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“She’s quite the stunner.”
“See, and Lucas is never wrong.”
“Oh, I’ll have to argue with you on that one,” Cindy remarked with a knowing salute toward her boss. “See you tomorrow, sir, Mr. Mayor, sir.”
After the door closed, Penelope clasped her hands together and squealed, “I have wonderful news!”
Jesus, that high voice.
Lucas did his best to appear genuinely interested. “Your sister got that big promotion she was up for?”
“Oh no, bigger than that. This is about us.”
“Us?” There wasn’t an ‘us.’
“Yes, I wanted to surprise you for your birthday, but you know me. Can’t hold water.”
* * *
Penelope pulled a printedsheet of paper from her tote. “I sent a sample of your DNA to a company called GeneticallyNclined. Remember, I told you about them after watching them on the news a few weeks ago. They’re the ones that identify your genetic traits and determine if you have any potential health complications.”
The words were flowing a mile a minute and he was trying to keep pace.
He could barely recall their conversation. Just one of many where she incessantly talked and he nodded to be thoughtful of her feelings, without paying close attention. He considered it multitasking.
In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea as he tried to make sense of what she was saying and claiming to have done.
His DNA? She sent his DNA where?
She was still talking.
A mile a minute. With that fucking high voice.
She sent in his fucking DNA?
Slowly, his blood turned into boiling lava. He blinked, rationalizing his way through the rage making its way down his esophagus and traversing his veins and major organs.
Don’t overreact. It wasn’t meant as a betrayal or to be offensive. She didn’t know how this might affect him.
Running his fingers through his hair, he reasoned that above all else he needed to remain in control. Acting out in anger served no one, least of all him.
“Penelope.”
She continued talking, something about genetic snips.
“Penelope!” he yelled.
She sucked in a breath at the atypical tone. “Yes?”
Lowering his voice and aware of all the telltale bodily ticks simultaneously making themselves known, he asked, “Why would you do that without asking me first?”
She waved him off with a perfectly manicured hand. “Because it was a surprise, silly. I know there’s very little that you, well, know about yourself.”
He picked up one of the folders to keep his hands busy and tapped the edge on his desk a few times. “You mean, since I was left in a cardboard box outside of McCauley’s Funeral Home, hours after being born.”
They had never spoken about his past and how he was left on a front porch during a tropical storm. He never discussed it with anyone. There was no need. The entire town knew his story.
After having been found by Levi McCauley, who happened to stop by to check that his newly installed hurricane shutters were sufficiently closed, the authorities were contacted and within hours, Lucas became a ward of the state and placed into foster care. After several home placements in nearby towns, he circled back to Wayward in the third grade. Known as the infant abandoned at McCauley’s years prior.
