Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Penny wouldn’t say she was nervous about what Pyro wanted to ask her, but she was extremely curious. He seemed uneasy, but she couldn’t think of anything she’d said or done that would make him feel that way.
She and Bowie had found the library during one of their trips around the ship, and it was a great way to pass some time.
Bowie loved being read to, and Penny always felt closest to her child when the girl was snuggled in her lap with her head on her shoulder as she listened to a story.
They’d moved on from picture books to chapter books, and Bowie soaked in every word.
She’d also noticed the small private rooms—which had glass windows, allowing the occupants to be seen but not heard—though she’d had no reason to use them. There was no one for her to contact. Besides that, they were full when she and Bowie had been there.
To her surprise, there was an open room this time, and Pyro immediately put his name on a signup sheet to use it. Users were only allowed twenty minutes in the room, to be fair to everyone who wanted to have some privacy.
There was a small table with a computer, as well as two easy chairs.
When Pyro shut the door behind them, the silence was a nice change from the constant hum of voices and the ship’s engines.
Penny immediately thought of Bowie, and how much she’d probably appreciate the quiet of the room, given her hearing was so sensitive because of her disability.
She sat in one of the chairs, and Pyro settled into the other beside her.
“I feel as if I need to apologize for something I said earlier.”
Penny racked her brain, trying to think of what he might be talking about, but came up empty. Fortunately, he kept talking.
“I thought you were being flip when you said you were good. I couldn’t understand how someone who’d been through all the things you had could possibly be good. I didn’t mean to push.”
Penny wrinkled her nose. “I think I’m the one who should say sorry. You were simply trying to ask about my welfare, and I kind of unloaded on you.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I was being judgmental, and I should’ve taken you at your word. But you said some things then, and more recently, that make me think we’ve got more in common than simply being in Gabon at the same time.”
Penny tilted her head in confusion. That she and this amazing pilot might have things in common seemed almost ridiculous.
He was an esteemed Night Stalker with a close-knit group of friends.
His clothes weren’t falling apart from age, he was obviously well-fed, and, based solely on what he’d bought for her and Bowie, he definitely had fewer money concerns.
“Believe it or not, I’ve been where you are, except I didn’t have a mom who gave a shit, like you so obviously do about Bowie.”
Penny stared at him for a beat. What did that mean?
He didn’t make her guess.
“I was in the foster system from around the age of three until I aged out at eighteen. I was in a total of twenty-two homes in those fifteen years. Some were good, some were bad, and others were downright awful. I had some foster parents who were in it simply for the cash, and as a result, they spent as little money on me as they could, including not feeding me. A couple of them making me rely on just free school meals for food. I’ve been hungry, Penny.
Once, I rationed a ramen noodle packet over a weekend, eating the noodles dry just to have something in my belly until I could get breakfast at school again on Monday morning.
“I was picked on, made fun of, told I was stupid, and ignored by teachers. I rarely had new clothes, moved them from house to house in a garbage bag, and I had no friends because of how often I had to switch schools. I started working at a restaurant—in the kitchen, where no one could see how young I was—when I was fourteen.”
“Pyro,” Penny breathed, feeling horrible for the man sitting next to her…and how quickly she’d made assumptions about their common struggles. She had a hard time wrapping her mind around the life he was describing when compared to the person who flew helicopters for a living.
“But like I said, I also had some good foster homes. Ones where I could eat as much as I wanted, where I got my own room, clean clothes, and felt like a true member of the family.”
“Why did they give you up?” she asked, then felt embarrassed for asking such a personal question. But Pyro didn’t seem offended or put off.
“Various reasons. None having to do with me, not that it made me feel better to have to pack my stuff and get shuffled to another house. One time the father got a job out of state, and another time, the mother was killed in a car accident, and the dad was overwhelmed with his biological kids and suddenly becoming a single father.”
“I’m sorry. But you’ve done…you’re amazing, Pyro. You’re a Night Stalker. I might not know much about the military, but even I’ve heard how incredible you and your friends are. How you’re the best of the best.”
“Thanks. It took a lot of hard work, perseverance, and suffering along the way.”
“I bet.”
“My point of telling you all this is because…I get where you’re at, Penny. I see your struggle, but I’m also in awe of what an amazing parent you are. Bowie wants for nothing.”
Penny snorted. “Except clean clothes, a permanent roof over her head, enough to eat, and a formal education.”
“You might not have had a lot to eat, but you were able to give her enough to keep her from going hungry. And you may have lived in a hut, but you did have a roof over your heads. Your daughter has what’s most important—a mother who gives a shit.
Who will bend over backward to make sure she comes first, to teach her to be polite and kind, to recognize right from wrong.
Bowie’s amazing, Penny, and I’m in awe of you. ”
Penny swallowed hard. “I was a foster too,” she blurted.
Pyro didn’t look shocked in the least. “I suspected.”
She nodded. Kids like them tended to be able to spot others who’d been in their situation almost instinctively. It was no wonder she felt such a deep connection with this man.
“What did you do in Gabon? How did you end up on the other end of the world from the US?”
Glad he was changing the subject—because Penny did not want to rehash her childhood, even with someone who could more than understand—she gladly told him her story.
“I met my husband, John, when I was working at a small clinic in Philadelphia. I’m not a nurse or anything, don’t have a college education. But I had my own place and was scraping by.
“John was volunteering for his company. Was there because he had to be, not because he cared about the people who were at the clinic. But we clicked. He swept me off my feet. I was young and hadn’t really been in a serious relationship before…
and I thought all the presents he gave me, the restaurants he took me to, and the way he brought me to his work events meant he loved me.
“He asked me to marry him, I said yes, then he said he was being moved to a branch of his company that operated in Gabon. I had to look on a map to know where the country was. I wasn’t thrilled to move to Africa, but I convinced myself it would be a fun adventure.
And it was…at first. We got married at the courthouse and flew to Gabon the following week.
“Things were all right at the beginning of our marriage. John wasn’t very loving, but I convinced myself it was because we were both acclimating to living overseas.
It took me a few years to get pregnant, and when it finally happened, I was thrilled.
I thought it would change our relationship for the better.
Bring us closer together. But my husband wasn’t as happy as I was to be a parent.
“He was furious that she was blind. Blamed me, since apparently her eyes didn’t form correctly in my womb.
He also didn’t like all the attention she got from me, at his expense.
He suddenly had no patience for anything.
If the apartment wasn’t spick-and-span when he got home, he flew into a rage.
If his dinner wasn’t ready, he screamed.
When Bowie cried, he told me to ‘shut her up or else.’
“As she got older, his temper only got worse. I was working part time at a clinic in Libreville that reminded me a lot of the one I’d left behind in Philadelphia.
I was educating women on prenatal health and helping new mothers with their babies once they were born.
I could bring Bowie with me, which was good, because John didn’t want to pay for someone to watch her, even though he had plenty of money. ”
Penny paused and took a deep breath. Those years had been difficult…
but not as hard as the ones after his death.
It wasn’t as if she’d wanted to remain with an abusive spouse, and she wouldn’t have traded the newfound peace in her and Bowie’s small home for anything…
but things hadn’t gotten better financially after he was killed.
“I’m sorry,” Pyro said softly, reaching for her hand. Penny gripped it tightly, pleased when he didn’t let go.
She nodded. “After he was killed, Bowie and I were on our own. His salary stopped almost immediately, and the life insurance policy he had with his company went to his mother, per his directive, not me. So overnight, I was completely on my own. Except this time, I had Bowie to worry about.”
“What an asshole,” Pyro muttered.
He had no idea.
“Anyway, I couldn’t afford our apartment on my part-time wages.
Thankfully, I got referred to another clinic outside Libreville, in a small community.
I worked with mothers-to-be and helped the women in the village with issues relating to their health, and sometimes helped look after children when their mothers were sick. ”
“I’m going to push my luck and probably overstep again, but I can’t not ask…you said something earlier about paying off your husband’s debts. What’s that about?”