Come Rain or Shine (9 page)

Trick looked over at him like he was a mad man. “You know she’s angry, right?”

“Yeah, she won’t be though, when she figures it out,” he said.

“Why not just tell her? Then you could see her enjoy it,” Trick asked honestly.

Silas shrugged and pulled a cigarette from his vest pocket. “It’s a part of it too, I guess. Emmie loves to figure things out.” His mind flashed back to the way she had studied the newspapers trying to help him with the revenuer. “She will enjoy it more this way. I’ve told Jemma not to explain until they get there.”

“You sure are going to a lot of trouble for this,” Trick said.

“She’s worth it. Her light’s starting to come back,” Silas said.

“You know none of that was your fault. She’s a strong girl. She can hold up to it,” he said, looking at his older brother.

Silas nodded as he took a draw from his cigarette.

“Have you given any thought to the fact you don’t have much of an excuse to go back to Kentucky anymore?” Trick asked.

“I have,” Silas answered. “Have you?”

“I have,” Trick repeated his brother’s words. He paused for a moment and then added, “But Millie and I aren’t like you and Emmie. We’ve not been sharing a bed for the past two months.”

Silas stopped in the street and turned to stare down his brother.

Trick put his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean for that to sound that way. I just meant . . . I don’t know. Just forget about it. It’s none of my business anyway.”

“You’re right. It’s not any of your damn business,” he said, beginning to walk again. “She’s still pure though. I’m only saying it to you because I don’t want you thinking things that aren’t true about her.”

Trick was at a loss for words. He didn’t know if he was more surprised that Emmie was a virgin or that Silas had told him.

“You’re kidding me,” he said without thinking. “Look, I’m sorry. Let’s just stop this little heart to heart, okay?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Silas said, stomping out his cigarette. They walked for a few more blocks before either spoke.

“Are you holding out because you’re not sure she’s
it
for you?” Trick asked.

Of course Trick couldn’t leave it alone. It took Silas a moment to process what his brother was asking. He sighed and rubbed his jaw before he answered.

“She’s
it
for me,” he said with resolve.

“What is it then? Are you just trying to do right by her so she doesn’t end up like Ava?” Trick asked.

“I guess,” Silas said, rubbing his jaw again. He was not enjoying this conversation but he continued because it was a decision he needed to make. Trick’s easy way with words often helped him think through things he would have otherwise avoided. “I just don’t want to take anything else from her that I can’t give back.”

Trick didn’t have a reply for that statement. So, he took a play from Silas’s book. He was quiet until his brother started to speak again.

“If we get married she can’t teach. You know that. They aren’t ever going to let a married lady be a teacher. I’ve checked everywhere from here to Kentucky. Every school system seems to have the same guidelines. Last week I managed to call some superintendent in Louisville. Thought I’d check to see if there was any amount of donation that would persuade him or his schools to change the rule. He was so upset he nearly hung up the telephone on me. It’s a ridiculous rule, isn’t it? What do they think? She might fill the kids’ heads with all the secrets of being a married woman,” he said sarcastically. “So here I am. Walking around in Chicago with no clue what to do next. I can’t move my life to Bowling Green.” Silas had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the law office. He paced the length of the doorway before he finished his thought. “I cannot expect her to move up here with no promise of a future. So I guess I know the right thing to do. Support her through school and just wait around until she’s tired of teaching.”

“Well, that’s one plan I guess,” Trick said. “Does she know about the rules?”

“I’m not sure. If she does she’s never brought it up,” Silas said.

“Maybe you should give her the choice,” he suggested to his older brother.

“What . . . say me or your dreams? I can’t do that.” Silas frowned.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean maybe she has changed her mind,” Trick suggested. “I haven’t even heard her talk about school lately.”

“Because she’s been making apple pie moonshine. That’s my point. She needs something to do. She’s never just going to be a kept woman. She wasn’t raised like Jemma,” he explained.

“I know but I’m saying this sounds like something you should talk to her about. You’ve obviously been thinking a lot about it,” Trick retorted.

Silas rubbed his face and nodded toward the door of the firm. “Come on. We’re late.” He was dismissing the conversation and they both knew it. Trick didn’t fight it though. It really wasn’t any of his business. Never in his life had he seen his brother go to so much effort for a girl.

*

Emmie and Jemma were let out of the car in front of a store just as she had expected. What she hadn’t expected was the type of store. It was just a small general store that was not so different from Mr. Thomas’s back home on the square. It seemed to have a little bit of everything.

“Back here,” Jemma said, leading the way to the back right corner of the small shop.

Emmie frowned as she spotted what Silas’s sister was buying. She was having the man behind the counter bag up candy sticks: licorice, peppermint, apple—every kind you could imagine.

“Get about five you like and two or three you don’t like. That seems to work well for me,” Jemma said before turning back to the man to get a few bottles of soda.

Emmie opened her mouth to ask why in the world they were buying gobs of candy, but the younger girl handed the man behind the counter one more piece of candy and moved to a different aisle. Emmie wasted no time mimicking Jemma’s motions, choosing sweets, and following her to the other aisle.

She was in a children’s aisle. There were beautiful picture books and every type school supply you could imagine. Jemma handed her a basket and told her to choose one book appropriate for a primary-aged child and a few art supplies that kids would enjoy. She might have just picked out a boatload of actual candy, but searching through these books and school supplies made her feel like a kid in a candy store. Jemma caught her looking at the price tag on one of the books.

The younger girl put her hand on Emmie’s as she spoke gently, “Silas wanted you to pick out the best one and not worry about money. That’s why he gave you the cash.”

Emmie put a lovely book of fairy tales in her basket without looking down. “Jemma what are we doing?” she asked.

Jemma smiled and made an imaginary motion of locking her lips. “He made me promise not to tell you until we got there. Pick out some art supplies. We’ve got to hurry. The car will be back in five minutes.”

Emmie groaned inwardly. Of course, he had planned this. She needed these supplies for whatever the next thing was. Judging by the items in her basket, children were involved. Beans and Cornbread. Sweet Tea. Picture Books. Kids. Today was about the things she liked and he’d worked so hard to plan it. She had sold him short believing that he was sending her off with a stack of cash for something frivolous like a new dress.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind she closed her eyes and saw him in the cabin. Shooting. Angry. Broken.
You’re a moll, a gangster’s girl.
Those were the ugly words the revenuer had thrown at her. It couldn’t be true. She shook her head to clear the memory. She wouldn’t let that man poison her mind against Silas. Silas was the kindest man she had ever known outside of Walter. He wasn’t perfect but neither was she. Didn’t everyone make the best choice they could in the moment they were in? That doesn’t make things okay, but it shouldn’t make you judge someone either. That revenuer and Mr. Thomas shouldn’t have kidnapped her. Life wasn’t black and white; life was shades of gray.

“Are you ready?” Jemma asked from the counter.

Emmie snapped back into the reality that surrounded her.

She smiled as she said, “Yes.”

Chapter Fourteen

T
he car pulled up in front of an enormous red brick house just on the outside of the city. Jemma thanked the driver and asked him to return in an hour. Emmie stepped out onto the sidewalk and pulled her coat closer to her body. The wind was piercing today. She again felt thankful to Silas. Without the coat and warmer clothes she would have been freezing. The girls quickly made their way to the door. Emmie noticed an old chipped sign with fading white letters hanging over the front door reading
Bell House
.

Jemma opened the door and walked in ahead of her. The younger girl looked so relaxed. Emmie tried to match her ease and grace but she came up short. The entry hall was littered with people. It was loud and filled with unfamiliar accents and languages. Mismatched rocking chairs lined one wall that was opposite a dark wooden staircase. The girls had to weave in and out to maneuver around the people in the wide entry hall. Emmie balanced the basket with supplies on one arm and pulled her purse closer to her body. She could feel the curious eyes of strangers focused on her. She tried to smile and nod a polite hello but most of the folks went on about their business without giving her much attention. At first she thought it was her clothes. She’d shown up here in all this brand new finery, but their frocks were worn to threads. Many of them seemed to be depending on mismatched layers of hand-me-down clothes to keep warm. However, when she paid closer attention, she realized that it couldn’t be the clothes causing their standoff nature. Jemma was dressed just as nice as she was and several of the people had either kissed her cheek or patted her kindly as she walked by them. Jemma was all smiles for them. Right now she seemed to possess the same easy charm as her brothers.

Emmie realized it wasn’t about clothes; it was about relationships. She remembered Jemma mentioning something at Silas’s house about volunteering in the city and getting credit for one of her classes. Jemma must come here to work with these people. Silas’s sister grabbed Emmie’s hand and led her into a small room. There was an old table that took up nearly every inch of the space in the tiny office. A woman, who couldn’t have been much older than thirty, sat in-between two middle-aged men. All three of them were frowning at a large stack of paperwork spread before them. The three looked up as soon as the girls entered the room. When the woman saw Jemma, her face split into a wide grin.

“Jemma, hello girl. The little ones are eager for you today. I hear you’ve bribed them again,” she teased.

“I like to think of it as treating them for a job well done,” she said.

“Mr. Spugnardi and Mr. Enniso, this is Miss Jemma McDowell. Say hello to Miss Jemma.” She spoke a little louder. The two nodded and mumbled “hello” under their breath. “Say it loud and confident. Be proud. You’ve worked hard to get here.”

“Hello, Miss Jemma,” the men said in a heavy Italian accent.

The lady looked at Jemma, anticipating her response. Jemma seemed comfortable with the exchange. She told them it was nice to meet them and they reciprocated the greeting. The second time they spoke much louder and more confident. The lady looked proud.

“Well done, men. You do that tomorrow and you’ll impress those employers, I guarantee it,” she said before turning her attention back to the girls. “You must be the girl from Kentucky.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emmie said. “My name is Emma but most people call me Emmie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Emmie. I’m Leigh Matthews. My mother founded the Bell House. Bell is my maiden name. I help her run it now.”

“Thank you for letting me come along with Jemma today.”

“We are always happy for the extra help. Especially if you are friends of the McDowells,” she explained. “Michael McDowell has been a huge supporter of our house for years.”

“Oh, that reminds me. He asked me to give this to you for supplies.” Jemma produced an envelope filled with cash.

“He has always been generous. I’ll send him a thank-you letter first thing tomorrow,” Mrs. Matthews said. “You two had better head upstairs. I need to finish helping these two fine young men fill out paperwork for a potential employment opportunity that has come up.”

Emmie followed Jemma up the stairs. “So, this is a house for immigrants? Folks were speaking all kinds of languages downstairs. I’ve never heard anything like it. It’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” Jemma said, still climbing the stairs. “Mrs. Bell and her daughter run this place. They say we have a duty and a responsibility as Americans to help teach and support our newest citizens. Pop is all for it. When he first moved here, Mrs. Bell really helped him settle into Chicago. She may have only been a few years older than Pop but her family had connections. Pop didn’t have very much money back then. But what he lacked in resources he made up for in resourcefulness and dedication. Mrs. Bell helped get him a job at a law firm running errands when he was just out of school. He said that job changed his life. She started this house when he was in law school. He’s supported it ever since.”