by Dee Tenorio
Frowning, her blue eyes narrowing slightly, Lorna unbent enough to take it. She sat in the chair next to her purse and coat and slipped the papers out. She read, eyes moving as she took in the information. A flick of her wrist and the pages slid back into the envelope. She extended it back to Pen. “I suppose I should be surprised.”
“But you’re not.” Penelope slipped it back into her desk. Of course Lorna wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t even expressed shock when Penelope had shown up at home pregnant and determined to keep her child.
“You were never particularly subtle about him.” Lorna sniffed, blinked and flicked her cool gaze back to Penelope. “I suppose he’s aware of his paternity.”
“Yes.”
A tightening at the corners of Lorna’s lips never boded well for one’s self-confidence. “Well, I hope you took steps to protect yourself and Chloe prior to this.”
At what could only be a blank look on Penelope’s face—her mind was still trying to formulate a question—Lorna tsked. “Proving he’s her father gives him rights, Penelope. Legal rights. He could demand to be added to her birth certificate. He could interfere in every aspect of her life—medical, religious, educational. My God, he could sue you for custody. Surely you considered that before you gave him an open door right into her future.” As usual, Lorna didn’t wait for a response before her eyes flickered with disappointment. “Let me guess, you let your own feelings about him cloud your judgment yet again.”
“No.” I just didn’t think that far ahead. Raul wouldn’t take Chloe away. He was still trying to grasp the word Dad, for the love of Pete.
But Lorna didn’t know that. Not that she’d been particularly sweet and pleasant before her husband’s death, but becoming a widow in her thirties had left her with a kind of fatalistic pragmatism—only the idiotic should be surprised by oncoming doom. She raised an imperious eyebrow. “Oh, somehow I doubt that. As soon as that boy comes along, you completely lose sight of reality. You always have. That’s how you ended up pregnant in the first place.”
“Mother.” The angry growl in Penelope’s voice didn’t faze Lorna.
It didn’t stop her, either. “But the same has never been true for him, has it? He never once gave you a moment’s thought when you were children, and when he left town, he didn’t so much as look back once. Not at you. Don’t get it into your head that having his child will change that. What good will you do Chloe if you tangle an already-complicated situation with your ridiculous obsession?”
She knew Lorna couldn’t resist. “I’m not complicating anything. The only thing between Raul and me is Chloe. I’m not stupid enough to expect anything else.” Even if he’d kissed her as if he meant to devour her.
Lorna’s steely gaze bore into her again, but whatever conclusions she derived with it, she didn’t seem inclined to share. “Chloe is your main concern, Penelope. The moment you created her, she became the most important thing in your life. Not that man. Fantasizing about him or any kind of relationship with him will only make you miserable when it doesn’t happen.”
At least that they could agree on. “Chloe has always come first, Mother. Nothing has changed that. Nothing will change that.”
Her mother’s mouth pursed, the fine lines around her lips deepening for a second. Whatever she seemed intent on saying, she appeared to rethink. “Well, at least with his obscenely sized family, you should have a little more help with her. God knows I can’t take care of her forever.”
Lorna-speak for “I can’t control her anymore”.
Penelope made a noncommittal sound. Lorna had already done far more than most other mothers would have. She’d supported Penelope through her pregnancy, been with her through the delivery and, though not exactly a Florence Nightingale about it, she had cared for Chloe almost exclusively as Penelope struggled to get back into top positions in her competitive courses. If it hadn’t been for Lorna, she wouldn’t have made it. Chloe wouldn’t have made it. It’d be a cold day in Hell before Pen forgot that.
Still, it sure felt pretty icy when Lorna delivered her mega-sized doses of painful reality.
“What do you intend to do now?”
The evil little voice in the back of Penelope’s head tempted her to say she was going to club Raul over the head and run away with him bound and gagged in the back of her car.
“He wants to get to know her, to ensure she has a place with his family.” The other thing would have been satisfying, but only for a few seconds. “He wants us to go with him to his parents’ house tomorrow.”
“I suppose it’s the respectful thing to do.”
Funny, Lorna agreeing with Raul. Penelope would have to tell him about it, if only to see him make that expression of distaste.
“Be careful, Penelope,” Lorna said suddenly, her tone an almost gentle warning. A warning of what, Pen didn’t want to imagine.
“It’s only his parents’ house. What’s the worst that could happen?” she asked with false brightness, repeating the platitudes she’d been cycling through her own head all day. It was just lunch. With people she knew from experience were mostly decent and kind.
“They could hate you,” Lorna answered helpfully.
Penelope could only sigh and give in to the urge to hold her forehead with her hand. No, she was definitely not going to the Montenga house.
{{{
The red porch mocked her.
Penelope stood on the strange garnet-colored concrete, watching Chloe toe off her beaten sneakers and Raul untie his black dress shoes. She wore a simple pair of black pumps—ones that reminded her uncomfortably of Lorna’s from the day before—and figured she could kick those off as she stepped inside. It wasn’t the shoe removal bothering her so much as it was her own removal.
Raul had arrived at her house dead-on noon. His fire-station uniform, a feature she’d started to consider as much a part of his identity as his sly grin and chocolate gaze, was strangely absent. Instead, he wore a pair of charcoal slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. She could see the outline of an A-shirt through the fine grain on the fabric and the whole effect seemed to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and the lean line of his hips. It was a completely unfair use of masculinity to get his way. Within minutes, he’d managed to hustle her into his truck and tuck Chloe in the backseat, all the while nodding at her arguments as to why this wasn’t a good time for her. Now here she was, staring at the red porch and getting ready to enter the house of the woman who’d vowed never to accept her child. Lovely.
At some point, she was going to learn how to say no to this man and mean it.
“Can we go in now?” Chloe asked, balancing on the tops of her shoes.
Raul, finished with his own ties, nodded and opened the door. He slipped his feet from the shoes one at a time, stepping into the house without so much as a knock. He turned back, reaching his hand to Penelope, messages in his dark eyes she feared understanding. His hand stayed steady, the skin of his palm notably lighter than the bronzed shade of the rest of him. She saw scars on his fingertips, the calluses he’d earned, the strength of his hand there, but it was the rock-solid confidence of the offer that had her drawing in an unsure breath. His body blocked the door. There was no other way though without letting him lead. He wasn’t just offering her help out of her shoes. He was asking her to trust him as he pulled her into his family.
She wanted so badly to do what she’d done all those years ago, grab her baby and run. She glanced at Chloe, whose little face was lit up with anticipation and impatience with her mother. No running this time.
Please, God, don’t let this be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. She slipped her hand into Raul’s, felt his warmth infuse her fingers and kicked off the shoes. He pulled her across his body, transferring her to his other arm as he allowed her the space to enter. She thought he’d let go once she was inside, but his arm slid around her waist, keeping her close. Securely at his side. As if that were where she belonged.
Damn him for no
t even knowing when he was being cruel. Her eyes closed all on their own, her sensitivity to him overwhelmingly worse since that stupid kiss.
Damn herself for never learning any better.
“Ready?” Chloe asked, focusing Penelope’s dazed senses back to the door.
Her face bright with challenge, she launched herself three unnecessary feet at Raul’s side, giving a shriek when he caught her with one arm. Tucking her into his hold like a football, Raul started forward into the house. The small foyer opened on the right to the edge of what must be a living room. The sound from inside the house was nearly roaring, with a TV blaring and conversations crossing over it. Kids ran as a human clump into a room directly opposite the foyer, no one so much as noticing the new additions.
Penelope tried to pull away, not wanting to be glimpsed entering as if she were attached to him, but Raul’s fingers spread over her belly and pulled her tighter.
“Cálmete.” He lowered his head enough to rumble in her ear. “You don’t want them to see us fighting, do you, Pen?”
“They’ll see you limping if you don’t move your hand,” she said through her teeth as they were finally spotted.
“Tio Raul’s here!” a teenaged girl yelled, coming out of the room the clump had disappeared into, a cell phone to her ear. She was pretty, her thick black hair pulled back from a striking face. She wore a black button-up shirt and a simple set of black pants and crossed the room to hug Raul and kiss his cheek.
“You leaving already?” he asked, hefting Chloe up a little.
The girl quirked her mouth. “Work. Matinee shift at the theatre came up short. If my mom asks, tell her I’m on the phone in the bathroom. She’ll never know the difference.” She tilted her head and neck to look at Chloe. “So you’re our cousin, huh?”
“Hi, Bug.” Chloe said, picking up her hand.
The pretty teen didn’t so much as bat an eye at what couldn’t possibly be her name. She just smiled, patted Chloe’s head and shrugged. “Everyone’s been kicking themselves for not figuring it out since you called,” she said to her uncle. “See you around, Chloe. Save me some buñuelos, okay? I know you eat them all.” She gave Penelope a passing smile then slid past all three of them and out the door.
“One down,” Raul said almost musingly, “three hundred and twelve to go.”
Penelope ached to go with the teenager. “Her name can’t really be Bug.”
“She had big eyes when she was a baby. It stuck.”
“That’s horrible.” Especially for someone that beautiful.
“Nah. Keeps her humble.” He tugged the hand he still had yet to move from her hip. “Come on, everyone’s waiting.”
Penelope didn’t budge. “You really called them all?” He’d said as much when she made the mistake of letting him in her house twenty minutes ago, but she hadn’t strictly believed him.
He raised a brow, shifting Chloe again so her braid hung sideways and her legs hung in crazy angles. “I said I did.”
“I know, but—”
“But nothing. You have to start taking what I tell you at face value, Pen, or this is never going to work.”
She had to swallow the rock that seemed lodged in her throat. “What won’t work?”
His only answer was to narrow an eye at her and tug again. She was confused enough to be pulled forward into the warm reception of kids who were happy to see Chloe and their uncle. Adults watched from seats on the couch, dark eyes curious, no one apparently surprised that Chloe was practically upside down as Raul moved the pack of them slowly forward into what looked like a dining room. A huge table, laden with all kinds of foods in bowls and bags and pink pastry boxes. Everything went quiet at once, the second Raul stopped. Kids parted, the TV silenced, the house going collectively still as Penelope finally saw the older man waiting in the captain’s chair.
Thomas Montenga.
She’d seen Raul’s father before, of course. The few times they’d been in speaking distance, he’d always been courteous, a bit of old-world grace to his still-large frame. When she’d seen him at Julia’s parties for Danny, he always wore an old hat, kept a cane nearby and stayed in the shade. It had given her the mistaken impression that as a man coming up on seventy, he was in some way frail. Looking at him now, in his own home where he was unquestioningly the lord of the manor, she saw only a man comfortable in his own strength.
He looked like Raul, she thought with a nervous blush stealing over her face. Dark from years in the sun, his shoulders had only the slightest droop. His hair, more silver than black now, was combed back and slicked with some kind of oil, only the curl of his bangs falling forward. Like his granddaughter, he wore black, but the panels of his smooth cotton shirt were white, with black diamonds running the length. The lines at his eyes and the grooves around his mouth were deep, but not unkind. She could see the indentations where his dimples were, his full lips spread in a welcoming smile.
Raul brought Chloe upright, looking around while she blinked at the sudden shift, her small face still red from the pressure. “Where’s Mom?”
Thomas’s eyes flickered, his mouth flattening slightly. “She’s not well today so she’s staying in her room.”
Penelope forced herself not to sigh in relief, especially when the pressure of Raul’s fingertips bit into her hip.
Thomas’s gaze shifted to Chloe, a smile lighting his craggy face into handsome lines. “But no one wanted to miss accepting the newest addition to our family, so we didn’t cancel. You can talk to your abuela when she’s feeling better, no?”
Chloe turned to Penelope for a second, brows raised. Pasting a smile on her lips, Penelope nodded. Ophie probably wouldn’t feel better for a long, long time, but Chloe didn’t need to know that. Not now.
“Ven, mija. Let me take a look at you.”
Chloe took a tentative step, then another, so Thomas could reach out with a gnarled hand and gently touch her chin. He tilted her face from side to side, inspecting quietly. He looked into her eyes, long enough and deep enough that Penelope had to fight the urge to pull her child back. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“I see a wonderful future for you, changa. One day, you come back and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Chloe smiled. “Do I get rich?”
Thomas laughed. “Oh, you are your father’s daughter.” He leaned forward, conspiratorially whispering, “More than your wildest dreams. But that’s just the beginning.”
“Cool. And look, I’m wearing the medal.” Chloe pulled it from beneath the collar of her T-shirt and held it out.
“I see that. How about you get some food and later we can talk about what that medal means.”
“You mean the guy on it? Because I already googled him at school. The dog head thing was kinda creepy but—”
“I mean to us, your family.”
“Ohhhh.” Chloe shuffled for a second and glanced back at Penelope. “I should shut up and eat, huh?”
“It’s a good place to start.” Raul took hold of her shoulder and led her to the table. “Then you can go find Danny and show him how much shinier your medal is.”
Chloe seemed to like that idea. She followed Raul to the side of the table where the plates were and little by little noise began to fill the house again. Kids flooded the table, not reaching for the food so much as trying to talk to Chloe all at the same time.
Pen, feeling a penetrating gaze on her face, turned back to find Thomas watching her. She didn’t sense any judgment in those dark eyes. Just…curiosity. He gestured to the chair next to him. Penelope glanced at Raul and Chloe, who were maneuvering around the table, a shocking amount of food already stacked on their various plates.
“I won’t hurt you,” Thomas added.
Unable to be rude, Penelope nodded and took the seat. Thomas tried to catch her gaze, but—call it self-preservation—Penelope kept it down where her hands rested on the table. She caught his nod out of the corner of her eye and breathed a sigh of relie
f. She doubted he could actually see the future, but it didn’t pay to let a man like that see too deeply into her soul.
“She’s a beautiful girl,” Thomas said finally, his accent curling the edges of his words. “You’ve done well with her.”
“I had help,” she said, her voice thick with her nerves.
“Sí, your mother, no?”
“Yes.” The mother who’d left her in the office yesterday only when she’d been absolutely sure Penelope had no illusions that she’d ever mean anything to a man like Raul. Lorna’s idea of protection, no doubt. When one had no unreal expectations, one didn’t get hurt. Being in this house, surrounded by what was clearly a tight-knit group, unreal was about all there was. People were talking, laughing, hugging easily and as if everyone did it all the time. As if they hadn’t seen each other in months or years when most of the adults lived in the same school district.
“A good woman.”
“Yes,” Penelope repeated, finally meeting his gaze. Lorna hadn’t been happy when Penelope admitted she was pregnant. She’d been angry and embarrassed, but she’d never for a second given Penelope cause to doubt her support. Her acceptance. “She is.”
Thomas’s eyes widened and he seemed to register the comparison Penelope was silently making to his wife. For a second he bristled, his jaw tightening, but then he seemed to draw his temper back in. He blew out a breath before nodding. “Please, eat. My daughters worked hard to provide it all.”
His daughters. Not his wife. Penelope nodded at the distinction. At least they understood each other. Neither of them had any illusions of what was really happening with Ophelia. What would never happen.
“I appreciate that, thank you.” She rose, eager to catch up with Raul and Chloe and find the nearest corner to hide herself in. She didn’t dare get it in her head that anyone here was particularly interested in her, as it should be. She was there for her daughter. For Chloe’s comfort, a harbor should anything go wrong. That was all.
