Exposed (13 page)

And yet, she smiled. That same, easy smile. 

“I’m meeting Meg and Lucy in the square.”

“Tell them I say hello,” her father said. He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, where she’d prepared some sandwiches and sliced watermelon to share. 

Peter Powell had a face like June’s—always settled into the sort of smile that put others at ease. He’d gained some weight in the last few years, but it fit his personality. Cuddly and gentle. 

June had always been a Daddy’s Girl, but it’d felt like the relationship had turned a bit these last few months. Now, her father seemed a Daughter’s Boy. Was that a thing? If it was, it shouldn’t be.

“I’m putting in a fabric order for your mother,” Peter said idly. “And she’s headed to the jewelers to get the silver cleaned.”

Peter didn’t say more, but he didn’t need to. June still owed him her latest paycheck. Her stomach clenched painfully and heat crawled up her neck. What if she said no? What if she said she wouldn’t support her mother’s careless spending?

But the money was already in her hand, she was already handing it over. Out of her entire paycheck, she only kept back five dollars. A precious five dollars to add to the meager savings account. She’d have to remember to add the entry into her savings book and calculate the interest. Five dollars would hardly make a difference, but she reminded herself that every penny counted.

“Thank you,” Peter breathed. He couldn’t meet his daughter’s eyes, but he quickly pocketed the money. Then he grabbed June’s hands between his own. His skin was soft from years of gentle employment at the general store. “You know how much we appreciate this,” he said. When June tried to pull back, he held on to her. “June, thank you,” he said again, his tone almost pleading.

June was embarrassed for him. She’d never been embarrassed for her father. The feeling curdled in her. 

“I’ve got to go, Dad. They’re waiting.”

“Of course,” Peter said. He followed her to the door, that familiar smile wide on his face. “Have a wonderful day, June!”

June couldn’t smile back.

Pathetic. Ivan was right.

June barely listened to her friends chat and gossip. The day was one of those glorious mountain afternoons. The sun was warm, but the breeze was cool. Yet June couldn’t let it go. Ivan’s words to her were a vice around her chest, a weight in her stomach. And she’d just demonstrated that he was right by handing over nearly every bit of money she had to her father.

“Is everything okay?” Lucy nudged June’s shoulder.

June’s eyes shot to Evie. She was a terrible gossip, and June had never confided in her about her family’s money problems. She smiled, but the corners of her lips twitched.

How much did these women really know her? They were her closest friends, weren’t they?

“Where would you go, if you left Independence Falls?”

Lucy frowned. “Are you thinking of leaving like Violet?”

Evie laughed. “June would never leave.”

June’s eyes were sharp when they landed on Evie. She was wearing one of June’s old blouses. “What makes you say that? There’s a huge world out there beyond these mountains.”

Meg played with the edges of her sandwich, and her voice was careful when she spoke up. “We’d miss you, if you left,” she said. “But where would you like to travel? England? Mexico?” She paused and met June’s eyes with a playful little smile. “The Soviet Union?”

June grimaced and shot Meg a look. So they had seen something. Embarrassment wriggled through June. Ivan was a
Sokolov
. The good families of Independence Falls didn’t interact with them. They just didn’t. Guilt spiked through her at the thought, but it didn’t negate the fact that it was true.

June pushed down the niggling doubts about Ivan and considered Meg’s question. There were too many places to count, but where would she go first? It humiliated her that she didn’t even know. How much of a dream was it if she couldn’t even name where she’d travel?

Evie laughed. “See? June’s not going anywhere. My mother got the invitation that proves it. Old Annette is really outdoing herself this time, huh, June?” Evie laughed again, and elbowed June in the ribs a bit too hard. “If this party goes better than the gelatin incident, maybe you will be moving”—Evie paused for effect—“into your new husband’s house. Maybe Frank Greg? We all know he’s got it bad for you.”

June thought she might be sick. Her fingers tightened around her tin mug of lemonade and sourness rose up her throat. They thought she was grasping like her mother, always desperate for approval, always striving for more. June swallowed hard, but the sourness remained.

They were wrong. Ivan was wrong. And she was going to prove it to them all.

Evie marched ahead toward the town hall, her hips swaying in her slim cigarette pants. Nearby, a few boys—high school seniors, by the look of them—watched her walk by with open hunger in their eyes. Evie hooked her arm through Lucy’s elbow and laughed loudly. 

The recent break-up with Matt Harris had made Evie more difficult than usual.

Meg and June walked slower, June still lost in thought.

“This morning,” Meg began. “I did see something, didn’t I? Your cheeks went red when I mentioned it.”

June pressed her lips together. “We were just talking,” she said. She sucked in a breath to say more—
admit
more—but stopped. Meg had accepted Cora, so what would stop her from accepting Ivan? 

Another shoot of guilt rippled through her. Meg might say
she
accepted Ivan, but that wouldn’t necessarily mean she did. Cora wasn’t at their picnic, after all. 

And that said nothing of the rest of the town. June saw the way people glared at the Sokolovs, she heard the gossip that followed them like a swarm of hornets. Since the sickness, it’d only gotten angrier, more insistent. Even at the market, where the Sokolov produce was clearly the best available, June had noticed shoppers staying away. 

June didn’t want that swarm of suspicion following her. She had enough gossip to worry about with her own family.

“Just talking,” June repeated.

Meg nodded. “He’s a bit ….”

“Rude?” June supplied for her. “Arrogant? Defensive? A bit of an asshole?”

Meg chuckled then grew quiet. “I was going to say sad.”

June’s eyebrows shot up. She’d never considered Ivan to be sad. Misunderstood, maybe, but never sad.

“He’s out on that farm with just his family. He never even comes into town,” Meg said. “That’s got to be lonely.”

“Maybe if he tried to be pleasant for once, he’d have some friends.”

Meg looked at June, her face serious. “You know he was never given much of a chance to make friends.”

How had Meg ended up defending Ivan to June? After this morning and the way he’d defended her in the mine, shouldn’t it have been the other way around? June didn’t quite know what to say. Either way, she didn’t have time.

“Is that Ruth Baker?”

June’s head wrenched up and she nearly walked straight into Preacher Baker. He and Ruth were coming out of the general store, three bags heavy over Ruth’s shoulders. Her father didn’t carry anything.

June thought of Ivan. On any other day, she’d nod at her old friend and let her go. Ruth had made it plain obeying her father was her sole priority, after all. But not today. Not after Ivan’s words to her this morning.

“Ruth!” June side-stepped Ruth’s father to say hello to her friend, a plan forming in her mind.

“We’re busy, Miss Powell,” Preacher Baker snapped.

June ignored the preacher and looked instead to her old friend. One of her shoulders was sagging with the weight of the bags and her eyes were tired.

“Not too busy to volunteer, surely,” she directed her attention to Ruth, but flit her eyes to the preacher with a dazzling smile. “We’re putting on a Fourth of July celebration benefit. It’ll raise money for the schools.”

“The schools don’t need my money,” the preacher said.

“Not even for Bibles in every classroom?” June lied.

The preacher paused, glanced down at his daughter. She stood still, eyes on the ground.

“It’s all women, Preacher,” Meg added.

“Well …,” Ruth’s father mulled it over for a second. “That is a righteous cause. Though, I still expect dinner on the table tonight.”

Ruth’s chin jutted forward in surprise. “Yes, father! Of course.”

The preacher walked away, a bit unsteady, like he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. But June called out to him. “Mr. Baker! You forgot your bags.” She hauled the full grocery bags off Ruth’s shoulders and dumped them into the preacher’s hands.

Then she hooked her arm through Ruth’s and pulled her on toward the town hall, following Meg and the others.

“Are you really raising money for Bibles in school?”

June raised an eyebrow. “We’re making decorations for the Mountain Pearl Dance.”

Ruth stopped dead and tried to pull away, her eyes wide. “June!” 

She had a right to be scandalized. The Mountain Pearl Dance celebrated a prostitute.

Ruth squeezed June’s arm. “Lying is a sin,” she said. “I shouldn’t ….”

June frowned. She hadn’t thought that Ruth might not want a break. Her poor friend’s fingers were hot against her arm, her cheeks going pink.

“I’m sorry, Ruthie. I didn’t … I understand if you don’t want to. Or we could go to the soda fountain instead?”

Ruth pressed her lips together and glanced over her shoulder where her father had stumped away with the groceries.

“I guess an hour or two away won’t be terrible,” she finally said.

June squeezed her friend in a hug and the two hurried after Meg, Evie, and Lucy toward the town hall.

The building stood at the north end of the square, a tall, red sandstone structure with a bell tower pealing the hour. It had been the site of the old brothel that started this town, making it an appropriate place to prepare the annual dance. 

The Mountain Pearl Dance was one of Independence Fall’s most beloved events, held annually the weekend before the Fourth of July. It’d started—like most things in town—with a bit of scandal. Pearl was one of Mamie Watkins’ girls; no one in town back then dared to call them prostitutes. Either way, Pearl was a lovely girl who’d attracted the affections of a well-connected client from Denver. 

No one remembered his name anymore. What they did remember was the fact that he was a hobby horticulturist, and that he’d named a rare alpine flower after her. He was lauded with praise by the scientific community, but became slightly less popular with his wife. It seemed he’d never bothered to name a specimen after her.

Inside the town hall, long tables marched down the length of the building’s public banquet hall. Women perched at the tables, heads bent and mouths going. Piled high on each table were lengths of gauze, bins of bunting, squares of fabric.

The volunteers for the Independence Falls Ladies’ Auxiliary were busy making decorations. June tugged Ruth over to a table with Cora, Evie, Meg, and Lucy. 

Evie’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of Ruth slipping into a chair next to June. But Lucy reached across the fluff of supplies and covered Ruth’s hand.

“Good to see you,” she said sincerely. 

“I never thought you were too keen on volunteering,” Evie said with a frown.

June jumped in as Ruth colored. “You know how busy Ruth’s father keeps her,” she said. “She’s a peach to come help.”

With one eyebrow raised, Evie got back to work and the others followed. But the easy chatter was clearly missing from their table. Ruth was one of her oldest friends, but she had never exactly been chummy with the popular girls. She was always too meek, too shy. The others didn’t know her how June did. She could have a sly sense of humor and a lovely laugh. Though June couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Ruth laugh.

June concentrated on a fabric rosette done in sunny yellows. She peeked over at Ruth, who was slowly working on a fabric flower done in calm blues. She and Ruth had grown apart in the last couple years as June became closer to girls like Evie and Meg. Why hadn’t June worked harder to fit Ruth into her social circle? June was afraid she didn’t want to know the answer—it was embarrassing to think she’d cast aside Ruth because the others wouldn’t find her popular enough. 

June carefully placed the rosette in a basket at the end of their table and picked out a soft green gingham fabric for her next rosette with a forest green taffeta ribbon. 

“It matches,” Meg said, glancing up from her own rosette work to admire the fabric June chose.

June glanced down at her green skirt. “Oh! It does! I guess I’m in a green mood.” 

“It’s very pretty,” Cora said with a small smile. She glanced along the table to where her new mother-in-law directed volunteers to different stations. 

June made sure to give Cora a wide smile. This was the first time Cora had joined the other women in town for one of these events—she had to be nervous. 

June scooted close to Ruth and nudged her shoulder. “I’m so glad you came,” she said quietly. “I’ve missed you.”

Ruth turned a genuine smile to June. “I miss you too, Junie. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

June pressed her lips together and bent over her rosette to hide her frown. Ruth shouldn’t have been the one apologizing. Preacher Baker was a tyrant. There was no other word for it. He towered over his daughter like he did his small congregation, from a pulpit of fire. When the girls had been in school together, Ruth had at least gotten a break during the day. But now, June hadn’t done more than exchange a few words with Ruth in months. 

June opened her mouth, wanting to say something more, but she wasn’t sure what would make Ruth feel more at ease. She hated the way Ruth kept shooting glances at the doors. Instead of prying—something she knew Ruth hated—June decided to make her smile.

She leaned in close. “Mother has kept me on my toes. She’s planning this ridiculous party and keeps telling Father we need ice sculptures for the backyard. In July.”

Ruth smiled. “That might look nice.”

June fixed her with a look. “Ruth Baker. You said yourself, lying is a sin.”