The Good Father

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I don’t want your house.”

  “Yes, you do. You love it here. The backyard.” The way he blurted the words made him sound like a petulant child.

  “Brett, you are not giving me your house.”

  “You can’t really do anything about it,” he said. The idea was brand new to him. But he was warming to it. “I mean, you could choose to sell it after I gift it to you, I guess...”

  And she’d have enough money from the sale to buy whatever she needed. But if she didn’t sell it—she’d be living in a place designed for peace.

  “There are four unused bedrooms upstairs. You can design the nursery however you want. Or use my downstairs office for the baby and have an office upstairs if you want to. And a couple guest bedrooms. For when Chloe and Jeff come to stay with you.”

  He felt as if he was in a boardroom. Selling what he believed in. “The baby’s mine, too, El,” he said, calming now. He’d found a solution to the problem of what he could do to participate. To help her. “Let me give you what you want. Let me make you happy. Let me provide for my child.”

  He had a way to make her happy. To give her the beauty she needed in her life.

  Like Jeff, he was bringing his small family home.

  “Where will you live?”

  “In your apartment until I can find another place. I’m gone most of the time anyway.” He was making things up as he went, but it all made sense.

  He was giving up his space. His lifeline.

  To her. Their child.

  And it was right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  ON MONDAY, ELLA’S day off, she was in a big-box store, buying moving boxes. In their conversation the night before, Brett had indicated that she could move as soon as she was ready, and so she was getting ready. She didn’t want to leave the unpacking for when the baby was bigger.

  It had all made sense to her when she’d gotten up with a smile on her face that morning.

  But as she was going to load her boxes in her cart, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. In a baggy shirt and jeans, she didn’t look like herself at all. She looked like a pregnant housewife. Someone she’d once been.

  Someone she desperately wanted to be.

  And she stopped.

  What in the hell was she doing? Moving into Brett’s house? How would that work if she ever managed to fall out of love with him and meet someone else?

  Was she, by moving into his home, resigning herself to a life without a mate? A life without romantic love?

  When she started to shake, she knew that she was in over her head. She had to talk to someone.

  And the only people she felt she could comfortably confide in were at The Lemonade Stand.

  Leaving her empty cart for the next customer, Ella left the store. It was her turn to admit she needed help.

  * * *

  BRETT TRIED TO call Ella on his lunch break in Seattle. When she didn’t pick up he left a message for her that the paperwork to transfer his house over to her would be complete by the end of the week. If she wanted to move in prior to that, she was simply to let him know, and he’d accommodate her.

  She was welcome to whatever furniture of his she wanted. What she didn’t want, he’d either move to the apartment or have put in storage until he found another place.

  He wasn’t in a hurry.

  The house, the yard—they’d all be ready and waiting for her.

  And when he hung up, he wasn’t feeling nervous about the plan at all. He wasn’t worried about finding another perfect house for him to live in. He just wasn’t fueled by a need to do so. He had nothing to prove to himself.

  To prove to himself? Was that what his life had become? A series of accomplishments that were all designed to prove...what?

  That he could control his life and thereby control himself?

  He texted Ella as he finished lunch, just to tell her he’d left a voice mail.

  There was no response.

  During the afternoon break he called Ella’s cell phone. Monday was her day off. And she always responded to him, at least with a text. When she didn’t answer, he tried his mother. If there’d been an emergency with the High Risk team, she’d know.

  At the same time, he texted Jeff, just to ask how things were.

  Jeff texted back immediately. He and Chloe and Cody were spending the afternoon at a carnival that was in town.

  If there’d been an emergency, Jeff and Chloe would have known about it. They were listed as her next of kin. She’d already told him that.

  And Brett forced himself to calm down. Ella was fine. Brett just wasn’t a priority in her life.

  Because that was the way he’d wanted it.

  * * *

  “I THOUGHT I was over him.” It was late afternoon. Ella sat with Lila in her little apartment at The Lemonade Stand. She’d already spent an hour talking with Sara, telling the other woman her life story, or at least the parts that pertained to Brett.

  Neither Sara nor Lila knew, of course, that the man she was talking about was the founder of The Lemonade Stand. She couldn’t betray Brett, even now.

  “I went through all the counseling,” she said again now. Repeating herself because no matter how many times she explained things, she couldn’t find the road that would take her out of the past.

  Lila had been sitting, mostly silent, for the past hour.

  “It’s not like I don’t want to say no to him,” she said. “I do in my mind. But my feelings don’t follow my head. I want to move into his house. I want to live there. I want him in my life.”

  “Because you love him.”

  “Yes, but it’s destructive. Because he’s right. I wasn’t happy with him. I needed more. I could have done more, too. I see that now. I didn’t accept him for who he was, but for who I thought he could be—in terms of our relationship. But even if I had accepted him for him, I still would have been incredibly lonely. Because I need more than he can give.”

  “Can or will?”

  “What?”

  “You need more than he can give. Or will give?”

  “I think with him that’s one and the same. He can’t let himself open up because he’s afraid of experiencing the full strength of his emotions. So the will is the choice not to let himself, but the fear makes it so he can’t.”

  “But this...you being here...it’s not really about him. Is it?”

  Ella shook her head.

  “I’m ashamed,” she said.

  “Of what?”

  “I’m so busy thinking of my own life, of how hurt I’ve been and how to prevent being hurt again, and in doing so, I’m hurting him.”

  “Sometimes pain is inevitable.”

  “Yes, but I was so certain when I came here that I was strong enough to move on with my life. But the truth is, I’m not strong enough to stop loving him. I say I will, but I don’t. We’ve been apart all these years and here I am, pregnant with his child and ready to move into his house. Just accepting what he decides he can give in spite of the fact that I know it won’t be enough.”

  She stopped. Her words hanging in the room. Scaring her more than she’d thought possible.

  “I’m weak where he’s concerned,” she said. “It’s like my feelings for him have some kind of power over me and I let them manipulate me. And not only do I get hurt, but he does, too.”

  The pattern was slowly showing itself to her. The books she’d read. The things she’d told Chloe. The loneliness she was trying to run from.

  “And then how do you hurt him?”

  “Because I need what I need. Want what I want. I tell him how much I love him, but I don’t accept him for who he is.” He’d said she’d been so busy telling him what she saw in him, she’d quit listening to what he saw. Who he was inside. So he’d quit talking to her about it. “I set standards he can’t possibly meet.”

  “Maybe so. But your needs and wants are a natural part of you and speaking about them, asking for them, is healthy.”


  “I didn’t come to Santa Raquel for my new job, did I?”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “Because I knew he lived in town. I came here to be close to him. I’m like a pathetic groupie. I don’t get mad at him, I just hang around and let him make us both miserable. I just can’t believe it took me so long to figure it all out.”

  “Our minds have a way of presenting things to us when we’re ready to accept them,” Lila said. “It’s called getting clarity, my dear.”

  Her mind went blank.

  And then started racing.

  “Growing up in an abusive home, not having stability or security even in the simplest of things, instilled in him the need to be in control above all else. And he and I both suffer because of it.”

  It was all so clear.

  So frighteningly, horrifyingly clear.

  “And because I love him, I put up with his inability to open up, to love and share a life with me. I know he can’t help it, so I hang around. But I feel helpless. And eventually hopeless.”

  All these months, she’d been thinking she was proving her ability to be over Brett. To help Chloe and Nora and others take back ownership of their minds. Their hearts. Themselves. And while Chloe had grown stronger, Ella had fallen prey all over again...

  “He must be a pretty fine man, this ex-husband of yours,” Lila said, her eyes glistening as though she might be holding back tears.

  “He’s a great man, Lila. And I don’t just say that because I love him. I look at what he’s done with his life, apart from me, of course. He is a man who has a national reputation for honesty. He got a lot of press at a young age due to a business he’d developed and sold. He was the golden boy everyone could trust. And still is. Believe me, some would love to find dirt on him, but it’s just not there.

  “He has never once given me cause to doubt his integrity.”

  “It sounds like he’s a man worth fighting for.”

  The words stopped her.

  Again.

  “I thought the plan was for me to be free of him once and for all.”

  “The plan is for you to be healthy.”

  “How can I be healthy while I’m controlled by the love I feel for him?”

  “Are you sure that’s a bad thing? If you were in an abusive situation and continued to go back to it, that would be unhealthy. But from what you’ve said, that’s not the case here.”

  “It can’t be healthy, though. It’s like we’re both beating our heads against the wall. We just keep hurting each other.”

  “I’m suggesting that maybe love is pushing you toward him for a reason. You love him. And maybe it’s that love that keeps sending you back to him. Love isn’t easy, my dear. Nor is it always wrapped in pretty packages. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes you have to go through hell to get to where you need to be. But the love is strong enough to carry you through.”

  The words were softly spoken, but they exploded inside her.

  She felt as if she was fighting a losing battle. Because she was. She was trying to fight love, and there was no way she was going to win that one.

  And still, settling into a relationship where she’d never be happy or fulfilled didn’t feel right, either.

  “So what do I do?” Ella rubbed her hand over her growing belly. Taking comfort from the being who nestled there so trustingly.

  Lila glanced at Ella’s hand caressing her baby, a sad expression on her face, and Ella wondered again about the woman. Word through Chloe was that no one really knew much about Lila’s past. “I’m not an expert on love, sweetie,” she said. “But it seems to me that when love is your guiding force, then you need to listen to your heart, not your head, to find your answers.”

  Her heart started to thud. The air cooled. It heated. Ella wanted to grin. And to cry.

  “You think I should do whatever I can to get him to try again?” It was what she wanted, wasn’t it? In her deepest heart.

  “I’m not a counselor,” Lila said. “And I can’t tell you that. From what you say, he’s probably facing some very real issues. I’m only saying that your heart is not accepting the choices your mind is making. You might want to find out why.”

  Her heart would have her running to Brett. Her heart would have her willing to accept whatever crumbs of himself he could give her. Her heart would have her hoping that someday he’d trust himself enough to love her back.

  She couldn’t take any more chances on hope.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  THERE WAS STILL no word from Ella when Brett shut down his phone and boarded the plane home that night. He must have scared her, offering her his home. Perhaps it had seemed like nothing more than a grand gesture.

  He’d meant only to give her every part of himself that he could. Because he couldn’t give her what she wanted...

  Brett had come full circle. Sitting on the plane after his meeting, he was grateful for the physical restraint holding him in his seat.

  He’d upgraded himself to first class. He needed the space.

  And ordered a cocktail. To calm his nerves.

  Realizing his hands were once again clenching the armrests, he forced his muscles to relax.

  He was a little boy again, a month after his tenth birthday. His little sister had been sick. His parents had just come home from the doctor. They were fighting. His father was saying things Brett didn’t really understand. Using words that had never been spoken in their home before. His mother had started to cry.

  Livia, seven at the time, had whispered to him, “I’m scared, Brett.”

  She was on the couch, where their father had set her when he’d carried her in. Brett was with her. He’d been reading, but put the Baby-Sitters Little Sister book down and told her, “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

  He’d really believed he could protect her. His folks had given him the job when she was born. Before they even brought her home from the hospital. “You’re the big brother,” they’d said, assuring him that his role was as important as anyone else’s. That he wouldn’t get any less time and attention from them.

  He’d been only three.

  But he remembered hearing that.

  In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Nothing he’d known during those first ten years of his life had mattered.

  He hadn’t been able to help Livia. She’d been scared of dying, and he’d sat there and watched her die.

  He’d told his mother he wouldn’t let his father lay another hand on her, but the old man had just knocked him out cold and hit her anyway.

  He’d made a silent promise to Ella that he’d never hurt her.

  And that was just about all he’d done.

  His plans...they hadn’t worked.

  Which left him with...nothing.

  No plan. No action to take. No solutions.

  The engine droned. A lady across the aisle snored. He was like his mother. He shut down. Cut people off. He couldn’t open his heart to the woman he loved more than life.

  He dared anyone to sit there with a sick little girl who was looking to you to make it all better. To listen to his mom get the crap beat out of her because another medical bill had come in, and they didn’t have the money to pay and be too young to get a job.

  You have to make your own choices, Brett. How often had he heard his mother say those words?

  She’d been so certain he’d make the right ones.

  And how could she believe that? He’d made one wrong choice after another.

  You aren’t your father, Brett, you’re your mother.

  Ella’s words came back to him. Brett closed his eyes. Tried to sleep.

  Rage is distorted anger. Usually resulting from internal shame. He’d read that someplace.

  Rage triggered fight-or-flight tendencies. Which triggered chemicals in the brain to see everyone in sight as an enemy. To distort thought.

  To lash out at everyone.

  He knew all of this.

  Knew it.

  Your instinct
s are honed to prevent abuse. Ella had told him that when he’d saved Jeff from hitting Chloe.

  You’re a great man, just one who’s chosen to live life on the sidelines. He could see Ella standing on the boat in the dark, looking so damned sexy in jeans and that big bulky sweater.

  I’m scared, Brett.

  Don’t worry, I’m here.

  Livia had trusted him.

  It’s not a matter of what I think of you, Brett. It’s a matter of what you think of you that’s always been the problem.

  Ella had taken a chance on him. Married him. Loved him.

  I’m scared, Brett.

  You’ve taken thirteen years of my life. You can’t have any more.

  And that was really it, wasn’t it?

  He’d had his chances. And he’d blown them.

  The overhead speaker crackled. The captain’s voice came on asking the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for arrival.

  A good man was all he’d ever wanted to be.

  He’d taken control of his life, of his behavior.

  And now the only thing he could do, was being made to do, was return his seat back to its full upright position and hand over his first-class tray table.

  * * *

  ELLA CALLED LILA on her way home from work on Wednesday.

  “I want, first of all, to thank you,” she said. “For listening the other day.”

  “You’re welcome, my dear,” Lila said. “You do understand that it is not my job, nor my training, to give advice...”

  “You listened. I think that’s what I needed most.”

  “I think so, too.”

  She’d spent the last couple nights home alone. Cleaning. Listening to music. Talking to her unborn child. Trying to quiet her mind so she could hear her heart. Brett had been back in town Monday night, and would be again that afternoon. Ever since she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d been keeping her up-to-date on his schedule. He would be calling at some point. Wanting to switch homes with her. She had to know what to tell him.

  “Do you think, maybe, we could get dinner or something sometime?”

  “I don’t go out much,” Lila said. “But let’s not rule it out.”

  Ella took a breath. Wiped her sweaty hand on her scrubs.