Fiction with a Touch of Truth and a Lot of Love

Free, a Novella full cover

When I began writing Free, a Novella in early spring of 2016, it was supposed to be a 3-4 installment short story with Lenore Porter remembering the breakdown of her marriage as she finalizes the sale of her home.

Honestly, it was writing practice.

I was working on my debut novel, In the Best Interest of the Child and kept stalling out and hitting walls. So, Free was supposed to be a little pseudo-flash fiction to keep me writing.

I posted the second installment and had already began the ending of Lenore’s story, when on April 8, 2016, my mister went into renal failure. His kidneys could not be saved and everything changed from that day forward… the addition of hemodialysis, his employment status, his diet, his daily medication regimen… and my stress level.

As I sat in hospital rooms, dialysis units, and doctor’s offices over the next few weeks, Lenore Porter’s story changed too. Best Interest was still my focus, but Lenore would not be ignored.

I continued to post installments of varying lengths on my author page, but the once-a-week postings died a quick death. I moved the release date of Best Interest twice and attempted to push Lenore’s story to the back burner.

The mister’s fistula implant was a problem from the beginning, making dialysis difficult. By the time we’d made all the rounds for MRIs, ultrasounds and vascular procedures and found some semblance of normalcy, it was Halloween. Best Interest was published and I was exhausted. And… Lennie Porter was standing in the corner giving me the duckface.

I didn’t have much of a current word count for Free, but what I did have was sixty-one pages of notes!

As I organized and typed up the notes, the story continued to change.

It was clear by the time I had a working MS, oldest son Duncan Porter would need counseling to get past his issues with his absent father to avoid lasting emotional trauma.

As a character-driven writer, I generally sketch out characters before adding them to any story.

That wasn’t necessary this time.

While Free, a Novella is a work of fiction, the characters of psychologist James Richie and his wife/receptionist, Alice, are not fictional characters.

James ‘Pas’ Richie was my mentor, father-confessor, co-conspirator in epic pranks, and at one time, my boss. He and Alice were like family and can be seen as often in my family photo albums as my mother.

Pas Mom and Alice

James ‘Pas’ Richie on the left, Alice Richie on the right, and my mom, Helen, in the center. It’s obvious by his expression that Pas was quite a character.

In Free, Pas, is a retired minister with a successful practice in clinical psychology specializing in treating men and boys.

In real life, Pas was a minister for the West Michigan Conference of the United Methodist Church. However, he didn’t receive the call to the ministry until well after his fiftieth birthday and put aside his career and degree in chemistry to enter the seminary.

It wasn’t long after Pas received his appointment to a Battle Creek church the community considered him “the city’s pastor.” (This was about the same time I gave him the nickname ‘Pas.’)

You didn’t have to attend his church… or any church… for Pas to lend a helping hand. Many who regularly attended other churches would find their way to his office when needing to talk.

And he would listen.

I don’t know if Pas solved any of their problems.

But I do know they left with a smile and a, “Thank you, pastor.”

He’d always respond with a hug and his trademark, “Peace & Blessings!”

Like Lenore Porter’s parents, Burt and Linda Kelimore, Pas and Alice were together over fifty years.

And the banter was epic!

In addition to his pastoral duties, Pas was the executive director of a local community outreach ministry, and Alice was a regular volunteer.

The days when Alice came in were the best days!

Staff would all suddenly find reasons to be near Pas’ office for another episode of what I dubbed “The Pas and Alice Show!”

Their banter was amazing, rocket fast… and hilarious.

Of course, Alice always won, but Pas wasn’t about let her have the last word and would always end with something like, “You’re adorable! I’m taking you to lunch!”

Over the years, through trials and tribulations in both our families, the Richie banter was an anchor for us all—as long as we could still laugh, everything would be okay–and their marriage was the model for couples newly married or married for decades.

After almost ten years, life broke up our small family circle, taking us in different directions, but the Richies and I stayed in regular—my children would say constant—contact.

Plans were put in motion for them to visit Arizona after Pas retired, which he did in January 2015. After a short search, Pas and Alice relocated to a small town in central Georgia which put them close to their three children and grandchildren.

Pas became ill while he and Alice were getting settled with what was first believed to be an upper respiratory infection.

It wasn’t.

The next year would see Pas hospitalized… and in a coma for several months.

But being the incredible man he was, James Richie came out of the coma, moved to a rehab center and learned to walk and talk again. He was discharged and went home to regain his driving privileges. He even went back to swimming three times a week.

Pas and Alice

Even a coma couldn’t keep Pas down for long.

Pas and Alice took a vacation to visit their children, and attended several social events, including one held by my family in Georgia.

I was encouraged. Alice said he still had a long road ahead of him to regain his strength, but they would get to Arizona.

Things in Arizona weren’t going as well.

Dialysis was still difficult for the mister and his blood pressure stayed at stroke levels despite several daily medications.

Alice called one evening and knew by my tone of voice something was wrong. We talked quite a while. I ended the call with a promise to call her in a couple of days after the mister saw a vascular surgeon.

Of course, she told Pas.

He called early the next morning.

Though the mass found at the base of his throat was benign, he still wasn’t strong enough for surgery to remove it. And it caused other problems. His voice was raw raspy and it hurt me to hear him speak. I tried to rush him off the phone. But Pas wasn’t having it.

He called to pray with me and the mister… and he did.

It was the last time I talked to him. Ten days later, he was gone… June 14, 2016.

Loss is a part of life and we all experience it. I’d already lost my father and a brother, but when Alice called me with the news, something inside me broke.

Suffice it to say, I managed to keep it together enough to take care of the mister, but I lost the fight with depression and spiraled for over three months.

This is why the release date for Best Interest was delayed… twice.

This is also why (and how) Pas and Alice became part of Free.

It took another four months to complete Free. Not because it’s long, in-depth or complicated. It was simply very emotional.

And it was cathartic.

I didn’t tell my family I’d added a bit of real life to Free until it was completed, and I still didn’t allow them to read it. I published it on May 30th and immediately began the formatting for print.

I received the proofs a week later. I signed a copy, stuck a note inside and sent it to Alice Richie.

I hadn’t told her what I’d done either. I was a little nervous with it being the first anniversary of Pas’ passing, but pushed it to the back of my mind and tried to concentrate on writing.

I was caught off guard a couple of weeks later when I answered my phone without looking at the caller ID… something I never do.

It was Alice…laughing… and crying, and screaming, “Girl, you nailed us!”

I laughed with her, and did some crying of my own when she said, “Richie would love it. And he would be so proud of you.”

It wasn’t an instant cure-all, but for the first time in a year, thinking of my dear friend didn’t cause me pain. Alice’s words were the best review I’ll ever receive for Free… and that’s enough for me.

Pas and Fle

Memorial Day Weekend 2012 at the Richie home in Cassopolis, Michigan. It was our last time together. I moved to Arizona two weeks later.

So, if by chance you read Free, just remember James and Alice Richie aren’t fictional characters and their dialogue isn’t scripted or contrived. Their words were real, spoken in another time when life was a little easier and less burdensome.

Peace & Blessings.

This was one of Pas’ favorite songs.

Disclaimer: I have no copyrights to the song and/or video and/or hyperlinks to songs and/or videos directly above. No copyright infringement intended.

The Journey of “Free, a Novella” by Felicia Denise

Lennie's letter

It’s been a year since we first met Lenore Porter.

We’ve read her words, watched her struggles, and felt her pain.

As Lennie attempts to make peace with the past, she questions her own motivations, and her own heart, determined to give her three sons the best life possible. She’s sure didn’t always make the best decisions, but she made them for the right reasons.

Today’s installment is short, but it’s an insight into a side of Lennie not yet explored during this online journey – Lennie, the woman.

While it is short, it is not the end. Tomorrow, Friday, May 12th, the cover for “Free, a Novella” will be revealed. Free is coming to an ereader near you soon!

To Be Continued


Free, a Novella

by Felicia Denise

Part X

The two women worked together in silence on opposite sides of the large kitchen island. Linda Kelimore stirred the peach filling, tasting and adding more sugar, while Lennie readied the dough pockets for the fried pies.

“I’m pretty sure that dough is sorry.”

Lennie paused from punching and rolling the dough and frowned.

“Huh? What?” She looked down at the pastry circles on the floured counter. “Sorry for what?”

“For whatever reason, you’re abusing it like that!” Linda smirked. “We’ve made fried pies together dozens of times, and I can’t remember you ever punching the dough down so many times. “

Lennie’s face heated hearing her mother’s words. Laying the rolling pin aside, she wiped her hands and grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. After several sips, she looked pointedly at her mother.

“Is it normal for married couples to not have sex?”

Linda continued stirring the large pan of fruit but regarded her daughter with an understanding smile.

“Yes, it is.”

Eyes widening, Lennie sat the bottle of water on the counter and leaned toward Linda Kelimore.

“Are you messing with me, Mom? How is it normal?”

Covering the pot with a lid, Linda removed it from the stove top burner and set it aside to cool.

“Marriage is between two people, honey. Two flawed, imperfect people who make mistakes, forget special dates, and can sometimes be incredible pains-in-the-ass.” Linda chuckled at her own comment. “So much goes on in life’s day-to-day routine, of course, there will times when sex isn’t even a consideration.”

Lennie’s expression blanched, her eyes wide in disbelief. “I guess… I… never really thought about it that way.”

“Of course, you didn’t. You’re a young woman. A newlywed chasing the happily-ever-after.” Her eyes flared to match the wicked grin on her face. “You’re still living in the days of your husband rushing in from work, ripping your clothes off, and taking you right in the middle of the living room floor.”

Horrified, Lennie backed away from the counter, holding her hands up in front of her. “Enough, mom! This just got awkward!”

Linda popped from around the island counter, dancing toward her daughter. “How is this awkward, sweetie? We’re just two old married ladies discussing life!” Wiggling her eyebrows, the older woman gracefully slid from side to side, dropped into a squat and bounced back up, perfectly executing the Cabbage Patch.

Brushing off her mother’s previous statement, Lennie grinned. “Wow, mom! Didn’t know you could still move like that! You got some moves!”

Still dancing to the music in her head, Linda twirled gleefully, melting away the years. “Thank you, sweetie! You know your dad and I always loved to dance. That man really has the moves on… and off the dance floor.”

Screaming, Lenore Porter clamped her hands over her ears. “Mom! TMI! TMI! This conversation is over!” She watched her mother dance in her direction and Lennie turned and fled from the kitchen in a very quick waddle.

Laughing to herself, eyes still on the door her pregnant daughter just hurried through, Linda plopped down on a counter bar stool. She was proud of her performance. She succeeded in taking Lennie’s mind off her troubles… if only for a little while.

Linda wasn’t a fan of Ranard Porter. If she were being honest, she didn’t like him and felt he was not the man her daughter needed. But it wasn’t her call. Lennie chose and married him. In a few weeks, the young couple would be new parents. No matter what her personal feelings were, Linda would never do anything to hurt her oldest child.

And Ranard had better not either.


Catch up of Free using the links below!

(Links open in new window.)

Part I    Part II    Part III

Part IV    Part V    Part VI

Part VII    Part VIII    Part IX

©Felicia Denise, 2016, 2017

“Free, A Novella Part IX”

Lennie's letter

“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise

Part IX

Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, Lennie stared across the empty living room. The day Duncan ran from her had been one of her most painful. He had always been a high-spirited child. More prone to wander, break a rule, or lead his younger brothers astray. However, he’d never done anything that warranted more than a time-out. Duncan had never been cruel to anyone or deliberately put anyone in harm’s way. Had someone told Lennie the argument in the high school parking lot with her son would take place, she would have thought them crazy.

But it did happen.

Insistent on not entering counseling, Duncan had run from Lennie. The anger building inside her at his disrespectful tone dissipated immediately at her last glimpse of his eyes. Confusion. Pain. And fear. Lennie had seen it all in her son’s face and was even more determined to get him to a therapist. She would not allow this to scar his life…not if she could help. Ranard had received no help for the verbally abusive childhood he had because of his father. Lennie knew his failures as a husband and father were directly related to his relationship with his father.

Duncan deserved a better life.

The memory seemed to be on rewind in Lennie’s mind. Sitting in her Chevy Tahoe, still taking glances in the direction Duncan had taken. She wanted him to come back…but knew he wouldn’t. The despair Lennie knew he felt would now be enhanced by the shame of his behavior with her.

Still thinking about the situation with her eldest son, Lenore Porter absently drove home. Pulling her vehicle into the garage, she exited and went through the garage’s rear entrance to her back door…and found Duncan sitting in an old swing. He shook his head slowly without meeting her gaze.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“I’m glad you’re safe, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t have run away like that.”

“You were feeling overwhelmed. Looks like you still are.”

“I’m not crazy, mama…I’m not.”

Lennie’s chest tightened. He had not called her that since second grade. Sitting her bag at the bag door, Lennie walked over and took the swing next to Duncan. They both silently rocked for a few minutes.

“Most people who go to counseling aren’t mentally ill, Dunc. Life just has a way of dumping too much on us at once,” she touched his hand, “the drowning feeling you mentioned? That’s where it comes from. It happens to us all at some point during our lives.”

“Have you ever felt like you were drowning, mom?”

“Not drowning so much as helpless.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, don’t take this as clinical or anything, but I knew the problem, and I knew the cause. I just couldn’t fix it.”

“Dad.” It was a statement, not a question.

Lennie’s smile was bittersweet. “Yes.”

“He hasn’t been very nice to you, mom.” Taking a deep breath, Duncan continued. “But you never gave up. You’ve always been…mom.”

“Darlin, the obstacle doesn’t exist that could separate me from my Porter Patrol. Good days or bad, you and your brothers always got the best of me, and you always will. I couldn’t give you the stereotyped version of a good family life, but I tried to make sure you have a good life. I don’t think we’ve done too badly. This is a bump in the road, and-”

“Can you make me another appointment with the shrink?” Duncan laughed at the smirk on her face. “Okay, okay. Counselor, therapist…whatever. I still don’t want to go, but I’ve let you down enough.” He looked at his feet.

“Duncan? Lennie didn’t speak again until he looked at her. “You have never let me down. You’re sixteen years old and going through a bad time because of the actions of adults. You haven’t done anything wrong. But this is something you must want. You cannot do it for me, baby. You don’t have to want to go to counseling…you have to want to get better and be your old self again.”

“So, you’ll make the appointment?”



“We haven’t missed today’s appointment yet.”


“I was picking you up from school early – to give us time to talk before the appointment.” Lennie looked at her watch. “We’ll just make it. Run in and wash up and change your shirt. I’ll wait right here.”

Nodding, the teen stood and headed for the back door, but turned suddenly. He walked back and kissed his mother’s forehead, and still silent, headed into the house.

Smiling as he kissed her, Lenore’s smile faded instantly as Duncan walked away. Her son was angry…and afraid. The past had scarred them all.



With ten minutes to spare, the Porters entered the restored Victorian home bearing the address of James Richie’s therapy practice. Neither of them knew what to expect, but Lennie watched Duncan visibly relax as they walked through the reception area. The muted earth tones and overstuffed furniture gave the office a homey feel. A low counter ran the length of the room, and an older, African-American woman sat behind it, finishing a phone call. Turning to greet them with a warm smile, Lennie was momentarily taken aback.

Auntie Di.

The resemblance to her deceased aunt was incredible. Diane Clayton had worn her dark brown/gray hair in a simple flip for most of Lennie’s life. This woman wore her salt and pepper hair a short, natural style. Other than the hair, the two women would have been twins.

“You must be Duncan Porter.”

He smiled, ducking his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lenore stifled a laugh at the shy guy her big kid had suddenly become.

“Nice to meet you, Duncan. I’m Alice.” She turned to Lennie. “And you have to be Mrs. Porter.”

“Yes, but call me Lennie, please. Nice to meet you, Alice.”

Handing Lennie a clipboard of documents, Alice lowered her voice. “I have the new client packet all ready for you, and take your time with it. Do not rush. You’re on time for your appointment, but my husband never is.”

Duncan laughed aloud. “You’re Dr. Richie’s wife?”

“Young man, do not call him ‘Dr. Richie’. He’s already impossible to live with. If you call him that, he’s going to want me to call him that…and that’s not going to happen.”

Lennie laughed with her son this time.

“But, yes. We’ve been married for nearly forty-five years. Forty-five…long…years.”

“What should I call him?”

“Well, some of the clients call him Dr. James, and some Dr. Jim. The older clients simply call him James. But he’s a retired pastor, and most of his clients just call him ‘Pas’.”

“Pas. I like that.” Still nodding to himself, Duncan joined his mother who was already seated completing the paperwork.

Fighting the urge to look at her son, Lennie could still tell he was not the same boy she’d found in their backyard. If his wife was this good at putting patients at ease, Lennie was cautiously optimistic at what James Richie could do for Duncan.



New client packet completed, Lennie and Duncan sat quietly discussing ideas for dinner, when a door on the far side of the room opened.

A teenage boy a couple of years younger than Duncan appeared first. His thick dark hair was just long enough in the back to curl towards his collar, but in the front long dark curls nearly covered his eyes.

But you couldn’t miss the smile on his face.

A couple followed him, older than Lennie, and they also seemed quite pleased.

The last figure through the door was an extremely tall and bald African-American man. He moved easily through the reception area, calling out to the boy.

“Remember what I told you, Jonah. Bring that report card with you next time. And Jonah? Help your uncle with the yard work, okay?”

Jonah was standing at the counter, having already retrieved a card from Alice for his next appointment.

“I will, Pas. I promised Uncle Todd I’d do the whole front yard on my own. And oh man, you are gonna love my report card! Who knew all this time I was a genius!”

The couple with Jonah laughed. The man, who must have been Uncle Todd, reached for the woman’s hand. “C’mon, Nina. I’m in the mood for Mexican food, and I’ll bet I can eat more tacos than this scrawny kid.”

“Tacos? Yeah!” Jonah rushed towards the door, and it was then he noticed Duncan for the first time.

“Hey. I’ve never seen you here before. You new?”

Duncan nodded. “Yeah. First time here.”

Tilting his head towards the counselor, Jonah held Duncan’s gaze. “He’s a good guy. If he can help me, he can help anyone.” The teen’s eyes momentarily became dark and reflected a pain no one his age should know. “I was pretty messed up.” Rebounding just as quickly, Jonah grinned. “But now I’m going to show my uncle who the real taco king is!”

Jonah bounded toward the door his uncle was holding open and froze. Turning to Duncan, he added, “And if he cons you into bringing him candy, make sure it’s sugar-free. He’s diabetic.”

“I’ll thank you to leave now and stop telling my business!”

Everyone in the office laughed as the family left. Everyone except Alice Richie.

“Don’t give me that look, Alice.”

“You’ve been eating candy. As I look back, the spikes in your blood sugar all make sense now. Always at the end of the day…after seeing certain clients.

“You heard Jonah. It was sugar-free…mostly.” James Richie pointed his finger at his wife in mock consternation. “This is all your fault!”

Alice smirked, looking over the tops of her glasses at the Porters. “Here we go.”

Strutting around the desk where Alice was sitting, the counselor preened. “I was a strapping, young, handsome lad-”

“You were never a lad.”

“Don’t interrupt my story. As I was saying. I was a strapping, young, handsome LAD,” he glared at his wife emphasizing the last word, “when I met this pretty little flower.”

Alice struck a pose, batting her eyelashes. Lennie and her son had stopped trying to cover their mouths and stifle their laughter.

“She was super smart with a kind, compassionate heart. And, had no problem putting me in my place.”

“Someone had to…might as well be me.”

“See how she is? I knew I’d found the love of my life…I just had to convince her of that.” He gestured in Alice’s direction. “And as you can see, I did.”

His wife smiled lovingly at James, shaking her head at his antics.

“While we were dating, I found out Alice was diabetic. I didn’t know much about diabetes at the time. Especially that it was contagious!”

Lennie frowned. “What? I know very little about the disease, but my background is in nutrition and food sci-”

“Oh yes, it’s true. After we were married, guess who became diabetic?” The retired pastor’s dancing eyebrows made Duncan laugh aloud.

“And you ‘caught’ it from your wife?” Lennie smirked, not hiding her skepticism.

“I wasn’t diabetic before we were married, and now I am. You do the math.”

Duncan scrubbed his hand down his face next to his mother who was shaking her head.

Alice Richie shrugged. “What did I tell you? Forty-five…long…years.”

Glaring at his wife while taking the file she was holding out to him, James walked over to the Porters, bowing.

“By now you know I’m James Richie. Please do not let anything you’ve witnessed concern you. I’m good at my job…and my wife is a bully.”

“A bully who will be eating dinner alone at this rate.”

“See how she treats me?” He motioned toward his office. “I’d better get you away from her. She’s cutting back on coffee this week and it’s starting to wear on her.”

A laughing Duncan Porter heads towards the office, but Lennie remains seated. James frowns.

“Aren’t you coming, Mrs. Porter?”

“But…this appointment is for my son. I don’t want to…intrude.”

“Mom?” Rolling his eyes dramatically, Duncan walks back to her and reaches out his hand.

“Perfectly understandable, Mrs. Porter-”

“It’s Lennie. Or Lenore.”

“Okay…Lennie, it is. Should he decide to continue to work with me, sessions will be between Duncan and myself. But I like to use the first visit…and sometimes the second one to get to know clients and their families. So, please…join us.”

Trying to shake her own fears and anxiety, Lennie accepted her son’s still outstretched hand and walked with him into the office, suddenly not sure who needed help more – Duncan or her.


Part VIII     Part X


©Felicia Denise, 2016, 2017

“Free, A Novella Part VIII”

Lennie's letter

“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise


Slowly making her way down the hall, Lennie suddenly was exhausted. Her memories had not only overwhelmed her but reliving them in this house…alone, as she was trying to break from her past consumed her energy.

Glancing into the small sitting room as she walked past, Lennie shook her head thinking of the hundreds of Christmas and birthday gifts this room had stored over the years. She stopped abruptly and looked back at the sitting room door. A sense of nostalgia washed over Lennie and brought something to mind she rarely had – a good memory of Ranard. A small grin graced her face as she reflected on their first Christmas in this house. A frustrated Ranard Porter had already injured himself several times attempting to assemble a tyke bike for little Duncan.

After putting the boys to bed, Lennie, armed with hot cocoa and snacks, joined Ranard. Handing him his cup, Lennie grabbed hers and sat beside him on the floor.

“You know you’re over-complicating this, right?”

Shaking his head vigorously, Ranard disagreed. “Not possible. I didn’t create this nightmare. Who uses seven different types of screws for a toddler bike? This is insane!”

“I’ll swap with you.” She took the instructions from him and handed him the snack tray.

Lennie’s eyes widened as she looked over the paper. “Wow. There are a lot of screws, aren’t there?”

Munching on a turkey wrap, Ranard simply nodded.

Looking over the top of the paper, Lennie noticed the jumbled pile of hardware. “And you dumped them all into one big pile, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know a Master’s Degree in physics was required to put together a child’s toy, Lenore.”

Covering her mouth with her hand, Lennie tried to hide her smirk…and failed. “Finish your snack. Then we’ll start at square one…again.”

Ranard reached for a handful of sugared almonds while his wife sorted the screws into seven piles. They both sat back and chatted quietly, enjoying the childless silence. After draining their cups, they approached their task as a team.

Less than an hour later, a shiny, red tyke bike sat between them. The floor was empty – with no leftover screws.

“I almost ruined Christmas, but my wife saved the day. If this gets out, I’ll lose my man-card for sure!”

Giggling, Lennie reached out and caressed his cheek. You were not going to ruin Christmas and I did not save the day.  It just took a little more patience.” She glanced at the bike. “And there were a lot of screws!”

Taking her hand from his cheek, Ranard held it in both of his, then kissed it. “And you’re always so patient with me.”

“Only because I love you.”


But her love had not been enough, and Lennie’s patience had run out.

Lennie had stopped mourning the end of her marriage long ago…if she ever truly had.

Her heels clicked against the marble tiles. Approaching the living room from the west side, she had traversed nearly the entire first floor. Looking at her watch, Lennie was shocked to see she’d been in the house for over three hours. So much for the “ten-minute walk through” she promised the realtor she would do before leaving town.

Taking a seat on one of the steps leading down into the living room, Lenore Porter buried her face in her hands. She’d had a good life here. She’d made mistakes…the wrong choices, but wasn’t that part of life? Although there had been several intense situations, they were nothing she didn’t rebound from, right? There were no serious and lasting repercussions, right?

A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips.

Yeah, right, Lenore. Keep fooling yourself.

Her marriage had been a train wreck. Her ex-husband had turned against them, and their son had tried to kill his own father.

Not exactly G-rated stuff.

Lennie and Ranard made bad choices and their sons paid the price, losing their family. When she tried to fix her mistake, Ranard’s bad choices almost cost him his life…and their son’s life. Lennie’s fix for that situation led her down yet another rocky path.

Duncan seemed to return to his old self after Lennie filed her divorce papers. Noise and chaos once again ruled the Porter household. But when the district marking period ended and Lennie received the boys’ report cards, her heart sunk. Every one of Duncan’s grades had fallen, and comments like “Incomplete projects”, “Assignments not turned in”, and “No class participation” accompanied every subject.

Lenore Porter became angry. She was angry with herself for not following through and missing any signs that Duncan was not okay. She was angry with the school for not contacting her as Duncan’s grade fell. Six teachers. SIX TEACHERS, and not one had sent an email or picked up a phone.

But Lennie was not angry with her son. Despite his size and demeanor, Duncan Porter was still a child. He was still dependent on adults for leadership. He was still dependent on adults for guidance or solutions to problems. She was his mother, and he was still dependent on her. And Lennie felt she had let him down. Duncan was holding in painful emotions he should never have had to deal with. If his grades were so negatively impacted without her sensing anything was wrong, what else had she missed?

After a quick call to Bea, her staff team manager, Lennie rushed out her front door, walking the short block to her destination.

Doug Henry was a psychiatrist who specialized in mental health issues in men. Though he usually consulted with veterans’ and first responder support groups, He did take on the occasional private patient and worked from home. His four children were close in age to Lennie’s boys leading them to work on many school projects and sporting events together over the years.

Anxiously ringing the doorbell, Lennie tried to steady herself.

Kay Henry opened the door wearing a warm, welcoming smile. One look at Lenore Porter, though, and her smile faded. Kay grabbed her neighbor’s arm and quickly pulled her inside.

“What’s wrong?”

Lennie opened her mouth to respond, but froze. How much should she tell her friends? Should she tell them about Ranard showing up after Duncan’s birthday party? The fight? Duncan’s depression? Deciding to tell them only about the divorce for now, Lennie opened her mouth to speak, but could only utter one word. “Duncan.”

Without taking her eyes on Lennie, Kay Henry took a couple of steps backward and called out to her husband.

“Doug! Lennie’s here…something’s wrong! Doug!”

Only second later, Doug Henry rushed into the foyer. “I heard you the first time, honey. What’s all the yelling for and wha-” He stopped mid-sentence seeing a troubled Lennie Porter fidgeting near his front door.

“Lennie, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Near tears, Lennie could still only utter one word. “Duncan.” Shrugging slightly, her arms fell limply at her sides.

With a quick nod to his wife, Doug slowly approached Lennie, gently taking her by the arm. “C’mon, Lennie. Let’s go to my office.

Without a word, Lenore Porter allowed the psychiatrist to lead her down the short hallway to his office. Just as he seated her on an overstuffed love seat, Kay came through the office door with a tray of coffee. Setting the tray on the coffee table in front of Lennie, Kay turned to leave when Lennie spoke.

“Please…stay.” She glanced at Doug. “Can she stay? I’d like a mother’s input on this.”

“Of course, she can, Lennie.” Before Doug could go any further, Kay Henry was already seated next to Lennie, pouring her a cup of coffee.

“You like it sweet, right Lennie?”

“Yes. Thank you for remembering, Kay.” Lennie accepted the coffee mug with both hands. Holding the mug close to her face, she didn’t sip from it, but instead simply stared into its dark, steamy depths.

Doug allowed a few minutes of silence to pass before pulling his neighbor out of her reverie.

“What’s going on with you, Lennie?”

Lennie didn’t take her eyes from the mug as she spoke.

“A few weeks ago, Ranard showed up unannounced. We had a horrible, ugly argument. So ugly, in fact, I called my attorney the next morning to start the proceedings to change our legal separation…to a divorce.”

A barely audible gasp escaped from Kay’s lips.

Lennie regarded her kindly. “It’s all right, Kay. Removing Ranard from our lives was the best thing for us. I should have done it long ago. I thought by having a legal separation, the boys would still have an opportunity to build a positive relationship with their father…without the stigma of divorce. I was wrong.” She turned to Doug. “The argument affected us all, but I think I got off the easiest because I had already closed that chapter of my life. If we had no children, I would have divorced him from the start.

But the boys…they each dealt with it in their own way. Myron was angry and RJ was fearful. After a few days…as the argument slipped into the past, those two seemed to settle down and move past it. But not Duncan. He was so intense and full of rage, guilt…and I think a bit of self-loathing…he couldn’t even look his brothers or me in the face.”

“Lennie, wait.” Doug sat his mug on the table. “Rage is understandable, but why would Duncan feel guilt…and self-loathing? Did something else happen?”

Sitting her own cup on the coffee table, Lenore scrubbed her hands, then folded them in her lap. “The argument was between Ranard and me…but it was…physical between him and the boys.”

“Son of a bitch!” Doug leapt to his feet, his face hard-set in anger. “The bastard walks awa-”

“Honey!” The pleading look in Kay’s eyes and slight head tilt in Lennie’s direction caused the psychiatrist’s face to redden.

“I-I am so sorry, Lennie. It’s just…just…”. Defeated, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry, Lennie. That was unprofess-”

“I didn’t come here just because you’re a psychiatrist, Doug, but also a friend – someone I trust. You have nothing to apologize for. I was angry too.” Taking a deep breath, Lennie continued.

“Ranard and I argued…and Myron and Duncan were right there. Things were getting heated when RJ appeared. It was all upsetting to him, naturally, so I took him back to his room. When I…came back…Myron was sitting on the floor…motionless…watching Duncan…watching Duncan…”

“It’s okay, Lennie.” Kay patted her arm lightly.

Tears fell from her eyes as she looked first at Kay, then Doug. “Duncan had his father in a…chokehold.”

Husband and wife stared at each other…their expressions incredulous.

“I tried everything I could to get Duncan to release his father…but he was just too strong. I screamed at him, pleaded with him…but in the end, it was RJ-”

“RJ? But I thought you took-”

“I did take him to his room, but he heard my screams and came back. I’m grateful he did. His screaming out his brother’s name was the only thing that saved Ranard’s life that night.”

Kay rose and grabbed a box of tissues from the bookshelf. She held the box out to Lennie, then took a couple for herself. Still standing, Doug leaned against his desk.

“Do you know what happened after you left the room?”

Lenore shook her head. “I didn’t at first. But after releasing his father, Duncan ran to RJ. That’s when I turned and took a good look at Myron. His lip was split and an eye was swelling. Wasn’t hard to figure out Duncan was defending his brother.”

Doug Henry absently shook his head, swearing under his breath.  “I’d like to choke him myself.”

“Doug!” Kay Henry stopped wiping her eyes to glare at her husband. “You’re not helping things.”

“I know, honey…I know. I’m sorry, Lennie…again. It’s just for most of the years we’ve known each other, it’s always been you carpooling, and you volunteering at the games, and you hosting the family potlucks. Ranard’s never done a damn thing. And when you finally do what you have to do for peace of mind, he shows up years later out of the blue, and gets violent with your children. No real parent does that. No real father who loves his children does that. I’d give anything to be able to knock him on his ass right now.”


“Nope, not sorry this time, Kay. A man who will put his hands on his child to inflict harm or injury deserves the same treatment!” He walked over and retook his seat. “What do you need from me, Lennie? Do you want me to talk to Duncan?” Kill Ranard?”

Kay smirked, nodding in approval this time, and Lennie couldn’t help but grin.

“No, Doug. I think someone from outside of our lives would work better. For whatever reason, Duncan is wearing masks around his family and friends, but those same masks didn’t save his grades. Every single one fell.”

“Damn! This just won’t do! What do you need, Lennie…a referral?”

“Yes…please, Doug? I don’t want to waste time hunting down and researching therapists, trying to find one who’s a good fit. I need to get Duncan in to see someone who can help from the first visit. Is that possible?”

“Any other time, I’d say no, Lennie. Counseling can be a very tricky tool to use properly. Patients who have spent months…even years with psychiatrists or therapists with no measurable progress switch to someone new for whatever reason…and seem to be greatly improved after one visit. That means they were paired with the wrong person from the beginning, and either the counselor…or the patient refused to speak up.”

“Wow. I know the relationship is important, but I never realized it could be detrimental.”

“Unfortunately, yes. But I got this. I know Duncan and know he’s an exceptional kid. I have just the person in mind.” He stood and went to his desk. “Would you ladies give me a few moments to make a couple of phone calls?”

“Of course, honey. C’mon, Lennie. My cinnamon rolls aren’t works of art like yours but come let me know how I measure up.”

With a grateful look at Doug, Lennie Porter followed Kay from the room. “Oh, stop it, Kay. I’ll bet they’re amazing.”


She turned hearing Doug call her name. “Yes?”

“How soon do you want an appointment?”


They both smiled.

“Today, tomorrow…just tell me when, Doug, and I’ll get him there.”



Less than an hour later, Lennie was on her way to the high school. Doug had referred Duncan to James Richie, a licensed clinical psychologist with one of the highest success rates in the city for counseling teens and young adults. Also a retired pastor, Doug assured her that James Richie wasn’t one of those who used scripture to shame or mock. Like Doug, James also preferred counseling males. Admitting to mental issues was a usual roadblock for most men and boys, and could jeopardize their therapy and recovery. The stigma was a focus of both Doug and James in their therapies.

While signing Duncan out of school, Lennie decided to save the issue of his falling grades and her not being notified sooner for another day. Getting her son the help he needed was her priority.

Lennie stood at the exit near the parking lot only a few minutes before Duncan walked down the hallway.

“Mom? What’s going on? What are you doing here? They said you signed me out for the rest of the day.”

Lennie had to stretch up on her tiptoes to kiss her growing son’s cheek. “Whoa! Slow down, kid. One question at a time.” She smiled and linked her arm in his and started towards the door.


“Let’s get outside first, sweetie.”

Duncan held the door for his mother, then followed her down the ramp to the parking lot. As they approached her SUV, Duncan stopped.

“Mom? I’m starting to freak out a little here. What’s going on? Are Myron and RJ okay?”

She turned and faced him. “Your brothers are fine, Duncan. This is about you.”

The oldest Porter son frowned, confused. “Me? What about me?”

“Your report card came this morning.”

Duncan’s entire body seemed to sag and he hung his head.

“I-I’m sorry, mom…I messed up. I thought I could fix it before grades came out.” Duncan raised his head. “But I promise, mom…I swear, I’ll get back on track before the school year ends. I’ll work harder…stay after school for-”

“Duncan, stop!” Lenore shook her head slowly. “Honey, your grades are important. But this isn’t about your grades falling, it’s why they did, Duncan.”

Before her eyes, Duncan’s face began a slow morph…from ashamed, humiliated teenager to angry young man.

“What do you mean, ‘why’, mom? Kids get into trouble all the time with their grades. Not studying enough, distracted with games and music…even friends.”

“But that’s not the case with you, is it, son?”

“I guess you have all the answers, mom.”

Momentarily taken aback at his tone, Lennie took a step towards him, her own face setting in anger. “What did you say to me? Since when do you speak to me that way?”

His shoulders fell in defeat. “I’m sorry, mom…I was wrong to do that. I just…just feel like I’m drowning lately…or the walls are closing in on me, and-”


“Huh? Mom? Why what?”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“Gee, I don’t know mom. Growing pains, teen angst…Malcolm in the Middle was canceled…pick one.” His defiant tone was back.

She let the disrespect go…this time.

“Your father.”

“C’mon, mom! You can’t-”

“You haven’t been yourself since that night. I knew you were having a hard time right after it happened, but I thought you got better after I filed for divorce. I was wrong. And I bear the brunt of the blame for this. I let you down, sweetie.”

Side stepping his mother and heading for the car, Duncan waved his hands. “Mom, stop. You’re not to blame. No one is to blame. There is nothing wrong. I screwed up, Mom…simple as that.” He reached for the door handle. “And where are we going in the middle of the day, mom?”

Swallowing her anger, Lennie slowly approached the SUV. “I made an appointment for you to…talk with someone.”

Confused only for a few seconds, Duncan suddenly realized what his mother meant. “Talk to someone? You mean like a shrink? You’re taking me to see a shrink? I’m not crazy, mom.”

“No, baby, you’re not. But there is a problem?”

“Why? Why? Just because I had trouble in my classes and didn’t tell you? I’m not crazy, mom.”

“Duncan, you are not crazy…we both know that. But you yourself just said how you felt like you were drowning…that the walls were closing in on you. Your mind is overwhelmed with something, baby. We need to find out what.”

“No shrink.”

“It’s not up for discussion, Duncan.”

“I said no shrink! I’m not going!”

Lennie had had enough. “Boy, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but you’d better get your butt in that seat, now!”

He looked away, staring across the parking lot. When he faced her again, a lone tear slid down his cheek. “I’m sorry, mom…no.”

“Duncan Mitchell Porter…enough! In the car, now!”

Backing away from the car slowly, Duncan shook his head.” I’m sorry, mom. I’m so, so sorry.” Then Duncan Porter turned and ran towards the street. When he reached the corner, he turned right and disappeared from his mother’s sight.

Lennie just stood there…stunned.

Part VII     Part IV


©Felicia Denise, 2016, 2017

“Free, A Novella Part VII”

Lennie's letter

“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise

Part VII

A lone tear slid down Lennie’s cheek as she stood in the doorway.

She had almost lost her son that night, and her children, their father.

Ranard never returned to the house on Linden Lane after that night. The next day, Lennie called her attorney and instructed him to make the legal separation permanent. She wanted divorce papers filed immediately under the same terms as the separation with two changes. Lennie still wanted no financial support for herself or the boys, but Ranard would get no visitations, and he had to sign off the house.

Her attorney balked, saying the terms were easy for a separation, but no judge would allow her to keep the boys from their father even if she wanted no financial support. Lennie briefly explained to him what happened the night before, and assured her legal representative Ranard would not contest her terms.

Moving on had not been easy for Lennie’s Porter Patrol. RJ was fearful and had nightmares about his father reappearing. Myron was tightly wound with anger at Ranard for the physical abuse he’d suffered. But getting past that fateful night had been hardest for Duncan. He seemed to be at war with himself – guilt and anger competing for dominance, and neither never too far from boiling over. Coming to grips with the fact he’d nearly killed his father also embarrassed Lennie’s oldest son. During the next week, he couldn’t bring himself to look his mother or brothers in the eyes. Duncan kept his head down during meals, and spent the rest of his time behind a closed door in his bedroom. RJ would check on him once or twice each evening. Duncan would never turn him away, but he also never looked directly at his little brother.

A week later, a messenger dropped off divorce papers for Lennie to read and sign. Determined to no longer keep anything from her boys, Lennie sat them down and discussed the divorce and the documents with them. The boys nodded with understanding as their mother went over each page. Even RJ seemed to have a good grasp of the process.

Lennie turned to the last page and froze. The Porter boys looked at each other confused. Myron leaned over and touched Lennie’s arm.

“Mom? You okay? Is something wrong?”

Still speechless, Lennie turned the document so they could all see.

Ranard had already signed the divorce papers.

RJ and Myron visibly relaxed as the beginnings of a tiny smile played at the corners of Lennie’s lips. Even with the threat of child abuse charges and contacting his father looming over Ranard’s head, she had still expected a fight from Ranard. Lennie was thankful at least this time, he had done the right thing.

Only Duncan still sat silent. Looking across the room at nothing in particular, his mother watched his eyes flit back and forth as if trying to focus. Lennie left her two younger boys high-fiving each other and approached Duncan, sliding her arm around his shoulder.

“It’s all over except for the waiting game, and in a few months, that will be over too. We’re going to be fine.”

Nodding his head absently, Duncan turned his head and looked into her eyes for the first time in over a week. “I know, mom…I know.”

The pain and guilt Lennie saw trapped in her son’s eyes nearly broke her. With her arm still around his shoulder, Lennie sat down next to Duncan and pulled his head on to her shoulder.

“I can’t tell you when or where, or how long this will bother you…and I know it still bothers you…but honey, it does get better. It will get better. I hope you can forgive your father one day. But before you get there, you must forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong. You defended your brother…stood up for your family. Something anyone would have done.”

Raising his head, Duncan looked at Lennie again. “He’s our father. I defended my brother from our father. I nearly killed my own father. How do I get past that, mom? How do I look at my brothers again?”

” Yes, sweetie, you could have killed your father. But, you didn’t. Know why?” Pulling him towards her, Lennie turned to where her other two boys were still sitting, only now they were watching her and Duncan. “Because your love for them is stronger than your hatred for your father.”

RJ and Myron nearly leapt to their feet and rushed to their brother’s side. RJ slipped his arm around Duncan’s other shoulder.

“I love you, big brother. You always eat all the Captain Crunch, but I’m glad you’re my brother.”

Duncan fought the smile trying to form on his lips and ducked his head…and found himself looking into Myron’s eyes as he knelt in front of him.

“Dunc…did I ever tell you…you’re my hero?”

Throwing his head back, Duncan roared with laughter. RJ was hit with a case of the giggles when Myron then threw a big, toothy grin at his older brother.

Lennie stood and quietly walked away, leaving her boys in a laughing, wrestling pile of brotherly love.


Turning away from the family room, Lenore stood in the hallway.

So much had happened. So many memories. Lennie and her boys survived it all…together.

Removing Ranard from their lives had been the best thing for Lenore and the boys. It hurt them each in different ways, but they were entitled to a good life. A decent life without the stresses of dysfunction. Without the pain of rejection and abandonment. Without wondering if someone who wasn’t a part of your life would try to exercise control over your life.

But Fate wasn’t done with them. Life still had more lessons to teach, and pain to inflict.


Part VI     Part VIII


©Felicia Denise, 2016, 2017

“Free, A Novella Part VI”

Lennie's letter

“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise

Part VI

Pouring herself a glass of wine, Lennie smiled as she heard Duncan see the last of his guests out. His sixteenth birthday party was a huge success! Duncan and Myron had hosted his friends in the family room with the right foods and music, making for the right ‘cool’ factor. Lennie had set up the breakfast nook and dining room for chauffeuring parents, as well as the den for younger siblings. Everyone was happy.

Everyone was also incredibly well-behaved. Lennie and a couple of patrolling dads didn’t have to issue any warnings about dance floor antics or couples sneaking off. Though they tried to act like grownups, Lennie felt most of the teens were secretly glad their parents were so close by.

Taking a seat on the reclining leather sofa, Lennie lazily leaned back enjoying the quiet. Looking around the room, she was also pleased and impressed at how parents had organized everyone into cleaning crews. Everything was back in its place, and even all the trash was taken out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Hearing Duncan’s raised voice, Lennie sat up. She hoped no one was having car trouble.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing!”

On her feet immediately, Lennie sat her wineglass on the bar as she moved towards the front door. Before she could even leave the family room, Duncan and Myron were standing in front of her…faces hard and anger flaring in their eyes.

“Duncan Mitchell Porter! Did I hear you swear? You just turned-” Lennie stopped abruptly when she noticed someone approaching behind the boys. Her facial features immediately mimicked theirs.

“Ranard. What are you doing here?”

With far too much swagger, Ranard stepped around his sons to stand in front of Lennie.

“Well, damn. No man should be greeted this way in his own home. My sons don’t want to allow me in, and my wife questions my presence.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, but Lennie took a step back. Ranard smirked.

“Again, I ask…what are you doing here, Ranard?” The iciness of her tone caused the smirk on his face to fade.

“I couldn’t miss our eldest son’s sixteenth birthday, Lennie. Even though I wasn’t invited to the party, I at least thought I’d be welcomed.”

“You missed the last seven birthdays, Ranard, and two or three before that. What’s different now? And how did you know we had a party?”

Ranard tried to feign sorrow…and fell short. “I’ve been sitting outside for quite a while. I pulled up and saw all the cars and knew you were celebrating in here. Since I wasn’t told about it beforehand, I decided to wait until the crowd thinned.”

“More like you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of a group of people who know what kind of a father you’re not.” There was no mistaking the venom in Duncan’s voice.

“Boy, is that any way to speak to your father? I may not be around, but look at the home I’ve provided for you…a home that still bears my name, by the way. I don’t need an invitation. I can come and go as I please.”

Lennie turned away from Duncan to fully face Ranard. “Since when? We’re legally separated, and this is not your address of record. So, no matter how the mortgage currently reads, you cannot come and go here as you please. I’ll ask one more time. What are you doing here?”

Giving up all pretense, Ranard threw up his hands. “Fine. Some people just won’t allow you to be nice. I want to sell the house. Even without an appraisal, the mortgage company assures me I could more than make back my investment.”

Lennie and the boys all stood there…mouths agape…not believing their ears. Duncan was the first to speak.

“You want to sell our home? After seven years, you show up to tell us you’re selling our home?”

Lenore Porter stood by silently…frozen in a rage she had never known. The man standing across the room was a stranger to her. Any love she may have still had for Ranard had faded years ago. But, now…in this very moment, she understood what it meant to hate someone. This man casually told his children he wanted to sell their home. He was more concerned with investments than their welfare. Lennie had had enough. She was done. Approaching Ranard slowly, she enunciated each word.

“This house…our home, is not for sale, Ranard. There are two names on the mortgage and without my consent, the mortgage company shouldn’t be quoting deals to you. They haven’t seen you or received a cent from you in seven years. If you try to push through any kind of sale, I’ll sue you and them! Do you understand? Do you hear what I’m saying, Ranard?”

Anger flared in his eyes. “You can’t talk to me like that! Who do you think you are-”

“Unlike you, I know who…and what I am, Ranard. But then…you know how pathetic you are, don’t you, Ranard? Gilbert Porter has made sure to remind you of that every chance he gets!”

“You bitch-”

“You watch your mouth! Do not speak to my mother that way!” Duncan visibly shook, his hands tightening into fists.

“And what about you, boy? Talking to your father like you’re a man or something! I can see your mother slacked on her job of teaching you some respect!”

Duncan took a step towards his father, but Lennie stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“My boys are well mannered, and respectable…to those who are deserving of their respect.”

“I’ve had just about enou-”

“Good! Then you can go now.”

“I’ll leave when I’m-”

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

They all turned suddenly to see eleven-year-old RJ standing at the top of the stairs. His eyes were wide with fear as he clutched the top of the banister.

Glaring at Ranard one last time, Lennie rushed up the stairs to her youngest, most sensitive child. “Yes, sweetie, it is. We all had a small misunderstanding, but nothing for you to worry about, okay?”

RJ glanced down at his big brothers, noticing…and feeling the anger enveloping them. He then looked at Ranard, his expression blank. While Duncan and Myron had time with their father when they were babies and toddlers, RJ had almost none since the day he was born. His brothers felt a sense of betrayal and rejection from their father, but RJ felt nothing. To him, Ranard Porter was someone who upset his mother. And, now Ranard had upset his brothers. RJ wanted to go to his brothers, but Lennie was at his side wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

“C’mon, sweetie. Let’s get you back to bed. No more excitement tonight.”

RJ reluctantly allowed his mother to steer him back down the long hallway.

“You can go now.” Myron didn’t bother to hide his contempt for his father.

Ranard smirked. “You got balls, boy…I’ll give you that. But sounds like you need a lesson in respect, and I’m-”

“…not the person to give it to him. I’ll walk you to the door…dad.” Duncan grimaced on the last word as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.

Sizing his sixteen-year-old son up as Duncan got closer, Ranard realized for the first time that the boy had the advantage in height and weight. He quickly took a step back.

“What has that woman been telling you boys to make you hate me so much? I’m your father, dammit! Stop treating me like some thug off the street!”

“Then stop acting like one”, Duncan countered. “My birthday means nothing to you. None of us mean anything to you. You showed up to take from us. I don’t know why you thought mom would simply agree with you, but you’re wrong. This is our home. Mom takes care of us…and we’re not leaving.”

A bitter smiled tugged at the corner of Ranard’s mouth. “She takes care of you. Your sweet, sainted mother. Am I supposed to believed that she makes a few sandwiches a week, and she can afford all this?” He gestured around the foyer. “I’m not a fool. I know she’s got some man in the shadows taking care of her.”

“I wish she did!” Ranard and Duncan both turned to look at Myron.

“Then you wouldn’t be standing here. Then maybe mom wouldn’t have to work so hard. And maybe we’d have a real dad.”

“Like I said…Saint Lenore! I’m not buying it! I know she’s whoring around to keep my house from me!”

Ranard had barely finished his sentence before Myron lunged at him.

“Stop calling mom names! Stop it! Stop it! I hate you! I hate you’re our father! I hate you!”

While Myron’s blows found their mark, he was not yet as big as his brother. Ranard easily subdued him and fisted Myron’s shirt collar at the base of his throat. Slapping his son across the face, Ranard laughed.

“You got some fire, kid, but like I said,” Ranard slapped Myron across the face again, “you need to learn some resp-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Grabbing his father’s hand, Duncan twisted it behind his back. “Let. Him. Go.”

“Boy, you’d better take-”

Duncan twisted Ranard’s arm higher. “I said…let him go.”

Defying his son, Ranard tightened his grip on Myron’s collar.

Duncan continued to twist his father’s arm until his hand nearly touched the back of his own head.

Crying out, Ranard shoved Myron backward away from him, causing Myron to fall.

Seeing his brother go down, Duncan snapped. Sweeping his foot under his father’s legs, Duncan took Ranard down, never releasing his hand. Hitting the floor with a thud, Ranard flailed around helplessly.

“Let go of me!”

Holding fast, Duncan slowly applied pressure to Ranard’s hand. Screaming in pain, Ranard attempted to dig his other hand into Duncan’s leg.

He only succeeded in pissing off his son more. Duncan leaned forward, wrapping his arm under Ranard’s neck, effecting a choke hold, and tightened his grip.

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Myron watched silently, not caring if the man on the floor lived or died.


Myron looked up to see his mother leaning over the upstairs railing.

Duncan, with his own eyes squeezed tightly closed, continued to apply pressure to Ranard’s neck.

Lennie pleaded with her eldest son as she raced down the stairs.

“Duncan! Please let go! Please, Duncan, stop!” Lennie fell to her knees as she reached her son. Grabbing his arms, Lennie attempted to break his hold, with no success. “Duncan, you have to stop! Don’t do this! Please, baby!”

It was as if she hadn’t spoken at all. Blind with rage, Duncan Porter tightened his hold.

Lennie, near hysteria, panicked even more when she saw Ranard’s eyelids flutter.

“Duncan! He is not worth it! Please stop! Let go! Don’t ruin your life over someone who didn’t care enough to be a part of it!” Lenore grabbed at her own chest, the thought of losing her son caused her physical pain.


The shrill cry echoed in the room and hallway as all eyes turned to see RJ standing at the bottom of the stairs, tears streaming down his face.

As though coming out of a trance, Duncan Porter looked down at his arm wrapped around his father’s neck…and released him immediately…slamming Ranard’s face against the floor. In one swift move, Duncan was on his feet moving towards his baby brother. Reaching RJ, Duncan wrapped him in his arms, hugging his close. He turned them both, moving towards Myron, and Lennie saw his face was wet from tears.

She glared at Ranard, who was drooling and sputtering as he crawled across the floor. “Are you happy now, Ranard?” She rose and went to her sons, seeing the dried blood on Myron’s face and shirt for the first time.

“I’m calling the police! They lock sixteen-year-olds up in this state like adults! You should never have attacked me like some common criminal! I’m going to make sure you go to prison for this!” His throat raw from the choke hold, Ranard’s threats didn’t hold the power he intended.Standing with her boys, Lenore Porter smirked. “Go ahead, Ranard…call the police.” She reached into her back pocket. “Would you like to use my phone?”

Standing with her boys, Lenore Porter smirked. “Go ahead, Ranard…call the police.” She reached into her back pocket. “Would you like to use my phone?”

Propping himself up against the wall, Ranard stared at her, confused. “What?”

“Would you like to use my phone?”

“Are you stupid? You want YOUR son to go to jail?”

“He’s not going anywhere. But, if he does, he’s not going alone. Perhaps they’ll let you two share a cell, and Duncan can practice a few more wrestling moves on you.”

Patting his pockets in search of his cell phone, Ranard tried to laugh but choked instead. “You dizzy bitch! I’m not going to jail.” He pointed towards Duncan. “He overpowered me and tried to kill me!”

Slipping two fingers under Myron’s chin, Lennie gently raised his head. “This is called child abuse, Ranard. After the police see his busted lip, swollen eye, and all the blood on his shirt…trust me…you’re going to jail.”

True fear showed in Ranard’s face. Pushing himself up finally into a standing position, he tried to challenge Lennie. “You won’t do that. You can’t do that.”

“You would be surprised at what I can do, Ranard.” She took two steps in his direction. “I’m raising my boys to be good men…despite who their father is. I run a successful business that I get offers for every week.” She gestured around the room. “I’ve hung on to, and taken care of this house without so much as a penny from you. I can do just about anything I set my mind to.”

She took two more steps towards him. “But you know what I couldn’t do, Ranard? I couldn’t help you. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make you see your own self-worth. I loved you. I gave you a family. Yet, you still couldn’t see how much you mattered. Instead, you turned all the hatred you had for your father on to me…and then foolishly did anything you could to prove you were better than your father.” Lennie shook her head sadly. “But it didn’t work, Ranard. All you did was become Gilbert Porter.”

He flinched as though she had slapped him. “No! Don’t say that! I’m nothing like him!”

“You’re exactly like him. The only difference between the two of you is his wife died. You simply acted like yours did.”

“Lennie, I-”

“There’s nothing else to say here. If you’re going to call the police, do it now. If not, leave Ranard…and never come back.”

“You can’t-”

“Call the police…or leave and never come back. There are no other options. Nothing left to discuss.”



Looking completely lost, Ranard moved towards the front door. Rubbing at his throat, he stopped and looked back at his children standing together with their arms around each other. He looked at his wife and saw her face clouded with contempt…for him.

Turning and taking the last steps to the door, Ranard reached out for the doorknob…and froze.

This isn’t what he wanted. This isn’t what he needed. The last seven years had been one long nightmare. Constantly trying to stay ahead of the game at work. Hanging out with friends and coworkers he didn’t like…and who didn’t like him. Sleeping with any woman who said yes. And Gilbert Porter going out of his way to find his youngest son every few weeks to tell him how worthless he was. He’d tell him how a real man would step up to the plate and reclaim his family…be the husband and father they needed him to be. Not some loser who couldn’t even remember his sons’ birthdays.

Ranard Porter had wanted to fix his life, but he didn’t know how. He’d wanted to push his pride aside and admit his weaknesses. But he just couldn’t. Not to Lennie. She was so smart. Always confident and sure of herself. Even when he attempted to berate and degrade her, she rose above him and continued on. Not seeking or needing his approval. Not needing anyone’s approval…the way he did. Approval he never found.

He turned slightly to look at what he’d lost. Myron stood with his arm around RJ’s shoulder, and they watched their mother comfort Duncan. His teenage son who stood ready to defend his brother…from him. A man-child…already more of a man than Ranard was…or would ever be.

Ranard silently opened the door and slipped out into the loneliness of the night…where he belonged.

Watching as Duncan knelt to console a still fearful RJ, Lenore Porter heard the click of the door when it closed.

It was over.



Part V     Part VII


©Felicia Denise, 2016

“Free, A Novella Part V”

Lennie's letter

“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise

Part V

She would miss this room.

Where the pantry was Lenore Porter’s anchor as a businesswoman, the family room was her fortress for love. Regardless of what negativity was going on in her life, it ceased to exist when she entered this room. Here is where she was a steadfast mother to her boys, always putting them first. There was no question they couldn’t ask and no plans they couldn’t make. Discussions on friendship, school and grades were commonplace. Sleepovers, weekend getaways and family birthday parties had been planned here with much detail. As the Porter boys got older, their home was always the favorite hangout, and go-to spot after sporting events…owed in part to Lennie’s loving nature and talent in the kitchen.

After the revelations of Aunt Di’s letter, Lennie had felt uneasy around her parents, knowing how they felt about her marriage to Ranard. Avoiding the conversation for nearly a week and missing her parents terribly, Lennie invited them over for an early dinner. Afterward, while sitting in the family room, Burt and Linda Kelimore attempted to apologize to their daughter for not believing in her marriage.

Patting his stomach, Burt beamed. “That was an amazing dinner, Lenore, my compliments to the chef! Your dinner choices are always spot on! I’ve been begging your mother for lamb chops for over a month.”

Linda waved him off while speaking to her daughter. “Number one, he hasn’t mentioned lamb chops since Christmas; and number two, he’s never begged me for anything.”

“I most certainly have!”

Lennie didn’t miss the wicked smirk on her father’s face and threw her hands up. “TMI! TMI! Knock it off you two! I may be an adult, but no way am I old enough for this conversation with my parents!”

Burt snickered while leaning back on the sofa, wrapping an arm around his wife. “All right, all right. But we have no taboo or off-limits topics, Lenore. You know you can still come to us anytime you want or need to talk.”

“I know that, daddy. I’ve always known that.”

Linda Kelimore couldn’t contain her smile. “Good, dear. We never want you to feel there’s anything you cannot discuss with us.” Her smile faded. Linda glanced at her husband, then back at Lennie. “Honey, we’re sorry if we ever made you feel-”

Throwing up both her hands, Lennie left her seat and knelt in front of her parents. “Stop right there.” She enfolded one of her hands with Linda’s and rested the other on her father’s knee. “I have the most amazing parents on the planet.  You both have always been there for me and supported me even when you didn’t agree with me. I know I can be single-minded and stubborn, but that’s partly your fault. You raised me to be strong and focused…to make decisions following my first mind, and to be prepared for the consequences.”

Linda quickly nodded in agreement. “Yes, we did…and I blame your father.”

Burt Kelimore allowed his jaw to drop open, feigning offense. “You blame me? And just what are you blaming me for, MRS. Kelimore?”

Lennie ducked her head to hide her smile.

“You are the one who put all those grand ideas in her head about following her heart and her dreams. Never letting anyone deter her from her goals. The only limits she had were the ones she put on herself.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

Linda leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. “Not at all. You were absolutely right.”

“Did you just say I was right about something?”

Swatting him on the arm, Linda addressed her daughter. “I couldn’t be prouder of the woman you are, sweetheart. You are a fantastic mother, a shrewd business woman, and a loving daughter.”

“Just wish some of you had rubbed off on to those two sisters of yours,” Burt piped in.

“Burt! Hush! There’s nothing wrong with Elaine and Penny!”

He raised an eyebrow with a dubious look. Lennie couldn’t hold her laughter in any longer. Falling sideways from her knees to her butt, Lennie shook with laughter and said a silent prayer for the two people who could always bring a smile to her face. Exhaling heavily, Lennie tried to form a serious look.

“Mom, daddy…listen. I’m trying to say you don’t owe me an apology for anything. I should be apologizing to you.”

“Oh, Lenore! Whatever for?”

“For not having the same trust in you as you both have in me. I should have explained…certain things to you from the very beginning about Ranard and me.”


Exchanging worried glances, Burt and Linda sat forward on the sofa. Barely above a whisper, Linda was the first to speak.

“What things, sweetie?”

Crossing her legs, Lennie took a deep breath and told them…everything. About Ranard’s mother dying in childbirth, and Gilbert Porter having nothing but contempt for his youngest son ever since. About the constant bullying from his brothers; Ranard’s low self-esteem; and Lennie taking it upon herself to ‘heal’ Ranard and build him up. She stopped short of telling her parents about how Ranard was becoming his father and his constant verbal attacks upon her. Burt and Linda sat in stunned silence.

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us? I know we could have helped in some small way.” The pain in her mother’s voice caused Lennie’s chest to tighten.

“Ranard didn’t want you to know. He felt you would feel he wasn’t worthy of me. And, honestly Mom…I thought if I supported him mentally and emotionally, and loved him enough…things would be okay.” Seeing the hardness in Burt’s face, Lennie stood and retrieved two glasses of wine from the wet bar near the window. Handing the glasses to her parents, she folded her arms and ducked her head sheepishly. “Obviously, I was off base in my assumptions. Our marriage is far from perfect.” Exasperated, Lennie dragged her hands through her hair. “Who am I kidding? Our marriage is even far from good.”

Lennie poured a glass of wine for herself and sat next to Linda. “I know you and Auntie Di had concerns about me. She may be gone, but I know you both still have issues with,” Lennie waved her hand around the room. “All this. Ranard and I are talking more now, and I believe I’ve almost convinced him to attend marriage counseling with me.

Burt bristled, the hard set of his jaws nearly pulsing. “Almost convinced? What does that mean? Does the man want to save his marriage or not?”

“It’s not that easy, daddy.”

“Well, why-”

“Burt!” Linda interrupted him. “I’m pretty sure it took a lot for Lennie to share this with us. Let’s not interrogate our daughter, okay?”

“It’s okay, mom.” Pausing briefly, Lennie met her father’s questioning gaze. “When he was little, Ranard’s dad put him into some sort of tough love counseling. He had to admit his guilt for his mother’s death, and accept the consequences of his actions. He had to stand in corners for hours on end, sit in tubs of ice cold water, sleep on cold floors, and go without food for a day. Daddy, he was only seven years old. His memories of it still haunt him. That’s why he shuts down at the mere mention of counseling.”

“God in heaven! Who does that to anyone, let alone a child? That’s not therapy, it’s torture! How could Gilbert allow it?” Anger radiated off Burt Kelimore, while Linda tried to calm him down.

“I know, daddy. I’ve never understood my father-in-law. The best I can come up with is losing his wife warped his mind somehow. How else could he blame Ranard and expect him to admit guilt for something he had no control over? I would think if nothing else, he would have raised Ranard with even more love and affection in her memory.”

They all sat quietly for a few minutes, sipping their wine, and trying to understand. Burt finally stood and began to pace in front of his family.

“I cannot imagine what life was like for Ranard, Lenore, and I’ll never understand how some parents do not cherish and protect the bonds they have with their children.” Burt stopped his pacing in front of Lennie. “But like your mother said, we are here for you, and will try to do whatever you need us to do. You’ll never know how sorry I am for what Ranard’s been through, but you and our grandsons are our first concern. I know you will try to work things out with your husband because it’s the right things to do. But honey, please do not sacrifice yourself for a man you may or may not be able to reach.”

Lennie stood and pulled her father into a tight embrace. “I won’t, daddy, I promise.” Kissing him on the cheek, Lennie reached back and pulled her mom from the sofa and into their group hug. With an arm around each of her parents, Lennie looked from one to the other. “But you know I must try, right?”

Linda Kelimore palmed her daughter’s cheek. “You wouldn’t be our Lennie if you didn’t.” Fighting back tears, Lennie was about to respond, but Burt spoke up first.

“Didn’t you say something about peach cobbler and homemade vanilla bean ice cream?” Lennie laughed aloud as Linda shook her head, lips pursed.

“You’re awful!”

“I can’t help it if our daughter is a dynamo in the kitchen! I have to get it while the getting is good. Lord knows when we get home, you’ll be giving me rice cakes with Greek yogurt and something with quinoa in it. And what the hell is quinoa anyway?”

Still laughing, Lennie enjoyed their usual banter as she led her parents back to the kitchen.


Remembering that evening from so long ago, Lennie Porter smiled to herself as she crossed the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She had been blessed with amazing parents. They were always true to their word. Even though their conversation from that evening was never mentioned again, Burt and Linda had stood by her through it all without any disparaging remarks or judgment.

Lennie’s smile quickly turned into a full grin when she stopped in front of the window seat. Labeled the ‘Meeting Place’ by the Porter boys, the window seat was where all the serious family discussions had taken place. The large three-section Sunrise Bay window seat had more than enough room for four. However, most of the time only two family members would occupy the space – either Lennie and one of her sons, or two of the boys. Duncan and Myron had many long discussions stretched out on the ultra-thick cushions which covered the bench. The window overlooked a grassy, shaded area in the back yard which the Porter boys landscaped themselves.

Taking a seat on the bench, Lennie looked out at the last handiwork done by her boys before Duncan deployed for the second time nearly two years ago. Perennials in shades of pink and purple circled the Sugar Maple tree and bordered the brick retaining wall. The buds were just beginning to open and by the time the new homeowners arrived next week, the backyard would be filled with vibrant colors and scents.

A single tear made it down Lennie’s cheek before she swiped it away. After her breast cancer scare, Duncan, Myron and RJ became staunch supporters of breast cancer awareness. They all took part in a variety of sporting events supporting outreach and free mammograms for low-income women. After Lennie’s pathology report came back with no signs of cancer or precancerous cells, her three young men openly cried.


“Hey Porter Patrol, I’m going to be fine. Dr. Chaney said no cancer, remember?”

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Myron took her hand. “We’re just happy, mom. We have no clue what we would do without you.”

Reaching out with her other hand, Lennie froze and winced at the pain.

“Hey, hey! Take it easy, mom.” Duncan was on the other side of her bed in a heartbeat.

Leaning back against the pillows, Lennie exhaled roughly. “Who knew a few little stitches could hurt so much?”

“Dr. Chaney assured us the tenderness would be gone in a few days, and your biggest problem would be the itching as the wound site heals.”

“Guess that gives me something to look forward to.”

“Mom, c’mon.” Myron squeezed her hand. “Just take these few days to rest. Let us take care of you.”

“You’re right, sweetie. I’m just a bad patient. But Dr. Chaney did say I could go home tomorrow morning – guess I’m just anxious to get back into my routine.”

“Why? Does that change how serious this situation is?” All eyes turned to RJ standing at the foot of the bed. “You’re acting like you were here for the flu or something.” The pain in his eyes belied the harshness of his tone.

“RJ? Man, take it down a thousand. You okay? Talk to me.” Myron stood and stepped towards his younger brother, but RJ backed away.

“Breast cancer…kills. I don’t think we’re taking this seriously enough.”

“But honey, I’m fine. Our lives won’t change. We’ll continue on like always.”

“I know, mom, and you’ll never know how grateful I am for that.” The obvious turmoil on his face was confusing to his family. “Remember Peter Gleason from the baseball team? His grandma died from breast cancer when we were in sixth grade. When we were juniors, his mom had to have a breast removed. Now she’s undergoing treatment again for the other breast.” RJ scrubbed his hand over his face. “And his sister just found a lump in her breast.”

Duncan’s eye widened. “Cynthia? She’s my age. Are you kidding me?” He shared a quick glance with Myron, and they both nodded. “That’s why you’ve been so keyed up. Even after Dr. Chaney gave us the good news. Myron and I just chalked it up to more in-depth things you were learning in med school.”

“I guess I was so intent on hearing a different outcome-”

“You’re right.” Her boys watched her as Lennie slowly sat up and reached out to RJ. “Even with a positive outcome, this is still a serious situation. The doctor told me about lumps reappearing or new ones showing up in other spots. When I go in for my post-op check next week, I’ll be set up for regular labs and screenings.”

RJ visibly relaxed.

“I’m aware of the situation I’m in. I just didn’t want to burden my boys with it. You’re all at such great places in your young lives, and the sky’s the limit for your futures. I did not want negativity about my health scare impacting any of your decisions.”

Putting his hand on RJ’s shoulder, Duncan pulled Myron closer. “Mom, we’re at these great places in our lives because you busted your butt keeping negativity away from us. Nothing…and no one…came before us. We were still kids when we realized you’d do anything for us. Of course, you are a factor in every decision we make, and you always will be.”

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes as Lennie ignored Duncan’s obvious reference to their father.

“I am so proud of my boys.”

“We know, mom, and I’m sure big brother wasn’t trying to make you cry.” Myron leaned over and kissed her cheek. His brothers then did the same. “We should take off now and let you get some real rest.”

“Good idea!” Duncan herded his brothers towards the door. “We’ll be back bright and early in the morning to bust you out of here, Mom!” With that, her Porter Patrol disappeared down the hallway.

Lowering the head of her bed, Lennie stretched out and slowly adjusted the pillow under her side. She knew her oldest son was up to something. However, before she could give it more thought, Lennie drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


Lennie was halfway through her breakfast – after mastering using her left hand to eat – when she heard her boys making their way to her room. They sprang into the room, panting as though they’d just finished a race. The young men wore unusually bright smiles, and Lennie did not miss the small smudges of dirt on their clothing.

After quick kisses, they each grabbed a seat and pulled out sandwiches from Lennie’s favorite deli.

“How in the world did you get Mira to sell you those during breakfast hours?”

RJ grinned. “That was easy. We told her you were in the hospital and craving one of her special sandwiches!”

“Seriously? You use me as your excuse, and you’re just going to eat those in front of me?”

“Mom! We’re not heathens!” Duncan pulled another sandwich from his bag. “Reuben on rye/sourdough blend with extra sauerkraut.”

It was Lennie’s turn to grin. She slid the plate of powdered eggs aside and watched Duncan unwrap her sandwich.

The family chatted amiably as they ate. Nurses were in and out of the room, and by the time the sandwiches were gone, Lennie’s discharge was complete. While a nurse helped her dress in the private bathroom, her boys packed her bag, and Myron left to pull Lennie’s SUV – the only family vehicle big enough for all of them – around to the patient discharge doors.

Only a few minutes later, a young patient care aide wheeled Lennie through the double doors, stopping curbside. Duncan and RJ huddled around Lennie as she stood.

“Gentlemen, I got this, okay? I’ll probably need someone to close the door for me, but getting in is no problem.” Moving before she finished speaking, Lennie hopped up in the front seat. Her boys looked at each other frowning as the young aide backed the wheelchair away from the vehicle and returned inside…laughing.

Closing her door, RJ smirked. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you mom?”

Lennie just grinned. Duncan and RJ got comfortable in the back seat, exchanging looks with Myron. He turned around to see his mother staring at him.

“What are you waiting for? Home, James!”

His brothers laughed in the back seat. Myron shook his head. “We are in so much trouble.”

Caught off guard by a wave of fatigue, Lennie relaxed back in her seat and closed her eyes, enjoying the laughter and banter of her three young men.


Waking to the sound of a car door closing, Lennie opened her eyes, trying to get her bearings. Duncan and Myron were standing near the front of the vehicle while RJ opened her door.

“We’re home? Oh, my god, I slept the whole way?”

RJ held on to her hand as though his mother was fragile. Lennie slipped down from the seat, suddenly aware of the brightness of the morning.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“We were enjoying the peace and quiet, mom. Well, except for the times you snored.” Duncan quipped.

“Ha, ha, Mr. Funny Man.” Lennie glared at him as she rounded the vehicle, heading for the walkway to the front door.

“Mom? Before you head inside, we want to show you something.” Duncan was backing towards the open garage bay.

Looking at each of their faces, Lennie nodded and wordlessly followed her firstborn through the garage. Myron and RJ fell into step behind her. When they reached the corner door which led to the backyard, Duncan turned and reached out his hand.

“You have to close your eyes.”

Lennie smirked, but took her son’s hand, closed her eyes, and allowed him to guide her through the door. They had only taken a few steps when he stopped.

“Okay, mom. Open your eyes.”

Lennie opened her eyes, looking in Duncan’s direction, but quickly followed his gaze.

Gasping, Lennie clutched her chest with one hand as she walked deeper into the back yard. The area around the Sugar Maple tree which had been empty when she left for the hospital, now exploded with color. There were flowers everywhere. Exotic blossoms of pinks, lavenders, and purples, obviously strategically placed, stretched proudly towards the morning sun. Tears streamed down her face as Lennie turned to face her boys. Overcome with emotion and unable to speak, she looked at each of them with a questioning glance.

Silently, RJ approached his mom, turning her back towards the tree and leading her to the other side.

She saw the banner immediately.

“Lennie’s Love Garden.”

RJ caught his mother effortlessly as her knees weakened. Audible sobs racked Lennie’s body. She held on firmly to RJ with her left hand, her right hand still clutched to her chest.

Myron walked over and knelt by the banner. “We wanted to do something special for you, mom, to let you know how grateful we are to have you for our mom, and that all your tests came back negative.” He slowly waved his hand over the floral array. “This was all Duncan’s idea.”

Lennie turned to her oldest son, and he was already at her side, kissing her on the temple.

“These are perennials. With a little weeding and a bit of pruning, they’ll bloom indefinitely.” He pointed out different flowers. “The large bell-shaped flowers are Agapanthus. These are Agastaches, and these small bell-shaped blooms are Campanulas.”

Regaining her composure, Lennie found her voice. “This explains the dirt smudges on your clothes. You all worked through the night, didn’t you?” She quickly glanced at RJ and Myron – who winked – then returned her gaze to Duncan. “And when did you become such an authority on flowers? Are the Marines including that in training now?”

RJ and Myron laughed aloud, but Duncan ducked his head sheepishly.

“Only when you’re late to PT two mornings in a row and your C.O.’s wife wants a flower garden dug.”

“Oh, Duncan…no!” Laughter overtook Lennie almost as fast as her tears had.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. She was a nice lady and explained everything to me while we worked. When she talked about perennials, I immediately thought of you.”

“Of me?” Lennie frowned. “How so?”

“Perennials are sturdy and seem to thrive in adverse conditions. Some flower bulbs need to be dug up and stored during winter. But, perennials’ roots run deep. They grab hold of the earth and pull nutrients from it. They learn to get by with less, but they still sustain themselves. As the weather warms up, perennials ‘relax’ and let their buds grow until their blossoms burst forth in the warmth of the sun. Perennials are some of the most beautiful flowers you’ll ever see.”

Duncan swiped his mother’s cheek, wiping away her fresh tears. “You’re a perennial, mom. Strong, determined. Through the worst of times, you held fast. You never let anything or anyone blur your focus. Not even our father. You gave us a great home life; supported us in all our extra-curricular activities and ran a successful business. You were an amazing mom…still are. We love you, mom.”

Planting another kiss on her temple, Duncan stepped aside as Myron kissed Lennie on the cheek. “Yeah. We love you, mom.”

Still holding her left hand, RJ raised it to his lips. “You’re the best, mom. We love you.”

RJ felt her weight shift again, and quickly slipped his arm around her. Myron did the same from Lennie’s other side, careful not to hold her too tightly. Duncan came up behind them and grabbed hold of each of his brothers, and they stood there, silently holding each other up.


Still looking out the bay windows, Lenore Porter smiled at her memories. She was a blessed woman, and she knew it. The more love she gave her boys, the more they gave back. She had braced herself for all sorts of conflict and resentment during their teen years. All the things other parents told her to expect. None of it ever appeared. Not having Ranard take an interest in their lives, and then not having him around at all made them stronger and more supportive of each other.

Most of the time, her husband didn’t notice or chose to ignore the regular family activities that took place without him. With all the memories flooding Lennie’s mind during her last walk through her home, she couldn’t block the one she wanted to remember least. The one time Ranard decided to insert himself into his family’s life.

Lennie couldn’t block the one memory that changed their lives…and nearly cost a life.

Part IV     Part VI


©Felicia Denise, 2016

“Free, A Novella, Part IV”


“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise

Part IV

A sudden car horn blast from down the block shook Lennie from her memories of long ago. Leaving the living room, she wandered into the kitchen where she had prepared thousands of meals. She ran her hand across the marble counter-top that had been part of her total home makeover after she filed her divorce papers.

After reeling from her aunt’s letter all those years ago, Lennie had chosen not to tell Ranard about her inheritance. Instead, she worked harder at getting close to Ranard again, and solidifying their marriage. Once they were on solid ground as a family, Lennie had planned to not only tell Ranard about their good fortune, but share it with him…allowing him to indulge in more of his dreams.

It wasn’t meant to be.

The rekindling of the Porter marriage only lasted long enough to produce Ranard Nelson Porter, Jr – RJ. Even before the birth of the youngest Porter son, his parents were again at odds. Ranard was more verbally abusive to his wife, and Lennie was running low on patience. Her husband had taken to showing up at home in time enough to shower, dress and leave again each morning. Tempted to change all the door locks, Lenore Porter decided to bide her time…waiting for the right time to end her marriage.

Instead, Lennie poured herself into her children, and her business. As the Porter boys grew, they began to understand their family situation was not normal. They saw their friends’ fathers bring them to school and pick them up; take them to the park; cheer them on at sporting events…and take them out to eat afterwards. Making a concerted effort not to paint Ranard in a negative light to his sons, Lennie always explained how busy their father was and how important his job was. It wasn’t that Lennie was trying to build Ranard up in their children’s eyes, but she didn’t want Duncan, Myron, and RJ to wear her bitterness and become cynical about love and family even before they became men. She knew in time, the boys would form their own opinions about their relationships with their father – or lack of one – just as Ranard had with Gilbert Porter.

As her boys grew, so did “Always…From Scratch”.  Lennie’s fresh sandwiches had been a hit from the start, but adding vegan and vegetarian items to the menu gave her an advantage over the other lunch caterers, and made her even more popular. By the time, RJ was ready for preschool, Lennie had stopped using her SUV for deliveries and had purchased a commercial van with a service window.

Walking into her former pantry, Lennie turned in a circle, smiling faintly. This was probably her favorite room. Her days had begun and ended in this room most days with Lennie pulling out necessary ingredients and slicing and dicing sandwich fillings even before she woke the boys for school. She glanced at the walk-in freezer in the corner that had replaced the usually overloaded upright fridge in year seven of her business and shook her head. It was a full year after the freezer had been installed before Ranard even noticed. He railed at her for overspending on such a luxury and accused her of taking out a business loan in his name. Lennie had calmly told him the freezer was paid for…in cash…the day before it was installed, and walked out of the room. Of course, he followed, insisting she was lying because there was no way she could sell enough sandwiches from her “little business” to pay for anything.

Lennie never responded to Ranard’s accusations and rants. In fact, she didn’t speak to him again until three days later – after she had filed for legal separation and had him served.

The “Ranard” who approached Lennie that same evening was the opposite of the man who’d verbally assaulted his wife over a new freezer.

“Lennie, I went overboard about the freezer and said a lot of things I shouldn’t have. But a legal separation, Lennie? Isn’t that overreacting a bit?”

Pinning him with the same perturbed look she gave her boys when they misbehaved, Lennie also used her ‘mom-voice’. “Ranard, do you seriously believe I want a legal separation because of a freezer?” She gave him no time to respond. “I want it because I’m tired of being a single parent; because I’m tired of waiting and hoping and praying that you’ll become an active participant in this family…and this marriage; because I’m tired of being your target every time something doesn’t go your way; but most of all, Ranard, I want it because there is no love between us, and I don’t believe there ever was. There will be a divorce too, Ranard. I’m just not ready to put the boys through that yet. However, this playing house needs to end.”

Dumbfounded, Ranard looked lost, searching for the right words to say to his wife. Lennie didn’t wait, turning quickly, and heading for the stairs. He suddenly sputtered, “I do love you, Lennie. It’s just all the pressure of dealing with my fa-…”

Lennie whirled around and cut him off as anger flared in her eyes. “No! No! You do not get to play the Gilbert Porter-card! This doesn’t have a damn thing to do with your father! This is about you, Ranard! You! And the decisions…the choices YOU make. The boys and I don’t exist for you unless you need to trot us out for one of your happily-married-family-man events. You spend money faster than you can make it. And the women! Do you really believe I don’t know about the women? ALL of them?”

Ranard threw up his hands to stop her. “I wouldn’t have needed to find love and comfort in other women if I had it at home.”

Shaking with rage, Lennie slowly walked towards her soon-to-be-ex-husband. “Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Ranard? Poor Ranard Porter. His mother died bringing him into the world, and his father has hated him ever since. Poor Ranard Porter. Shunned by his father and berated by his older brothers. Poor Ranard grows up unloved, with low self-esteem.” She stopped mere inches away from him. “Is that the story you told them all, Ranard? Is that how you pulled them in and played on their sympathies? Or were they just basic immoral cows who thought they were putting one over on me…the poor, stupid wife?”

“You’re out of control, Lennie! Stop talking like that!” He took a step back.

Lennie moved with him, continuing her tirade. “No, Ranard. For the first time in ten years, I’m in total control, and this”, she motioned between them, “this is over. Good luck explaining it to Daddy!” Turning abruptly, Lennie strode from the room, Ranard calling out behind her.

“I’ll never give you a legal separation or divorce, Lennie. I’ll never sign these papers! Never!”

Without slowing down or turning around, she responded, “Yes, you will. Eventually…you will.”

Ranard stood firm…for less than four months. His attorney’s fees were growing, and he couldn’t live the lifestyle he wanted and fight Lennie. Ranard had attempted to keep the house for himself, and Lennie was more than ready for that battle.

“How soon do you think you and the boys will be moving, Lenore?” Not even looking in his direction, Lennie responded almost flippantly.

“I’m not moving my boys, Ranard.” His smirk was nearly hostile.

“Seriously, Lenore? You actually believe I’ll allow you to keep my dream home? You think I’ll just scurry away with my tail between my legs because it’s what you want? You’re nuts.” He strode to the bar with far too much swagger in his steps. After pouring himself a double shot of Scotch, Ranard turned to find his wife facing him, arms folded across her chest. “Oh, please don’t start with the tears, Lenore. They won’t work on me.” Lennie slowly approached her husband, her steps punctuating each word.

“What kind of man values his dream home over his children? What kind of man values his dream home over the woman who tried to loved him and spent their entire life together trying to help him be successful?” She stopped in front of Ranard. “What kind of man presents himself as a dedicated family man to the world, all the while living a lie?” Lennie uncrossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “That man…isn’t a man at all, Ranard. He’s a spoiled little boy who’s used to getting his way. “

Lennie must have hit a nerve with her ‘spoiled little boy’ comment, because Ranard was packed and moved the next day. Personally, Lennie always felt Ranard was secretly glad to be from under their huge mortgage payment. While she had made full financial disclosure to her attorney, he informed her Ranard’s legal team never asked for it. He said it rarely happened, but was not unheard of if the complaining party requested no support of any kind.

Her parents didn’t understand at first why Lennie had kept the house she never liked or wanted. They saw her separation as a way of unburdening herself of the past, and making a fresh start for her boys. They also hoped she would quickly make the separation permanent. But Lennie couldn’t be dissuaded. Duncan, Myron, and RJ had gone from babies to men in this house, and there was no way Lennie could just walk away from those memories. Her role as a wife may not have lasted, but Lenore Porter had excelled in the role of mother. She stayed in the house Burt Kelimore usually referred to as ‘the tomb’, and redecorated from top to bottom. Ranard’s showplace was gone, and the house had finally become a home.

Leaving the pantry, Lennie walked through the formal dining room that had been used more for homework and science experiments that it was meals. She and the boys had preferred eating together at the breakfast nook in the kitchen, or the dining area in the family room. This dining room…it was pure Ranard Porter. Haughty and cold.

Crossing the hallway, Lennie stood at the double entrance doors of the family room, and it had been a family room in the truest sense. Countless blanket forts were built and sleepovers shared. Her boys had gone from watching “Sesame Street” to “The Wire” in this room. Kisses had been stolen from girls who supposedly had come over to ‘study’ with one of the boys.

Lennie closed her eyes as if hearing the voices of a thousand conversations over the years. But one conversation stood out, louder and angrier than all the rest. Remembering the pain the voice also held, Lennie felt the sting of tears.

It had been the one conversation she knew could happen, but had hoped never would.


Part III       Part V

©Felicia Denise, 2016

“Free, A Novella, Part III”


“Free, A Novella”
by Felicia Denise

Part III

Lennie’s vision began to blur, but it wasn’t until a lone tear fell onto the letter that she realized she was crying. Her mind raced as she tried to get a handle on her emotions before continuing. Evidently, her aunt had written this letter the day after Lennie and the boys had ended their vacation and returned home. Obviously, Auntie had hidden her feelings quite well as Lennie never suspected a thing.

And the two sisters had talked about this. Lennie’s jaws tightened as she pictured her mother and aunt sitting around discussing her life! What gave them the right? She knew both women loved her unconditionally, but that didn’t mean they knew what was best for her. Second guessing her decisions? As though she were an errant child? Lennie fumed at the disrespect! They didn’t understand. No one did. Ranard was far from perfect, but the sacrifices she made were to build him up; to strengthen his confidence; make him worthy in his father’s eyes.

Falling back against the sofa, Lennie’s body sagged under the weight of reality. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she realized all her love, support, and efforts to help Ranard believe in himself and become a success had been an exercise in futility. While Ranard was moving up in the chemical research and development world, his self-esteem was still as low as the day they met in college. He had just grown better at masking it from everyone, except Lennie. The loving gratitude Ranard used to show Lennie, and the special times they spent together were also gone. Replaced by hurtful words, biting remarks and constant judgement whenever they were together. Ranard had become Gilbert Porter – his father – and Lennie had become his favorite target.

Laying the letter aside, Lennie stood and walked to the window. Closing her eyes, Lennie leaned her forehead against the glass. She’d had such hopes and dreams for their future together. When had it all gone so wrong? They had been so happy after they were married. Duncan had been a total surprise with Lennie finding out she was pregnant a few short weeks after their June wedding. But Ranard had been thrilled, and anxious to have his own family. He yearned to give his children the love and attention his father never gave him. However, the birth of Myron two short years later saw a different Ranard Porter. Still friendly and affable with co-workers and friends, at home, Ranard was cynical and cruel. Lennie never knew when he would verbally lash out, and was grateful his time away from home seemed to increase. Her heart broke for her boys. Duncan had only had his father’s attention until he began to walk, and Ranard had only held infant Myron a scant few times.

Looking back at the letter on the sofa, Lennie wiped the tears from her face. The people who knew her best…and loved her most, were right. They had long ago seen the things she’d refuse to admit to herself. Marrying Ranard had been a mistake. She had mistaken his devotion and gratitude for her tutoring and moral support…for love, and maybe while it wasn’t a smoldering, all-consuming love, Lennie felt they were good together. Love would come and grow with time. When Ranard, nervous but excited, knelt on one knee before Lennie in their favorite restaurant and proposed, she was over the moon. The next day, Lennie purchased a leather-bound journal and began plotting their future together.

Her family was not as excited as she had expected, but she assumed it was because they felt as though they were losing her even more than when she went off to college. Lennie knew they would share her happiness once they started planning her wedding. Her Mom and aunt would go over-board with decorations, and her dad would wear the world’s biggest grin as he walked her down the aisle.

She had only gotten a shadow of that “happy day.” And now, she knew why. Now it made sense why during the biggest event of her life, her family wore smiles that didn’t reach to their eyes.

Lennie had no idea what more her aunt could have written that would rattle her any more than she was, but steeling herself, she quickly walked to the sofa and retrieved the letter. Pacing slowly around the room…she read.


It is truly difficult to accept the choices of someone you love, Lennie, when you feel you know them so very well…and they make decisions that are so out of character.

I was speechless when I first saw your new home. It was so elegant and grand…and so not you. The house was far too pretentious for you. When I saw your face as Ranard walked us from room to room, boasting over the cost of the house, I knew then whose house it truly was. It also confirmed my suspicions that Ranard Porter was a foolish, impractical man, more interested in boasting and showing off than labors of love. You appeared to wince, Lennie, each time he mentioned the price of the house. He was living above his means…and yours. Two weeks later, your mother called to tell me about Ranard buying two new cars and to share her concerns for you and the boys. While he made good money, your husband was spending it faster than he was earning it. My sister and I were almost certain you were not consulted on any of his purchases. But, again Lennie, you allowed it.  You wouldn’t speak up on your own behalf, and you didn’t speak up for your children.

Lennie abruptly stopped pacing and reading. Realizing her aunt AND her parents knew her shame – jeopardizing the boys’ future by not trying to reign in Ranard’s endless spending – caused Lennie’s chest to tighten. Ranard was a foolish man, and he was getting worse, not better. But she was determined to make her marriage work. She had to.

She leaned against the desk to finish the letter.

Like your parents, Lennie, I have only wanted the best for you. When you were younger and I could assist Linda and Burt, I did. When you married Ranard, I wanted to gift you the down payment for your first home, but Burt asked me to wait. When Duncan was born, I at least wanted to start a college fund for him, but providence stopped me. After the house and the cars, and then you launching your lunchtime catering business, my mind was made up.

While you were here a few months ago with the boys…and distracted with their baths…I asked you to sign some documents, medical advanced directives. You thought you were signing on only as a backup for your mom. Forgive me, my sweet girl, but that was not the truth. The documents you signed were to add you as co-owner of all my bank accounts and property.  When my attorney, Bernard, visits you (if he hasn’t already), he will have an itemized list and inform you of the total value. He’ll arrange for you to come to his office to receive all of the information and documentation regarding my estate, and that’s when you will see the documents you signed, Lennie.

Please do not be angry with me for my deception, nor your parents. They were not aware at the time of my plans and played no part in them. I wanted to make this transition as easy as possible for you, Lennie, while insuring some stability for your children’s future.

Everything is yours, Lennie…no conditions or ultimatums. I do, however, have one request. Please consider not telling Ranard about your inheritance. I know it’s wrong of me, but this I do not apologize for. Yes, he has shown that he’s capable of making a good living, but when it comes to being a true provider, his actions prove him lacking. Like you, I want Duncan and Myron to have a bright future, money for college, and stable roots. I feel if Ranard has access to your assets, he’ll selfishly blow right through them without thought to you and the boys. I don’t want you living on “what could have been”, not when there is something I could do to avoid that.

Of course, the decision is solely yours, Lennie Penny. Your parents will not interfere. I do apologize for being too much of a coward to discuss this with you face-to-face, but the hurt and mistrust I knew I’d see in your eyes would break me.

Continue to raise those boys as you are – with excitement and enthusiasm. Show them the joys of life, and find your joy, Lennie. Re-capture YOU.

Thank you for so many years of love, fun, and friendship, my sweet girl. Thank you for making me feel needed, and thank you for giving me a reason to live life when I felt I had no reason to go on.

Be happy, Lennie. BE HAPPY.

I love you,

Auntie Di


Her silent tears had turned to sobs before Lennie realized the sounds she heard were coming from her. A floodgate of emotions opened, and the weight was simply too much for Lennie to bear. The letter slipped from her hands as she slid to the floor and continued to cry.

Part II       Part IV

©Felicia Denise, 2016