Shine On (25 page)

She rolled her eyes and clamped her mouth shut in a firm line.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll answer your question when you’ve answered mine,” he said.

She sighed, frustrated, “Really mature, Silas. Are we ten years old?”

This time he didn’t answer.

“I’m going to ask you again and I want to know the truth. Why were you snooping around back here?” he repeated.

She had to keep the truth from him about Walter—he was like family—but Mr. Thomas was not. Emmie glanced uneasily over at the men who had now stopped unloading and were smoking next to the delivery truck. She could see them periodically looking over at her.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes in silent resolve. “I will explain why I’m here but I really do need to get back to work. Can we talk tonight?”

Silas knew he had to make a choice. He was tired of this arguing. She was her and he was him. He had to decide to keep his guard up or let it go. He moved his hand from its resting place on the wall and rubbed his jaw. Emmie noticed that he did that a lot when he was working something out in his mind.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Tonight is good I guess.”

“Okay.” She nodded again and started to walk past him. “I promise. I’ll tell ya what made me come down here today.”

He caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He didn’t say anything about the gesture but fell into step alongside her.

After a few steps he said, “I still don’t like that you won’t tell me the name.”

“I know. And I wish I could. Maybe when this is all through, I will. Not the name probably but I’ll be able to explain it better,” she shrugged.

“Emmie, it needs to be ended for you now.” He stopped when they reached the center of the square, near the fountain. “This isn’t a game. You have to stop.” His voice was soft, pleading.

“I know…” she started. “That’s what…” she stumbled over Walter’s name, “he said too.” That’s what he’d told her the day she gave him the apple pie ’shine.

“You know that if you would tell me, I would take care of whatever it is you feel like you need to finish.” He paused thinking of what to say next. “I can do things Emmie. I can take care of things, but I have to know what’s going on.”

Her heart shouted, “Tell him.” She knew he wasn’t lying. Unloading that apple pie ’shine, getting the money. With his connections at the speakeasy and the blind pig, he could probably have it done in ten minutes. Maybe she could get all the moonshine back from Walt and let Silas just take care of it. But she couldn’t take the risk of selling out Walt.

“I appreciate that. But it is my problem to fix,” she said softly.

He nodded accepting her answer but added, “I don’t like this.”

“So, are we still on for tonight? I’ll explain everything about my leisure walk through the alley,” she smiled.

“Yes, I’ll have to meet you at Ava’s okay? I have to work late—it will probably be at least seven or eight,” he said as they neared Mr. Thomas’s store. Emmie agreed.

“Back to work for me,” she said, making her feet move to the door.

“He treating you okay?” Silas nodded through the door toward Mr. Thomas.

She nodded. “It’s fine, but I really am about ten minutes late. And trust me, he’ll notice. He docked my pay by forty-five minutes the day I had to take the flowers back to you.” Emmie rolled her eyes as she looked back at the store.

Silas stood there and thought for a minute. “You won’t let me fix the moonshine problem but I can take care of this. Will you let me?” he asked.

Emmie shrugged and nodded. How in the world was he going to talk Mr. Thomas out of docking her pay? Mr. Thomas didn’t even like him. She started to tell him as much but she didn’t have the chance. Without saying another word, Silas walked ahead of her into the store. Emmie scrunched her eyebrows together confused. She followed in behind him, walked to the counter, and put her purse away.

Mr. Thomas looked torn. He glanced a few times at Emmie then Silas. His lips puckered together like he’d just earned first place in a lemon-sucking contest. After a passing look of disgust at Emmie, he decided to turn his attention to Silas.

Emmie made her way back over to the dishes she’d began unboxing this morning and picked up where she had left off.

“Mr. McDowell, I thought I made it clear that you were going to purchase your goods elsewhere.” Mr. Thomas said as he walked behind the counter. He might be mouthy but he wanted some space between himself and Silas.

“Oh Paul, I think you’ll find my money is as good as anyone else’s.” Silas moved around the store easily. He grabbed tobacco, some penny candy, and a pack of playing cards. What was he doing?

Then he walked to the counter grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. She recognized that grin, it was devilish. Mr. Thomas stood and looked at him for a moment. For a second Emmie thought he might refuse Silas service. But at last he rang up the items and gave Silas his total. His voice was angry and clipped. Emmie did her best not to pay attention to the interaction or she may explode with laughter. This was the most absurd exchange she had ever seen.

When Mr. Thomas got out a brown bag and started to package the goods Silas put his hand on the top and smashed it close. “Oh, you can just keep your bag, Paul. I don’t need it. See this,” he held up the tobacco, ‘it’s for me. I can just keeping right here in my pocket.” He opened his coat and slid the small pouch into the pocket of his vest. He was wearing the strangest suspenders she’d ever seen. Emmie could see the faintest tan line of leather straps around his shoulders on the outside of his vest. Mr. Thomas looked annoyed.

“And these,” he held up the candy sticks, “these are for my sweet girl.” He nodded in Emmie’s direction. Silas turned and closed the few feet between them, “I like to tell her she’s made of sugar… so sweet she’ll melt in the rain.” He winked, leaned in, and planted a loud, showy kiss on her lips. Emmie dropped the plate she was holding. Mr. Thomas nearly lost it.

When Silas stepped away from her he noticed that she looked like she was about to die—either from embarrassment or amusement. He hoped she was amused.

“Guess I better throw in a few dollars for that plate.” He tossed a few more bills on the table.

“But don’t worry, Paul. I didn’t leave you out. These are for you. He slid the playing cards across the table and patted them a couple of times. A gift from me to you,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Why ever would I want these cards, Silas?” Mr. Thomas spit at him as he turned to walk away.

“Oh, I don’t know. If you play your cards right, maybe next time you prey on a desperate young girl, she’ll pick you… Daddy,” Silas glared at him. Daring him to say anything else.

Emmie’s mouth fell open. She didn’t even bother to close it as he walked past her, squeezed her hand, whispered quickly and quietly in her ear, “Trust me Em, he’s not thinking about the fact you were ten minutes late from lunch.”

Without another glance, Silas turned and left the shop. She looked up at Mr. Thomas, unsure what to say. Emmie honestly didn’t know how she felt about that little show. Part of her was cheering. Okay, a huge part of her was cheering… but another part, the more sensible part, was afraid he’d crossed some invisible line.

Mr. Thomas did not look up from the cards for a long time. He gripped the counter until his knuckles turned white. He opened his mouth to speak to her but then just shook his head. Muttering something to himself, he turned and walked into the office slamming the door behind him.

Chapter Thirty-seven

M
r. Thomas didn’t come out of the office for the rest of the afternoon, which was really unusual. Apparently, he hadn’t yet shaken off the Silas Show. Although Emmie wanted to enjoy every moment of the confrontation that had transpired, she felt a bit bad for him in spite of herself.

“Mr. Thomas, I’m heading out for the day,” she called gathering her belongings.

No response. She was met with only the sound of shuffling papers from inside the office to let her know he was alive in there.

Emmie quietly walked over to the door that was pulled closed and knocked gently. “Are you okay in there?” She tried to keep her voice soft and kind like she was talking to a wounded animal.

“Emma, I am very busy.” His tone short, his voice off. When most men got angry their voice got deeper, growly, gruff. But not Mr. Thomas, it got higher, scratchier, like nails on a chalkboard.

It was apparently going to take him some time to get over this, which was understandable. Silas had utterly humiliated him. She hoped things were better by tomorrow. Emmie really didn’t want to sit through another day like today. Between Will’s fight this morning and Silas’s in the afternoon, that store was a toxic place to be.

“Miss Emmie?” a quiet voice called from behind her as she walked on down the street. She glanced around to see Max shuffling up to her. Spotty was diligently walking at his side. The dog always had loved Max. She hadn’t even realized either of them were sitting on the bench outside of the shop.

“Oh Max! I am so sorry. I forgot all about our session this afternoon. It’s been a long day,” she explained.

“Well, if you are busy, we can just skip it today. It’s fine.” He walked back to the bench to collect his books.

He looked so disappointed. As he turned back to her she noticed an ugly purple bruise under his right eye.

“Max, what on earth happened to your eye?” She grabbed his chin gently and pulled his face up for a closer inspection.

His face flushed crimson and he bit his lower lip. It was obvious he didn’t want to tell her.

“Did someone do this to you?” Emmie felt her temper flair. She’d heard Walt’s son-in-law was a horrible father but she was pretty sure he was out of the picture and had been for years. Who on earth would have done this?

Max shook his head no in a quick jerky motion. His mouth was set in a heavy frown. It was a younger version of one she’d seen on Walter when she left the barn the other night.

“Max you will tell me who did this to you. Or you are gonna tell your grandparents. You do not keep these things a secret.” Her voice left no room for argument.

Max sighed and pulled away from her. “It’s just embarrassing, alright?”

He walked back over and sat on the bench staring straight ahead. Emmie knelt down next to him, so they were on level ground. The dog walked over and plopped down at their feet. Max reached his good arm down and rubbed Spotty’s belly.

“I’m not going to laugh. You wouldn’t believe all the embarrassing things I’ve done lately,” she said.

Her mind flashed back through the events of the last few weeks: the apple pie ’shine, and her investigation attempts in the alley today. Both of those things were done completely in vain. That moonshine was still hidden somewhere on Walter’s farm. She had learned absolutely nothing from her nosey walk around the shoe store. Well, other than men were stocking the storeroom of a shoe store and that wasn’t exactly newsworthy. The only thing interesting about that was the guy from Smith’s Grove was there. It was weird that that guy delivered shoes and worked at the restaurant/speakeasy. Seemed like an odd job combination to her. But the strangest thing was that for some reason they felt compelled to call Silas. The whole combination was off but her brain could not get it all to click together.

“Okay, I trust ya not to laugh,” Max finally said, pulling her out of her daydreaming. He looked down at the dog and started talking.

“Today, I got so excited when Cole asked me to play ball. I ain’t never had a single town kid ask me to play baseball. Most folks don’t want me on their team.” He held up his bent arm that he struggled to move, his wrist falling limper than it should. It wasn’t that he couldn’t move it, it was just more difficult. He put his hand back down and finished talking. “We met behind the theater after lunch. Cole loaned me his glove and said we needed to warm up. That means throwing the ball back and forth, Miss Emmie,” he told her.

Emmie nodded, encouraging him to continue.

As he started to speak his little bottom lip began to tremble. “I was so happy, Miss Emmie. I felt just like them boys… no one was really staring at me or nothing. It was like they didn’t even care about my slow arm. But the first pitch he threw…” His voice cracked and he pointed a sharp motion to his eye with his good hand.

“Most the kids were laughing, everybody but Cole, anyway. He probably would have but he just felt bad because he was the one that did it.” Max looked down as a single tear escaped his eye and he quickly brushed it away. “I’m so dumb. I don’t know what I was thinking that I could be like them.”

“Oh Max.” She pulled him up into her arms and patted his head. “Sounds like you have had one of those days. I promise you in two weeks no one will even remember that ballgame and that shiner will be all healed up. See look that this. I’m clumsy too. I bet you didn’t even notice it, right?” She brushed her hair back from her face and pointed to the fading bruise on her cheek.

He squinted his eyes and leaned in for a closer look. When he pulled back his eyes were wide. “You was clumsy too, Miss Emmie?” he asked.

“Yep,” she smiled and added, “you want me to run inside the store and get you some ice?”