The Good Father

The man he’d always been. It stood to reason that he’d just take for granted that he could handle whatever came his way.

Just as being the son of an abusive man, being a victim, having his mother turn on him, were all things Brett knew about himself. And Ella had expected Brett to fit her concept of what a husband would be like in a normal, loving relationship. She’d expected a partner who could be open with her. Because that was all she’d ever known because of the relationships she’d witnessed. It was what she wanted and needed.

No wonder they hadn’t been able to stay together.

“We’re going to make it,” Jeff said now, putting his arm around Chloe’s waist as she joined him at the stove, watching as he cracked eggs into the pan over the potatoes.

“I hope so.”

What he said made sense. Ella wanted to believe.

She just wasn’t sure she had it in her anymore.

* * *

BRETT WAS HOME Sunday evening, having just hung up the phone from Jeff, who was also at home, his family settled back in with him, when his phone indicated an incoming text message.

He’d heard happiness in Jeff’s voice, but an equal amount of apprehension, as well. Because Jeff feared that he could slip back into his old ways again.

Truth was he could. But in Jeff’s case, Brett didn’t think so. Now that Jeff was aware of his problem, now that both he and Chloe were tending to it, now that they were around others who knew to watch for the signs, he was going to be fine.

He’d told Jeff to text him anytime he had doubts. But this text wasn’t from Jeff.

I think the baby’s moving.

He read it again. And realized his hand was shaking. Not out of panic. Or fear. He wasn’t feeling tense. Just...nervous.

They’d never reached this point the last time. Movement indicated life. A growing human being.

He pushed speed dial.

“Hello?”

Was she at home alone? He wanted to share the moment with her. It was theirs.

And he wanted to make certain there wasn’t anything wrong. For her sake. Ella couldn’t take another miscarriage. Didn’t deserve one.

“What does it feel like?”

“Like air bubbles. It’s been going on for a couple days—a lot more today than before. The way I’m feeling is exactly how the internet describes first baby movement. You said you wanted to be kept informed.”

Yes, and there was a warmth to her voice that had been missing from her recent communications.

“When you put your hand on your stomach, do you feel any movement against your hand?” And how did that stomach look? He hadn’t seen her in weeks.

She’d lost their first child before she’d started to show.

“No. Apparently it will be a bit before he gets that big and strong.”

Brett had an image of very tiny arms and legs trying to stretch. Thoughts raced through his mind. All of them coming at once. Good ones. Bad ones. His breathing got shallower.

And he said, “I’m giving you my house.”

“What?”

“I said I’m giving you my house.”