~*~
Sunday afternoon after the noon dishes were dried and put away, Penn slipped outside to visit with Peri. His leathery smell soothed her. She had three months to study for the certified public accounting exam. She should have already passed it, but she hadn’t. She’d taken the exam twice and passed parts of it, but she needed to pass the whole thing if she ever made her dream of working in downtown Pittsburgh a reality.
She should be studying now, but she’d set up a study schedule with Sundays off because the aunts were adamant to leave Sundays free. A heaviness settled on her chest, and she knew she needed Peri time. Tugging the brush down his neck, she nuzzled close and stroked his nose. “Hey, boy. You’re sweet.”
Peri tossed his head and shuffled his hooves.
“Yes, you are. I just wish you’d stay in your pen like a regular horse. I’m glad you’re not visiting today. I need some hugs.” She sighed. “I don’t want to go to Hartwood Acres. Can’t I just stay here with you, buddy?”
“Penny! You have a phone call.” Aunt Winnie rang the bell mounted on the back porch. “Penny?”
Penn rubbed her forehead against Peri’s neck before placing the brush back on the shelf. She jogged to the house.
Aunt Winnie leaned out the back door. “It’s Linda. She sounds frazzled.”
Penn accepted the kitchen phone, frantic words streaming out of the ear piece.
“Said to the doctor, absolutely not. I cannot—”
An important sounding announcement blared in the background, overriding Linda’s frustrated monologue. “Linda. Hello, Linda. This is Penn. What’s up?”
“What’s up? Is that you, Penn? My foot, that’s what’s up. It’s up in the air. I’m in traction, if you can believe that, over here at Passavant. The doctor will not let me go, but I’m going to speak to someone—”
“You’re in the hospital? But you’re supposed to come to Hartwood tonight. We’re—” Penn clamped her lips, remembering her manners a few seconds too late. “I mean. What happened? How are you?”
“My heel caught in my lavender broom skirt. Do you know the one I’m talking about? Why do I insist on still wearing skirts and dresses to church when everybody else has gone to pants and shorts and anything they can pick up off their floor? Anyway, I was running late for Sunday School this morning, trying to do too much, and my heel caught my hem. I fell right out of my van door. Sprained my wrist, too.” She took a breath.
“Sooo, I guess Hartwood is out for tonight?” Penn crossed her fingers.
“Unfortunately, unless I can cut myself down from this trapeze thing they’ve got me tied to, I won’t make it to the concert. You and John will have to carry the charge for the committee.”
“John? And me?” Penn swallowed. “You mean Al and Missy, too, right?”
“Al is working a lot of overtime now so that he can take some time when the baby’s born. You might see him, but he’ll be on crowd control and parking. Missy—who knows? I’ve texted her but haven’t heard back.”
“But, Linda—”
“Penn, the pain medication is starting to wear off.” She panted like a woman in labor. “You’ll be fine. Just listen. See what you think. Talk to the band members.”
“Talk to the band members?” Penn bit her lip to save her molars.
“Of course. You can’t get everything off their website. Try to talk with them. Let them know a little about us. See if they have a charge rate for non-profits. You can do this. John will help. He’s a good guy. Gotta go. The nurse is here with my drugs. Let me know how it goes. Bye.”
Excellent news.
Not.
She hugged herself, hopping to quell her rolling stomach.
Penn hadn’t wanted to go when she thought she’d be able to float with the group, listen to some live music, and nod along with whatever the other committee members decided. Now the committee had become John and herself. Two people didn’t make a committee. Two people made a couple.
Awkward.
Hartwood Acres attracted families and couples like malls attracted pre-teen girls. So not happening.
Aunt Winnie’s eyes danced behind her glasses. “So Linda’s out of commission, huh?” She tapped her lips with her fingertips.
Aunt Jancie joined them in the kitchen. The beginnings of a smile hovered over the woman’s mouth.
“And am I correct in assuming that Al and Missy won’t be attending?” Winnie gave up hiding the bottom half of her face and revealed a full-fledged grin.
Penn closed her eyes, concentrating on relaxing her jaw. “You are. And when I think of a valid excuse, I won’t be either.”
Jancie gathered Penn into a one-armed hug and jiggled her shoulders. “You can’t renege on your commitment. You can’t leave John to do the work of the whole committee. That poor boy is new in town. He’d probably never find the concert way over there in Allison Park.”
“I’m sure he has a GPS, or he can Google it on his phone.”
“If he does or if he doesn’t, that’s not the way Martians treat newcomers.”
“Jancie, we’ve got to start filling the picnic basket.” Winnie moved toward the pantry, rubbing her hands together and muttering. “I’m so glad I bought those lemons. Lemonade!” She disappeared for a second and brought out a closed-top basket. “I found it. Hurray.”
“Great.” Jancie squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll need to get down the old blanket, too. Or do you want to take the folding chairs? Or you could take both, you know.”
“OK, you two. Calm down. I know what you’re thinking, but this will not be a date. If it happens.” Penn’s cellphone summoned her, and she stepped out of Jancie’s half embrace. Grabbing her purse, she found her cellphone in the side pocket on the third ring. “It’s John.”
“Well, answer it.” Winnie fluttered her free hand toward the phone. “Answer before he hangs up.” Jancie and Winnie crowded around her to listen. Wide eyes and grins punctuated their faces as they bounced on their toes.
John’s voice came out of the speaker holes clear and strong. “Hi, Penn. I guess you’ve heard the news about Linda.”
“Hmm mmm.” She rubbed her lapis ring and shrugged against the Penn sandwich her aunts were concocting.
“So I thought I could pick you up. We could ride over together if you don’t mind riding on my motorcycle.”
Not in this lifetime.
“Or we could just meet over there.” A lame suggestion, but she had to try.
Both gray heads shook and mouthed, “No.”
Penn closed her eyes to ignore their bunched eyebrows and whispered suggestions.
“Well, yeah, but Linda said parking’d be a premium. We’d save a space if we drove together and wouldn’t have to try and find each other in the crowd.”
She gripped the phone and pressed her hand against her galloping heart. Of course, he was right. “Hmm mmm. Sure. That makes sense, but I don’t mind driving. I know the way. Where do you live?”
“I’ll drive to your place. See you soon.”
~*~
The afternoon flew by in a whirlwind of making sandwiches, bagging carrot sticks, filling up plastic containers with watermelon and cantaloupe balls, and baking another batch of celebration cookies. No amount of protest could sway the aunts’ determination to make the picnic basket a deposit of deliciousness.
Penn inspected the contents of the basket. “Only two of us are going, remember? You have enough food in here for another whole committee. Or two.”
“But you need something salty. We don’t have any chips. You should stop on the way and buy a bag.” Winnie wiped her hands on a dish towel.
“We’ll be fine—”
The doorbell rang.
Penn’s stomach flipped.
The aunts squealed and scooted into the family room. In the foyer, Penn dug in her heels and jerked her head toward the kitchen. “Give me some space, please.”
She cracked the door to find John, clad in cargo shorts and a sage green golf
shirt.
Nice. Her stomach fluttered and kicked up her pulse.
“Hello, John!” The aunts huddled behind Penn.
John craned his neck around her to the meddlesome aunts breathing down her neck. But when he smiled such a beautiful and sincere smile at her aunts, Penn’s heart contracted almost to the point of pain. She vacillated between wanting to hug him for being sweet to them and wanting to push him back down the front steps to protect them from the inevitable disappointment.
Because if history was any indicator, disappointment waited for them if her aunts pinned any kind of romantic hopes for her and this guy. A snippet of senior prom night flashed in her mind. That night with Ronald Schmitz—whose nerdy looks equaled her own nerdy feelings and attitudes and gestures—had ended with a bloodied nose—his; and sore feet—hers, from walking a half mile home in high heels. No awkward escort to the front door. No request for a second date.
That night had been Penn’s only foray into the dating world. She’d avoided it by keeping a low profile in college. Now, living with her aunts, teaching at the high school, and volunteering with the youth group didn’t exactly put her in the line of many eligible bachelors.
“Come in, John. Penny, dear, let the man in. We’ve got a lovely basket for you.” Jancie led the group back into the kitchen.
John glanced at Penn, a question in his eyes. “It smells fantastic in here.”
Penn found her tongue. “Cookies.”
“Celebration cookies.” Winnie winked. “We baked them this afternoon so that you’d have a treat at the concert. You’ll have a great picnic, if I do say so myself.”
John lifted the basket from the wooden table. “Wow. This weighs a ton. I guess you’re coming, too, right? To help eat all this food?”
Penn rubbed her arms.
John didn’t want this sham of a committee activity to be a date either.
“Thanks so much for asking, dear, but my back’s acting up again.” Jancie massaged the small of her back.
“Oh, no. No, we can’t go. I need to put my feet up. I don’t want my ankles to swell.” Winnie wiggled her right foot.
Interesting. Penn drummed her fingers against her elbow. First time she’d heard of these ailments. No matter. She and John could concentrate on evaluating the band and not worry about swatting down matchmaking attempts by her lovable but misguided aunts.
“You two better get going to claim a good spot.” Jancie shooed them back to the front door. “Here’s the blanket, Penn. Don’t forget to grab the chairs from the porch.”
“I’ll get them. You better go rest and feel better.” Penn arched a brow. “We’ll be back in a little while.”
“Do not hurry one bit. Enjoy the evening. Enjoy, Penny.” Winnie reached up with a peck for her cheek and a quick whisper. “He’s a nice one, honey.”
Penn’s withering glower died on the back of Winnie’s head as she retreated up the steps to the porch.
John had maneuvered the basket onto the backseat and placed the camp chairs on the floor.
Penn tossed the blanket into the back and slid into the driver’s seat.
John climbed in beside her. “So, you got your door fixed.” He flashed a tentative smile.
Not a trace of mockery or even teasing in his eyes. Still, the memory of crawling over the stick shift the first time she’d met him humiliated her all over again. She gritted her molars. “The door isn’t broken. Gretchen—she—it just sticks sometimes. There’s no rhyme or reason.” Penn shifted into reverse and scanned the rear window, avoiding his eyes. “I’ve had it checked out. Tony, the mechanic in town, has greased and jiggled and poked—everything’s good. She’s just...”
“Temperamental?”
“Exactly.”
~*~
Why did he have to bring up the sticky door?
Way to bring up a fun memory for her, Don Juan. His mouth curved at the picture of her crawling through the passenger side door. He turned toward his window to hide the smile from her.
So cute.
So prickly, too.
He’d have to try harder to make friends with her. In town for a couple of months, he’d met a handful of people. Penn won the prize as most intriguing person so far with her mixture of quirkiness and prickliness, not to mention those big, brown eyes.
Glancing at her profile, he slid his hands over his shorts.
For sure, he’d try harder.
4
“If you take the basket, I can carry the chairs and blanket.” Penn put the key in her shorts pocket and pushed up her seat to grab the blanket.
“Wow. This looks great. And it’s free?” John held the basket in front of him and surveyed the growing crowd.
Penn nodded.
He loved it. Who wouldn’t?
She and her aunts came most Sunday evenings during her childhood summers to enjoy the free concerts. Part of her loved listening to the music under the stars, raiding the picnic basket filled with goodies. The other part of her dreaded Sundays at the park when jealousy gnawed at the tender places in her chest.
She’d watch the other children walking by her holding hands with a parent or running through the crowd with siblings, and the longing for an intact family pervaded her chest and choked her breathing.
As an adult, she recognized the sacrifice her aunts had made for her, grateful beyond words for the women who loved her unconditionally. As a child, she wanted to be like everyone else.
“Yeah. It’s cool.” She hitched the straps for the camp chairs over her shoulder. “We should pick a spot to sit, I guess.”
“Linda suggested sitting near one of the sculptures. Al can find us while he’s patrolling the crowd. She mentioned Missy might be around, too. I think her text said Large Escargot?” John scrunched his nose.
Penn forgot herself for a moment and chuckled. She pointed toward a large, steel sculpture on the left side of the sitting area in front of the stage. “There. It’s a David Hayes piece, if you’re interested in modern art.”
“Interested, maybe. Knowledgeable, definitely not.” He switched the basket to his left hand, gesturing toward the sculpture with the other. “After you.”
~*~
A lime green Frisbee sailed into the middle of the blanket. John grabbed it and swished it back to a waiting little boy who looked to be about six years old.
Penn admired the expert flick of his wrist. “You’ve done that before.”
“I played Ultimate Frisbee in college. It’s like riding a bike.” He stretched out on his side beside the basket and raised the lid. “I can’t believe all this food. It looks great.”
She reclined in one of the chairs, her bare feet resting near her abandoned sandals on the blanket. “It tastes even better, but don’t take my word for it. Have a sandwich. My aunts are great cooks.”
“I’m going for the cookies first. Haven’t had a homemade one in a while.” He popped opened the bag’s plastic zipper. “What did they call them—party cookies?”
“Celebration cookies.”
“What are they celebrating? It’s not your birthday, is it?”
Penn winced. If John knew the aunts were celebrating the fact that she was out on their idea of a date at Hartwood Acres—with him, he’d probably laugh his head off. “No. It’s not my birthday. They’re just celebrating Hartwood Acres.” She crossed her fingers in a childlike fashion to negate the half lie that slid so quickly out of her mouth. “We used to come here every summer.”
He swallowed and grabbed another cookie. “These are fantastic. Do you think they’d give me the recipe?”
“Sure.” She dug her toes into the nubby softness of the blanket.
A microphone squealed as a band member did a sound check.
“You like to cook?”
“Not sure exactly. I’m learning. Been told I make a mean omelet, though.”
Who told him that? An old girlfriend, perhaps? Against all good reason that thought rankled. She ignored it. “Good job.” Sh
e smiled. “Scrambling eggs is a good start.”
“You haven’t ever made one if you think an omelet is scrambling eggs.” He brushed the crumbs off his hands and rolled onto his stomach. Leaning on his elbows, he focused on her. “I’ll make one for you sometime, and you can judge. You’ll find out—I speak truth and only truth.”
Penn lost herself in his black eyes for a few seconds. A dreamy, make-believe scenario floated through her mind—ringing his doorbell, being invited into his apartment, offering her cheek for a welcoming kiss...
She gripped the canvas arms and squared her shoulders to derail those thoughts. She refused to be sucked into the aunts’ line of thinking that wouldn’t lead anywhere but frustration and disappointment.
Remember Ronald Schmitz? The memory of his bloodied nose, administered by her own right hook after trying to take advantage of her on prom night, was a strong deterrent to runaway silly thoughts.
Not wanting her to miss any high school rite of passage, her poor aunts had engineered a pity date with Ronald, the son of a neighbor of a friend. After that night, she could check Senior Prom and Date Rape Near Miss off her bucket list.
John’s invitation, probably him just being polite, still quickened her heartbeat and diminished the breath in her lungs. She shook her head to empty it of any residual daydreams of spending time with John besides, of course, in connection with the committee.
“You don’t like omelets?” He rested his chin in his palm.
“I do, but—”
“Great, then. We need to—”
“Hi, Penny. Sweet! You’re right where Linda said you’d be—at the big snail.” Missy Parker, fresh from a graduation trip to Cancun and with a deep tan to prove it, stood with her cellphone in one hand and her other on her hip. “Perfect timing.” She nodded to the stage.
Band members found their places with their instruments. Excited applause and cheers greeted the musicians who waved back at the audience.
Perfect timing, indeed.
Mars with Venus Rising Page 3