Page 12 of Where It All Began
Phoebe stormed off the porch and slid behind the wheel of her Triumph. She took a tiny bit of pleasure at sending gravel flying as she tore down the lane. John Pierce wasn’t the only one who could behave like a manner-less asshole.
She turned the wheel toward Blue Moon and let the late afternoon soak into her, hoping it would bake the anger out of her. God, she just needed a break to figure him out. She could crack him. She knew she could. She just hadn’t found the right approach yet. Of course, screaming like a banshee at the man in his own kitchen probably wasn’t her best choice, but he’d deserved it. The lout.
Phoebe reached over and cranked up her radio. This was nothing some good tunes and summer sunshine couldn’t cure. And if that didn’t work, she’d do a little shopping in town. And then when she got back to the farm…
Shit. She didn’t have a key.He’d never offered her one, and though she wasn’t sure John even locked his doors, what would she do if he locked her out? What if he’d just been pushing her to get her out?
“Damn it,” she muttered to herself. If this was it in her relationship with John, her thesis was toast. Which meant she wouldn’t be graduating in August. She’d need to track down another first-generation farmer and spendanothersemester researching, writing, polishing. By the time she graduated, the research stations position with the PA Department of Agriculture would have gone to someone else and her parents’ house would be in foreclosure.
She could kiss her best laid plans good-bye if something didn’t magically change in the next thirty minutes.
She turned onto Main Street and pulled into a parking space in front of a sprawling tri-level brick building. The sign said McCafferty’s Farm Supply. She got out of the car and studied her options. She was in no mental state to browse farm supplies. The bakery was tempting as always, but it was the pay phone in the park that pulled her. She desperately needed to hear a friendly voice.
Phoebe emptied her change purse and fed the requisite quarters into the phone. It rang twice before Phoebe was rewarded with her sister’s cheerful greeting.
“Hey, Rose.”
“Oh, man. What’s wrong?” her sister demanded.
Phoebe smiled even as her eyes filled with tears. “I miss you. Is that a crime?”
“No seriously, what’s going on? How’s the whole farm thing going?”
“It’s like not going at all,” Phoebe confessed. “I can’t crack this guy. And I need this—weneed this—so bad. I’m feeling desperate.”
Her sister hmm-ed on her end. “What are you going to do?” Rose knew better than to offer Phoebe advice. They both were well-aware of the fact that Phoebe was the headstrong one, the sister who jumped first and worried about consequences after the fact. The sister who ignored well-meaning advice like it was background noise.
“I don’t know. I basically just screamed at him and drove off in a childish but very satisfying temper tantrum.” Phoebe rested her head on the foggy plastic surrounding the phone. “How’s Dad doing?” she asked, changing the subject.
“The doctors seem pleased with his progress. But, as we guessed, going back to work is out of the question. I honestly don’t see him ever going back.” Phoebe could picture Rose sitting on the stool in her kitchen twirling the phone cord around her finger.
“What’s Mom doing for money?”
“She picked up another cleaning job. I got a part-time gig at a restaurant downtown across from the office. We’re getting by.”
Phoebe drummed her fingers on the shelf under the phone. “I promise you, the second I graduate, every cent I have is going to pay off that medical debt.”
“You focus on your thesis and graduation. We’ve got this for now,” Rose promised her.
Phoebe would. And she’d do whatever it took to graduate on time and start supporting her family the way they’d supported her. “It just sucks that you had to get a second job.”
She could hear Rose’s shrug. “Eh, it’s not so bad. Keeps me from having to move back in with Mom and Dad,andI met a guy at the restaurant.”
Phoebe perked up. Rose was famously picky when it came to men. “What’s his name? How did you meet him? What’s he like?”
“Is this how you’re interrogating your farmer because I think you’re doing it wrong,” Rose quipped.
“Ugh. Just tell me about the guy.”
“His name is Melvin, and he’s an auditor. And I don’t want to say any more and jinx it, so I’m changing the subject. Have you broken the news to Mom and Dad that you’re staying with a hot single man all by your virginal self this summer?”
“First off, I’m no more a virgin than you are, and secondly, God, no! They’d have had a cow and never would have let me if they’d known.”
“Where do they think you are?”
“I’m on afamilyfarm,” Phoebe insisted. The crux of her lie relied on not expanding on how large or small that family was. “Technically it’s their fault for not asking more questions.”
“Yeah, let me know how that defense holds up,” Rose snorted.
