Rise and Shine (Shine On Series, Book 2) (12 page)

“Well at least let Spotty walk home with ya. Maybe some of that mud will rub off him on the way home.” She gave Max a hug before thanking him again for watching after Spotty, as the two headed down the beaten path that led to his house.

Emmie cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted across the distance, “Oh, Max, be sure to tell Walt about what my crazy old dog’s been up to today. He’ll probably want to know why you’re all muddy.” And he probably also needed to know if there was a chance that Max had run across the still but she left that detail unsaid.

Max nodded and turned to head back toward his house.

And finally, after a long trip home Emmie headed into hers.

Chapter Sixteen

B
efore bed Emmie had a passing thought that she might have a hard time sleeping. It was her first time alone in a month. But, with Spotty curled at her feet, her soft bed, and Mama’s old quilt tucked around her shoulders that thought left nearly as soon as it came. She slept like the dead and didn’t wake until after the sun was high in the sky. It must have been after eight. She went for the coffee can but was disappointed as soon as she popped open the lid. Completely empty. This was not the way she wanted to start her day. She supposed today would need to involve shopping. Minimal shopping. She had no job and only a little money left. Of course, Silas had left her the hundred dollars. But it was the first of the month, she’d need some of that to pay the mortgage. She would use some to stock up on the essentials at the grocery and put up the rest.

Emmie made her way to the bureau in the den. She forced open the bottom drawer and lifted some old shabby quilts to reveal the box Silas had found weeks ago. She might be willing to use Silas’s money but she wouldn’t use a dime of Marco Del Grande’s. That was being sent back to him immediately. Emmie wanted to owe that man nothing. Not Money. Not explanations. Not love. Nothing.

She found an envelope and put all six hundred seventy dollars in and zipped it up in her purse. She knew she should head to town to get her business done but she couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet. It felt too good to be home… but her home didn’t exactly look good. How could an empty house get so dirty? Spotty followed her from room to room for hours as she fluffed pillows, beat the dust from quilts, and swept the floor. She knew he wasn’t happy by the way he sighed each time he was forced to walk a few feet into the new room. When she opened the door to her mother and Ronnie’s room it took her breath away for a minute. She pushed back the emotion and swept the floors. She dug a box out of the closet and started loading up Ronnie’s clothes. There was so much in there that she hadn’t dealt with, it was time to start. Ronnie had been gone almost six months. He wasn’t going to get use of these clothes anymore. She was sure there were folks in town that needed pants or a good pair of boots. She threw out all of his underclothes and boxed everything else up. It was too heavy to carry to the church right now, assuming that was the most sensible place to unload the belongings. Maybe she could get Walt to drive her to the church this week.

Emmie shredded one of his old work shirts to use as cleaning rags. She folded them and put them in a drawer in the kitchen. She took one back to the bedroom and began to wipe down the dark wooden dresser that held her mother’s old clothes and scrap fabrics. Her hand stilled as she lifted an old faded photograph. Staring back at here were her own eyes. She couldn’t have been over a year old. She was sitting on her mother’s lap. Emmie looked at the photograph for the first time. She didn’t recognize the place. What few photos Emmie had of herself were taken at this house. Most had been taken just a couple of yards away on the front porch. This one was in a proper studio. Her mother’s hair was pressed back in a neat bun and her dress was new. It wasn’t a dress Emmie ever saw her wear. She ran her fingers over the glass. Her own baby dress was expensive. She pulled it closer for a better look. It had intricate lace ruffling down the long white skirt. She never remembered being dressed so nice as a child. Emmie’s stomach sank as a suspicion filled her mind. Flipping the frame over she noticed this frame was done professionally. A little imprint of the studio was pressed into the black backing.

Todd Baker Studio, Chicago, Illinois 1902

The photograph fell to the floor. Her heart pounded. Thoughts raced through her mind. All her life. All her life. She had lived around this lie. How many more things were to be found in this house? How many more people had let her live in darkness? Her hands shook as she pulled the dust rag off the dresser. Shattered glass spilled onto her feet and all over the freshly swept floor. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the mess. She didn’t care about the photograph. She left them all right where they lay and took a step back staring down at the mess at her feet. Little bits of the truth had surrounded her all this time. If only she had known the right questions to ask. But she hadn’t known, had she? Just like with that Smith boy the other night… she’d always been naïve. Silas was right in what he said. She overlooked things her whole life. Emmie wrapped the dust rag around her hands and bent down to face the broken glass. But she couldn’t bring herself to sweep it up. She just looked at it, lost in her thoughts.

“Emmie, Emmie. You here girl?” a familiar voice called from the kitchen.

By the time she glanced up he was already in the doorway. His smile dropped to a frown as he stepped into the room. “Ya alright, Emmie?”

She nodded and swallowed hard as she stood to meet him stepping over the broken glass. It was so good to see him. She could count on two hands the number of times she had hugged Walter in her life but this was one of those times. He was startled at first and let his hands dangle at his sides before he wrapping them around her. His long white beard scuffed her cheeks. He didn’t speak. Walter knew when to ask questions and when not to. He clearly understood this was more than an accidental break. This was more like a nervous breakdown. She sobbed into his overalls and he patted her head. She couldn’t say how long they stood there like that. Two seconds, twenty minutes? He didn’t move, just stood stone-still until she was done. When her shoulders had stilled he grabbed a hold of them and pulled back, bending down to look her right in the eye.

“I ain’t gotta know,” he said, leaving the rest unfinished.

She nodded, understanding his meaning. She didn’t have to tell him what that was about. It was odd that she sort of wanted to but when she opened her mouth she couldn’t find the words, so she stuck to the basics.

“I just,” she swallowed, “when I was up there in Louisville I found out I’ve been lied to by people I cared about.”

Walter bit his lower lip processing the information. It made his chin whiskers stick straight up. He always did this when worrying over a problem. She could tell he was thinking of asking more, even though he said he didn’t have to know.

He hooked his thumbs under his overalls and walked past her to the broken photo. He looked down at it for a moment before speaking. “And you being lied to… has it got to do with the picture on the other side of this glass?”

Emmie nodded.

Walter leaned down slowly and retrieved the photo from the shattered glass. He slowly flipped it over and looked surprised at the image in his hand. He frowned and nodded before placing the picture back on the dresser and walking out of the room. “Just checking,” he said as he walked past her.

She opened her mouth to ask what he was checking but didn’t get the chance. Walter started talking again. “Came to get ya for dinner. Max told us you were stayin’ here all alone last night and Mae figures you ain’t got a crumb in this house since you been stayin’ at the DeCarmilla’s house the last month.”

He gave her a pointed look. Walter almost never gave her a look like that. Was he mad at her for staying with Ava the last month? She supposed she hadn’t seen them as often as she should have but Walter didn’t usually care about that sort of thing.

“Walter is there something you got on your mind about me staying with Ava?” she asked, folding her arms self-consciously around her chest.

“No. I ain’t got no problem with you staying with Ava.” He pulled out his pipe and lit it up. For the first time she noticed something funny. He used his smoking as a distraction from uncomfortable conversations, the same way Silas did. Two very different men with the same habits.

“Well, that’s good. Because I thought when you said—” she started but he didn’t let her finish.

“It ain’t Ava I got a problem with you staying with. Ava’s not the only one at that house. And there isn’t a parent to be found in that
grand
house you been sleeping in,” he said, looking down at his pipe.

“I’m an adult, Walter. I don’t need to hear this,” she said her voice shaking.

“Is that so?” He arched an eyebrow and took a puff from his pipe. “Well, just ain’t sure it’s Christian-like for you to be staying there with all them boys in and out. Doing God knows what.”

“Walter, don’t you be giving me Christian-like speeches. You are the one making the liquor in my cave.” She smirked.

Walter grunted in retort. It wasn’t a word but she understood the sound. He didn’t like her staying in the same house as Silas. Thankfully he didn’t come right out and say it though. That was a conversation she did not want to have with the old man.

“Well, you coming to dinner or not? You ain’t gonna have time to make it to the store today and judging by the site of your empty kitchen you don’t got a bit of food fit for eating in this house,” he said, looking at his pipe again.

“Yeah, I’d love dinner. I just made a grocery list but haven’t had the chance to get into town yet.” She tried to explain.

“Well we best get going then. Mae’s been cooking up a feast all morning. Max has been helping too. He even popped open one of them fine gingham-covered jars of applesauce you made.” Walter smiled with wide eyes at his little joke. He acted like he hated that she’d made that apple pie shine but he made a little jab about it every opportunity he could.

“Sounds good to me,” Emmie said, ignoring the gingham comment. Hearing Max’s name reminded her, “Hey, did Max tell you how he got so muddy yesterday?”

“Yep.”

“You okay with him going to the cave?”

“Yep.”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. Which gave Emmie a sneaking suspicion that she needed to head to the cave herself. Walter patted the bed of his truck and Spotty hopped up into the back. Emmie arched an eyebrow at Walter. She couldn’t believe he’d let the dog in the car.

“It’s just he ain’t as young as he used to be and he’s a pretty good old thing,” Walter answered her without waiting for the question.

She stepped up into the cab and closed the door when she remembered something she had forgotten to ask him.

“Walt, what’d you mean when you looked at my picture and said ‘just checking’ earlier?”

He puffed his pipe for a moment before he finally answered her. “You show up here all alone in your house again. I come in and find you crying… saying you been lied to. I was just checking that I didn’t need to head up to Chicago and shoot some damn Yankee boy.”

Emmie frowned for a moment, thinking through his words before their meaning sank in.

“Oh, Walter. Stop looking for an excuse to shoot Silas.” She rubbed her forehead.

A belly laugh erupted from his chest like she had never heard. It was like music, pure joy. She only wished the sound hadn’t come from his wanting to put a hole through her boyfriend… or whatever she and Silas were at this moment.

Chapter Seventeen

“M
mm, mmm. Mama Mae. That was the best fried chicken I think I ever did have,” Max said, clearing his plate.

Mae grinned and patted her grandson’s head. “You say that every time I cook it, boy.”

“It was good, Mae. I’m stuffed like a pig. My chicken’s always burned up. I can’t ever get the grease right,” Emmie said.

“Well next time you come over early and I’ll show ya how I do it. You’re a good cook. You could learn it real quick. Maybe you could show me your applesauce recipe.” She moved from the table to the sink.