Summer In Iron Springs

by Margie Broschinsky

  Phoebe smiled and handed Billy the painting. “So you can always remember that evening we spent here.”

  “Oh, Phoebe.” There was a long pause as Billy stared wide-eyed at the painting. Then, giving Phoebe a heart-melting smile, he added. “This is the best gift I ever got.” He leaned the painting against the tree trunk before pulling Phoebe into a tight embrace. “I love you Phoebe.”

  “I love you too.”

  After a long embrace, Billy looked at his watch. “We better go.”

  “Yeah,” Phoebe said, even though she wasn’t quite ready to face Mike. Her eyes wandered off in the distance and she felt everything around her become quiet. The leaves didn’t rustle, the animals weren’t scurrying, and the air was calm and peaceful.

  “What’s up Feebs?” Billy looked her in the eye. “Are you okay?”

  Phoebe nodded and wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m fine. It’s just. . .” She met Billy’s eyes. “I think I want to. . .” She cleared her throat in an attempt to find her voice. “Will you say a prayer with me before we go?”

  When Billy heard the question, Phoebe watched his face rapidly cycle through a series of emotions; surprise, curiosity, and happiness. “Of course I will.” He smiled. “Would you like me to say it?”

  “I’ll say it.” Phoebe knew it was time for her to start talking to God. She’d learned a great deal about Him and she was sure if there was any time she needed prayer, it was now.

  They knelt on the soft ground and Phoebe asked God to be with her as she went to visit Mike. She prayed that she would know what she should say. And, she asked God to give her faith to believe in Him. As she spoke, the words spilled from her lips in a way that felt completely natural. When the prayer was over, she looked at Billy who was smiling wide.

  “I have never heard a better prayer,” Billy said as they got to their feet. “Now, you’re ready to talk to Mike.”

  Phoebe nodded, swallowed her mounting emotions, and put her hand in Billy’s.

  ***

  What is that awful odor? It smelled like a mixture of disinfectant and death. Phoebe put a hand to her stomach as she followed the prison guard down the long fetid corridor. The white tile floor had been cleaned to a mirror shine and the bare white walls offered nothing to keep her attention off where she was and what she was doing. An eerie quiet gave Phoebe the creeps and she folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to stop her hands from trembling.

  I wish Billy was here. Despite Phoebe’s appeals, she was told that he would need to wait in the lobby. She’d received a short briefing during which she was told that Mike was aware of the nature of her visit and that he was eager to speak with her. She was informed that he had requested to be removed from the morphine that dripped constantly into his veins. Without it, she was cautioned, Mike would be in terrible pain. The thought made her cringe.

  They arrived at a solid steel door and Phoebe waited behind the guard as he located the key on his over-crowded ring. She considered, for a moment, turning back. After all Mike already confessed to everything. Her dad was in the clear. I have to do this, she told herself. She would not turn back.

  “I’ll be with you at all times,” the guard said as he forced open the heavy door.

  White faced and trembling, Phoebe followed the guard into the room. She looked at the man in the hospital bed. A chair was situated next to his bed but Phoebe wouldn’t sit on it. She didn’t want to get too close. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the guard was still there.

  The pale emaciated man’s eyes immediately met hers and as she faced him, she thought about kneeling beneath the willow tree. She thought about the prayer she’d offered. She closed her eyes for a long moment.

  I need your help God. If you’re there; if you can hear my thoughts, please help me. What do I say to this man?

  She felt an unexpected calm come over her. She could not explain the feeling but her hands stopped shaking, her pulse slowed, and she was no longer afraid. She made her way to the foot of the bed.

  “Hi Phoebe,” Mike muttered; his voice was weak. His chest rose and fell sluggishly as he labored for every breath. “Thank you for coming.”

  Phoebe stood quietly watching the man carefully. She had a lot of questions, but something—something she could not explain but, nevertheless knew was very real, encouraged her to remain silent. As she followed the promptings in her heart she knew it was important to be quiet and let Mike speak.

  “I’m so sorry Phoebe.” A tear trickled down the man’s cheek and he painstakingly lifted his bony hand to wipe it away. “I know that nothing I say will take away the hurt I have caused you.” His lips quivered and he winced at the pain that tormented his sickly body. “I spent my life as a thief and a liar. I took advantage of people when they were vulnerable.” He paused, adjusted himself in the bed and then continued. “I’ve been thinking of what to say to you ever since I heard you were coming.”

  “Please tell me what happened.” Phoebe didn’t want to feel sorry for Mike but she did. She tried to force these feelings away but they would not leave.

  Mike nodded his head. “I needed money and so I went to steal something I could sell. I was watching your neighborhood that day. I saw a man leave carrying a small child—that must have been you—and I noticed he didn’t lock the door.” He paused and took a deep arduous breath. “When you’re a criminal, you learn to notice things like that. I assumed nobody else was home so I walked up and opened the door. I glanced around and after spotting the jewelry box, I hurried to open it. I removed some things I thought I could pawn when I heard a noise.” He stopped and glanced pensively at Phoebe.

  “And?” Phoebe pressed.

  “So I walked through the kitchen and turned to go into the dining room. I thought I could hide in there. That’s when the basement door opened. Your mother was coming through the door and, for a second, we both stood there frozen—just staring at each other.”

  She became frightened and took a step backward. That’s when she lost her footing. She tumbled down the stairs.” Mike was crying. Phoebe could tell he was reliving the moment in his mind. “I know I should have stayed and checked on her. I should have called an ambulance. But, I ran. I ran like a coward.” He was weeping heavily. “I sold the jewelry and left town and never went back. When I heard the news reports about your mother, I . . .”

  “Did you ever think about her?” Phoebe asked.

  Tears streamed from Mike’s weary eyes. Without morphine, he was in a great deal of physical pain. But, the look of sorrow on his face and the tears that spilled from his regret-filled eyes, told her his pain was caused more from the remorse that tortured his mind than from the cancer that was destroying his body.

  “I thought about her every day of my life. I see her face every time I close my eyes. I have wished so many times I could go back to that day and trade her places. Oh, how I wish I could change what I’ve done.” Mike struggled to lift his scrawny hand to his face but he didn’t have the strength. His penetrating blue eyes stayed focused on Phoebe. “I am so sorry Phoebe.”

  Phoebe watched Mike’s chest as it strained to rise and fall. She looked at his pale, sickly frame and his wearied, worn out eyes. “Why did you agree to see me?”

  Mike clinched his eyes shut while he lifted his lower back and repositioned himself slightly. Phoebe’s eyes followed his as he glanced at the morphine drip that had been shut off. That glass bottle full of clear liquid was the only thing that kept Mike from experiencing constant and unbearable pain.

  Mike attempted to clear his throat before speaking but even this proved to be too difficult a task for his dying body. “I want to ask your forgiveness Phoebe.”

  At Mike’s words, Phoebe’s eyes filled with tears. She glanced toward the floor and blinked the tears away. “Forgiving you is the last thing I ever imagined I could do.” She forced her tears away and gave Mike the closest thing to a smile she could muster. She knew she had to forgive him—not because she wanted
to, but because she was sure she’d never feel peace in her heart if she didn’t. “But, I know you’re sorry for what you did and I think you’ve tortured yourself long enough.” She placed a hand over her heart. “I forgive you Mike. Thank you for seeing me.” She turned and walked out of the room and down the corridor without looking back.

  “Are you okay?” The guard asked as they headed toward the lobby.

  “Yeah.” Phoebe nodded solemnly and made her way down the hallway. As she walked, she offered a silent prayer of gratitude to God for being with her in that room. She had asked Him to help her and He did. He calmed her fears and mended her broken heart, giving her the capacity to truly forgive. None of the anger or sadness she’d brought with her to Iron Springs would leave with her. Although her mother had been taken from her, she was and would always be Bessie Levick’s daughter. She had no doubt about that.

  Walking out the infirmary doors, hand in hand with Billy, she glanced at the sky and smiled.

  Twenty Eight

  “You sold it?” Phoebe could not believe her ears. “That cameo belonged to my mother.” Her voice cracked as she stared at the empty shelf of the display case.

  Francis’ posture stiffened. “No.” He held up a hand to signal that she should be quiet. “The cameo,” he said glancing at the spot where the cameo had been and then went on arrogantly, “belonged to the gallery. You see . . .” his eyes scanned the room, “. . . this is a place of business.”

  Phoebe felt her face heat up with anger. I cannot stand this man! “I know that,” she said. Even though she would rather have the dentist extract a tooth without the benefit of anesthesia, she forced herself to give the man something she hoped resembled a smile and, with as much patience as she could muster, she went on. “But, I saved the money. I have all of it.” She patted the side of her purse with her hand.

  “Well, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” There wasn’t even a hint of feeling in his words as he extended his arm toward the door. When she didn’t move, he tilted his head to the side and tapped the toe of his shoe against the floor.

  “Could you at least tell me who bought the cameo?” Surely the buyer would sell it to her once they found out it belonged to her mother.

  At that, Charles, who had been overseeing the interaction from across the room, sidled up next to Francis. He held a finger in the air and spoke in his usual patronizing manner. “We are not . . .” he moved the finger back and forth with practiced motion, “. . . I repeat not, going through that again.” The fake smile Charles usually wore hardened into a smirk of anger. “Now, if you will please leave, we have important business to attend to,” he said, glaring at Phoebe.

  And with that, it was over. Phoebe would never see the cameo again. She knew she would never get the name of the buyer from Francis or Charles. Heart broken, she left the gallery.

  ***

  Dark clouds—a perfect match for her mood—had filled the sky while Phoebe was inside the gallery. Instead of heading back to Anna’s, she’d made a b-line for Hildi’s. Once inside, she cast her eyes around the boutique until she spotted Jenna straightening the cluttered dressing room area. She recounted her experience at the gallery while helping Jenna sort, rehang, and return to their spots, the clothes that were strewn wall-to-wall inside each of the three dressing rooms.

  “I’m sorry Phoebe. I wish there was something I could do.”

  Phoebe knew there was nothing anyone could do. And, besides, it was just a thing—a material possession. She’d gained so much from her time in Iron Springs. She had to focus on that. While it would be nice to have the cameo, that was not nearly as important as what she did have. She had Jenna, a friend unlike any friend she’d ever had. She had Billy and no matter what happened after the summer was over, she would never forget him. She would always cherish the memories of being with Billy in Iron Springs. She’d learned so much about her mother and, at the same time, she’d been able to improve her relationship with her father.

  “You and Dave will be at the party, right? It starts at seven.”

  “Yep, he’s picking me up from work and we’re heading straight over to Anna’s.” Outside, thunder roared and rain started to pour from the sky. Jenna walked to the cash register and bent down behind the counter. When she popped back up, she was holding a bright yellow umbrella. “Here, you’re gonna need this.”

  Phoebe forced a smile. “Thanks.

  ***

  Phoebe followed her nose to the kitchen. As usual, Anna’s house was filled with the delightful aroma of home cooking. I’m going to miss this, Phoebe thought as she glanced around the comfortable kitchen while drawing in the mouth-watering smell.

  “Hi Anna. Something sure smells yummy.”

  Anna finished scrubbing the last dish in the sink and placed it in the drainer before removing the long yellow gloves from her hands. “Brownies. They’re for the party.” She walked over and gave Phoebe a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How was your visit to town?”

  Phoebe took a seat at the small kitchen table. “Fine,” she said gloomily. “Did you invite Howard to the party?” she asked, remembering that she had planned to visit the old man once more before she went home.

  “Yep. And he said he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Good. It’ll be nice to see him again.”

  Anna raised her eyebrows at Phoebe. “You don’t sound very happy for a girl who just got laid off from the worst job in the world.” She chuckled and held up the tray of warm brownies.

  “Would you like one?”

  “Actually, um . . .” Phoebe let out a breath. “. . . Can we talk for a minute?” Dread knotted in Phoebe’s stomach.

  “Of course we can, dear.” She moved to the table and sat down beside Phoebe. Then, once she’d apparently noticed the worry in Phoebe’s eyes, she added; “Phoebe, honey, are you okay?” She put a hand on Phoebe’s arm.

  An uneasy silence filled the room as Phoebe considered her options. She had planned to tell Anna about the investigation after talking to Mike. But now that the time had come; she wasn’t sure what to say. Should I start from the beginning and tell Anna everything? Will she be upset that I kept it all a secret? My mother was her sister. How is all this information going to affect her?

  “I know who killed my mother.” Phoebe blurted the words out and then waited for the gasp she expected Anna to give. Once that occurred, she went on and related the entire story.

  “Oh my goodness!” Anna said. A look of horror came over her face when she heard that Phoebe had visited with Mike Smith at the prison infirmary. “Weren’t you scared?”

  Phoebe nodded. “At first I was. But, not after . . .” There was no good reason for Phoebe’s hesitancy over telling her aunt about her prayer; it was just a little awkward. She squirmed in her chair.

  “What is it Phoebe. What were you going to say?”

  “Well, before I went to the prison, I said a prayer. I asked God to help me and He did. With His help, I wasn’t scared.”

  A tear fell from Anna’s eye and she wiped it away. “That was a good idea Phoebe. And it’s wonderful what you did for your dad. It will mean so much to him to know after all these years he is officially not a suspect any longer.”

  “So, you’re not upset that . . . that I kept this from you?” Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief.

  Anna shook her head. “No. I’m not upset, honey. I’m proud of you for your maturity and bravery. It took a lot of guts to do what you did.”

  “Thanks,” Phoebe said, feeling both calmed and satisfied by Anna’s words.

  “Now you go get ready and leave the work to me,” Anna said, shooing Phoebe out of the kitchen.

  “Okay. But first, I wanted to say thank you . . . for everything.” Phoebe’s voice cracked. “I don’t know if I’ll get a chance later and I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me.” She put her arms around Anna.

  Tears streamed down Anna’s cheeks a
s she returned Phoebe’s embrace. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.”

  ***

  Phoebe draped her mother’s quilt over the balcony railing. She made herself comfortable and gave the universe a quick thank you for weather that had cleared up. Her eyes moved from the sketch pad to the quilt and back to the sketch pad for two straight hours. Finally, glancing at Stephen’s gift—a drawing that matched the butterfly quilt—she pronounced it perfect and focused on writing Norm’s letter. She’d gone over it in her head but putting words on paper hadn’t turned out to be as easy as she thought it might. She’d started and crumpled up at least a dozen letters. After laying the painting on the balcony table, she picked up her notebook and pen.

  Norm.

  Glancing at the mountainside, she remembered the snow that had been there when she first arrived in Iron Springs. So much has happened in just a few weeks. She stared at the blank page before her, blew out a long breath and started to write.

  Dear Norm,

  I can’t leave Iron Springs without thanking you. Ever since that first day—when, for some reason you decided not to throw me out of your truck, even though you would have been justified in doing so—thanks for that, by the way—Anyway, ever since then, there has not been a day that has passed that I haven’t learned something from you.

  As much as I didn’t like working in the orchard, it taught me that I am capable of doing hard things. Days I thought would never end; days that were hot and exhausting and overwhelming—those were the days when I learned the most about myself. After they were over; seeing all I had accomplished, I felt proud—something I had never really felt before.

  Your faith in me when I had no faith in myself helped me to become more confident. Something about the way you accept people as they are has given me the desire to do the same—both with myself and others. The way you choose not to see Stephen’s limitation (or mine), had a real impact on me. I would not trade my experience working in the orchard for anything. It is something I will cherish forever.