Exposed (20 page)

Ms. Stewart cleared her throat. “Miss Powell, there’s no need to grin like a fool.”

June snapped her eyes back to the stooped old lady but kept her smile firmly in place.

“I’m having a wonderful day, Ms. Stewart. And you?”

The woman grumbled. “I’ll have a better day if you properly count my savings deposit.”

June finished counting the stack of twenty dollar bills and tucked the deposit along with the paper slip into her till. When she looked up again, Ivan was gone.

June had just finished assisting the man behind Ms. Stewart when she saw her. The bank was clearing, just the last of the day’s customers rushing in to make deposits and withdrawals before closing. Through the open door, June caught sight of Annette.

Her mother tottered past, boxes stacked nearly up to Annette’s eyes. More boxes. More buying. More money handed over to keep them afloat. 

The smile that’d flitted at June’s lips all day fell to a grim line. Why wouldn’t she just stop? 

June fisted her hand and ground her teeth, then slammed her hand against the cash drawer. Her hand burst through the wood with a smarting sting and she opened her fingers around wads of cash. She held tight until Edith crossed the bank floor, her thin lips curled and her eyelids half-lidded. 

“What does that Communist man want with you?” Edith demanded.

It took June a second to understand what Edith was saying. Anger and a horrible feeling of helplessness took root in her mind. 

“He’s not Communist,” June said. “And it’s really none of your concern to know my business.”

“It certainly is my business if he’s upsetting customers,” Edith hissed. “Everyone knows what his family is, what they did to this town with that sickness. We don’t need his kind here.”

Behind Edith, a customer cleared his throat. Edith spun around, and in profile June could see the woman’s mouth opening and closing.

“I sure hope you don’t talk like that about everyone when they leave,” the older man said, staring down Edith.

Edith fumbled with the key hanging around her neck and fumbled even worse over an excuse before giving up and stalking away. June had to bite back a triumphant grin. It felt good to finally speak her mind to Edith Applebaum.

That’s when it happened. Suddenly and completely, like falling backward. 

The money in the vault. 

June wanted to get into the vault. Had to. The idea took hold and wouldn’t let go. 

The vault. Go to the vault.

The vault was the key to stopping her mother once and for all. She didn’t need much—just enough to pay off the debts. If they could start fresh, they wouldn’t need June’s salary and she could finally leave. It was the only way.

“We need to count down the vault deposits,” Edith barked after the last customer shut the door behind him. She didn’t bother trying to hide the anger in her voice. 

That snapped June out of the fog. What had she been thinking? It was dangerous. Not only dangerous—it was criminal to consider using her power like this. June felt dazed, and her head ached.

Edith shouted June’s name, and when she didn’t move fast enough, Edith raised her eyebrows and motioned at the vault door. “Come on, girl. Are you dim?”

Edith shoved her key into the vault door and groaned with effort as she turned the huge, spoked handle. The steel door was a foot thick, studded with rods that slotted into place when the vault was closed. Edith pointed at the stacks of money piled on the narrow table in the center of the vault.

But before they could slide into chairs to start counting, someone knocked on the front door. Edith grumbled and looked between the stacks of money and the insistent knocking at the door.

“Start counting,” she said. “I’ll be a moment.” Then she shoved out of the door and slammed it shut behind her.

June’s fingers shook. Her breath came in short gasps. 

Take some
. 

June shook her head against the thoughts and had to start over on one stack of twenty dollar bills. It’d be so easy … slip a few hundreds into her pockets, fudge the numbers in the ledger. 

No one would ever find out. Probably.

June clenched her eyes shut, but money—easy, free money—flashed in her mind. 

“No!” June squeaked. She opened her eyes and stared at her trembling hands. A handful of twenties were crumpled in her palm. “No,” she said again, taking big, calming breaths.

But she couldn’t shake the thoughts. She stood suddenly, the chair scraping against the tiled floor and screeching against her ears. 

She had to get away, but she was trapped. Edith would know something was wrong if she tried to leave without finishing the counting. June paced the room, keeping her eyes off the money. She paused in front of one of the deposit boxes. Her hand lifted, seemingly of its own accord.

She pressed her fingers against the cold, hard metal. It was rough against the pads of her fingers, textured in the center and smooth steel along the edges. She felt the number etched on the box: 6124.

That number tickled at the back of her frazzled brain. She knew that number. It hit her: That was Mary Stewart’s deposit box.

She pressed harder, harder until the metal seemed to dissipate like heavy smoke under her power and her hand disappeared into the deposit box. 

Her fingers landed on something cold and hard … gold? Diamonds? Just a handful would pay all her mother’s bills and let her start a life of her own—the life she wanted to lead. 

Just a few diamonds. Who would miss them? Who would know? Mary Stewart was always making large deposits to her savings account, more in a week than June had saved in months. Why did she deserve that money more than June?

Her fingers closed around the objects, felt them clink together in her palm. Just a handful and she would be free.

Behind June, the vault door swung open with a long, dull groan. June ripped her hand from the deposit box, leaving the clutch of objects beyond the metal door marked 6124. 

She hissed with sudden pain as her hand yanked free, but bit down hard on the inside of her cheek and pressed her hands behind her back.

She spun and faced Edith. The older woman pursed her thin lips together and glared.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing,” June said too quickly. 

Through the partially opened vault door, June heard another door slam. Edith scowled and held one spindly finger up. “Don’t move.”

Edith strode from the vault and was back a second later. “You forgot to lock the front door.” 

June took a breath. They both knew Edith had that responsibility. 

“I’m sorry,” June said, needlessly apologizing. “Should we finish the counting?” She gestured at the neat stacks of cash on the table and the open ledger before them. But then she saw how red her hand was and hid it again.

Edith walked slowly into the room, her heavy, black shoes clacking across the tiles like a snare drum. She touched the stacked money, peered at the ledger book for a long minute. June stood beside her, her mind wildfire and her heart hammering.

“I saw you looking at those boxes,” Edith said, accusation at the edges of her voice. She rattled the vault key hanging from the chain around her neck and stared at June with hatred in her eyes. She didn’t say anything more, didn’t need to. The accusation was plain.

June pulled her shoulders back and stood straight. She held Edith’s gaze and didn’t waver. But inside she was frantic.

“You’ll never see inside those boxes without a customer opening them for you.” Then the horrible woman gestured to the chair. “Go on, then. Finish up the counting.”

June slid into the seat with as much dignity as she could and counted down the last two stacks of money. Her hands only trembled a bit, as much from anger at Edith as from shame and terror at what she had intended to do before Edith walked in. Walked in and saved her. 

June wrote the last numbers in the ledger—all while Edith hovered just over her shoulder—and stood to leave. But Edith stopped her at the door to the vault.

“You better tell that Sokolov man to leave you alone,” Edith hissed. She stalked closer, a smirk marring her face. “You think you’re so secure in this job, think you can unseat me and embarrass me in front of others. But if I find out you’re carrying on with that Commie, don’t think I won’t tell Mr. Briggs Senior. Your friendship with Clayton won’t be enough to stop you then, will it? Then we’ll see how comfortable you are.”

June stumbled over her feet, over her excuse. “No,” she said, eyes roving over the vault, Edith, the dimmed lights inside the closed bank. “Nothing’s happening with him.” 

This job was her only lifeline. Her only real way of earning the life she wanted. She shook her head at Edith, tried to hide the terror in her eyes. “I barely even know Ivan. Truly.”

And she fled. 

Shame ate away at her. Shame for seriously considering stealing from her employer, from the people of Independence Falls. And shame for denying who Ivan was to her. 

Her face burned and tears—angry, shameful tears—threatened to spill over her lashes and run down her cheeks. She dashed through the quiet, dark bank and nearly ran headlong into the trash can by the door. There were flowers stuffed inside of it, broken stems half spilling from the container.

June steadied herself for a moment against the door handle, gathered her breath. Then she strode out into the late afternoon sunshine, so harsh and bright compared to how she felt inside. 

She ran straight into Ivan.

“Ivan,” June yelped, reeling away from him.

His eyes. June froze, but nothing was as frozen as his eyes. They were chips of ice.

“You could have at least pretended,” Ivan hissed. He jerked his head toward the bank door.

Oh no. Had he heard? Had Ivan somehow heard her deny him to Edith? 

June’s stomach roiled and she was afraid she might be sick. She reached out for the edge of the brick building, and the rough edge bit into her already-tender hand. Ivan just glared.

“Ivan, I—”

“Don’t even try, June. You can’t talk your way out of this. I saw clear enough what you really think.” His anger was a sudden storm, and June cowed in the face of it.

His voice was crawling up, up, up until he practically shouted. June smarted and darted a look around. Edith was locking up the bank door just a few yards from them, and the way the woman’s head tilted made her eavesdropping plain. 

“Ivan, please,” June whispered, eyes still darting to see who watched them. “If we just go somewhere quiet to talk.”

But that just made Ivan’s face turn to thunder.

“Jesus. Stop trying to see who’s watching.” He shook his head, and his tone was deadly when he spoke again. “You’re such a fraud. I trusted you to see my home, my family, and you care more for what these people think. The people who suspect my family of ….” Ivan stopped short and laughed harshly. “Whatever I thought I saw in you, it was all false. It was all an act.”

June’s shoulders hunched forward, like that would offer any bit of protection against the anger of Ivan’s words, against his hurt. 

And he was right. It made her burn with shame to realize, but he was so right. 

She’d just denied the truth when Edith pressed her, hadn’t she? She’d downplayed who Ivan was to her when Meg asked. Ivan deserved so much better.

And then it got worse.

Meg, Will, and Frank strolled out of the soda fountain down the way and spotted June. And then another door opened and Butch, Ralph, and Danny sauntered out of the diner. June was surrounded, cornered.

Meg waved cheerily at her, and Frank called her name. And she couldn’t deny to herself what she was feeling—embarrassed. All these people watching them, judging them. She didn’t want people gossiping about her. 

Ivan nearly spit in disgust. “Go to your friends.”

“Just stop,” June said. “Ivan, stop for a second and listen to me. What you—”

But Ivan didn’t give her a chance to continue. He turned on a heel and stalked away from June.

“Ivan!” She called after him, but not loudly enough to show she really cared.

“Nice try, Commie,” Butch sneered as Ivan tried to shoulder past them. “Maybe try it on with Old Applebaum. She’s probably desperate for it.” 

Ralph slapped at Butch and made a rude pumping motion with his hips, then squealed with laughter. But the laughter choked off in an instant. 

Ivan had his arm at Ralph’s throat and slammed the man against the side of a building. Butch snarled and lunged at Ivan, but he was quick. Ivan rammed his arm harder against Ralph’s throat even as the pudgy man tried to claw at him and shoved Butch away with his free arm. Butch staggered from the push and landed hard on his butt. His head snapped back against the wall.

Butch grabbed his head and fell over on the sidewalk, groaning. Everyone in the street froze, watching them. 

Without looking down—without looking back at June—Ivan stepped over Butch’s splayed legs and walked away.

June wrapped her arms around herself. Part of her wanted to run after Ivan and circle him in her arms, but she stopped. He’d only yell at her, only think the worst possible thing. It’d make June angry if she wasn’t so consumed with shame.

She hated herself for it. For caring too much what others thought. For choosing the security of her job instead of standing up for Ivan. But she couldn’t make herself move. 

“Junie?” Meg’s voice was soft at her side, but still she jumped. 

Frank tried to put his arm around her shoulder and squeeze her close, but June pushed him off. “Don’t, Frank. Just don’t.” 

His face bloomed with red embarrassment and he covered it with a shrill laugh. The old June would have fallen over herself to make him feel better. But she didn’t have the energy right now. He’d just have to be offended.

Instead, June melted against Meg’s shoulder. Meg wrapped an arm around June and gently led her away. “It’ll be okay.”

“She said I’d be fired,” June whispered, almost to herself. “If they found out about Ivan, she said they’d fire me.”

It was Will who spoke up. “What happened, June? No one will fire you.”