Under the Desert Sky by Sara Luck Page B

through her hair, trying to coax some semblance of order into her unruly locks. Even as she was doing this, though, she was aware that had this been any other day, she would’ve given her hair little more than a few cursory strokes.
    What was she thinking? This was an ordinary day. And like on any other ordinary day, she had chores to do. It was good she was up so early because she’d need to fix an extrabig breakfast for her houseguests. Phoebe smiled. She’d cooked breakfast every morning for Cornello and Trinidad, but, for some reason, cooking for Christian and July pleased her.
    She thought about putting on another one of her town dresses, but chose her old blue chambray instead. She couldn’t pretend to be somebody she wasn’t. If Christian noticed her, it’d be for who she was, not for what she looked like.
    In the quiet of her bedroom, she felt her face flush. For one irrational moment, she felt a sense of guilt in even thinking that Christian would notice her. It was as if she’d betrayed Edwin.
    But that was nonsense. She’d done nothing to betray him, not by thought, word, or deed. And besides, Edwin was gone. How could a woman betray a husband if he was dead?
    Those thoughts were tumbling through her mind as she started, not for the pens, but toward the little grave on the hill. She opened the gate to the low white fence, then went inside and sat down on the grass beside the grave. A cluster of desert baby blue eyes was growing on top of the grave and she reached for them, intending to pull them as she did all the weeds that grew inside the enclosure. But she decided to leave the little splash of color.
    â€œThey’re blue, Edwin. I wish they were orange; I know that’s your favorite color. But the blue looks nice, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just leave them here for now.”
    She pulled a few other weeds around the runners of the morning glory–like flowers.
    â€œI suppose you know a man has spent the last two nights with me. But of course you know: you’re right here, you’ve seen everything. And you know nothing untoward has happened.
    â€œI hate to bring this up again, but it’s Frank.” Phoebe sighed. “He’s doing what he can to break my spirit.” Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “For the life of me I can’t understand how he could be your brother. And he . . .” She closed her eyes and bowed her head as her sobs overtook her. When she could cry no more, she sat with her legs bent and her arms encircling them, resting her head on her knees.
    â€œMama?”
    Phoebe blew her nose on her handkerchief and turned to see Will calling from the steps of the porch. “Here I am, Will,” she called as she got to her feet and stood by the grave.
    â€œYou have to come quick. July’s hungry.”
    â€œI’ll be right there.”
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    Standing at the window in his bedroom, Christian had been watching Phoebe for at least a half hour. A lump formed in his throat. How could one man be so lucky that he’d found a woman who loved him so much that her love transcended the grave?
    Again Christian felt a twinge of jealousy.
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    Will and July were sitting at the table when Phoebe returned to the house. July was playing a game with Will that July called trap. He encircled Will’s wrist with his thumb and forefinger, and Will tried to pull his hand free. When he was successful, his laughter seemed to bubble. It was good that he was so engaged that he didn’t notice his mother’s puffy eyes.
    â€œHow about eggs and bacon?” Phoebe asked, keeping her back to the two.
    â€œNo, no, Mama, I want collops,” Will said. “Mr. July, do you know what that is? It’s much better than that old bacon.”
    July laughed. “I’ve heard of it. If you say it’s good, I’ll give it a