Rich continues speaking. “I’ll take the blankets,” he says. He motions me over. “Penny, come here. You can have the bed.”
“Thank you, Richard ,” I say in my sweetest voice as I walk toward him. Amanda snorts audibly as I pass.
The room she’d set up for Rich is spacious and cozy. A big, if somewhat old, queen bed sits in the middle. “You know, Rich,” I add innocently, trailing one finger down his forearm over the tattoos, “it looks like there’s easily enough room for two on that bed.”
Rich makes a choking sound, and Amanda’s face scrunches up like she’d just taken a bite of a bad plum.
“Kidding!” I sing out as I plump down on the bed. I pluck at a piece of lint that had caught at my waist. “I wouldn’t want to do anything Amanda doesn’t approve of.” I offer them both a radiant smile.
“Yes, well…” Amanda trails off, then frowns. “Anyway. I was just making dinner.” She looks at Rich. “I assume you’re hungry?”
“Both of us are famished,” Rich says. “Thanks.”
Amanda turns away and starts down the hall. Her retriever trails at her heels. “I’ll call when the table’s set.”
Rich comes in and closes the door. He waits until Amanda’s footsteps fade from hearing. Then he turns to me, wearing the hugest grin. “That was brilliant!” he exclaims, laughing. “I’ve never seen Amanda try so hard to control her temper! And you knew she had to do it after her promise to us.” He leans back against the doorframe. “You’re something, Penny, you know that?”
“Thanks,” I beam. “It takes a lot of practice.”
Rich grins. “I’d say. Anybody who can throw Amanda off like that deserves my fullest praise.”
“So what is it with you two, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking. How long ago were you together?”
“A long time ago,” Rich stresses. “I met her right around the time I moved to Oregon from New York.”
“She didn’t really invite you to sleep with her, did she? I’m not sure I heard that right.”
“You did.” Rich sighs. “She was always very forward like that. I’m not sure if she would have agreed to let me stay if she didn’t think she had a chance.”
My eyebrows go up. “She’s that fond of you?”
Rich runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if ‘fond’ is the right word. If she wants something, she does all she can to get it. Especially if she feels she’d been slighted in the past.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I was the one to break things off with her. She was too possessive, too… jealous. We didn’t make a good pair.”
“How long did you date?”
“Just a few months. But you should have seen her when I told her we shouldn’t be together. She went ballistic. She threw glasses and plates at me, even tried stabbing me with a fork. When I came to my apartment the next day, I found all my clothes shredded to pieces. She left the scissors on top of the pile. I had to change my locks after that.”
“Wow.” I feel a little less easy about staying in a house with someone like that. “She doesn’t sound particularly stable.”
“She can be histrionic at times,” Rich admits. “But she’s got a good heart. She was only doing what she thought was best.”
“How is cutting up your clothes ‘doing what’s best?’” I ask, the disagreement clear in my voice.
“What’s best for her,” Rich amends. “But as long as you don’t provoke that side of her, she’s usually a sweetheart.”
“I can tell,” I say dryly. “And she obviously still has a thing for you, huh?”
Rich tilts his head forward in the barest nod. “Can you keep a secret?”
“I’ve come this far with you, haven’t I? Without telling anyone? I’d say I’m pretty good at that type of thing.”
Rich smiles. “Good point. Like I was saying, when we broke up, she felt cheated. Like she got the short end of the stick. She told me that she loved me…” Rich sighs, “…but I never said the words back. The truth is, I’ve never had feelings strong enough about anyone to feel that way. I take those types of things very seriously, and don’t just profess my love to whoever is the flavor of the month—” He stops and grimaces. “Wait. That came out wrong.”
“No, no, I get it,” I say. “After my first boyfriend—who I thought I loved—I feel the same way. Saying you love someone isn’t something that should be taken lightly.” My mind flashes back to that scene I’d found in my teacher’s classroom. “Ever.”
“Right,” Rich nods. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”
“Well, who said I wasn’t smart?”
“I did,” Rich smiles, “when you decided to stick with me instead of running away.”
I throw a pillow at him playfully. He ducks out of the way and laughs. “Don’t get too cocky,” I warn. “After everything that’s happened, it’s not like you left me with many options.”
Rich’s good humor dies. “You’re right,” he says solemnly. “I’m sorry for that. In the end, I will make this right. I promise.”
“That’s a hefty promise to keep,” I say. I consider things for a moment. “Although I think you’ll do your best to try.”
“I will.”
The conversation lulls for a bit. Then I speak up. “So, you were saying? About Amanda?”
“Oh. Right. Well, the truth is…” Rich lowers his voice, “…I took her virginity.”
I’m taken aback by the nonchalant way he says it. “I don’t know if that was your secret to tell.”
Rich shrugs. “I didn’t like the way she treated you. Knowing that, maybe it will help you understand some of her behaviors toward me. Toward you.”
“It does put things in a new perspective,” I admit.
“You won’t tell her I said anything?”
I bristle. “What? Of course not.” I shake my head. “Do you even need to ask?”
“Just making sure.”
“Rich, you gave me a free pass to leave you and go to the cops. I decided not to. That was a much bigger secret to keep than this.”
“You’re right.” Rich turns toward the door. “I think I hear Amanda calling. You ready to eat?”
Chapter Nine
Dinner passes quickly and without incident. True to her word, Amanda plays the perfect hostess. I do my best to smile and avoid provoking her. I don’t even comment on the obvious way she keeps eyeing Rich the entire time.
It’s late by the time dinner winds down. Everyone is tired. Rich settles down on an armchair and falls asleep. Amanda goes to her own room, and I lay down on the bed she’d originally intended for Rich.
Whatever I do, however, I cannot find a comfortable position on the mattress. Maybe it’s the uncertainty of everything going on around me. Maybe it’s the fact that I’d slept until three in the afternoon the day before. But after a hopeless hour and a half, I decide to get out of bed. I tip-toe to the kitchen.
I spot a kettle and turn it on. A cup of chamomile might help me get to sleep.
I’m pouring the hot water when I hear a floorboard creak behind me. I spin around—and find Amanda’s dog staring up at me.
I don’t move. I don’t know how the dog feels about strangers, least of all ones his owner obviously dislikes. The retriever considers me for a long moment… then wags his tail and pads over to the fridge. It sits down, then paws at the metal door and makes a sad, whimpering sound.
I walk over to the dog, still cautious. Carefully, I kneel down at his side. He turns his head to look at me. He seems gentle enough. I reach out and put a hand between his ears. “You’ve got a beautiful coat,” I say softly.
The retriever surprises me by giving a happy yelp and licking my face. I’m so shocked I lose my balance and stumble back. Then I laugh.
“Aww, you’re just a big softie, aren’t you?” I coo, going on my knees to give the dog a thorough rub down. “What’s your name?” I hold up the tag on its collar. The word STEEL is etched in cap
s on the metal. “Steel, huh? So you’re a boy, I take it?” He growls. “Sorry. A man.”
That seems to appease Steel. He nuzzles at my fingers. “Well, you’re not scary at all when you’re being all friendly like this,” I tell him, rubbing his head, neck, and belly. “What are you doing up so late?”
He makes another whimpering noise and looks to the fridge. “Oooh. I get it. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
He lets out a small bark. I put my fingers to my lips and shush him. “Shh,” I whisper. “Amanda probably doesn’t want you eating late.” I look back at the empty kitchen and the dark hall outside. “But she’s not around, is she?” Another whimpering sound. “Okay. Tell you what, Steel.” I shake my head. “That’s a terrible name, by the way.” I grin at him. “But it’s not your fault your owner’s a moron, is it? No, not your fault at all.”
I emphasize the last word by rubbing him even more vigorously. He seems to like it. “Okay, so if you promise not to tell—” I make a point of holding his muzzle between my hands and looking him straight in the eye, “—I might be willing to bend a few rules for you. If you behave.” I stand up. “Do you know any commands? Sit!”
To my surprise, his hind legs fold under him and his rear hits the floor. “Very good!” I praise. “What else can you do? Um… roll over?”
Steel doesn’t move. He just hangs out his tongue and looks very adorable. I giggle. “You know, I always wished I had a dog growing up. Of course, they didn’t allow pets at the orphanage—”
“You grew up in an orphanage?”
I spin around. Amanda is standing in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a white, semi-translucent gown. “Amanda!” I exclaim. “What are you doing here?”
She gives me an odd look before walking through the door. “It’s my house, isn’t it? Aren’t I allowed to be here?” She opens the pantry door and takes out a big bag of dog food. Steel goes to her right away. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh.” I look down at my feet. “Yeah, I guess so.” As much as I can, I try to avoid mentioning that aspect of my past to people I meet. I’m not ashamed of it. I just found it impossible to predict how people would react. Some would start doling out all kinds of fake sympathy—as if they really knew what not having any parents was like. Others would instantly change their impression of me, making me feel like I’d become some kind of second-class citizen in the blink of an eye.
That fake sympathy was always the worst.
Amanda, however, does neither of those things. She just intones, “Hmm,” as she pours the brown pebbles into a bowl. Steel starts munching it right away. “So I take it you don’t know your parents?”
“No.” I don’t want to talk about my family, least of all with Amanda. I take my cup and turn around. “I was just going back to bed—”
“I never knew my mom, either,” she comments in an offhand sort of way.
I look back. “What?”
“My mom,” Amanda repeats. “I never knew her, either. And my dad died when I was only six. I was raised by my two older brothers.”
“Oh.” I hesitate. “I’m sorry.”
“Please.” Amanda makes a face. “You probably know better than I how insincere that makes you sound. I hate when people assume they know everything about me just because I’ve known some hardships.” She tosses her hair. “Am I right?”
I turn to face her. “That’s exactly how I feel, actually.”
Amanda laughs. “Good. Come here, sit down.” She gestures across the table from her. Then she winks. “I don’t scratch.”
I step around the mess Steel has made on the floor and come to the table. I look at Amanda warily.
She sighs when I don’t sit down right away. “Penelope, you can relax. I don’t think there’s any reason for us to hate each other.”
“I don’t hate you,” I say, choosing my words carefully.
“But you don’t like me much, either, right? Don’t deny it. I can see it in the way you look at me. Truth be told, I probably deserve it. I don’t get many visitors out here. You were a bit of a surprise. I guess what I’m trying to say…” Amanda takes a deep breath, “…is I’m sorry for acting like a bitch when I met you.” She smiles in a stiff sort of way. “There, I said it.”
I was not expecting that. An apology? From Amanda? After everything Rich had told me about her? It almost strained belief. “You had a right to be. You weren’t expecting anyone other than Rich.” I pick at my rumpled sweater. “I know how I must look, too. But you invited me in anyway, and for that, I’m grateful. Truly.”
Amanda smiles and sticks out her hand. “Truce?”
“Truce,” I agree, smiling back. She has a strong grip.
Amanda laughs when she lets go. Her laugh sounds like chiming bells. “Well, that’s a relief. Whew! Tell me I’m not the only one who felt the tension dissipate.”
“Yeah,” I agree. I sit across from her. “It does make things easier.”
In a flash her good humor dies and her eyes harden. “But if you sleep with Richard,” she says darkly, “I will kill you.”
I’m taken aback by the sudden shift. Just as I’m trying to catch my bearings, Amanda’s face splits into a grin she can’t hold back anymore. “I’m teasing!” she laughs. “I had you going there, didn’t I?”
I smirk back. “With skills like that, you should be on TV.”
“Or the movies,” she says. She nods toward Steel. “She likes you.”
I give Amanda a curious look. “Steel is a girl’s name?”
“What?” Amanda looks at me, then looks down at the dog… and then breaks out into uncontrollable laughter.
“You think her name is ‘Steel?’” she says as she gasps for breath, tears streaming down her face. “No, no!” Amanda whistles, and the retriever trots up to her. Amanda turns the collar on the dog’s neck around and shows me the tag. “‘Steel’ is the brand of the dog tag!” she tells me. “Her name’s on the other side.”
“…Mel,” I read out.
“Short for Melissa,” Amanda tells me, still grinning. “You really think I would have named my dog after a type of metal?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t know what to expect.”
“Well, she likes you either way. Even if you did think she was a boy. Don’t you, girl?” Amanda rubs the underside of her dog’s neck, and Mel wags her tail happily. Amanda lets go, and the big retriever comes to me. I scratch her between the ears.
“Dogs have a much better sense of people than we do,” Amanda tells me. “In fact, a lot of animals are like that. You can tell a lot about a person by how they interact with animals. You know the fastest way to introduce a bad guy in a movie?”
“What?” I ask, curious.
“Give him a scene with a puppy. Have him kick the dog as soon as it comes over.” Amanda shrugs. “The audience will hate him forever.”
I laugh. “That’s probably true.” I look down at the dog. “So is that why you were so hostile at the start? Because Mel was growling at me?”
I mean it as a joke, but Amanda takes the comment seriously. “Actually, yes. But then I saw you and her in the kitchen, and, you know…” she shrugs again. “The rest is history.”
“So Mel’s like your personal litmus test to whether you can trust someone or not.”
“Who better? When you live alone like I do, you learn to rely on your instincts.” She glances at her dog. “Or your best friend’s instincts.” Amanda whistles and pats her leg. Mel cocks her head at her, and doesn’t move. Only when I stop rubbing her between the ears does she make her way back to her owner.
“That’s something,” Amanda observes. “Mel must really like you.”
“I like her, too.”
“Friendships have been formed over less. Come on,” she gestures to the adjacent sitting room. “If you can’t sleep, I’d love to get to know you better.”
***
Amanda had grown up on the outskirts of Seattle. Her dad was h
alf-native, which explained her dark coloring. She had a single picture of him, carrying her on his shoulders and holding each of her brothers in a playful headlock. It had been taken only a few months before he died.
Amanda said he went rock climbing on a cliff he’d scaled dozens of times before. But something went wrong, and he lost his grip. He’d always been too proud to use a harness.
So, Amanda and her brothers were left to fend for themselves. They all looked so happy in the picture. Her dad was extraordinarily handsome. Her two brothers took after him. But even at age six, you could tell Amanda was going to be the true beauty. Her eyes were bright and shining, her hair long and sleek and braided almost the same way it is today.
I feel a strange sadness creep up inside me as I look at the picture. Unconsciously, I finger the locket around my neck. I will never know what my father looked like. I have no pictures from a happy childhood. In fact, all I remember from when I was the same age as Amanda is in the photograph was how much I hated the place where I lived. That disdain faded as I grew up and started appreciating the orphanage for what it was, but—
Amanda’s voice brings me out of my reverie. “You have to embrace your weakness.”
“What?”
“You can’t be ashamed of who you are,” she continues. “I didn’t know my mother and lost my father early. When people learn that about me, they assume I must be some sort of delicate flower. They underestimate me. But I’ve never hidden my past. I wear it like armor. If other people see it as a weakness, so be it. It only makes me stronger.”
“I’d never underestimate you.”
“Then you’re smarter than most. But you also know what it’s like to grow up without parents. How it makes you hard. Determined.” She smiles like we share some great secret. “Sometimes, even angry. Let me tell you something, Penelope. You surprised me. I intimidate most girls—especially if they meet me the way you did. Some might get bitter or angry—you know, try to act all tough—but that’s just a front. Very few would be able to take my derision in stride like you did.”
“Thanks,” I say. “And you know, this place of yours is impressive. I can’t imagine how much it must cost.”
Change of Heart Page 12
