by Sara Jolene
Phoebe paced in front of the window. She couldn’t imagine the lake not being there, or rather, her not being able to be there. It was part of her fabric; the water, the leaves, the chirps of the birds on her windowsill. She loved it all. She loved the other part of her life, though, too. She liked the thrill of the courtroom, trying to nail down what types of people those on the jury were. Finding the holes in people’s stories and filling them with the most likely version of the truth. That was one of the first things she’d learned about her job, the truth stood separate from everything and everyone else. Once it touched something, it became tainted and twisted into a version of its original self. One person’s truth often times differed completely from another’s, even if the raw material was identical.
Which brought her thinking right back to Jarred. She wondered what his truth was. They both knew what had actually happened under those bleachers. They also both knew what had happened when they’d come out from under them, but that was where the story got fuzzy. She became a different person that day. Gone was shy and quiet, studious Phoebe, and born was angry, hidden, but still studious Phoebe. To most people, there probably wasn’t much difference in her behavior, but she knew. Jarred had kept his head down and away from her for the rest of that year. The few times they’d run into each other were awkward and caused the rage to, once again, bubble inside her chest. Then he’d gone away to college, leaving her and her tarnished reputation behind.
That was the thing about high school; when you’re there and in it, you feel like it will never end, but once you’re on the other side, you realize just how insignificant the whole thing was. Which was why Phoebe got so angry with herself about Jarred. He shouldn’t matter. He was part of then.
“Are you ever going to tell me what this guy did? It’s obvious you two have a history. I’m really surprised after all the time we’ve spent together and all the things we’ve shared that I know nothing about him.” She laughed, but not because she thought it was funny. “I’m actually a little hurt.”
There it was. Phoebe knew that was coming. Talking about that part of her life had been hard. Her world then was so divided from her world now that sometimes it was easier to pretend it didn’t exist. “I know. I’m sorry. I swear it’s not because I didn’t want you to know. It’s because I try to forget about it. It was so long ago, and it shouldn’t matter.”
“And yet here we are and it matters. You can’t run from your past, Phoe.”
Phoebe sighed and continued to pace in front of the window. She was thinking through a response that wouldn’t make her look like a fool when her toe caught on a plank in the floor. “Ouch!” she hollered into the phone and hopped on one foot.
“What’s wrong? Did you punch something?” Jess laughed heartily this time.
“No. Dang it. I stubbed my toe.”
“…Oh. Well, that’s not as funny.”
Phoebe bent down to examine the spot. Where two of the wood planks came together, one side was markedly raised compared to the other. She ran her hand over it. “I think the floor is buckling. I might have to see if I can find a carpenter.”
Jess laughed again. “Why don’t you see if Mr. Hunky architect could help you out? I mean, he is just across the lake.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Maybe I will. I gotta go, Jess. I’ll call you tomorrow after my briefing.”
“Wait… That’s it? I don’t get to hear any of the story? Nothing! You’re just going to leave me hanging.”
Now it was Phoebe’s turn to laugh. “Ya. I guess I am. For a little while, anyway.” She laughed once more and ended the call with a long exhale. She smiled to herself and tossed her phone on top of the table, where it slid and knocked the stack of papers onto the floor. She kneeled down to pick them up and almost got hit in the face with the lifted floor plank. She held the piece of wood up so it wouldn’t fall and tried to jimmy it out of its spot. Maybe if she took it to the hardware store, they could tell her how best to secure it. After a good couple of pulls, she got the board out, causing a cloud of dust to puff up in her face, but once the dust settled, she was faced with a whole new quandary. There, below the floorboards, was a box. It was beautifully painted with flowers and topiaries.
Phoebe hesitated but lifted the dust-coated box from its resting place, setting it on the floor in front of her. She held her breath and lifted the lid.
Four
November 10, 1902
Dear Lorraine,
Arizona is far from what I expected. It’s wild, sure, but not quite in the way I thought. The train ride was an adventure, not unlike the one we had coming to America. I miss you and Milo and Adele a great deal, but I am happy here with Felix.
The ranch is really a farm at this point, and we have had little luck finding out about Seamus yet, but it’s only been two days. Felix is learning his way around the ranch and getting to know the hands.
I’ll write more when time allows. I hope you and yours are all doing well.
Yours,
Charlotte
Phoebe had opened and read the first letter she found in the box. It was full to spilling over with letters and notes, all handwritten and all seemingly to or from her ancestors through the years. She ended up sitting on the floor for hours, reading through the delicate pieces of paper. Some of the ink had faded but very little. She was thrilled to find two journals at the bottom of the box, one that she discovered to be Lorraine Murphy’s and the other Adele Mellon’s.
She was so engrossed in her task, she’d ignored her phone and her rumbling stomach for long enough that both were protesting and demanding her attention. Phoebe tucked the letters back into the box gently and left the board up from the floor but kept the journals with her. Setting them on the table, she picked up her phone. She had five texts from Jess, three from her intern, and a missed call from Jarred.
She read and responded to all her texts, mostly emojis and GIFs to Jess expressing her displeasure in the turn of their conversation earlier that afternoon, before tossing it back to the table. And despite her knowing it was childish, she held firm in her resolve. Being irritated with Jarred was easier, so she didn’t listen to his voicemail. She wasn’t ready to hear anything he had to say. Her stomach kicked up its grumbling, so she pulled ingredients from the fridge to make a salad.
Sitting down with her computer and the giant salad she’d assembled for dinner, she set to work on reading through all the information that Melanie had sent over. Not long into the first briefing, there was a knock on the door. Startled, she tried not to choke on a carrot as she got up and went to the door. Spitting and sputtering from lack of air, she pulled it open, only to once again swallow wrong at the sight of the last person she wanted to see standing in her doorway. She immediately started to shut the door. He put a hand in and stopped it. “We need to talk,” he told her as she turned and walked into the house and away from him.
Jarred followed Phoebe back to the dinning room, where it became immediately clear that she’d been using the table as a desk and had turned the room into a makeshift office. There were papers everywhere. He looked from the table to her and back again. “What on earth?”
“I’m working. What do you want?” Phoebe stood at the head of the table, her hands on her hips, staring at him.
“We should talk.”
She shook her head. “No. Actually, we shouldn’t. I heard enough from you earlier today. If you want someone to talk to, may I suggest you give Jackie a call? We both know how well she does that.” Her irritation had gotten the better of her. Jarred could see it. Her face was flushed, and her fingers were tapping quickly on her hipbones.
Jarred took a chance and stepped toward her. “Please, Phee… I don’t want things to be like this.” He swallowed and took another step, which brought him physically closer, though he knew the leap he was about to take with his words might spread the chasm between them to infinite depths. “Your grandmother would want us to.”
Her hands came flying off h
er hips, and she began waving them around furiously. “No. I can’t. I can’t believe you would… No. Just no.”
He could see the flames in her eyes from across the long table. He was a little shocked but not afraid, well, not until she growled.
“Grrrr… No. First, no. You do not. Never call me that. You don’t get to. Ugh!” She was pacing now. Thankfully sporadically, so he didn’t think she would leap at him quite yet. “And Gram… Nope. I don’t think so. You might have been here for the last few months, but that doesn’t mean…” She stopped and focused on him. She stalked closer. He could feel heat pulsing off her body. He’d really struck a nerve. She was very wound up and not in control of herself, and despite everything in his head that was telling him he was an idiot and should back away, the other part, the part that was growing louder with each step she took, kept reminding him how sexy she looked. Like a lioness hunting her prey. She was fierce and bold. Parts of her were burning with rage while other parts simmered. Passion was passion whether it came from love or hate.
Jarred swallowed hard as she got so close he could smell her. She had a unique scent. One that had imbedded itself in his mind since that very first day he’d taken her home. His car had been filled with it. It had been a week before he’d been able to bring himself to roll the windows down. She was right in front of him now. So close he could almost taste her. It wasn’t enough. He swallowed again and watched her lips as she got right in his face.
“You. Do. Not. Talk. To. Me. About. Gram.” She paused, and he almost made his move. “Ever,” she finished.
Jarred searched her eyes with his own. Hers were full of fury and fire, flames that were licking at his skin as she directed her rage at him. Almost without thinking, he lifted his hands to her arms, trapping them against her body.
“Wha—?”
He pulled her against him tightly and swiftly, before she could finish, and covered her mouth with his. He wasn’t gentle. But neither was she. Jarred kissed her hard, sweeping his tongue across her lips. She sighed against him as she opened for him. He lifted her off the floor and pushed her back against the wall where the flames consumed them and the past between them.
Jarred pulled away slightly, just enough for them each to breathe but not their own air. His breaths were coming heavy, and his chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to regain his composure. He was waiting for Phoebe to freak out and start hitting him or berating him, but instead, when he looked into her eyes, they were darting around, seemingly unable to focus on anything at all.
“Can we talk now?”
Phoebe stared at him as he set her slowly back on her feet and released her arms. She shook her head. “You need to go.”
Jarred searched her eyes for something, anything that would tell him how she was feeling or what she was thinking. He was desperate, he’d been desperate when he’d gotten there, but now that he’d gotten close to her again, he knew he was lost. He had been determined to make things right so he could forget about her and move one. He’d convinced himself that he hadn’t been able to have a stable adult relationship because of the guilt he felt for what he did, or rather, didn’t do to Phoebe in high school. But now he knew better. He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind or stop comparing other women to her because there weren’t supposed to be other women. She was it. He had to fix things now, not just because it was the right thing to do and to clear his conscience, but to get her back. That kiss had shaken him to his core, changed everything he’d thought about himself in less than five minutes. That kind of thing didn’t happen for no reason.
Mrs. Sullivan had been an eclectic woman. She had told all sorts of outlandish stories about energies and chakras. She believed in things that other people thought were crazy at best, or hoodoo at worst. She listened to the wind and sang to her herb plants. She’d taught Jarred how to listen to his body, not just his mind. She’d taught him to sort his thoughts and which ones to listen to and which ones to ignore. There was no way for him to ignore what had just happened, and there was no way he would let her do it either. “I’m not leaving. Not now. We need to talk about this.”
Phoebe shook her head. She caught his eyes and held him captive as she softened. “We will. Not now.”
“Phee… I mean Phoebe… please.” He reached his hands back up to her arms and held them there. He leaned in and kissed her again. This time with less anger and more abandon. Her lips were soft, and she tasted exactly as she had that very first time, like strawberry with a hint of peppermint. He wondered if it was lip-gloss or something else she’d worn that made her taste that way. Jarred moved his hands around to her back as he deepened the kiss and she lifted her arms around his neck. He pressed his one hand in the middle of her back. She felt small and fragile in his arms. His hand spread almost the width of her back, fitting perfectly in the arch as he pulled her against his body.
Phoebe leaned back, panting. “Not now…” Jarred stayed still while she searched his eyes. He wasn’t sure what she found there, but he leaned in one last time, placing a soft and gentle kiss on her heated lips before she pushed him away and headed straight back to her spot at the table.
Phoebe waited for Jarred to leave, listening for the door to close before she slumped head first onto the table. Everything she’d been screaming internally in the moment flowed relentlessly from her mouth. “How? Why? Never should have let that happen. You’re stronger than that, Phoebe! He has no power over you anymore. You can’t fall victim again. He doesn’t really want you. You cannot let this happen.” She closed her fists into balls and squeezed them tightly. Her nails dug into her palms. No. It was one kiss…or three. But who was counting? It didn’t have to be earth shattering or life changing; she could let it be just what it was. A kiss, or a few. She sat up and exhaled. She needn’t be so hard on herself; it was something she was working on. She had such high expectations that sometimes, on the rare occasion that she didn’t behave exactly the way she’d wanted to, she had a hard time letting it go. She had a hard time not replaying it and punishing herself with it, actually.
She took several deep breaths before she squared her shoulders and focused back on her computer screen. She had a lot to do to get ready for her briefing in the morning. She really should be back in Philly for this one. She sighed again. She’d be there the day after. She’d meet with Alex one more time the next afternoon and then pack her things and leave the next morning. She’d spend the week in Philly and the weekends at the lake. She looked up and out the window at the water. She watched for a few moments, letting the ripples capture her thoughts and carry them across its surface, away from her tired mind. Turning back to her task, the stack of letters on the end of the table caught her attention. Maybe she’d bring some back with her. She could read them between things at the office. She shook her head. She wouldn’t have time for that type of thing. She’d be working more hours in the next few days than she had in a very long time. She had a court date to prepare for. Phoebe picked up her fork and went back to her dinner and her work, old letters forgotten and Jarred Holton and his fiery kisses pushed to the back of her mind.
Five
Phoebe sat in the same chair she’d sat in the day before. The office was so different from hers. There were only five chairs in the lobby, and the small, mousy girl behind the desk looked as if she’d be eaten alive if she took one step into Phoebe’s Philly world. She’d asked the young girl to let Alex know she was there more than ten minutes ago, and she’d been sitting, her leg swinging in irritated circles, balancing on the bent knee of her other leg, ever since. She walked herself through the conversation she would have with Alex when he finally came out. She would tell him how she was prepared to fight the new will and that she was not accepting Jarred having any ownership or input into the lake property at all. Alex needed to find her a way out, or she’d find it herself.
That thought was a little calming. Phoebe knew she had her whole firm behind her, and if anyone could make sense of the type of proper
ty law that was involved, it would be Helen. Helen had been with Outman, Hamlin, and Burrows for almost twenty years, and she knew every nook and cranny there was. She also knew Alex would know her. She had clients scattered throughout the state, and a small town like Montrose was no exception. Alex’s door swung wide, and to Phoebe’s annoyance and surprise, Bridget Melbourne walked out.
Bridget was the lesser of the two evils that were the Melbourne twins. She would occasionally try to reign in her wicked sister, but it didn’t work very often. The two of them had never been seen without the other throughout high school. They even shared boyfriends, which Phoebe had always found to be the epitome of weird, but she had just rolled her eyes and walked away. It seemed, though, that between the size of Montrose and the situation she would no longer be able to avoid talking to either of them.
Phoebe stood, picking her bag up from the floor. “Bridget! How wonderful it is to see you.” She plastered on her fakest, happiest smile.
Bridget opened her arms and walked Phoebe into them. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. She was a great lady.”
Phoebe was choking on a combination of cheap perfume and overly sprayed, bleached hair that crunched against her mouth as Bridget squeezed her. She tried to talk, but it all came out muffled. Bridget laughed a little and released her. “Sorry! I get carried away sometimes.”
Phoebe straightened her blouse and smoothed her skirt. “It’s no bother.” She looked between Alex and Bridget. “Thank you for taking the time to see me again today.”
Alex nodded. “Bridget, I’ll see you later.” He nodded toward Phoebe. “Come on in.”
Phoebe returned his nod but spoke to Bridget. “Thank you for your condolences. Gram was thrilled with the way you and Jackie ran the salon.” She left her with a small smile before turning into Alex’s office, but the look on the other woman’s face when she’d mentioned the salon had been worrisome. Had the Melbourne twins forgotten that Gram actually owned the salon they ran? She shook her head. There was no way they could have. They paid rent. That would hardly be a payment one could forget about.
