5 - Jacob
Jacob
Shave and a haircut, two bits.
I pause drying a pot at the knock on my front door and look over my shoulder.
Ten months of peace and quiet, then three unexpected visits in one night. Which god did I piss off?
If my car wasn’t outside and the lights weren’t on, I could’ve pretended I wasn’t home. I still want to do it. The stove’s clock says it’s my bedtime at fifteen past ten. A late night knock on the door hardly ever brings good news.
Could be Ruth needing more help with Wayne.
I set down the pot and towel and start toward the door. Use the camera. I pause and take out my phone. Reporters haven’t hounded me in years, but I’ll never forget my experience with those vultures during the lowest point of my life.
The app loads the screens for all four exterior cameras. I squeeze my phone. There’s a cop standing on the porch and Penelope is beside him.
My heart beats faster. It’s happening again. She’s trying to set me up because she didn’t get what she wanted from me. Just like her mother did.
She could try but she’ll fail.
The cameras will show she never came near the house even though she tried. It’ll be quicker to prove this time that her accusations against me are all lies.
I stride to the door, interrupting another knock when I open it. The cop lowers his hand as the wind shoves against the door and sweeps snow inside. Penelope squeezes herself in a tight hug, an anxious expression on her face.
“Good night, sir. I’m Officer Keith Brent. What’s your name?”
I ignore his question, scowling at the both of them.
“Why are you here?”
Officer Brent glances at Penelope before meeting my gaze with a frown.
“Miss Greene was in an accident tonight. She asked me to bring her to this address.”
Greene?
I sweep my gaze over her, seeing no indication she’s been hurt. She does look pretty exhausted.
“What kind of accident?”
“I rolled my car trying to avoid hitting a moose,” she says quietly.
Jesus. Concern starts to rise, but it’s tempered by suspicion. This is probably all part of her ruse because it’s too convenient. I told her to don’t come back, and she gets into an “accident.” Another perfect sob story.
To someone who doesn’t know her, it would seem far-fetched she’d go to such lengths. They would be wrong. I witnessed her outstanding acting eight years ago.
“If that were true, shouldn’t you be at the hospital?”
“That’s where she was before I brought her here,” Officer Brent says, his expression unfriendly. “Though I’m starting to think that was a bad idea.”
It was.
“Did you see the accident?”
“I responded to her emergency call and saw her damaged vehicle.”
Is the cop in on it too? Is he even really a cop? I scrutinize his uniform. WENORA POLICE is written in curved text on his badge, and his utility belt isn’t for show. A police cruiser is also parked behind my car.
“This wasn’t my first choice,” Penelope says. “I was going to stay at a motel but it’s closed. I just need somewhere to sleep for the night. Nothing else. I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”
Sure, I’m less suspicious she’s lying about the accident. It’s still foolish to let half of a pair of traitors into my house when the other half is probably waiting somewhere for their turn to strike. Since I already likened Penelope to a scorpion, I’d be the dumbass frog carrying her on my back.
But it’s hard for me to tell her to get lost again as I hold her gaze. She’s waiting for me to reject her. The unsettling sorrow in her brown eyes reminds me of the first time I met her twelve years ago.
I remember thinking, Who hurt you, sweetheart? Why are you so sad?
I felt this deep compulsion to comfort her and told a stupid joke I can’t recall now. It earned me a tiny smile, yet it had felt like a victory.
Without a word, I step aside and widen the door. This is probably a bad idea but turning my back on her seems worse. Penelope was like a daughter to me for three years. I used to care about her once. A small, reluctant part of me still does despite her betrayal.
Gratitude shines in Penelope’s eyes and she takes a step forward. Officer Brent grabs her upper arm, stalling her. An inexplicable urge to bend his fingers backward until he’s howling like the wind comes over me.
“You sure about this?” he demands. “My offer still stands—”
“I’m sure. Thanks for everything, Officer Brent.”
Penelope tugs her arm out of his grasp and steps over the threshold. Officer Brent levels another glare on me. I return it. Fuck this guy. I shut the door in his face and lock it, then turn to face Penelope. She gives me a tired smile.
“Thank you for letting me stay.”
“Don’t make me regret it. If I get even the slightest hint you’re up to something, I’ll throw you out into the storm.”
“I’m not up to anything, I swear.”
I scoff. “You swear? I’m supposed to trust a perjurer’s words?”
“Are you the same person you were eight years ago?”
“You have some nerve to ask a question like that.”
Because of her, I’m not the man I used to be. The one I worked hard to be.
“You’re right. That was out of line. I’m sorry.”
She lowers her gaze, clutching the straps of her large handbag like she’s waiting for me to change my mind and kick her out. She has good instincts. A part of me is considering it.
I indicate the coat rack and the wooden bench that doubles as a shoe rack to my left.
“Put your stuff there. I’ll be back in a second.”
Walking away from her lets me breathe easier as I head to my bedroom. I grab one of the pillows from my bed, swap the case for a fresh one, and get out a blanket from the closet.
When I return to the living room, Penelope is out of her winter wear, standing awkwardly by the coat rack with her bag on the floor beside her socked feet. I pause, taken aback.
There’s a large purple bruise by her left temple, but I’m more surprised by her transformation. The young girl I remember grew into a beautiful woman. She faintly resembles her mother, though the rest of her is different.
Last I saw Alyssa, she was slender with striking angles. Penelope is soft curves and fullness with rounded cheeks and lush, pink lips.
I drag my gaze down her body, lingering on her chest straining her white v-neck shirt, following the curve of her waist to her wide hips and thick thighs in her grey leggings. It’s been a long time since I last slid my hands all over a woman.
And she would feel incredible.
A chill goes through me at the thought. I turn away from her and drop the bedding onto the couch.
What the fuck am I thinking? She’s my ex-stepdaughter. Even if she wasn’t, I’m almost twice her age, which is disturbing enough. Let’s not forget she shouldn’t be seen in any positive light either.
I face her again. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”
She nods, crossing her arms over her stomach.
“I haven’t had anything since this morning.”
I glance at her left arm on my way to the kitchen. It also has a large bruise, and it looks fresh like the one at her temple. I’m irritated with myself as I get out the beef chilli and rice leftovers from dinner.
Regardless of how I feel about Penelope, I don’t like that she’s been hurt. I probably could’ve prevented her accident if I’d remembered to warn her about the storm. Instead, I was too busy being blindsided and angry.
While I wait for the food to reheat, I turn and lean against the counter, watching Penelope. She glances over at me then quickly looks away, tucking her hair behind her ears as she takes a seat on my couch. Her back is a straight line and she avoids my gaze by surveying the room.
The microwave beep is loud in the silence. I add avocado slices to the plate and carry it over. I set it down on the coffee table along with a glass of juice.
She flashes a smile. “Thank you.”
I take a seat in the armchair while she eats and openly stare at her. She chews slowly, visible tension in her body. I don’t care that I’m making her uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, I like it.
“This is really good,” she says, flicking a glance at me before looking down at the plate.
I frown. I’m not buying her “shy and polite girl” act one bit. There was none of this demure behaviour when she told a roomful of people a horrible, untrue story about me.
“Why is your last name Greene instead of Russo? Are you married?”
She’s wearing silver rings on her right index and ring fingers, one on her left middle finger. I’ve never seen emerald green nail polish on a woman before, and I’ll admit—grudgingly—the colour goes well with her naturally tanned skin.
Penelope pauses sipping her drink and sets down the glass.
“No. Mom changed it.”
“I see. If anyone looks you up, they won’t find out who the both of you really are. The kind of people you really are.”
She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need to. The shame on her face tells me I hit the nail on the head. How nice for them to be able to fade away into obscurity. I couldn’t.
“How did you find me?” I ask.
“Your sister gave me your address.”
It was Elizabeth? Why the hell would she do that?
“You hunted down my sister to get to me?”
“I ran into her. I had just come from paying down on the debt and I was upset. She wanted to know why.” She pauses. “I didn’t want to tell her but she was really persistent. We had a chat over coffee and I told her about my problem. She said you would help me.”
I can’t believe it. I can’t believe Elizabeth would say such a thing when she knows what Penelope and her mother put me through.
What was she thinking?
We got a fifty percent split on the inheritance and company shares Mom left us. She could’ve easily helped Penelope herself instead of sending her my way.
“My sister was wrong. Why would I help someone who tried to send me to prison?”
Penelope sets down the plate, the fork clinking against the porcelain. She clasps her hands in her lap and stares at them as she speaks.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “I’m sorry for everything. I know words aren’t enough but I mean them.”
The sincerity in her voice and her expression further aggravates me. Alyssa never showed a shred of remorse. I prefer that because it makes it easier to accept what she did. It was just her nature. A hammer hammers. A shovel shovels. A terrible person does terrible things.
Penelope showing genuine regret means it’s possible she isn’t like I viewed her all these years—a copy of her mother. I’m not willing to believe that because it’s salt in the wound if I do. If she’s not a terrible person, how could she do something so terrible to me?
“It’s Jacob to you. And you might mean those words but they’re meaningless to me.”
I stand. It’s time to call it a night. The sooner I go to bed, the sooner the morning comes, the sooner she’s gone. I point at the plate.
“Are you finished?”
She nods. “Thank you for the meal.”
Penelope reaches for the plate at the same time I bend to collect it.
Our faces almost touch, her warmth radiating onto me.
I catch the fading perfume of her body lotion and natural scent.
A dormant feeling comes alive in my gut, heading south.
I rear back and accidentally yank the plate from her grasp.
She looks up at me with wide, startled eyes that sparkle in the light.
That sensation in my gut grows stronger.
I like this viewpoint as I’m standing over her.
I’d like it even better if she were lower, on her knees, those pretty lips apologizing for wronging me in more satisfying ways than with useless words.
What the fuck.
I’ve been by myself for too long. I’m not right in the head if disgusting thoughts about Penelope could enter my mind so easily.
Eager for distance from her, I snatch up the glass and stride to the kitchen, stuffing the dishes into the dishwasher. Penelope looks at me with apprehension when I leave the kitchen. I stare at the bruise at her forehead as I pass her on my way to my bedroom.
I take a detour to the bathroom to grab painkillers from the cabinet. I return and set them down on the coffee table with a rattle. She glances at the bottle and gives me a nervous smile.
“Thanks, but I already took a couple at the hospital.”
“What happened to your car after the accident?”
“It was towed. Officer Brent told me it’s at Charlie’s. Do you know where that is?”
“I do. Be up by eight so I can take you there before work.”
She bites her lips together. “That’s really nice of you but you don’t have to. I’ll use the rideshare app on my phone to get to the tow yard.”
“That isn’t a thing here.”
“I’ll call a taxi then.”
“The only company that serviced this area closed down last year.”
She makes an exasperated sound. “God. This town. Hotel and taxi out of service?”
Her frustration is valid. Wenora has scenic forests and lakes, but it isn’t accommodating to tourists.
“There’s a bus at least? I need a way back to the city.”
“Yes, there’s a bus service.” I start to turn away then pause. “The bathroom’s down the hall, first door on the left.”
She nods and I leave for my bedroom, locking the door behind me for the first time. I lie awake, unable to fall asleep even though I’m tired.
How can I when there’s something dangerous in my house, sitting on my couch, pretending to be harmless? What’s worse, the pretense is convincing.
My mind drifts back to the past and those horrible moments in court.
Eight years ago, Penelope went up on the stand and cried crocodile tears while she lied that I raped her mother.
I saw him do it.
No, she’s not harmless at all.