Page 6 of Love, Untangled

“It’s time to go home, my dude.”

Home. A thrill of warmth bubbled up from her belly, causing her to grin. She hadn’t had one of those, ever. Well, if you counted the years they’d lived in the camper van, she had. But not since then. Her mother had liked to move often. Like a dandelion into the wind, she’d say with a laugh. Except that hadn’t been fun for Pen. Her mother kept her out of regular school, and making friends proved challenging when Pen would have to leave them in weeks—months if she was lucky.

That was why Pen missed her nana so much. The older woman always reminded Pen of stability and cuddles on the porch swing as they watched the sunset. Pen missed being tucked in at night, and bread and jam at three each afternoon. What she didn’t miss were the fights between her mother and grandmother before each of the crazy drives her mother took her on after bundling a crying Pen into the beater car or camper she’d scrounged, lied, or cheated for. For days afterward, her mother would wake her up from whatever couch or cushioned booth seat Pen had fallen asleep in, in an effort to move farther from Cinnamon Bay and Nana.

With great effort, Pen shook off her mother’s actions as she tugged on the alpaca’s head collar. “Come on.”

This time, Alpaca Man obediently trotted forward. Pen sighed when her fence came into view. Then she scowled. This hole was large—and Pen didn’t possess the best carpentry skills. Fine, she possessed zero carpentry skills. Or culinary skills or ranching skills.

Fiber arts was her passion and her craft, but wood and nails…she knew nothing.

And wanted to know even less.

Alpaca Man ducked, pulling his halter from her fingers, and snagged another apple, which he chomped with relish even as he trotted next to her back toward the dilapidated barn.

“Let’s hope those are good for you. I’m worried about the seeds, at the least. Could you stop freaking me out? You’re supposed to eat grass and hay.”

Pen locked him in his stall, saddened by his lonely existence.

“You need a friend. Besides me.”

Alpaca Man grunted even as he butted at the door.

“Please don’t do that. I need to finish this project. Just…just give me a few hours, okay? Then I’ll come back out here again and we’ll hang out.”

Pen started backing away toward the door, her gaze flashing over to ensure he had water and some not-so-fresh hay Penelope had found heaped in what she’d learned was called a hayloft above the stalls. He made a soft, sad sound as he leaned over the top railing. Giving in, she moved closer again and scratched behind his ears. He closed his eyes, a soft humming noise fluting up his long neck.

“You have to stop this wandering, Alpaca Man. You can’t make all the neighbors hate us, especially when you eat those rather delicious-looking apples.” Pen’s stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t had a chance to eat yet. She pulled out her phone and winced. It was after six in the evening, and she still had a few more hours to go to finish the custom jacket for the commission she needed to mail out tomorrow. She’d hoped to finish it on the drive cross-country, but Alpaca Man had taken up too much space in her car to make that feasible. So here she was with barely any food on her shelves and an empty bank account, thanks to her mother’s thieving. She needed to grab groceries, but she was afraid of running into Leon—and running out of funds.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Seriously, my dude. You have to cut me some slack.”

* * *

Alpaca Man ignored all her pleas. He refused to sleep in the barn, and no amount of her begging would stop his moans and squeals. Pen ended up falling asleep just outside his stall. She woke, bleary-eyed with a crick in her neck, to the alpaca’s head in her lap.

“Ugh. It’s morning. I needed to work on that jacket.”

It wasn’t just morning. It was midmorning, Pen found. On the plus side, her nana was a preserver, so Pen munched on some of the peach preserves she found in the pantry.

“Time for me to work. Be good,” she said as she closed the gate to the outdoor pen.

Alpaca Man cried and Pen tilted her head back, fisting her hands in frustration.

She stomped back toward the paddock and opened it, her frustration mounting. “Fine. I’ll get my loom and work on the porch. Just give me a minute.”

She headed into the house, Alpaca Man on her heels. She shut the door before he made it inside. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she grabbed the loom and headed outside. Alpaca Man grunted when he saw her and eventually trotted down the porch’s three steps to graze in the yard.

Pen lost track of time as she wove the colored yarns into an intricate, bright pattern. She used the shuttle to ensure a constant tension on the strands. The process was painstakingly slow because of its intricacy but it was also beautiful. One of her best works to date. It needed to be. Her buyer owned some boutiques in California—where Pen had found Alpaca Man after meeting with her.

If the woman liked the coat, she might order some of them for her stores, boosting Pen’s income and reputation.

She kept an eye on Alpaca Man, tugging him back when he strayed too close to the neighbor’s fence. When she headed in long enough to eat some more of the preserves in the afternoon, she brought him out a big bowl of water along with a glass for herself. She’d rummaged through the dusty cabinets, thankful the water and electricity were still functioning.

Alpaca Man seemed determined to get into trouble. In the short time she’d been in charge of him, he’d yet to actually listen to a single thing she’d asked of him. Probably because he was an alpaca and couldn’t understand her.

Pen stood, blinking, surprised to find the sun setting over the orchard, elongating the shadows into thick patches of blackness. Penelope shivered, then groaned. Everything was stiff from working the loom so long.

“I need to head inside,” Pen said, raising her head from the loom. Her neck ached but she ignored it, especially when she couldn’t find her pet. “No,” she moaned.

---