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The knock at Penny’s door was soft and unexpected. Mia motioned for her to stay and got up to answer. The man that greeted them smiled and held up a black doctor’s bag. She’d thought they’d long ago gone out of fashion, and either he was attempting to resurrect a dying art or he was making a house call.
“Afternoon,” he said, his smooth voice cheerful. “I’m here to see Penny?”
Mia stepped aside and swung her hand to welcome him in. “She’s over there.”
“I see Damien has sent you to check on me,” she smiled.
“Actually, it was Hollywood.”
No doubt under Damien’s instructions, but she wasn’t about to argue. Inside her shoes, her feet were on fire. Penny waved him over, studying him as he neared. She guessed him to be in his mid-thirties but the gray hair suggested otherwise. It extended down his chin to his beard. Stopping before her, he set down his bag and sat on the ottoman. Kind brown eyes appraised her, settling on her wrists first.
“Although he didn’t mention anything about those.”
Suddenly self-conscious of the bandages, she pulled her hands close to her body. “Rope burns.”
He held out a hand. “I’m Dr. Colt Manning. Nice to meet you.”
“A doc with a nice bedside manner.” She found herself smiling as she shook his hand. “Quite unusual. Dr. Penny Strong.”
He grinned, turning her hand over to inspect the inside of her wrist. “May I?”
Mia plopped onto the couch beside her. “Strong?”
Penny nodded, watching Colt carefully remove the bandages. “My adopted name.” She tried to avoid the curious stare but couldn’t. Turning her head, she wished Mia could understand. “Cliché it may be, but I needed to keep reminding myself I did the right thing.”
Mia smiled tenderly. “You did, and Stevie will understand. You’ll see.”
I hope so.
“These look like they’re healing nicely. Any itching?”
Penny rolled her eyes. “Insanely so. Got anything for that?”
“I do, actually.” He reached into his black bag and withdrew a small tube. “This numbs the local area while preventing the skin from drying out, but please, use it sparingly. It’s powerful stuff.”
“Thank you.” She took the small tube.
“Now, the feet. I see you are wearing shoes.”
She nodded, wishing like hell she wasn’t. “They’re killing me.”
Standing, he motioned for her to put her feet on the ottoman and knelt in front. He slipped the lightweight shoes off her feet and made a noise. The socks Damien insisted she wore had soaked up some of the cream he’d used, along with a few spots of blood. Colt removed them slowly, checking to see if any of her skin had stuck to the material. With her feet free, she sighed with relief. The cool air helped ease the burning sensation as much as the elevation did.
Colt studied both soles of her feet. “Nasty.” He nodded. “But looks like there is no infection.”
“Which is a miracle,” she added.
“You’ll need to stay off them a little longer, and I’m sorry, but no shoes until the swelling goes down. I have some wound spray at the hospital that will help. I’ll swing by and bring it in, if that’s okay?”
“Thank you.”
“I understand being off your feet is inconvenient, but these will heal much quicker if you do. Use some ice to help bring down the swelling.”
“Or just stick them outside,” Mia snorted. “It’s cold enough. The forecast is for a dump of snow tomorrow.”
Colt chuckled. “No stitches required and no serious injury, really. Do you have some ibuprofen or paracetamol for the pain?” Penny shook her head, at which, he reached into his bag and produced a blister pack of twelve. “Ibuprofen. Please consume with food.”
“Yes.” Mia nodded, glancing across at Hollywood briefly. They shared a cheeky smile. “Or you’ll regret it.”
“Is there anything else?” Colt asked pointedly.
She had to wonder what he’d been told. “I had some bruises but they’ve healed, and I think my ribs are fine. I wasn’t assaulted, if that’s what you think.”
He focused on Mia. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”
“Oh!” She jumped up. “Of course. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.”
When they were alone, he sat on the couch beside her. “You can tell me anything. I will keep your confidence.”
“I appreciate that, Colt, but really, I wasn’t sexually assaulted. Aside from my wrists and the bottoms of my feet, I’m quite okay.”
He seemed entirely unconvinced though she didn’t understand why. “The offer stands, Penny. Any time. What about psychologically? Are you sleeping? Having nightmares? Sometimes, our minds take time to really comprehend what we’ve been through.”
“I have been having some night terrors,” she admitted. “But don’t you dare tell Damien.”
He gave her a look that said be reasonable. “The more you talk about them, the easier it is to get through them. I’m living proof.”
The hard part was that the nightmares had nothing to do with what happened during her abduction. Not being able to save her last patient had featured, along with a half-dozen other no-win situations she’d faced over the years. Opening up to Damien about the last twenty years had unlocked events she’d forgotten, and atrocities better left in the depths of history had come back to haunt her.
“There are others you might like to talk to,” he continued, the urgency in his words not lost on her. “I can refer you to some very good counsellors. Don’t make a decision now, Penny, but don’t leave it too long. You need to look after yourself.”
She took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Colt. Perhaps you could arrange something for me?”
“Consider it done. Would you like something to help you sleep?”
Penny shook her head. Sleeping pills had never been the answer before and she doubted anything had changed since. Outside, tires crunched on the gravel and stopped outside her door. In the low early evening light, headlights lit up the windows. Footsteps thumped on the veranda and shadows loomed. The pause between the sound of someone approaching and the knock on the door caused her throat to tighten.
“Looks like you have company. I’m not far away if you need anything, Penny.”
She hardly heard him as she watched him collect his bag and cross the room to the front door. He pulled it open to reveal a young woman. Trim, athletic and blond, she stared at Penny with wide eyes. Standing stock still, she gaped. Beautiful blue eyes filled with tears, bringing Penny to her feet. She ignored the sting of her injuries and focused on the woman. There was no denying her identity. She looked every bit like her father, a grown-up version of the four-year-old she’d left behind.
Hope. “Stevie?”
“Mum?”
All the air rushed out of Penny’s lungs at the sound of the word. Her knees threatened to give way as a surge of love powered through her. Twenty-three years vanished as the daughter she’d died to protect cried. Tears rolled down the soft skin of her cheeks. Her hands fidgeted with the zipper of her coat. But she didn’t move. Her gaze drifted down to Penny’s feet and then back to her face and joy mingled with sadness.
Penny couldn’t think beyond getting her to come inside. “Yes, sweetheart. It’s me.”
“But?”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Damien appeared behind her. “She’s real. I promise.”
Stevie’s weight tipped forward onto her toes but she hesitated. Needing to feel her daughter, Penny opened her arms. That was all it took. In a flash, Stevie raced into the cottage and landed in her waiting arms. The force of the contact nearly knocked her off her feet, but she held on and let the tears flow.
The hug squeezed her ribs and pinched what remained of the bruises but she didn’t care. Running her hands over Stevie’s long hair, she held her daughter against her with all the strength she had left. It felt like an eternity before Stevie pulled back to look at her. Her fingers touched Penny’s face with so much care it almost broke her heart. As if she were an illusion that would disintegrate if manhandled harshly.
“Look at you,” Penny breathed. “All grown up and so, so beautiful. You look like your father.”
Stevie laughed through the sadness in her eyes. “He says I look like you.”
Penny pressed her palm to her daughter’s glowing cheek. The warmth concerned her. “Are you well?”
“I am. Just tired. Max hasn’t been sleeping well and my all-day sickness is worse this time around.”
This time around...Penny smiled and glanced over at Damien. He reached inside and closed the door with a nod, giving them some privacy.
“Sit with me?”
Stevie nodded and stepped back to remove her jacket. Sitting on the couch, Penny took Stevie’s hands in hers. In the quiet room, she studied her daughter’s face. The familiarity in her shape and the likeness to her father convinced Penny she would’ve known her anywhere. The woman staring back at her raised her hopes for forgiveness, just as she reminded her of everything she’d missed out on.
Puberty.
Her first date.
Her graduation.
Getting her driver’s license.
Her daughter had married and given birth without her. She’d faced those who came to end her life head on, lived through her father’s return and Penny was to blame for all of it. Guilt seeped into her heart once again. Would she ever be rid of it?
“Mum?”
Penny blinked. “You don’t have to call me that.”
Stevie frowned. “I don’t know you as anything else. Would you rather I call you Penny?”
The question felt wrong on every level. She sighed, unsure how to explain it. “I just meant that I haven’t been your mother for a very long time.”
“No. You faked your death, just like Dad did. Just like I did.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It’s our family trait.”
How had Damien had enough time to explain everything to her? “I couldn’t see any other way to keep you safe.”
“I know.” Stevie squeezed her hands. “I understand.”
The easy acceptance of the past floored Penny. “I left you. Doesn’t that make you angry?”
“I’m sad I didn’t have you in my life, and maybe I wish things had been different, but I can’t change any of it. Being angry serves no purpose. I know you did what you did because you thought it was best. You did it to protect me. How could I be angry at that?”
Damien was right. They’d raised a remarkable human being and it brought tears to Penny’s eyes. Stevie reached across to wipe them away.
“You know, I once actually wished you had faked your death, that you’d come back after Dad did. It almost seemed cruel that you were the only one who really was gone. Except you weren’t.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Can I call you Mum?”
The question took her by surprise. “I don’t know if I deserve it. I’m not the mother you remember.”
“You are the one who read to me in Italian, and tried to teach me the language, yes?”
The memory surfaced and chased away the cold in Penny’s chest. “Si. Cosa ricordi di me?”
Stevie blinked, her face blank for a moment before her eyes shone with understanding. “Too much and not enough.”
Penny pulled her into her arms and held her tight. Please, call me Mum. Though Stevie accepted her without question, she didn’t feel as if she deserved the welcome. It was almost too easy and it left her wary, waiting for anger to bubble its way to the surface and burst into existence.
“I’ve changed,” she said at Stevie’s ear. “And you hardly know me.”
“It’s okay.” Stevie patted her shoulder. “It’ll take time.” She pulled back to look at Penny, the concern in her eyes clear. “Unless you have somewhere else to be?”
The expectation that she’d stay and step into her role as wife and mother weighed heavily on Penny’s shoulders. It was a feeling she hadn’t anticipated and it unsettled her. She wanted to be here for Damien and Stevie, but what if she couldn’t be the person they needed her to be?
She’d spent the last twenty-three years following her own path, one that didn’t include the needs of family. Now she needed to find a balance between the independent woman she’d had to become and the family member they remembered from so long ago.
Terrified she wouldn’t be able to strike a sense of harmony between the roles, Penny hugged Stevie once more and prayed for wisdom to know which way to turn.