“I’m nose to nose with a hog,” she said.
“What?”
“A big white hog with a black stripe around its neck. Ring any bells? It’s in my yard. And I think it wants to come in the house.”
* * *
“SHOO.” Penelope closed her cell phone and slid it into her pocket. “Shoo.” She waved a stick at the hog, which didn’t seem disconcerted in the least by it.
The hog advanced a step or two, and Penelope retreated. Was there such a thing as stampeding swine? No point in taking chances. She eased up her back steps.
Leave it to Brandon to tell her to keep an eye on the thing. He had no compunction whatsoever about expecting her to tackle jobs she had no clue how to do.
Like pig-sit.
“Don’t even think about it,” she told the hog as it nosed toward her. “Brandon said he was coming. Any minute now, he’ll pull up and you’ll be heading back to your pen.”
Her cell phone buzzed, which seemed to interest the hog, and it closed the gap between them by one more delicate step. Penelope was running out of porch steps, and fast.
“Brandon?” she said into the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID. “You’d better come get this hog, and I mean now.”
“Hog? My sister is tending swine? Talk about the prodigal son—uh, daughter.”
“Trent.” A heaviness that had nothing to do with her present predicament settled over her. Other people had normal relationships with their brothers, but she had never escaped the weight of comparison her parents dumped on her. Maybe if she’d once come up on the winning side of that competition her parents forced her into with her older brother.
“So you’re really keeping pigs company down there in Alabama?”
“Georgia. It’s Georgia.”
“I knew that. Listen, I have news.”
“Uh-huh?” She kept a vigilant eye on the hog as it snuffled in her petunias. Well, that was five bucks wasted, she thought, as the pig nibbled at the purple blossoms.
“I’m getting married.”
“What?”
“Yep. Jill and I are tying the knot.”
Jill: tall, willowy, very blond. Come to think of it, a carbon copy of all the women Trent dated.
“Well, congrats, Trent! I wish you much happiness. When’s the big day?”
“That’s the thing. See, they’re having this big real estate conference in Maui next month, so we figured let’s get married before then and go there for the honeymoon.”
The hog munched on a few more petunia blossoms. Where on earth was Brandon? “You’re going on a real estate conference for your honeymoon?”
“It was Jill’s idea.”
Oh, yeah. Jill was in real estate, too. Penelope had forgotten. Was the whole world in real estate?
“Then it sounds perfect,” she said. She glared at the hog, who met her eyes with a look of unconcern.
“But Mom wants the wedding, you know?”
Penelope stifled a groan. She knew where this was heading, and it was the last place she wanted to go. “The wedding?”
“Yeah, nothing big, a couple of bridesmaids, a maid of honor, a flower girl. Maybe a couple hundred people.”
“Uh-huh.” If she didn’t bite, would he go trolling for some other hapless bridezilla victim?
“So, uh, she wants to know, you know, your measurements.”
“My what?”
“For your bridesmaid’s dress. We’ve got to get a move on if we’re going to make that Maui conference.”
“Oh, no, no. Listen, you guys go ahead.”
“Mom wants it. She insists.”
“She can un-insist. I don’t even know Jill. I’m really happy for you, don’t get me wrong. But I have zero desire, zilch, to be a bridesmaid. No offense.”
“None taken. But...”
Behind her, Penelope heard Theo’s plaintive yowl. He’d obviously spotted her out the window, which meant he was on the verboten kitchen counter, and he was jealous of her conversation with the hog.
“But what, Trent? Tell her thanks, but no thanks.”
“Mo-om! She said no!”
“Oh, good grief, is she listening?”
But Penelope’s question was answered by her mother herself. “Penelope! I can’t believe you value your brother so little that you refuse to participate.”
“Mom, listen. I’m kind of busy right now.” The hog nosed ever closer to Penelope, and she backed up to the top step.
“What on earth is that sound?”
“It’s a hog. Snuffling.”
“A hog?”
“I did say I was busy.”
“Oh, Penelope. Why must you be so dramatic?”
A vehicle rattled up the driveway and Penelope could’ve collapsed with relief. Brandon!
But it wasn’t. It was Brandon’s uncle, his truck outfitted with a strange set of fence pieces along the back. Hopefully to keep the pig in?
“Hey, there,” he greeted her. “Geraldine, what on earth are you doin’ eatin’ those petunias? You know they give you heartburn.”
“...expect you to be here,” her mother was saying in an imperious tone. “And if you don’t have a date, I’ll need to know that, too, because all the ushers they’ve chosen are married. I’ll find someone suitable.”
Weddings and hogs. What a combination. Somehow Penelope could stomach the hog more easily than the idea of swathing herself in whatever hideous bridesmaid color was this season’s hot pick. “Mom. I gotta go. The man’s here to pick up his pig.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“AW, HONEY, now you know better than this. You know you’re not supposed to be off loafin’.” Brandon’s uncle reached down and rubbed Geraldine behind the ear.
Penelope did a double take as the hog leaned into the scratch. Jake Wilkes grinned.
“Pigs make great pets. They’re right smart critters.”
“Uh-huh, Mr. Wilkes.” She couldn’t quite mask her disbelief.
“Oh, don’t bother being so formal. Everybody just calls me Uncle Jake. I sure am sorry about your petunias. I’ll see about getting you some more. Geraldine just loves ’em better ’n candy.”
“I never knew pigs ate...” She trailed off.
“Anything but slop? I know. Lots of people don’t know that. I wouldn’t mind her eatin’ flowers, but it does give her heartburn, and then she just sorrows around all day. I think it’s ’cause she pigs out on ’em, no pun intended.”
“Well, thank you for getting her,” Penelope said. “I was working out in the barn, and I looked up and saw her.”
“Yep. The others got out, and Miss Geraldine was lonesome. I’m worn out from herding them back up and in the pen. I can’t think how Miss Geraldine got way over here, what with that fence between us. Now, I know, I know—” he held up his hand “—you’re gonna say that hogs go through fences like a rat goes through cheese, but Miss Geraldine’s usual limit is one fence a day.”
Penelope hadn’t planned on saying anything as colorful as that.
Uncle Jake hooked his fingers into the overall straps. “They are a lot of trouble, though, gotta admit that. Always getting out and getting into somebody’s something or ’nother. Brandon keeps telling me I should get rid of ’em...but it’d be like, well... I’m down to just my favorites. Don’t really take any to market anymore. And what would I do to keep busy, you know? Since my heart started giving me trouble, Brandon don’t like me doing a lot of plowing and such. That boy is a professional worrier, you ask me.”
Penelope gave into the temptation to hear more about Brandon. “I guess it’s the law enforcement part of him.”
Uncle Jake chuckled. “No, ma’am, that’s the farmer in him. I did a bad thing, letting him ride a tractor
that first time. Boy took to it like Geraldine took to those petunias of yours. I tell him he oughta loosen up, and lately it does seem as if he’s taking my advice. Or maybe you’re prettier to hang around than me.”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter. “Thank you for the compliment, but Brandon’s not been hanging around here. That field has been taking up all his time.”
“So you’re a sculptor, huh?” Uncle Jake asked after an awkward silence. He propped one elbow on the porch railing, his frail chambray shirtsleeve protesting at the strain. Geraldine ambled over toward a clump of dandelions.
Mindful of all the questions about her art she’d fielded in the past by well-meaning but clueless people, Penelope answered with a cautious, “I try to be.”
“No, now, don’t sell yourself short. An artist’s either an artist or he’s not. Have I maybe seen pictures of your work?”
She shook her head. “Probably not. I’ve done some small-scale pieces for a few businesses and individuals, and my work has been in some galleries in L.A. and New York, but this project I was working on was my first big break. I really thought...” She clamped her mouth shut.
“You and Brandon, y’all are quite the pair.” Jake took his cap off and wiped his forehead.
“What do you mean?”
“You got that same look in your eye. It’s like y’all think it’s your job to take over the world or somethin’. Like y’all believe it’s up to you to take life and squeeze it into the shape of whatever dreams have caught your fancy. Ambitious, both of you.”
Penelope hated to admit sharing a character trait with Brandon, least of all ambition. He was someone who let his ambitions for revenge blind him.
Jake shifted his weight from one worn leather brogan to the other. “Mind if I take a gander at this thing you’re working on?”
“Uh...” Penelope sat on the step and stared at the man leaning on her porch. His question surprised her. Ordinarily she didn’t like strangers staring over her shoulder as she worked. It woke her inner critic.
“Just curious, is all. Brandon doesn’t say much about it.”
“That’s probably because I haven’t got much done on it. I’ve only really just started.”
“So are you, what, postmodern, then, I guess? I’m a modern guy myself. I was always kind of partial to Henry Moore’s stuff.”
Penelope did a double take. “You know Henry Moore’s work?”
Uncle Jake took out a pocketknife. Apparently absorbed in the task of trimming his nails, he said, “Well, never saw any of it in real life. But pictures, yeah. I like how simple it looks, just the bare essentials, enough for you to imagine the rest. And I like all those piercings and holes he put in. Reminds me that human beings aren’t whole without somebody to love.”
“I’d never thought of his work in quite that way, but, yeah, you have a point.” Penelope tried to hide her amazement by fidgeting with the hem of the leather welder’s apron she wore.
“I was hoping you were coming along with it. I figure seeing a big sculpture like that for real is kind of like hearing live music. First time I ever heard an orchestra play, I felt those bass drums rumble right down in my chest. Ain’t nothing like it.”
“Well...” Penelope scrutinized him for any signs of false flattery. She made her decision. “I’ll show you what I’ve got so far.” She struck off for the barn, stopped and glanced back at Geraldine.
“Aw, she won’t bother anything. She’s happy and them dandelions will ease that stomach of hers.”
Penelope smothered a laugh. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
In the shop, she pulled out the pieces she’d been working with on the English wheel, thin strips of stainless steel she’d carefully formed into wavy ribbons. “This will be the top of it.”
“Man. I like that. That sure is pretty. And look at that welding. I’ll bet you could do some mighty fine bodywork on a car. I ever get in a fender-bender, I’ll just bring the old thing to you, how ’bout it.” Uncle Jake ran a finger along the mirror-bright finish. “That thing’ll glitter like a dime-store window when you get it all put together and the sun hits it.”
She nodded approvingly. “That’s the reason I’m going with stainless steel. It’s harder to work with, though, and of course I have to be careful handling it so I don’t mar the finish.”
“’Course.”
A rap on the barn door made them both look back. Brandon stood there, not exactly smiling, but not wearing the grouchy expression he had so much around her. “Hey. Swine-removal services have arrived.”
Penelope ordered herself not to be so glad, but her heart was as obedient as a spoilt child.
“Thanks, I wasn’t sure what to do with a pig.”
“I saw she got your petunias. What are you guys talking about in here?”
Was that suspicion in Brandon’s voice? Overprotection at the very least, and Penelope well knew what overprotective love sounded like.
“You seen this?” Uncle Jake gestured at the ribbons of steel. “Ain’t this something?”
Brandon walked over to take a closer look. “I’ve seen a model, but it looks different when it’s this big. Those ripples remind me of water.”
Penelope smiled. “That’s it! That’s exactly what I wanted—these will be my interpretations of the man and woman in the piece. I’m having to weld pieces together after I’ve formed them. Oh, I’m so glad you...”
She didn’t finish her thought. They understood her art, but did that mean they would applaud it? Or support it? Or at least not get in her way?
But just understanding and appreciation was a change. Her mother, perfectionist that she was, would have said, “Honey, wouldn’t it have looked nicer flat and smooth? Why have all those wrinkles in it? It looks like it needs ironing.”
Her father would have pooh-poohed the waste of quality stainless steel. And Trent would have said something smarmy about the whole concept, but that’s what older brothers did, right?
Brandon returned her grin, but suddenly he seemed to retreat into his deputy persona, despite his dusty T-shirt and blue jeans. His expression was nothing beyond politeness.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Just tired from working, and the call from the sheriff’s department—”
“You’re off today!” Uncle Jake exploded. “What’s he want, anyway, you to pull another extra shift?”
“No, no, Uncle Jake. I’m off. The sheriff’s department called me about Geraldine. It’s okay, no extra shifts today. I’m just glad I got here in time to help you load Geraldine.”
“What? Me? Need help loading a hog? Been doin’ it all my life. Don’t need any such molly-coddling.”
Penelope smothered a chuckle as Brandon rolled his eyes. She caught his gaze and he gave her a pointed shake of his head, as if to say, What can you do?
“And speaking of which, I guess I’d better load the ol’ girl and get going.”
Penelope and Brandon followed Uncle Jake out into the bright sunshine. Penelope looked from the hog to Uncle Jake. “How do you plan on getting her on the truck?”
“Oh, that’s easy enough. I been training her.” Uncle Jake walked over and dropped the tailgate. He yanked out a wide plank and rigged up a ramp. With two fingers to his lips, he forced out a shrill whistle through his teeth. The hog jerked her head up and stared in her master’s direction. He stretched out an arm and pointed to the back of the truck.
Penelope could’ve sworn the hog looked downcast.
Geraldine dipped her head back for another dandelion, and Uncle Jake whistled again. This time, he added in a stern voice, “I mean it, Geraldine. On the truck now. Fun and games are over for you.”
To Penelope’s amazement, the hog shuffled over and picked her way up the ramp.
“T
hat’s incredible! If I had a video of that, we could—”
“’T’ain’t nothin.” Uncle Jake slammed the tailgate shut. “Raised that hog on a bottle, from the time she was barely able to suck. She’s always been on the runty side, but she’s sharp, that one.”
Brandon laughed. “I think ‘that one’ outgrew her runt status a long time ago, Uncle Jake. Need any help getting her back in the pen?”
“Nope.” Uncle Jake checked the tailgate. “Best get her home now. Will I see you for supper? Penelope, you’re welcome to come, too.”
The captive Geraldine began to grunt in the back of the truck. “All right, all right. We’re going. But who’s the one that run off and eat up somebody else’s petunias, huh?” He reached in and gave the hog a pat.
Beside Penelope, Brandon shook his head. “I think I’ll grab something from town and fix supper at my place.”
“Yeah, you’ll run into that sheriff of ours, and he’ll say you need to write a couple dozen reports, and oh, by the way, somebody’s called in sick, so can you maybe pull their shift?”
But Uncle Jake apparently wasn’t expecting an answer. He slammed the door shut behind him and pulled off, still grumbling.
Penelope let out the laugh she’d been holding back. “Your uncle is priceless! Pigs and sculptures? I would have never guessed he was a fan of Henry Moore’s!”
“Henry who?”
“A famous sculptor—oh, never mind.” She wasn’t going to let an art appreciation lecture ruin the moment. “Thanks for coming. I had my mom on the phone telling me I was drafted for bridesmaid duty again and Geraldine eating up all my petunias.”
“A wedding, huh? Who’s getting married?”
“My brother. I’m going to try—”
But her cell phone buzzed in her pocket.
She snagged it and flipped it open, not even getting a greeting out before her mother snapped, “Are you done with your barnyard animals now?”
“Mom, you make it sound—”
Her mother modulated the irritation out of her voice, which told Penelope just how irritated she was. “Penelope, sweetheart, I know you don’t like weddings, and yes, it does mean a flight home, but I don’t think it would be that much of a burden for you. It is your only brother’s wedding, after all.”
A Place to Call Home (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 11
