Penelope (10 page)

From the truck he pulled out a bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on his way into town. What woman wouldn’t want flowers?

Later he’d bring in the boxes of books from his sister’s house. But for now, he’d just say hello and feel things out.

As of last night, when he’d rested his head on the pillow in his old bedroom, he’d had some clarity. What if Penelope was upset over the kisses they’d shared? What if she’d been caught up in the moment and really didn’t feel that way about him?

After all, he had an advantage over her. He knew all about her. He’d seen her every day for months. But to her—he was a stranger.

When he reached the door, he rang the bell and waited. He truly hoped it would be Penelope who would answer.

However, when the door opened he smiled hoping to ease any earlier tension, but the look on Vivian Monroe’s face did not say
I’m glad to see you.

She fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him from behind the screen.

“I really didn’t think we’d see you again.”

Brock bit down on the inside of his cheek. “I told Penelope I’d be back to help. I’d really like to lend a hand.”

“And you’re standing there holding flowers because you came to help with the play yard?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry if I’ve done anything to upset you. I…”

“I said you didn’t have to call me ma’am,” she said moving toward the door handle.

“I certainly do if I’ve offended you in some way. I feel as though you think I’m a threat.”

Vivian cautiously looked behind her as if checking on the girls by sound before she stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her.

“I’m going to be frank. I find a lot of sketchiness to your story.”

“My story?” He tried to relax his shoulders when he realized he was standing defensively.

“You show up out of nowhere with this story that Adam sent you. You have pictures of Penelope and an item which I’ve been searching for, for years.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That box you brought. You had his grandfather’s pocket watch in it. How did you get that? Where did you get those pictures? And where do you get off telling her that you never knew he was married until he married her? The man was married to me for ten years and has two beautiful daughters.”

“I swear to you, I didn’t know about his girls—or you. And I’m only here because Sergeant Monroe sent me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like that you’ve got her all twisted up. She didn’t know Adam at all, really. And now here you are with stories about him and gifts. Why don’t you come clean? What does his mother want?”

Now he was just confused. What was this woman talking about? Why was she accusing him? This wasn’t what he signed on for—and what business was it of hers anyway? Sergeant Monroe had sent him. He’d asked him to fulfill a dying wish and he’d done so. It just so happened that he was immensely attracted to Sergeant Monroe’s wife—the younger one because the one in front of him was just damn scary. But if anyone was going to kick him off the porch of the house, it was going to be Penelope.

“I’ve never met Sergeant Monroe’s mother. The only contact I’ve had with her was when I called to find Mrs. Monroe,” he reminded himself he’d have to be more specific with that phrase. “Penelope.”

“She just sent you on over?”

“No.”

That had Vivian shifting her weight, which meant he’d surprised her.

“His mother went into hysterics when I called. I mentioned that I was looking for his wife. And then specifically for Penelope. The woman screamed and cried. I have no idea what she was going on about. And then his father calmly took the phone and directed me here.”

Her shoulders softened. “That would make more sense. He’s a very calm man and I don’t know how he does it.”

Brock smiled. “I do remember Sergeant Monroe making a comment once about his mother being the most high strung woman he’d ever known.”

“For once, I couldn’t agree with him more.” She clasped her hands in front of her and wrung them. “I’m not comfortable with you moving in on Penelope and getting her all worked up though. I was more than a little surprised to find you kissing in the kitchen.”

Okay, he had that one coming. His mother would say the same thing if she’d seen them. But this wasn’t Penelope’s mother.

“I understand,” he said. “Perhaps we were a bit irrational.”

She shrugged. “Well, all I’m asking is that you be mindful of her. She jumped into a marriage. She’s pregnant and widowed. I don’t want her hurt.”

He wasn’t sure why it surprised him that a woman in Vivian Monroe’s position would care about someone like Penelope. She should have been a threat and Vivian should have had the same reaction as Sergeant Monroe’s mother had. “Ma’am, I’d never hurt her. I can promise you that. Swear it even.”

She was studying him. Eventually her eyes lightened and he knew that she’d come to peace with him.

“She’s at work right now. She’s not even here.”

Brock nodded. “I came to help out here. That was my promise. And I brought some items for your classrooms,” he added. “My sister was a teacher before she had kids. She sent her classroom books for you if you’d like them.”

For a moment he thought her eyes might have misted over. Then, a smile formed on her lips. “I think that is very sweet. We’d love them.”

“I’ll get them from the car.”

She nodded. “Before you leave I’d like you to give me her address so I can send her a card. That is more than generous of someone to do that.”

Now he smiled wide. “It’s just how my family works,” he said with pride. A statement was never truer than that one. If his mother, father, and brother knew what he was up to—they’d be there too. Maybe if he found they needed it, he’d call his dad and brother and have them come down. His father was a genius with a saw and wood. And by the looks of his father’s garage, his brother wasn’t too shabby at designing either. He turned toward the car to get the books. It might just work in his favor that Penelope wasn’t home. If he could win Vivian over, things were looking up.

~*~

The look on Sam’s face was priceless, Penelope thought, but her own embarrassment had her face flushed with heat. In front of her were no less than sixteen mini candy bar wrappers.

“Don’t grin at me like that,” she said with her mouth full.

“I can’t help it. You’re cute.” He moved to her and wiped his thumb over her chin. “You had a little right there.”

Penelope swallowed hard. “Why do you keep buying these? I’m going to gain sixty pounds.”

“You’ll probably get diabetes too.”

She slumped in her chair. “Can we do something different for the snacks in there? Your clients don’t even eat them.”

“Honey, how can they? They’re all out here on your desk.” He laughed. She sulked.

It was true though. She was going to be sick and fat. She didn’t want that.

Penelope leaned back in her chair and rested her hands on her growing stomach. “What are you going to do when I leave?” she asked. Both of them knew this was a temporary job. When the baby was born she’d go to the daycare to work. That had been the plan.

His grin diminished. “My mother has already told me she’ll be back.”

“That’s good.”

Sam shrugged. “She’s a great help, I won’t lie. It’ll be nice to have her here until I hire a replacement. But she’s already driving Amelia crazy with wedding ideas. I don’t think Amelia is humored by it. She wants a small and very simple wedding.”

“I know. I’ve tried to ask her about details and she just shuts me up. She doesn’t want to over think it.” She rubbed her stomach. “At least no matter what she chooses, by New Year’s Eve I can wear a regular dress.

Sam smiled. She knew it wasn’t the thought of her wearing a normal dress. He was thinking about New Year’s Eve. She could see it sparkle in his eyes.

The thought made her a little sad, so she gathered the candy wrappers and threw them into the trash can under her desk.

Adam had gazed at her, made her swoon. But looking at Sam, just thinking of Amelia, she was sure no one had ever thought of her like that.

Though, she thought again as Sam retreated to his office, the other night in the street when she’d tripped and Brock had caught her, he’d looked at her like that.

Those dark eyes had become darker—intensified by the dark lashes that hooded them. Was that the look? Was that sparkle in Sam’s eyes the same as the shimmer that had been in Brock’s?

The ringing of the phone snapped her out of her delusion.

An hour later, Penelope was in Adam’s Mustang headed back to the old house on Main Street. The town was looking normal, she thought. The broken trees, which had been blown over in the tornado, had been cut away. The windows in houses had been fixed. There weren’t as many men hanging from electric and telephone poles now either. Everything was healing.

She hadn’t driven out to where Vivian’s house was. She wasn’t sure her heart could handle it. In less than a moment, everything had been lost. All she could do was continue to pray and thank God they hadn’t been home. They’d been at the old house on Main arranging the basement for Amelia to have a gym. After all, it was all she’d asked for and they owed her so much more.

Vivian would probably never say that aloud, but Penelope sure would make it a point to let her know how much she appreciated her giving up everything just to help them out. She could have walked away with everything, but she hadn’t.

As she turned down Main Street she could already see the sign in front of the daycare. It was beautiful. The sun reflected off the new window. The grass was plush and green, because Sam kept it that way. And the street had a truck on it, which made her heart rate kick up.

Brock was there.

Instantly her palms grew damp. He’d come. He’d actually come to help.

As she parked the car she tried to ignore the flutters in her stomach, which weren’t the baby moving. Truly he was a man of his word.

A quick check in the mirror and she decided she looked as good as she possibly could. And just as quickly, as she maneuvered her body from the car, she remembered there was more to her than a pretty face. A man might like a pretty woman, but one with a bowling ball shoved under her shirt—that was another thing.

Either way, she wanted to see him. Was he there just because he said he’d be? Or maybe—just maybe—did he come back because of her?

She stopped at the end of the walk and looked up at the house. She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. Certainly her thoughts were being run on desperation. That had to stop. She couldn’t just want to be with a man because he said nice things or fulfilled a few promises. Adam had done that. Resting her hands on her stomach she willed herself to calm.

Brock Romero was just a nice guy. She had to remember that. He wasn’t there to sweep her pregnant self off her feet. There was no fairy tale here. This was reality. She was a widowed single mother and that was what she’d always be.

He was the man who held her husband when he died and was making good on a promise. In a week he’d go back home and she’d grow bigger. This was how it was and she knew that well enough.

But, for a moment she’d put on a smile, cordially welcome him, and cry herself to sleep when she went to bed.

As she climbed the front steps she could hear whistling. Was that
Zippity-Do-Dah
? Instantly, a smile formed on her lips. She turned the knob to the front door. Oh, thank the Lord, the air conditioner had been fixed and turned on. She was going to have to kiss someone’s feet for that.

Of course, the cool air didn’t do much once she saw him and her body heat began to rise. He was seated on the floor with a small yellow chair between his outstretched legs. He had on a baseball cap, turned backward, and he was assembling what looked like his hundredth chair.

The whistle stopped on
what a wonderful day
and he looked up as if he’d sensed her. The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile and a dimple deepened in his cheek.

Okay, she just might faint right there. He was the heat in the room and she was burning.

“Hey,” he said with a nod of his head. “I’d get up, but I think my legs are numb.”

She looked around the room. Chairs and tables, in mini size, and a bookcase had been assembled. “You did all of this today?”

“Yeah. I haven’t even scratched the surface. You guys have a lot of stuff for a few rooms. But I think the kids are going to be comfy.” He pushed the small yellow chair back and rolled to his knees. He stayed there for a moment before rising and immediately reaching for his left shoulder.

When he winced Penelope moved toward him. “Are you okay?”

“Scar tissue,” he said as he rolled his shoulder. “It tightens up.”

She licked her lips as she moved toward him. “Scar tissue? What happened?”

“Bullet.”

Her hand rose as she neared him and moved right to his T-shirt sleeve. “Can I see?”

“Hold on,” he said as he lifted off his shirt.

Penelope held down the sigh that so wanted to escape as he revealed what was under that shirt. A tight stomach. Sculpted shoulders and chest. He had a tattoo on his side—a U.S. flag. But marring the fine surface of the man’s skin was the raised red scar only inches from where one would hold their hand over their heart.