Penelope (11 page)

Her knees were weak, but she fought to stand.

Her hand lifted, as though of its own will, to touch the scar. “This is what happened when Adam saved you?” Her voice cracked when she’d said his name.

“Yeah. Couple more inches and…”

Quickly, she retracted her hand. It was too much to think about.

“You two need to get a room if you’re going to be kissing and undressing all the time,” Vivian’s voice rang through the room.

Anger snapped in Penelope and she spun toward her. “He was showing me where he was shot. Right above his heart. This is a man Adam saved before his life was ended. You could show him some respect and stop being so bitchy.”

The words flew from her mouth and just as quickly she wanted to retract them when she saw the look of shock on Vivian’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Penelope back pedaled. “I didn’t mean to…”

Vivian was moving in toward Brock. Her fingers too rose to the scar. “He led you through battle and you got shot.”

“He led us away from harm,” he reminded her.

“Not far away enough. He’s dead,” she reminded him.

It was the first time Penelope had seen some remorse in Vivian’s face.

Vivian removed her hand from Brock’s skin and looked up at him. “He was a brave man.”

“He was.”

“You’re not the only one he saved.”

“No, ma’am. He’s credited for saving a lot of people. He was a fine soldier.”

“That he was,” she said softly before turning toward Penelope. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so high strung.” Her eyes shifted back to Brock and then back to her. “He’s good people,” she said before she left the room.

Penelope felt her heart rate begin to slow as the anger slipped away. Brock quickly put back on his shirt.

“She’s not sure of me,” he said.

“She should be. You’re not causing us any harm,” Penelope argued.

“She doesn’t know that. Her argument is valid.”

Penelope looked up at him. “She told you what she thinks about you being here?”

He nodded and took the yellow chair he’d been working on and stacked it with the others he’d assembled. “I don’t blame her. It looks sketchy when you think about it.”

She moved toward him as he busied himself with cleaning up. Reaching out her hand she touched his arm. “For what it’s worth, I believe Adam sent you. I don’t think his mother had anything to do with it.”

He turned his head and smiled. “I appreciate that.”

“It was nice of you to come and help assemble. This is starting to look like the daycare we’d planned.”

“If I were a kid, I’d want to be here. My sister sent six boxes of books too.”

Penelope felt the tremble start in her jaw. “Why?”

“She’s a teacher, on sabbatical to raise her kids. They were in her garage and she thought you could put them to use.”

“She’s not going to teach again?”

“Someday,” he said with a shrug. “She’ll get more.”

The dam broke and tears began to spill. She hated the emotional roller coaster that came with pregnancy. One minute she was going to jump a man because he had a sexy smile and the next she was a blubbering idiot.

“That was very generous,” she sobbed.

He moved to her and pulled her into his arms. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. It just happens.”

His hand brushed over her hair. “Yeah, I remember my sister doing this too.”

The front door opened and closed and Penelope turned to see Sam staring at them. “Really, I’ll buy more candy if you want.”

That made her laugh. “I’m just emotional. Hormones.” She wiped her tears. “Look at all of this that Brock did today.”

Sam examined the room. “Thank God. I didn’t want to have to do all of this.”

“His sister sent six boxes of books too.”

“Very generous,” Sam said looking at Brock.

“I’ll finish the chairs today. Tomorrow I can finish the book selves.”

Sam nodded and turned to walk out of the room before turning back. “Will you be here this weekend? I certainly could use some help out back.”

Penelope waited for his answer.

“I only have enough to stay in the hotel for a few days. Of course I’d be happy to help.”

“You need a place then?” Sam asked and was answered with a shrug from Brock. “Let me make a few phone calls,” he said before he disappeared down the hall.

“I like him,” Brock said. “Amelia’s a lucky woman.”

“We all are.” Though who could have thought that was the true statement? Sam Jackson was the one, initially, to throw them together and that could have been as disastrous.

Penelope stepped back from him. “I’m going to go change.”

“Do you have dinner plans?” Brock asked.

Penelope shook her head. “No. We usually just throw something together while we work.”

“Can I take you to dinner?”

She clenched her hands and rested them on her stomach to keep them from trembling. “You want to go out?”

“Yeah.”

“How about I take you out for helping?” she offered.

“How about we do that some other time? I invited. I’ll take you.” He gave her a wink with one of those dark eyes. “I’ll finish up and wait for you.”

Right. That was her cue to go get ready, but she stood there frozen. That was until the urge to kiss him took over, so she did. And when she pulled back, those dark eyes were closed. That was called satisfaction.

Brock assembled another chair and cleaned up the boxes and wrappings he’d accumulated.

“Do you have anything pressing next week?” Sam was standing in the doorway when Brock looked up.

“I don’t have any plans yet. I seem to be unemployed and living at my parents’ house at this point.”

Sam laughed. “The guy who owns the townhouse Vivian is staying in also has a duplex just on the edge of town that is vacant. He said since I got him the settlement against the last tenant, he’d offer it to you for free for a few weeks.”

“Really? Someone did that for you?”

“Sure. It’s amazing what people will do for you
if
you win for them. And then sometimes when I don’t win, I remember why I have a concealed weapons permit.”

Brock chuckled. “I appreciate you doing that for me. And I’d be happy to help out. Maybe tomorrow I can get the rest of the shelves up.”

“That would be helpful. They’ll open for registration soon and we want the place in order. The only part that will still be ugly when they open is the kitchen. But that’ll be revamped by the first of the year. There is one more bedroom to fix up and the attic will serve as Amelia’s office.”

“What is her role here?”

“I guess administrative. Vivian has the early childhood education and Penelope, well she has the compassion.”

Yes, that was it exactly. She had compassion.

“This will be nice for them.”

“It will be. I’ll miss having Penelope at the office with me, but she needs to be with her baby and Vivian needs to be with the girls. Adam didn’t leave them anything. This alleviates them having to get jobs and pay for daycare themselves.”

Brock still couldn’t believe that Sergeant Monroe was the same man they talked about.

“Didn’t Sergeant Monroe receive death benefits? He was killed in combat.”

Sam nodded. “It helped with all of this. But he had changed his will before he deployed again. He left everything to Amelia.”

That wasn’t right. How could a man ignore his two children and the one on the way? Then again, how could a man marry more than one woman?

It was obvious that Sergeant Monroe had been a fine soldier, but a lousy husband. Maybe there was more to Sergeant Monroe sending him there. Perhaps he’d sent him on purpose to help take care of Penelope. Why else wouldn’t he have just let them send back his items? After all, he knew he was dying.

Brock thought about the times he’d talked with Sergeant Monroe about “back home.” He never had much to say, until Penelope came into the picture. From then on it was about the woman he loved. Her beautiful face. Her sweet voice. The baby. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned Vivian and the girls? How could a man just discredit them and forget them?

It was becoming clear, he thought. Brock Romero was a man who believed in fate. It was fate that he was the man holding Sergeant Monroe when he died. Though he could have asked for anyone, Sergeant Monroe bestowed his requests on Brock. Now he felt as though his mission in Parson’s Gulch, Oklahoma was to continue. He was meant to help the wives of Sergeant Monroe go on—especially Penelope.

“I hope it’s okay. I asked Penelope to dinner,” he said to Sam, perhaps out of context of their conversation, which was obvious by Sam’s change in facial expression.

“Of course. She’s allowed to go out to eat.” Sam laughed. “You certainly don’t need my permission.”

“I just didn’t want to take her away if you had things you were expecting her to do.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. “I’m sure Penelope would rather get out of here while we work. She can’t do much but sit and I know that gets to her. It would be nice if you’d take her out for the evening. And tomorrow, stop by my office and get the keys to the duplex. She can tell you how to get there.”

“Thank you, sir,” Brock said moving toward Sam with his hand extended.

Sam looked at his hand and then back up to him before shaking it. “You can call me Sam. It’s okay. And it’s nice to have you here. Thank you for all your help.”

As Sam walked out of the room he noticed Penelope descending the stairs. He’d expected her to only change out of her work clothes into something more comfortable, but she’d done much more.

Her hair was pulled back, giving him a perfect view of that slender, beautiful neck. Small pearls dangled from her ears and she wore a sundress, which fell over the rise in her stomach. He was sure she literally glowed. It was no wonder Sergeant Monroe had fallen in love with her. What man wouldn’t?

“I think you get more beautiful each time I see you,” he said and her cheeks colored pink.

“I feel like a house. I put this on because I’m so hot. I can’t get cool enough. And the only shoes that fit are these flip flops because my ankles are swollen.” She let out a sigh. “I’m disgusting.”

Brock shook his head. “Quite the opposite. You’re stunning.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you? How can you look at a pregnant woman as if she’s not disgusting?”

Brock moved to her and took her hands in his. “There is nothing disgusting about a pregnant woman. Nothing.” He bent down to brush a kiss on her lips, because he simply couldn’t handle not kissing her any longer.

Penelope pulled back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Brock said as he retracted. “I shouldn’t have done that. Let me get washed up and we can go.”

He moved past her, but stopped when she reached out her hand to him. “The only man who ever gave me attention like this was Adam and you can see where that got me.” She rubbed her stomach. “I can’t see why you’d want to kiss me.”

“Not all men are created equal, Penelope.” He turned away and walked to the bathroom to clean up.

As he washed his hands he looked in the mirror. There was a scar above his eyebrow he’d received when he was nine from a wayward hockey puck. Another scar on his chin from the cement rash after crashing on his bike. One of his eyes was rounder than the other. And he had that single hole still in his ear from when he was eleven and thought he needed to pierce it with a safety pin.

Weren’t they all scarred in some way? Penelope was just pregnant. She was carrying a baby. A baby who would never know his father—never have a chance to. He would be loved unconditionally by his mother—but who would love his mother? Who indeed—especially since she didn’t think she was worthy?

That needed to change. There was no way Brock could hide how he felt about her. His body went into overdrive every time she was near him. Perhaps that was just part of his mission. To make Penelope Monroe understand that she
was
worthy of a man’s appreciation—not just so she’d go to bed with him.

As he dried off his hands he thought about his own family. His parents had been married for nearly forty years. His brother and sister were both in very solid relationships and bringing new lives into the world. His mother loved to cook—and didn’t do it well, but his father still encouraged her. His father loved to garden—but couldn’t make anything grow—yet his mother also encouraged him.

Brock had failed one class in school his sophomore year of high school, but instead of grounding him, or taking away his new car, his mother sat with him every night at the table and helped him study until he could pass that class the second time around. Never once did she complain about it either.

Maybe, Penelope needed to meet his family. She needed to see what
his
normal was like. Perhaps she’d trust him just a little more. That was, if he could keep his hands off her.