Mars with Venus Rising

by Hope Toler Dougherty

  At her rounded mouth, his suggestive words dawned on him.

  “Wait. Hold up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

  Her fingers fluttered away his apology. “Don’t worry. I knew what you meant.”

  John winced. “Open mouth. Insert foot.” He caught her hand and squeezed it. “I really did have fun today, Penn. Thanks for showing me the festival.”

  “Anytime.”

  He smiled. “I think I’ll hold you to that.” He descended the stairs two at a time and jogged with his lopsided gait to the Jeep. As his hand reached for the silver door handle, he glanced back at the porch.

  She swayed in the swing, watching him.

  Yep. He’d take that as a positive sign, too. He waved and slipped into the driver’s seat. “I certainly will hold you to it, Penny.”

  ~*~

  Penn watched the taillights until the Jeep turned right at the corner of Stanton Street. The swing wobbled without John’s weight balancing the bench. She didn’t like her speeding pulse or the heat rushing around her heart that his touches produced. She especially didn’t like the lump in her throat his departure created. Her shoulders sagged against the swing, and she hugged herself.

  What if he turned around and drove back to her? What if he waved and walked up the steps and said, “Sorry, Penn. I forgot something.”

  She’d say, “What?”

  He’d say, “This.” And he’d pull her up from the swing, into his arms and lower his mouth and—

  Penn jerked out of the swing, leaving it bouncing and the extra chain at the top clanking in protest. Yanking the door open, she restrained herself from slamming it. She didn’t want to face the aunts right now. She turned the key and rested her forehead against the varnished oak.

  Why wasn’t locking her heart as easy as locking the front door?

  14

  A few days later, Penn strolled down town to take her place at the Apple Fest booth.

  The aunts had left before her to take three gift boxes full of celebration cookies to sell at the church’s booth.

  She headed for the flying saucer planted, for now, in the town square.

  Someone or really several someones, in keeping with tradition, would have to move it to another location in town on the eve of Apple Fest.

  She spotted Clara wrestling with a card table, and John appeared from behind the saucer to help.

  Penn’s heart sped up several beats.

  Dressed in black, must be time for his laundry.

  John’s presence surprised her. She hadn’t checked the volunteer sheet at the meeting, didn’t know who’d signed up to partner with her. Happy tingles zig-zagged through her insides at the prospect of spending her shift with him.

  “Good morning. How can I help?” Penn grabbed a folding chair and opened it beside the table. She glanced at John, the black t-shirt coordinating with his dark hair and deepening his eyes. Oh, he was cute.

  “Hey, Penn.” His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  “Penn, good you’re here.” Clara hauled a stack of fliers out of a monogrammed canvas tote bag. “These are for anyone interested in volunteering for us. They get a sheet, and we get their name and e-mail or cell number.” She tapped a yellow pad with a marker. “Don’t let them leave without that info. Got it?”

  “No problem.”

  “It looks like you and John have the first time slot. I’ll be back to help Missy at 9:30.” She wiped her forehead. “I need more coffee right now.”

  John waved at Clara. “Later.” He sank onto a second chair beside Penn. “She’s a good leader.”

  “Yeah. Better her than me.”

  He stretched his long legs in front of him. “So all we have to do is sit here and take names?”

  “Pretty much.” She stacked the fliers to look busy.

  “So tell me about this flying saucer.” He cocked his head to the silver disk behind him. “What’s the deal?”

  “Not much to tell. It’s been here for years. Somebody’s idea of the perfect landmark for a town called Mars. Only it’s a floating landmark.”

  “Floating?” He locked his hands behind his head.

  “You’ll see. A few days before Apple Fest, somebody comes by and moves it.”

  “Ah.” John nodded. “Kind of like stealing the opposing team’s mascot before a big game?”

  “Except it’s more a change of scenery than stealing.”

  Clara clipped back to the table, clutching a medium-sized cardboard cup of coffee. “How many volunteers so far?”

  Penn swept the page with her index finger to make sure she didn’t miss any names. “None. So far.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Clara turned the page toward her. “Not one? Penny, volunteers help make our festival a success. We need them. Are you calling people over to our table? Talk it up. We need some signatures.” She tapped her chin with her fingers. “I thought locating beside the saucer would be perfect.”

  “Clara, people aren’t thinking about apples today. They’re thinking about the parade.”

  “We’ve got to make them think of apples.” She glanced down the street. “I’ll be back.”

  “I’m sure.” Penn hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but John’s chuckle confirmed she had.

  He scanned the street. “I guess we can try.”

  She crossed her arms. “I’m not a salesperson. If people don’t want to do something, I don’t want to talk them into it.”

  “Even if it’s for a good cause? Even if it’s good for them?”

  Penn made a face and adjusted the already neat pile of papers.

  The next fifteen minutes yielded one volunteer.

  John had charmed a mother pushing a double stroller with two toddlers. He held his hand high for a celebratory slap. “I got one. Now it’s your turn.”

  Penn high-fived him. “She was easy. She just wants to get out of the house.”

  “John, some help, please.” Clara’s voice carried from down the street, but they didn’t see her in the crowd. A bunch of helium balloons bounced toward them.

  John grabbed the attached ribbons and took them from Clara.

  She pushed the hair back from her face. “Whew. They’re harder to handle than they look.” She dangled her arms beside her, flexed her fingers. “Let’s tie these to the table and chairs. Brings attention to our booth, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely.” Penn accepted a balloon John had freed from the knot holding the bunch and tied it to the back of her chair.

  “Hi, Penn.” She whirled at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in years.

  “Abby.” Her heart jolted so much she flattened her palm against her chest, ready to recite the Pledge of Allegiance except she couldn’t say a word.

  “It’s good to see you.” Abby smiled at her, a tentative, questioning smile. “How are you? It’s been a while.”

  “See. I told you she looks cute.” Missy looked cute as usual in gray shorts and a pink cami.

  Abby slid her wristlet from her shoulder, twisting the long strap around her hand. “I like your haircut.”

  Penn pushed curls from her temple. She’d kept her hair long until midway through college. In an effort to look older, she’d lopped off ten inches and donated the locks to a charity that made wigs for children undergoing chemotherapy. Without the weight pulling it straight, soft, loose curls had sprouted all over her head. “Thanks. You’re visiting for the Fourth?”

  “No. I’m back at home, starting my internship through Pitt in a few weeks.”

  Missy grabbed John’s arm. “John, this is my sister, Abby.”

  Squeals from across the street signaled the aunts’ approach. “Abby, you’re a sight for sore eyes. How are you, dear?”

  Both aunts squished Abby between them and settled in for a mini reunion.

  Several minutes later, with all the news from the Parkers and a promise for Penn and Abby to have lunch sometime soon, the aunts, Penn, and John found themselves at the church’s booth
and nibbled still-warm cinnamon rolls.

  “See. I told you we had the perfect spot to watch the parade.” Winnie licked white icing off her finger.

  John swallowed. “Glad you invited me to tag along.”

  Penn gave thanks not only for the sweet treats but also for the reprieve from Abby and Missy. Her heart needed time to recover from the shock of seeing her childhood friend.

  From the time they were old enough for play dates, the two had been inseparable until tragedy destroyed her family and severed the friendship.

  Although she knew it was a wrong idea, Penn linked the plane crash with the Parkers and kept her distance, especially from Abby.

  A trumpet cadence snapped her back to the future. She startled, knocking into John’s chest. “Sorry. I wasn’t ready for that sound.” His arms rushed to settle her, speeding her heart again.

  John let her go. “No need to apologize. Caught me off guard, too.”

  “Here it comes. The ROTC color guard is always first in line. Look. The youth group’s float is next.” Winnie waved a miniature flag at the float. “Hello, Trudy.” The teenager lobbed a handful of candy toward them.

  A piece of peppermint pinged Penn on the shin. “Owww. Toss the candy. Don’t throw it.” She bent to protect her smarting leg and another piece bounced off her head. “Cut it out!”

  “Sorry. Sorry. We love you, Miss Davenport. We’ll see you at the game.” The girls shouted their apology, but their attention had moved to the next group of unsuspecting targets.

  John laughed. “They really do love you, you know.”

  “I’m feeling their love all right.” She rubbed the top of her head.

  “Sounds like you’re going to the game.” He unwrapped a piece of chocolate caramel candy.

  “Yeah. We’ll go to the softball game then eat at the cookout at church.” She glanced at him. “Are you going?”

  “Andy mentioned it the other day. Sounds like a fun time.”

  Jancie wheedled into the conversation. “The church softball game? What a good time we have. You have to come, John. Penn always—”

  “We always go. A lot of fun.” No need to give away all our secrets at once, Aunt Jancie. “Look. Here comes the band.”

  ~*~

  Penn stepped up to the plate and bent her knees, readying for the first pitch of the third inning. John hadn’t showed. Just as well. She had a feeling his being in the crowd would make her nervous.

  Stupid, but doing her normal thing of hitting the ball and running around the bases without worrying about what he thought relieved her.

  Deborah, the pitcher for Mt. Lebanon Faith Church, served an arced ball toward her and—bam. Sweet spot.

  She’d hit a single in the first inning, a double in the second. Now she got her homer. She knew it when the ball hit the bat. She jogged around the bases, listening to the aunts chant her name. Two paces from home plate, she rewarded them with a grin.

  John clapped along with them.

  Her tennis shoe caught the edge of the base and propelled her toward the catcher.

  The catcher, an English teacher she recognized from North Allegheny, broke her fall with her mitt, but the centrifugal force sent them both into a spin.

  Someone in the crowd cheered. “A homer and a dance for the price of one!”

  Penn gritted her teeth. How would she ever live this down? She thanked the catcher, curtsied to the bleachers, but refused to make eye contact with the aunts, and especially John. She’d pretend she hadn’t seen him.

  If he could distract her to the point of making a fool of herself during an easy jog home, no telling what would happen during a fly to right field. She needed to concentrate on the game, not on the handsome man sitting between her aunts.

  The concentrating helped her hit another double in the next inning and shag a pop up in the sixth, but the ladies from Mt. Lebanon prevailed, edging out Love Community by two runs.

  The aunts and John met her after the traditional “good game” line up on the middle of the field with their own pats of congratulations.

  Jancie hugged her. “Good game, sweetie. What a way to put the cherry on top of that homer, too.”

  “Thanks for the reminder. You know me, Miss Grace.” She stuck her glove under her arm.

  “Miss Softball, too.” John’s hand felt warm on her shoulder. “Who knew you could play like that?”

  “We did.” Winnie reached up and planted a kiss on her cheek. “We’ll have to show you all her trophies sometime.”

  Penn rolled her eyes. “No, we don’t.” She dusted off her shorts.

  John grinned. “I’d love to see them.”

  She removed her ball cap and shook out her curls. “I think it’s time for the hotdogs. Anybody hungry?”

  John accompanied them to the picnic tables near the pavilion and handed each one a paper plate.

  “This food is compliments of Mt. Lebanon. They lost last year, so they pay with the cookout.” Jancie surveyed the table clustered with dishes and bowls. “Take notes, girls, because supper’ll be on us next year.”

  Penn accepted a roll but declined a hotdog.

  John pointed to her plate. “Did you forget something?”

  “Penny doesn’t like hotdogs. She eats the bun with all the trimmings.” Winnie scooped potato salad onto her plate.

  He jerked his head back. “Seriously?”

  “True. I like all the other stuff.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just not the main ingredient.”

  “Cool. To each his own.” He stacked two on his plate.

  Winnie grabbed a plastic cup of lemonade. “I’ve spied a great place to sit for the fireworks. Follow me.” She headed toward her picnic site.

  “She knew where to stand for the parade. I’m a believer.” John waited for Penn to fall in behind the aunts.

  ~*~

  Winnie led them to a spot with camp chairs and a blanket spread between them. “See. Isn’t this nice? We set our place up before the game.”

  Jancie shook out her napkin. “Always thinking, sister. Great place to watch the fireworks. I’m glad you could join us, John. Sorry we have only the two chairs.”

  “We’re not too far from the food either. If you want more.” Winnie settled into the second chair.

  John tipped his plate revealing the food mounded on it. “I think this’ll do. Thanks for inviting me. David’s vacationing with his family this week.”

  Talk turned to the softball game, and Penn, sitting with her legs crossed on the blanket, endured some good natured teasing about tripping over home plate.

  Penn set her plate on the blanket. “My shoe caught the edge. I couldn’t help it.”

  Jancie swallowed the last bite of her hot dog. “At least you managed to touch the plate so the run counted.”

  Penn fiddled with her napkin. “Not that it mattered in the long run.”

  “Too bad you couldn’t have points for style. Because if that were the case...” John wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Thanks so much for your two cents.” Penn threw her balled up napkin toward him, but he swerved out of the way.

  “Ooh, looks like your aim could use some work.”

  She sucked in a breath and reared her hand to give him a friendly smack.

  His fingers closed over her wrist before she could blink.

  She tugged against his grip, but the clench remained firm. His strength surprised her, and showed on her face before she could hide it.

  A slow grin cut into his five o’clock shadow. “Years of riding a motorcycle.” He flexed his other hand. “And exercising with hand grips.”

  His hand, warm around her wrist, felt strong and solid, not confining or smothering. She liked his touch. She liked looking at his face. His dimples emphasized his grin. The scar above his cheek added interest, and her fingers itched to trace the mark. And his eyes...why had she never noticed how long his eye lashes were? She parted her lips.

  “Miss Davenport. Miss Davenport.” Grace and Trudy skipped
toward them breaking in on her thoughts. Good thing, too. What was she doing, thinking things like that?

  What was he thinking?

  “Oh, those silly girls.” Winnie flattened her mouth like she did when she was exasperated with Penn.

  Penn startled at her aunt’s reaction...and the fact that her aunts were seated with them. In that wacky few minutes when she’d taken leave of her senses, she’d forgotten they were there. She’d forgotten everything except John.

  “We’ve been looking for you.”

  “You found me.”

  “Good job today at the game. That home run was awesome!”

  “Thanks.”

  “And especially the little dance afterward.” The girls giggled. “We’ve never seen you do that before.”

  John chortled.

  She ignored him.

  He’d let go of her wrist when the girls called her name, and now he stacked the empty plates. The absence of his fingers left her feeling bereft. She massaged her wrist to lose that feeling. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to like him.

  John rose with the plates and left for the garbage cans.

  “And you won’t see it again either.”

  “Oh, we might. One of the boys took a video of it with his phone, I think.”

  “What?”

  “Enjoy the fireworks. Won’t be long.” And they were off.

  She didn’t have time to consider the consequences of her not-so-proud moment showing up on social media. The hairs on the back of her neck signaled John’s return from the garbage cans. She could worry about the video later. Now, she had other things to concentrate on. Like keeping her gaze turned toward the sky, waiting for the show. She didn’t want to get lost in his eyes again. She didn’t want to wonder about his thoughts or stare at his dimple.

  He stretched out on the blanket, his hands bent behind his head. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  “Especially for fireworks.” Penn’s excitement colored her words. She checked her watch. “It’s almost time.”

  Jancie chuckled, settling back in her chair. “A few more minutes, sweetie. Cool your jets.”