Shine On (29 page)

Emmie walked over and sat on the sofa and stared down at the ground trying to piece it all together. She had to call him. She glanced around the room in search of a phone.

“Emmie, Emmie.” She felt his hands around her shoulders shaking her out of her thoughts.

For the first time she left her thoughts and focused on him. “What the hell is going on in there?” He tapped her forehead. “Were you even listening to me?”

She shook her head no, honestly. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I’m confused. How much of Ronnie’s ’shine did he have?”

Silas stopped moving. He knelt down in front of her, putting his hands on her knees. Then he brought his hands together and gazed up at her like he was trying to read her mind. He looked like he did at church. Kneeling, praying, maybe some remorse.

For the first time he realized she knew more than he thought. More than just the identity of some hillbilly bootlegger.

“Emmie, be straight with me.” His hands clasped together tighter like he was holding them down. She could see his veins on his neck popping out as his jaw clenched.

“Were you helping Ronnie with the bootlegging?” he asked point blank. The lack of emotion or inflection in his voice was more frightening than the little fit he’d had earlier.

“No,” she answered honestly. “When he was alive, I didn’t even know.”

Silas nodded, accepting her information as the truth. “Did you know he owed people product or money?”

“No.” She shook her head. Her eyes wide, “Who did he owe?”

He ignored her question. “That man in there,” he pointed his finger toward the pig, “you are telling me he is not the man you gave your stepfather’s ’shine to?”

“No.” She swallowed. “He’s not. I’ve only seen him a few times. He and Ronnie would talk at church or social functions. Just in passing. I don’t think they were real close or anything. A few days after Ronnie’s funeral Sam showed up at my door. He said Ronnie had borrowed his tools to work on the truck before he passed. I let him into the barn and he got them out. I never saw him again, well… until the Johnson’s barn party the other night. And that was it, I swear.”

Silas was quite, processing the information. He nodded. “Did he take the tools?”

“Yeah. I mean. I think so. I was running late for work but he didn’t come back again, so I guess he got what he needed.” As soon as the words left her mouth she knew.

“You think he was stealing Ronnie’s moonshine?” she asked.

Silas shrugged, “Maybe stealing, maybe taking something he was promised.”

That hit her hard. She knew Ronnie was a drunk but he wasn’t dumb. Was he out making promises to people that he didn’t keep? Silas could tell her wheels were spinning.

“So, how long have you known?” he asked, still speaking in calm indifference.

Emmie swallowed hard. These were the parts she hadn’t spoken to anyone. Could she trust him? She felt her hands start to tremble. He must have too. He grabbed her forearms firmly and ran his hands down the length of her arm without speaking. When he got to her hands he brought them together and covered them with his, kissing her fingertips softly. This was certainly a new way to use his hands in an interrogation. He stared down at them for a moment then brought his eyes back up to her. They were piercing, serious, alive.

“I need you, Emmie.” His voice caught in his throat. He swallowed and shook his head. That came out different than he meant. He looked up at her out of curiosity. How would she take that?

Her eyes were wide with surprise.

“I need your help with all of this. I don’t understand where you fit in.” He laughed without humor. He was on the balance of control here. “Because obviously you do. Or you wouldn’t fucking be here.” He let go of her hands and rubbed his face. He stood and stretched his legs. “I’ve got to know, Emmie.”

She licked her lips and nodded staring up at him.

“Okay.” She nodded again like she was convincing herself that she could say the words… that she could trust him.

“It was the night Ava’s family came back. We were talking about Ronnie, the moonshine we’d once found as kids. It was… in the barn.” She cursed herself for never questioning Sam being in the barn. “And it got me thinking. I started to wonder why Ronnie was gone all hours of the night. Why our money always came in spurts. I had to know. So, for the next few days I roamed our property looking for a still, more out of curiosity than a desire to be involved. Each time I thought about giving up the hunt for it, I’d pass the scorched remains of that tree again where he crashed and just keep on looking. It took a little over a week but I found it.” She took a deep breath. This was getting to the tricky part of the story.

“But…” she sighed, “Ronnie may have been dead, but the still wasn’t.”

He arched his brow then motioned for her to continue.

Emmie stood and wiped her hands on the skirt of her dress and walked the length of the room. She didn’t stop until she was on the opposite side staring at some old water-damaged oil painting. Silas closed the distance between them in a few steps. He put his arm around her waist and slowly turned her around. He wanted to be looking at her face when she told the rest of the story. He knew whatever was coming was crucial.

She took a step and leaned her back against the wall. One arm covered her stomach the other her mouth.

“I want to tell you. I’m just afraid.” Her eyes searched his.

“Emmie, do you honestly think I would hurt you?” He brushed her temple with his fingertips. “The things you have been keeping from me are driving me crazy. But, I would never hurt you. You,” he paused. He had not expected or wanted the conversation to turn to this. “You mean more to me than…” he shrugged, unable to finish the sentence. He didn’t really have the words to say. She meant more to him than he wanted to admit to himself much less say it out loud.

She nodded because the words failed her. She hoped he knew she felt the same way.

He ran his hands over his eyes to compose himself. “But Em, it doesn’t change the fact that I have to know.”

“It’s not me I’m afraid for. It’s him. I don’t want to drag him into all of this… I don’t want you to hurt him,” she explained.

Silas’s nostrils flared and his look turned to stone. Was she in love with this man? He fought a wave of jealousy. He had to keep it under control.

“But…” she continued, “I trust you. It sounds like this may be deeper than he knew. If someone finds out I gave him moonshine… he may be in trouble too. Maybe you can help him… we can fix this together?”

Not likely. Silas kept his thoughts to himself.

“So when I got to the cave the still was up and going and he was there. I was scared at first because I didn’t know who I’d find at the still.” She intentionally left out his name. She could come back to that point later.

“You walked right up to a still… Emmie, you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you,” he said.

Emmie laughed. “Well, I’d be lying if I said my knees weren’t knocking. But he wouldn’t shoot me.”

Silas flexed the muscles of his jaw. He and Emmie were way too familiar for his liking.

“And he was on my land. So, that’s what I told him. If he was gonna be making ’shine on my land. I was going to need some money.” She felt so embarrassed telling this part.

His mouth actually dropped open and he was dumbstruck. “My God, Emmie! Are you an idiot?”

Emmie smiled at his expression. Some sick part of her loved his reaction. It felt good to tell someone. “I guess. And he was putting this goop on the pipes. But it wasn’t any good. It was so thin it just kept sliding right down the sides. Bless his heart. I was trying to talk my way into helping him. Silas, you know it wasn’t the ’shine I wanted to make… I just needed the money. And I am so tired of workin’ for Mr. Thomas and I want so desperately to go to school.

“I saw that little sack of flour in the corner. I’m used to baking and I know about making a good batter. What he had was way too thin to keep the steam from escaping those pipes. So I mixed up a thicker batch. He told me he would pay me a dollar a week to make him paste.”

Now, Silas was sure he was going to kill this guy. Any man who would agree to bring some naive girl like Emmie into his bootlegging scheme deserved to be shot.

“So, you’ve been making paste?” Silas asked, keeping judgment from his voice.

“Well, I did. I was really good at it too. I beat the fire out of an old tea kettle and experimented on…” she started but cut herself off when she saw his face. He didn’t look as excited about her experiments as she was. “I guess that’s beside the point. Ava and I found all those jars in the house and I showed them to him. Then there wasn’t any reason for him to keep up the process. He said it would take him months or more to sell all that.”

Silas paused thinking. “You think he could have given the jars to Sam?”

“I know he didn’t.” Her heart caught in her chest. She dreaded telling him this next part almost as much as she didn’t want to tell him about Walt.

“How do you know?” he asked, confused.

The door flew open to reveal a somewhat disheveled Trick in the doorway. “Silas we need you. He’s ready,” he said, panting.

“Trick, I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, never looking away from Emmie.

“Silas, seriously brother,” he pleaded. “She’s going to have to wait.”

It wasn’t often that Trick spoke up to Silas. He knew that he needed to go but also knew whatever Emmie was getting ready to share was important.

He looked at his brother then back at her. Her breathing was fast and her hands were trembling.

“I’ll go back in there with you. It’s easier for me just to show you than to say it anyway,” she said, stepping around him.

Silas had no idea what she was going to show him. But he knew she was scared. He grabbed her hand and together they walked back into the pig.

Chapter Forty-two

W
hen they walked past the door where he wanted Silas to go Trick shouted, “Come on, Silas.”

Silas glared at his brother and held up a finger telling him to wait a minute. He had to see this before he went back into that room. This whole ordeal was all related and somehow Emmie was the missing piece. As they reached the narrow aisle between the bar and row of tables he pushed her in front of him, never letting go of her arm. She had to lead since he had no idea where they were going… and this was his family’s pig. That irony was not lost on him. As they drew nearer to Ava, Emmie noticed the young man, Shane, had taken her seat. He and Ava were in the midst of some conversation. It was apparently hilarious because they were laughing so hard her face was red.

“Ava, where’s my drink?” Emmie asked.

She was surprised when Shane was the one to answer. “Oh, this was yours? I’m sorry sweetheart. I wasn’t thinking and I just drank the whole thing. I’ll get you another.”

Ava glanced from Silas to Emmie a few times before speaking. She stood up to her full height, leaned down, and whispered in her friend’s ear, “Emmie, honey you don’t want to do this. Not now.” When she pulled back she was looking right at Silas.

“I appreciate the advice but I’ve got to.” Emmie reached down and picked up Ava’s leftover drink and handed it to Silas.

He looked at her confused. “Emmie?”

“Just drink,” she said, pushing the glass up to his mouth.

Because he didn’t have time for the argument he humored her. He took a quick swig from the glass. It was pretty good shine. It had the spices of apple pie and the warmth of moonshine. But something about it was familiar.

Emmie opened her mouth to speak but Ava stopped her. “Silas, don’t lose your mind over this.”

Silas was getting pissed off. He didn’t have a clue what they were flapping their jaws about and he had things to do. Emmie reached across the bar and pulled a jar off the shelf. The bartender came over with an outstretched arm to take it away from her then pulled back when he spotted Silas in the group. Silas nodded and raised his hand to dismiss him. He left them alone.

Emmie took in her audience, held the jar to her chest, and led Silas to the opposite end of the bar. When she stopped he pulled her through the door she’d seen the guys disappear through earlier. She expected to be in a side room but found herself in a tiny hallway with two doors on either side. She pulled the jar away from her chest and handed it to him.

Swallowing hard she said, “Okay… here goes. I know that he didn’t give the jars to Sam because you said those were just plain ole moonshine. And with all of the moonshine that I found, I…” She stopped talking. Why was this so hard to say?

Silas looked down at the jar. When he inspected it closely he could tell it was one of Ronnie’s jars. All of Ronnie’s lids had a small X scratched into them. As he pushed back the fabric on this one, he could see it—wait the fabric. He’d seen that fabric before… and the familiarity of the spices. The applesauce. His mind flashed back to her kitchen and the stacks of canned applesauce jars. All decorated with scraps of gingham fabric just like this. Then at the church picnic… Those jars had been wrapped in blue gingham just like this.

He tightened his grip on the container. He turned and threw the jar, smashing it against one of the doors. Amber liquid oozed down the side. Silas turned and looked at her. His breathing was heavy. “What the fuck were you thinking, Emmie?”