“Aren’t you going to say, ‘hello?’“ Abby swiveled toward John and opened her mouth, but Penn grabbed her hand.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Just...he’ll probably see us in a minute.” Penn’s thumb found her ring.
Abby lowered her eyebrows but acquiesced and studied her mug.
John ordered and moved to the end of the counter and into Penn’s peripheral vision. He surveyed the room and jolted when his gaze found their table. He worked his jaw.
Hoping for nonchalance, she glanced in his direction and waved.
He approached their table, handsome in his faded cobalt golf shirt.
“Good morning.”
“Hello, John. You remember Abby?”
“Sure. Nice to see you again.” He nodded to Abby then swung his gaze back to Penn. “How ya’ doin’?”
“Fine. Thanks. You?” She gripped the coffee mug with both hands.
“Good. Good” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Abby’s eyes swung from Penn to John.
“Well, I—”
The barista called out an order for a regular coffee.
“My order’s up. I better get it. Good to see you both.” And he was gone.
Abby arched an eyebrow at Penn, but she waited until John exited the cafe before speaking.
“What in the world was all that about? Can you spell awkward?”
Penn sipped her lukewarm drink. “What?”
“That wasn’t the same Penn and John I witnessed at the parade a few weeks ago. What’s up?”
“A lot can happen in a few weeks.” With her fingertip, she wiped away the smudge of watermelon-colored lipstick from the mug, transferred it to her napkin.
“What do you mean? He still likes you, Penn. I can see it all over his face.” Abby slid her forearms across the table.
Penn traced the rim of her mug.
“You like him, too. I know it. Did you have a misunderstanding?”
Penn snorted. “No. No misunderstanding. Everything’s perfectly clear.”
“Speak clearly to me then. What are you saying?”
“He’s a pilot, Abby. A pi-lot.” She said the word slowly to emphasize her point. To convey the implications behind the word.
Abby sat back.
“That happened a long time ago.”
Penn straightened her spine. “Are you saying I should be over my parents’ death? That I can just go willy-nilly along with my life like—”
“Of course not. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Abby pressed her lips together. “Penn, you had a terrible tragedy. I know...I was there when you got the call.” She grabbed Penn’s hands, wouldn’t let go when Penn strained against her. “This tragedy doesn’t have to define your entire life. That’s all I’m saying.”
Penn narrowed her eyes. “Don’t analyze me. I’m not a case in one of your textbooks.” She yanked her hands at the same time Abby let go. A spoon flew off the table.
Heads whipped toward them from every direction. A tow-headed little boy who looked to be about four-years-old skipped to their table, picked up the spoon for them, and sprinted back to his mom.
Abby mouthed, “thank you,” to the mom since the little boy’s face disappeared between the folds of his mother’s skirt.
Penn trembled at the edge of her chair clutching the strap of her purse. “I’ve got to—”
“Don’t leave yet, Penny. Please. I didn’t mean to make you mad. Let’s talk about something else.”
Penn trained her eyes on the table. “I’m fine. I just have to get back to studying.”
“I promise. No more talk about John or anything. You choose the topic. Just stay a little bit longer.”
She pressed the familiar scrollwork on the side of her ring. “I’m not sure—”
“We’ve got the awkward first meeting and the first lunch out of the way. We’ve set up the parameters of what we can and can’t talk about—”
“You’re talking like a counselor again.”
“That’s what I am.”
She pushed back her chair. “I don’t need a counselor. I have one. Thank you.”
Abby caught her wrist. “I don’t want to be your counselor. I want to be your friend.”
Penn’s heart constricted. “Why?”
“Why? Because I love you. I always have. I’ve missed you for almost twenty years. I was hoping that now as adults—”
“That I’d be over my past and ready for sleep-overs again?”
“No. Good grief. You’re a tough one, Penny.” She sighed. “I was hoping that as adults we could forge an adult relationship. That we could go shopping together, commiserate about jobs together, dish about boyfriends, you know. Regular friend stuff.”
Regular friend stuff.
What exactly was regular friend stuff? Whatever it was, it sounded good. Her heart twisted at the idea of a real friend. She’d had a few friends in high school and college but none like Abby had been to her the first few years of her life.
Tears tickled the back of her eyes.
“I’m not that great a shopper.”
Abby barked a laugh. “Sweet. Then I can teach you.” She bit her lip. “That is, if you want me to.”
Penn twisted the purse strap.
A new door, an important one waited for her to open. Was she ready? She wanted to be. She prayed to be. Another broken heart piece shifted, touching a longing she’d buried a long time ago. “Sounds good.”
22
“Wait. Wait. Wait.” Jancie’s voice halted Penn on the first stair step.
“Aunt Jancie.” Penn pushed the whine out of her own voice, dialed up a warning instead.
Winnie joined the conversation. “Now, Penny. We’ve been good. We haven’t asked you anything about Abby, but you’ve seen her twice. How’s it going?”
“Come in here, and let’s chat.”
Penn squeezed the railing. “I really have to—”
“Study—we know. Five minutes won’t make or break you.” Jancie rapped the table. “Come here.”
Jancie’s command contained an added dimension. Something beyond normal curiosity. Her interest piqued, she entered the kitchen and found both aunts at the table, the portable phone between them.
“Sit down and chat with us for a few minutes. Are you hungry?”
“No.” She glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. Ten thirty. Something was up. They never ate between breakfast and lunch.
“So tell us about Abby. How’s she doing?”
“She’s fine. We talked.”
“That’s good. I hope she’ll come by here soon.”
Penn divided her gaze back and forth between her aunts. “What’s up with you two?”
Raised eyebrows. Shrugging shoulders. “What do you mean?”‘
Feigned innocence.
Penn crossed her arms. “You’re sitting at the table in the middle of the morning, asking me if I’m hungry—in the middle of the morning. What’s going on?”
The aunts exchanged glances. Jancie took the lead. “We were planning to tell you. We wanted to hear about your morning first.”
Winnie folded her hands. “We got a phone call from home. Your granddad has been experiencing some...health issues.”
Jancie shared the facts. “He’s had chest pains and shortness of breath for a while. He’s going in for some testing.”
Winnie supplied the emotion. “Heart disease is a problem for our family, you know. Both our parents died from heart attacks.”
The family stories resurfaced in her brain. Her great-grandfather dropped to the ground while walking in his backyard after breakfast one June morning. Her great-grandmother died in her sleep after struggling for years with heart issues.
Winnie pleated the edge of a place mat. “Penn, we want to go down and check on Graham. Spend some time with him.”
She calculated how many days she had left to study. “When do you want us to leave?”
“Not ‘us,’ honey.
Winnie and I can go. You need to study, and the festival is coming up. We’re waiting to hear back from him about the date of the tests and what happens next.”
Jancie stroked the bottom of her neck. “The doctor could treat with medicine, with a stent, or with open heart surgery, I suppose. We haven’t decided when we’ll go yet.”
“But—”
“No, buts. We’ll go down for a few days. You won’t miss studying or the last minute work on Apple Fest.”
Winnie cleared her throat. “We’re just a little worried about one thing, however.”
“What’s that?” Besides their brother’s health.
“You’ve never stayed here by yourself before. We thought maybe if you and Abby are becoming friends again, she could come over and stay with you.”
“Aunt Winnie. I’m twenty-six-years old for Pete’s sake. I can stay by myself. Don’t worry about that.” Probably she could. “But I should go with you. That’s a long way to drive.”
“Eight hours divided by two isn’t too bad. We’ll leave early and take our time.” Jancie cupped Penn’s hand. “Maybe all of us can go back down over your fall break. He should be well in to recovery by then.”
Penn examined the hands covering her own, the prominent veins circling around the brown age spots dotted on top. She loved these hands, hands that petted her when she was upset, made cookies and cinnamon rolls, held her when she was scared.
A homesick feeling fluttered in her chest. She didn’t want them to go without her. She missed them already, didn’t want to be separated from them. What was wrong with her? Wasn’t that the plan she worked toward every day?
Study for the CPA exam. Take the CPA exam. Pass the CPA exam.
Get a fancy job in Pittsburgh. Move to a cool apartment on the North Side. Why did that plan seem unattractive today?
“Sweetie pie, don’t look so sad. We’re not leaving today. We just wanted you to know what was up so you wouldn’t feel blindsided when we start packing.”
“Maybe—depending on the schedule for his tests—I can go. I mean, the preliminary stuff for Apple Fest is already finished. I don’t absolutely have to be there—”
Jancie frowned. “Of course you have to help, Penny. You can’t leave your committee people in the lurch.”
“Yes, indeed-y. With Linda still hobbling around on that bum leg of hers, Clara will be relying on your help that day. Many hands make—”
“Light work.” Penn propped her cheek on her fist. “I know.”
~*~
Penn lay on her bed with her feet propped on top of her pillows and her head at the foot, a favorite position of hers ever since she read about Pippi Longstocking sleeping this way. Pippi, a favorite fictional character during her childhood, possessed a joy de vivre that Penn admired and envied when she was ten, and, if she were honest, envied now.
She worried a hangnail on her pinky finger. How could she consider letting the aunts drive all the way to North Carolina without her? Shouldn’t she be with her grandfather also?
Not that she’d ever felt close to him. She’d enjoyed visiting him, but he worked through most of the vacations she spent down South.
She didn’t absolutely have to be downtown during Apple Fest. By that point, every detail would be in place. Plenty of volunteers would oversee every aspect of the day. Still, she hated to let down Clara. The other side to the argument was avoiding John. She wouldn’t have to see him.
Like today.
A surprise.
An awkward surprise.
This morning he’d looked so handsome. Her breath caught thinking about him. His dimple still flashed when he smiled, but he’d seemed uncomfortable and sad and aloof.
She didn’t relish the idea of going through another uncomfortable scene. On Apple Festival day they’d have plenty of time to run into each other. Penn didn’t want to have to avoid him. She didn’t want awkwardness to sit between them like a third wheel every time they met each other. She wanted...what?
John. She wanted John, but she couldn’t have him. Not as long as he made a living as a pilot.
She remembered the conversation over coffee this morning. Abby acted as if she should be over the tragedy.
How did she put it? “Not be defined by it.”
Easy to tell someone that. Harder to live it.
Was she holding on to the tragedy? No. She was a hardworking, contributing-to-society adult. So what if she didn’t like roller coasters and bungee jumping. Plenty of people avoided those activities.
But what if the tragedy were holding on to her?
That sounded like a counselor thing to say.
But seriously. What if she was allowing that period in her life to define her identity? Label her. The orphan. The little girl who lived with her crazy aunts. And still does.
She’d been the one to don those labels so long ago.
Could she choose new ones now? Could she be the woman who tried new things, loved grape leaves...dated a pilot?
A shudder tripped up her spine. She exhaled a long breath to slow her accelerated heartbeat. She flipped over and raised onto her elbows. She had to think of something else. She grabbed her planner.
A week until her CPA exam. Two weeks until Apple day.
She’d be so happy when the exam was over. It’d been hanging over her for months now. Eighteen to be exact. She’d passed the first two parts to the exam a year and a half ago. Six months ago, she passed the third part but failed the fourth. Three months ago, she’d failed it again. If she didn’t pass the last part this time, she’d lose credit for the first two parts and have to retake those.
She massaged her temples in a vain effort to release the pressure working to suffocate her.
Don’t think about Apple Fest. Get through the exam.
After the exam, she’d have plenty of time to explain to Clara about missing the festival. She’d done her part beforehand. Someone else could man the entertainment fort during the actual event.
She had a good reason for not attending. Her grandfather’s health. She couldn’t help it if that reason also lent itself to steering clear of a handsome pilot who, no matter how many times she warned herself against him, still tugged at her heartstrings.
~*~
Jancie slapped her hands on her hips and stomped her lime-green tennis shoe. “You are not going to miss that exam. You’ve studied all summer long.”
Winnie waved her index finger from the couch. “You’ve paid for it, too. You won’t get those hard-earned dollars back, either.”
“We’re leaving in the morning after we see you off for the test. His surgery is first thing Monday morning. We’ll have plenty of time to get there and visit with him beforehand.”
“Fine. I’ll leave after the exam and meet you there.” Perfect idea.
“Do you remember how exhausted you are after those tests? No, ma’am, you have no business driving like that.”
Penn ground her molars. “Then I’ll drive down on Sunday.” She flopped beside Winnie and propped a foot on the coffee table.
“No, Miss Hardhead.” Jancie swiped her foot off the table. “You most likely wouldn’t get there in time to see him Sunday night. You need to stay here, recover from the test, and we’ll call you with updates.”
“And don’t forget. You’ve got responsibilities here. Like your students. Like last minute Apple Fest details. The doctors can handle their jobs without your presence, hon.”
Penn pouted. “You’re going.” Being thwarted by her aunts chaffed her.
“He’s our only brother. Of course we’re going to see him before he has open heart surgery.”
Winnie rubbed her forearm. “I can’t believe he has four blockages.”
“Five if you count the little one on the back side of his heart.” Jancie raised her palms. “What does that man do? Mainline fried chicken and gravy?”
“You know he walks three days a week. Like the doctor told you last summer. If you’ve got bad pipes, you’ve got pipes.�
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Jancie harrumphed. “Great bedside manner, that man.”
Penn scooted to the edge of the couch. “Since you two have it all worked out, I guess I’ll go—”
“Study. We know.”
~*~
Penn sank into a puddle of fried brains in her foyer Saturday afternoon. Thank goodness, Gretchen knew the way home from the testing center. Besides the all-encompassing fatigue eating away at her, however, she felt positive about her exam results.
She hated admitting it, but she was relieved she had nothing left to do today except crawl onto the couch. She could sleep there if the stairs seemed too daunting tonight. She hoisted herself onto the worn cushions and lay spread eagle waiting for sleep. Maybe when she woke up she could manage the remote and watch an infomercial, anything that didn’t require processing thoughts.
A trilling ring shot through her dream and jerked her upright on the couch. She seized the portable phone from the tray on the side table and mumbled a hello through a mouth dry as silica gel.
“Penny. We made it.” Winnie’s voice crackled in her ear.
“Where?”
Winnie chuckled. “In Oxford. At your grandfather’s house. Where did you think we’d be?”
“You drove the whole way?” Penn rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“Sure. It was a beautiful day for driving. We took turns. Two hours on. Break. Two hours off. Teamwork. Right, sister?”
“Let me talk now.” Penn heard Jancie in the background. “Penn, how was it? How do you feel?”
“I’m fine. Wiped out. I think I did pretty well. I can’t believe you drove the whole way.” Not exactly true. She’d had a feeling they might. Had hoped they wouldn’t.
“We had fun. We stopped at the cute little ice cream shop in Berkley Springs for a smoothie brunch. Then ate a late lunch in Fredericksburg. We stopped another time after we passed Richmond and then pushed through. Easy-peasy.”
Easy-peasy. Her aunts. Her heart flipped over with love for them. She missed them already.
They put her grandfather on the phone for a quick chat. Never one for small talk or big talk either, her grandfather seemed more reserved than usual tonight.
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