The Proposal at Siesta Key Part 3

No, they had given her everything they'd thought she needed. And while her material needs might have been met, Penny was certain that she needed more for herself. Getting out last night had made her realize just how sheltered she'd become. And after she got over the sting of Michael Knoxx's brush-off, Penny had come to realize that she not only needed to leave the house more, but she needed to get to know more people her age. She needed friends, men and women, with whom to try new experiences. And to fund those things, she was going to need money.

However, she wasn't quite ready to be completely honest and up-front. "I want to do something on my own," she said slowly. "I want to meet other people. I want to feel good about myself."

Her father glared. "All you are doing is setting yourself up for disappointment."

Though she'd imagined that they would do everything possible to dissuade her, the comment took her by surprise. "Why is that?"

"Jobs are hard to come by and you have no qualifications."

His harsh words felt like a slap in the face. More than that, really. "I was good in school," she pointed out. But even to her ears her statement seemed woefully inadequate.

"You have no experience. And at your age, people will expect that you should."

"At my age?" This was something new. She was twenty-four, not forty-four. Surely no one expected someone in their twenties to have loads of experience.

"Most girls your age have been doing all sorts of things," her father replied. "Amish girls leave school at fourteen. Most have had ten years' experience at something or another by now."

"I realize that." The years had pa.s.sed in a haze of grief for her sister and the fear of the unknown. Though she'd been intent on obeying her parents, she'd also allowed herself to become a recluse. But at last, she'd summoned the courage to finally do something different. It was time to start stretching herself, to take responsibility for her life.

"Lissy would most likely have already done all sorts of things by now," her father added somewhat desperately.

Penny was so hurt, she could barely get out her next words. "Lissy would have?"

"Lissy was special."

Penny knew that. Penny had always known that.

But while she would never have her sister's beauty, independent nature, easy smile, or even her beautiful, oh-so-feminine name, Penny had thought her parents would one day notice her worth, too. Actually, a small part of her had felt sure her parents would agree it was time she spread her wings-once they got their heads around the idea of her being more independent.

But now, her parents' point of view was starting to look mighty clear. Her parents had been keeping her close to them on purpose. They hadn't wanted her to have lots of other options. They kept her nearby for their own selfish reasons, so that she would never get away. But it wasn't because they especially wanted her near. No, to them she would always be a poor subst.i.tute for her sister.

And while she still wasn't prepared to think the worst of them, she couldn't bear to imagine that they'd kept such a tight hold on her for any reason other than the fear of losing her. It was now plain, to her at least, that they'd hoped that she would always be dependent on them.

Which was terribly unfair.

A temper that she'd never known she possessed filled her just then. Suddenly, all she knew was that she couldn't stay in this kitchen, pretending to have a meaningful, caring conversation about her future for another minute.

"I need to leave." With a jerk, she stood up so abruptly that her chair sc.r.a.ped the floor.

Her mother blinked in confusion. "Penny, what in the world has gotten into you?"

"Everything," she said, thinking that just about summed it up. Everything had finally gotten into her. A backbone. Goals. Even the Lord's caring whispers that she wasn't leading the life He had given her. Instead, she'd merely been in some kind of holding pattern.

Lost without even knowing it.

Her mother was now staring at her as if she were a foundling who'd come calling unannounced and uninvited. "'Everything' is certainly no kind of answer."

"I would explain myself, but I'm fairly sure you wouldn't like the answer."

Her father glowered. "Penny, you must apologize for your behavior."

"I will when you will," she retorted.

"What have I done?"

"What have you not? I am sorry for sc.r.a.ping the floor, but it is perfectly fine." Pointing to the tile underneath her feet, she realized that she was just like it. Far more durable than she looked, yet deceptively fragile. Hard to keep in perfect condition, but no worse for the wear even after a couple of hard sc.r.a.pes.

"See? It is just fine," she repeated.

Her mother looked on the verge of tears. "Penny, what is wrong with you?"

"Not a thing." Not a thing, not anymore. As she carried her breakfast dishes to the counter, she knew that, at least, was the honest truth. For once she was becoming the type of person she used to dream she would be. She was making plans. If she made mistakes, they would be hers, too. "I'll help you with the breakfast dishes, and then I'll be on my way."

"If you're going to act like such an ungrateful girl, don't bother with the dishes," her father warned. "You just might as well leave."

His words sounded so final, she looked at him carefully. "I can go right now."

"Oh, Penny, why are you doing this to us? You can't go. Not like this," her mother pleaded. "This is your home."

After taking one last long look at her parents and seeing the combined dismay and anger lurking in their eyes, Penny realized that everything between them was now forever changed.

She'd refuted their decisions. Past events and hurts that they'd all carefully kept buried for years were now out in the open, and in some ways just as painful now as they had been then. She couldn't go back to how things were even if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to do that. Not at all.

Therefore, she did the only thing she could do. She went upstairs to bide her time.

In two days, at a quarter to ten on Monday morning, she would open the front door and walk outside.

All in order to find herself-even if she wasn't exactly sure which road to take . . . or where it might lead.

CHAPTER 5.

On Sat.u.r.day night, Michael's parents insisted on holding a family meeting in his room at the Orange Blossom Inn. Michael had not supported this idea. Actually, he had argued against it. Forcefully. He was a grown man and could make his own decisions. The last thing he wanted was to have his life and health determined by his siblings and parents. Moreover, he really was in no hurry to have this discussion after being poked and prodded in the emergency room for the last twenty-four hours. He was tired, frustrated, and in considerable pain.

Dr. Barnes, the surgeon on call, had examined his knee when he'd arrived Friday night and recommended surgery as soon as possible. His knee was in sad shape-as if Michael needed to be told that. His prosthesis should have been adjusted months ago, and its increasingly poor fit had created a lot of irritation and a sizable infection. They'd tentatively scheduled the surgery for the following Friday.

Now, finally back in bed at the inn, surrounded by his family, he was crankier than ever. And while he was grateful for their love and concern, all he wanted to do at the moment was sleep. For the next two days. He'd even make do with the next eight hours.

"Michael," his father began, worry s.h.i.+ning in his eyes, "there's something that needs to be said, and I fear it's going to be hard to hear."

"And what is that?"

"We've come to some decisions, you see."

Actually, he did not see. "About what?"

Looking just as pained, his mother continued. "Evan, Molly, your daed, and I had quite a bit of time to sit together in the waiting room." Shooting Michael a chiding look, she added, "Lots and lots of time, since you wouldn't allow any of us in the exam area with ya."

"I'm twenty-five years old, Mother. Far too old to be getting my hand held at a doctor's visit."

Besides, he'd been in a small room wearing only a thin cotton smock, which-no matter how hard he'd tried-he couldn't seem to tie tightly enough to completely cover him. It had been bad enough to sit there so exposed to doctors and nurses. No way had he been about to sit there like that in front of his family, too.

Evan grunted. "It was far more than a mere doctor's visit and you know it."

"We've been really worried," Molly grumbled as if he'd just pulled her hair. "Don't make light of it."

"Sorry."

"It's all right." She looked at their father again, obviously waiting for him to make his big announcement.

Which was obviously only a mystery to him.

His fight for patience ended. "Can we simply get to the point? What did you all talk about?"

"We discussed the rest of our tour," Evan blurted.

"I know the schedule," he said wearily. "What happened? Did someone cancel one of the bookings?"

"Nee, dear. Nothing like that. . . ." His mother's voice drifted off.

The back of his neck started tingling as he realized that they were struggling to tell him something important. Pressing his hands down on the bed, he worked to pull himself up. "What is it?"

"We didn't want to have this discussion without you, son. But when we got the news, we felt we had no choice."

The news. The news that something was wrong with his right leg. What was left of it. "What happened?"

"Nothing too terrible."

That was evasive maneuvering if he'd ever heard it.

"Just. Tell. Me."

"You have a fair bit of an infection, Michael. The skin is raw and in a bad way. After your surgery on Friday, Dr. Barnes says that you're going to need to stay off of it for at least two weeks."

Like that was going to happen. He knew how jam-packed their timetable was. Even if they juggled a couple of the dates, there was no way they could completely rearrange things to free up two solid weeks. "I won't need two weeks. I bet three days' recovery will be more than enough."

His mother sat on the edge of his bed. "Nee, Michael."

"Actually, we don't think even two weeks is going to be adequate time," his father added.

"Of course it will be. Besides, it's not like we have a choice." Mentally reviewing their itinerary, he said, "We're scheduled to speak in New York City on Monday. It's been planned for a year. We can't cancel."

Evan nodded. "I agree."

"Okay, then. So it's settled."

"It is settled, Michael," Daed announced. "But we've also decided that you are going to stay here and the four of us are going to continue on tour."

His stomach dropped. "Pardon?"

After exchanging glances with his father, his mother said, "Son, Evan called Jeremiah Miller. He's agreed to come with us in your place."

He blinked, hearing the words but not really processing them. "You asked Jeremiah to take my place?"

"He's a wonderful speaker," Molly said, a strong note of apology in her voice. "His stories about surviving that robbery always gives everyone chills."

"He is inspiring, for sure." Michael liked Jeremiah a lot. He considered him a friend. But he wasn't thrilled about the man replacing him.

He was even less thrilled about being left behind.

His mother continued. "Your father and I spoke with Beverly this morning. She's going to give us a special rate while you stay here for the month."

A month? A whole month? "That's ridiculous! I will not need to stay here that long."

"The doctors seem to think differently."

"Nee, the doctors said two weeks."

"They said you need to rest for two weeks, preferably without your prosthesis. While you were getting your prescriptions filled and being discharged this morning, we talked to them about our tour schedule. Dr. Barnes took us into his office for a conference call with Dr. Collins back in Denver."

Dr. Collins was the surgeon who had performed his amputation. "You had this call without me?"

"You were hooked up to the IV," Evan said unhelpfully. "Remember, you were on some pretty strong pain relievers this morning."

Michael looked down at his hands clenched in his lap so he wouldn't be forced to admit that he didn't remember much about being at the hospital.

Too afraid to dwell on that, he bit out, "And what did Dr. Collins say?"

"Well, it was amazing, really," his mother said in a sweet, singsong voice. "They were able to send the pictures and scans they did of your leg right there on the computer."

"And?"

"And Dr. Collins was in complete agreement with what Dr. Barnes and his team recommended," his father said. "Of course we cannot schedule any of this without your approval, but we hope you will agree that this is the right choice to make. The surgery will help alleviate some of the pain of your scar tissue. But the plain and simple truth is that your knee has been under a lot of stress, son. It needs a good rest. Your prosthesis needs to be adjusted, maybe replaced. And if we don't do something to stop the damage that is happening now, there's a mighty good chance you're going to make things even worse."

Suddenly it seemed as if all the air had been pulled out of his lungs. "You all are acting as if I've already agreed to this."

After a moment, his father sat down next to Michael's hip. "I know this is difficult, son. I'm sorry for that, too."

It was on the tip of Michael's tongue to say that no, they had no earthly idea how difficult this news was to hear, but then something his mother had said caught his attention. "When are you all planning to leave?"

"Some of us will be leaving in a couple of hours."