WES

I’d avoided my mother all week. Refused to take the lunches she packed for me to work. Ate dinner at Hannah’s almost every night. Came home so late she was already in bed when I got there. The only time I saw her was in the morning before work, but I never initiated a conversation with her and gave only one-word answers if she asked me a question. I didn’t enjoy the hurt expression on her face, nor did I enjoy freezing her out. And I knew I’d make up with her eventually, but dammit, she owed me an apology.

I didn’t say anything to Hannah about it, because I didn’t want her to be concerned. She had enough to deal with in her own mind. I was kicking myself for even mentioning the argument to her in the first place. I should have just kept my mouth shut.

By Friday the tension in my parents’ house was almost unbearable, and my dad asked me if I’d grab a drink with him after work. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Sure,” I said, although I had a pretty good feeling I knew what the something was and I wouldn’t like it.

At least he waited until our drinks arrived. “I take it you had words with your mother,” he said, lifting his scotch on the rocks to his lips.

“Yeah.” I drank from mine too.

“She’s a tough cookie.”

“Yeah.”

“But she’s had to be.”

I let that stew a little. “What do you mean? Because of Drew?”

“Even before that.” He sipped again, his eyes on the TV screen above the bar.

I waited for him to elaborate. I’d never heard anything negative about my mother’s past. Her father, a doctor, had died before I was born, and her mother had died of cancer when I was two. She’d been an only child.

Dad took his sweet old time, as usual, but eventually spoke. “Her father was an alcoholic philanderer who constantly abandoned his family. Her mother coped with pills that knocked her out and left her unable to take care of her daughter. From the time she was five, she had to take care of herself.”

I was stunned. Sickened. “She never said anything.”

“She never wanted you to know. That’s how her family was. Big on appearances.”

Some things clicked into place. Pieces of my mother’s personality suddenly made sense. It occurred to me what mysteries our parents can be to us. We think we know them, but really, we only know what they choose to tell us.

“She loved her Daddy,” my father went on, “and always blamed her mother for their troubles. Said if her mother was more devoted, her father wouldn’t have left all the time.”

I swallowed more scotch. All the scotch.

“I don’t know what she said to you or whether she was right or wrong. But I do know that she loves you the way she wanted to be loved, and her children were her entire life. Are her entire life. Her validation.”

“I’ll have another,” I said to the bartender.

* * *

I went home for dinner.

My mother had made smothered pork chops, which I saw as a peace offering. I’d also had two drinks, so I was mellow, if cautious. The three of us sat at the table, my mother serving us all with a nervous smile on her face.

My parents talked easily about whatever—the weather, his retirement, friends, neighbors—but I stayed mostly silent. Even though I felt I understood her better, I still wanted an apology. A tough childhood didn’t mean you got a free pass to be mean to others.

After dinner, my dad retired to his chair in the great room, and I helped my mom with the dishes.

I wanted to open a dialogue between us, but I wasn’t sure how. Drew, help me out here.

As if my brother had heard, my mother broke the silence. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t know,” I said, loading plates into the dishwasher.

“I upset you, and for that I’m sorry.” She spooned leftovers into a plastic container.

“Just for that?”

She snapped the lid on the container and took it to the fridge. “How can I be sorry for wanting the best for my son? For wanting to protect him?”

“You can’t,” I agreed. “But you said some hurtful things.”

She stuck the container in the fridge and shut it. “I’m sorry, Wes.”

I looked toward her. She was still facing the fridge.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she went on. “That’s the last thing I ever want to do.” She turned to face me, her expression terrified. “You’re all I have left.”

I exhaled, feeling the weight of being someone’s only hope settle heavily on my shoulders. “Mom, that’s not true.”

“It is,” she insisted, starting to cry. “All my life, I couldn’t wait to get married and have my own family. I was going to do everything right, give my children every advantage, make sure they never lacked for anything.”

“You did.”

“But I couldn’t save him.” She sobbed openly, and I couldn’t resist going to her, taking her in my arms. “I couldn’t save him and I miss him so much.”

My throat tightened as she wept, the second time tonight I’d comforted a crying woman. It was hard to measure a loss—which was greater, the loss of a twin, a child, a spouse? All of us had suffered so much. We had to help each other.

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m not mad anymore.”

“Are you sure?” She pulled back and sniffed.

“I’m sure. Look, this is rough on us all. We need to find our way in a world without Drew, and it’s strange.”

“It is.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I think he’s just going to walk through the door, like he always did, his voice booming, his eyes so bright. Always laughing.”

But it’s only me, I thought, wondering if she, or Hannah, for that matter, was ever disappointed once the truth sank in.

“Oh, goodness.” She scooted around me and reached for a tissue from the box on the counter. “I’m sorry, darling. This is the last thing you need.”

I ran a hand through my hair, exhausted all of a sudden. “It’s fine, Mom.”

“You look so tired. You’re working too much.”

“I like the work.”

“Did you even eat this week? You never came home for dinner.”

“Yes, I ate.”

“Where?”

“I’ve been hanging out with Pete a lot.” I hated to lie about my time with Hannah, but it seemed wise for now. “At his house, or sometimes we just grab whatever.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good. You need to have some fun. And I’m looking so forward to your birthday dinner.”

“Where is it?”

Her shiny blue eyes twinkled. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You don’t have to do anything but show up next Saturday. I’ve got it all planned.”

“But how will I know where to show up?”

“Never you mind,” she said, busying herself by tossing her tissue in the trash and fussing with her hair. “I’ll tell you in plenty of time.”

Something cold and slithery snaked up my spine. I crossed my arms. “And who’s on the guest list?”

“Never you mind about that, either,” she said, patting me on the shoulder. “All I want is for you to come ready to have a nice time.” She left the kitchen before I could protest.

Should I go after her? Tell her not to bother scheming, I wasn’t interested? Admit to her I’d fallen for Hannah years ago and couldn’t see myself with anyone else, and I was only waiting for her to accept me openly? Confess that we’d had sex in her bathroom, on her bedroom floor, and in the backseat of my car in the space of four days?

I almost laughed out loud. She’d probably pass out. And Hannah would be furious. No, the best thing to do was ease into things slowly where Hannah was concerned, and appease my mother whenever I could. The birthday dinner seemed like a small thing to give her, a little gift from our past, when she’d plan huge, fun parties for Drew and me.

I could do that much for her.

* * *

“You look nice. Where are you headed?” My mother eyed me as I scooped up my keys from the kitchen counter and stopped for a moment to check my messages.

“Over to get Hannah and Abby.”

I didn’t even look up at her, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw her stiffen. “For what?”

“I want to buy Abby a piano. We’re going into Port Huron to check some out.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a store there that sells them.” As if I hadn’t understood the question.

“No, I mean why are you buying her a piano?”

I slipped my phone into my coat pocket and met her eyes. “Because she wants lessons and she’s talented and it’s what Drew would have done.”

“Oh.” She thought about that. “Hannah never mentioned to me Abby wanted lessons. We could have bought Abby a piano.”

“This isn’t about you, Mom. Hannah probably didn’t mention it because she doesn’t want to be a charity case.”

“That’s a good point, you know. Pianos are expensive. This is quite a gift.”

“I’m quite a guy.” I chose to brush off her comment with a joke rather than let her turn this into a discussion about the inappropriate nature of buying Hannah such an expensive gift. “See you later.”

* * *

At the music center, I asked for the salesperson I’d read was the most knowledgeable, and she helped us find the perfect piano for Abby. It was a used upright in great condition, the wood was polished and free of nicks and scars, and Abby loved its matching bench with a lid that opened and closed. When Hannah heard the fifteen hundred dollar price tag, she looked at me with panicked eyes, but I just squeezed her hand and told the woman we’d take it. Abby jumped up and down with excitement.

We arranged for delivery within a few days, and I took down several names of teachers in the area the woman recommended for a student Abby’s age.

“Thank you,” Hannah kept saying on the drive home. “This means so much to her, and to me.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure Abby wasn’t watching, I took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She pulled her hand away and glanced into the back seat. “You shouldn’t.”

“I know.”

We got back to town around dinnertime and went out for pizza. Abby chattered excitedly about school, an upcoming field trip to a cider mill, her friend Ella’s new puppy, and what she wanted to be for Halloween (a zombie cheerleader). Hannah talked about her cookbook project for the inn, and I joyfully volunteered to be taste tester for any and all recipes that needed sampling. We talked about my new house, what renovations were the top priorities, and what the possibilities were for the kitchen.

“I’d love to see the space again,” she said, taking another slice of pizza from the standing tray. It made me happy to see her with a good appetite. “When do you close?”

“The tenth. There was a little delay because the owners were out of the state. But things should move quickly now.”

“I bet Lenore will be sad to see you go.”

“Tough. I’m going.” My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I pulled it out. It was a text from my mother. “Speak of the devil. She wants to know if we’re back yet and if we’re coming to dinner at her house.”

“Oops,” Hannah said.

“I’ll tell her we already ate.”

“I feel bad. Maybe we should have invited your parents?” she asked.

“It’s fine.” I texted her back, and she replied with a sad emoji and a question. “Now she’s asking if Abby wants to sleep over.”

“Yes!” shouted Abby.

I looked at Hannah, who shrugged.

“It’s okay with me.”

Yes, she does, I told my mom. We will bring her over after we finish up here.

While Hannah took Abby to the bathroom, I paid the bill and was ready to go when they came back to the table.

“You weren’t supposed to pay for dinner, I wanted to!” She made a face at me.

“I invited you, remember?” I ushered them toward the door, one hand on Hannah’s lower back, one on Abby’s shoulder. It was a small, perhaps insignificant thing, leaving a restaurant with them that way, but for some reason, it filled me with indescribable joy.

“But you bought us a piano today,” she complained as we walked through the parking lot. Abby was between us, holding one of Hannah’s hands and one of mine.

“Exactly. So what’s one measly pizza?” I unlocked the car, and Abby hopped into the back seat, where I helped buckle her up.

“Uncle Wes, will you be my special person?”

Hannah, buckling herself into the front passenger seat, turned and looked at us over her shoulder. “I thought you wanted me to be your special person.”

“Well, I did,” Abby said, “but no one brings their moms. They’re all bringing dads or other people like grandmas or grandpas.”

“What’s a special person?” I asked, looking back and forth between them.

“It’s something at school,” Hannah explained, tucking her hair behind her ear. “When you’re the student of the week, you get to invite someone to school. The person comes in and reads a story to the class.”

“And I get to introduce you and say what you do and they can ask you questions.” Abby smiled at me. “So will you come?”

“Abby, Uncle Wes has work,” Hannah said.

“I can arrange a morning off.” I smiled at Abby. “I’d be glad to be your special person. Thanks for asking me.”

I got in and started the engine. “Do you need anything from home, Abby?”

“No, I brought my elephant with me.”

“Okay, good.”

“Want to drop me off?” asked Hannah after I’d turned out of the lot.

“Not unless you’re tired of my company.”

She laughed. “Not at all.”

* * *

Once Abby was settled on the couch with my mother and a huge bowl of microwave popcorn, a Disney movie on the TV screen, I told my mom I was taking Hannah home.

“Okay, darling. And you’re coming right back?” She eyed me expectantly.

“Not sure. I might meet Pete and Jack for a drink later.”

Her eyebrows went up. “You’ve been seeing quite a bit of them.”

“Not really.”

“Just about every night last week.”

“We’re catching up, Mom. Anyway, have a good night.”

“Night, darling. Night, Hannah.”

“Goodnight.”

I opened the front door, and Hannah went out, walking silently toward the car with her head down. She said nothing until we were halfway to her house.

“I hate that we have to lie about this.”

I took her hand. “We won’t always.”

She sighed. “You can’t keep telling her you’re out with Pete every night. It’s not even plausible. He has a family. Plus you could get caught in that lie if she sees him.”

“I don’t care. I’m thirty-six years old, Hannah, and it’s not my mother’s business what I do. I only told the lie to protect you. If you want me to tell her the truth, I will.”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I’m not ready for that.”

“You just let me know.” I kissed the back of her hand and held it in my lap. “I loved taking you and Abby out all day.”

“We loved it, too. You’re much too generous.”

“It makes me happy, doing things for you.”

“I can tell.” She squeezed my hand. “Pull in my driveway. I’ll go in and open the garage door for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

She went inside the house and a moment later, her garage door opened. I pulled inside and parked next to her car, a Honda Civic. Briefly looking it over, I wondered if it was in good condition and when her last oil change had been. I went into the kitchen through the back door and was about to ask her when I saw her staring at her phone and shaking her head.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“Look at this.” She handed me her phone and I looked at the screen. “It’s from someone I used to be friends with I don’t see very often now.”

HANNAH!!

OMG what is going on I’m dying!

I heard you were out to dinner with Drew’s brother Wes?! Is that true?! EEEEEP! Weirdness!

Call me!!!

I gave her back her phone. “Ignore this. It’s one person.”

“Oh no,” she said, “there’s more. Here’s another friend.” She gave me the phone back.

Hey Hannah! Just wondering how you’re doing! My mom said she saw you out for dinner tonight with Wes Parks?? What’s going on there?! Give me the scoop! #affair

I groaned. “People are fucking terrible.”

“And last but not least, the voicemail.” She took her phone, swiped at the screen a few times, and turned up the volume.

“Hi Hannah, it’s Faye. Listen, babe, my friend Lucy just texted me that she saw you tonight with Wes Parks at Windjammer and it looked pretty cozy. Then I remembered that my mom mentioned seeing a black car parked in front of your house a few times late at night—she lives right by you—and I was like, oh my god, would they really? I’m only teasing, I’m sure there’s nothing going on, and that’s exactly what I said to Lucy, but you know how she talks. Anyway, just give me a call when you can and let me know what’s up. We have to get together soon! Miss you! Hope you’re doing well!”

When it was over, she put her phone on the table. “I hate everyone.”

“Hey. Listen to me.” I took her shoulders and turned her toward me. “Those people do not matter. They are not your friends.”

“Your mother matters. And I don’t like being talked about.” She crossed her arms.

“Come here.” I pulled her to my chest and held her close for the first time today. She smelled so good. “I don’t care what any of those assholes out there say or think about us. We don’t need their permission to be happy. As far as I’m concerned, there is only one asshole whose permission we need, and I already asked him for it.”

“Drew?” she guessed.

“Yes. Believe it or not, I actually had a conversation with him the night of Abby’s birthday dinner.”

“I believe you,” she said softly. “What did he say?”

“He said…” My throat suddenly got tight. “He said, ‘Love them enough for both of us.’”

She sniffled. “That sounds like him.”

“And he told me I better not fuck it up.”

Her laugh was half snort, half sob. “That sounds like him, too.”

“He also told me to get the hell out of Mom and Dad’s house.”

“Also totally him.”

I kissed the top of her head and held her tight. “And he said life is short.”

“It is.”

“So I didn’t want to wait any longer. I felt like I’d been waiting to be with you forever, but Hannah—we can slow down, if you want. We don’t have to go out in public together. I don’t have to be here every night. I know, for you, it’s only been a few weeks.”

She twined her arms around my waist. “But I want you here every night. Everything is better when you’re here.”

“Then I’ll be here.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore, Wes.”

I took her head in my hands. “You will never be alone again.”

“When you say things like that, I get scared.”

“Don’t. There’s nothing to be scared of, Hannah. I love you. We’re gonna be okay.”

She rose up on her toes and kissed me. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Okay,” I said, brushing the hair back from her face. “I’ll stay.”