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Oh, what the hell. “The day can’t get much worse, I suppose.”
Penta laughed. “You obviously haven’t spent much time around kids. It can always get worse.” Her eyes glinted and sparkled. “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Running the gauntlet of Penta’s children was a surreal experience. He did his best to focus on the introductions, but kept flashing back to the instant he’d taken a grip on Aaron’s oily scruff and yanked him away from Elle. When would he learn to ask questions before reacting with violence?
Cyril, of course, had no reaction to his presence. Felix continued to regard him with deep suspicion, which actually reassured Cash. At least Penta had someone looking out for her. Delilah reminded him of Elle, not in looks but in age and attitude, and brought home what he’d lost today with such force he couldn’t breathe for several heartbeats.
Penta tracked down her youngest in her bedroom. He stepped in gingerly, overwhelmed by the pink frilliness. Pink walls, pink bedspread, pink curtains. Stuffed animals stared beadily at him from a haphazard pile in the corner.
“Abra, I’d like you to meet Cash.”
“Hi.” The girl sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a mosaic of colourful paper, photos, and glitter-covered shapes. She was a tiny version of Penta with the same curly dark hair, snub nose, and rounded cheeks.
He suddenly felt three times his size, as if his feet were snowshoes, his hands baseball gloves. “Nice to meet you.”
“What do you think of this one?” She plucked a piece of paper from the pile around her and held it up. A photo of a sad-eyed puppy with long, floppy brown ears was framed by purple sequins.
“Uh.” He glanced at Penta who grinned back unhelpfully. “He’s cute?” He couldn’t help the questioning lilt.
Abra nodded with satisfaction. “I think so too. He’s going on the wall.” She waved a small hand at the empty strings pinned in a long zigzag pattern that started about two feet off the floor and reached almost to the ceiling. Tilting her head in a motion that reminded him even more of Penta, she regarded him seriously. “You’re taller than Felix. Can you help me put it up?”
Which was how he ended up spending the next half hour decorating an eleven-year-old girl’s room. The tiny tyrant knew exactly what she wanted, so thankfully all he had to do was follow orders.
When she finally released him, he staggered down the stairs and found Penta in the kitchen. She looked up from tossing a salad. “Survived, did you?”
“Barely.” He’d been distracted from his own woes, but now they returned. “I should be going.”
“Do you want to stay for dinner?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, though.” He was so used to being alone that a day spent peopling would have been emotionally draining even without the drama at Elle’s birthday.
“I understand.”
Oddly enough, he believed she did. It was an unexpected comfort.
He was at his truck when he heard her calling. She pattered down the front path, waving a blue envelope in her hand.
“I almost forgot to give this to you.”
He took it and read his name in neat cursive on the front. “What is it?”
“Nothing much. But I saw it and thought of you.” The tip of her nose pinked and she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Don’t open it until tomorrow.”
Mystified, he nodded.
She rested a hand on his arm and lifted up on her toes. He instinctively dipped his head and she brushed her lips against his cheek, just above the edge of his beard. “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay with Elle. Just give her time.”
Chapter Eleven
The Sunday after Elle’s birthday party was Father’s Day. Penta took her children to visit her dad in the morning so they could have brunch with their grandfather. Afterward, Felix drove his siblings to Mark’s to spend the rest of the day there.
Which meant she had the whole afternoon to herself.
If she were a good daughter, she’d go back to her dad’s to keep him company. Her mother had been gone for just over a year now and, while he seemed to have recovered from the worst of his grief, she knew he was lonely. Since she visited him nearly every day and would go back tomorrow to do his laundry and some light housekeeping, she decided to find a sunny spot in the back yard and relax with a book and a small glass of wine.
She did just that, but was unable to settle. The chores four nearly grown children generated were never ending. Reading in the afternoon seemed like playing hooky. Also, she was worried about Cash. He’d had a stressful day yesterday and she knew how accusing the voices in your head could be.
She gave up the battle. Maybe her conscience would let her rest after she’d cleared the kitchen and thrown in a load of laundry.
