by Becky Wade
Creighton clapped three times. “Hustle out there, guys. Hustle!”
“Go, go, go!” Eli yelled.
Their shortest player ran down the court, a blur of out-of-control arms and legs. He continued too far under the basket, realized his mistake, dribbled back around and through the mass of bodies that had just arrived. Then he took a shot.
Airball.
Class Clown caught it. “That counts as a rebound!” he yelled at Eli.
“Shoot!” Eli urged him.
He threw the ball up. It went very high and then dropped a long way—right through the net with a swish.
The entire team erupted into howls of joy. So much so, they almost forgot to activate the full court press when the other team tried to rush toward their own basket. The Sharpshooters found their places just in time. Guarded with all their hearts.
The buzzer sounded. Eli punched a fist into the air. “Yes!”
The boys reacted as if they’d just won the NBA Championship Trophy, crowding into each other in an excited, jumping mass. Eli joined them, whooping and grinning.
The old saying If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again slid through his mind.
He hadn’t succeeded yet with Penelope.
But if there was hope for the Sharpshooters, there had to be hope for him, too.
Chapter Nine
On Tuesday afternoon, Penelope spotted Jodi walking toward Polka-Dot Apron Pies. Before the older woman could so much as offer a greeting, Penelope leaned onto her wrists and jutted as far as possible out the trailer’s order window. “Interested in an even exchange?”
Jodi tucked a strand of long brown hair behind her ear and lifted a pleasant expression toward Penelope. “What kind of exchange?”
“Your advice for my pie.”
“I’m happy to give you advice for free.”
“And I’m happy to give you pie for free in return.”
Jodi’s oldest son practiced soccer near here on Tuesday afternoons, and Jodi often swung by with her two younger kids after dropping him off. Penelope knew the pie preferences of every member of Jodi’s family of five. She waved a hand toward Jodi’s thirteen-year-old girl and ten-year-old boy. “Are you three in the mood for Theo’s Pie, Theo’s Pie, and mixed berry?”
“Yes, please.”
“Grab a table and I’ll meet you there.”
While Kevin plated, she went through her leave-work routine. Take off polka-dot apron. Release hair from topknot. Grab purse.
“Done for the day?” Kevin asked her.
“Yep.”
He passed her the three slices, then held the door for her. “See ya, boss.”
“See ya later, Kevin.”
“It’s been a good one.”
“It has!”
He raised a hand in a parting wave. “I really appreciate working here.”
“I’m glad.”
He blushed with pleasure.
She edged away.
In classic Kevin fashion, he didn’t turn back into the trailer. Mr. Never-Know-When-To-End-An-Exchange lingered.
“Kevin?”
“Mm?”
“You’re dismissed,” she told him, like a kindly teacher to a student.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave a salute that looked nothing like a soldier’s salute and, beaming, finally closed the door behind her.
Penelope joined Jodi at one of the round, white metal tables lining the sidewalk in front of Misty River’s three food trucks. Jodi encouraged her kids to take their pie to a spot on the grass. Agreeably, they moved off and out of earshot.
“What type of advice are you in need of?” Jodi asked.
“Dating advice.”
Jodi’s rectangular face brightened. “Tell all.”
Penelope explained her dating rule, the reasons why she’d stuck to it all these years, and why Eli Price was making her ponder the merits of riddling her rule with buckshot.
Jodi dabbed her mouth with a napkin and sat back, giving Penelope a fond smile. “I sometimes think that when God hears us making statements about our future plans, what we will and will not do, He laughs. Then He rubs his hands together and says, ‘We’ll see about that.’”
“Gah.”
“There’s a verse . . . I wish I could remember it exactly. But, to paraphrase, it basically says that we can make plans, but it’s the Lord who will determine our steps.”
“I’ve lived by my rule for ten years.”
“And I totally get why you made that rule for yourself. But if God has other ideas or it’s no longer what you want for yourself, you have the power to unmake your rule. There’s no shame in that. It’s not that you failed at rule-keeping. It’s just that circumstances changed.”
Penelope explained that, since receiving Eli’s haiku, she’d texted him her thanks. He’d said you’re welcome. And that had been it. “You’ve been married to a fighter pilot for a while,” Penelope said. “Should I decide to date Eli, what pros and what cons should I expect?”
“Based on what you’ve told me, you already have a good grip on the cons. The girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, and husbands of those in the military don’t have it easy. At all. Long absences are rough on relationships.” She followed the progress of her spork as she swirled it through mixed berries. “It was particularly rough on me when our kids were small. I’d function as a single mom for months at a time. Then when Chris came home, I’d need to immediately adjust back to being a married mom with a husband at home.”
“I can imagine.”
“You’ll come into contact with plenty of people who’ll disapprove of the politics of whatever president’s in office. They’ll give you an earful about all the ways the president is mishandling the military.”
Penelope winced. She loathed politics.
“Should you date someone in the military, you’ll have to accept that their duty will often come before you. Sometimes they’ll be given a choice and they’ll have to try to balance what’s best for their relationship with what’s best for their career. Other times, they won’t be given a choice.”
“I understand.”
Jodi swallowed a bite. Her focus meandered to her kids. They’d finished their pie and were now sitting cross-legged facing each other. The older sister was teaching her brother a hand-clap routine.
Jodi’s gaze returned to Penelope. “Loving someone in the military requires great sacrifice. But it also comes with great reward.” Her eyes harbored years of experience, her mouth a curl of tenderness. “I married a hero, Penelope. I’ve never lost sight of that.”
Penelope nodded.
“The men and women who do this work are courageous. What could be a greater honor than loving and supporting someone who’s given their oath to protect their country and their countrymen, even at the cost of their own life?”
“I can’t think of one,” Penelope answered, humbled. Put that way, her pie-making contribution to the world seemed very small.
“I’m incredibly proud of Chris.”
Penelope thought of Eli, in Syria for months. Flying mission after mission there. Dealing with the discomforts and the pressures. Executing his job. Committed.
“Another positive,” Jodi continued, “is that I’ve made friends who’ve become closer to me than family members. This life fosters amazingly deep friendships. My friends have had my back so many times.”
A few minutes passed while Jodi finished her pie.
“What are you going to do?” Jodi asked.
Penelope groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but after all this time, I’m leaning toward dissolving my ironclad dating rule. It’s just . . . it’s just that I’m concerned. He’s leaving in six months. Is your family going to Germany, too?”
“We are.”
“Do you think it’s smart for me to start something with Eli now?”
Jodi lifted a shoulder. “A lot can happen in six months. I’d suggest you do what your heart tells you to do, then let God determine yo
ur steps.”
• • •
Around dinnertime the following night, Penelope was absorbed in an episode of The Great British Baking Show when a knock sounded on her door.
She startled and Roy pounced straight up into the air. He landed furtively. His flat face asked, Expecting anyone?
“Nope.” She rose, the farfetched hope that it might be Eli tugging upward inside her like a kite. She aligned her eye with the door’s peephole.
Not Eli. Aubrey and Theo, who held Madeline in her baby carrier over one of his arms, stood in the hallway. The kite swooped back to earth.
Penelope ushered them inside, exclaiming over how great they all looked. Aubrey, in a sundress with her hair flat-ironed. Theo, in a white business shirt open at the neck. They’d dressed Madeline in an outfit Penelope had given her—a one-piece with cherries on it and a matching red headband.
“This is almost more baby cuteness than I can stand, you realize,” Penelope told them. “Hello, darling itty-bitty human. Your preciousness meter broke because it couldn’t keep up.”
Madeline sucked her pacifier, looking content to be in the care of both her parents instead of the care of her well-meaning but inexperienced aunt.
Penelope waved them to seats in the living area.
“I haven’t left the house in days and I was desperate for a change of scenery,” Aubrey said.
“We’re on our way out for dinner,” Theo said.
“Okay, but you’re going to take things very easy, right?” Penelope couldn’t help but ask her sister-in-law. After Sunday’s events, she didn’t trust Aubrey not to slump over, unconscious, at any moment.
“Very easy. The most strenuous thing I’ve done today is walk up that flight of stairs.” Aubrey hooked a thumb toward the building’s staircase.
Penelope regarded her with concern.
“Penelope, Aubrey’s going to be fine,” Theo said. “The clot is gone, and they think they have her medicines calibrated just right. Her medical team is on top of things. It’s very unlikely that she’ll have a relapse.”
“Yes! Of course. I know.”
“Really? Because ever since Sunday you’ve seemed a little traumatized,” Theo told her.
“Which I totally understand,” Aubrey said. “It must have been an awful shock to find me passed out like that.”
“I’m just glad you’re all right. I’m sorry again that I wasn’t with you when it happened—”
“Look into my face,” Theo said to her sternly. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to apologize to us again. You were there that day because you were doing us a favor.”
Aubrey regarded her with sweet sincerity. “Even if you’d been right beside me, I would have fainted.”
“Yes, but if I’d been beside you, I could have intervened to help you sooner.”
“How could you have done more than you did?” Theo asked. “She came to when her body was ready to come to.”
“You’ve done so many favors for us this past week and a half,” Aubrey said. “You’ve gone above and beyond.”
“No—”
“Yes,” Theo insisted. “Thanks for everything.”
Love for them washed over Penelope like a waterfall shower. “You’re welcome.”
She’d learned that taking care of a newborn was hard. Physically hard. But the mental weight of the responsibility was hard to bear, too. Aubrey’s medical issues: also hard.
The three people in front of her were a living reminder that love isn’t always rosy. Love demands effort. Sometimes it’s scary. The hardships that come with love will refine you with painful fire. But if you let them, the difficulties can also deepen love.
Madeline’s pacifier went squeak squeak squeak.
Roy zeroed in on the pacifier the way he would a hummingbird. “Roy.” Penelope activated his soft, flopping fish toy, then tossed it. The cat skidded across the room to it, batted it. Skidded. Gnawed on it. Rolled on his back, clasping it in his paws.
“Go get ready,” Theo said to Penelope. “You’re coming with us to dinner.”
“I am?”
“Yes,” he answered. “And we’re leaving in ten minutes because I’ve been starving for the last half hour. Another half hour from now I’ll be seriously cranky.”
She hurried to the bathroom and freshened her makeup. While brushing her teeth, she contemplated her clothing options. She settled on a dove gray V-neck T-shirt, black jeans ripped at both knees, and the pair of shoes she wore only when feeling adventurous. Leopard-print Vans.
• • •
They ate at Whiskey’s because it was Aubrey’s favorite. With its wooden chandeliers, art-covered walls, and servers wearing red plaid ties, Whiskey’s environment served “upscale pub” almost as effectively as the fare.
Wednesday nights were karaoke night at Whiskey’s, and a fifty-something woman was currently singing the obligatory karaoke song “I Will Survive” from the small stage located next to the front windows.
Penelope relished the flavors of her steak salad and admired how comfortable her brother looked, holding his baby in the crook of his arm and giving her a bottle.
The karaoke microphone gave a squawk followed by a gap of quiet.
She leaned toward Aubrey. “What are your plans for—”
The opening bars of a familiar, old-timey song coasted across the restaurant.
“‘You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips,’” a male voice sang. A recognizable male voice.
Surprise shot a tingle down Penelope’s spine. She forgot the question she’d been about to ask Aubrey and twisted in her seat.
Eli stood on the stage in front of the microphone, grinning.
Penelope’s eyes went wide and an astonished huff of amusement escaped.
He was performing the song she’d cajoled him into singing on prior occasions. But those times, they’d been surrounded by a small number of their friends. This time, a large number of strangers were watching. The restaurant was packed.
Light gleamed against his brown-blond hair and the shoulders of his navy henley. He looked tall and built in his jeans and battered leather lace-up boots.
Eli was a mediocre-to-bad singer. God had blessed him with so many abilities. Vocal talent, too, would not have been fair.
All at once, four of Eli’s friends, including Sam, crowded onto the stage behind him and joined in for the chorus. “‘You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’.’”
Penelope’s cheeks creased with amusement. How in the world had Eli convinced guarded Sam to step in as his backup singer?
She stole a glance at Theo. He gave her a jaunty eyebrow lift and wink. Ah. This was a setup. Eli must have contacted Theo, spilled the beans about his courtship plans, and enlisted Theo’s help.
It seemed that their table wasn’t the only table that’d taken notice of the performers. All the women in the place had swiveled toward the front. This was the best entertainment to hit Misty River, perhaps ever.
“Woo-hoo!” a grandmother called.
“Yes!” A curly-haired blonde danced in her seat, arms overhead. “I’ll give you that loving feeling!”
“Now there’s no welcome hook in the skies when I preach to you,” Eli sang. He’d messed up the lyrics of that line because he was watching her and paying too little attention to the words on the screen.
She burst out laughing.
“And now you’re um um um butterflies little wings I flew.”
More laughter welled up in her.
His backup singers joined in on each chorus, winning everyone over with their enthusiasm. The diners surrounding her began clapping in time. When they reached the final “Bring back that lovin’ feelin’” refrain, everyone in the place sang along.
Eli’s performance was simultaneously sexy and adorable. She could not believe he’d done this . . . for her.
Uproarious applause shook the room when they finished.
Someone shouted, “Mor
e! More!” And numerous voices took up the chant.
Eli attempted to pass the microphone to Sam, but Sam backed away, making a no way signal with his hands.
One of Eli’s other buddies took up the gauntlet and began singing “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
Eli stepped off the stage and stood near the door, his vision trained on her with affection, uncertainty, humor. Did you like it? he mouthed.
She rushed to her feet and wove through the tables. When she reached him, she grabbed his hand and pulled him outside. Mellow, peachy light flowed over them.
She towed him around the edge of Whiskey’s, then behind to a secluded spot near a tree. They faced each other, her hand still in his.
“You made a fool of yourself for me,” she said.
“Yeah. If you want me to make an even bigger fool of myself, I can always go back in and massacre Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You.’”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“No?”
“No. You made an adequate fool of yourself and allayed the last of my worries about you. I loved the song. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His handsome face settled into serious lines. “I’m crazy about you.”
Instinctively, she placed her free hand over her heart, to seal in the power of his words. “I’m crazy about you, too.”
His eyes glowed with the intensity of his hope.
She was about to risk a lot. To put herself out there, trust him, and, in doing so, open herself up to potential future sorrow. But she had a feeling he—they—might be worth the risk.
Sometimes, in order to grab hold of something good, you had to empty your hands. And so, very purposely, she let go of the concerns she’d been clutching that had separated her from Eli. She was going to have to trust God to work out their future.
The only choice she had before her today: yes or no to giving Eli a chance.
“I . . .” She bit her lower lip. Released it. “I hereby issue an amendment to my dating rule.”
A slow, lopsided smile moved across his lips.
“My rule still stands except in the case of one particular airman. Eli Price is exempt from my rule. Effective immediately.” She reached up, her fingers tunneling into the hair at the back of his neck, delighting in the feel of it.