“I’d show you, but she’d be in traffic in no time. She’s gotten rather fast.”
Pen balls her hands together, and I can tell she wants to hold our daughter. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about this, but now that we’re here and I see her, it would be a shame to not let her.
“Do you want to?” I stretch my arms forward, and Pen nods emphatically. We step onto the patio, and she pulls out a chair at the table and situates herself. I hand Holly to her.
“Hi, do you remember me?” Pen turns our daughter so she can kick at her legs, holding her under her arms while she dances.
“Oh, my goodness!” Pen makes exaggerated faces, lifting Holly then bringing her feet back down to her lap.
“Is she making you fly?” I say.
“She’s flying,” Pen says, lifting her again as she makes a whooshing sound. Holly giggles, and Pen brings her in to hug her close.
“She’s a healthy baby. She has an entire team of uncles, and I think maybe half of Sweetwater,” I joke. Though it might not be far from the truth.
“Thank you for this.” Pen’s gaze rests on mine, and for the first time since I’ve known her, she seems content.
“Of course,” I say.
We spend a few minutes catching up. Pen tells me about her work in rehab, and how she’s moving to Austin, Texas to stay with an aunt. It sounds like a good thing. It’s a relative who once tried to get custody of her when things got bad with her parents, so maybe now that Pen is an adult, she’ll get a second chance at having a loving family experience. I fill her in on all of the little moments she’s missed with Holly, including the time I met Lindsey in the diaper aisle, clueless. I bring up Lindsey a lot, and eventually she calls me on it.
“She’s a good friend,” I say, not wanting to label us without consulting Lindsey first. We’re more than friends, but what that looks like exactly has yet to be fully discussed. Things are more than physical now. Well beyond that. They’re real. For both of us, I think.
As our conversation dies, Pen shifts in her seat, motioning for me to take Holly back. Our daughter fell asleep amid our conversation. She’s had a busy morning so far, so I don’t blame her.
Once Holly is nestled in my arms, Pen unhooks her purse from the back of the parlor chair she’s sitting in and pulls out an envelope. She lays it in front of me, pressing her palm on top for a beat before pulling away.
“It’s everything she might—or you might—need to know, from my side of the family. Medical stuff, a little genealogy, my blood type, addresses and phone numbers for the good people I know in case you ever need to reach someone in an emergency. My number is in there too, but I don’t expect phone calls or even letters, really. I’d love a photo from time to time, but again . . . I don’t expect it.”
“I’ll send some,” I commit.
Her soft smile tells me she’s grateful.
“I wrote a letter in there, too, and that’s for you to decide. If you think one day she needs to read something from me, give it to her. And you can read it if you’d like. It’s nothing angry, nothing sad, but it’s the truth. I want her to know that I love her more than anything on this earth, and that’s why I left her with her daddy. I knew . . . Iknowher life is going to be amazing with you. Because of you. I sense the love in your heart. And she deserves all of it.”
I suck in my lips and nod, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes.
“I’ll save it for her. I don’t need to read it.”
Pen reaches for my hand, and I place my palm against hers. We squeeze each other and lock eyes, sealing this agreement in our own way. I trust Pen. And maybe that’s strange, given how Holly turned up at my door, but I believe every word she’s said. She’s never lied about anything to me, and I would know—I was raised by liars. I can smell them.
Pen stands, so I take the envelope and carry Holly to Pen’s car. I hug her goodbye, and she kisses Holly’s head before getting in. I see her start to cry as she backs out of her spot, and I could too right now if I let myself.
My world works in balance, though. All good things seem to come with rotten ones on the other side, and when I turn to head toward my vehicle, I catch sight of the same man who has been harassing me for a month as he races by in a beat-up Chevy pickup.
My chest inflates with a deep breath, and my veins fill with a little extra blood as I hold Holly close and take long strides to my SUV. I lock her into her seat, double-checking the clasp as I scan the street through the window. Clearly, that guy has no interest inme. It’s something about this car.
I close the door and inspect the outside of my vehicle, walking the perimeter and kicking at the tires. I get down on my hands and knees and shine the flashlight from my phone up into the underbelly, but nothing seems out of sorts. I feel it in my bones, though. Something is off. It’s not this SUV he wants. It’s not sentimental. There’s somethinginthis thing, something I don’t want to show up when I trade it in for a fresh ride.
Knowing I won’t be able to rest until I figure this mystery out, I go see Roddy, the only person I can think of who might be able to help me take this machine apart. I call him on my way, and he’s waiting in his driveway when I pull up, his German Shepherd ready to work.
“She’s really trained for this, huh?” I ask as I pull Holly out and move away from my car. His dog’s nose is working overtime, nostrils flaring and teeth showing.
“Got Izzy from a state trooper. She’s technically retired, but you can’t unteach a dog tricks, it turns out.” Roddy unclasps the hook on her leash, and Izzy races to the driver’s side, barking and growling at the inside panel of my door.
“Pretty sure we need to start there,” Roddy says, holding up his drill.
He whistles, calling Izzy off, then gives her a Milk-Bone to reward her for her work. He feels around the door panel, finding a few screws holding the inside paneling in place, but it doesn’t take long for him to pop it open, and when he does, more cash than I have seen in a lifetime spills onto the concrete.
