize Tommy’s getting up and leaving the room before I hear his voice.
Max’s voice.
“Steph?” he says from across the room as he watches Tommy get up and walk away. “Do you need a ride home?”
I do, but I don’t make a move. I just stare at him and wonder ... what if I do?
The clock on the wall ticks. The little boy plays. The puppy yips. Laughter escapes from the kitchen.
A peacefulness winds its way through my sister’s home, its heaviness settling in as life silently prepares us all for what’s to come.
The end
Acknowledgments
I’d like to tell you I spent months mapping out this book, having pages and pages of character developments, but that would be a huge lie. I have some handwritten notes in a legal pad. There are a ton of electronic notes in Evernote. This book has been a lot of flying by the seat of my pants. It’s 93,000-ish words of, “I wonder what Brian’s going to tell me he wants to talk about tonight?” Stella spoke to me through her anger at the situations I put her in, as well as the moments where I made her smile and laugh.
While this may be a work of fiction, it’s all from my heart ... even the hardest parts. We learn nothing of ourselves unless we are removed from our comfort zones. Step outside yours. You just might find strength where before you only saw weakness.
My husband, Ron, has shamelessly listened to my rambling about fictional people for more than a year while working on this project and hasn’t presented me with divorce papers, so he deserves many thanks. He suffered right along with me as I was writing some of these chapters, but ultimately it’s been his love that gave me the courage to follow through. This has been a scary process.
This book would never have been completed without the support of my friend, Jen Krider. She worked with me in multiple capacities, from reading every possible version of the first draft to helping me choose which cover I really wanted since I couldn’t possibly use them all. Thank you for reminding me when things got tough who I shouldn’t let in my head and for helping me turn some of my less developed ideas into pieces of the most beautiful prose in the book.
Trista Ward, Melanie Maheu, and Sandi Sullivan — I don’t know if I can ever say thank you enough for beta reading this beast for me. I’m so happy to have been able to share early copies of this story with you. Your love for these characters is endearing and gives me hope others will fall in love with them as you did.
Amanda Crans-Gentile — You are an amazing visionary and artist. The cover you created pulls the entire story together. I hope readers will be able to jump right into downtown Brockport along with the characters because of your keen eye for detail and ability to conceptualize and realize.
I want to also thank my parents, Kathy and Rich Vagg, and my sister, Krissie, for giving me room to play and create when I was a child, not getting mad at me when I wrote on my bedroom walls as a teenager, and not even batting an eyelash when I decided veterinary medicine would take a backseat to an English degree. This is a project that has been in the works for decades when we really think about it. I wouldn’t have achieved all I have without your love, encouragement, and discipline ... because, let’s be real, I’m a handful.
About the Author
Miranda L. Pennock was born and raised in Western New York. She attended Alfred University where she graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English and communication studies and went on to earn her Master of Arts in communications from SUNY College at Brockport.
After a handful of years working as a reporter and editor in the newspaper industry, Miranda left the news world to care for her children and begin working on creative writing projects.
Miranda and her husband live in Central New York with their two daughters and black lab.
This is her debut novel.
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