Angel Unaware (6 page)

Since Dora had detected Penny’s deep loneliness, she’d thought the child would be delighted to have her uncle there, but if she was, she showed no sign of it. They could have been two total strangers sharing a meal.

Maybe they just needed a kick start.

“Aren’t you excited that Christmas is only a few weeks away, Penny?” Dora asked.

Penny’s fork paused midway to her mouth. “I guess so.” She went back to eating.

Strike one
.

“What do you want Santa to bring you this year?” Penny took a sip of milk, and then said, “I haven’t made my list yet.”

Strike two
.

“If you’d like, I can help you make out your list, and then we can take it to the mailbox together.” Dora smiled at the child.

Penny shrugged. “I can do it.”

Strike three
.

Okay, maybe a different approach. “I noticed you don’t have a tree yet. When will we be going to buy one?” she asked Tony.

He stopped eating, raised his gaze to meet hers, and then mumbled, “We won’t be buying a tree. I have one already, and we’ll put it up as soon as I find time to drag it down from the attic.”

“The attic?” Dora was confused. She could have sworn people went to those little roped-off lots on Main Street where they sold fresh-cut fir trees. “You mean you’re not getting a real tree?”

She glanced at Penny and caught the glimmer of hope that shone from her green eyes.

Tony nodded. “I don’t see any sense in getting a real tree. We have a perfectly good one in the attic. It’s stored in a box up there with the ornaments.”

“In a box?” Dora didn’t try to cover the shock in her voice.

“It’s ‘lunium,” Penny added. “Uncle Tony says ‘lunium trees don’t drop needles all over the rug. They’re also flame re … retar …” She glanced at Tony for help.

“Retardant,” he supplied.

“Right. That means it won’t catch fire.” Penny nodded sagely. “In the long run, it’s much safer and cleaner. Just a wise choice all around.” Then she returned to eating.

Once more, the adult-sounding words coming from the six-year-old stunned Dora. Only one thing would explain them. Penny was parroting Tony.

Despite that, Dora couldn’t believe her ears. Penny seemed to accept the fact that they would not have a real tree.

An aluminum tree? Good grief, she hadn’t seen any of them being used by the humans she’d watched in the Earth Pool since the fifties. Penny obviously would prefer a real tree. She deserved a fresh-cut tree, one that would fill the house with fragrances that would forever remind her of happy Christmases. She deserved a tree that would be the perfect backdrop for lights, homemade paper chains, popcorn strings, and candy canes.

Before Dora said something that would cause Calvin to send a lightning bolt crashing down on her, she bit her tongue. Fuming inwardly at the idea of having a tree made out of something in which a turkey should be cooked, she stood, gathered the dirty dishes, and stacked them in the dishwasher.

Behind her, Penny spoke softly. “I need to finish my homework. Can I be excused?”

“Yes, you
may
,” Tony said. Dora heard Penny leave the room. Then she heard the sound of Tony’s chair scraping across the floor. He came to stand behind her. “Great dinner, Dora.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, and moved away from him. “If you want some, the coffee is ready.”

For a time, silence hung in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tony frown and lean against the cabinet. “Is something wrong?”

Dora filled the encrusted casserole dish with liquid soap and warm water to soak, never questioning how she knew to do it. Once more she’d tapped into knowledge that waited right at her fingertips. Too bad she couldn’t simply tap into a way to show Tony what he was doing to Penny.

Dora tried with every ounce of her strength to hold back the words she wanted to say, but she lost the battle. Calvin would probably bring all the fire and brimstone he could muster down on her head, but this had to be said for Penny’s sake. She gathered her courage, swallowed her anger, and spoke from the heart.

Dora faced him, her gaze steady, her tone even and clear. “I could say nothing’s wrong, but that would be dishonest. Much like allowing a child to accept an aluminum tree because she’s afraid to argue for what she actually wants, a real tree.” She held her breath and waited for him to fire her for interfering.

Instead, he just stared at her for the longest time. “Afraid? Penny’s not afraid of me.”

“No, she’s not afraid of you. She’s afraid of
your disapproval
.” Dora walked past him and out of the room.

Tony stood in the kitchen for a long time after Dora left, digesting what she’d said. Penny afraid of his disapproval? Nonsense.

Dora had to be wrong. Penny simply didn’t want to share her Christmas list with a stranger, that was all. She would have to get to know Dora better before she’d confide in her. But Dora hadn’t been talking about Penny’s Christmas list. She’d referenced the aluminum tree. Did Penny really want a live tree?

As his sister, Rosalie, had done with him, Tony had always encouraged Penny to speak her mind and let her wants be known. So why couldn’t he recall one incident when Penny had had an opinion on anything? Was she really afraid of him? If so, why?

Not once, since he’d come to live in his sister’s house, had he laid a hand on the child. Like Rosalie, he didn’t believe in physical punishment. Maybe, on a rare occasion, he raised his voice, but it certainly wasn’t a common occurrence.

Could it just be that Penny had been a quiet, well-behaved child from day one? Perhaps it wasn’t in her nature to be argumentative.

Or had she been afraid to risk his disapproval? Was Dora right?

He poured a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. Cupping the earthenware mug in his hands and inhaling the rich aroma, he stared down at the design in the plaid place mat.

Tony had to admit that when he’d come here to live, he hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of raising a child, despite the fact that he loved his niece very much. Hell, he hadn’t even thought about marriage, much less kids. But he’d done the best he could with the limited knowledge he had of children. But had that been a mistake? Should he have found someone in the family better equipped to raise Penny? Had he done her a disservice by taking child rearing on when he knew so little about children?

For perhaps the hundredth time, he mentally reviewed the options that had been available.

His only remaining parent had passed away when Tony was only a little kid, which was why Rosalie, his much-older sister, had raised him, and which accounted for their closeness and his heartache at her death.

Penny’s paternal grandparents had raised their son, and although they were probably much better equipped to raise Penny, Matt had been a late-in-life, only child and his parents lived in California. Aside from that, neither of them were in good enough health to contend with a six-year-old. And since no one knew where she was, Matt’s good-for-nothing sister, Lisa, wasn’t even a consideration. No, there had been no alternative decision to make. He’d done the right thing by taking on Penny’s care. But had he really taken on Penny’s care or had he merely moved into her home?

With the tip of his finger he traced the navy line in the place mat’s plaid design and thought about the months that had passed since he’d moved into his sister’s home. Friends had warned him to make as few alterations as possible to Penny’s world to help her get through the loss. So he’d tried very hard not to change one aspect of the colonial house she’d known all her life as home.

He’d even tried to cook meals he thought Rosalie would have cooked. However, his culinary skills left a lot to be desired. But Penny had eaten the food put before her without a complaint.

Tony sipped his coffee, and then suddenly straightened. Why? Why hadn’t she complained? Any other kid would have yelled at the top of her lungs about the burnt toast and the overcooked pasta, maybe even refused to eat it. Was Penny afraid he’d get angry if she voiced her disapproval?

Dora’s words rang through his head.

She’s not afraid of you. She’s afraid of your disapproval
.

The more he thought about it, the more he conceded that Dora might be right. Standing, he went to the sink, poured the remaining contents of his cup down the drain, then rinsed the mug and turned it upside down in the dish rack.

As he climbed the stairs, his mind swam with ideas to change the way his niece perceived him.

The next morning, Dora came downstairs and peered out the window in the front door for the morning newspaper. The sight that met her eyes made her gasp in surprise. The world Dora had come into yesterday had been transformed in a fairy-tale landscape.

It had stormed during the night and a new blanket of white covered last week’s snow, which had turned gray and ugly. The wet snow blanketed the limbs of the trees, and the bushes sagged under the added weight.

The plows had already been through, and the sides of the street were piled with hills of sparkling white.

Her first snow
.

With excitement filling her mind to the exclusion of all else, she turned the knob and threw the door open. Disregarding the fact that she was in her pajamas, robe, and slippers, she dashed out into the yard and scooped up a handful of the cold, white stuff.

Squeezing it in her hands, when she opened her fingers, she was surprised to find her palm wet and empty. The snow had melted. Disappointment washed over her. She’d forgotten that snow was so insubstantial, as insubstantial as the new life she’d stepped into. A wave of sadness swept over her.

“Are you trying to catch pneumonia?”

Startled, she turned sharply toward the sound of Tony’s voice. He must have just showered because his hair still glistened with wetness. Leaning against the door frame, he’d crossed his arms over his chest, hooked one leg in front of the other, and flashed that grin that made Dora fight for breath. She gasped at the way her heart fluttered.

“No,” she said hastily, dragging her attention away from Tony. She wiped her wet hands on her robe, and then eased past him into the house. “I was just enjoying the snow. It’s so beautiful and so renewing.”

He straightened. “Beautiful and renewing it may be, but every time a new layer of snow falls, it makes my job more difficult. It’s hard enough building in the cold without having my men slipping and sliding and risking injury.”

Work
.

Why must he think of everything in relation to his business? Why wasn’t he looking at the snow as an opportunity to spend time with Penny building a snowman? “There are some happy aspects to snow: snowmen, snow-ball fights, sleigh riding …”

He laughed and the sound vibrated through her. Her fingertips tingled and her mouth went dry.

“I guess so, but I tend to look at it from a practical perspective. If I owned a ski lodge, I’d be celebrating right along with you.” He took her shoulders and steered her down the hall. “Now, how about breakfast? Penny should be coming down any minute.”

Dora was so preoccupied with his touch and the way it made her skin come alive, that she never thought about the mirror until they were almost in front of it. She couldn’t risk passing in front of the mirror with Tony so close. Slipping from his grasp, she twisted back the way they had come.

“I forgot to grab the morning paper,” she said, heading for the door.

Tony grinned again. “Okay, you get the paper, and I’ll start the coffee.”

Half an hour later, Penny, Tony, and Dora were finishing up their breakfast of eggs, bacon, and juice. Tony and Dora lingered over coffee while Penny ate the last of her eggs.

It hadn’t escaped Dora’s notice that when asked how Penny wanted her eggs cooked, that she had chosen over easy … the same way Tony had his. From the frown on his face, it hadn’t gotten past Tony, either. Dora hoped it was because her words from last night had sunk in.

“Don’t cook supper tonight,” Tony announced out of nowhere.

Penny stopped eating and stared at him. “Why?” Dora asked.

You’ll see. Just be ready to go out when I get here.” He stood, waved at Penny, and then smiled secretively at Dora. Whistling, he gathered his dishes and deposited them on the counter by the dishwasher. “See you both around six o’clock.”

By six thirty, all three were sandwiched in the cab of Tony’s black pickup truck and driving to an unknown destination. A small paper fir tree that swung from the rearview mirror saturated the warm air inside the truck with the sickening smell of artificial pine.

Dora curled her nose and absorbed the brilliance of the colored lights strung across the porches and eaves of the homes they passed. In one yard, deer outlined in tiny white lights bowed their heads as if grazing on the snow. In another, a tall, pine tree bathed in colored lights towered against the night sky. In yet another, strings of white lights dripped from the eaves of the house like sparkling icicles.

Excitement bubbled up in her. How she wished she could be here for Christmas morning to watch Penny and Tony open their gifts. Her excitement dimmed a bit, but was soon reborn when they turned down Main Street and she saw the decorations the city fathers had strung across the streets.

Bright green and red lights crisscrossed the thoroughfare, their colors reflected in the snow. Illuminated wreaths, reindeer, and snowmen hung from each street-light. On the sidewalks people bearing gaily wrapped packages chattered happily to each other as they hurried along. Kids threw snowballs at one another. It was like a picture on the cards Dora had seen the mortals exchange each year at this time.

But Penny didn’t seem to notice any of it.

“I wonder where we’re going,” Dora whispered to Penny. The stoic child shrugged and continued to stare out the windshield. “Aren’t you even curious?” Penny shook her head and burrowed deeper into her baby blue ski jacket.

Dora and Tony exchanged a glance above the child’s head.