by Paige North
My arms fall to my sides. “I know you think I’m weak, but I’m not. I’m broken, Penelope. I have to fix myself before I can be anyone’s father. Do you understand?” It’s probably the most responsible thing I have ever and will ever say to anyone.
She turns and looks at me coldly. “What happened to you? What did she do to you?”
So she senses that this is about my mother. I suppose I’ve made it obvious enough.
I sigh deeply. Swallow, control the trembling shaking in my chest. “She had untreated mental illness for years. The list of abuses, both emotional and physical, are long and tedious. I’m tired of thinking about it, frankly.”
“Or maybe you’re tired of pretending not to think about it,” Penelope replies. “You need help.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. She’s right, I realize. But it’s too late for that—too late for me, really.
“Maybe. Maybe I need help. But that’s not the time to become a father to a child in need of stability and balance and love. And you know it,” I finish.
She stares at me, through me, for a long time. After what feels like an eternity, she says, “I’m so sorry you had to go through what you went through, Ethan.”
Just hearing her say those words nearly sends me over the edge. It means so much coming from her. Still, I fight the urge to bring her close, to try and heal one another with soft-spoken words.
I nod but say nothing. It’s not going to happen. I’ve made my decision. “Thank you. You’ll be relieved from your position immediately after the agency comes to pick her up. I’ll be paying for the full four months despite the job coming to termination. That should be more than enough to—”
“Take away your guilt. Fine then, do what you need to do,” she interrupts, her gaze burning a hole into my soul.
And then she turns and walks away from me.
Penelope
Walking into her nursery on the morning I’m set to leave is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Lilly Belle stands in her crib after her morning bottle, arms up, asking me to pick her up. I’m torn. On one hand, it’ll be the last act I do as her nanny, so I should enjoy it. Savor it. On the other hand, it may be easier if I say goodbye from the door. If I can’t hold her, no one will have to rip me away from her.
Wilson waits in the hallway.
Ethan isn’t here, of course. He would never be able to watch this and keep a cold heart.
I’ve taken care of children for three different families since I started working with Le Nanny two years ago, but nobody has affected me quiet like Lilly Belle. Yes, I fell for Ethan and that made it harder, all those moments we spent together as a family, but I loved her more than the rest just the same. We had a special bond, Silly Lilly and me. She lost her parents, and I arrived right when she needed a mommy.
Only I’ll never be her mommy now.
I decide on the hug.
“Hey, sweet pea. Finished your bottle?” I swoop in and pick her up. She’s chunky, and her soft skin smells of powder and milk and yumminess. I love her. I love her so much. Taking a deep breath, I tell her, “Listen, Silly Lilly Belle, you’re going to a new family very soon. I promise you they are going to be the absolute best!”
Lilly Belle gaggles and burps, and laughs.
“And guess what? I told your uncle last night that I wanted the opportunity to see you again when you’re all settled in. He agreed, and he’s requesting for open adoption cases only. So, I will see you again. Got that?”
I don’t know for sure that the agency will be able to comply, but he’s at least going to put in the request. For all I know, they won’t be able to come through, and this is it. This is goodbye. Lilly Belle looks at me, those big saucer wide blue eyes. Quieted down, she seems to understand that what I’m saying is important. I don’t usually talk this much.
She gurgles at me with wide, innocent eyes.
I feel my heart tear irrevocably.
Well, this is it. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the next Metro North train leaving for Tarrytown at Grand Central Station. I hold Lilly Belle close to my chest, to my heart, fighting back tears. Fighting them so hard, but it’s no use, because I’m not made of titanium like some people. “I love you, Silly Belle. You be a good girl.” I kiss her chubby little cheeks and carry her out to the hallway.
Handing her over to Wilson is like handing over my arm, or my ribs, or a third of my heart. “Please make sure he does his best by her,” I tell Wilson. Pressing his lips together in sympathy, he nods and I slip Lilly Belle into his arms. Holding her chin in my fingertips and looking into her eyes one last time, I think about the alternatives. There are none.
I wish I could adopt her myself, but I know I can’t. I’m a single woman. I’m only twenty-one. I have nothing to my name but a small business that hardly brings in any income. I’m not a candidate no matter how much I’d like to be.
I turn around and leave as quickly as I can, feeling my soul empty out behind me as I go.
“Babababa!” Lilly Belle shouts.
“I love you, too, sweet pea,” I call out. No turning back.
Life, the city, moves on through blurry, watery tears.
Walking up the sidewalk to my house is more than a homecoming. It’s healing. The moment my mother opens the door and announces, “Penelope’s home!” I break down. Dropping my bag by her side, I let her envelop me with her arms, her hug, her whole aura of love.
This. This is my family, even if I do still feel like I’m missing pieces of myself. What I experienced before was only what could be. A glimpse of one possible future. Like Ethan said, we were playing house.
It feels good to be home, but also terrible all at once. I was only away for seven weeks this time, but a lot happened while I was gone. I fell in love with two different souls, and together, that made it more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced. My mom knows nothing about it either, but I think it’s time to tell her.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” She wipes my eyes, grabs my bag, and draws me into the house. I say hello to my sisters, tell them that the Townsend Mansion was absolutely beautiful, yes, the city is amazing this time of year, and ignore my mom’s question. Once the kids skedaddle back to their rooms, I face my mom.
“You have time?”
“I make time.” Her golden eyes sparkle in the sunlight.
For the next two hours, we talk at the kitchen table like we used to whenever anything was troubling me. My mom is great at listening, but she’s extra quiet this time, wearing a worried expression, and I feel that she’s going to judge me. How could I fall for my boss, how did I not know better, how could I allow myself to fall so deeply in such a hopeless situation?
But she doesn’t judge me, only leans in and hugs me and tells me how sorry she is.
And then I cry, and cry, and cry some more.
And she holds me and doesn’t say anything, because there’s nothing else to be said…
Over the next week or so, I keep myself busy with my small business, working on my contacts list, and sending out promotions while getting ready for the winter semester. I reconnect with some of my friends and try telling myself how great it is to be without Lilly Belle so I can have a social life again. None of it works, but I’m learning to live with the pain of letting go. Whether or not they were right for me, I feel like I lost my husband and daughter.
Soon after, Mom comes into the living room one day holding an open envelope. Her hands are shaking, and the paper trembles, as she stares at it, confused. “Penelope, did you…did you pay off the mortgage on the house?”
“Mom, I don’t get paid that much. Why? What happened?”
“I have to call your father at work then. And the bank. I think this is a mistake.”
“Well, if it’s a mistake in your favor, then don’t call the bank!” I tell her. I mean, seriously. If the universe drops a huge gift in your lap, you don’t give it back. Who is she, Ethan Townsend?
She walks away, scratching her he
ad, mumbling to herself, then she pauses at the sofa and turns around. “You don’t suppose…Ethan paid it off, do you?”
Ethan? I don’t even know how he would do that. He would need my parents’ names and mortgage number, the name of their bank, and all sorts of information in order to pay it off. I didn’t give him any of that. “I don’t see how, Ma.”
“Can you ask him? I mean, I’m grateful. Holy shit, am I grateful…” Finally, the shock wears off and an ecstatic look comes through. Her eyes light up like she’s been given a new lease on life. “If it was him, then he’s quite possibly the most generous man in the world.”
If it is him, then he’s just feeling guilty, I think to myself.
Regardless of how it happened, we call the bank and my father and discover that the mortgage, has, in fact, been paid off. $85,000 of debt just poof—gone. While my mother rejoices, calls every friend she can think of to tell them what just happened, and everyone runs around the house like chickens with their heads cut off, I sit outside and stare at the sky about to snow.
He’s not generous. He feels bad for what he did, and this is how he makes himself feel better. Money is no object to him—he said so himself. He’s rich. Money he can give away. It’s love that he holds onto, love that he hoards and keeps to himself.
He never spent a dime of the currency that truly mattered to him.
The next day, we’re getting ready for dinner. I haven’t slept well. All I could think about was the fact that Ethan paid off the mortgage.
I miss him terribly and half of me wants to call him and thank him profusely, while the other half wants to curse him out and tell him how much I hate him.
Do I hate him or do I love him?
Sadly, I don’t know anymore. All I know is I’m tired of aching and hurting.
I’m peeling potatoes to boil for the mashed potatoes when I hear a honk outside. My mother and I exchange glances. “You expecting someone?” she asks.
“No, who would I be expecting?” I say. Wondering if it’s even meant for us, I peer out the kitchen window. Outside is a stretch limo a mile long just parked in front of our house. “What the heck?”
“What is it?” Mom moves into the space next to me, as we both peer out the blinds. “That’s not who I think it is, is it?”
We all filter into the living room to stare outside as the horn continues to blare. Suddenly, a head emerges from the sunroof, then a pair of shoulders and arms, and finally, a big bouquet of sunflowers.
What in the actual fuck is Ethan Townsend doing here?
I storm to the front door and yank it open, running outside with my hands up. “What are you doing?” I yell. A few neighbors have come outside to see what the commotion is.
He smiles and tells the driver to knock it off. Dropping out of the sunroof, he opens the side door and steps out looking as amazing as I’ve ever seen him in blue jeans, boots, and a brown leather jacket with scarf.
My heart leaps and aches all at once.
He steps all the way up to me, as my sister behind me says, “Is that Ethan?”
I shoot her a glare over my shoulder to shut her up. I don’t want anyone stroking Ethan’s ego. Turning back to him, I say, “Ethan, what are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see you, Penelope.” With a sad smile, he hands me the sunflowers and leans in for a kiss on the cheek. Fragmented images come crashing into my mind like shards of glass from my memory—his stubble against my face, the smell of his skin when it’s lit by passion. Things I had pushed out of my mind all come barreling back.
“You couldn’t have come without the loud-ass limo?”
“Go big or go home, Sweetness.” That smile. Cocky, big, and gorgeous. I hate him.
I cross my arms. “Not sure if you know this, but this is a quiet neighborhood. We…” I gesture behind me. “Are a humble family who isn’t impressed with luxurious antics.”
“Alright, so I shouldn’t have blared the horn, but I had to find you. I need to talk to you, Penelope. Come with me and we’ll go somewhere quiet.”
“I don’t want to see you.” My heart hurts saying that, because it’s not true. For over a week, I’ve imagined Ethan changing his mind, becoming the man I wanted him to be of his own free will. But I don’t want to hurt anymore, and seeing him makes me feel like I’m being torn open all over again.
“Wow. Cold. I’m impressed. It’s like I don’t even know you,” he says.
“Yeah, well…I learned from the best.” Suck on that, Townsend.
After a moment of looking off down the road, he says, “I deserve that. But I still need to speak to you.”
“We’re fine right here,” I say. Anything he wants to say, he can say it in front of my family. Speaking of spoiled brats, he’s used to getting whatever he wants, but he’s on my territory now. If he wants to speak to me, my front stoop is a perfectly good location. I whip around and walk back to the steps, shooing everyone back into the house. Then, I sit on the front steps.
“Alright, I guess we’re going to talk right here.” He sits next to me, and a whiff of his aftershave slides under my nose. I love that smell and fight the urges my body is beginning to feel. My body doesn’t know shit, and that’s why I got hurt in the first place.
“Did you find her a good home?” I ask, staring straight ahead at the black limo. I almost choke on the question.
“I did,” he says softly.
The moment he says it, I start getting up. “I can’t do this, Ethan. I can’t listen to anything you have to say if she’s not a part of your life. I’m sorry.”
He takes my hand and sits me back down. “I didn’t say she was adopted.”
My eyes connect with his—crystal clear and full of what I hope are good intentions. It’s so hard to tell when emotions are running amuck in my head and heart. “She hasn’t? Why, what’s wrong? I would think any family would want her immediately.”
He nods. “I’m sure that’s true. And I kept thinking that I was going to hand her over to the agency as planned. But each day I kept postponing it, to the point where Wilson finally called me on my shit. He told me that I’d fallen in love with her and with you. He told me that she’s my daughter and you’re her mother, and I knew he was goddamn right.”
I stare at him uncomprehendingly.
His eyes have teared up but he smiles a little.
My chest vibrates with a feeling I can’t even name. It’s more than happiness, it’s like elation or joy. Yes, joy. “Ethan, are you sure? You can’t just say things that you know I want to hear. Please don’t mess with me.”
Swiveling toward me, he takes my hand and caresses it with a thumb. I look down at our hands. I want so much for it to work out, but I can’t go through this hurt again. I just can’t. Suddenly, I realize that’s the same feeling Ethan had the night of Lilly Belle’s accident, like he couldn’t go through with the pain again. He couldn’t lose yet another person he loved.
“I’m not messing with you, Penelope.” And then he moves away, stands, pulls something from his pocket, and kneels down in front of me.
When he opens the black velvet box, I see the biggest diamond ever shimmering at me.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, but it’s not because of the diamond. I’m staring at Ethan’s eyes, and his smile, and I realize this is all real.
And then he asks me, and I say yes.
Ethan
Penelope tells me she has something to talk about.
I’ve only just woken up and gotten my coffee, which I sip, then glance at my watch. It’s early, and Lilly Belle is still sleeping.
“What’s up?” I ask my fiancé, as she stands before me, beautiful as ever, no makeup necessary.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about a few things we need to clear up.”
I make a face. Shit. I know things aren’t going to just be perfect right away after everything I’ve put her through, but I hope to god she’s not having second thoughts about marrying me. “Okay, shoot,” I tell her. “I
’m listening.”
“Firstly, we need to talk about Wilson.”
My eyebrows rise. “Wilson?”
She nods. “Ethan, the man’s been your servant for almost twenty-five years. He’s old. He wants to retire, but he worries too much about you. You’re like a son to him so he can’t stay away. But now that we’re getting married, he can finally retire and start spending more time with his family. Please promise you’ll let him go and give him pension so he can enjoy life in South Carolina. Please. He deserves it.”
“That filthy bugger?” I scoff, relieved that’s all it was, giving her a warming smile. It’s actually a great idea, and I was starting to think about suggesting this to Wilson anyway. “Fine, done. What else?”
“Your mother.”
“Forget it. I’m not making amends with her.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” she says. “I was going to say that if having her in your life remains a toxic situation, then I don’t want her anywhere near Lilly Belle. However, if you think you can go to therapy with her, sort things out, and make room for her in your life, I’m fine with that, too. I’ll support whatever you want to do, but I want you to make a decision one way or another on whether or not to include her in your life.”
I stay quiet. I don’t ever want to see my mother again. Yes, the five-year-old in me still yearns for her approval. It’s driven everything I’ve done in my life, but at some point, I have to accept that situation for what it is.
“I’m still not sure about my mother. A lot depends on her,” I say. “But I promise she won’t be around Lilly or you unless she has changed from the way she used to be.”
