Summer In Iron Springs (12 page)

             
“Guess you’re a country girl at heart,” Billy said, looking her over from head to toe. “Let me guess, Jenna picked those out?” He motioned his hand toward her jeans.

             
Phoebe nodded. “Do you like them?”

             
Billy made a show of putting his hand to his chin and studying her. “Turn around,” he said, making a twirling motion with his finger.

             
Phoebe rolled her eyes and spun around one time.

             
Billy smiled, “Yes, I like them a lot. But, mostly I like you.” He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. “You could wear a burlap sack and you’d look good.”

             
Phoebe laughed. “Well, you won’t catch me wearing a burlap sack anytime soon.” She glanced down at her outfit. “This is far enough out of my comfort zone.”

The jeans—although she had to admit they looked good on her—were definitely not something she would have chosen without Jenna’s prodding. They were snug—but not skin tight—with a white barbed wire design on the back pockets. And the top—Jenna practically had to force Phoebe to try it on had been “skeleton washed”—whatever that means—which gave it a faded black appearance. On the front, amidst the sparkling rhinestones, the words
Country Tuff
; named after the boutique Jenna talked her into visiting, were printed in a curly script.

“Come with me.” Billy led her to an open spot on the dance floor and held her hand as he showed her how to do the two-step. “Just follow me and you’ll pick it up quickly.” He moved easily to the beat of the music. “Sorry I missed you earlier.
Anna said you helped out at the booth.”

             
Phoebe copied his movements and quickly caught on. Each dance had specific steps and the steps repeated so, once she got the hang of it, she was able to follow along without help. “Yeah, Jenna did too. What took you so long at the bank?”

             
“I had to go to three different banks to get enough change. All the banks in town were running out of cash because of the carnival. I guess nobody expected it to be so busy.”

             
When the band announced that they were going to slow things down a bit, Billy took Phoebe in his arms and slowly danced her around the floor. He held one of her hands in his and put his other hand around her waist. He knew the steps so well that his body seemed to move without effort. Phoebe relaxed in his arms and allowed herself to float through the dance, wrapped up in his embrace.

             
“Have I ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?” Billy whispered in her ear.

             
“Thanks,” Phoebe said, gazing into his eyes. “And yes you have, but a girl can never get too many compliments.”

             
“Do you want to get some air?” Billy asked once the song ended. “It’s hot in here.”

             
Phoebe fanned her face with her hand. It was too noisy to even try to communicate so she nodded and allowed Billy to take her hand and lead her toward the exit.

             
“That was fun,” he said, once his ears had stopped ringing. “You’re a fast learner.”

             
“Thanks, you’re a good teacher.”

             
Billy led her to a small wooden bench that was far enough away from the barn that they could talk without having their words drowned out by the music. “Let’s sit here for a minute.” He waited for her to sit down before taking a seat beside her.

             
The night air was crisp and it smelled wonderful. Phoebe gazed into the beautiful clear sky. She loved to watch the stars as they twinkled and moved about.

             
Billy picked up a strand of her hair and held it between his fingers. “You look really pretty tonight.”

             
Phoebe blushed, and her gaze went to the pebble-covered ground. Billy placed his fingers beneath her chin and gently lifted it until his eyes met hers. Her heart beat wildly and her body tensed the way it always did when Billy was about to kiss her. He leaned in—his eyes were glued to hers and all that surrounded them seemed to vanish. In that moment, they were the only two people on earth. Phoebe closed her eyes and their lips met as they shared a delicate, tender kiss.

             
When the kiss was over, thunderous explosives began bursting in the sky above them and they both erupted in laughter at the ironic timing of the fireworks show. Phoebe leaned into Billy and enjoyed the brilliant colors that lit up the night sky while she reveled in the after effects of the kiss. She was exactly where she wanted to be, with Billy—the first boy she’d ever . . . loved? Do I love Billy? This sure feels like love
.
Beneath the starry night sky, she considered the question. She could still feel his kiss on her lips and she hoped the feeling would never leave. She glanced at Billy. He was gazing into the sky. She relaxed her head on his shoulder and smiled. It had been a perfect day.

Nine

Phoebe awoke Sunday morning to a quiet, empty house. It had been a peaceful night filled with images of the night before; images of Billy, of dancing with him and kissing him. She sat up and rubbed her eyes as she looked forward to a quiet day.

Anna
and the others were at church. Billy tried to talk her into coming but she didn’t want to. She got up, filled the bathtub with hot water and soaked until her fingers and toes were wrinkly. After dressing in her comfortable jeans and a cotton t-shirt, she went downstairs and settled into the chair behind her aunt’s desk. She dialed her dad’s cell phone number and, when his voicemail came on, she left a message letting him know she’d call later.

She pressed the power button to start the computer. Other than looking for help with the locations of the subjects in her mother’s paintings, and checking her email, she hadn’t spent any time on the computer. Back home, she spent hours a day on Facebook, checking email, and visiting websites. Even though she didn’t really care all that much, she decided to check email to see if anyone back home had written to her. While she waited for the computer to boot up, she tapped her fingers on the large wooden desk.

I wonder how she ever finds anything.
She wondered as she glanced at the items cluttering the top of Anna’s desk. Stacks of papers and files brimming with more papers covered almost the entire surface. She opened one of the drawers and peered through the files. “No wonder she has to grow so many apples.” She said in response to the hundreds of individual files that filled the drawer labeled with the word
Customers
. She closed that drawer and opened another—more files. There was a file that held warranties, one for bank statements and many others all neatly marked with a label indicating its contents. Phoebe fingered through them until she came to one that had
Bessie Levick
written on the tab. She stared at it for a long moment. After glancing toward the door, she lifted the file out of the drawer and set it on the desk before her. She blew out a heavy breath and opened the file. On top of a pile of documents was a large Ziploc bag full of photographs. She set it to the side. A quick glance at the clock in the bottom right corner of the computer monitor told her that she still had about thirty minutes before Anna would be home from church.

Unless she comes home early
.
The thought caused a brief internal debate over whether or not she had the right to snoop through Anna’s things. Anna wouldn’t mind if I look at this—after all, it has my mother’s name on it. And besides, she told me to make myself at home. She flipped through a stack of papers that dealt with life insurance and funeral plans. Leaning back in the chair and propping her feet up on the desk, she laid the file across her lap and continued examining its contents.

“What’s this?” Phoebe spoke the words aloud when she saw her mother’s death certificate. Her eyes watered as she read the words printed on the record. She scanned it for a moment before her eyes stopped at the box where it said “Immediate cause of death”.

             
“This has to be a mistake.” She muttered. Her heart slowed and her breathing stopped. In an attempt to make sense of what she was seeing, she read the words aloud, “Fractured Skull?” Her mind was spinning. She reviewed the contents of the file again. A story clipped from the newspaper had the headline “Local Woman Murdered.”

             
“Murder?” The word hung in the air like an awful odor. Phoebe felt sick to her stomach—like she just walked into someone else’s life. My mother died of cancer, not from a skull fracture. It was a disease and not murder that took her life.

             
The article, cut from the Iron Springs Post, described the events of the day her mother had died:

Mr. Levick states that he left his home at two in the afternoon and returned approximately an hour later. He reports that the front door was open, several pieces of jewelry were missing and his wife, Bessie Levick, was found unresponsive at the bottom of a set of cement stairs. Mr. Levick admits to having had an argument with his wife prior to leaving the couple’s home and states that it was a minor disagreement. So far, no suspects have been arrested and Mr. Levick remains the only person of interest in the case.

              The article dropped from Phoebe’s hand and fluttered to the floor. Her body went numb. She repeated the words aloud. “Mr. Levick remains the only person of interest.” Phoebe couldn’t begin to process the statement. They think my dad killed my mom?

             
Having no idea how much time had passed, Phoebe was brought back to the present when the front door swung open.

“I bet you boys are starving,”
Anna said. “I’ll get lunch on the table.”

             
“We’ll be out back enjoying the sunshine,” Norm said. His loud laughter boomed through the house.

Phoebe grabbed the bag of pictures and hid it beneath her shirt. She left the open file on the desk and hurried from the room. The reality of what she had learned was beginning to sink in and she was in shock. There were so many unanswered questions, so many lies, and so much deceit. She was frantic to get away. Everyone had lied to her. She wondered how much Billy knew. Had he been lying to her?
Anna hadn’t told her the truth and she had plenty of chances to. She ran out the front door and kept running until she could run no more; until her side ached and her legs gave out. She buckled over and clutched her side. Her tears started flowing and she made no attempt to control them. She fell to the ground and cried as the reality of what she had just learned sank in. How could he have lied to me about how my mother died? How could he not tell me that he was suspected in her murder?

As she
lay on the ground, tears falling from her eyes, something touched her cheek and she jumped.

“Bandit.” She wrapped her arms around him. “You shouldn’t have followed me.” She checked him over, he was
panting and exhausted. “I’m so sorry you had to run all this way.” She knew it was painful for him to just walk. For some reason, he’d decided he was her dog. And that was okay with her. “Come on,” she said. “We’ll take it slow.”

A gentle drizzle fell from the sky and within minutes, the sky darkened and the light rain turned into a fierce storm. In no time, Phoebe was drenched. She wouldn’t go back to
Anna’s so she needed to find a place to wait out the storm before deciding what to do next. She took a quick look around before hurrying to the bank of the river where the trees provided a little shelter from the storm. Eventually, she came to an old bridge. Cautiously, she stepped one foot onto it. Once she determined that it was safe and that she was not likely to take an unwanted tumble into the water below, she and Bandit hurried to the other side.

             
Hidden in the trees, she spotted an old run down cabin. “Come on Bandit,” she said, hurrying toward the cabin. She took a quick glance around the grounds. The place appeared to be abandoned; there was nothing outside but an empty clothesline and a small circle of rocks. They made their way to the porch and crouched down in the corner of the tiny entry way. Even with Bandit there to snuggle up to her, the spot provided almost no protection from cold, wet, beating storm. Rain beat down on her from every direction. After considering her options, she stood up and gave a loud knock on the door. No answer. Cautiously, she turned the rusty knob and slowly pushed the door open. She peered inside at the tiny one-room structure—it was empty. She ushered Bandit inside, then went inside herself and closed the door. She fell to the floor and sat with her back to the door as her tears started to flow again. Bandit sat beside her and rested his head in her lap.

Fractured Skull
.
The words on the death certificate played over and over in her mind. Was it possible that her dad had lied to her for her entire life? Maybe there had been a mistake when they’d recorded the death certificate. But, what about the story in the newspaper? It said her mother had been murdered.

             
As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, she took a long look around. Firewood was piled neatly beside a black wood burning stove. A wooden dresser was situated next to a twin bed and a lopsided table sat in the center of the room. Judging from the dust that had accumulated on the furniture, the place hadn’t been used in a long time. Cob webs were strung from one end of the place to the other and there was a musty, stale odor in the air.

             
Phoebe stood up and rung the water from her hair before removing her shoes and socks. She wished she had some dry clothes to change into but she was thankful she had at least found shelter. She sat in a chair at the small table and pulled the bag of photos from her waistband. Before opening it, she rubbed her hands along the plastic bag to remove as much water as possible. When she opened it, she was thankful the pictures had stayed dry.

             
She looked through the stack of photos over and over again. Despite her sadness, a smile came over her face as she stared at a picture of her mother with a big pregnant belly. She rejoiced at the happiness she saw in Bessie’s beautiful face. There was also a copy of the picture that her dad kept on his nightstand; the one of Bessie on her wedding day. She stared at the picture for a long while. She looked into her mother’s eyes and saw nothing but pure happiness. She smiled as she examined the stunning wedding gown—and then she noticed something . . . the cameo. “My mother’s cameo!”