Shine On (5 page)

“They were but you took a long time to come over and they came home. What took you so long anyway?” Ava asked.

“I ran into Walter and he wanted to talk to me for a bit about Max.” Emmie then recounted the story of what had happened earlier at work.

There was no way she could tell Ava about the paste she was making for Walt. She’d thought about it the whole walk over to her house.

To tell Ava or not to tell Ava. She’d decided not. What she was helping with was illegal. She wasn’t selling the ’shine but she was sure there were laws about helping someone make it. Not that she thought Ava would tell on her. Emmie just didn’t want her to be caught up in it. Heck, as soon as she could save up a little money she’d be done too. So she shared as much of the truth with her friend as she could. Ava was disgusted at what Mr. Thomas had said about Max. She said someday he would get what was coming to him.

“Let’s not think about the crazy ole man tonight. Come on.” She grabbed Emmie’s arm and led her down the hall to the parlor.

Well, one of the home’s parlors anyway. This was the “boys” room as Ava called it. A dark wood desk sat in the front of the room with leather couches and chairs, and blue striped curtains framing the floor-to-ceiling windows. They were actually one of the sets Emmie’s mama had made all those years ago. In the back of the room, a heavy wooden pool table was adjacent to the fireplace. That’s where the boys were playing billiards. They looked like some ad in a magazine. Posed laughing, smoking, playing pool, drinking… wait… drinking?

Trick froze when Emmie entered, glancing immediately from Vincent to Silas with an unspoken question, obvious to all. She had never felt so unwelcome walking into a room. It was like the life had been sucked out of the place.

“Take it easy, Trick. She’s fine,” Vince added, barely looking up from his shot at the back corner of the pool table.

Silas put his cue down on the floor and looked right at her with a smile that made her feel uneasy. “You’re not gonna be calling the buttons are ya?”

“Sorry?” Emmie asked genuinely confused.

“The police,” Ava laughed at her expression. “Give her a break, boys. Sheesh.”

Ava walked over and helped herself to a drink. This wasn’t the stuff that Walter made. Walter’s moonshine was clear. This was dark caramel brown and didn’t come from an old canning jar—it had a real bottle sealed with dripping wax.

“Since when do you drink?” Emmie asked, sitting next to Ava to get a closer look at the glass.

“Since a few weeks ago. It’s more of just something to hold in my hand. It’s the entire buzz in Chicago. They have whole clubs for it and everything,” Ava explained, sloshing the drink around as she spoke.

“Well, this isn’t Chicago.” She instantly felt like she was talking out of both sides of her mouth. She wasn’t a fan of drunkards, but was prohibition right?

“Just take a sip. It’s not that bad. It sort of tastes like that cough medicine that Dr. Baker used to mix up,” Ava said.

“What is it?” she asked.

Trick answered right away, clearly this conversation had peaked his interest. “It’s bourbon. Kentucky is famous for it, you know. I heard this story of some man that came down here right after the start of prohibition and bought a whole distillery, disassembled it, put it on a train, and moved it to Canada. Now he’s selling all kinds of bootleg liquor, taking money away from the people of your state.”

Ava just raised her eyebrows and smiled behind her glass. She still had yet to take the first sip. Gabe walked over and took the glass from Ava’s hand and set it on the table, tsk-tsking in mock disapproval. Louis Armstrong belted out an upbeat song and he pulled her up for a dance. She twirled, kicked her legs, and waved her hands like a mad woman. Emmie couldn’t help but laugh at her erratic movements.

“So, you’re a good girl after all.” Silas plopped down on the couch next to her.

“Yeah, what makes you say that?” she wondered.

“You didn’t take more than a sniff of that whiskey but you didn’t run out the door either. You’re alright, Emmie.” He pushed her with his elbow.

She felt her body turn red from toe to nose. What was wrong with her?

***********

Silas tried not to laugh at her blush. At first yesterday, out by the pool, he and his brother had thought she was some sort of floozy. He could see now he was wrong. She had been genuinely embarrassed. Vince had told him she was a friend of the family. Silas knew from experience that just because someone was a friend of one family didn’t mean she was a friend to them all. He knew he should just walk back to the pool table and keep playing. So why couldn’t he move from this couch? He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a loose embrace, his feet moving quickly to the music. Silas could tell by how tense she was that she’d not had much experience with dancing, she was so stiff. Maybe she should have had the bourbon.

“Relax, Emmie,” he whispered.

“I don’t know that crazy dance.” She nodded over to Ava and Gabe.

He laughed out loud. “Who would want to? It’s ridiculous.”

At last she threw her head back and laughed, relaxing around him for the first time. Silas pulled her in closer. Wrapping one arm all the way around her waist while his other arm held her hand tightly to his chest. This was the best he’d felt in a long time. He’d deal with the consequences tomorrow. He was going to enjoy this tonight and with that thought he leaned down and brushed a quick kiss on her lips.

***********

Spotty entered the mouth of the cave and plopped down at Walter’s feet. Walter walked over and scratched his ears.
Silly name for the dog. Not a damn spot on the thing
, he grinned.
The girl must be at that Del Grande house if the dog was out roaming around.
He didn’t know if that was good or bad.
Talk about wolves in the forest. Them people were wolves, keeping more skeletons in their closet than Red Riding Hood’s grandma, if ya ask me. I suppose it weren’t none of my business though.

Walter stood back and watched little to no steam escape his makeshift pipe. Emmie was good at making paste for the still pipe on Ole Maizy. Maybe if he could just get a little more business he could give the girl a couple more dollars each month.

He had just dropped off a dozen ears of his best corn on her porch. He didn’t exactly know why he felt like he needed to raise her. Their families had been neighbors for years. Her mama, Ruby, was a sweet little thing that could barely raise her voice enough to shoo away a fly. He didn’t know how she did it. She lived there alone on that farm with a toddler and did it with a smile on her face too. The townsfolk talked about her having a baby with no dad. He never knew if she was a widow or just a young mom that got herself in trouble. He never cared to ask, either. The way he figured it wasn’t any of his business.

It wasn’t long after Ruby had moved to town that she’d married that good-fer-nothin’ Ronnie. Always had been a thorn in his side. He must have convinced her she needed him, having that baby and all. He probably weaseled his way into her life just like he did Walt’s.

For all Ronnie’s faults he was a stiff negotiator. It was a few years ago he had come toting a gun to Walter’s barn. Mouthing off, saying he’d found Walt’s still on his land.

“I know it’s yours Walt. No use in lying to me,” he’d boomed arrogantly.

Walt had tried to play it off like he didn’t know what he was talking about. But Ronnie had pulled out Walt’s pipe and tobacco. Damn it. He was getting too old for this. It was a fool’s mistake leaving something like that behind.

“Alright, I admit it. You better get to shooting me Ron or get outta here. I ain’t got time for your games,” he’d said.

Ronnie laughed at him then. Told him he wasn’t going to shoot him, put his gun away, and started acting like they were best friends or something. He said the gun was just to get him to own up to the fact the still was his. Ronnie said he never would hurt a friend. But his smile was too big, too fake. He’d seen enough marks on Emmie’s mom’s cheek to doubt his story about not hurting a friend.

“Let me help,” Ron had begged. Said he needed the money to support his family. Walter doubted that his intentions were that honorable. More than likely he just wanted the extra cash to buy more booze or invest it in some gambling scheme.

“Ronnie, I ain’t really in the business. I mean I just make a few quarts here and there for some friends. This ain’t how I make my living. You know I’m just a farmer,” Walt had explained.

“You make more than a few quarts, my friend. Remember I saw your still and your mash. That’s gonna make more than enough for your friends. And anyway, that’s why you need me. You know I’ve got connections. With the seclusion of my cave and your knowledge we can grow this into a real business,” he had promised.

When the old man had looked skeptical Ronnie pushed him further. “Walt you know you are going to be needin’ more money as that boy gets older. The brace you got on his leg barely fits him now. How long you think you can keep just making those things for him? He needs to see a real doctor. Sure you and Mae have done your best, but don’t you want more for him? Trust me, doctors aren’t cheap. I can help you. We can do this.” He stuck out his hand for a shake.

Walter had thought about it for a moment. He remembered it felt like he was making a deal with the devil but he’d agreed to give it a try anyway. So he shook his hand and bought into the promise that Ronnie had offered.

Surprisingly enough, Ronnie came through. Within weeks business picked up tenfold. They were selling jars even before they’d finished making them. Walter hadn’t ever heard of selling stuff before it was done, but Ronnie assured him this is the way business worked now.

One of the weirdest things about partnering was Ronnie would never tell Walt who all the jars was going to. Said the less Walter knew the better it was for him. But other than the secret customers, he was more honest than Walt expected him to be. Nearly always paying him on time, for the first two years anyway. Until he got into drinking more and more of the ’shine himself.

By the time Ronnie had died they were selling more jars of ’shine than ever, but he was barely breaking even. Something wasn’t right. Promises of cash that never arrived. Walt had confronted him about it once but had woken up a few hours later in the cave with a large gash to his head. Ronnie was mean when he was drinking. Walt had decided to just up and quit on him. Find some other place to work, there was plenty of little spring caves around the country he could use. He would just go back to making for his friends. But, he never got the chance to talk to Ronnie again. The next night he’d found him dead in the fields… in his truck. Walter never told anyone, but it didn’t look like a car accident to him, didn’t believe it was suicide either—Ronnie was too vain for that.

That night he’d been out checking on the mash. He’d heard the shot and had gone running as fast as his old legs could take him. It sounded like it was at the house and he knew that girl was in there. Coming down the backside of the hill he stumbled upon the car. He didn’t see anybody at first, just the outline of Ronnie’s lifeless face smashed up against the steering wheel. Turned out the sheriff and his boys were already there. They crept out of the trees. Sheriff Drake looked calm, greeted Walt like everything was just normal. Told Walt he was handling this investigation and he should just head back home. He didn’t know if they were the ones that killed him but something wasn’t right. Walt had been living around those hills too long to make the mistake of questioning what the sheriff and his boys had said. So, he played dumb the next morning when they’d found the car scorched beyond recognition. The sheriff had told Emmie Ronnie had a car accident. Walter guessed he was one of the only people to know Ronnie had not died in some fiery crash. He intended to keep that to himself until he met his maker.

Chapter Eight

“I
t’s been two weeks, just let it go okay?” Emmie hated talking about this. Apparently Ava loved talking about it. Loved making Emmie feel stupid. Well, that probably wasn’t true but it was how she felt. Stupid.

“Emmie, it’s complicated, he’s complicated. Trust me,” she begged.

“Look, I’m fine with trusting you about Gabe. You’re right, he’s been good to you since you’ve been back. I’m trusting you there. No problem. Because that’s your life. This is mine. So you trust me. He’s a jackass,” Emmie spit.

Ava’s mouth flew open in mock horror. “Such language. My ears will bleed.”

“Your ears are fine. I don’t want to talk about him. He’s nothing to me.” Emmie pretended she didn’t care and continued stirring the sugar into the apples that were simmering on the stove.

“Okay, I’ll let it go,” Ava conceded.

Emmie sighed. Finally. Her friend had been talking about Silas for days.

“After I say this one last thing,” Ava added.

Emmie knew the promise of silence was too good to be true.

“I had Gabe talk to him,” she smiled sheepishly.

“You what?” Emmie shouted.

“Well, I couldn’t let him think it was okay just to kiss you then not call for a couple weeks. I mean for goodness sakes, Emmie, had you ever even let a boy kiss you before?” Ava continued. Emmie was too gobsmacked to answer.