by Becky Wade
“Much better,” Penelope answered. “She’s been steadily improving. So much so, the doctors are going to release her from the hospital today.”
“Beaut,” Sam said in his charming accent.
“She’ll need to continue taking medications and she’ll need to go in for appointments pretty often.” She pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “But they’re confident that she’ll regain full health.”
“Who’s keeping Madeline today?” Eli asked.
“A few of Aubrey’s friends.”
“Are they still going to need help with Madeline after they’re home?” Eli asked.
“Yes. Aubrey’s not strong enough to take care of Madeline by herself yet and Theo really needs to catch up on work. Several of us are going to take turns at the house when Theo’s not there, so Aubrey can rest.”
“I can help weeknights and weekends,” Eli said.
“I’ll bring food by for them,” Sam offered.
“That’s fabulously kind. Thank you.”
Sam moved Penelope’s sliders onto buns and went to work adding garnishes.
“Sam and I ate at Pablo’s last night,” Eli told her.
“We had the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had,” Sam said.
“Then we went out to Sam’s farm and I tried to talk him into watching the Rockies game.”
“Eli’s interest in watching baseball on TV is one of his flaws,” Sam said.
“Baseball’s cool,” she said.
“Baseball’s awful,” Sam stated.
“Don’t waste your breath trying to convince him that it’s not,” Eli said to her. “We ended up watching Aussie Rules Football.”
“Best sport in the world,” Sam said.
“He calls it footy.” Eli lifted his brows.
“Is it like American football?” she asked.
“Better,” Sam answered. “There’s not so much starting and stopping.”
“It’s what would happen if soccer and rugby had a baby,” Eli said, then headed toward the trash can a few storefronts down, doubtless so he could throw away his empty pie plate.
“Eli’s a good guy,” Sam said to her when Eli was out of earshot.
“Yeah. He is.”
He glanced up from her sliders, meeting her eyes. “Are you going to go out with him?”
“I think I might be dooming myself to heartbreak if I do.”
“Or opening yourself up to happiness.” He handed her the plate of food. Eli carried her tea and Penelope shot Sam a grateful wave as they parted.
“Still starstruck by Sam, I see,” Eli said.
“Yep,” she replied fervently.
They found a sidewalk bench in the shade and she started in on the sliders. Delicious.
Companionable quiet settled over them as they watched people flow past.
Inwardly, Eli argued with himself. Penelope wouldn’t date him until he was honest with her, but as soon as he was honest with her, she wouldn’t want to date him.
She looked incredibly cute today, with her hair piled on top of her head. Her long legs were bare and toned. And she smelled like pie.
He didn’t want to push her away. Yet in order to win her over, the first obstacle he had to overcome was her belief that she couldn’t count on him to be honest. And, frankly, if he couldn’t be honest with her even when he didn’t want to be, he didn’t deserve to date her.
“I learned on Monday that I’ll be restationed to Germany in January,” he said.
His words appeared to catch her unprepared—like a thief sneaking into a house. Her face went blank as she turned to him. “Restationing means that you’re being sent there permanently?”
“Semi-permanently. I’ll be sent somewhere else after a few years there.”
He thought he saw a flare of sadness in her features. “How do you feel about the news?” she asked.
“Not great.”
“Germany’s beautiful.”
“Germany comes with language differences, cultural differences, and climate differences.”
“Yes, but think about all the places you’ll get to see.”
“Right, but you live here. I don’t love the idea of moving far away from you.”
She went still.
“I’m afraid that, because I’m going, I won’t be able to convince you to give me a shot.”
“I’m glad you told me that you’re going, Eli. I appreciate it. I do.”
A vague answer. She had not responded by assuring him that he did still have a shot. His mood darkened at the edges like paper held to a candle flame. He’d done what he’d failed to do the last time. He’d told her about an upcoming assignment as soon as he’d found out. He should find comfort in that. But didn’t.
They talked about other things while she polished off the food, then they visited a few different shops. She purchased a bar of handmade soap, a fake USA tattoo for her cheek, and a pottery fruit bowl.
On the way back to the pie truck, they passed a nondescript corridor between buildings. He gestured to it and asked her, “Do you remember?” Their kiss had occurred just yards from where they were standing.
“I do.”
He walked into the corridor.
She hesitated. He kept walking, hoping she’d trail behind him. She did.
The passage opened into the small courtyard. On its far side, the river. The town bank and post office wrapped around its other sides. It had been deserted the night they’d kissed. Then, the sky had been a blanket of stars and red and white flowers had filled the planting beds. It was deserted again now, the bank and post office both closed. The sky shone bright blue. The planting beds overflowed with pink flowers.
This was the first time he’d returned here since that night, which caused memories from the past to hurtle forward.
He’d been carrying her packages. He set them down carefully. “I think I reached for your hand, like this.” He extended his arm. “May I have this dance?”
For a long moment, she didn’t move. “A few days ago, my answer would have been no.” She set her hand in his.
“But then I calmed your niece’s crying fit.”
“And bought me sliders.”
“I knew those sliders were a good investment.”
Wordlessly, they two-stepped around the courtyard. No music this time, just the distant sound of the crowds, birdsong, and the hum of the river pouring over rock.
He twirled her and she spun beneath their joined hands. She came up against him, her palms against the fabric of his T-shirt. His profile was just a few inches from hers. Her body felt feminine and lean in his arms.
Heat rushed through his bloodstream. His breath came fast and uneven.
At this point, they’d kissed the last time. He simply stared at her this time, waiting to see what she’d choose. What she wanted.
He saw desire and conflict and worry in her.
He willed her to care about him more than she cared about her rule or the fact that he’d be gone in January—
She stepped back, breaking the contact between them.
He held himself still.
“Thanks for the sliders and tea!” she said. “Good day to you.”
Then she lifted her packages and hurried down the corridor. He watched her go, unsure whether she was fleeing from him, the pleasure he offered, or the pain that would come as part of the bargain.
Chapter Seven
Herding cats had to be easier than coaching second grade boys’ basketball.
On the evening of July fifth, Eli led the Sharpshooters’ practice. He ran drills, taught, ran drills, taught, then finished with a scrimmage. Several times, he stopped their scrimmage to explain or act out a visual example he wanted them to follow.
“Okay, guys,” Eli said when they had just five minutes of time left. “Grab a drink, then bring it in.” The boys, red-faced and sweaty, located their water bottles and plopped onto the court’s floor in front of him.
Creighton, who’d spent the
practice sitting on the sidelines swiping and punching his phone’s screen, had informed Eli earlier that the next team they were playing also had zero wins. This meant Monday night’s game was the best chance they’d have all season of coming out on top.
“I know you guys usually get to the games fifteen minutes early, but I’m going to send out an email to your parents, asking them to bring you to the game on Monday twenty minutes early because I have a surprise to give you.”
That caught their attention.
“What is it?” the shortest kid asked.
“You’ll have to get there twenty minutes early to find out. So. What two things did we work on the most at practice today?”
“Pooping and farting,” the class clown answered with a snicker.
Eli pretended he hadn’t heard.
“Defense,” one boy said.
“Rebounding,” another offered.
“Yes.”
Creighton appeared at Eli’s side. He clapped three times. “Hustle out there, guys. Hustle!”
“Does Coach Theo ever bribe these kids?” Eli asked Creighton.
Creighton lifted his brows and gave a small shake of his head.
“That’s probably because Coach Theo doesn’t think you’re old enough for bribery,” Eli said to the team. “But I do.”
“What’s bribery?” the least-coordinated boy asked.
“It’s when you offer to give something to someone if they’ll do what you want in exchange. I’m guessing that parents frown on bribery. But lucky for you guys, I’m not a parent.”
Their small faces sharpened with interest.
“We’re playing the Bricklayers on Monday night and we’re going to bring a full court press defense. We’re also going to rebound. When we have the ball, we’ll take our time and attempt smart shots. If you steal the ball from the other team or if you rebound a ball, Coach Creighton here is going to add a tiger claw tattoo to your arm the next time you sit on the bench.”
“A permanent tattoo?” a red-haired kid asked.
That’s right. We’re going to ink a permanent tattoo onto your arm on the sidelines of a youth basketball game. “A temporary tattoo. At the end of the game, you’ll count up your tiger claws and we’ll see who has the most.”
“So what are you bribing us with?” Redhead again. His mouth twisted with confusion.
“The tattoos. If you do what I want—steal the ball or rebound the ball—I’ll give you a tattoo. Deal?”
“Deal,” they said in unison.
• • •
Penelope immersed herself in a bath composed half of water and half of thick, glossy, vanilla-scented bubbles. Her fingers drifted back and forth, creating fanciful patterns in the suds.
Everyone stationed at Ricker Air Force Base left eventually.
Her years in Misty River had taught her this truth very, very well. She didn’t date airmen in part because they left. So why had the realization that Eli would be leaving caused a wrench of pain so deep within that she still hadn’t recovered from it?
The town, their social circle, Theo, herself. None would be the same without his distinctive presence.
Roy’s flat face appeared over the lip of the tub. His attention ticked from bubble to bubble until he finally started batting at them with a paw.
Yesterday, when she and Eli had danced, she’d once again been confronted with her enormous longing for him. Her whole body had been aching to kiss him. Yet her deep emotions concerning him were at war with one another. She hadn’t forgotten Lila’s tears. Michelle’s tears. Destiny’s tears. The pain Eli himself had caused her the one time she’d risked kissing him. The fact that he’d be just as gone, come January, as all the other airmen who’d come before him.
She’d told Sam that she did not want to doom herself to heartbreak. And a truer statement had never been given.
With Eli, falling in love felt like the easiest option in the world. It would take no effort to fall. He was brave, selfless, impressive, funny, smart, and inexplicably dedicated to her.
Heartbreak was the thing that would take effort. If things didn’t work out with Eli, she’d be left with a canyon of sorrow to scale.
• • •
Eli pulled down the top few inches of his flight suit zipper on Friday as he strode away from his aircraft across the tarmac. He clasped his helmet bag in one hand and used his other to rake his sweat-drenched hair into place. Now that the aircraft were parked safely in their shelters, the shrill noise of their jet engines was fading quickly. The Raptors that had been so dynamic minutes before now looked dormant, the smell of burnt fuel the only symbol of the power they’d just displayed.
Inside the squadron lounge he pushed two pieces of bread into the toaster, ate a banana, took a long drink of water, poured himself coffee, then waited for Shooter to finish with the butter and butter knife. The other pilots were all talking and jostling in the small space, trying to grab food and a drink during the few minutes they had to spare before the debrief.
They’d just completed an air-to-air mission. Half of them had been designated good guys. Half of them bad guys. They’d all had to operate under the assigned parameters, make split-second decisions, and fly with precision.
Their cockpit displays had been recorded throughout the exercise and they were about to review the tapes, which meant each pilot’s mistakes and successes would be shown to all.
Eli would find out if he’d won the war or lost it. They’d eventually agree on learning points, but until then he could count on the debrief to be tense and hard-hitting. No matter how senior you were, if you’d screwed up during the mission, even the junior pilots would call you out.
He didn’t think he’d screwed up. He was a perfectionist when it came to flying and he expected to be told during the debrief that he’d done well.
Even so, this was not the time to think about poetry.
He placed his toast on a paper plate and buttered it while thinking about poetry.
The next obstacle in the path to winning Penelope’s heart? Show her he could communicate his feelings.
He’d decided to write her a poem.
Looking for inspiration, he’d studied “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee Jr., a favorite poem of aviators. He’d read stuff by Shakespeare, Browning, and Byron.
He’d started a dozen poems and ended up throwing them all in the trash because he didn’t think Your hair is like a cirrocumulus cloud or I like you more than pulling nine Gs was going to do the trick.
“Do you know anything about poetry?” he asked Skid.
She swallowed a mouthful of power bar, eyebrows lifting. “A little. Why?”
“I’m trying to write a poem.”
She grinned. Her frizzy blond hair always looked angry to be trapped into the low ponytail she wore on the job. “Why?”
“Because I think Penelope might like it.”
“There’s nothing you could do to make Penelope like you,” she teased.
“That’s really helpful, thanks.”
“I’d advise you to keep it simple and honest,” she said.
“Rhyming? Not rhyming?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you break open that lump of coal you call a heart and force it to express itself.”
“Okay, but what style of poem should I write? How long should it be?”
“If I give you more help, Penelope won’t be moved because she’ll know it didn’t come from you.”
He scowled.
“I wouldn’t stress about it too much,” she said as she walked toward the debriefing room. “All your efforts are going to fail, Big Sky. That woman is out of your league.”
• • •
“What are you smiling about?” Aubrey asked Penelope on Sunday.
“Am I smiling?”
“It was subtle, but yes. You had a dreamy kind of smile on your face.”
“I’m just glad that you’re home and doing so well.”
“Aww.” Au
brey sat on the floor of her living room next to one of those baby gym thingamabobs. Madeline lay beneath the arching bars and dangling toys on a blanket, looking upward with an expression Penelope translated as polite confusion.
While it was certainly true that she was glad Aubrey was home and doing so well, her smile had sprung from a different source entirely. She’d been looking at the text Eli had sent her yesterday.
I know you’re not interested in going out on a date. But would you be willing to share your weekend schedule with me? That way, I can run into you coincidentally. I have something I’d like to give you.
The text had given her a swoony thrill when she’d first seen it. Since then, she’d viewed it several more times because it continued to deliver on thrills.
She’d debated how to respond. Eventually, she and Eli would see each other at a social gathering. He could give her whatever he had to give her then.
Only, he’d sparked her curiosity. And as ill-advised as it might be, she didn’t want to wait for a social occasion to see him again. She’d texted back, I’ll be at my apartment for a few hours on Sunday afternoon, starting at 3:00. You can run into me coincidentally then.
Theo had taken time off for Madeline’s birth and then again for Aubrey’s more recent hospitalization. He’d been working from home as much as possible the past few days, but he still had a lot of business to catch up on at the office. Penelope and the rest of Aubrey’s circle had been lending a hand whenever Theo was away. Aubrey was growing stronger by the day. Soon she wouldn’t need backup.
Penelope had gone to church this morning and come here after. She expected Theo to arrive home soon to relieve her, which would give her time to straighten her apartment and her hair before Eli’s visit.
Picking up the European Pies cookbook she’d brought with her, she made herself comfortable on the sofa and started to read.
Aubrey levered herself to standing, then reached down to scoop up the infant. “Madeline’s getting sleepy. I’m going to go tuck her in.”
“You bet. Call if you need my help with anything.”
“I will.”
She eyed a recipe for Swedish apple pie. How did one say yummy in Swedish? She looked it up on her phone. Smaskigt. This pie looked smaskigt.
