Page 55 of Where It All Began
“When two of those punk-ass Karlinski kids took Carson’s tractor for a joy ride through downtown before parking it in the creek. And back to Phoebe.” Hazel pointed pistol fingers in her direction.
“Stupid town and stupid people wanting to know everything,” Phoebe muttered.
“Yeah, not so fun now is it, smarty pants?” Hazel’s grin was sharp. “Spill it, sister.”
So Phoebe did over another glass of wine and more pretzels.
“Well, that sucks. What about you and Farmer Gorgeous out there?” Hazel nodded toward the backyard.
“We’re just temporary. Monogamous but temporary,” she explained.
“You look pretty sad when you say that,” Elvira prodded, her chin in her hand.
Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. I think maybe there’s something in the water in this town. I’m actually not looking forward to leaving.”
She didn’t miss the long look that passed between Elvira and Hazel.
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing, geez. Suspicious much?” Hazel covered.
“You’re still going to be in town for the Sit-In, right?” Elvira asked, glancing at the kitten calendar on the front of her refrigerator.
“The Sit-In?”
Hazel and Elvira shared another look. “Oh, you can’t miss the Sit-In,” Hazel grinned.
“What are you protesting?”
“Nothing,” Elvira laughed. “It’s the anniversary of this one time that the town protested something—”
“The library closing,” Hazel supplied.
“Right, right. Anyway, our sleepy little hippie town hit the news that night for the protest staged at the library. People showed up, hats were passed, and the library stayed open.”
“As the years went on, there weren’t as many things to protest here. So it’s more of a carnival,” Elvira explained. “With handcuffs.”
“Handcuffs?” Phoebe blinked.
“It’s part of the tradition. And we still raise money, though,” Hazel continued. “A different cause every year.”
“What’s this year’s cause,” Phoebe asked.God, what a sweet, kooky little town. It was going to tear a piece of her heart out to leave this ridiculous place.
“As far as I know,” Hazel said breezily, “Mayor Nordemann hasn’t announced it yet. We’re not exactly good at planning around here.”
Chapter Twenty
Phoebe and John let nature take its course in the fields and the bedroom. Long, sweaty days of satisfying work were followed by cool showers and hot nights. The rough edges of Phoebe’s thesis were smoothed out with careful edits as the calluses on her palms hardened from the labor. John took her wading in the creek, picnicking in the fields, and showed her the spot he’d chosen for a pond someday.
She could see it. She could tell John was imagining a family cooling off on hot summer nights in the water. His family. He wanted it, and he’d have it someday soon, she guessed. At least once she was out of his way.
John Pierce was a man who knew what he wanted, and she admired that about him. It made her question some of her own goals. What did she really want beyond settling her parents’ debt? She’d pursued this major because she’d loved those years on her grandparents’ farm. Would settling into the research community really fulfill her?
She’d had an unsettling moment the other night when she and John enjoyed fresh squeezed lemonade on the front porch and debated where he should hang a porch swing. For just a second, she wished that she’d still be here when he hung the swing.
She’d shaken it off and distracted herself by distracting John with an entertaining strip dance on the porch. They’d barely made it inside. He was going to have to burn down the house if he didn’t want a wife facing down memories of Phoebe here.
She was everywhere here. Phoebe cooked while John cleaned up, they wrote together—John still refusing to share with her anything he’d written—and every night they made love until they fell asleep entwined. One day, they went to town for a “few things” and returned with utensils, a casserole dish, new towels, and a second set of sheets. Not that they needed them. Phoebe slept in his bed every night, the sheets usually landing in a tangle on the floor. When John shored up the sagging porch roof, Phoebe weeded and mulched the overgrown flower beds at the front of the house, taking the house from dilapidated to charming.
