Together With You (16 page)

There it was again, the
us
that tied them together and kept them apart at the same time. “I'll call her tonight, but I can't say I want to talk to her.”

“I don't blame you. She's pushy to say the least.”

Ryan gave in to a grimace. If Denise wasn't out of the country on a flight, she texted him on every whim.
Tell Penny hi!!! Tell
Penny Aunt DeeDee loves her!!! Bought a new friend for
Penny—a panda!!!
The exclamation points alone drove Ryan a little nuts. Carly, on the other hand, sent short texts that served a purpose, pictures of the kids, and silly memes that made him laugh.

They locked eyes from across the room, the silence thickening until a cry burst out of his bedroom.

Carly leapt to her feet, but Ryan reached the doorway first. Penny ran straight into his legs. Crouching down, he peered into her watery eyes. “Honey, what is it?”

Instead of answering, she shoved him back, flung herself into Carly's arms, and shouted, “I want to go home! Please, Carly. Take me home
now
!”

Carly guided Penny to the bed, pulled her into her lap, and hugged her tight. Wrapping her this way was a little like swaddling a baby. Carly needed the physical constraint as much as Penny did, because the rubber band tying her to Ryan was pulling hard. When he first walked into the room, it had almost boomeranged her into his arms.

With Penny still clinging, Carly sought his gaze. He'd taken a few steps back, crossed his arms, and was studying Penny with a clinical air. If they could understand Penny's fascination with the car, maybe she'd stop running away . . . like Allison.

When Penny's sobs faded to sniffles, Carly eased her back a few inches. “Honey, what's wrong?”

Penny answered with a forlorn sniff.

Carly tried again. “Are you afraid?”

“No.”

“Are you mad?”

She wiped her nose but said nothing.

“Are you sad?”

Penny buried her face against Carly's shoulder. The gesture suggested avoidance, but avoidance of what? The smell of paint? The fluttering curtains?

Frustration hammered at Carly with a vengeance. Even with her training, a conversation with Penny was like untangling a knotted
gold chain. If she pulled the wrong strand, the knot tightened and new tangles formed. Holding back a groan, she looked at Ryan. The clinical air was gone, and in its place she saw a worried father.

Without warning, he strode out of the room. A few seconds later, he came back with Miss Rabbit and Lance dangling in his hands. Lifting them, he shot Carly a look as if to say,
What do you think?

She nodded, almost furiously, then shifted Penny to face forward. Ryan handed Miss Rabbit to Carly but kept Lance, pulled up the little desk chair, and sat in front of them. This is what fathers did—they made fools of themselves for their children, at least fools in their own eyes. Carly thought Ryan was wonderful. Handsome beyond words. Generous to a fault. And so full of love for his family that she wondered if he knew God after all, in some small way.

Penny focused on Lance but didn't talk. Wisely, Ryan turned the stuffed lion toward Miss Rabbit. After a throaty growl, he said, “Hello, Miss Rabbit. You look pretty today.”

Carly blushed a little. “Thank you, Lance.”

“Miss Penny is pretty, too,” the lion said. “But she's sad. I'm worried about her.”

“Me too,” Miss Rabbit squeaked.

Lance tipped his head, shook his mane, and gave another
Grrrr.
“Does she have a tummy ache from all those paaaancakes?”

Penny smiled a little at Lance's pirate-like drawl, and so did Carly. Miss Rabbit dipped one ear and tilted her fuzzy head toward Penny. “Are you sad?”

Penny gave a very slow nod.

Asking
why
was the wrong approach with her. She understood concrete images and direct questions, not abstractions. Carly tilted Miss Rabbit's head again. “Did your daddy's car make you sad?”

Penny's mouth trembled. “It broke.”

Carly turned to Ryan, who made Lance growl. “Did the car go to the wrong place?”

“Yes.” Penny focused on Ryan instead of Lance. “You said the car took you to the past. But it didn't work.”

Ryan set Lance aside and talked to Penny as her daddy. “Honey, the car doesn't go to the past. It makes me
think
of the past.”

“But I want to be with my mommy again.”

“I know, honey,” he crooned. “But you can't.”

Oh, but I wish you could. I wish I could, too.
Carly raised her eyes to the painted clouds, blew her mother a kiss, and held Penny tight. “We can't visit heaven, but you can feel your mommy's love in your heart.”

Penny pushed off Carly's lap and stood with her fists at her sides. “But heaven is real. Aunt DeeDee told me, and so did you. I want my mommy.”

Ryan set Lance on the floor. “I'm so sorry, Penny. We can remember your mother, but we can't visit her.”

“But heaven is
real
,” she cried again. “Carly said so. It's in the clouds.”

Ryan looked at Carly, his expression both sympathetic and mildly accusing, as if her faith had caused this mess for Penny. What could Carly say to either of them? How did you explain heaven to a child who took everything literally, who saw the world in a purely practical way but with some distortion? And Ryan . . . he prided himself on logic and personal competence. He didn't directly disparage her faith, but a gentle criticism wafted off his stiff shoulders.

Explaining heaven was too big a job for Miss Rabbit, so Carly set the toy aside. “Penny, your mommy
is
in heaven, but heaven isn't a place we can visit.”

“Yes, it is.” She waved her hand at the cloud on the wall. “It's there! That's what you said. It's in the clouds.”

The child's pain punched Carly in the gut. She'd blown it again. She'd failed a child who needed her. With a weight in her belly, she searched for the right words. “I believe in heaven with my whole heart, but we can't visit your mommy.”

“But why? Why can't we?” Her voice rose to a shriek. Before Carly could stop her, she hauled back and kicked the open paint can so hard it tipped. Gray paint spread across the plastic tarp.

Ryan lifted Penny and held her against his chest. She kicked against him, harder and harder. The room reeked of paint and misery, and Penny's cries echoed off the walls. But what hurt Carly the most was the superior look on Ryan's face.

O
n Monday morning Ryan came downstairs as usual, but Carly wasn't in the kitchen. He glanced down the hall to her room, saw the closed door, and let out the breath he'd been holding. He didn't know what to say about yesterday's fiasco with Penny, except that he wanted to protect his daughter from hurt, and he didn't understand Carly and her faith at all.

Relieved to avoid the conversation, he left the house quietly, cruised through a drive-thru, and arrived at the office an hour before the first patient. With breakfast in hand, he retreated to his desk to read e-mail and scan the news. He was halfway through the bagel, which wasn't as good as the ones Carly made, when his phone buzzed with a text. This early in the day it had to be her.

Frowning, he glanced at his phone. Instead of the photo he'd snapped when Carly wasn't looking, he saw a message from Denise.
Am in LA!! Big news!!! When can we talk w/
o Penny?

He couldn't imagine what the news might be. A promotion seemed likely, or maybe she was getting married and would finally get out of his hair.

Lifting his coffee to his lips, he ordered himself to stay detached.
Knowing Denise,
w/o Penny
meant
about Penny.
And
about Penny
meant questions, criticism, and advice he didn't want. He had a full load of patients today, but he respected the limits of her flight schedule, so he texted back.
Anytime after 5 pm. Where?

She texted back a street address in El Segundo, a neighborhood on the south side of Los Angeles International Airport. The locals called it the Mayberry of Los Angeles because of its quiet streets and small-town atmosphere.

The residential address surprised him, but a lot of airline personnel lived there. Denise was probably staying with a friend, or maybe the airline rented a house for layovers. He texted back that he'd be there but paused before texting Carly about Denise's visit. She deserved a phone call, but he didn't want to disturb her. Setting the phone aside, he decided to call her later in the morning between patients.

Unfortunately, an epidemic of conjunctivitis filled the waiting room with irritable children and cranky adults. Overloaded, he skipped lunch, asked Fran to call Carly, and barely managed to leave the office on time.

He was in a sour mood when he turned down Denise's street. With one eye on the GPS, he drove by houses typical of an old neighborhood being dragged into the future. The oldest homes were small and flat-roofed, relics from the 1940s. Others were drastically remodeled, and a few were new from the ground up.

The address Denise had given him belonged to an old bungalow on a street about a half mile from the beach. Taking in manicured lawns and mature trees, he parked under a sycamore, climbed out of the Honda, and strode up the front walk.

Denise opened the door wide and smiled, something she didn't do around him very often. Even more disconcerting was her clothing, a faded jersey and old jeans. Her hair was in a ponytail instead of a bun, and she was wearing flip-flops. Sadly, she reminded him of Jenna, and he recalled his promise to ask for a photograph of her.

“Thanks for coming over,” Denise called out to him. “Traffic must have been terrible.”

“It always is.” Determined to be friendly, he asked his usual question. “How was your flight?”

Her lips tipped into a smug smile. “I didn't fly. I drove.”

“You
what
?”

“I drove,” she repeated. “I turned in my retirement papers a month ago, rented out my condo, and here I am.” She held out her hand to indicate the house. “Come on in. I'll show you around.”

Ryan's feet stuck to the welcome mat. “This house—”

“I'm renting it, but the move to Los Angeles is permanent.” Chin high, she watched him with a dare in her eyes.

The thought of having Denise so close grated on his last nerve, but he feigned calmness and followed her inside. The house was bigger than it appeared to be from the street. A family room stretched into a backyard lined with rosebushes, and a dining area connected to a walk-through kitchen decorated in retro black-and-white. The far end of the kitchen opened into a small den, where cardboard boxes lined one wall. The bedrooms were off to the right.

“It's small,” Denise said. “But it's perfect for two people.”

“What's going on?” He knew where this conversation was headed but wanted to hear her explain it.

She headed for the rose-colored sofa in the living room. “Let's sit down. I'll tell you the whole story. But first, can I get you something to drink? Water? Iced tea?”

“Nothing. I'm fine.”

“Coffee?”

The flight attendant in her sometimes took over. Next she'd be telling him to buckle his seatbelt and put his tray table in the full upright position. Jet noise echoed in the distance, building from a rumble to the full-throated roar of takeoff. If Denise heard the noise at all, she ignored it.

She sat across from him on a chair that matched the couch. “I'm going to be as honest with you as I can.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I hope you'll return the favor.”

“Of course.”

She inhaled deeply through her nose, then straightened her spine as if she were about to give a speech. “This isn't a sudden decision. I was considering retirement even before Jenna died. She needed help with Penny, but my job made it impossible to be there for her. As much as I loved flying, it came at a cost. I never married, never had kids. Penny's my only family aside from some cousins I haven't seen in twenty years.”

Ryan had the same kind of cousins—distant and forgotten. “You love Penny. I know that, and I respect your ties to her.”

“Yes, you do. And you've been good about sharing her. But monthly visits just aren't enough, especially when I hear about her getting lost at the mall or running away.”

“We're working on why she does it. You know how it is.”

“What I know is that she has to be watched.” Denise's gaze flicked proudly around the living room filled with feminine touches—fake flowers, lacy curtains, throw pillows. “This little house is perfect for her. There's no pool, and I'm the only one who'll have a key to the back gate. I'm also changing the door locks to keypads. It's safer for children who tend to wander.”

Another jet roared overhead. Denise didn't notice, but Penny would. “Did you consider the jet noise?” he shouted over it.

“She'll get used to it.”

“I don't think so.”

“Of course she will. It just takes time.”

As quickly as the noise erupted, it faded to silence. Maybe Penny would adjust, but Ryan doubted it. “I suppose you want to work out a schedule for Penny to visit.”

“Yes . . . or maybe more.”

“Like what?”

“I want Penny to live with me. I'm home now, so you won't have to depend on a nanny.”

“Denise, no.”

The corners of her mouth deepened into a frown. “We both know what Jenna wrote to me in that e-mail.”

“Yes, we do.” He had read it in the attorney's office, when he and Denise sorted out caring for Penny. Jaw tight, he saw the printed computer page in his mind.
If something happens to me, would you raise Penny as your own? Ryan Tremaine will pay support, but he's not father material. He's too perfect. He'll
never understand her.

When Jenna wrote those words, they'd been true. Except the part about him being perfect. A perfect man didn't cheat on his wife. That failure still shamed him, but he was trying hard to be a good father. He knew Penny now, and he loved her just as she was. She had weaknesses, but who didn't? Even Carly had a few, like her need for religion.

Ryan opened his mouth to tell Denise to back off, but she cut him off. “I can give Penny as much as you can. She needs a mother. As her aunt, I'm the best person to fill that role. I love her more than anyone or anything else.”

The implication being that Ryan didn't love her as much as Denise did. He leaned back on the couch and stretched his arm. “Forget it, Denise. Penny's my daughter. I'm going to live up to that responsibility.”

“But do you love her?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then do what's best for her.”

“I am.”

Denise shot to her feet. “You ruined my sister's life, and now you're going to ruin Penny's just to prove something.”

Ryan bristled, but part of her claim was true. He yearned to redeem himself, but his personal life was none of her business. The
meeting was over, so he pushed to his feet. “My motives are none of your concern. We both want what's best for Penny, and for that reason, we're going to work together.”

“But I can help her,” Denise said, her voice rising over the roar of yet another jet. “I can be a mother to her.”

“And I'm her father.”

The roar faded as rapidly as it had begun, leaving them tangled in a wash of silence. With their eyes locked, they both heaved a sigh.

Making it a point to be diplomatic, even kind, Ryan offered a faint smile. “In a way, she's lucky. We're fighting over keeping her. A lot of FASD kids get tossed into foster care.”

Denise's frown melted a little, and she sat. “That's true. But still . . .”

“What?”

“With all the trouble you've had with nannies, I'm worried Penny won't have the stability she needs.”

“Carly's working out great.”

“For now. But how long will she stay? She's been very candid about going back to Kentucky.”

“Maybe she'll change her mind.” He hoped so, and not just for Penny's sake. The boys loved her, and so did—
No.
He wouldn't go down that road. He'd written off marriage the day he signed divorce papers, but Carly made him believe in himself. He wanted to be the man she thought he was, the man she deserved.

He'd gotten way ahead of himself, but when it came to Carly his emotions took off like the jets at LAX, one after another in defiance of gravity. Maybe Denise was right—he'd get used to the background noise, but his feelings for Carly were revving up again, and he felt the reverberation in his ribs.

Denise arched her brows at him. “It's none of my business, Ryan. But are you two involved?”

“No.” A truthful answer, but only if he focused on his behavior and not his feelings for her. “Carly and I have a professional
relationship. I'll be as straight with you as you were with me. That relationship includes a friendship like I'm friends with Fran, my office manager. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, but I'm not blind.” Denise's voice softened a bit. “I've gotten to know her, and I have to admit I like her.”

“She's a nice person.”

“She's also young and pretty. You're both adults—”

“Don't go there.”

A dry little laugh escaped from her tight lips. “I've had a few relationships in my time. You're human and so is Carly.”

“There's nothing between us,” he said again. “We talk about family matters, and she's great with Penny. She's intelligent, kind, and more compassionate than anyone I know. You can think whatever you want about me, but don't question Carly's professionalism.”

“I wasn't.” Denise flattened her hand on her chest, the picture of someone falsely accused, but her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

He'd defended Carly too quickly, said too much, but he wouldn't take back a single word even if he could. Matching Denise's superior stare, he changed the subject. “Let's set a schedule for Penny to visit you. She's not in school yet, so we have some flexibility. What do you think of one overnight visit a week?”

“I'd like more, of course.”

“That's my offer.” He wasn't denying Denise for spite. He truly believed Penny was better off at home with Carly.

Denise huffed through her nose and paused, maybe to debate the wisdom of negotiating with him. He hoped she didn't try, because he wouldn't budge, especially when another jet blasted into the sky. El Segundo had a lot going for it, but with Penny's sensitivity to noise, he thought Denise had made a mistake in choosing to live here. Ryan didn't hold it against her. He had made mistakes, too, like hiring that over-the-top decorator to do Penny's room. She was happier now without the clutter, though the cloud murals and her confusion about death and heaven still concerned him.

“By the way,” he said to Denise, “I'd like a picture of Jenna for Penny's room. She can't grasp that her mother's gone. Having a picture might help her understand.”

“Oh.” Denise seemed to shrivel in front of him.

“Do you have one handy?” Ryan hated to push, but he agreed with Carly about the picture.

Denise glanced at the boxes on the other side of the kitchen. Sorrow dimmed her eyes, and she turned hurriedly away. “I'm still unpacking. I'll dig one out later.”

“That's fine.”

She took a breath, maybe to fortify herself. “Would you like to see Penny's room? The furniture's coming later today.”

Ryan followed her through the kitchen and around the corner to a tiny bedroom. Square footage meant nothing to Penny, but she desperately needed order. “You might want to talk to Carly before you do any decorating.”

“Thanks, but it's not necessary.”

For Penny's sake, he tried again. “You know how she is. Too much stimulation—”

“Penny will love what I have in mind. I'm going with a zoo theme.”

He hoped Penny would like it, but it was hard to trust Denise's judgment with yet another plane taking off. As a flight attendant, she'd been in charge of passengers but not weather, turbulence, or flight plans. Raising Penny presented a similar mix of circumstances. He hoped Denise planned to pass out headphones to block the noise.