She stands straighter. “Well. How did it go?”
“Good. We have a secret handshake.”
“Oh, lord. Whose idea was that?”
“I’m not sure. She thought wiggling her thumb was a secret handshake, and I couldn’t concede to that, so we made one up. I told her to watch The Parent Trap so she can see what one is, and she told me she could just google it.”
“That sounds about right.” Penelope pauses. “So what’s the secret handshake?”
“Pfft. I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”
Penelope laughs and produces two glasses of wine from the end of the counter, pre-poured, motioning toward the living room.
“Wanna go sit and talk? I know you mentioned the airport tonight, but I thought if you had a little bit of time…?”
I don’t actually have time to sit around because my scheduled flight leaves in two hours, but a simple flight change in the app should get that fixed. After all, I’m seizing every opportunity here to learn about Harper and regain some footing, and yeah, reestablish a relationship with her mother.
“Sure. Yeah, I can do that.”
We go to the living room and get comfortable on the couch, my eyes scanning the photos hanging on the far wall. They’re framed pictures of Skipper, most of them school pictures and a few candids.
She sees me looking. “I can get you some pictures.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t love white wine, but I sip from the glass, wanting to chug the entire thing in one swig to calm my nerves. I never get like this. What’s my damn problem?
New territory.
Uncertainty.
It would make anyone insecure.
“I heard her telling you your voices suck.”
“My voices don’t suck. She did not say they sucked. She said I needed practice.” Or she implied it anyway. Very strongly implied that I watch the show so I would know how the ponies sound. “I was set up for failure. I should have insisted on reading Greenies Green Garden.”
Penn laughs. “Gilly’s Great Green Garden Patch—god, I’ve had to read that book no fewer than sixty times. It’s about a tadpole that sprouts legs and no longer wants to live in water even though he’s a frog who has to live in the water.”
“Sounds like classic literature.”
“She loves anything with sparkly pictures and flowers.”
I fiddle with the stem of the wineglass. “Well, I appreciate you inviting me over to put her to bed.”
Did I tell her that already? I can’t remember anything anymore, least of all what the hell I’m doing. I want to say fuck it all and do nothing but play with my daughter and take her places—to the park, the zoo, the grocery store. Anywhere, I don’t care.
Penelope, too.
Goddamn, I’ve missed her.
I’ve always wondered about the woman she’d become, and now I know. She’d become a mother. A good one.
She worked hard.
She was funny yet shy, sweet and kind.
Her brother seemed to trust me. I’m assuming he now knows the entire situation. I wonder if he’s always known or if he found out when I did. But why would she keep it from him, too?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How much did your brother know about…me?” Being Skipper’s dad.
Her head dips for a few moments. “Honestly, Jack—nothing. He knew we dated, and he knew I was pregnant, but he didn’t know for sure who the father was, and one day, he just gave up asking. I’m not even sure he had suspicions—like he didn’t automatically assume it was you.” Her shoulders rise and fall. “It was awful not only keeping it from you but also keeping it from him. I don’t know how I did it or why. But you know—you dig that hole so deep, and at some point, you realize it’s so deep you can’t get out. Not even when someone throws you a ladder.”
Holy shit! Davis Halbrook hadn’t known?
Why does that make me feel some semblance of comfort?
It’s so fucked up, but there it is.
My gut tells me that in another world, had Halbrook known…he might have contacted me and told me. He would have found a way. Not sure how I know this, but I feel it in my bones.
He would have told me.
Damn shame he got injured. He was one helluva player and a stand-up guy. A guy you’re glad to call a friend.
He proved that by inviting me today when he didn’t have to.
“That’s heavy. Thanks for telling me that.”
Penn nods. “So you know—I know it’s asking a lot. It’s asking the world of you, but…all I want to do is put the past behind us and move forward. Do you think you can do that?”
“Do I think I can do that?” I repeat. “Hell yes, I can do that. That’s the reason I’m here.”
Penelope smiles, hiding it in the brim of her glass. “Good.”
Good.
Good.
We sit like this, making eyes at each other, filling our glasses for a second time, and downing those. Our evening unexpectedly turns from laughing and conversation to something else entirely.