First Time: Penny's Story (First Time (Penny) Book 1)

by Abigail Barnette

  Annie lived about twenty minutes away, in a blue-collar neighborhood with teensy, tidy houses and cracked sidewalks. Ian parked in front of one of the long, narrow homes, separated from its neighbors by such slender strips of grass they might as well have been connected.

  “Ready?” Ian asked, and he reached over to squeeze my hand.

  I felt like I was going to the dentist to have a tooth pulled.

  I smoothed my skirt and touched my tousled bob as we walked to the door. I hoped I’d done a good enough job with the concealer that the dark circles under my eyes didn’t give away the fact that I was pretty hung over from my pre-Thanksgiving partying the night before.

  Ian didn’t knock, he just pushed the door opened and called, “We’re here!”

  His nephew, Danny, was lounging on a sofa directly to the left of the door. The curtains over the wide front window were open, letting in the gray November light and causing a glare on the flat screen television positioned in front of a clearly out-of-commission fireplace. Danny sat up to greet us; it looked odd to see a priest in his black pants, short-sleeved black shirt, and Roman collar just laying around.

  “Uncle Ian. Penny. Good to see you again.” He cleared his throat, as though he were only just remembering the last time we’d seen each other.

  “Nice to see you, too.” I didn’t know what I should do, so I hugged him. He seemed taken aback. Were you supposed to hug priests?

  “Sorry,” I said, stepping back. “I didn’t get a lot of affection as a child. I don’t know how to do family dinners.”

  “Nah, you’re fine,” Ian said, steering me toward the dining room. He’d carried the promised bottle of wine with him as we navigated around the La-Z-Boy near the archway that separated the two living spaces. The dining table was far too big for a family of three, so I assumed Annie hosted many of the holiday functions. A white lace tablecloth covered the top, and a centerpiece of fake autumn leaves and a hurricane shade over a battery operated pillar candle stood proudly in the center. On the walls, framed pictures showed people that just had to be related to Ian; they all shared the same black hair and green eyes. I spotted Ian in one photo. He was younger, his hair darker, without any gray. He stood with two other adults, one of whom bore a ridiculously striking resemblance to him, and a whole gaggle of kids.

  I didn’t have a chance to ask about it, because Ian took my hand and kept walking, marching us straight through the swinging door at the back of the room and into the tiny kitchen, which was currently occupied by a tiny, dark-haired woman and a huge guy whose buzz-cut and ruddy face made him resemble a gym teacher in a movie. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face as he pulled a pie from the oven.

  “We’re here,” Ian said again, and the dark-haired woman wiped her hands on a kitchen towel.

  She came toward us with a warm smile and hugged Ian hard. “I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.”

  “I thought you’d wait at least until after the blessing to start guilting me.” When she released him, he put a hand at the small of my back to push me gently forward. “This is Penny.”

  “Ah, the infamous Penny,” the gym teacher guy said with a bright smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “This is my sister, Annie, and her husband, Bill,” Ian said.

  All the warmth faded from Annie’s expression, though she still smiled. “How nice of you to come.”

  “How nice of you to have me,” I said, suddenly wanting with every fiber of my being to not just make a good first impression but to make her like me. Her approval seemed to be of the utmost importance. “This will be a great chance to get to know you all.”

  “Well, not all of us,” Annie corrected me, still with that insincere smile. “Don’t forget, there are many of us across the pond. I hope you have a passport.”

  “Is there anything we can help with?” Ian inserted himself into the conversation smoothly.

  “No, no, I’ve got it all under control. Why don’t you go and visit with Danny and keep out of the way,” Annie said, shooing us toward the door.

  And that was it. First impression made, and I got the feeling I’d been found wanting.

  As we passed through the dining room, I stopped Ian by the picture I’d noticed. “Are these more of your siblings? The ones I need a passport to meet?”

  “Yeah, that’s David,” he said, pointing to the clone standing beside him in the photo. “And his wife, Brandy. She’s from California. And those are their children—” Ian listed off the names of all seven children, and I didn’t catch a single one. They all looked exactly the same, which didn’t help.

  “Big families,” I said, a little stab of fear lancing through my heart. Ian had said only three or four, right?

  “Well, you know. Catholic.” He shrugged.

  What the… I really hoped he didn’t expect me to push out that many kids.

  “Don’t blame the Church,” Danny said, coming up to stand beside us. “Nobody forced them to have that many.”

  The kitchen door swung open, and Bill emerged with a gleaming silver platter bearing a turkey that could have come out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was clear from the spotless state of the house and the presentation of the bird that Annie took pride in her housekeeping. When she followed behind Bill with a bowl heaped with more mashed potatoes than five people could reasonably eat, I said, “Annie, the turkey looks amazing.”

  “Well, it didn’t come out as brown as I would have liked,” she said, exasperated.

  Ian put a hand on my shoulder and gave a little squeeze. “Take the compliment, Annie.”

  As Annie and Bill turned back to the kitchen, I tried again. “Can I help bring anything to the table?”

  “No, the kitchen is far too small for three people, you’d just be in the way,” she replied, and in nearly the next breath, she ordered, “Danny, come help with this.”

  When they disappeared again, I turned to Ian and mouthed, “What the fuck?”

  He put his arms around me and kissed my forehead. “Just let it go, for now. She’ll thaw.”

  “None of that monkey business in my house,” Bill joked said he came back with a plate of cranberry sauce. It was the kind from a can, cut into neat slices.

  I liked Bill.

  Annie came in with onions au gratin. By the time they’d brought out the bread, a green bean casserole, and several other dishes of the oh-god-I’ll-have-to-run-off-all-those-carbs variety, I began to doubt that it would be just the five of us.

  “Do you have other kids coming?” I asked Annie. There had to be at least four more people on the way, to justify this much dinner.

  “No, Danny is our only child,” she said tersely.

  Ian coughed into his hand. “Everything looks great, Annie. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

  “Well, apparently, I’ve made too much,” she said, then turned and stormed into the kitchen.

  Ian cast an apologetic look to me. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him go after Annie, just passing Danny, who emerged with a handful of serving spoons. He took one look at me and said, “Ah, just ignore her. She’s set against liking anyone, after Gena.”

  “She really liked her, huh?” I asked, my throat sticking closed.

  “Nah.” Danny shook his head.

  Great.

  Bill came out and took the seat at the head of the table. He smiled at me and said, “I’m glad you could make it. Otherwise, we’d be eating these leftovers forever.”

  “I don’t think Penny is going to be able to take care of all of this herself.” Danny winked at me as he took a seat at the other end. He motioned to the two chairs on the side of the dining room with the window. “You and Uncle Ian can sit there.”

  I gave him a grateful look and sat. With every excruciating second, it became more and more clear what Annie and Ian were doing in the other room.

  Danny leaned over. “If there’s no shouting, that’s a good sign.”

  “
So, Penny. You work at a magazine?” Bill asked.

  “I do,” I said, eager to change the subject from Annie’s dislike of me. “It’s called Mode. It’s a fashion magazine.”

  “So, you’re interested in clothes, that kind of thing?”

  “Um…not really?” My sentence went up at the end, a question or an apology, I wasn’t sure. “I’m an assistant. It’s just kind of a job.”

  Something in the kitchen slammed.

  “Excuse me,” Bill said with forced cheerfulness as he stood and quickly exited.

  I looked at Danny, and he puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled.

  “So,” he began. “I know you’re not Catholic. Did you grow up in a church?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. I don’t have anything against your religion or Jesus or anything.”

  “I’m not here to judge you,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just asking because according to my uncle, you two are pretty serious.”

  “Oh. Um.” My face burned. Was I supposed to be talking about this with a priest?

  Danny rolled his eyes, reached into his shirt, and pulled out his collar, slapping it on the table. “Better?”

  I blinked at him.

  “Uncle Ian told me you’ve been talking about marriage and family. And I have to know… Did he ask you about the Church?”

  “Like…” I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Like convert?”

  “If that’s something you’d want, down the line. My main concern is that he’s honest with you about how your children are raised—”

  “Danny! Get away from my girlfriend!” Ian barked.

  Danny sat up and grabbed his collar, sliding it back in the neck of his shirt.

  Annie came back in and gave me a tight smile.

  Bill followed behind and pulled his chair out as Annie sat across the corner from him. “Danny, you wanna bless this?” he asked.

  “Sure, Dad.” Danny pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “In the name of the father, and the son, and the holy spirit—”

  I felt Annie’s eyes on me as they all crossed themselves and I sat there like an idiot, not knowing what to do. Danny said a prayer about how lucky we were to have things to be thankful for. Or something like that. I wasn’t listening so much as hoping there wouldn’t be some response required, a response I wouldn't be able to supply.

  “Thank you, Danny,” Ian said, after they’d all crossed themselves again. He shook out his linen napkin and laid it over his lap.

  “All right. Now that that’s out of the way,” Bill said, standing and lifting a battery-operated carving knife, “let’s eat.”

  While Bill grappled with the turkey, Ian, Annie, and Danny passed dishes in a complex and dangerous ballet. A hot bowl handed off on one side of me, while the plate of wobbly cranberry sauce went by on the other. The only reason any food made it onto my plate was because Ian asked, “Potatoes?” or “Bread?” as things came our way, and I scrambled to grab spoonfuls.

  Somehow, we all ended up with turkey and the trimmings, and wine in our glasses.

  “So, Penny,” Annie began, cutting into her turkey. “How long have you and Ian been together?”

  “Since the end of August,” I answered, counting backward in my mind. “So, three months, now?”

  “Three whole months.” Annie’s voice slid up at the end of her sentence, hinting at a sarcastic, “Isn’t that nice?” that didn’t follow. “My brother tells me the two of you are quite serious. Talking about marriage already.”

  I gave him a sideways smile. “Have we?”

  “Sure, earlier this week,” he said, with a wink that made Annie’s face turn stony.

  “Is it official, then? Have you set a date?” Danny asked from his end of the table. “You need six months for counseling, at the very least.”

  “She has to come over, first,” Bill said with a nod to his son.

  “Come over?” The walls of the conversation were closing in around me.

  “Convert,” Annie supplied. “But they can’t get married in the church, anyway, because of the divorce.”

  “No one is converting to anything,” Ian snapped. “Leave her alone, for Christ’s sake. That’s a long way off. Neither of us have asked, and nobody has said yes.”

  There was nothing untrue about that statement. He hadn’t proposed. I hadn’t, either. No real commitments had been made between us. It was all still painfully hypothetical.

  “Besides,” Ian went on, his anger subdued. “We wouldn’t even think about a wedding until I came back from Nassau.”

  Well. I guess that gave me the answer to question I hadn’t even realized I wanted to ask. It wasn’t that I expected Ian to set a date after three months, and dating for two years before getting married wasn’t unusual. It was just that Ian had talked about it as though he were eager to get the whole marriage-and-family thing kicked off as soon as possible. Was he just downplaying it for his sister?

  I valiantly made small talk for the rest of the meal. I learned that Bill had worked at a plant that made parts for cars and that Annie had been a homemaker, but now that Danny was grown, she worked part time at the church office. Danny had gone to Notre Dame on a scholarship and chose to pursue seminary after that.

  I also heard some fascinating Ian stories, like his infamous Flock of Seagulls haircut he’d sported in college and his childhood penchant for peeing out of windows. By the end of the dinner, some of my panic had eased, and that was due in large part to Ian himself, and how he behaved toward me. His eyes barely left me throughout the entire meal. He flushed bright red from some of the anecdotes his sister shared, and he hooked his ankle around mine under the table.

  Sure, I’d gotten emotional whiplash, but all of that aside, it seemed like it had been a pretty successful dinner.

  “Well, I’ll get to these dishes,” Bill said, pushing back from the table.

  “Nah, Dad, I’ve got them,” Danny volunteered.

  Bill waved a hand at him. “You don’t get many days off. Go take a nap while you can. I’ve got the whole weekend.”

  “I can help,” I offered, pushing my own chair back.

  “And Ian and I can take out the garbage,” Annie said. “Starting with that carcass.”

  The kitchen was a flurry of activity as Annie and Bill got out Tupperware, and Ian and I packaged up the leftovers. Plates were scraped and the “carcass” of the once movie-perfect turkey slid into its own bag. Bill ran water while Ian and Annie lugged the bags out the back door and down the steps.

  Bill showed me where the dishrags were, though he wasn’t happy about my participation in the chores. “You’re a guest. You shouldn’t have to do the washing up.”

  “The washing up,” I said with a giggle. “That’s so cute.”

  “You pick up those things from them,” he said with a grin. “You’ll see.”

  I smiled right back, but out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of white plastic. “They missed one.”

  “They’ll be in, soon,” Bill said placidly.

  “I’ll grab it.” I wasn’t trying to get out of doing dishes, but escaping the heat of the tiny kitchen for a second would be nice.

  “Don’t you need your coat?” Bill asked, but I was already headed to the door, trash bag in tow.

  “The cold will be good for me,” I said cheerfully. Then I backed out of the door into a cloud of what could only be cigarette smell.

  “Ian?” I frowned and waved at the blue curls wafting through the air from where he and his sister stood. “You smoke?”

  “No,” he said guiltily, hiding the cigarette behind his back.

  “Then is your coat on fire?” Was it weird to be mad at him over this? He was an adult, after all. But it seemed like it might have come up at one point or another, if he wasn’t actively hiding it.

  “He quit a long time ago.” Annie reached behind him and snagged the cigarette, and he cursed and brought his knuckles to his mouth. “I’m a bad influence on him.”

&n
bsp; “You burned my fucking hand, is what you did.” Ian pressed the backs of his fingers to the metal stair railing. “Sorry, Penny. I swear, this isn’t a regular occurrence.”

  “No, don’t worry. It’s, um.” I shook my head. “No, don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t tell on me, would you?” Annie asked, motioning to the house. “I think I do a good job of hiding it.”

  “It must run in the family.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m going to go back in.”

  “I’ll be along in a minute.” Ian scuffed the soles of his shoes on the pavement. “I’ll need ice for my hand.”

  I hoped he didn’t think I’d be getting that ice. He’d burned his hand being all deceptive and smoky. That was his injury to deal with. Then, I remembered, “Well, I have to put this trash away first, actually.”

  “No, let me,” he said, stepping up to take the handles of the bag from my hand. “Consider it my penance.”

  I went back inside and hoped Bill wouldn’t smell the smoke on me. “Okay, trash is taken care of.”

  “Ian and Annie out there having a cigarette?” Bill asked, wiping a glass dry.

  I froze. “You know about that?”

  “Oh, yeah. They think they’re real sneaky. Annie hides her smokes in the ceramic frog at the bottom of the steps.” He shrugged. “It gives them some private time.”

  “They seem really close,” I observed, slowly invading Bill’s personal space until he moved over and let me help by washing the dishes.

  “Well, after what happened— Ian did tell you what happened, didn’t he?” Bill asked.

  I lowered my voice. “With Robbie and Cathy? Yeah.”

  “All the kids were real close after that. Not so much now that they’re all split up all over the place. But get them together, and it’s like they see each other every day, you know?” Bill spoke of the family with such affection, it made me long to be a part of it. “But being the only two over here, Annie and Ian are kind of the only family they’ve got.”

  They definitely behaved the way I assumed siblings would.

  “Look,” Bill said suddenly. “This isn’t my place. But don’t let Annie scare you off. She’s just being protective, after the way things ended with Gena.”