Vivian, on the other hand, had taken a little longer to warm up to. But when she had, they’d bonded. Though Vivian wasn’t more than ten years older than Penelope, she thought of her as a mother figure, where Amelia was more of a big sister.
Adam’s lies had entangled them.
Adam’s death had brought them together.
Adam’s life grew inside of her.
Penelope opened her eyes and rubbed her aching side.
In just the past week, her stomach had grown so much bigger. It stretched and Vivian was relentless with the cocoa butter routine. She had stretch marks from Adam’s other two children and she was going to make sure Penelope didn’t suffer the same fate.
More than just her stomach had changed though. A week ago, the entire town changed in fifteen seconds when a tornado ripped through the sky. There had only been a few injuries and no one had died—thank God!
Vivian’s home had been totaled and the front window of the century-old house on Main and Pine had blown in. Penelope’s car had also been totaled, but she thought she’d faired pretty well in that deal. Her beat up old car, which didn’t always run well, had been replaced by her late husband’s vintage Mustang.
Penelope had never been one for flashy, vintage cars, but she couldn’t help herself—she loved this one. It sat against the curb within view. Oh, she might look sexy in it now, from the neck up. But no one would ever give her a second look when they saw a baby seat in the back in a few months.
Sam Jackson, Adam’s lawyer, her boss, and now Amelia’s fiancé, pulled tree branches around the side of the house and stacked them near the porch.
“I have the misting fan set up in the kitchen. Maybe you should go inside,” he called to her.
“Too much paint.”
He nodded as he took his cellphone out of his pocket. He looked at it, smiled, and walked toward her giving the front window a glance first. “Why don’t you go in, get yourself a cold bottle of water, and walk upstairs.”
Penelope frowned. She knew it was much hotter upstairs.
Sam climbed the steps of the porch and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. Amelia is up there. She just texted me. She has something to show you.”
Penelope planted her feet on the floor, took Sam’s hand, and stood with an umph.
“You start up,” he said placing his hand on her back and walking her toward the door. “I’ll get you a bottle of water and meet you up there.”
Penelope shifted him a glance and walked inside the house.
The heat was nearly unbearable, but she walked toward the stairs and started up them.
Sam had redone every tread and in time, when she wasn’t around, they would stain them and the rest of the floors in the century-old house, which they were turning into a daycare center.
Adam’s father had donated the house to them. It was a kind gesture, she thought as she neared the top step. He’d been gracious when they’d needed it.
Amelia had come up with the great idea that they take what Adam had and turn it into a business to take care of his children. Amelia hadn’t asked for anything in return. But when pushed, she’d mentioned she’d like a gym in the basement.
So far she hadn’t stumbled across the secret project Penelope and Vivian had been working on. She seemed to be preoccupied with what she was calling her office upstairs.
Penelope hadn’t been upstairs in weeks. It wasn’t worth the climb. And now that she was at the top of the stairs and the air was thick and horribly hot, she knew she’d been right to stay downstairs.
Sam was right behind her with a cold bottle of water. He handed it to her.
“C’mon, go in,” he said.
“She’s been behind those doors for a week. I don’t want to be the one who goes in unannounced.”
“You’re chicken.”
“Yeah. You go first. She loves you.”
Sam scowled and stepped forward. “Yeah, and I’m the one she punched in the gut when I startled her too. I’m walking with heavy footsteps.”
He twisted the knob of one of the closed bedroom doors and pushed it open. Sticking his head around the corner, he pushed it open just a bit more.
“She’s afraid to come in. You’re not going to throw anything are you?”
Penelope heard Amelia grunt and then the door swung open hard. “Get in here.”
Penelope walked through the thick air toward the room and gasped when she walked in.
Amelia, Vivian, and Vivian’s daughters were standing in the room with enormous grins on their faces. “Well, what do you think?”
Penelope looked around at the transformed area. They had taken the two bedrooms, which shared a Jack and Jill bathroom, and completely renovated them.
The room she stood in was painted a very soothing shade of pale green. There was a wrought iron bed with a lacy white spread. Over the bed, was a painting that she knew Vivian had found in the basement. An antique dresser and mirror sat against the wall and they’d also added a beautiful armoire.
“This is magnificent,” she said with her breath wheezing out. “This is what you’ve been working on?”
“Yes. You needed a place to stay,” Vivian said. “Amelia did almost all of it.”
“For me?”
“You and the baby. This is your home now—when the fumes are all gone.”
She felt the tears sting, but she tried to hold them back.
“I did that.” Emma, Vivian’s four year old daughter said as she pointed to the rocking chair. “The Teddy bear. I made it at Build-a-Bear.”
Penelope covered her mouth and tears quickly rolled down her cheeks.
“You’re such a girl,” Amelia teased as she put her arm around Penelope’s shoulders. “C’mon, there’s more. Try not to cry too much or you won’t be able to see anything.”
She walked her to the bathroom that joined the two rooms. It was painted a soft brown and all the fixtures had been replaced with modern replicas of older ones.
“This is gorgeous. I can’t believe I didn’t know you were doing this.”
“That would have ruined the surprise. Okay, now you can cry your eyes out,” Amelia said as she opened the door that led into the next bedroom.”
When Penelope saw it, she did cry harder. The pastel yellow room with handmade curtains depicting tumbling teddy bears hung from the window. Matching bumpers adorned a crib against the wall. There was a matching rocking chair in this room with a teddy bear on the seat.
Ava, Vivian’s two-year-old, tugged on Penelope’s shirt. “I made that.”
Penelope batted her eyes and ran her hand over Ava’s braids and smiled. Never in her life could she have expected such love. And to think, these women and children had been jaded by Adam’s lies too. But they were there for her and her baby. They embraced her. They loved her.
“I can’t…I don’t…Oh…” she sobbed.
Vivian moved to Penelope and wrapped her arms around her. “Quit crying. You’re going to make me cry.”
“I don’t deserve this,” Penelope said.
“Sure you do,” Amelia added.
Penelope looked up to see her standing with her arms crossed over her chest and Sam next to her with his arm around her shoulders. They made a beautiful picture, she thought. Amelia was very lucky to have fallen in love with him.
“You’ve all been so nice to me…”
“And we’re going to keep being nice.” Amelia walked toward her and whispered, “Adam brought us together. We are all family now.” She took Penelope’s hands in hers. “This is the least he could do to take care of you and your baby.”
Again, Amelia was being sweet and that nearly made Penelope want to laugh. But she’d learned this side of Amelia was as genuine as the side that liked to kick men’s butts.
As Ava and Emma showed Penelope all the parts to their baby’s room, the doorbell rang.
They all exchanged glances and Vivian shook her head. “I’ll get it. It’s probably those boobs putting in th
e window.”
Penelope watched her walk out of the room and then, hand in hand, Sam and Amelia walked out too. She looked down at the sisters of her baby and smiled. She’d be okay without Adam there or any other man for that matter. She and her baby were loved. That’s all that mattered.
Meet the Author
Bestselling Author Bernadette Marie is known for building families readers want to be part of. Her series The Keller Family has graced bestseller charts since its release in 2011, along with her other series and single title books. The married mother of five sons promises Happily Ever After always…and says she can write it, because she lives it.
When not writing, Bernadette Marie is shuffling her sons to their many events—mostly hockey—and enjoying the beautiful views of the Colorado Rocky Mountains from her front step. She is also an accomplished martial artist with a second degree black belt in Tang Soo Do.
A chronic entrepreneur, Bernadette Marie opened her own publishing house in 2011, 5 Prince Publishing, so that she could publish the books she liked to write and help make the dreams of other aspiring authors come true too.
5 Prince Publishing is proud to present The Letter Drawer by Sarah Galloway. Please enjoy this excerpt. You can find this book and many more on the 5 Prince Publishing site at www.5princebooks.com
The Letter Drawer
By
Sarah Galloway
1 ~ The Letter Drawer
They had been so young, so very young. She remembered walking to the school bus, alone and scared. Her first day of first grade and then there he was, a young boy in a dress shirt and slacks, a lunch box in his hand and a blue and red backpack on his back. Tall and quiet, the boy’s eyes did not meet hers. His dark brown hair was well cropped above his big brown eyes. She saw him and lost some of her fear. Walking up next to him, she stood silently as they waited for the bus.
That was the beginning of it. From that moment on, they were never far from one another. She chose a seat next to him in class and she always picked the seat next to him on the bus ride home. They sat in silence at first, both looking straight ahead with their hands folded neatly in their lap.
Later, when she could finally stand the silence no more, she glanced over at him. “My name is Claire, what’s yours?”
The boy’s voice was quiet. “Evan.”
“Evan,” she repeated softly. “Okay.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Okay what?”
“Okay, I like your name Evan. You can be my friend.”
Evan looked at her, a small, confused smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Time went on. They played, built forts, explored the forest behind their neighborhood, and laughed. They grew up together. They became best friends, and that did not change.
Middle school approached and Evan became an awkward, lanky boy while Claire was a dark-haired, green-eyed beauty. She didn’t seem to care. All of the sudden, the boys noticed Claire, but still, she stayed by Evan.
“Hey Claire,” they would say. “Want to come hang out with us after school?”
“No thanks,” replied Claire.
“Why not?”
“I’m studying with Evan.”
Despite the whispering, whining, and complaining that came from the other boys, Claire never wavered. When she left school, she always walked to the bus with Evan. She rode with him, laughed, and told jokes with him, even when the others snickered or sneered.
One day, as they rode next to each other, Claire realized that what she felt for Evan was more than just friendship. She reached over and took his strong, masculine hand, clasping it in her own much smaller one. He looked up at her, waiting for something.
Wondering what was on her mind, he interrupted the silence. “Claire?”
“Yes, Evan?”
Brown eyes sparkled back at her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Evan.”
The gaze lasted a moment longer. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Evan.”
He left his hand sandwiched between hers. “Alright then.”
When the bus came to a stop, Claire stood and waited for Evan to stand beside her and they walked off together, as they always did.
Standing there on the sidewalk, Claire silently stared at Evan, not moving.
Evan was clearly confused. “Ummm, did you want to come over and study?”
“Not really.”
Absently, he scratched the top of his head. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“No.” She halted him with her hand on his shoulder. “Come with me.”
Pausing for a moment, he gave her an inquiring look. “Where are we going?”
She clasped his hand in hers. “Just come.”
They were seventeen and when she took his hand this time, it was because she loved him. She led him into the forest and back through trees they hadn’t been under in years. They walked through the thick underbrush and finally came to a clearing. He looked at it and smiled. A couple of old, beat-up pieces of plywood leaned together were held there by nails creating a sanctuary fashioned by children. Various odd blankets and pieces of bark and wood that were tattered and faded and barely recognizable lay underneath them.
Confused, he glanced from her to their favorite childhood place. “Claire, this is our old fort.”
She pulled him toward it. “Yes.”
“I had forgotten about this place.”
The light breeze rushed through her hair. “Do you remember when we built it?”
Nostalgia was obvious on his features. “Of course I do! Oh gosh, how old were we, nine, ten maybe?”
“We were in third grade. It was fun. Come and sit with me under it now, will you?”
As she pulled him forward, he laughed. “Okay Claire.”
On their hands and knees, the dusty ground was cool and soft as they crawled into the tattered old fort. When they were sitting under it, there was barely enough room for both of them and Evan’s body was cramped against Claire’s so that they would fit.
Claire smiled at Evan and touched his forehead, brushing a lock of fallen hair away from his eyes.
A serious expression fell across his face. “Claire, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
Evan’s eyes trailed off to the horizon. “Why do you still stay with me?”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted his gaze back to her. “I mean, you’re … well, you’re beautiful Claire. All those guys want to be with you, the good looking ones, the ones all the girls want to be with, and you still always hang out with me.”
“Well,” said Claire blushing. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What is?”
Unblinking eyes stared back at her as she spoke. “Evan, I think I’m in love with you.”
A friendly bear hug enveloped her. “I love you too, Claire.”
“No, you don’t understand. Not like a friend, not like we are best friends. I think I have fallen in love with you.”
He looked at her, as though he was barely registering what she was saying. She looked back into his dark brown eyes. Still, he said nothing. Finally, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was a soft and tender kiss, yet it was warm and inviting, too. And it was perfect, like they had done it all of their lives.
The words fell out of her mouth in a whisper. “Evan, I mean it. I love you.”
His voice was soft and tender. “Oh Claire, I love you too.”
Now he put his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body. They stayed that way, he held her and she curled up within his arms, finally able to relax now that she knew that he loved her too.
That had been twenty years ago.
Claire thought back on the memory and smiled. Twenty years. Has it really been that long? Twenty years since she realized that she truly did love Evan. It seems like only yesterday.
She closed her eyes and pictured him as he
looked now. Sharp jaw, strong features, tall and lean and handsome. Evan was the kind of guy that women looked at twice when he walked by, although he didn’t realize it. Those soft, gentle brown eyes that she loved and adored still made her feel weak and he still had the shock of deep brown hair that he had to trim constantly because it grew so quickly.
He had been such a scrawny kid that nobody understood why she went for him when she could have any boy in the school, had she wanted them. They simply didn’t understand love. She had belonged to Evan from the first time she saw him. She had always been his.
Evan had taken more convincing. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Claire, because he did. It was more that he was terrified of her. He was scared to death that she would realize how amazing she was and that she would go fleeting off into the arms of one of the rough looking muscled guys that were always hitting on her. Eventually though, he realized that she only saw him and he began to feel safe with her. In time he learned that they truly did belong together and that she would never leave him. He didn’t quite understand why, but he knew it to be true all the same.
Claire closed her eyes and pictured Evan next to her. She could almost feel his breath on her skin. But it was too soon, he wouldn’t be home for another five months. Sighing, she forced herself up to make breakfast.
Claire pulled the contents from her cupboard to make pancakes and began mixing the batter. As she was holding the bowl under one arm and whisking with the other, she heard Eve’s soft footsteps on the linoleum. The quiet, dainty sound of Eve’s feet were soon overshadowed by Connor’s much louder thuds.
Her two children came into the kitchen, both still half-asleep. Seventeen-year-old Connor was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, while thirteen-year-old Eve stood in a long night shirt and knit sleep pants.
Claire greeted them warmly. “Good morning kids.”
Amelia Page 18
