Page 61 of Where It All Began
She paced past the doorway again, staring straight ahead. The smile was gone.
“I’ll call him back first thing in the morning and let you know what happens, okay?”
John kicked at the dusty wall trim and, for the first time ever, regretted his choices.
“I love you, too, Mom. Give my love to Dad.”
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Phoebe wolfed down her scrambled eggs and bacon, focusing on the tasks ahead of her for the day. There was the back-breaking, never-ending harvest of zucchini and cucumbers, another coat of paint on the west side of the barn, watering the flower beds, weeding for the zillionth time, and, oh yeah, telling John she had a day to accept a position as a research assistant with the FDA.
Starting in two weeks. In Washington, D.C.
She should be thrilled, ecstatic even. This was the outcome she’d been praying for. And yet she hadn’t been able to say yes to the very dry, very business-like Mr. Ingersol.
She’d almost brought it up at dinner last night, but John had been unusually quiet. His one- and two-word answers had been few and far between. She hoped he wasn’t coming down with a summer cold. There was so much to do before she left. So much time she wanted to spend with him.
John walked into the kitchen, studiously avoiding her gaze. He poured his coffee and snatched a strip of bacon off the plate next to the stove.
So much had changed this summer. And one of those things seemed to be her dreams for the future. Phoebe hadn’t been prepared for this shift. She wasn’t even sure this was real. She’d never been in love before.
She’d lain awake last night for hours thinking about John’s essay on Pierce Acres. No, not just thinking, she corrected herself. She couldseeit as if she were there.
School delays on snow days, Thanksgiving dinners, lazy Sunday afternoons with locusts buzzing in the background and the summer sun coaxing the fields to their full production.
Children and pets and farm animals. Neighbors and friends. Family crowding around the dining room table, which would have chairs by then. What spell had John woven with his words that his future had become her dream? She wasn’t ready for marriage, children, settling down.Was she?
She didn’t know. And she needed some time to think. If she could find another way to get the money for her parents, maybe a job in D.C. didn’t have to be the only answer.
“Morning,” she said, hoping to distract herself with conversation.
John faced her without looking her in the eyes. He had papers in his hand.
He crossed to her, handed them over, and walked back to the stove.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Your thesis. It’s done.”
“You liked it?” She was relieved. It was his second full read-through and her nine millionth draft. John’s opinion carried weight with her, and if he was happy with her hours of labor, then maybe her professors would be, too.
“I don’t have a doctorate, but I think you make your points clearly and succinctly.”
She let out a slow breath, her hands rubbing her eyes. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. I’ve been working on it for so long I was starting to think it was completely shit.”
“It’s not. But what is shit is you wasting your time here, Phoebe. Your paper doesn’t need polishing. It needs to be turned in.” His tone was flat, his eyes dark.
“There are still some areas I want to work on,” she argued. There was some data she wanted to cross-reference, some points she wanted to shore up. A man she wasn’t ready to leave.
But he was shaking his head. “Why are you putting it off?”
“I’m not!”
“You have a perfect, finished thesis. You could have your master’s degree in hand. Why are you sitting at my table?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” she asked.
He met her gaze coolly. “You’re wasting your time here.”
