Having no plans for today beyond showing Penn he wanted to be with her, he surveyed the debris in the yard. “I’m here for as long as you need me.” He’d prove to her he wouldn’t jeopardize their relationship or friendship in any way.
Penn climbed the steps onto the porch with her mouth set in a straight line.
He had his work cut out for him. The backyard cleanup would be a breeze compared with warming the frigid expression on Penn’s face.
No problem. He’d had to work hard all his life.
He could handle the challenge.
~*~
Penn slid the last salad into the refrigerator. Somehow, she’d made it through the morning without much interaction with John.
He’d claimed the chain saw from George Blanton, so the seventy-year-old supervised the guys in loading his trailer.
She and the girls, with the aunts, cleared the branches and large twigs, piling all of it by the street for the garbage collectors who’d come by on Tuesday.
With Mr. Blanton’s extra rakes, everyone helped rake the yard.
Winnie and Penn took over kitchen detail. By 11:30, the yard was groomed again, and lunch beckoned with chicken salad, pasta salad, potato salad, spinach salad, a fruit salad, and an assortment of deli sandwiches.
As they’d laid out the serving utensils, Penn chided her aunt. “I told you yesterday when you were making all these salads that we weren’t serving the whole youth group, just a handful of teenagers.”
Winnie harrumphed. “Good thing we made all we did. George and John have worked like mad all morning. They’ll be starving, but we’ll have plenty.” She bit a rolled turkey slice.
They did have plenty despite Jack and his friend piling two sandwiches on their plates before they ate one bite. Everyone scarfed down the food if it were the first meal after a long fast.
Jancie and Winnie glowed as the teenagers shoveled in the food.
Now the teens waited for Andy to collect them for one more afternoon clean up job. The boys lounged on the couch complaining of stomachaches while the girls flitted about the family room examining knick-knacks.
Screams pierced the kitchen.
Penn dropped the plastic wrap into the rack on the back of the cabinet door and called to the girls from the kitchen. “What is it?”
Trudy pointed to the mantle. “Look at this old picture. It’s a woman on a motorcycle—in a dress!”
“They found Aunt Cassie on the motorcycle.” Winnie pushed a chair under the table and followed Penn and Jancie to the girls in front of the fire place.
Penn fingered the frame. “She’s my great-great Aunt Cassie.”
“It must run in the family.” John entered the family room, his eyes on the picture.
Penn startled at his voice and forced her gaze back to the photograph. How did he move from the yard to inside so quickly? Last time she checked, and she was checking on Mr. Blanton, not on John, he stood by the trailer, securing the chains.
Winnie lowered the silver frame from the mantle and dusted the glass with the corner of her apron. “This is one of my favorite pictures. She was a pistol, or so I’m told. She rode that contraption all the way from Oxford, North Carolina, to Kill Devil Hills to see a beau. In 1929, if you can believe that. A few months before the Depression started.”
Grace craned toward the picture. “Wow. She was pretty, too.”
“That runs in the family, too.”
Penn snapped her gaze to John, but he oozed charm all over Jancie who giggled like she was Grace’s age.
Jancie swatted his forearm. “John, I do like you coming around here.”
A honk sounded out front.
Jack wobbled off the couch. “Hey, you guys. Andy’s here. We need to roll.”
“Wait, wait.” Jancie sprinted to the kitchen and returned with four baggies of celebration cookies for the teenagers. “Thanks again for all your help.”
The teens closed the front door, and Mr. Blanton cracked the back one. “Just wanted to say, ‘I’m gone.’“
This time Winnie dashed to the refrigerator. She retrieved a plastic container. “Here. Take some of the chicken salad. Don’t worry about returning the tub.”
A smile lit the wrinkles in Mr. Blanton’s face. “When I said it rivaled my late wife’s salad, I wasn’t fishing for—”
Winnie fiddled with the collar of her chartreuse blouse. “I never thought such a thing. Please take it and enjoy. Thank you so much for your help today.”
“You’re very welcome, Winnie. I was glad to.” He adjusted his cap. “I suppose I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”
Winnie smoothed back her hair and waved to Mr. Blanton. “I’ll be there.”
Penn didn’t have time to contemplate the sparks flying around the back door. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
John approached her from behind.
Jancie, halfway up the stairs, called to Winnie to come look at something in her room.
Penn closed her eyes. She wasn’t ready to face John alone.
20
John rolled his neck and waited for Penn to face him. Would he have to talk to her back?
Her back straight, she pivoted, her arms folded in front of her. “Thank you for your help today.”
“You’re welcome.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.
“We appreciate it so much.” She stepped toward the front door.
He shuffled backwards to let her pass. “Glad to help.”
“We could never have cleaned the whole yard by ourselves.” She closed her hand around the glass door latch.
John tilted his head toward her. “Looks like you’re ready for me to go.”
She snatched her hand from the latch and stuffed it into her pocket. “Oh, no. It’s just—”
“Let’s sit on the swing a little while, OK?” He advanced toward the door.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Well...”
“Just for a bit. We didn’t get to talk today.”
She slumped her shoulders. “OK.”
Not an encouraging sign.
Penn led the way to the swing, crushed herself against the wooden arm.
Giving her plenty of room, John nixed the idea of swinging. He fingered a scratch near his watch where a thorn had left its mark earlier in the morning. He blew out a long stream of air. I need some wisdom here, Lord.
“Penn, we can take this slow and talk about Trudy and Grace, talk about the fantastic lunch, or whatever. Or we can get right to it and talk about what’s wrong today—I mean besides losing trees in the storm.” He rubbed his chin. “What’d you think? Which way do we go?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong’?”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to talk about, too.” He stretched his legs in front of him and brushed off a wet maple leaf sticking to the laces on his work boots. He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. “What’s up, Penn?” He kept his voice light. “When I left last Saturday night, I thought things were great. We had fun at the game, right?”
She nodded.
“Yeah. A lot of fun.” Go slow. Don’t be aggressive. “And...after the game...” He held his breath.
She shifted her body to face the front yard.
Retreat. He’d pushed a little too hard.
No problem. He’d leave the kiss alone.
For now.
“When your phone went directly to voicemail and no one answered at the house either, I had some questions because I told you I’d call you when I got back. Then I got here this morning and...” He shrugged. “Let’s just say, not exactly a welcoming greeting.”
She dipped her chin and worked on the cuticle of one nail.
He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He simply wanted answers. Humor. That’s the ticket. “Except for Winnie. Now she knows how to make a guy feel welcome.” He chuckled. “I wonder if that’s how she’ll greet Mr. Blanton at church tomorrow?”
Her mouth twitched. “You noticed that exc
hange, huh?” She picked at the hem of her faded blue shorts.
“Yeah. I notice a lot of things, Penn. Like how you seemed upset all morning, going out of your way to avoid me.” He furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong? Did I do something or say something to hurt you?”
She wiped her hands along her thighs.
“You’re hands are shaking.” He clasped hers. As much as he wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, he didn’t want to risk her bolting for the front door if he did. He inched his leg closer to her. “Penn, let me help you.”
“You didn’t hurt me, but...”
“But what?”
“John, when that storm came up Thursday afternoon, I knew you were up there. Flying your plane.” She covered her face. “It was awful.”
“Winnie said the storm was bad here, but you guys prayed and—”
“Yes, that’s true. They prayed, and they were calm. I was physically ill. I threw up, John.”
“I’ve told you I’m careful. I don’t—”
“You don’t what? You don’t think my dad was careful?”
“Of course not. I wasn’t going to say that.” He flexed his fingers, an image of David’s punching bag hanging in his basement floated before him. John counted to ten. Her words were unfair, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. He could feel the fear emanating from her even now. He tempered his voice. “I don’t take foolish chances, Penn, not with flying. I’m careful, cautious. I follow every rule.”
“I know. You’ve told me. You were careful with me on the bike ride. But, John, my dad wasn’t reckless either. And look what happened...I lost my mom, my dad, and my...” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth.
“Penn, I’m sorry. I can’t imagine that loss. Don’t want to, but—”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to relive it. Again and again.” She raised glassy eyes to his. “That’s what I did, John, all afternoon Thursday and into the night. I was in therapy for years to get a handle on this tragedy, and one afternoon brought everything back. The one saving grace was that the news didn’t carry a plane crash, but I didn’t know where you were. Maybe you’d crashed at the front end of your trip.”
“But I didn’t, Penn.” He spoke quietly and carefully, determined to convince her. “We were flying when this rogue storm blew up. We landed at an airport near Charleston well south of here and waited it out. I would’ve called—”
“That’s the point. I didn’t know you were safe. I couldn’t stop the images...” She covered her eyes.
“That’s where faith comes in, doesn’t it? Faith that God will take care of you, take care of me. Faith that I’ll use the intelligence God gave me and heed the weather. That I’ll be careful.”
“It’s so easy for you to sit here and talk to me about faith when you still have both your parents. When you haven’t been through what I’ve been through.”
He flinched at the pain shrouding her words. “You’re right, Penn. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I do know that God is faithful. From my own experience.”
John raked his hands through his hair. “Listen. This is an easy fix. I’ll call before I leave, and when I land. You’ll know what’s happening with me so you won’t worry.”
“Don’t you understand?” Her dark eyes pleaded with him. “There isn’t a fix. Easy, quick, or otherwise.” Penn flattened her lips. “I can’t do this. I knew it from the time I found out you fly.”
She was scared. She had a right to be, but how could he convince her to take a chance on what he felt between them?
“Penn, let’s figure this out. We enjoy being together.” He brushed her wrist with his fingertips. “Let’s at least try—”
She leapt from the swing, clanking the chains. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry...”
John reached for her, but she shrugged away from him.
He rammed his hands in his pockets.
“So...what do we do about us?”
“John.” Her plaintive whisper cut at his heart. “I’m sorry. Please understand me. I wish I could push those pictures out of my mind, but I can’t. And I don’t want—can’t—have another night like I had Thursday.” She squeezed her arms across her chest.
If only she’d let him comfort her. His arms ached to hold her. Maybe holding her would assuage the tight feeling in his chest, too.
“I get that.” He stared at the ceiling fan over the entryway, circulating the humid air. He wiped his hand across his mouth. “Does this mean you’ll avoid me from now on, ignore me if we see each other some place?”
“No. Of course not.” Her eyebrows bunched together under her curls. “We’re still working on the Apple committee together.”
“Right.” Lots of awkward fun times ahead.
“And don’t forget church.”
“We can’t forget church.” Why did he feel like she was breaking up with him? They hadn’t even gotten started. She hadn’t let them.
“I wish you’d—”
“I can’t, John.” She jutted her chin forward.
He’d see that look before.
“Right. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I better get moving then. It’s been a...it’s been a day.” He gripped the handrail and glanced back at her.
She hadn’t moved, still hugging her arms around her waist. “Thank you again for your help.”
“No problem.” He descended the steps. “Glad to do it.” I wish you’d let me do more.
~*~
Penn plodded to the door. Her feet dragged, as heavy as her heart. She entered the foyer and caught the aunts halfway to the kitchen. The creaking of the door alerted them to her, guilt flushing their cheeks.
“I guess you heard everything, so I’m going upstairs.” She stepped toward the stairs.
“Oh, no. We couldn’t hear everything.”
Jancie swatted at her sister. “Hush, Winnie. Penn, honey, we didn’t mean to eavesdrop. We saw the last bag of cookies and didn’t want him to forget them. We were bringing them out when we realized...we realized...”
“You were having a serious talk.” Winnie clutched the plastic bag of cookies to her waist.
Fatigue pressed against Penn’s shoulders. “Serious, yes.” The physical labor this morning had worn her but not as much as the emotional toll of being near John and not allowing herself to enjoy his presence. The final conversation had zapped any last thread of energy. “I’m wiped out.”
Winnie gestured toward the kitchen. “How about a cup of tea, dear?”
Penn clutched. “I’m not hungry.”
“You don’t need to be hungry to have a cup of tea.”
The back of her throat burned with tears demanding release. Her nose stung, signaling that the release was near. She needed to escape to her room. Quickly.
“Aunt Jancie, I—” Too late. Her stoic countenance collapsed.
“Come here, sweetie.” Jancie swept her into her arms, and Winnie stroked her back. She breathed in the faint scent of moth balls and perfume, a constant with both aunts. She burrowed her head and succumbed to the tears.
The aunts murmured and fretted, caressed and patted, but the comfort she found in their arms was a poor substitute to the arms she longed to feel around her.
~*~
A knock on his front door roused John from the golf game blinking on his flat screen TV. When David left to buy some groceries, he hadn’t mentioned expecting anyone. He snagged a t-shirt from the back of the couch and tugged it over his head.
Winnie and Jancie, sheepish smiles plastered across their faces, waited on his stoop holding a bag of cookies.
“Hello, dear. You forgot these yesterday, and we missed you at church this morning, so we thought we’d bring them by.” Winnie wiggled the bag in front of him.
Jancie lowered her chin. “We don’t have your number or we’d have called first.”
“No problem. Thank you.” He accepted the bag and chose a cookie. “I didn’t hang around after church.” He peered over their gr
ay heads but saw only their empty sedan parked in front of his house.
Jancie entered the foyer. “She’s not out there.”
“She’s riding Peri.” Winnie brushed his arm as she passed by.
The lie that he wasn’t looking for Penn died on his lips. “Right. Come on in, ladies.” He stuffed the whole cookie in his mouth.
Winnie surveyed the seating options. “We’ll come in just for a minute. We wanted to say ‘hello’ and thank you for yesterday and bring you the cookies.”
Jancie placed her hand on her hips. “We wanted to see how you’re doing.”
He smiled at her. “No beating around the bush for you, huh, Jancie? I like that.” He slid several sections of the Sunday paper off the couch and corner chair, stacking them on the coffee table. “Have a seat, ladies.”
They perched on the edge of the couch. “So. How are you doing?”
John chose the Amish twig rocking chair David had bought last week. He shrugged. “I’m fine. Disappointed.” He leaned his forearms against his thighs, clasped his hands. “How’s Penn?”
“Miserable.”
“Winnie.” Jancie laid a hand on her sister’s knee. “I’d say ‘subdued’.”
“She’s also miserable, if you ask me.” Winnie patted her hand and pushed it away.
He grimaced. “Sorry to hear that.” He stared down at his hands.
What had these two women cooked up? “I suppose you know about our conversation yesterday?”
“Yes, we heard it.”
Jancie elbowed Winnie. Jancie elbowed her back. “We were bringing the cookies to you when we accidentally heard you two on the porch. We didn’t mean to listen.”
“Of course not.” John rubbed his upper lip to prevent a grin. “I guess it wasn’t really confidential. No harm done.”
Jancie shifted on the couch. “That’s where we think you’re wrong. Sorry, dear. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Penn is...” Jancie glanced at her sister. “She’s been through a lot. We’ve told you about her history, but she’s got a lot on her mind this summer with the accounting exam she’s studying for and the Apple festival.”
Mars with Venus Rising Page 17
