beside him. They left the plate in the grass. “Lead the way, princess.”
Princess Phoebe. That was a good one.
LEWIS MUNCHED on the apple. Phoebe could hear the strong crunch of his teeth every time he took a bite, although she could barely make him out in the near pitch-dark.
It had to be close to midnight. They were still in Uncle Joe’s hammock, behind his house. They’d sat on it for a while, swinging their feet. Then—she wasn’t quite sure what had brought on the change—they’d swung their feet up and lay down side by side. Other than sliding his arm around her, so that she could rest her head on it, and occasionally hugging her, he hadn’t tried anything funny. Not that Phoebe was worried; she was quite confident she could take care of herself if the need arose.
But his quiet, just-friends behavior surprised Phoebe, considering their hot kisses that afternoon. Maybe she ought to give Lewis more credit than she had so far. Maybe he wasn’t just out to get whatever he could, whether from a girl or from the system he seemed to despise so much.
“Tell me about your mother,” she said. “Don’t you worry about her living out there alone?”
Lewis thought about the question for a few minutes. Then he sighed. “I do. It’s just that…I don’t have much in common with them. Billy’s more like an aunt or something than a sister. She’s sixteen years older than me and she never talks, never says boo. You know what she’s like. Ma? Well, she’s kind of weird.…”
His voice trailed off. Phoebe realized he was being excruciatingly honest with her. He was right; his sister and his mother were pretty weird. Still, they were his family, he must feel something for them. “Did you send them money? Before…you know?” Phoebe knew that neither woman had an outside job.
“Before I went to jail? Yeah.” Lewis seemed a little agitated. He swung the hammock vigorously with a foot he had extended to the ground. It was fairly cold now, and Phoebe felt clammy from the dew settling in the air. She was glad she was snuggled up beside Lewis. His body was warm, even hot, and he didn’t seem disturbed by the damp. “I gave them money when I was working. Even that rustling business…” He laughed, a short humorless sound. “That was to try and get a decent stake for them. I sold a couple of the steers we stole and made some serious money. I knew it couldn’t last…”
“It was stealing, Lewis,” Phoebe said. “It’s wrong.”
“You can say that. You’ve never been hungry,” he responded bitterly. “You don’t know what it’s like to have do-gooders coming out to visit, figuring if they leave off a bag of grub they’ve got a right to take up your time. Like they own you. Or the religious busybodies…”
Phoebe raised her head to look fully at him. “I hope—”
“No,” he broke in. “Not you or your folks. Your ma’s a pretty nice lady. I know Ma and Billy think the world of her.”
Phoebe lay back down, mollified. He had a point. What about the other side of it? It was one thing to help people out, but what was it like to be always having to accept help?
“How about your dad? You ever hear from him?” Phoebe had never heard anything about a man in the Hardin family, other than Lewis.
“Could be dead for all I know.” Lewis shrugged. “Some drifter, probably. I have no idea who my father is. Do you believe me?”
Phoebe was stunned. “Oh, Lewis…” She turned to him, into his shoulder, and her eyes sought his in the semidark. It had grown lighter now that the cloud was moving off the moon.
“You don’t need to feel sorry for me, Phoebe. All I know is, every once in a while, back when I was growing up, Ma or Billy would find an envelope stuffed with cash in the mailbox. Used to be just like Christmas.” She heard his smile. “I’d get new clothes, Billy would order a bunch of seeds from the seed catalog, Ma would buy a new coat, if she needed one. Or a pair of boots. I never knew where the money came from, but I used to pretend it was my father, looking after us, you know? Maybe it was. But maybe it was just some do-gooder. It was always cash. No return address.”
Phoebe nodded.
Lewis laughed that bitter laugh she was beginning to recognize and dread. “I figure the bastard must be dead. Hasn’t left us any money for quite a few years now. If it was him in the first place.”
Phoebe didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine life without her parents. They were both so understanding, so supportive. A father, especially. How could Lewis have managed with no father in his life? A lot of people thought Harry Longquist was gruff and grumpy since his accident, but Phoebe knew better. He was an old softie inside. It sounded like Lewis had brought himself up, really. She remembered that spare room fashioned out of a box stall, the first time she’d ever seen him. He’d been trying to build up his muscles, working out with that makeshift punching bag. She could still see the sinews in his skinny back, hear the shout of frustration when he gave it up.
Phoebe reached up and put her hand on Lewis’s chest. She touched his throat, bare and warm in the cold night air. “I’d better go, Lewis. I— I’m glad you talked to me. I really hope things work out for you—”
“You mean that, don’t you, Phoebe?” His voice was raw.
She nodded. “I do.”
“Kiss me, Phoebe. Kiss me one more time before I leave. I’m going to start walking toward town. Someone will pick me up— I’m not worried about that. And tomorrow, I’m going to turn myself in to the cops. Finish my sentence.”
“No more sneaking out in laundry trucks?” she asked, running her fingertips along the line of his throat, where his T-shirt met his neck. She felt him shiver.
“Nope. I’m gonna do my time, put it behind me. Start looking after Ma and Billy again. They need me. They got nobody else. And, Phoebe, I want you to…” He paused and turned to her, fingering one of her braids. “Ah, hell, never mind. Just kiss me!”
Phoebe kissed him. She was hoping he’d ask. She wanted to lose herself in the luxury of his arms, his warmth, the skill of his kiss. Lewis was no rank beginner at the art of love, as she was.
He pressed her close against him and she could feel the bulge of his erection in his jeans. He made no attempt to conceal it. Her pulse shot into overdrive, but she knew they had to stop. This…this wasn’t right. She pushed back, gently.
“What…what were you going to say?” she managed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breath was out of control, her breasts were swollen and aching.
“What about?” he murmured, kissing her neck and throat.
“When you said…something you wanted me to do…” She lay back in the hammock, every nerve in her body singing, every muscle mad with need.
“I wanted to say…” He kissed her deeply, reverently, then raised his head and stared down into her eyes. Phoebe could see him clearly, since the moon had emerged from behind the clouds. “I wanted to say that I wish you’d wait for me. But I know that’s crazy.” His voice was deep, every word he said so…so tender! Just like in the movies. “You’ve got your own life to live. There’s no future for the two of us. You and me. We’re…we’re just…I don’t know—accidental friends, I guess. If you’d never come out to the farm with your mother…” He shrugged.
