Penelope (2 page)

More than just her stomach had changed though. A week ago, the entire town changed in fifteen seconds when a tornado ripped through the sky. There had only been a few injuries and no one had died—thank God!

Vivian’s home had been totaled and the front window of the century-old house on Main and Pine had blown in. Penelope’s car had also been totaled, but she thought she’d faired pretty well in that deal. Her beat up old car, which didn’t always run well, had been replaced by her late husband’s vintage Mustang.

Penelope had never been one for flashy, vintage cars, but she couldn’t help herself—she loved this one. It sat against the curb within view. Oh, she might look sexy in it now, from the neck up. But no one would ever give her a second look when they saw a baby seat in the back in a few months.

Sam Jackson, Adam’s lawyer, her boss, and now Amelia’s fiancé, pulled tree branches around the side of the house and stacked them near the porch.

“I have the misting fan set up in the kitchen. Maybe you should go inside,” he called to her.

“Too much paint.”

He nodded as he took his cellphone out of his pocket. He looked at it, smiled, and walked toward her giving the front window a glance first. “Why don’t you go in, get yourself a cold bottle of water, and walk upstairs.”

Penelope frowned. She knew it was much hotter upstairs.

Sam climbed the steps of the porch and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. Amelia is up there. She just texted me. She has something to show you.”

Penelope planted her feet on the floor, took Sam’s hand, and stood with an
umph.

“You start up,” he said placing his hand on her back and walking her toward the door. “I’ll get you a bottle of water and meet you up there.”

Penelope shifted him a glance and walked inside the house.

The heat was nearly unbearable, but she walked toward the stairs and started up them.

Sam had redone every tread and in time, when she wasn’t around, they would stain them and the rest of the floors in the century-old house which they were turning into a daycare center.

Adam’s father had donated the house to them. It was a kind gesture, she thought as she neared the top step. He’d been gracious when they’d needed it.

Amelia had come up with the great idea that they take what Adam had and turn it into a business to take care of his children. Amelia hadn’t asked for anything in return. But when pushed, she’d mentioned she’d like a gym in the basement.

So far she hadn’t stumbled across the secret project Penelope and Vivian had been working on. She seemed to be preoccupied with what she was calling her office upstairs.

Penelope hadn’t been upstairs in weeks. It wasn’t worth the climb. And now that she was at the top of the stairs and the air was thick and horribly hot, she knew she’d been right to stay downstairs.

Sam was right behind her with a cold bottle of water. He handed it to her.

“C’mon, go in,” he said.

“She’s been behind those doors for a week. I don’t want to be the one who goes in unannounced.”

“You’re chicken.”

“Yeah. You go first. She loves you.”

Sam scowled and stepped forward. “Yeah, and I’m the one she punched in the gut when I startled her too. I’m walking with heavy footsteps.”

He twisted the knob of one of the closed bedroom doors and pushed it open. Sticking his head around the corner, he pushed it open just a bit more.

“She’s afraid to come in. You’re not going to throw anything are you?”

Penelope heard Amelia grunt and then the door swung open hard. “Get in here.”

Penelope walked through the thick air toward the room and gasped when she walked in.

Amelia, Vivian, and Vivian’s daughters were standing in the room with enormous grins on their faces. “Well, what do you think?”

Penelope looked around at the transformed area. They had taken the two bedrooms, which shared a Jack and Jill bathroom, and completely renovated them.

The room she stood in was painted a very soothing shade of pale green. There was a wrought iron bed with a lacy white spread. Over the bed, was a painting that she knew Vivian had found in the basement. An antique dresser and mirror sat against the wall and they’d also added a beautiful armoire.

“This is magnificent,” she said with her breath wheezing out. “This is what you’ve been working on?”

“Yes. You needed a place to stay,” Vivian said. “Amelia did almost all of it.”

“For me?”

“You and the baby. This is your home now—when the fumes are all gone.”

She felt the tears sting, but she tried to hold them back.

“I did that.” Emma, Vivian’s four year old daughter said as she pointed to the rocking chair. “The Teddy bear. I made it at Build-a-Bear.”

Penelope covered her mouth and tears quickly rolled down her cheeks.

“You’re such a girl,” Amelia teased as she put her arm around Penelope’s shoulders. “C’mon, there’s more. Try not to cry too much or you won’t be able to see anything.”

She walked her to the bathroom that joined the two rooms. It was painted a soft brown and all the fixtures had been replaced with modern replicas of older ones.

“This is gorgeous. I can’t believe I didn’t know you were doing this.”

“That would have ruined the surprise. Okay, now you can cry your eyes out,” Amelia said as she opened the door that led into the next bedroom.”

When Penelope saw, it she did cry harder. The pastel yellow room with handmade curtains depicting tumbling teddy bears hung from the window. Matching bumpers adorned a crib against the wall. There was a matching rocking chair in this room with a teddy bear on the seat.

Ava, Vivian’s two-year-old, tugged on Penelope’s shirt. “I made that.”

Penelope batted her eyes and ran her hand over Ava’s braids and smiled. Never in her life could she have expected such love. And to think, these women and children had been jaded by Adam’s lies too. But they were there for her and her baby. They embraced her. They loved her.

“I can’t…I don’t…Oh…” she sobbed.

Vivian moved to Penelope and wrapped her arms around her. “Quit crying. You’re going to make me cry.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Penelope said.

“Sure you do,” Amelia added.

Penelope looked up to see her standing with her arms crossed over her chest and Sam next to her with his arm around her shoulders. They made a beautiful picture, she thought. Amelia was very lucky to have fallen in love with him.

“You’ve all been so nice to me…”

“And we’re going to keep being nice.” Amelia walked toward her and whispered, “Adam brought us together. We are all family now.” She took Penelope’s hands in hers. “This is the least he could do to take care of you and your baby.”

Again, Amelia was being sweet and that nearly made Penelope want to laugh. But she’d learned this side of Amelia was as genuine as the side that liked to kick men’s butts.

As Ava and Emma showed Penelope all the parts to
their baby’s
room, the doorbell rang.

They all exchanged glances and Vivian shook her head. “I’ll get it. It’s probably those boobs putting in the window.”

Penelope watched her walk out of the room and then, hand in hand, Sam and Amelia walked out too. She looked down at the sisters of her baby and smiled. She’d be okay without Adam there or any other man for that matter. She and her baby were loved. That’s all that mattered.

Brock Romero figured he was in the right place. The Mustang parked at the street was the same one he’d seen a picture of. If he remembered correctly, this was Adam Monroe’s grandmother’s house. He’d seen a picture of it too.

It had been awkward calling Adam’s parents looking for Adam’s wife. Mrs. Monroe, Adam’s mother was hysterical, but luckily his father took the phone from him and gave him this address.

The entire town must be doing spring cleaning. There were utility trucks everywhere. Trees were being cut down, yards redone, and lots of work on roofs and windows, he thought as the men on the porch cursed at the glass they were working with.

The front door was open and paint fumes filled his nose. Adam’s wife must be redoing the house from top to bottom, he thought.

A woman bounded down the stairs, but she didn’t look like the picture he’d seen. Her hair was dark and her eyes matched. She had a scowl on her face when she looked at him standing there in his fatigues, right off the airplane.

“What can I do for you, soldier? Are you lost?”

Her voice matched the look on her face. If this was Adam’s wife then everything he’d heard about her must be wrong.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Monroe. Adam’s wife.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “In this house you’ll have to be more specific,” she said through gritted teeth.

Brock moistened his lips. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Um…” This wasn’t good. Maybe this was the woman he’d talked to on the phone. No, didn’t Adam’s dad say they’d moved? Or maybe this was his real mother and the other a step-mother? No, she wasn’t old enough to be his mother. Well, maybe.

“I don’t have all day. What do you want?” the woman asked. Brock swallowed hard.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m looking for a Penelope Monroe. Adam Monroe’s wife.”

The woman clucked her tongue and nodded. “What do you want with her?”

“Nothing, ma’am. I mean, I was sent here.”

“By the Army?”

“Oh, no. By Sergeant Monroe, ma’am.”

The woman stepped toward him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sergeant Monroe is dead.”

The heat was so heavy on him now. His fatigues were insulating him and he could feel the sweat roll down the back of his neck.

He’d been in combat. He’d been shot. And yet, this woman scared the hell out of him.

“Yes, ma’am. I know he died. I held him when he did, ma’am.”

Her expression changed. It didn’t go soft. It didn’t become more angry—it just faded.

Her face went pale and she dropped her arms as two more people walked down the steps and toward the door.

Brock looked at them and then back at the woman in the doorway. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

The man who had walked down the steps hurried to them. “Vivian?” He took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “You’re pale.”

She darted her eyes toward Brock and then back to the man. “I need to sit down. I need some water. I need to sit down.”

The man wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her away from the door as the other woman who had come down the stairs moved toward him.

“Who are you?”

She was more direct. She stood with her feet spread, her hands behind her back, and her gaze directly focused on his.

“Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Brock Romero. U.S. Army.”

The stone stare on him made him want to snap to attention. This woman screamed military.

“What is your business here?”

“Ma’am, I’m looking for Mrs. Monroe.”

She coughed out a laugh. “Be more specific.”

What was it about this house? He thought saying Mrs. Monroe was specific enough.

“Penelope Monroe,” he said hoping someone would let him see her. He’d traveled across the damn world to find this woman and now he was stuck in the heat and not getting anywhere.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest just as the other woman had done. The noise on the porch had ceased and the two men who had been working on an enormous window were watching him plead for Mrs. Monroe.

“Lieutenant, why are you looking for her?”

“I was asked to.”

“Who sent you?’

“Sergeant Monroe, ma’am.”

This woman didn’t go pale when he said his name. Instead her eyes grew a darker shade of brown and narrowed on him.

“He’s dead.”

Brock sucked in the thick air. “Yes, ma’am, I know. I held him when he died.”

Her arms dropped just as the other woman’s had, but she remained stationed in the doorway. “Adam sent you to find Penelope?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“When did he do that?’

Brock shifted uncomfortably. The sweat trickled down the back of his shirt and he realized that once he’d hit the soil in Oklahoma, he was a civilian again. His days in active duty were over. If he needed to wipe the sweat from his brow he could damn well do it. So he did.

“Ma’am, Sergeant Monroe died in my arms. In his final moments he asked me to find his wife and…” He stopped. His information was for Mrs. Monroe. There was no need to break confidentiality and tell this woman what Sergeant Monroe had asked him to do.

She leaned her head toward him as if she were waiting for him to finish.

“Ma’am, do you know where I can find Penelope Monroe?”

“I’m right here.” An angelic voice spoke from behind the woman blocking the door way.

A moment later he saw the woman’s face from behind the guard. This was the woman he’d seen in pictures. This was the woman he’d been sent for. This was the woman who he, himself, had dreamed of for months.