Exposed (5 page)

Even in the shade, the sun fought its way through the pine boughs and hit June’s back. The sun didn’t just warm her back, but the stone bench next to her hand too. June chewed her triangle of sandwich and stared lazily at the way the sun dappled her skin where she laid her hand on the concrete. The stone was rough under her fingertips and she wondered … wondered.

She stared at her fingers where they rested lightly against the concrete and let her vision blur until the edges where her fingers stopped and the concrete began shimmered, like heat off the pavement on a summer day. The concrete was still solid under her fingers, but she could feel something at the boundary of her skin. A feeling of melting, succumbing.

Somewhere nearby, a child screeched in laughter. June snatched her fingers away from the concrete. She peered around, trying not to let her hands shake where they picked at another triangle of sandwich. But she was alone. Through the pines, she could just see the white tents from the weekend market. Women out shopping with children in tow wandered the stalls, but they were distant.

June pressed her lips together, set down her uneaten bit of sandwich, and laid her fingers against the concrete again. She furrowed her eyebrows, blinked hard until her vision blurred again.

And then it happened. Her fingers were pressed against hard concrete, then it melted before her like mist. Her hand passed through the concrete and came out the other side like nothing had stood in the way. June gulped down something between a laugh and a yelp and tugged her hand free to press her fingers to her lips.

She did it. She actually did it! Whatever
it
was. June smiled to herself, excitement bubbling up through her chest. June held her hands out in front of herself, marveling at this new power.

The minute hand on her watch tick, tick, ticked. And June really did yelp this time. She threw the remains of her lunch back into her pail and sprang to her feet. She was expected back at the bank in just a minute.

June nearly ran
through
the bench, so preoccupied she was with getting back to the bank. She nearly ran headlong into someone standing just inside the copse of trees and jumped back.

“Oh! I’m so—” The apology died on her lips. Before her, Butch sneered. He licked his lips as he regarded her.

“No need to rush,” he said, drawling and lazy. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the tree at his back. “I can give you plenty of excuses to be late getting back to the bank.”

June held her lunch pail in tight to her body and shouldered past Butch. “Excuse me,” she said, not trying to hide the curtness in her tone. Everyone knew horrible Butch Murphy and the things he tried with girls who were unfortunate enough to find themselves alone with him. Just the thought of what others would say if they saw her alone with him made her shiver in disgust.

Butch held one arm out wide, like he was generously allowing her to keep walking. “By all means,” he said.

June hated herself for it, but she thanked him before she could stop the words leaving her mouth. Then head down, she rushed across the town square and slipped through the bank door just as the clock in the town hall chimed one.

“And ten makes fifty,” June said, counting out the withdrawal for Mrs. Sharpe.

“Well done, June,” Mrs. Sharpe said as she accepted the money. “It must be an adjustment, taking on a difficult job like this. My Evie’s head would be all aflutter if she was expected to work like you are.”

The smile at June’s lips froze, and she was sure her brown eyes turned stony as Mrs. Sharpe walked away. 

Fifty dollars. That’s what Mrs. Sharpe was withdrawing, and all for Evie Sharpe’s new wardrobe for the upcoming fall season. She was fairly sure Mr. Sharpe hadn’t sold the family car to pay for his wife’s spending. Not for the first time that afternoon, June’s eyes wandered to the round vault door at the back of the bank.

You could take some money. Who would know?

It was shiny steel, with a huge, cumbersome wheel to unlock it. Edith wore the key hanging around her neck. But June didn’t need to worry about locks anymore, not with this new power. The sudden thought startled June and made her stomach writhe with unease. But she couldn’t shake the thought. How easy it would be to walk right through that steel door and slip some money into her pocketbook. Heaven knew families like the Sharpes had enough to spare. They’d probably not even miss it.

Take the money.

She could afford a new wardrobe of her own with just half of Evie Sharpe’s budget. Didn’t she deserve it? Or she could help pay for her mother’s ridiculous Fourth of July party—she’d seen the quote from the gardeners her mother was thinking of hiring. It was nearly four months of her salary. But if June was able to just give them the money then maybe she’d actually save money instead of handing everything over to her family. Then maybe she’d actually see beyond Desolation and Jubilation. There were oceans out there somewhere and cities to get lost in. 

Not that Mother cared about such things or would understand June’s longing. All she seemed to care for were cocktail parties with the Briggs family and setting June up with an eligible—and rich—man.

“Miss!”

June startled and dragged her gaze away from the vault.

Ms. Mary Stewart stood on the other side of the counter, her sparse eyebrows winged upward in annoyance and her small eyes narrowed. She banged her cane against the marble counter top.

“Ah, now I’ve got your attention!”

Yes, and the rest of the bank as well. Edith’s sharp eyes found June from across the room, and she stalked closer, the vault key on the chain around her neck bouncing against her bony chest.

“Do you need help, Mary?”

Mary turned to Edith, but not before glaring down her nose at June. “I have to wonder, Edith, what they were thinking hiring a silly girl to be handling my money and jewels.”

June’s cheeks flared red, and she ducked her head to hide the heat in her face. She had done well in school, even had the grades for college if her mother would have approved it. Humiliation and anger jolted through her, until the tips of her fingers felt electric and she pictured herself reaching over the counter and slapping the woman. 

Instead, she apologized to Ms. Stewart and flattered her endlessly until the old woman’s transaction was complete.

But that heat didn’t leave with her. It coursed through her and scored at her bones until she felt consumed by it. Without thinking, June passed her hand through the wood drawer under the counter top. It was effortless. She did it again. And again. All while her eyes remained trained on the vault.

“June,” Clayton said, pulling her attention away from the vault. “A word?”

Fear spiked through her. Had she been caught? Had Clayton somehow known the dark thoughts taking root in her mind. But beneath the fear was something else: pain. 

June flexed her fingers and grimaced. Her knuckles smarted, and her skin felt tender when she gently prodded the back of her hand. The pain drove away all thoughts of the vault and left behind a very uncomfortable realization of what she’d been entertaining. It sat heavy in the pit of her stomach. 

Had she really considered stealing from her employer? Not just her employer, but Clayton, her friend?

“So,” he started, leaning over her counter and talking low. He had a coat slung over his arm and held a briefcase, ready to leave for the day. His smile was easy, confident, and it settled June’s racing heart. “Cora and I spoke more.”

June’s stomach sank. She’d known of this new power for, what, a single day? And she’d already started thinking of horrible things to do with it. Cora and Clayton had been so eager to explore their powers, to learn more … but June wasn’t sure she
should
.

Clayton, however, didn’t seem to notice her reluctance. He peered around and then kept whispering. “We were all in that fog … and now. There must be others affected like us, and I—Cora and I—think we should meet and figure out why this is happening to us. We were hoping you’d help.”

“I don’t know, Clay.”

Clayton frowned, and June’s stomach twisted at the disappointment she’d caused. June suspected he’d thought this conversation would go an entirely different way. “Is something wrong?”

June sighed deeply. “I’m a bit overwhelmed,” she admitted. Overwhelmed, and scared of what she was considering doing before Clayton interrupted. 

The wall clock chimed two times—her shift was over. June reached for her purse tucked under her teller station. Her hand hit Ivan’s jacket folded neatly underneath. She’d completely forgotten to get it to his brother during lunch. She’d have to hurry to catch him now before the market closed. That just made the sense of being overwhelmed grow.

“Can I get you my answer later? I need …,” she started walking away. “I just need a moment.” 

She didn’t wait for Clayton’s response. Anxiety trembled through her, constricted her chest and compelled her on. She hurried to the bathroom and splashed water on her cheeks. She looked tired, her skin pale and her eyes dull. She needed to get a handle on this new power. Figure out what was happening to her before she let it overcome her and she did something awful. 

June pulled out her lipstick, hoping a bit of routine would shake her out of whatever was taking hold. Then something silky brushed against her fingertips.

It was the flower from last night. The lovely bloom from Ivan that she’d tucked into her purse and forgotten.

June stared at the flower, gently touched the petals. Her heart calmed, her breathing returned to normal. She concentrated on the lovely flower, centered her attention. It was still perfect, the leaves plump and the petals velvety. 

On a whim, June slid the stem through the button hole on her jacket lapel, an idea forming in her mind. Maybe if she planted a garden herself, she could do the work her mother planned to hire out. Maybe that would keep her mother’s spending in check. It was just the beginning of a notion, but it was something to hold on to. Something that would hopefully stop her from letting those wrong,
illegal
thoughts of earlier from invading her mind again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ivan

Ivan shifted back and forth on his feet. He’d been at the Sokolov stall since nine that morning, and his muscles twitched. They ached to run or drive the horses or chop wood. Anything to escape the perpetual standing. 

Standing and staring out over the shoppers who refused to buy from his family since the sickness. How dumb they all were, how consumed with baseless fear. If they knew just what had happened after that sickness—Ivan’s power had manifested the day he’d come home from the make-shift infirmary, which couldn’t be coincidence—then they’d really be afraid.

But would they finally have to admit it wasn’t the Soviets who had attacked? Why would America’s enemy give American citizens special powers? Yet after years of living in Independence Falls, Ivan was certain even knowing the truth wouldn’t stop some of these people from blaming his family, his heritage.

And so he was here. After nearly six hours of standing in a market stall, he’d barely made a dent in the boxes of produce and tins of flowers he’d brought from the farm that morning. 

Ivan ran a finger over the tally sheet next to the leather envelope of money. He’d sold two bouquets—no matter their reputation, the society women couldn’t resist his family’s roses—four zucchini, two peppers, and ten peaches. Ivan’s stomach twisted. What would they do with the leftovers? Since the sickness, they were barely getting through the unsold produce before things rotted. The cut flowers were turning into compost, the bruised produce feeding the horses.

Ivan had to move, had to feel like he was doing
something
. He paced near the front of the canopy and stared up at the sky. In the hours he’d stood ignored at the market, the sun had arced across the jewel blue sky. It dipped closer to Desolation now, the craggy peak that brooded over town to the northwest. What he wouldn’t give for a day to lose himself in those mountains. 

They were surrounded, mountains on all sides of their tiny valley, but it was the twin peaks of Jubilation and Desolation—the tallest for miles around—that always called him. Out of town, away from the people, Ivan couldn’t help but fall in love with this little corner of the world. The wildness pulled at him, made his strides longer, his heart beat faster. It was about the only thing in Independence Falls he’d ever loved aside from his family.

A woman with three children tugging at her dress ducked into the stall, not quite meeting Ivan’s eyes. She swatted away the oldest boy’s hand when he grabbed for a peach and rummaged through the bin of yellow onions. When Ivan handed back her change for the purchase of three onions and two green peppers, the woman counted it very carefully.

“It’s all there,” Ivan said, barely keeping the growl from his voice. 

The woman’s hand snapped shut over the change in her palm and she herded her children out.

He scowled at her back, but then the sight of a new arrival just made his scowl deepen. Ivan swore silently and tried to make himself busy rearranging the roses.

June strode through the market toward him, carrying his jacket neatly over one arm. When she caught his eye, her own went wide and she faltered for a second, but then she set her lips in a firm line and walked closer. 

The woman was determined, he’d give her that. If it were him, he would have forgotten the jacket and stayed far away. But not June Powell.

Her dress hugged her hips and followed the curve of her waist. It sent a tremor through Ivan that made him shift uncomfortably. Jesus, what was wrong with him? She wasn’t true to herself, Ivan was sure of that. Not someone like June Powell. 

But dammit if that dress on her body didn’t do things to him. And her breasts the night before, the way he could practically see them under her blouse. They had been small and perfect, as ripe and sweet as the peaches that had tempted the young boy. And like the boy, he’d been tempted. He’d wanted to feel the weight of them in his hands, make her react under the heat of his mouth.