Happy Ever Never

by Brittany Holland

  I shouldn’t have invaded her space like that, but I couldn’t walk away from her siren’s call. It’s always been her for me. And now that she’s back, and we’re in this place...it’s stirring up all kinds of emotions.

  Trying to keep my mind and my body in line, I take in the lovely table setting, tapered candles, the fresh bouquet, Wendy’s best silver and the good dishes...a fancy set up for Sunday dinner. Then I notice the table is only set for three.

  Anna comes bustling out of the kitchen, carrying a tray, placing it on the table.

  “Dinner is served,” she announces fairly dramatically.

  “Anna, so wonderful to see you!” I rise from my chair to give her a hug. The years have been kind to her with barely any grey showing even though she could be my grandmother.

  “Piers, my sweet boy! It’s been too long.” She holds me briefly before pulling back. “My, my, you certainly have bulked up. No wonder Willow can’t keep her eyes off you, lad.”

  My own widen in shock, and I look over to see Willow about to crawl under the table. At least I know I’m not alone in this.

  Sitting back down, I start to help Anna uncover the dishes. “Now, now. You just keep your hands back. I’ll do this.” She shoos me away.

  “You’re not joining us?” Willow asks, sounding almost disappointed.

  “Not tonight. Mr. Roderick and I already had our supper. We’re just finishing up in the kitchen.” She starts to excuse herself before adding, “And we’ll be taking a walk later, seeing what supplies are needed and making the shops list. So, you’ll have the house to yourselves for a bit.”

  “Did she just wink?” I ask Willow, who is staring after Ms. Anna in shock.

  She smiles and shrugs. “Wonder what has gotten into her lately?”

  “Glad to have you home, I suppose,” I offer as we pass the dishes and fill our plates with a heavenly smelling Shepherd’s pie, fresh greens from the gardens and bread.

  “That I am,” Anna calls from the kitchen. “Bread pudding is on the counter.”

  Willow shakes her head in amusement as she rises to help Drew with his food. I watch as she mothers over him, and there’s not a doubt in my mind, she’s an incredible mum. Selfless, brave, kind...strong.

  “Time for the blessing,” she announces, and Drew clears his throat and places his palms together. Seeing Willow has done the same, I follow suit.

  “God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food. By His hands we all are fed, thank you for our daily bread,” he prays. “Amen.”

  “Amen,” Willow and I, reply in unison.

  “And God Save the Queen!” Drew chants, causing Willow to choke on the water she was drinking.

  Laughter rumbles low in my belly, and I can’t help belting out my amusement.

  “Drew!” She scolds, “Mind your manners.”

  “Mother, we are in England; this is the Queen’s country. I was only showing respect,” he argues.

  She looks at me as if to say, I have no idea...I bet he is a handful.

  I think of all the other dinners I missed and struggle to remind myself to stay in the now. It’s what I asked of Willow. But I’m enjoying it so much, hanging on every word he says.

  I don’t want to miss any more of this. Ever.

  “Have you ever met the Queen?” Drew asks me curiously while gobbling his Shepherd’s pie.

  “No, I’m afraid not,” I tell him. “But I’ve been to Buckingham Palace. Would you like to go there and see it sometime? See the guards?”

  I quickly look to Willow, not wanting to overstep any lines. I find she’s smiling at me and nodding.

  I was afraid she would hold Drew so tight I’d have to fight for a little time with him. But I can see now that she’s willing to share. There’s no need for threats. Remembering some of the things I said to her that day, I’m ashamed of the way I behaved at her house, treating this like a business merger.

  “Yes! Of course!” Drew exclaims. “They have the tall hats. I’ve seen them in pictures and books from Aunty Wen,” he goes on, never missing a beat, eating his food quickly.

  The mention of Wendy has left both Willow and me quiet, lost in thought. I haven’t heard anyone call her Aunty Wen for ages, since Willow was a girl in fact.

  Drew takes up the silence, telling me all he knows about London, the red buses, Big Ben, Tower Bridge, the Queen, pirate filled pubs. The food and the culture. I fill in a few blanks. It seems Willow has done an outstanding job of showing him where he comes from. Whether he knows it or not.

  “I’m not eating black pudding!” he throws out, and I get him laughing by making gagging faces, Willow joins in the laughter, and it takes my breath away.

  “You seem to know a lot about London, Piers.”

  Drew draws my attention back to him. “But you don’t say all the funny words like Aunty Wen did?”

  Willow nods, adding, “I was also a little curious that your accent seems a little more...polished. I mean I get mine changing. I was originally from the states and then between school and going back...” her voice drops off, and she hesitates. When she went back...when she left.

  I reply, trying to put her at ease, “Well, I traveled a great deal for work. All over the world. My accent still had that bit of brogue in it. No matter how hard Wendy tried to refine me, it was pretty thick. So when I started traveling for business, I worked on having a more westernized accent to blend better.”

  “That makes sense.” She smiles and leans over to remind Drew to use his napkin. “Did you ever have business in the states?”

  “Several times in New York, once in Chicago, and a handful of times in Seattle. All really cool places.” She nods thoughtfully, and I think how when I was in New York, I never dreamed she was just a short distance north.

  “Wow! You’ve been all over!” Drew lifts his head before putting it back down, all but licking his plate clean. I notice neither Willow nor I have barely touched our food.

  Digging in, I let Drew tell me about all the places he visited in the US, mostly east coast, and all the places he still wants to go.

  He excuses himself to put his plate away. Such wonderful manners. I’m very proud although know I can take no responsibility. Another reminder of what I missed.

  The food is mouthwatering, the rich smell, the hearty taste. “This is the best. I forgot how much I love Anna’s Shepherd’s pie! One of the best I’ve ever had!”

  “Indeed it is.” She eats a few more bites before adding, “I would have thought, being the successful man you are, that you would have had a cook or keeper of your own by now. Or went out on the town, dining at the finest places.”

  “Well—actually...” I start, but how do I explain, my flat isn’t a home? It’s a place I pack and repack my bag. It’s a glorified storage bunker.

  “Oh, God. Piers, I’m sorry.” Her fork clatters to her plate, her expression horrified. “You must think me terribly rude. That came out all wrong.”

  “Willow, I do have a keeper but no cook. There’s really no need, since—”

  Her eyes go wide, and she cuts me off. “Oh, of course.” She shakes her head. “It never occurred to me that you didn’t live alone. Or have a roommate or, uhhh...I mean girlfriend.” She stands to take her plate, reaching for mine. “It’s none of my business.”

  I cover her hand with mine. “Willow, relax. There’s no one. I’m just not home enough to need a full time cook.”

  She nods and refuses to make eye contact. Her ivory skin flushes red. “Oh, okay.”

  I release her hand, not wanting to make her even more uncomfortable. “Here let me help,” I offer, taking her plate with my own.

  “I better check on Drew. I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s getting into the dessert.” I follow her into the kitchen...I would follow her anywhere.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  WILLOW

  Kill me now! Of all the inappropriate and intrusive things to say. Not to mention, I’m making myself look like a drooli
ng school girl.

  It seems I can’t control my tongue when he’s around. Now there’s an idea.

  “Just as I suspected,” I scold Drew as we enter the kitchen and find him with a chair scooted up next to the counter, sampling the bread pudding.

  “All the best chefs sample the goods before serving them to guests, Mum, right?” He waves the spoon as he talks, flinging little bits of pudding everywhere.

  Looking over my shoulder, I see that Piers has his hand over his mouth, trying to contain a laugh.

  “Uh, well, that may be true...but you’re not the chef. Anna made this,” I remind him while helping him down.

  “Here. Let me scoop you some in a dish,” I offer, handing Drew a towel to wipe his hands.

  “That’s okay. I already ate my share.” He grins proudly.

  “Well, would you like seconds?” Piers asks.

  “Nah, that’s okay,” he replies. “Wanna see my room?” Drew excitedly tugs on Piers’ arm?

  “I’d love to. How would you like to fly there?” I hear him whisper to Drew.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” He squeals with delight as Piers instructs him how to hold out his arms in front of him, and Drew does exactly what he says. “Think happy thoughts, and away we gooooooooo!” He lifts Drew in his arms and carries him out of the kitchen.

  “I’ll be right up. Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” I call after them, smiling to myself as I clear up our mess and put the kettle on for tea before dishing up some dessert for Piers and myself.

  I could get used to that. Not just a second set of hands when it comes to Drew. But seeing how natural Piers is with him, it makes me want to see more of them as father and son. See them laughing and smiling. Watching them hug. Sneaking dessert. Flying to bed. Building bridges and forts. All of those things.

  When the kettle whistles, I add it and a couple teacups to the tray and make my way down the hall. Dessert in the study will be nice and give us a chance to talk.

  The vintage tray rattles, and the teacups clink as I walk quickly, not wanting to miss out on any more of seeing Piers with Drew. Being back in the house, having Piers here, it’s like time has frozen, and I’m a kid again.

  Placing the tray in the library, I arrange it nicely on the coffee table. Turning, I catch my reflection in an aged mirror. A bit of a mess, but I look happy. I am happy.

  I set off in search of father and son, following the sound of laughter. Happiness.

  §

  PIERS

  “Think happy thoughts!” We chant in unison as I carry Drew through the house and up the stairs.

  “Which way captain?” I ask in my best pirate voice.

  “Second door to the right, just like at home!” he orders in a fit of giggles! “Happy thoughts! Happy thoughts!”

  And I’m stunned. Second. Door. To. The. Right.

  My old room. His wiggling and chanting reminds me to keep moving. And I do, until I’m standing in front of the door to the room that I grew up in.

  “This is it mate!” He hops down as I bend to lower him. “Check it out! It’s the coolest room. I think you’re really gonna like it.”

  I hold my breath as he opens the door. It’s like stepping back in time. Even though it’s only been a few years, I’m suddenly transported back when I see the navy and white striped, papered walls and the heavy tapestry drapes covered with pirate ships. Hunter green, white and navy plaid duvet covers and dark wood twin beds, a small desk, and a worn dresser.

  Following him into the room, I see the old steamer trunk is still at the foot of the bed I once slept in. The porthole mirror is still above the dresser. And the window seat is still nestled under the window where Teddy and I spent hours watching out that window on an old brass telescope Wendy bought us. Looking out for pirates. Watching for our parents. Gazing at stars. Dreaming of a family.

  Piers, hurry. Look. It’s a dark car. “Maybe it’s your dad?” Teddy calls me to the window, and I drop the ball I’m bouncing to run and look out. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, but it’s been two years since Wendy said he passed away. And I believe her. Even if I didn’t, I would believe the tears I heard her cry for him in the garden.

  It seemed to make Mr. James angry. Why would he be so angry at her for crying because my dad died? I didn’t understand.

  Then I overheard Ms. Anna saying it’s because my dad, Peter, was Wendy’s great true love. And when he died, it broke her heart.

  Well, I’m sure sorry she had her heart broken. And I’m even more sorry it made Mr. James so angry because he’s angry enough. I’m glad he stays at his flat in the city most of the time.

  But I’m not sorry that she loved him. Because if she loved him, then maybe she will keep loving me, the pieces of me that are my dad anyway. Maybe she can be my mum since mine never wanted me.

  It’s not my dad, but I wish he could send me a sign. I’m tired of getting my hopes up that he will return.

  Watching, I see a nice dressed man and woman standing beside the dark car, then the back door opens, and out steps the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She’s got copper red hair. She’s wearing the most beautiful dress, so pale blue it’s almost white. It’s like she’s an angel. “Maybe my dad sent her to be my family.”

  I must have said that last part out loud because Teddy whispers back, “It looks like she already has a family.”

  “Then she will be my friend,” I proclaim, and as if by some strange miracle she heard me, she looks up to the window and smiles.

  “What are you idiots doing, practically hanging out the window? You trying to fall to your deaths?” Scarlett comes bounding into the room.

  “Scarlett, when will you learn to knock?” Teddy stands and asks nervously, pushing his tortoise frames up his pudgy nose. “I know you think you’re a boy, but next time, knock.”

  “Oh, bugger off, Teddy Bear. No one is trying to see your little winkle dinkle. Plus, you keep forgetting, I am one of the boys.” Scarlett shoulders past him and comes to sit next to me at the window.

  “Who’s the princess?” she asks with a funny look on her face.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” I let slip, slightly embarrassed.

  “Yeah if you’re into hair the color of carrots and frilly dresses.” She mocks me, while tugging on her own whitish blond hair that’s almost shorter than mine.

  “Well, maybe I am,” I fire back, angry at her for making fun of my new friend, even though we’re still technically strangers.

  “Suit yourself. I’ll be in the fort if you need me.” She takes off.

  “What’s gotten into her?” I ask Teddy.

  He just shrugs. “Who knows?”

  “Piers, did you hear me?” Drew’s voice breaks through my foggy mind.

  “Yes, Drew. Sorry. I was remembering,” I try to explain and I walk to the window.

  “It’s okay. My mum does that a lot too since we’ve been here,” he tells me as he goes to grab some clean pajamas from the dresser.

  I stay facing the window while he changes, reminding myself I’m still a stranger to him in so many ways.

  “This was my room,” I tell him, my voice thick with emotion.

  “I know,” he says, matter of fact.

  I turn back around when I hear him jump into bed.

  “That’s why I picked it,” he tells me, and again, I’m left speechless. Good thing he’s never at a loss for words. “And because it has the best view to the front of the house with the really cool window. With a window seat. Which also reminded me of home. Well my old home, mum keeps calling this home, so I’m thinking maybe this is our new home. But there’s a telescope and a port mirror. A very pirate room, don’t you think?”

  “For sure a pirate room,” I agree. “I’m so glad you picked this one.”

  Willow comes in just as we’re starting his bedtime story. It’s one of her books, per Drew’s instruction. I had done some research on her, but had yet to get my hands on one.

  Exquisite quality,
brilliant story and her artwork is unlike anything I’ve seen before. The ink almost looks wet on the page, I have to touch it to be sure. She blushes at my high praise.

  We narrate the story together for Drew until he dozes off. Pirates, fairies, a garden and the prince of the lost boys. It seems she did find the adventure she was looking for, and she saved our greatest stories and made them into a priceless work of art to be shared with the world. To plant seeds of dreams in young imaginative minds.

  She checks the lock on the window and pulls the shades before dimming his bedside lamp, adjusting his covers once more and giving him one last kiss. She closes his door quietly behind us, leaving it open just a crack, smiling softly at me.

  “I’m sure you think me to be overbearing, or obsessive?” I hate that she thinks I would question her abilities as a mum, regardless of how overprotective they may seem.

  “I think you’re an incredible, devoted mother, and there is nothing wrong with showering him with affection or doing everything in your ability to make him safe and secure. Never doubt yourself, never.”

  “It’s kind of you to say.” She blushes and walks down the stairs.

  “I didn’t say it to be kind.” I follow after her.

  “He’s lucky to have you,” I add when we reach the landing, and she’s once again looking at me.

  “He’s lucky to have you too. I’m just sorry—”

  “No more apologies.” I stop her, and she nods at me.

  “I set our dessert in the study. I thought it would be more intimate.” Her eyes widen, and I bite my lip to hold in a chuckle. “Not that— oh God. Not that I want to be intimate. With you. I mean not that I don’t want to be intimate, with you.” She stops walking and puts her face in her hands.

  “Wow. Uh, thanks. I think.” I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in.

  She groans in embarrassment, but the sound does things to me it shouldn’t. I’m trying to be civil...okay, we’re way past civil. Respectful. She is the mother of my child. But I am a man. And she’s a woman. A very beautiful woman.