“A fine name indeed.” Jancie moved farther down the table. “We have a few Johns in our family, too.”
“I think she’s made my point.” John’s voice, right beside her ear, surprised her.
Her hand fluttered into an earring stand. She grabbed for the earrings. “Miss Grace, that’s me.”
“No. Miss Penn. That’s you.” His fingers brushed hers as he helped right the stand, raising the hair on her arm.
Winnie selected a cardboard square. “Penny, look at these earrings.” Lapis beads adorned silver drop earrings. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
“That’s the same kind of stone as your ring. What’s that stone?” John grabbed her hand. “Can I see your ring?”
Penn rubbed the stone once more to still the shivers zinging through her body. His warm fingers stole her breath. She pushed the stone to the top of her finger with her thumb.
He leaned closer and lifted her hand toward him. For a swift second, Penn expected him to kiss her hand, but, no. He was interested only in the ring.
She shook off an oppressive feeling that resembled disappointment and focused on her ring. She loved it, an oval lapis stone cradled in elaborate antiqued gold scroll work that extended down the sides of the ring. Beautiful in its own right, the ring meant more to her than just an interesting piece of jewelry.
“It’s stunning. Is it an antique?” John met her gaze but kept her hand in his.
His eyes, so close to hers, mesmerized her. She couldn’t think of a word to say.
“Another great story. Tell him, Penny.” Winnie nudged Penn’s arm. “Tell him about your ring.”
Penn cleared her throat. “It’s...” She hesitated. Did she want to tell this man, this pilot, anything else about herself? About her life? About her family?
He ran his thumb over her knuckles and smiled a soft smile that made her feel safe and special. Her heart shifted. “It was my mother’s.” She licked her lips. “Her engagement ring.”
“And—” Jancie prompted her.
“My parents found it in an antique shop on one of their dates.”
“And we wrapped it up for Penn’s seventeenth birthday—”
“With the key to the car, don’t forget.”
“Along with the key to Gretchen, her father’s Volkswagen, and she’s worn the ring ever since.”
John squeezed her hand. “Cool story. Thanks for telling me.” He let go.
She stuffed her hand into her pocket and moved forward to the next booth, grateful for the chance to restore her breathing to normal.
~*~
A soft breeze blew in from the Monongahela River and ruffled John’s long bangs into his eyes. He fingered them away from his forehead.
Penn fisted her hand before she could brush them back herself. Not a productive way to think. She had to stop those kind of ideas. They wouldn’t lead anywhere but trouble.
They rested, eating sandwiches on a thin blanket John had pulled out of his backpack. Jancie and Winnie, chattering about Ralph Stanley, had dropped onto the blanket without one complaint of hurting backs or aching legs or swollen ankles or any other kind of body ailment. Did the remedy come from anticipation of live bluegrass or their crush on John?
Winnie swallowed a bite of her Reuben sandwich. “I haven’t had one of these in years. I’d forgotten how good they are.”
John turned his mammoth Italian sandwich to the left and to the right. “Mine smells great, but do I know how to eat this thing?”
“Mash it with both hands. Don’t worry if some of the fries fall out. It’s part of the experience.” Jancie tugged a fry from between her turkey and cheese.
He clamped the ciabatta roll and pressed. “I’ve seen cole slaw on sandwiches before but never fries.” He glanced at Penn. “You seem pretty happy with yourself. A piece of pita bread is a lot easier to handle than this.” He held up his sandwich.
“OK, here goes.” He stretched his mouth as wide as he could and chomped down on the crusty bread. Three fries dropped onto the napkin in his lap. Sandwich sauce dripped down his chin.
Penn laughed and handed him another napkin. She swirled a corner of the pita bread through a dollop of hummus. “I’ve had those before. I didn’t want to miss my hummus and grape leaves.”
Two musicians stepped on stage to inspect the stringed instruments and do a sound check. Whoops and whistles skittered across the audience. Jancie and Winnie joined in with loud claps.
“It won’t be long now.” Winnie sipped her lemonade.
“You know, this isn’t bad. I don’t think I would’ve come up with this concoction, but I think I like it. And you said fries on top is the only way the sandwiches come?” John asked.
Jancie adjusted her straw. “I believe so. I heard a rumor that someone asked a waitress once for the fries on the side, and she said something like, ‘here, the fries come on the sandwich. Take it or leave it.’“
Winnie frowned. “Surely that’s not true. It’s not very nice.”
“I said it was a rumor. Who knows?” Jancie folded the wax paper around her sandwich and set it on the blanket. “I need a break. I’m stuffed.”
John studied Penn’s plastic carton of food. “How’re your grape leaves?”
“Delicious. As usual.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never had them.”
“Seriously?” This tidbit didn’t ring with Penn’s idea of John.
“That surprises you?”
“Of course.”
He cocked his head. “Why ‘of course?’“
“I thought you liked trying new things. You seem to be up for anything.” She shrugged. “It’s hard to believe you’ve never tried them.”
“It’s kinda hard to believe you have.”
She drew her legs up and hugged her knees. “Why do you say that?”
He opened his mouth but hesitated.
“What?”
He licked his lips. “I didn’t think you liked new things.”
Ouch.
“I like new things.” The words sounded a little suspect to her own ears.
Is that the way he saw her? A boring, stuck-in-a-rut person who ate vanilla ice cream and sat in a corner while the world turned in front of her? Not a fascinating picture. And for the record, she ate moose tracks ice cream this afternoon, not vanilla.
“Hey,” He smiled at her over his sandwich. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. Just an observation.”
“It’s not a new thing or an old thing. I just enjoy Greek food.” A lump rose in her throat.
“We all do. We go to the Greek Food Festival down in Oakland every year. Fun and scrumptious.” Winnie patted Penn’s knee. “That baklava this year was to die for.”
Penn peered at the bowl of grape leaves and swallowed against the tightness threatening to cut off her speech. “Do you want to try one, John?”
He raised his sandwich. “I’m still working on this monstrosity. You enjoy them.”
Penn offered again. “I’m getting full. Try one. See if you like it.”
He wrinkled his nose again. “I’m good. But thanks.”
She nudged her aunt. “Aunt Jancie, I think he’s scared to try a grape leaf.”
“Go ahead, John.” Jancie jiggled the ice in her cup. “They’re good. The grape leaves have an interesting, tangy flavor. Not bad, just interesting. You’ll like the mint and lemon mixed in with the lamb.”
“It’s got lamb in it?” He cringed with an exaggerated shudder. “You’re eating Bambi?”
“Bambi was a deer, John,” Winnie whispered.
“Right. You’re eating Lamb Chop?” Mischief played around his mouth.
“Seriously? Are you a girl or what?” Penn extracted a plastic fork from a wrapper and speared a grape leaf. She waved it in front of him. “Try one. I dare you.”
He blinked at her and grinned. “OK. But not a whole one. Cut it in half, please. No, in fourths.”
Penn sliced off the end of a grape leaf with a plastic knif
e. Grains of rice fell from the rolled delicacy. She handed the fork to John.
“My hands are full.” He opened his mouth, waiting for her to feed him the food. His eyes challenged her.
Her mouth fell open. He’d set her up for this deed. Part of her wanted to meet the challenge. Part of her wanted to drop the fork and run.
She bent toward him, holding the fork just in front of his mouth. He leaned forward and closed his mouth around it. She allowed eye contact for a second and dropped her gaze to his lips as she pulled the fork free. He leaned back.
“Mmm” He chewed the morsel and swallowed. “You’re right. Very interesting.” He spoke to Jancie but focused on Penn.
She dipped her head away from his scrutiny and stabbed the remaining grape leaf with her fork. Her racing heartbeat supplanted her appetite.
~*~
Winnie and Jancie sang a Ralph Stanley song complete with harmony as they mounted the front porch steps.
Winnie jingled the keys out of her waist pack and unlocked the front door. She turned to John at the bottom of the steps. “We had such a fun time today.”
“Yes, we did. Thank you for thinking of two old ladies.” Jancie transferred her sole purchase, a watercolor of the old Three Rivers Stadium, under her left arm and patted John’s shoulder with her right hand.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” John rested a foot on the bottom step.
The aunts giggled, and Penn expected a blush colored their cheeks.
“Come in and have some cookies with us.” Winnie covered a yawn with the back of her hand.
“As much as I love your cooking, I’ll pass this time. We had a big afternoon.” He stuck his hand in his back pocket. “How about a rain check?”
Jancie rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “A good idea. We have to sing tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep.” She glanced at Penn, sand then back at John. “But, you know, that swing over there is a good way to wind down after a long afternoon. You might want to try it.”
Penn blushed. She opened her mouth to protest, but John spoke first.
“Fantastic idea. Penn, let’s wind down for a few minutes.” He ascended the remaining two steps with one long stride and sauntered to the swing at the end of the porch, not giving her a chance to decline.
Winnie elbowed her side and gestured toward the swing. “We’ll say ‘good night’ then and thank you again, John.”
Penn’s foot begged to stomp at the maneuvering of her aunts.
Why wouldn’t they stop matchmaking?
Her traitor heart pumped hard at the prospect of alone time with John. It refused to listen to her brain repeating, “Do not like this man. Do not like this man.”
Too late. She liked him a lot.
He grinned from the swing.
“Good night, sweetie.” Jancie kissed her cheek and nudged her toward John.
She moved along the porch, dragging her feet, steeling her heart.
13
Penn joined John, and he pushed against the slatted porch floor with his toe, creating a gentle swaying movement. His presence, broad shoulders and all, filled the swing. His upper arm brushed against hers.
She slid closer to the side of the swing to give him room. To stop the tingling where his arm touched hers.
He reached over her head, extended his arm behind her. “There. That’s better.”
Not better for her racing heart. Not better for her struggling lungs. What could they talk about? She needed a good, safe, quick topic. Think. Eureka. Jancie and Winnie. “You made them really happy today. Thanks.”
“They’re sweet ladies. Being with all of you made me happy, too.” He leaned back and closed his eyes.
So. They come in a package. No news there.
Hearing it from his own mouth should have relieved her. Instead, that familiar feeling of disappointment knotted her chest. The sweet fragrance of a potted gardenia tickled her senses but failed to work its usual calming magic. She rubbed her ring. God, help me out here, please. I need peace. I need wisdom. I need a road map.
~*~
John drummed his fingers on the back of the swing. He wanted to rest his hand on Penn’s shoulder, but he sensed he had to move slowly with her.
Fiddling with her ring again, she was as skittish as the colts his little brother trained. No problem. She intrigued him enough to take his time.
“Yeah. I’m glad ya’ll could go downtown today.” He stretched his legs out and crossed his weaker foot over his stronger one.
“Ya’ll?” She raised her eyebrows.
“A perfectly good word. Especially where I’m from.”
“Where’s that?”
“Virginia. Born and raised.”
“You don’t have much of an accent.”
“My mother taught English for years. Made us enunciate with perfection but couldn’t extricate ‘ya’ll’ from my vocabulary.”
“Jancie and Winnie think it’s infinitely superior to the ‘yinz’ you hear around here.”
“Oh, yeah?” He shrugged. “Different words. Pretty much same definition. It’s probably what you get used to.” Good job. Silly conversation. He needed another one to keep her relaxed. “They were good sports with the Jeep today. I worried they might balk at our ride.”
A laugh bubbled across her lips, kindled a warmth in the pit of his stomach.
“Are you kidding? They loved it. Didn’t you hear them giggling in the back seat? They like to play the old card with all their aches and pains when it serves them well, but they’re fairly agile. They usually do whatever they want. In fact,” She angled toward him. “They walked in the Apple 5k last year.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way. Took them an hour to walk and the afternoon to recover, but they did it.” Her raised chin revealed sparkling, black-as-ink eyes. Her smile tipped the corners of those eyes. Nice. How could he keep that smile coming?
“Wow. Good for them.” He bent to swat at a mosquito feasting on a tender spot below his ankle. “As much as you act as if they exasperate you sometimes, you really do love them.” He settled back in the swing, closer to her this time by millimeters. His arm rested partially on the back of the swing, partially across her shoulders. Very nice.
She frowned. “Of course I do.”
“Because they raised you.”
“Because they sacrificed for me. They uprooted their whole lives for me. They sacrificed then and still do, just like any—” She pressed her lips together and studied the chipped paint on the arm of the swing.
He waited for her to finish. When she remained silent, he answered for her. “Just like any parent?”
“Just like anyone who loves someone else.”
“They for sure love you.”
“I know.” She chipped off a paint flake. “Anyway, you made their week with that red Jeep.”
He plucked at his shorts and let her change the subject. He’d ask more questions another time. “I’ll let David know. He’ll be glad they enjoyed it. I’m sure he got a kick out of my motorcycle.” He scratched his ankle with his opposite foot. “I’m sorry about my comment tonight.”
“What comment?” Her words were soft, but a wariness cloaked the inquiry.
“The one about you not liking new things.”
A cool front invaded the porch, and the weather had nothing to do with the temperature.
She dipped her head, too late to hide her lips that straightened into a tight line. “No problem.”
“I’m serious. I didn’t mean it as a critique.” How could he resurrect that enchanting smile? “It was really just an observation.”
“An observation?” Her gaze darted to his face and back to the wooden arm. “You’ve been studying me?”
“Not like a science project. I just notice things.”
Penn narrowed her eyes. “Like what?”
Should he continue this conversation? Would it pull her back into herself? She was just beginning to relax.
Working on a
nother paint chip, she waited.
“Like you rub your ring when you’re nervous or upset.”
Her right hand immediately flexed and flattened against her thigh.
“You don’t have to stop. It’s not a bad thing.”
His hand covered hers. She didn’t rebuff him.
“I’ve just seen you do it sometimes...like at the meetings when Clara is badgering you about the budget or when your aunts are exasperating you.”
She shifted, fiddling with the hem of her shorts with her free hand.
“That’s not a bad thing.”
She continued staring in the direction of the yellow rose bushes flanking the front steps.
John released her hand and touched her chin, rotating her face toward him. The street lamp didn’t illuminate the expression on her countenance, but he had no trouble reading the teeth biting her bottom lip. His thumb prickled, aching to rub against her mouth and banish the tension from her jaw. He probably shouldn’t. She’d probably bolt upstairs or slap him or...curiosity strong armed him and pushed his thumb across her lips.
She stiffened. Not promising. But her gaze zeroed in on his lips. Ahh. A positive sign. Maybe she was interested despite her initial reaction.
He corralled a smile ready to spread across his face. He’d like to explore that idea, but tonight wasn’t the night. “It’s something I noticed. Like you noticing my limp. No big deal.” He cupped her cheek, tucked a springy curl behind her ear.
The swing crackled when he leaned against it. Reaching up, he grabbed the chain and motioned to the bay window on the other side of the front door. “This is a great porch. So peaceful.”
A floral fragrance reminded him of his grandmother’s farm. “I’d love to add a wraparound like this one to my house, but I don’t have the funds or the know-how. Yet.”
He hoped she’d light into him again about refurbishing his house with no real experience, but she didn’t take the bait. She’d closed into herself again. He sighed and checked the time.
The swing bounced behind him when he rose. “It’s getting close to midnight, and I’ve fed the mosquitoes long enough.” He lifted his foot behind him and rubbed his ankle. “I better shove off. Don’t want to be your excuse for sleeping late tomorrow morning.”
Mars with Venus Rising Page 11