Lillian sat on the stool at her easel in the loft of what was once the guest house. Now, ten years later, the upstairs served as her private studio. James sat in a large overstuffed chair, socked feet up on an ottoman, typing away at his laptop as he worked at his own job. He glanced up to watch her, one paint brush in between her teeth, another in her hand working away at the canvas she had been working on for weeks.
They both heard the door swing open downstairs and quick stomping footsteps coming up the stairs.
A young girl came running over to her. "Momma! Momma! Look what Lewis found in the woods!"
Lillian quickly put her paintbrushes into their holders before her daughter made a mess of both of them.
"Oh, let me see now? And if Lewis found it, Lizzie Louise, then why are you bringing it to me and not him?"
When Lillian found out she was having twins, and one was a girl, she had asked James if she could name her Elizabeth Louise, after her best friend and his mother. Eventually, the young girl became known as Lizzie, or Lizzie Louise if she was in trouble.
Lizzie carefully opened up her hand, palm up, for her mother to see the arrowhead. "Because, Momma, he can't run fast and I wanted you to see it quick!"
Lillian sighed and glanced at her husband, who was watching the exchange from over the top of his laptop screen. "Lizzie Louise, what have I told you before?" At just that moment another, slower pair of footsteps came up the stairs. An out of breath, short-haired, male match to Lizzie appeared. Lillian smiled sweetly at the boy then looked back at Lizzie. "Your brother runs just as fast as he needs to for his purposes. And this arrowhead doesn't look any different than it would have if he had brought it to me in his time." Lizzie looked down, a bit ashamed, so her mother pulled her over and kissed her on the forehead. "Go snuggle with your Papa for a moment and let me chat with Lewis."
James was thankful to have heard the exchange, he moved his laptop just in time for Lizzie to bound over and plop down on his lap, snuggling into his side. He adjusted the laptop on the arm of the chair so he could continue to examine the spreadsheets he had been reviewing.
"Hi, Papa, how's work?"
"Hi Elizabeth. Work is fine. Can you sit quietly and allow me to finish while your momma talks to Lewis?"
"Yes, Papa," the little girl said before letting out a yawn. James' eyebrow perked up but he didn't remark, instead going back to his work.
"Come here, Lewis, darling, and tell me about your prize. Where did you find this beauty?" Lillian said, holding out her arm to her son.
Lewis slowly approached, eyes on the ground, and moved just close enough for his mother to put her arm around his shoulder. He shrugged as he got closer. "Found it down by the creek, Momma."
"Oh, that was quite a ways off to be exploring. Do you have your necklace with you?"
"Yes, Momma. And Lizzie has hers, I made sure of it." Lewis said, pulling the chain out from under his t-shirt, revealing a small square device. With the children enjoying their explorations of the mountainside, Lillian had insisted they both learn proper safety measures and also always be equipped with a GPS-enabled device in case they got lost. Both devices were also equipped with a panic button, should an emergency arise, their parents' phones would be alerted immediately.
"That's my sweet boy, always looking out for his sister. Just like your daddy, always concerned about others' safety. I really think this is quite the find, Lewis. We should go down together later to see if you might have stumbled upon a site of an indigenous tribe. They're scattered all over the mountains. Perhaps we could let Professor Belkin have a look. What do you say?"
Lewis' little face, normally downcast and without much emotion, lit up. "You'll go down with me, Momma? It's my favorite spot." He then looked down at the arrowhead. "If we let Professor Belkin see it, am I going to have to give it away, or might I get it back?"
Lillian looked fondly at the boy. "It will all depend on what the professor thinks. But if you've found something important, your name might possibly be in a paper he writes one day."
Lewis' eyes went wide. "Really?"
"Yes, really." Lillian looked over at her husband. The young boy was much what she would have imagined James might have been like when he was a boy. Reserved, quiet, and sensitive. When he did speak it was always the truth, and sometimes more truth than what people wanted to hear.
James' father had never let him explore the mountainside near their home, so James was happy to have his own children allowed to explore when they weren't doing their schoolwork—a task that Lillian and James had decided to take on for themselves. Their own careers afforded them the time, and they felt it was important for their extremely unique children to be given the opportunity to explore their education in the way that best suited them individually.
Lewis sauntered slowly over to his father, who was now working with a sleeping Lizzie on his lap. "Papa, would you come down to my spot with Momma to look for more arrowheads?"
James glanced at Lillian, who smiled at "her two boys" as she called them, then he looked back to his son. "Of course I will, Lewis. Perhaps we can show your momma how you learned to skip rocks in the creek."
Lewis' eyes grew wide again and he nodded enthusiastically. His mother cleared her throat and motioned Lewis back over. "Would you like to paint a picture of your arrowhead, Lewis?"
"Yes, Momma." Lewis nodded and Lillian got up to set up a piece of paper on one of the two matching smaller easels that were placed near hers.
"Go get your paints then. You can paint for a bit while your sister seems to be content napping on her father." She then gave a questioning look to James. "You alright there or do I need to move her?"
"Don't wake the sleeping giant," James said, a deadpan expression on his face as he carefully examined the spreadsheet on his computer screen.
Lillian giggled quietly and nodded.
Lewis stopped halfway back to his easel and looked between his mother and father. "Did Papa just call Lizzie a sleeping giant? She's only a half inch taller than me."
Lillian smiled at her son. "It's just an expression, sweetie. Now come and show me how you've learned to mix your paints to get the colors you need."
**—**—**
That night, just before dinner time, Lizzie and Lewis set the table. Lizzie was rather haphazardly placing the plates and glasses out, with Lewis following along behind her adjusting them to their proper spots and setting the silverware precisely where they should go.
A knock at the door sent Lizzie off running. A few moments later, James and Lillian heard a commotion from the front entrance. "There's my namesake! Hello, sweet girl!" Beth exclaimed, and Lizzie giggled as she got tickled.
"Hi Aunt Beth, Hi Aunt Jackie!" Lizzie squealed in excitement.
Beth and Jackie came walking into the room and Lillian came around to hug them both. "Ah, there's Thelma and Louise," Lillian chuckled.
Beth had moved into town a few months after the wedding. Just as Lillian had predicted, she had decided that without her best friend, there wasn't much left keeping her in the city. Jackie had offered to rent her the room in her house long term and the two of them had continued their friendship and were often trying to find dates for each other.
Beth's move to Byerton was fortunate for Lillian for several reasons—Lillian now relied on Beth not only as a friend, but also at work. It had been ten years since she signed the partnership agreement with Bill McKay. Three years ago, however, Bill was given a bleak prognosis when diagnosed with cancer. He sold his share of the gallery to Lillian shortly before he died. Now Beth worked full time at the studio, teaching classes to the younger students and assisting with studio operations while Lillian managed both sides of the operation and had a bigger role in maintaining exhibits in the gallery. She often worked from home so she could care for the children, so Beth was vital to the workings of the gallery and studio.
Lewis walked up to his father in the kitchen while he cooked dinner and tugged on his shirt. "Papa, why did Momma call Beth and Aunt Jackie 'Thelma and Louise'? Has she forgotten their names?"
"No, Lewis. Your mother was referring to them as characters from a movie. The two characters are best friends who get into trouble together."
"Oh," Lewis said. "Well that does sound like Aunt Beth and Aunt Jackie."
James smirked. "It does, doesn't it? Lewis, would you like to help me with filling the glasses with ice and water tonight?"
Lewis' eyes went wide. "Are you sure, Papa?"
"Yes."
Lewis took a deep breath and started bringing the glasses one by one over to the refrigerator to fill them with ice and water.
James was busy with finishing meal preparations. Lillian had gotten distracted talking with Beth and Jackie about the latest show at the gallery. Lizzie was hanging off of Beth's arm, swinging playfully.
Suddenly they all heard a crash and shattering glass.
James almost dropped the pan he had been shaking over the stove. Lizzie quickly dropped to the floor.
James was the first to his son's side. Lillian wasn't far behind. James sat cross-legged on the floor cradling his son, who was curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth. Two glasses lay in shattered pieces on the floor.
"Is he okay, did he get cut?" Lillian asked frantically.
"I don't think so," James said quietly.
Lillian attempted to check out her son's hands and feet from the curled-up position he was in.
"Ssshhhh, sssshhhh," James quietly hushed his son. "It's okay. It's okay, Lewis. Hush now. It's okay."
Jackie had jumped into action, grabbing the dustpan and brushing up all the broken glass, dumping it into the trash can, then went to the stove to be sure nothing burned.
Lillian sat on her knees by her husband, rubbing his back and her son's.
"Lizzie, how about we go to your desk so you can show me your work for the week?" Beth asked the young girl, hoping to distract her while her parents calmed their son.
"Lewis, sweetie. It's okay. Your papa and I aren't upset with you."
"But I tried to carry two glasses at once, and they slipped, and I broke them. I'm sorry, Papa. I'm sorry, Momma. I can't do anything right," the sweet, young boy cried out.
Lillian's heart broke. Before she could respond, her husband took over.
"Lewis Benjamin McMillan, look at me," he said, in a quiet yet stern voice. His son, shaking through his whole body, slowly looked up at his father, unsure of what to expect from the use of his full name. But James didn't use it out of anger, he knew it was the only way to take his son's hyper-focused attention off his mistake. "Lewis, are people allowed to make mistakes?"
"Yes, Papa."
"And are you a person?"
"Yes, Papa."
"So, you are allowed to make mistakes. It isn't about if we make mistakes or not, it's about if we learn from them. What have you learned from this mistake?" the gentle giant of a man quietly asked his son as his wife looked on in awe.
Lewis looked down at his lap, and snuggled into his father's embrace a bit further. "That I can't carry two glasses at the same time."
"Yet. You can't do it yet. But you'll get stronger and one day soon you'll be able to. Don't let your mistakes keep you from ever trying again, Lewis. Learn from them and grow because of them. Okay, son?"
"Yes, Papa."
"Why don't you go take Aunt Jackie in and show her and Beth your school work, too? Momma and I will finish up in here."
The young boy sniffled as started to shift in his father's lap. "Okay, Papa."
"I love you, Lewis."
"I love you too, Papa." The boy climbed out of his father's arms and moved over to his mother, wrapping his arms around her neck. "I love you, Momma."
"I love you too, Lewis," Lillian said, trying her best not to let the tears break through.
Lewis took his Aunt Jackie's hand, not paying attention to the fact that she too was teary-eyed after listening to her brother's lesson to his son.
James and Lillian both got up and he brushed off the back and front of his pants before he was caught in the embrace of his wife. She buried her head in his chest. "That might have been the most amazing thing I've ever heard you say."
James wrapped his arms around his wife, happily accepting her affection openly now after almost ten years of marriage. "Were the wedding vows I wrote that bad?"
"Shush," she said, batting him on the arm before leaning back and looking up at him. "Tell me where that came from?" she asked as she leaned back to look up at him.
He shrugged it off a bit, though he honestly answered. "Something similar happened when I was Lewis' age."
"And?"
"I think it took several days for the imprint of my father's hands to fade off my arms. He grabbed me and shook me and called me ugly names."
Lillian closed her eyes and shook her head, the pain in her heart overwhelming her. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. That man was evil."
"I never want to be anything like him."
"You are nothing like him, James. I still remember, you were so worried about being a father..."
**—**—**
James normally wouldn't answer a ringing phone in the middle of the day. Normally, he wouldn't even look at it to see who was calling until lunch time. But 'normally' went out the window when he started dating Lillian. And flew even further away when they married. Now, he at least checked to see who it was. Of course, there was only one number he answered.
"Hi Lill," he said, as he continued scanning the spreadsheet open on his screen for vital information.
"Hey love, busy?"
"I am working."
"Yes, of course. Sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you. I'll talk to you when I get home."
He frowned and stopped looking at the numbers on the screen, turning away from the computer in his office chair. "No. What is it? Something's bothering you. You never call when I'm working unless something is wrong."
"I just—I've been thinking." She tried to laugh, but he could tell it was nervous laughter. "And I'm positively distracted here at work thinking about it."
"About what?"
"We never talked about—before we got married—we never talked about... do you want to have kids?" she finally blurted out the question.
"Are you pregnant? You shouldn't be pregnant. We take care of that—right?"
She laughed nervously again, "Of course I'm not, no. I just—I was working with a school group today and the kids made me think about it—we never discussed that."
"No."
"No, we didn't," she said, thinking she was finishing his thought.
"No, I mean—No, I don't want to have kids," he said bluntly.
"Oh. Okay. Well, I've got to go—someone's coming in. Bye," she spoke quickly.
"Lill, wait—" She hung up. This was bad. She had caught him off guard and he had answered honestly. But there was more to his answer than he had the chance to explain.
Should he call her back? Should he go into town and visit her at the gallery?
He spun back around in his chair to face his desk and computer. Soon, he got distracted by the numbers on the screen and was deep back into work.
It was hours later, as he finished up, that he realized he hadn't called her back. He was suddenly nervous and a habit he had almost lost since marrying her cropped back up. His fist clenched tight. She'd be home in an hour and he had no idea what her mood would be. Would she be upset? Angry? Would this be the thing that made her change her mind about spending the rest of her life with him?
He started dinner earlier than he normally would, and changed his normally scheduled menu, instead preparing her favorites—steak, mashed potatoes, green beans. He even found time to bake chocolate chip cookies. He was pulling out all the stops. Just in case.
When Lillian got out of Jackie's car at the house, she saw James sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. She took a deep breath, doing her best to hide the turmoil she had been in all day.
"Hi, love. How was your day?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.
"Work was okay," he answered slowly. "I was—distracted."
"Oh?" she said as she came up the two stairs to the porch.
James stood and met her before she got to the door. It was already getting dark out and even with the light coming through the house windows, she could barely make out his face.
"I was worried. About you," he said in way of explanation as he took another step closer to her.
"Me? Why me?" she asked, hoping if she acted ignorant he would let it pass.
"Because of your question," he said, pausing before he continued, "Because of my answer to your question."
She looked down, at his chest. Most certainly not into his eyes. Because if there was one thing she had learned in this marriage already it was that if she looked into his eyes, she'd melt. Even in the darkness she was sure he'd be able to see into her soul if she looked him in the eye. He was only inches away and if she just lifted her hand she would be touching his chest, and then he would embrace her, and she was certain she'd fall apart. Instead she remained rigid, steeling herself from the innate desire to reach out to him. "It's okay. You're allowed to not want children, James. It's funny, really, if you think about it, that it didn't come up before we got married," she said, the nervous laughter returning that he had heard on the phone earlier.
"It doesn't seem very funny to me," he said with a frown, "and I don't think it's very funny to you, either. You're just saying that."
She sighed. "Look—James—can we just go in?"
"Look at me," he said in quiet demand.
"James, please—" she tried to edge around him, but he stepped in her way again. "James!" she raised her voice in exclamation.
"Lillian!" he said, voice rising as well. "Look at me."
Lillian took a deep breath and attempted to prepare herself, turning up her chin to look him in the eye. She was trying very hard to hold it together, really she was.
"Lill." James said, heart twisting in his chest over what he saw in her eyes. He saw well beyond the facade she was trying to hide behind. "I need to explain my answer to you. You didn't let me explain."
"O-okay," she said, her voice shaky.
He slowly raised his hands, resting them on her arms gently. "I've never been around children. Never. Unless they were with their parents behind me in line at the grocery store, or passing me on the street. Never. I don't know how to act, how to talk, how to—care—for a child. The experience of my childhood is of a cruel abusive, drunken father. One whom I would never, ever, want to be anything remotely like. I wouldn't know what to do with a child, much less how to be father to one. I'm—I'm a broken, disabled man—I'm not capable of caring for a child."
Lillian's face went from showing hurt, to compassion, to confusion, to anger. She pushed past him into the house and he followed quickly behind. As she dropped her book bag down by the front door, she swung around and spoke angrily to him, "That is your father speaking. You are not broken. You are not disabled. You are the most caring, loving, compassionate man I know. There is no one else on this planet I would want to be the father of my children. If you don't want to have children, James, that's fine, I'll have to come to grips with that. But don't let it be because of some nasty lies your father fed to you twenty years ago."
With that she stomped up the stairs, leaving him speechless in the small foyer of their home. She was angry. More with his dead father than with him. That evil man had kept his grip on his son all these years, and while there were no more physical bruises, the emotional scars were long-lasting and Lillian had been battling them since the day she met him.
James stared after her. Moments after she reached the top of the staircase, a door slammed. He gave her one minute. He glanced towards the dining room where candlelight was shining from the table and took a deep breath. Exactly sixty seconds after the door had slammed he made his way up the stairs. He stopped at their doorway and took a deep breath, hand poised at the door, knuckles ready to tap on it. Another deep breath and he knocked. "Lill? Lill, can I come in? Please?"
"It's your room, too."
Not exactly the acceptance he had been hoping for, but it would have to do. He slowly opened the door. The room was dark, except for pale, blue light coming in from the night sky. He could see her though, as his eyes adjusted, sitting up on their bed, back against the headboard, knees up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them.
"I'm sorry I upset you."
"I'm sorry I got angry. It isn't your fault that your father was a soulless jerk."
That actually made James snort. Which made Lillian give a small smile. And that gave James hope, which was all he needed.
Lillian continued, "I just wish he didn't still have a hold on you."
James came over, sitting on the edge of the bed and turned towards her, one leg tucked up under the other. "I don't want him to."
She sat up, straightening her legs and getting closer to him. She cupped his cheek in her palm. He closed his eyes at the warmth of her touch. She whispered to him, "Then stop thinking such horrible things about yourself." James looked down and sighed, and she continued, "I know it isn't as easy as just turning it off. But—just look at you. You designed and helped build this beautiful home, you work every day at a job you love. You cook, you clean, you garden, you drive, you are loved in your community and you have a wife that loves and adores you, and whom you love very well, in more ways than one," she said the last part with a cheeky grin that made him blush. Then she continued, "You are a successful man that has become a thousand times the man your father ever was."
"You really think that?"
"I really know that. I will spend the rest of my life trying to convince you of it, if necessary." With that she leaned over and kissed him.
When she pulled back, it took a moment before James opened his eyes. He swore he'd never grow used to her kissing him. "I've made you a special dinner." He stood and held his hand out to her. "Come with me?"
**—**—**
A few days after that fateful night of their first argument James made up his mind and told Lillian that night as they lay in bed reading.
"Could I come and spend time at the gallery with you? When you're doing your classes for young children?"
"I don't see why not." She then stopped reading, realizing the oddness of his question, and put the art magazine she had been reading down on her lap. "Why?"
"If I'm to be a father, I should get some practice in being around young children," he said, book still up as if he were reading, so matter-of-factly, that it almost passed by her. She gasped and practically pounced on him.
"Really?"
He smiled. "Yes."
"You want to have children with me?"
"Well, I certainly don't want to have them with anyone else. But...we can take our time...right? Are you in a rush to have children soon?"
Lillian was ecstatic by this turn of events. "No, no, of course not. We've not even been married a year yet. There's plenty of time. I'm just so happy to know you want to do this. You're sure? You want to do this?"
They both let out a short giggle before James pulled her down to snuggle next to him and kissed her on the forehead. "Yes. I want to have children with you. I want you to be the mother of my children." He took a deep breath. "And I want to be a father."
**—**—**
"...You are an amazing father," she said, looking up at the man who had just soothed and encouraged his own autistic son. The man who, at one time in his own life, was convinced he wouldn't know what to "do" with a child. "Imagine. What would our life have been like had you not decided to give fatherhood a go?"
At just that moment, they heard a crash from the other room and Lizzie let out an "Oops!"
James sighed. "Well, it certainly would be quieter. With a lot less broken things."
"It's okay, Momma can fix that vase at the gallery! She's already had to do it twice. I seem to keep tripping and knocking it over," Lizzie exclaimed loudly to her aunt.
"Well perhaps if you weren't always running around, Lizzie, you wouldn't trip," Lewis said sternly to his sister.
"Where's the fun in that?" Lizzie said back.
"Come on, Lizzie, let's clean up this mess," Jackie said.
James and Lillian just shook their heads and smiled as they went back to finishing up dinner. It had taken a year and a half, and a miscarriage, before she had gotten pregnant with the twins, and after enduring the fear that perhaps they weren't going to be able to have children, their two unique children were the gift they both would always be thankful for. No matter how many glasses or vases ever broke in their house.