A Romantic Contemporary Fiction Book Series
Lost Compass Love by Eve Gaal
Series Excerpt
When she came into the world, the doctor, an avid golfer, called her eyes ‘fairway green.’ Her mother told her stories about the hospital staff admiring her elfish red hair, alabaster skin and perfect little nose. Her parents doted on her and named her Penny because their last name was Himmel or heaven in the German language. Thus, they thanked God for raining a Penny down from heaven.
Growing up, she became a mischievous art student with a great sense of humor and an angelic smile. A cherub-like innocent face covered up a wild side, a side that astonished her teachers, parents and all her friends. At first, she exasperated her mother by tattooing all her Barbie dolls, and piercing all the stuffed animals with safety pins. Later she dyed the family dog, a little white terrier emerald green for St. Patrick’s Day. Enjoying her creativity, her parents usually laughed-off her pranks. The teen years caused them mild consternation but she blossomed into an imaginative young lady who kept everyone on high alert. From making her own clothes out of kitchen towels or painting her dorm room chartreuse so her roommate would move out, she lived her life like a progressive work of art. In sculpture class she invited the nude model home to meet her parents for Thanksgiving, (fortunately he wore clothes), then, she brought the black leather-clad musician home for Christmas. The following year she had a photographer as her Valentine, a philosophy major, a biker and more experiences before she was twenty than most people had in a lifetime.
Black kohl eyeliner accented her almond shaped green eyes, matching her black Doc Marten boots. Pastel chiffon dresses from the Salvation Army store or green fatigues were her fashion statements. Her nails were short and clean, but she usually had various shades of ink on the tips of her fingers. Penny’s favorite sweater had multiple colors and various types of yarn, crocheted lovingly by her mother into stripes of varying widths. A sweater she had worn almost every day in college. She often thought about crocheting a replacement, identical to the frayed one sagging on the back of her office chair at work.
She missed her college years and all her wild, silly shenanigans. Slightly devious, she had fun helping her friends in college cheat, by coming up with ways to bring the answers to class. Her crafty invention consisted of using newsprint printed on white paper as book covers. When she needed to give someone answers, she merely taped a strategically typed piece of paper with various fonts onto the spine of their book and it blended into the design. Being good at typing and graphic art helped her create wonderful book covers full of hidden answers throughout the year. Frustrated teachers offered rewards, and consistently tried deciphering her ingenuity, which consisted of multiple choice answers sprinkled throughout the titles in different calligraphy styles and curlicues. Soon, her classmates were paying top dollar for the answers and her popularity soared. When color copies came out, she could design and bind the actual book cover with a whole semester of tests and quizzes built right into the flourishes of the regular looking text. The income supplemented her allowance, until the school implemented some rules, calling for all books to be left in the cubbyholes in the back of classes on examination day.
Ironically, her art teachers were so impressed with her talent at bookbinding, offset lithography, silk-screen printing, block printing and letterpress that she graduated with honors.
One day, she met John at the hardware store. A tall, vulnerable looking carpenter with strong hands and warm eyes that wrinkled in the corners when he smiled, making his face light up like a holiday tree. Somehow, he knew how to tame her inner leprechaun and kept her out of trouble. Even the thought of their routine, disciplined life made her yawn. Every day the calendar flipped into the next, with the same monotony and predictability of life making her feel like that favorite worn out sweater. Creating another sweater didn’t sound hard, but what about her life, her freedom and the essence that made her Penny? She had disappeared into the earth like a hibernating tortoise. A lost soul buried alongside her mother. The corporate, newspaper-world only made it worse, making her feel like her identity was lost somewhere between passwords and identification numbers. What kind of lunatics, she wondered, yelled and screamed over typographical errors? John’s tenderness and concern didn’t solve her desire to be free and pulling her head into a figurative turtle-shell didn’t make things better.
John always came to hold her hand, to cheer her up. He was the most dependable and stable man she had ever met. Romantic, however--well, somehow the years had changed their relationship into comfortable companionship. They’d bring home pizza and always agree on the toppings. On Thursdays, he would take her out for spaghetti accompanied by her dad. Sometimes they would cook together and set the table for the three of them like some old married couple that had fallen into a boring routine. John wore tee shirts and jeans and big construction worker style boots. His idea of dressing up usually meant he would throw a plaid, short-sleeved shirt over his tee shirt. Occasionally he shaved, and sometimes he combed his messy hair, but what John lacked in grooming, made him seem so…adorably pet-like. He hung around their house for attention, like a lovable Labrador, wondering why those who loved him were too busy to play.
Meanwhile, her dad made jokes at her expense regarding marriage, reminding her about the ticking time bomb in her ovaries and how she should get married so he could finally get some practice being a grandfather. John and Carl had become good friends and when Penny worked, Carl could count on John to pick up a few things for him in a pinch. He was like the son he never had. A good boy.
Tall, lean, loyal, and handsome, John had everything most women desired, but he had one giant flaw that he didn’t even know about. Penny’s dad always thought that if he knew about it maybe he could fix it, but he didn’t have a clue on how to advise either one of them. Her dad’s theory rested on the fact that John’s kindness made him too sweet and that girls wanted trouble. They liked the edgy, movie heroes that drove fast, cursed, smoked and took rebellious risks with life. Women, he figured, generally loved bad boys and John was just too much of a good boy.
Yesterday, unbeknownst to her father, a stranger picked Penny up in a white Jaguar and brought her pink and red roses for what could only be described as the date of a lifetime. The date that young women fantasize about in their wildest dreams, unfolded slowly, like the wings of a butterfly. He stared at her the entire evening and filled her head with fanciful stories of travel and adventure. When the soft music faded out in the background of the restaurant, she heard nothing but his soothing voice telling her about how he wanted to swim under waterfalls with her in Hawaii. His allure hypnotized her and she fell under his spell watching his sexy eyes and sun bleached hair. A long sleeved, white linen shirt billowed around him luxuriously, giving him an otherworldly stature. Her nose immediately picked up the scent of his ginger-scented aftershave. When it came to the food, she stared at it and inhaled the aromas, hardly touching any of it. Her appetite disappeared, but in its place, her eyes floated up to the charming hunk sitting across from her who seemed to be smiling at her obvious discomfort.
Trembling, her hand reached for the water goblet, accidentally tipping over her wine glass. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t get out much.”
Mopping up the wine with his napkin, he took her hand and said, “That’s all right, neither do I.”
If Penny could rate her date on a scale, she’d give this one a ten, even with the strange abundance of awkward silences and uncomfortable moments that made his eyes sparkle with hidden mischief. He gets out plenty, she thought, staring at his smooth hands blotting the tablecloth.
Quietly, after a tiny kiss on the cheek, Penny said goodbye and closed the front door. Shivers ran up her spine, coaxing her back to reality. The lingering scent of ginger kept twitching her nose, quickening her heartbeat into a sound she had not heard for a long time. A sound she thought filled the whole house, yet reverberated only in her head.
Walking towards her father’s room, she heard snores. “Dad, are you awake?” She opened the door and watched him stir before interrupting his dreams. “Daddy, can you hear me?” She whispered.
A muffled voice replied, “Yeah, what’s up?”
“I picked up your medicine,” she hesitated.
“Okay, doll, I’m going back to sleep now,” he grumbled, turning onto his side.
“Dad, can you hear me?” Her voice increasingly louder, she tried to communicate, urging herself to tell him about leaving.
“Yes, what time is it?” He asked, turning again. It was eleven-thirty in the evening and she would be gone before he got out of bed in the morning.
“Dad, I’m going out of town for a few days,” she said in a hushed, but audible tone. Listening for a response, she heard nothing but a wheezing sound coming from the bed. “I’m going to Hawaii,” she said increasing her decibels, “and I’ve stocked the freezer with all kinds of goodies so you don’t starve without me.” Quiet. A ticking clock and a drip in the sink. A few seconds later, she asked again. “Dad? Can you hear me?” Closing the door, she tiptoed into her bedroom to pack.
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