Bryce nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. Guess I’d better head over to the bank and see what I can do.” He came to his feet, then paused. “Listen, Phoebe. We never really talked after that night, and—”
She pulled in a breath. “You’re right and we probably need to, but not now, okay? I’m still a little off balance from seeing you walk in here. One step at a time.”
He nodded. “Sure. I understand.” He lifted a hand in farewell, then walked away.
Phoebe slumped back into her chair as though she’d been punched. Why him? Why now, after all this time, when she was doing so well?
Gina stuck her head back in the cubicle. “You want lunch, or are you going to eat while you’re out?”
Phoebe looked at her watch. It was eleven, an hour before she was supposed to meet with Eileen Weiker, but she suddenly needed to get out of there. “I’ll go now and eat while I’m out.”
“Okay.” Gina tilted her head to the side. “Are you okay? You seem a little off. Was it that guy? Is he a stalker?”
“Just a blast from my past. No worries.” Phoebe stood up, grabbed her bag, and smiled. “I’ll be back and we can get this house posted. I’ll take the pictures myself this time.”
“All right. I’ll let Billy know.”
Billy was a very talented real estate photographer, but when a place meant a lot to Phoebe, she liked to do as much of the work on it as she could, and this was definitely the case. She checked her trunk to make sure she had her camera, and then she was off. She’d grab something from Evie’s drive-through on her way.
Chapter Three
“I imagine you know this garden better than almost anyone outside the family,” Eileen said as she and Phoebe walked down the path. “Didn’t you help Mike plant crocuses one year?”
“I did,” Phoebe replied, thinking back to that day. Mr. Weiker hadn’t said one word to her that afternoon. He’d simply handed her a trowel and a bag of small bulbs. She hadn’t wanted to work and she’d almost thrown everything back in his face, but she trusted him, so she went down on her knees and began to dig. Soon, her emotions began to flow down into the earth through her fingertips and then through her tears, and by the time she’d planted every bulb, she understood why he’d had her do it.
“We have so many crocuses in this yard—when they all bloom, it looks like those pictures you see of the tulips in Holland. Rows upon rows upon rows of them. Mike said they were the best flower for teaching about life.”
“Why is that?” Phoebe asked.
“They’re small, so you have to plant a lot of them to get any real coverage. That teaches patience. And when they bloom, they have to push through frozen ground in order to reach the sun.” Eileen put her hand on Phoebe’s arm. “I believe that metaphor is pretty self-explanatory,” she said gently before turning down the other path.
Yes. Yes, it was. Pushing through the hard times to get to the good. Coming alive again after being dormant for far too long. That’s what she’d done—or so she believed. Seeing Bryce had pushed her right back under that snow again.
“Did you know that Bryce Davidson’s back in town?” she asked as they rounded the corner of the house. She paused to take a few pictures of the trees on the east side of the lawn so the camera would hide her face.
“Is he? I had no idea.”
“He came into the office a little while ago. He’s retired, and he’d like to buy your house.”
“He would? Oh, I’d love that,” Eileen replied. “I think he’d appreciate it like few others could.” She paused and regarded Phoebe. “You’d love this house. Have you given any thought to buying it?”
Phoebe shook her head and laughed. “You have no idea how much I’d love to buy it, but I’m still paying off my student loans. The bank would chase me out if I went in there.”
“Things work out how they’re supposed to work out,” Eileen said. “Now, I’m not a photographer, but I think this would be a great angle for the front of the house.”
“You’re right.” Phoebe lifted her camera and got back to work, trying not to think about what it would be like when Eileen moved.
***
“No, I don’t have a job at the moment,” Bryce said, shifting in the chair where he sat. “I plan to start looking tomorrow.”
Mrs. Griggs, the loan officer, looked at him over the top of her glasses. “But you’re injured, you say? What sort of job are you looking for? This is a ranching community, Mr. Davidson, and if you can’t do ranch work, I’m afraid your alternatives may be very few and far between.”
“I’ve been a little worried about that myself, to be honest,” Bryce replied.
She looked down at the papers in front of her. “You have a fairly nice insurance settlement here. Why don’t you buy a smaller piece of property or even get an apartment and use the rest of the money for your living until you figure things out?”
“I could do that, but what about Rocky? I can’t just get rid of him, Mrs. Griggs. Maybe that’s hard to understand, but a cowboy and his horse—well, Rocky’s like an extension of me. He’s not just an animal.”
She smiled. “I understand a little more about that than you think. I might look like a wizened old hag, but I was quite a cowgirl in my day, and I do know what you’re talking about. It’s admirable that you want to take care of Rocky, but can you really afford it? An insurance policy is there to take care of you in a case like this, and this amount should be sufficient—if you spend it wisely. I’m afraid that putting this much money into a house is going to leave you penniless and on the street.”
Bryce ran a hand through his hair. She was right. He was being foolish. That insurance policy had been one thing his mother had absolutely insisted on when he went into the rodeo—the only smart thing he’d ever done on someone else’s advice—and he should be doling it out to himself slowly. But the Weikers’ property felt right. It felt like it was always meant to be.
“If I’m able to get a job, can you consider me for a loan? I can bring in three dozen character witnesses, people who knew me when I was in diapers.”
“Unfortunately, how you looked in diapers has no bearing on your ability to pay back a loan now, but yes, when you get a job, come back in and we’ll talk.”
“All right. I’ll do that.” Bryce rose and held out his hand.
Mrs. Griggs accepted his handshake. “You know, it’s too bad Rocky can’t get a job. As your roommate, it seems that he should take on a share of the financial responsibility.”
“I think you’re right,” Bryce replied. “He’s really getting away with murder right now—eating nice, crunchy hay and expecting me to foot all the bills.”
“Take care of yourself, Mr. Davidson,” she said, her eyes soft. “I hope you find whatever it is you need to make this work.”
He gave her a nod, then left her office. He needed a job, but where? How? She was right—Burnt River was a ranching community. How could he support himself if he couldn’t do heavy ranch work? He’d left a message with the specialist, but he hadn’t heard back yet, and it’s not like he expected the specialist to get him back to his former self. He was too far gone—he’d have to find a new normal from here on out.
He pulled in a breath. All right, this was a tricky problem, but one he could fix. Maybe Mrs. Weiker would be willing to do seller financing. That way, he wouldn’t need to get a loan, and he’d have time to heal up more and find work before the money he had ran out. He was tempted to run over there right then and ask her, but that wasn’t the professional way—he’d ask Phoebe, who would then ask her.
Phoebe. He thought about her as he climbed into his truck. Of all the people to run into . . . Of course, when you come back to your hometown, you should expect to see everyone from your past, for good or for bad. Phoebe hadn’t been bad, but seeing her again hadn’t been good, either. If there had been any way to avoid it, he sure would have liked to know about it.
A glance at his watch told him it was too late in the d
ay to go back over to the real estate office with that seller financing question. He’d ask the next day. For that night, he’d go online and start looking at job ads. He’d believe in this a while longer before he moved on to something cheaper. If he couldn’t buy the house the traditional way, he’d try an untraditional way. He wasn’t giving up.
Chapter Four
After Phoebe left the Weikers’ house, she couldn’t bring herself to go back to the office. It was too busy, too loud, too peopley. She also couldn’t bring herself to go home—it wasn’t peopley enough, and she didn’t want to be alone. Instead, she drove back out to Ashley’s, knowing full well that she might be setting herself up for a manicure or a waxing treatment or some other new thing her friend wanted to try.
But what were best friends for if not to be guinea pigs?
Tasha, Ashley’s friend and new boarder, opened the door when Phoebe knocked. Tasha would be delivering a baby within a few months, doing it on her own as a single mom, and Ashley had taken her in. The arrangement was working out well, though, as Tasha had been able to help care for Aunt Vi on her down days. It was a household of give and take, each person contributing what they could and asking for help when they needed it. Phoebe was jealous of it sometimes—her parents had moved away some years before, and she missed the closeness having a family could bring.
“Hey, Phoebe,” Tasha said, stepping back to let her in. “Ashley’s got clients out in the salon right now, but you can watch TV with me and Vi.”
“That works for me,” Phoebe said, kicking off her shoes in the entryway. “Can I also use your WiFi?”
“Of course,” Vi called out from her rocker. “That’s what it’s there for.”
Phoebe crossed the room and gave Vi a kiss on the cheek, then settled in on the couch. She’d taken hundreds of pictures of the Weikers’ house, and now it was time to choose the best and get them uploaded.
She put the SD card from the camera into her computer and began to scroll. At first, she’d inadvertently caught Eileen in a few of the frames, but as she went on, she took some purposely, wanting to capture the look of gentleness and pride on Eileen’s face as she spoke about her home. Those weren’t pictures she’d ever share online, but she’d have them as precious memories forever.
By the time she’d chosen the ones she felt showed the house to its best advantage, Ashley was finished in the salon and walked into the house.
“Hey, Phee,” she called out, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Want anything?”
“Water’s fine,” Phoebe called back. Ashley brought both bottles into the living room and plunked down on the other end of the couch.
“That was crazy,” Ashley said after taking a long drink. “Thorn and Grace were in Butte for the weekend and she stopped in somewhere to get her hair lightened, and they turned her orange. Took me a little while, but she looks less like a pumpkin now.” She reached out and nudged Phoebe’s knee. “What brings you by in the middle of the day?”
“Just feeling edgy,” Phoebe replied. “I needed a place without so many prickles. Look what I did this afternoon.” She passed her laptop over to Ashley. “Scroll right. These are all the shots I’m going to use for the Weikers’ listing.”
“These are great,” Ashley said, nodding as she scrolled. “Remind me why your agency has a photographer again?”
“Because not every agent has my immaculate taste or incredible talent,” Phoebe retorted. “Anyway, the more I look at these pictures, the more I want this house. I need to win the lottery or something.”
“Have you ever tried to win the lottery?” Vi asked from her chair. “I did for a while. I won fifty dollars, and that was pretty exciting, but it wasn’t worth the few hundred I’d put into it.”
“No, I’ve never tried,” Phoebe replied. “I’m not much of a gambler. I’m more of a sure thing kind of person.”
“That’s just it, though,” Vi said. “I don’t think there are a lot of sure things out there. Everything’s a gamble. Jobs, love, houses, health—you never know from one day to the next what’s going to happen to you.” She nodded, then smiled. “So keep your money in your pocket. At least that’s one gamble you can control.”
Phoebe laughed. “Noted.”
Vi turned off her news program and announced that she’d like to lie down. Tasha took her arm and helped her into the back bedroom. As soon as they were alone, Ashley turned to Phoebe and lowered her voice. “All right, what’s going on?”
Phoebe looked down at her hands. “Bryce Davidson came into the office today.”
“What?” Ashley sat up straight. “Oh, my gosh. That must have been so crazy for you.”
“Yeah. I’ve been keeping myself really busy today, trying not to think about things, but they’re still there, you know?”
Tasha came back in the room, sat down, then looked back and forth between the two of them. “Wait,” she said. “I’m interrupting something here. Do you want me to leave? I can go . . . knit a bootie or something in the other room.”
“No, it’s fine,” Phoebe said, lifting a hand. “You live here now and you might even start to hear rumors from some of the old timers—might as well hear it from me first.”
“Okay,” Tasha said slowly. “But only if you’re sure.”
It was so, so tempting to say never mind, but that wasn’t the brave way, and she wanted to do things the brave way. “I think it’ll be good for me.” Phoebe closed her eyes and tried to center herself. “When we were seniors in high school, there was this group of guys who always hung out together. They were cute and pretty popular, and if you were dating one of them, you were guaranteed friendship with everyone else in the group. Well, one of the guys asked me to Homecoming, and I was flattered and said yes. We went as a big group, and the guys switched it up so we all danced with each other’s dates. It was a lot of fun.”
Ashley reached over and put her hand on Phoebe’s shoulder in silent support.
“Well, my date had been spending a lot of extra time with me the week leading up to the dance—he sent me flowers and he’d show up at my locker and bring me little things like a teddy bear or a candy bar or something. Kind of laying it on thick. I thought it was great—I had a boyfriend, he was paying attention to me, and I was happier than I’d been for a long time.”
She swallowed a couple of times. She could do this—she could. “After the dance, we were all walking out across the football field and I noticed that the rest of the group had suddenly disappeared, and it was just the two of us.”
A shudder went through Phoebe’s entire body when she said this. She could see it as though it was happening again. “It was so dark outside—the field was only somewhat lit, and it was kind of spooky. He pulled me with him under the bleachers and started kissing me. For a second, I thought it was really romantic—we’d had fun at the dance, and now I was having my first kiss—but that wasn’t all he wanted.”
Tasha pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.
“When I told him no, he hit me across the face, hard, and he told me that after everything he’d done for me . . . well, he hit me again, and I was getting dizzy. I was shaking so hard, I couldn’t even function, and I knew there was nothing I could do. He pushed me down on the ground and my ankle sort of collapsed under me. I knew I couldn’t run—I was more helpless than I’ve ever been in my life. But just then, one of his friends showed up and told him to beat it. They got into a fight and my date got punched good a few times before he finally left. His friend took me home—he saved me.” Phoebe’s fingernails pressed into her palms, she was squeezing her fists so tightly. Her voice sounded wooden, like she didn’t even care, but she did care. She cared so much.
“Oh, wow,” Tasha said at last, tears on her cheeks. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Yeah. Well, he showed up at the office today.”
Tasha leaned forward. “The guy who tried to rape you?”
“No. The one who saved me.” Phoebe pressed her hands
to her temples. “It was so awkward. I haven’t seen him since then—I transferred to another school. He gave a statement to the police and my attacker spent some time in jail for attempted rape, and then he moved away. I thought I’d never see Bryce again either, but I was wrong. And it brought back all those memories, and I’m kind of a mess right now.”
“I wish I’d known,” Tasha said, crossing the room and putting her arm around Phoebe’s other shoulder. “I would have done something . . . I don’t know what I would have done, but I would have tried. You didn’t have to sit here and watch stupid game shows with us.”
“But I like game shows,” Phoebe said, trying to bring some humor into the situation. “If I’d been on that last one, I would have won the car—I knew all the answers.”
Tasha gave her a little squeeze. “So, what can I do now?”
Phoebe shrugged. “I just need to breathe through this. The other guy’s out of state, it’s been years, and I’m a big girl. It’s just . . . Bryce wants to talk, and I don’t know about what, and that makes me nervous. He saw me in a really bad situation, and no one else saw me that way, and it’s like he knows things that no one else knows . . . It’s just hard.”
“And you’re amazing,” Ashley said softly. “You’ve been so, so brave. I don’t know if I could have done what you did.”
“It was Mr. Weiker who told me I needed to report it,” Phoebe replied. “I was going to push it under the rug—I mean, it didn’t really happen, right? Bryce stopped it. But Mr. Weiker noticed I was acting weird in school the following Monday, and when I stopped by the house later to say hi to Eileen, he asked me for help planting crocuses, and it all came tumbling out. He and Eileen drove me to the police station because I was too ashamed to tell my own parents. Of course, they found out later that same day, but without the Weikers . . .” Phoebe wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done. And now Bryce wants to buy the Weikers’ house.”
Phoebe's Fate (Burnt River Contemporary Western Romance Book 9) Page 2