Mars with Venus Rising

by Hope Toler Dougherty

  “Wait a minute, Penny.” Winnie sputtered and sought her sister’s eyes.

  Jancie shook her head. “Sorry, sweetie. The backseat is full of church materials. We don’t have room for you. John won’t mind bringing you back to the house, will you, John?”

  “Absolutely not. I expected to.” John arched a brow in her direction.

  “It’s just that...the motorcycle...”

  “You rode his motorcycle?” Both aunts dropped their jaws. “That’s tremendous. How’d you get her on it, John?” Winnie slapped him on his back. “Good for you.”

  “She wanted to. She loved it.” He winked at the aunts. “She can’t wait to hop on and hold me tight again.”

  Penn gasped and twisted her ring.

  The aunts hooted, sending her a hopeful glance.

  “Just like Aunt Cassie.”

  Penn rolled her eyes at the reference to her legendary great-great aunt. A sepia photograph of her leaning against an early motorcycle graced the mantel of their living room fireplace at the house.

  Family legend insisted she’d ridden the bike all the way to Kill Devil Hills on the Outer Banks, including a short stint on a ferry boat, to meet up with a co-ed she’d met at a fraternity party at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. No proof beyond the picture had ever surfaced, and the picture showed only her lounging against it, but the aunts proudly maintained the truth of the story.

  “Come on, sister. We need to make tracks. It’s been a long day.” Jancie covered a yawn with her palm. “It’ll take thirty minutes at least to get out of downtown, and we’ve still got to cross Roberto’s bridge.”

  “You’re right, but it’s a beautiful night to be in a beautiful city.” Winnie winked back at John. “I said, ‘it’s a beautiful night, John.’“ She cut her eyes toward Penn.

  Penn cringed, and John squeezed her shoulder. “You’re a good sport.” He whispered into her ear, raising goose bumps on her arm. He pivoted to the aunts. “A beautiful night indeed.”

  17

  John slowed the bike as he swerved on to Oakland Street.

  Penn’s chest ached at the inevitable end of the night. She snuggled against his back and breathed in more of his faint cologne. She tightened her arms around his waist. His abs stiffened against her wrists.

  Earlier today, she’d clung to him for fear of her life. She’d focused on every car that passed them, every bump in the Pittsburgh streets, every time he’d added gas to bring the bike to the speed limit.

  Tonight—blame it on the sun that baked her brain out there behind home plate, or the exhilaration of the win, or the knowledge that she’d ridden on the back of a motorcycle all the way to Pittsburgh, or blame it on whatever—but tonight was different. On the ride back, she ignored everything except him.

  His black hair curled out from under his helmet and rippled with the breeze. His cologne smelled woodsy, calming her like time spent with Peri.

  Riding on the back of his bike won her over to new experiences. She’d ride with him to the moon and back. At least to Pittsburgh if he asked her.

  John signaled a left and coasted to a stop in her driveway.

  The house waited, dark and silent.

  He pushed the kickstand down and caught her eyes in the mirror, peeking over his shoulder. He smiled, unclicking his helmet strap. Dismounting, he reached under her chin. “Home safe and sound. What’d I tell you?”

  Home, yes. Safe and sound? Her thump thump thumping heart didn’t think so. She removed the helmet, handed it to him, and raked her hand through her curls.

  He offered his hand to help her off the bike and rested against it, half sitting, half standing. He shook his head. “Ferris wheels and roller coasters. Now riding motorcycles. What’s next? Bungee jumping?”

  “Ab-so-lute-ly not!” Penn shivered at the thought. Or maybe it was because he still held her hand.

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “You are a daredevil.”

  “Nope. Just enjoy having fun.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Like Scrabble, Monopoly, Pictionary...”

  “I had fun today. Those aunts of yours are a trip.” His thumb, arcing over the back of her hand, distracted her, robbing her of a proper comeback. “Speaking of your aunts, what was that exchange today about living at home? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

  She steeled herself against the prickles zinging up her arm from. What was the answer to his question? “Oh, they don’t want me to move out. They love reminding me that Neil Walker, Major League Baseball Star, lived at home until not too long ago.”

  “You want to move out?” His warm gaze, trained only on her, wreaked almost as much havoc on her insides as his touch did.

  She blinked and peered over his shoulder to break eye contact. “It’s not that I hate living here. I don’t. If I can pass the CPA exam and get a job in Pittsburgh, they can move back to North Carolina. They’ve sacrificed for me enough.”

  “But do they want to move back?” He cocked his head, searching her face.

  “Most people their age think moving South is the Holy Grail. They have a hometown and old friends down there.”

  His voice was warm and without accusation, he persisted. “Have they told you they want to move?”

  “No, but—”

  “Uh huh. Why can’t you work in Pittsburgh now?”

  “You need to be a CPA to work in the big firms downtown.”

  “You teach now, right?” He shrugged. “So transfer to one of the city schools.”

  “Yes, but...” She grimaced. “I couldn’t do that. I love my students at Mars High. I couldn’t jump ship to teach at another school.” She pinched her lips together.

  “But you could take a job in another field.”

  Why couldn’t he understand? “Yes, because I wouldn’t be choosing other students over them. I’d be choosing the job my degree is in.” She tried to free her hand from his grip, but he held on. Captured her other one, too.

  “Hey. I’m just asking questions, not judging you.” He drew her toward him. “Don’t be upset with me, OK?” He jiggled her fingers. “I’m a writer. I ask questions.”

  She stared at his hands surrounding hers, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  He released a hand, nudged her chin up. “Penn. Look at me.”

  She raised her eyes and swayed toward the intensity in his.

  “Penn, I...”

  He brushed her lips, a brief, tentative contact that surprised and thrilled and disappointed her all at the same time. She didn’t want a quick, apology kiss. She wanted a real one. Clinging to him, she waited, reluctant to move and ruin this fairytale scene.

  His eyes swept over her face and settled on her mouth.

  An emotion she couldn’t discern flitted across his features, and he bent toward her again. He tipped her head, threading his fingers through her curls, cupping the nape of her neck. This time his lips were sure and strong.

  Against her better judgment, she’d dreamed of this moment, had played and replayed a simulated version between the pages of her accounting books, on rides with Peri. She sighed against him and let herself sink into his embrace, answered the questions his lips asked of hers.

  She forgot promising herself not to fall for him, forgot everything but how strong his arms felt around her, how fast his heart thumped underneath her palm. She trailed her fingertips up to his cheek, his day’s growth of stubble scruffy under her fingertips.

  His arms circled around her, but he broke the kiss, dragging his mouth over to another tender place. “Yeah. I think you might be a little daredevil.” Husky and fervent in her ear, his whispered words revved her pulse another notch.

  What had she done? She’d let him kiss her, kissed him back. Liked it. And wanted him to do it again. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “As much as I’d like to stay and test the daredevil theory, I know when to call it a night.” He slid his hands to her shoulder
s, shuffling her backwards but holding her near. “Plus, I need to get ready for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” What day would that be? Hot and cold flashes dashed through her limbs stealing any cohesive thoughts. Sunday maybe?

  “I have to fly out tomorrow afternoon.”

  Penn froze. The hot and cold flashes pinged to a halt as if she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water. Right. Flying. Planes. A pilot. The reason she’d planned to protect her heart. Think of something to say. “A long trip?”

  “Supposed to be back Thursday.” His thumb caressed her shoulder blade. “What if I call you then?”

  He wants to call. A good thing right? She plucked at the scooped neck of her shirt.

  But Thursday. Almost a whole week. A weight settled in her chest. “OK.”

  He laughed. “Don’t sound so thrilled.” He secured her helmet on the back of the bike.

  She swallowed to dislodge the lump in her throat and pressed her ring into her palm.

  “I’ll call you when I get back.” He swung his leg over the bike and kicked the starter lever. The engine obeyed the command and purred.

  “Fine.” Her manners resurfaced. “Thank you again. For the tickets. And the game.”

  “My pleasure.” His dimple flickered with his grin. “You’re welcome for the ride, too.”

  ~*~

  John rolled the bike down the driveway to the street. He chanced one more glance her way and waved.

  Still twisting her ring. But...during that kiss, she’d let go of it long enough to hold onto him, to touch his face. Responding to him as if she enjoyed it. Nice. His cheek still tingled. So did his lips.

  He twisted the handle grip, and the biked surged forward. His waist felt empty without her arms around him. On the way down to Pittsburgh, her fists had clenched against him the entire thirty-minute ride. On the way home, however, she’d twined her fingers and hugged his midsection, her sweet fragrance wafting around him.

  During the initial ride, her rigid body perched on the seat, straight as the brace he’d worn on his leg as a child. After the game, she’d snuggled right up to him so fast and so close, he’d almost asked her name.

  But he didn’t want to spoil the moment by teasing her, a surefire way to get her rubbing that ring again, so he’d simply enjoyed the feel of her body up next to his.

  He understood her hesitation. Motorcycles exuded a dangerous reputation for a lot of people. His mother tried all of his teenage years to talk him out of buying one, but he’d changed her mind with a few rides and a few more daisy bouquets.

  John rounded the corner to Clay Avenue, he powered down as he approached his house.

  He’d won over his mother. He wanted to win over, Penn, too.

  Unlocking his back door, he entered and flipped on the light switch. As much as he wanted to let his thoughts center on Penn, work called. Throwing his keys onto the counter, he flopped in front of his laptop to check the weather and write his flight plan.

  Thoughts of Penn, as sweet as they were, would have to wait.

  ~*~

  Penn reclined in her bed with the ceiling fan stirring the warm air of her room. She listened to the aunts bustling around the kitchen and smelled the coffee waiting for her in the glass carafe.

  She rolled to her stomach and let her thoughts run toward John. Again. She’d managed to study through the week, but today was Thursday. He said he’d call on Thursday.

  Her heart raced at the thought. She stuffed her pillow under her chest, rested on her elbows and let her mind wander to last Saturday night in her driveway. When he’d kissed her. And cupped her cheek. And kissed her. And hugged her to him. And kissed her.

  The aunts had played their hand very well. They’d suspected something but hadn’t pushed the conversation that night or at breakfast Sunday morning. She waited for a question all afternoon, but none came until she stepped on the first stair on her way to bed Sunday night.

  Jancie called from her floral wingback chair in the den. “Penny, you never told us. Is John a good kisser or what?”

  Lucky for Penn, her hand gripping the railing steadied her when she tripped on the second step. “What?”

  Winnie abandoned her book. “You heard her. I know you did. You almost fell up the stairs, girl. Come in here and tell us all about it.”

  Stalling for time, she wracked her brain for a way to avoid what she knew was coming. “All about what?”

  A coy smile danced around Jancie’s mouth. “About his kiss. That’s what.”

  Penn hesitated at the threshold. “Are you two out of your minds? What makes you think—”

  “Give it up, girl. We know he kissed you.” Jancie laid Jane Eyre under the reading lamp.

  “I was going to say, ‘what makes you think I’d let him kiss me?’“

  “Well, if he tried and you wouldn’t, you’re goofier than you look when you wake up in the mornings.” Winnie slid a bookmark between the pages of Pride and Prejudice and clasped her hands on top of the cover.

  “Thanks very much.” Penn huffed at the indignity of that statement. How to move the conversation to a safer subject?

  Jancie waved her to join them. “Come sit down. You know it’s true, and we’re one-hundred-percent sure he kissed you. We’ve waited all day, and you’ve been stubborn.”

  Expecting to rue the conversation, she entered the den and parked on the navy couch.

  “Spill, Penn.” Jancie crossed her ankles on top of the ottoman in front of her chair. “Tell us how it felt to be in his arms.”

  “Aunt Jancie, stop.” She couldn’t face her aunts. She snatched up a magazine on the coffee table, hiding behind it.

  “She’s blushing, Winnie.”

  Winnie reached toward her and held her hand. “Penny, dear. Don’t be embarrassed. John’s a wonderful boy. He’s the real deal.”

  Penn licked her lips. “Um.” How to proceed? She smoothed curls around both ears, fluffed them, and smoothed them again.

  “So he kissed you?” Jancie persevered like one determined to discover the secret ingredient of a coveted recipe.

  Honesty. Maybe honesty would end this nightmare interrogation. “Yes, he kissed me good night when he dropped me off.”

  Jancie slapped the arm of the chair. “I knew it!”

  “A grand slam and a kiss all in one day!” Winnie hugged her book to her chest.

  “And a motorcycle ride.” Jancie wiggled her index finger at her sister. “Don’t forget that.”

  “Exciting, dear.” Winnie slumped into her chair. “Thank you for sharing with your old aunts. Now get along to bed before it gets too late.”

  “That’s it? I thought you wanted details.” Penn’s mouth gaped at the jackknife in their interest.

  Winnie giggled. “Sweetie, we were just teasing you. That’s your private business. We don’t want to pry.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, Jancie stopped mid-reach for Jane Eyre. “Unless, of course, you want to share more.”

  And the interrogation ended as quickly as it had begun.

  Penn flipped over and scooted against the head board. It was too early in the game to talk about John and how she felt about him. She wanted to hoard the feelings to herself and ponder them in secret. Like now. She hugged a dotted-swiss pillow sham, remembered his cologne, and tingled all over again.

  ~*~

  Penn grinned her way downstairs and into the kitchen to greet her aunts. The small TV on the counter played in the background delivering the morning news. She poured a glass of orange juice and reached for a mug of coffee. “What smells so divine?”

  Winnie closed the oven door and set a baking stone on a trivet. “We made cheese scrolls out of crescent dough.” She offered one to Penn. “Try it. See if they’re any good. We’re taking a batch over to the ladies’ group this morning. What do you think?”

  Penn bit into one and moaned. The pinwheel stuffed with cheddar cheese and Italian herbs melted in her mouth and tingled awake all of her taste buds. “These are
fantastic. Why haven’t you ever made them before?”

  Jancie lifted one from the stone. “We just found the recipe in one of those cookbooks we bought from the used book booth. Good, huh?”

  Winnie fanned her hand, shushing them. “Let’s hear the weather for today.”

  Conversation stopped just as during their childhood when their father, a farmer, listened to the forecast.

  Jancie swallowed the last bite. “Ooh, looks like we’re in for storms today.”

  Penn’s heart seized at the mention of storms. “Storms? When?” She crouched at the TV, inches away from the small screen.

  “Not till this afternoon it looks like. We’ll be fine this morning, sister.”

  “Penny, what is it? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Jancie rubbed the top of her shoulder.

  Winnie patted her hand. “You’re fingers are cold as ice. What’s wrong? You’re not afraid of storms. You always loved a good thunder boomer.”

  Penn chewed on her lip. Her lapis ring rested on her dresser top. “John’s supposed to fly home today.”

  The sisters exchanged glances.

  Winnie squeezed Penn’s hand. “What do weather people know? It probably won’t rain a drop. John’s a careful pilot. He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

  Penn slammed her hand onto the table. “Don’t say that. You don’t know what’ll happen.” She dipped her chin. Yelling at her aunts? Excellent way to behave.

  Jancie didn’t flinch. “You’re right. We don’t, but we do know the One who can take care of us. Let’s pray for peace and comfort for us and safety for John as he travels. We can trust in God, the Creator of this world and airplanes, too.”

  Penn closed her eyes to keep from rolling them. Who took care of her parents twenty years ago?

  “Don’t you go down that negative path, Miss Penny.” Jancie called Penn by the name she used when she meant business. “I can tell by the smirk on your face where your mind is going.” She moved beside Penn and brushed curls away from her face. “We can’t read God’s mind. We don’t know why our tragedy happened, but I do know how grateful I am that He allowed me to be a part of your life. So we’re not thinking negative things right now. We’re going to pray.”