Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
brOOKS
I don’t know if I’ll regret this. But I read over Pen’s email a dozen times, and there’s something about it that feels important. Not for me, but for our daughter.
Holly is mine. She’s mine alone. I don’t think Pen will fight to get her back, or to have shared custody. I don’t believe she would have written the words she did if that were the case. She knows her flaws, and she knows some of them may be lifelong battles—ones she could lose.
That’s how Pen and I connected. I was in a low place of self-pity, and we’d talked at the pub from time to time, so she was the willing ear the night I bottomed out.
I let out all of my anger over my parents, over the death of my mother, and the fucking vehicle I was living in because of them.
Pen understood because she’d been raised in a similar household.
Only rather than getting away, she fell in deep.
The night we hooked up, she was several months into a recovery.
She said she was feeling proud of who she was becoming.
But she was lonely. So was I. And we gave each other comfort.
Holly was made from something peaceful, something beautiful amid chaos and heartbreak.
I like to think she is everything that is and was good between Pen and me.
I didn’t want to force Pen to meet me at Earl’s, what with it being a bar and all, and her an alcoholic.
There isn’t much in this town that’s open early besides the coffee shop outside city hall, though, so that’s what I went with.
Now that I’m waiting for her here with Holly, I’m questioning whether Earl’s might have been better.
It looks a bit like a set-up or a sting, with cop cars parked outside police headquarters, and town employees grabbing their morning coffee inside. At least the patio’s nice.
I stand when I see her familiar green Subaru pull into one of the street parking spots a few spaces away.
I clutch Holly against my chest, spinning her around so her legs can kick the air rather than me.
She’s been busy lately, and she’s starting to master crawling.
If I put her down, there’s no telling how far she’ll escape to.
I hold up a hand to wave hello. Pen is sitting in her car, engine off, as though mustering the courage to confront me. Us. I have no animosity, so I wave her to join me and smile, hoping it makes her feel safe.
She finally gets out, pulling a patchwork purse over her shoulder. She’s wearing a long denim dress, and her golden hair falls in braids on either side of her face. She looks healthy.
“Hi,” I say first.
Her eyes are misty as she smiles with closed lips.
“Hi,” she says, her raspy voice a little clearer than I remember it. She’s doing well; I can tell.
“She says hi, too,” I say, lifting Holly’s hand and forcing it to wave. She coos and kicks her feet forward before laughing.
Pen’s hand covers her mouth and her eyes tear up.
“My God! She’s so big,” she whispers behind her palm.
“She’s crawling,” I tell her.
She drops her hands to show her mouth agape, but her smile creeps back in.
“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 . . . I know her 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 in me. 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 something in this 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.
“Fuuuuck,” I say, stepping in closer.
Izzy rushes over, sniffing wildly at the bundles of hundred-dollar bills. Roddy looks up at me as he nudges one of them with the tip of his drill.
“Pretty sure these things are coated in narcotics. Don’t touch a thing.”
My stomach bubbles with acid, and I think I’m going to be sick.
“Take her for a minute,” I say, handing my daughter to my teammate as soon as he stands. I rush to the gravel along the street and hurl my morning coffee into some weeds.