Free Summer In Iron Springs by Margie Broschinsky Page B

same person and she knew that most artists either signed all of their pieces or none of them.
    “I thought it was strange that she wouldn’t sign them,” Anna said. “But she told me that her favorite art teacher once said that it was not a good idea to sign paintings.”
    “That’s odd,” Phoebe said. She had taken several art classes and she had never heard anything like that from any of her teachers.
    “That’s what I said. I don’t know why the teacher said that but Bessie apparently had a lot of respect for his opinion so she never signed any of her paintings.”
    It took a moment for Anna’s words to register in Phoebe’s ears and when they did she turned to face her aunt. “Bessie? Did my mother paint these?”
    Anna nodded slowly as she studied Phoebe’s eyes. “Yes, she did.”
    She glanced at the painting and then at Anna as her eyes started to water. She stood up and went inside with Anna following behind her. Tears rolled down her face as she stood before the group of paintings. She wondered why her father had never mentioned anything about her mother being an artist. Why did she have to find it out from Norm and Anna? None of her mother’s paintings hung in their home.
    “I kinda want to be alone.” Phoebe glanced at Anna who stood silently beside her as her mind flooded with thoughts.
    Anna nodded and headed toward the door. “Okay, dear. I just wanted to check in on you. I’m sorry I upset you.”
    “It’s okay. I’m fine. I just feel like being alone.”
    Anna nodded and gave Phoebe a kiss on the cheek. “Let me know if you need anything.”
    Phoebe stood before the paintings looking at them now through different eyes. Noticing each brush stroke and imagining her mother putting it there. Wondering about the story behind the paintings and wanting, so badly, to talk to her mother. Tears filled her eyes, spilled over and ran down her cheeks and she did nothing to stop them. For once, she let them flow.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Five
     
    “Let me help you with that.” Billy ran over and removed several heavy branches from Phoebe’s arms. In her rush to get finished, she had picked up more than she was able to manage. Now, carrying a much smaller load, she could actually see where she was going and wouldn’t risk smacking into a tree on her way to the mulch pile.
    “Thanks,” she said, shifting the load she was carrying. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to carry so much at once.” After two weeks in the orchard, she was getting pretty good at the job—that’s not to say she was enjoying it but she was adjusting to her new routine.
    Billy chuckled. “You’re a hard working girl now. Pretty soon those biceps will be bigger than mine.” He gave an appreciative glance at Phoebe’s newly toned arms.
    “I sure hope not. Your arms are huge.” Phoebe immediately regretted her words. She didn’t want Billy to think she was flirting with him. “I mean, on a girl they’d be huge but on you they’re fine.”
    Billy laughed even louder. “So, you think I’m fine?”
    “That’s not what I meant,” Phoebe stammered, her face grew hot. “I was just saying that boys are supposed to have bigger muscles than girls.”
    “Oh, I see. You think I have huge muscles.” Billy transferred the braches from one arm to the other and made a show of flexing his bicep.
    “No, I was just saying that—”
    “It’s okay Phoebe.” Billy chuckled. “I was just messing with you. I know what you meant.”
    When they arrived at the mulch pile, Phoebe dropped her load and brushed the dirt and debris from her arms. “It’s so hot today,” she said, running her arm along her forehead. The sun was shining brightly and without a breeze, the orchard was terribly hot.
    “Come on, let’s take a break,” Billy said. “It’s gotta be over a hundred degrees today.”
    Phoebe nodded and followed him to Norm’s truck. He reached into the cooler and pulled out two bottles of cold