Page 2 of Keeping Penny

Her job with the UNFPA, an organization that specializes in reproductive and maternal health, was rewarding and fulfilling. She’d helped bring countless children into the world, making both them and their mothers safer during the entire birthing process.

Considering Bowie’s lack of sight, and the vulnerable population she worked with, Penny had basically dedicated herself to putting others first.

Which was why she wasn’t pushing her way to the front of the group to get inside the helicopter. Why she was encouraging the scared and jittery people in front of her to quickly enter then move back to make room for others. Why she was pulling bags out of people’s hands and throwing them to the roof without a second thought. Every bag left behind meant more room for another person. And human lives were more important than whatever these women had packed in their suitcases.

It wasn’t quite that easy, as several women were opposed to leaving their things. But Penny was insistent without being a bitch about it.

When there were about six of them left on the roof, Penny sensed a change in the man helping them onboard. An urgency that wasn’t there before. He’d been in somewhat of a hurry since opening the door, but now he was practically throwing the women into the helicopter, where before he was being a little more patient.

The change made the hair on the back of Penny’s neck stand up.

“Hurry!” she yelled at the woman in front of her, who was balking at getting into the helicopter.

“I can’t!” the lady wailed.

Penny didn’t need to see the man’s tightly pressed lips and frown to know they were almost out of time. She put her hand on the woman’s back and shoved her forward.

“Get on or we’re all dead!” she yelled in the woman’s ear.

She didn’t think the woman actually made the decision to get onboard by herself, but with Penny at her back pushing and the military man grabbing her waist and lifting her off her feet and into the chopper, she didn’t have a choice.

The woman’s mouth dropped open, and she probably let out a screech of surprise or protest, but it was lost in the noise of the rotors.

The man with the helmet turned to her and gripped her waist, but Penny was ready and willing. As soon as she was on her feet inside the chopper, the man leapt inside himself. He grabbed the door to pull it closed, and Penny instinctually reached out to help.

He nodded at her, and Penny couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were a beautiful, rich mahogany-brown color. His face was…trustworthy. Which might seem stupid, but she’d become a good judge of character over the years. Having to make split-second decisions on who to trust and who to be wary of.

And this man—he was someone she could trust. After all, she’d seen him treat Bowie as if she were made of glass, which was a huge plus in her book.

People tended to either dismiss her little girl—thinking she was worthless because she couldn’t see—or treat her as if she was stupid because of her disability. Both reactions were irritating. But Penny had recognized the moment this man understood the situation with Bowie, and he instantly adapted to her condition. Based on her daughter’s movements when she was inside the chopper, the man seemed to give her very precise instructions that were easy for the girl to follow.

Of course, she could’ve misread the situation, as she wasn’t close enough to hear what he’d said to her daughter, but she wanted to think that he’d been reassuring and comforting.

With the door closed, the man had to push his way through the throng of bodies to get back to the front of the chopper. Before he made it to the seat at the controls, they were already moving. And not slowly either. The helicopter lifted, then banked to the right, hard.

Everyone around her screamed in fear, and Penny instinctively looked toward where she’d last seen Bowie. To her surprise, her daughter was holding on to a rope that was strung along the side of the chopper—and she still had a huge smile on her face. As if she were on a roller coaster instead of in the middle of a death-defying situation.

Of course, Bowie had never been on a roller coaster in her short life, but she’d listened to stories about them that Penny read to her. And when she was around four, Penny had even constructed a kind of roller coaster out of a box, putting a fan in front of the box and shaking it, letting the little girl pretend she was riding one.

Penny’s attention turned to the men behind the controls. She was too far away to see more than sky out the front of the windshield, so she kept her gaze glued to the pilots. One in particular. The one whose hands she would swear she could still feel around her waist.

He was strong and competent, and she had to believe that he’d get them all back on the ground to safety in one piece.

He turned and yelled something back toward his passengers, and Penny read his lips more than she heard the words.

“Hold on!”

No one had time to heed his warning before the chopper was once more banking hard to the side, throwing everyone into one another violently. There were more screams, and some women were crying now.

She held on to the door with a white-knuckled grip as the chopper banked to the right and left. When it finally leveled off, most of the women and children were crying.

The rotor blades of the chopper were loud, and there was no point in trying to talk to anyone or asking if it was okay if she moved, so Penny took the chance to finally weave her way around everyone kneeling or sitting on the floor so she could get to Bowie.

The second she touched her daughter’s shoulder, Bowie lifted her head and smiled.

“You okay?” Penny asked, going to her knees in front of her child. There was no room to sit next to her against the side of the helicopter, but that was all right, Penny would prefer that Bowie hold on to the rope in case they had more turbulence.

Calling what she suspected was the pilots dodging missiles or people shooting at them “turbulence” felt like a joke. But it was better than admitting people who didn’t even know them wanted them all dead.