Behind the cameras and in the shadows, Serene Stone tried to tone down her goofy smile when Nolan’s gaze swept the studio, only stopping when his brown eyes landed on her. He rubbed the scruff on his jaw and winked at her. Of the many talents and skills her husband had, one of them was still his ability to take her breath away. Her chest puffed with the knowledge that he was hers and she was his, just as the first interviewer climbed the square platform and sat on the leather chair across Nolan.
Serene pointed at the young woman in a checkered pencil skirt and a black tucked-in blouse. Returning Serene to the shadows so he could step into the spotlight, Nolan stood up and extended his hand to the young journalist sharing the platform with him — the platform, but not the spotlight. All the bright lights casted a glow on Nolan and him alone.
What was new?
The wide-eyed glimmer in the interviewer’s eyes wasn’t new to Serene either; it was one familiar to her after having recognized it in the faces of multiple die-hard fans graced by Nolan’s presence. In most cases, it would take them a few seconds simmering in disbelief that he was right there with them before they could respond to the most mundane of interactions with him. This situation wasn’t an exception, as the young woman’s lips quivered when Nolan let go of her hand.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stone,” she said, her tone high-pitched enough for Serene to wonder if that was her normal voice. “I am such a huge fan.”
“Yeah?” Nolan placed his palm against his chest. “Thank you for supporting my music.”
“Your song, Broken Wings, is the theme song of my recent break-up. I wouldn’t have survived the heart-break without your music.”
“It’s been a while since I sang that song.” Nolan returned to his seat, but cast a glance at Serene. “It’s been a long time since I’ve experienced that kind of heart-break, not that I’m complaining. I’m glad the song helped you out. But—” he clasped his hands together “—we’re here about the movie.”
“Yes!” The interviewer jolted to attention, perhaps remembering that she had limited time to do her job, because there were other reporters waiting. “Is it time to start?” She looked at the cameraman nearest Serene. “Are we rolling?”
He gave her the thumbs up.
The interview began, and the press junket for Staged was officially underway. Nolan’s role in the film was, in fact, a minor one; he had only one musical number with the lead actress. They had asked him to join as more of a publicity stunt, but after initial viewings conducted for critics and the press, early reviews had raved about his performance.
Once again, like he had done many times in his life, Nolan Stone had stolen the show.
Serene yawned as she sat in the director’s chair they had provided for her. This was going to be a long day, and if Nolan hadn’t asked her to be there, she would have preferred to be anywhere else. This was his scene, not hers, and yet, despite how at ease he appeared to be, interviews like this still made him nervous. Not necessarily because he didn’t know what to do or how to respond — that part came naturally to him — but because of experiences with female fans who mistook the smolder in his eyes and the easy smile on his face as a sign of interest. With his wife around, it was easier for him to deflect and remind anyone interested that he was spoken for.
It wasn’t like Serene could blame them. She had married a handsome, charismatic, and talented man, who had laid claim of her heart as early as six years old. His relaxed posture and his friendly nature were an intoxicating contrast to his brooding ballads and intense stage presence. After over a decade taking the musical industry by storm, Nolan Stone was still breaking barriers and showing everyone he was capable of so much more than they had already seen.
“One last question, since I’m almost out of time.” The interviewer was giddy as she shifted in her chair. “What’s it like to have everything in your life be so perfect? Perfect career, perfect wife, perfect daughter — a perfect life. It must be such a dream-come-true to be living your life.”
Serene winced. Perfect? The word stung her ears and hit her chest. Why did this stranger’s line of questioning feel like such an affront to her? What was wrong with being perceived as perfect? Serene held back a scoff. The fact that it wasn’t true, for one. They were far from perfect — most especially her.
What Nolan said in response made her flinch in her seat. “Perfect, huh?” He snickered and brushed a hand against his dark hair as he slouched in his seat. “I wouldn’t say perfect, especially as far as my career goes. I’ve had my share of ups and downs, but I have an amazing life that I wouldn’t exchange for anything. Playing a part in Staged, for example, is one of those things that is unexpected and enjoyable for me, but I’m nowhere near perfect in this movie. Just ask my co-stars.”
“Most of us think you’re perfect for the role you played, and we’re dying for more.”
“You’re too kind.” Nolan smiled. “Let’s just say that for me, my wife and daughter are as close to perfect as it gets. Everything else is a bonus.”
The scoff she had withheld earlier escaped Serene’s lips. After everything that had happened over the past year, how could anyone refer to her as perfect? Even Nolan. Serene recoiled at the movie reel of her failures playing scene-by-scene through her mind. Losing control of the company she had founded. The media firestorm over her most recent art exhibit, which had been inspired by her two miscarriages. The constant sense of not measuring up to expectations placed upon her as wife, mother, and daughter.
Perfect.
Serene flinched. Her husband was being kind. As close to perfect as it gets? Maybe that could be true of their daughter, but certainly not of Serene.
The next reporter awaiting her turn stood a few feet away from where Serene was sitting. Serene bristled when the woman raised a brow at her. When the first interviewer left and this new one took her place, the first question thrown at Nolan was, “Mr. Stone, are you and your wife having any trouble at home? Is there any reason your life, wife, or daughter may be less than perfect? Is the version of perfection you portray more than a little staged? And did that have something to do with why you did so great in a role for a film called Staged?”
Serene’s mouth dropped open. Where were these questions coming from? Had Serene placed her husband in the hot seat when all she had done was mindlessly scoff at the word, perfect?
The hum of the engine masked the sound of Serene hurling out her lunch on the cramped toilet of her husband’s tour bus. Interview questions from her husband’s press junket were haunting her as she rose to her feet, put the toilet cover in place, and wiped her mouth. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she gripped the platinum-plated sink. On the edge of it was yet another thing mocking her for being anything but “the closest thing to perfect”.
A pregnancy test.
The device was taking its precious time to inform her of a result she wasn’t certain she wanted to see. The bus slowed down and went over a hump. With one hand, she held on to the wall of the cramped bathroom to steady herself. With the other, she pressed two fingers on the pregnancy test to keep it from falling over and going down the drain, which was exactly what Serene felt was going on inside her — like she was spiraling down a proverbial drain of disappointment and failure.
And it was all because of that word.
Perfect.
The word made bile rise to her mouth, spreading bitterness on her tongue.
Over the years, Nolan had done everything in his power to protect Serene from the media and keep their marriage and family life private, but these past months, Serene could sense it coming — the scenario she had dreaded since marrying Nolan. Time would come when the world would figure out that Nolan had married a failure.
Bitterness consumed her. Was she jealous of her own husband? What a ridiculous idea, and yet, there it remained, accusing her of vanity, selfishness, and shallowness — so much so, she could almost believe it to be true. Her life was evidence enough.
While her wonderfully talented and passionate husband continued to skyrocket to legend status in the music industry and was now dipping his toes into the film industry, everything Serene had built continued to fall apart. She had lost control of her creative incubator, Thrive. People she had nurtured and trusted had betrayed her and edged her out of the company she had built from the ground up. The worst part was she had let them, because she couldn’t take the pressure any longer. From the stress of losing her company, she had suffered her second miscarriage after Lily Red’s birth.
Heart-broken by the miscarriage, she had poured her heart into paintings featuring the sanctity of life in a mother’s womb. When she launched her first art exhibit in years — Live. — the social backlash had blown her away. Multiple art reviews criticized her exhibit as a scathing commentary against a woman’s right to choose what to do with her own body. She had been confused at first, but eventually realized that people had taken her art as a stance against abortion. When asked point-blank about her views, Serene couldn’t lie. She had explained that her paintings were reflections of her personal experiences with her two miscarriages, which only fueled her convictions against taking the life of children in the womb. Her response wasn’t met with welcome arms, and the art circles that had once embraced her “artistic genius” had turned on her and labeled her a bigot.
Serene could have dealt with the blows had things been going well back home, but the church her father was pastoring — the one she had grown up attending — was falling apart.
And now, this.
Serene covered the result of the pregnancy test with her finger as she sat on the covered toilet seat in hopes of avoiding having to tell her husband and daughter. She didn’t need to see what the pregnancy test was saying, because she already knew. She would have to go through all of it again. The morning sickness, the anticipation surrounding the pregnancy, and the gnawing fear that again, it might not turn out well. How would she deal with once again seeing the pain and disappointment in Nolan’s eyes?
Serene gripped the edge of the sink to brace herself for the inevitable. The symbol on the pregnancy test reflected a positive result. Serene tightened her hold on the sink as a whirlwind of conflicting emotions rushed through her — none of it anywhere close to the joyous expectation that should accompany news of life forming in her womb. Tears rushed down Serene’s cheeks as she opened her mouth wide to let out an inaudible yell as a means to release the pressure building up within her.
The walls of the trailer were too thin. Nolan’s and Lily Red’s laughter as they played together was a mocking juxtaposition to the waves of fear and grief crashing over Serene inside her temporary cocoon — the bathroom stall of her husband’s luxury tour bus, which was yet another status symbol of her husband’s burgeoning success.
As she listened to her family’s joy, Serene gritted her teeth. She needed to get a grip, so she allowed herself a few more seconds of authentic pain and grief and counted down from ten to one before squaring her shoulders and rising to her feet. She clutched the pregnancy test in her hand and wiped her tears away before practicing her smile in the mirror.
“You’re knocked down, not broken,” she said to her reflection. “Nolan will be fine. You didn’t ruin his career by scoffing. Stop overthinking.” Her hand tightened around the pregnancy test. “This is a good thing. This is hope.”
“Serene? You okay in there?”
The concern in her husband’s voice transformed her practiced smile into something more genuine. Despite everything she was going through, she accessed her gratitude over all the blessings God had given her. Her hardened fist gripped the pregnancy test as she stood to her full height, nodded at her reflection, and slid the door open to walk out of the stall with an image as close to perfection as she could pull off.
“Mom!” Lily Red’s raven ponytail bounced as she waved a piece of paper in the air. Her green eyes sparkled as she coaxed her mother to approach her. “I wrote a song!”
“You did?!” Serene tried to sound excited as she slid herself into the booth across from her husband and daughter. She laid her fist on top of her lap, the test still enclosed within.
“Dad helped too, but I made up all the words.” She held her glittery pink pen and started scribbling something on her paper. Seven years old, and she was already showing as much talent and potential as her father.
“That’s amazing, poppy.” Serene’s eye twitched, her heart overwhelmed by the addition of the pride she felt over her daughter.
“You okay?” Nolan mouthed at her.
She nodded at him. His smile made her draw a breath. The ache in her chest grew. What was happening to her? How could she feel this way when she had these two amazing people in her life? When had she become so ungrateful?
“Do you want to listen to the song, Mom?” Lily Red’s wide, gap-toothed grin could have made the most hardened, humorless cynic grin right back.
“I would love to.” Serene exaggerated her nods. “Go ahead. Sing the song for me.”
“These are the lyrics.” Lily Red slid the sheet of paper across the table. “You can sing along, too.”
Serene’s smile was starting to make her cheeks ache. Nolan’s intense stare made her bristle. She forced a wider smile. “Nolan, what?”
His dark brow rose as he set his guitar aside. “What’s going on, love?”
Serene blushed. Was she so transparent, or did he just know her that well? “What do you mean? You and Lily are singing for me.”
“Why’d you put the guitar away, Daddy?” Lily Red asked. “We’re singing our song now.”
Nolan narrowed his eyes at Serene before brushing his hand against their daughter’s head. “Give us a minute, poppy. Daddy just wants to know what’s going on with your mom.”
Serene’s grip on the pregnancy test tightened. She swallowed hard and bit her lip. There was no escaping this. Not with that fierce stare in Nolan’s eyes. She huffed. “Fine.” She placed the pregnancy test on top of the table and pushed it toward Nolan.
It took a second for what the test meant to register. The delight on his face upon realizing what it meant boggled her. How did Nolan have as much excitement about this pregnancy as the day they had found out about her first? Not a hint of apprehension or doubt was on his face. Just this pure, unabashed joy Serene so desperately wanted a taste of.
As if attempting to grant her unspoken wish, Nolan slid out of the booth, gathered her in his arms, and twirled her around. “Serene, this is amazing! The timing couldn’t be more perfect!” His lips searched hers.
Perfect? What? Why?
“What’s happening?” Lily Red asked. “Why is Daddy so happy?”
That was Serene’s question, too. How could the timing be perfect? What did he mean by that?
Nolan set her back on the ground before pulling his lips away from hers. He cupped her face between his palms, his guitar-calloused fingers brushing her bristling cheeks. “This is great. God works everything for good, Serene. With all the free time you have, you can be at rest, there’s less stress. There’s a greater chance our baby will make it this time.” His mouth was on hers again.
Meanwhile, Serene stood there, responding to her husband’s kiss as best she could while her mind reeled to process his words. All the free time she had? Why? Because she had obliterated her art career and her company? Was Nolan subconsciously blaming her for the past miscarriages? The notion hit her heart like a lightning bolt, electrifying her veins, so it could carry her indignation through her bloodstream, firing up her nerves.
Nolan held her hands and squeezed tight. “This is perfect, Serene. Praise God for this.”
There was that word again. Nothing was perfect. Especially her. Hurt gripping her heart, Serene sat back in the booth and tried to pay attention to her daughter’s song, but as she clutched her stomach, she prayed quietly. For healing and hope. For herself and her child to survive this dark night of her soul, so they could both make it to the Light.
Until then, she would have to grapple with the shame and the blame, the regret and the pain, and grit her teeth every time someone uttered the word, perfect.
This is the first chapter of Christian Women’s Fiction novel, Prodigals Once