by Lisa Bilbrey
Max put down his burger and looked up at him. “You look like you’re going to puke,” he commented.
Travis laughed. “Kind of feel like it. Listen, you know I love you and Mom, right?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious with the way you keep sucking her face.”
“Right,” Travis said, noting the sarcasm in his son’s voice. “Okay, here goes. I want to ask Mom to marry me, but I need your permission first. So, do I have it?”
Max leaned back in his chair and folded his arms in front of him. “Well, I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”
“Huh?” Travis asked. “Um, your mom’s happiness?”
“No, seriously. If I say yes, what do I get?” Max stared at his father.
“You’re serious?” He whistled under his breath when the boy nodded. “Um, okay, what do you want?”
“Hmm,” Max hummed, bringing his finger up to his lips as he mulled it over. “You got me a new bike for Christmas, and Mom would freak out if you let me get a dog. So, how about we settle on cold, hard cash and call it good?”
At the time Travis had been so nervous that he’d quickly agreed, but later he realized just how disturbing it was that Max would extort money from him. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Max had given him his blessing, and that was all Travis needed. Now, with a simple, princess-cut, diamond solitaire ring in his hand, he was ready to take the next step with Penelope.
Shoving the box into his pocket, he gave himself one more look in the mirror before he grabbed his keys and wallet off the dresser. Walking through the living room, he ignored the catcalls from Russ, Nadine, and Max. Those three were the worst influences on each other, but he could never find it in himself to be upset with any of them. They were family, and teasing from family was normal — at least that’s what Travis told himself.
Penelope was in the kitchen when he walked in. The sight of her in a tiny, silk, black cocktail dress made him breathless. She’d always been beautiful, but tonight she was stunning. With her long, silky, blond hair pulled up into an elegant French twist, Travis had to fight the urge to kiss the back of her neck and slide his fingers under the hem of her dress. The sound of Max burping in the living room brought him back to reality.
“What are you doing?” Travis asked when Penelope took three bowls out of the cabinet. He walked across the room, pulling them out of her hands.
“I was about to dish out this mac and cheese for your father, Nadine, and Max,” she explained while she grabbed at them, but he held them out of her reach and slid his arm around her waist. “Travis!”
“Baby, you are not going to serve them dinner before we go out. My father can come in here and do it.” Travis didn’t give her a chance to argue with him as he spun her away from the counter and out of the kitchen. He looked over her shoulder at Russ. “Yo, old man, go fill these bowls.”
“Travis!” Penelope exclaimed, laughing.
“What?” he asked. “He is old.”
“I am not old,” Russ groused and stood up. His knee popped. “On second thought, maybe I am, but I can still take you over my knee, boy.”
“Just not that one,” Travis snickered. Walking over to Russ, he shoved the bowls into the other man’s hand. “My beautiful date has already been gracious enough to make you dinner. Please make sure you — and not Nadine — clean up the mess.”
“Penelope Stone!” Nadine scolded as she joined them. “I told you not to bother with dinner. It’s not like I would have let them starve.”
“I know, but — well, Max begged me,” Penelope said.
“I did not!” Max insisted, though one look at him and Travis could tell the boy was lying.
“Yeah, whatever, little man.” He shook his head. “Be good for Gramps and Nadine. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” Max mumbled before turning back to his video game.
Travis sighed and looked over at Russ. “Be good for Nadine, Dad. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Russ folded his arms in front of him and pouted.
Placing his hand on the small of Penelope’s back, Travis led her out of the house, down the front steps, and to the curb where his black 1966 Pontiac GTO was parked. He had spent all afternoon polishing up “Bertha” — his loving nickname for the car — and making sure she was in pristine condition.
Penelope smiled and looked over at him. “Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve ridden inside her. The Fourth of July, just after graduation?”
“The night of the party out at the lake.” Travis slid his hands down to her hips. “Of course, I think we spent most of the night in the backseat.”
“Yeah, we did,” she murmured. “That was the night Max was conceived.”
“I know,” Travis said. “I’ve thought about it a lot. Dates and timelines. His birthday is in April; it wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“The best night of my life,” Penelope whispered. Sighing, she looked back at Bertha. “How’s she run?”
“Why don’t you climb in and find out?” Travis opened the door for her. “Are you in?”
“Always.” She slid into the seat, tucking her dress under her.
Travis was careful not to slam the door on her leg. Running around the front of the car, he climbed in behind the wheel, pushed the key into the ignition, and started Bertha up. Penelope squealed when the car rumbled to life. Shifting into drive, Travis pulled away from the curb and set off down the road. A few minutes later, he parked in front of the high school gymnasium.
“What are we doing here?” Penelope asked, shifting her eyes to him.
“It’s a surprise.” He smirked and climbed out of the car, walking around to open her door and help her out. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do,” she murmured. Travis held Penelope’s hand and led her inside.
Watching her, Travis felt his heart swell while she looked around the gymnasium with a smile on her face. While he had been tending to Bertha, Russ, Nadine, and Max had made sure the gym was perfect for tonight. There was baby-pink, buttercream-yellow, and cornflower-blue crepe paper draped over every available surface, and at least a hundred matching balloons were scattered across the floor. Tea light candles and twinkling Christmas lights provided a sparkling glow and enhanced the romantic feel of the room. Travis had rigged the sound system to play music he’d selected earlier, and in the middle of the court was a small table covered with a white table cloth.
“I don’t know what to say.” Penelope breathed. “Why did you do this? I assumed that we were going to Amarillo for dinner.”
“This is where we started,” Travis said, leading her over to the table and pulling out her chair.
“Thank you.” Penelope sat down. She waited until Travis had taken his seat before she added, “What do you mean, this is where we started?”
“When we were freshmen, I somehow gathered the nerve to ask the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen to the spring dance. For some unknown reason, you said yes.”
“Unknown?” she scoffed. “You were my world, Travis. I’d had a crush on you since we were in the third grade.”
“No way,” he laughed, but Penelope nodded. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Oh, come on!” she exclaimed. “You were the popular boy, and I was the shy, quiet girl who liked to read. For some reason, you chose me to be your friend. I wasn’t about to ruin that by telling you how I felt. And I didn’t have to, did I? Because you manned up and asked me out. You brought me to this place, and we danced. When the other girls tried to cut in, you —”
“I told them no, because you were my girl,” Travis whispered, interrupting her. “You’ve always been my girl, Penelope. Even when I was too stupid to admit it to myself.”
Penelope nodded and wiped her tears off her face. “Even though I thought I’d never see you again, I never stopped loving you, Travis. How could I, when I saw pieces of you in Max every day?”
“If I could go back . . ,” Travis shook his head, blowing out a h
eavy breath, “I wouldn’t have let you go; I would have fought harder for you.”
“You wouldn’t have had to fight for me, love, because I was yours.” Penelope grabbed his hand. “All that matters is that you’re here now.”
He nodded and brought her hand up to his lips. “Where I’m supposed to be.”
“Now, what’s for dinner?” she asked. “I’m starving.”
“Your favorite.” Travis reached over and uncovered her plate. “Pizza!”
“Yay!” she cheered, clapping her hands. “And pepperoni, too!”
“Only the best for you,” he snickered.
Penelope laid her napkin in her lap before she picked up a giant slice and took a bite. “Damn, this is good,” she moaned around her mouthful of food.
“Do you remember?” Travis asked.
Her brow crinkled. “Remember what?”
He smiled and reached under the table, pulling out a white, cardboard box.
Penelope gasped. “How? Pete’s went out of business years ago!”
Pete’s Pizzeria had been “the place to be” back when Penelope and Travis were in high school. The owner, Pete Stanley, served the best pizzas in the area. The crust was thin but not crispy, and the sauce was tangy. Travis and Penelope had spent almost every Saturday night there. Pete’s had closed a couple of years after Travis left for the University of Texas to play football. Nobody knew for sure why Pete closed his doors; he’d just gotten tired and moved on.
“I made a few phone calls.” Travis smirked. “Turns out that Pete lives just outside of Dallas and has been yearning for a pair of tickets to the game against the Sharks. So we struck a deal.”
Penelope grinned and shook her head. “Well, aren’t you clever? Why do I feel like you’ve got something else planned?”
He laughed. “Maybe I do, but you won’t know until you finish eating.”
“Fine,” she sighed, picking up her pizza. “You are something else, Travis McCoy.”
“As are you, Ms. Stone.” Soon to be Mrs. McCoy, he thought.
~*~*~*~
Once they were finished eating, Travis stood up and held his hand out to Penelope. “May I have this dance?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
Wrapping her fingers around his, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Travis slid his arm around her waist, nestling her against his chest. Their bodies found the slow, sensual rhythm of the music, letting it direct their movements. He could feel Penelope trembling against him, and if it weren’t for the peacefulness in her eyes, he would have thought she was upset. Bringing his hand up to her cheek, he kissed her.
After a moment, he pulled his lips away and knelt in front of her.
Penelope gasped. “Travis?”
“I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen — maybe even before then. When we were standing here all those years ago, I admitted to myself that I needed you to be my girl. You’ve always owned my heart and soul, Penelope. Be mine forever and marry me?”
She whimpered when Travis fished the small, black, velvet box from his pocket and opened it. With trembling fingers, she reached out and brushed a tear from his cheek and whispered a single word: “Yes.”
“Yes?” Travis exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and grabbing her. He spun her around, making her laugh. “Oh, baby, thank you!”
“No, thank you.” She giggled through her tears. “I love you, Travis.”
With care, he slipped the ring out of the box and slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “I love you, Penelope.”
***
Chapter Two
Ghosts of the Past
When Travis woke up the next morning, he could feel the silly grin still plastered on his face. The moment Penelope had agreed to marry him, everything in his life came together like the stars aligning. Rolling onto his side, he expected to see her asleep next to him, but instead he found the bed empty. Disappointment filled him, but he knew she had never been one to sleep in.
He climbed out of bed and went in search of his fiancée. Penelope was sitting in the living room with Max, watching what looked like an old home movie. It wasn’t until the camera zoomed in on the young, scrawny quarterback that Travis realized it was a video of him playing with his football. He couldn’t have been more than nine years old at the time. He was wearing his white, padded football pants but had taken off his shoulder pads and jersey, leaving just a gray tee. The younger, smaller Travis was running around the field and laughing. He came to an abrupt stop, looked directly at the camera, and smirked.
“Momma, when I’m a big, bad football player, are you gonna record all of my games?” the boy he’d once been asked.
From behind the camera, Loralie McCoy laughed. “Of course I am, honey. I’ll be on the fifty-yard line, cheering as loud as I can.”
Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Travis tried to stifle the cry that slipped out, but he failed. His knees buckled. Penelope was at his side in a heartbeat, holding him in her tight embrace.
“Where’d you get that?” he managed to stammer.
“Your father left the videos here last night,” she whispered. “We should have waited for you to get up, but Max was so excited.”
Nodding, Travis ran his hand over his face and through his hair. “She took that just before she got sick. It was my first year of pee-wee, and we hadn’t won a single game. Last game of the year, we were set to play Memphis. The game hadn’t even started, and they were already talking trash about how they were going to beat us.” Travis paused and smiled through his tears. “We ended up beating them by forty points, and she never missed a moment of it. Looking back, there were signs that something was wrong. She had lost weight and would get tired easily, but she tried to hide it. Always tried to be too damn strong.”
“She tried to be brave for you.” Penelope sighed and brought her hand up to his face. “Travis, Russ left a note.”
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “What’d it say?”
“I didn’t read it,” she replied. When Travis looked up at her, she added, “It was for you.”
“Will — will you sit with me while I read it?” He felt ridiculous for being so emotional over a video of his mother, but it had only just hit him that she wouldn’t be there to watch him marry Penelope. She’d never get to meet Max and see him become a man and have a family of his own. Travis missed Loralie more each and every day.
“Of course,” Penelope said, before turning to Max. “Will you bring your dad’s note here, please?”
Max stood up and, moving with slow steps, he picked up the white sheet of paper and brought it over. When Travis took it, he turned to leave, but Travis grabbed his hand and pulled his son into his lap.
“I want you here, too,” he murmured.
Opening the letter, he began to read it aloud. “Travis, when you were four years old, you begged me to take you out on the tractor with me. I didn’t want to because I was already behind on my harvest and I thought that you’d slow me down. I put you to bed, promising to take you the next day, but to be honest, I didn’t plan on keeping my word. That night, when your momma and I were getting ready for bed, she placed her hand on my arm and said, ‘He’s gonna be gone before you know it. Don’t blink, or you might miss him.’ Her words haunted me all night. When my alarm went off, I got out of bed and got ready to go work.
“I can’t explain why, but when I walked out of my room, I felt the sudden urge to check on you. So, I crept down to your room and opened your door. You were sound asleep, but clenched in your hand was a picture of the two of us. I’ll be honest here, boy; it damn well brought me to my knees. That day, I took you out into the field with me. You sat on my lap, laughing and talking my ear off.
“Travis, I never tell you this enough, but I’ve always been proud of you. And I know that your mother is looking down on you from Heaven with a smile on her face and a tear in her eye. I love you, son. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life. Love always, Dad.”
Travis let the note fall from his fingers and float to the floor as he leaned his forehead against Max’s shoulder. Over the last few months, he and Russ had been working on ridding themselves of years of hurt and anger. They’d lashed out at each other after Loralie’s death, rather than letting her passing bring them closer together. He had already forgiven Russ for abandoning him, but now, with his father’s kind words laid out before him, he was able to accept Russ’s love at last.
“Honey,” Penelope whispered, causing him to look over at her. “Would you like to watch the tapes with us?”
Travis nodded. “Please.”
The three of them stood up and walked over to the couch, where they snuggled together. Penelope picked up the remote and started the DVD. A smile slipped over Travis’s lips when he heard his mother’s voice again. She was laughing, telling him to show her his muscles. On the screen, nine-year-old Travis brought his arms up by his head and proceeded to flex.
“Oh, my God, Dad, you look like such a goof!” Max exclaimed, laughing.
“I know,” Travis admitted. “Though now that you mention it, you look a lot like me.”
Max sat up and frowned. “Are you saying that I look like a goof?”
Penelope was on Travis’s other side, shaking with her stifled laughter.
Travis smirked. “No, I just pointed out that you look like I did at your age. You were the one who called yourself a goof.”
After opening and closing his mouth half a dozen times, Max huffed and leaned back against him. “Whatever.”
Travis, Penelope, and Max spent all day watching the videos that Russ had left for them. More than once, Travis found himself becoming emotional at the sight of his mother or the sound of her voice. Loralie had always had a fire inside of her — the same spirit that Travis now saw in Max.
~*~*~*~
By the end of the week, Travis had watched all ten videos that Russ had delivered. Most of the time, Penelope or Max was with him, but sometimes when he found himself unable to sleep, he’d gone into the living room and watched them alone. Travis knew that Loralie had done everything she could to hold on, but the cancer had put too much strain on her body. He grieved for all the moments that he hadn’t been able to share with his mother.
