Shine On (26 page)

“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?”

Max shook his head no. She could tell he wanted this part of the conversation to be over, so she tried to move on.

“You know, sounds like we’ve both had rough days. I think you need this more than I do.” She pulled the candy stick from Silas out of her purse and gave it to Max. His little face showed a hint of a smile. He made quick work of unwrapping it. His movements were off balance but he managed quite well.

“Maybe we should just do something fun this afternoon, hmm?” she asked.

“Like what? Don’t you think learning to read is fun?” He looked at her confused. He really did enjoy this. This was the highlight of his day.

“Of course. But you don’t need books to read.” She took his books from him and started walking. He stood and followed her. “What’s that say?” She pointed to a sign on the door.

Max looked at her confused for a moment. Then spent some time working over the letters and sounds. “H-e-l-p, Help Want?”

“And add the last part to want.”

“Help Want-ed,” he shouted, touching the sign.

Max and Emmie continued this game all the way down Main Street until they reached a fencerow that surrounded a farm sitting adjacent to Walter’s land. Max ran up the row a bit in search of a sign to read that he’d spotted in the distance.

By the time Emmie reached him he was looking back at her with growing satisfaction. “I already know this one. It’s easy.” He hooked his thumbs under his overalls just the way Papaw Walt did when he was talking. Emmie smiled at the comparison.

“Well, out with it,” she prompted.

“Pigs For Sale.” He huffed for emphasis. He was so proud. That was the good thing about kids. Their world could be crashing around them for one second and they would be happy as a lark the next.

“You know, pig is about the easiest word to read. P-I-G,” Max started rambling.

Emmie was listening to him talk when all of the sudden the pieces fell into place. All of the gears matched up allowing the secret to spill out. That was it. Pig. It had been in front of her the whole time.

She could see Walt’s house in the distance. It was a small whitewashed farmhouse just off the main road. “Max,” she cut him off. I’m going to walk you all the way to your house today. Think Walt and Mae will mind if I stop by for a bit?”

When they reached the house Mae barely got out a hello before having a fit about Max’s black eye. Her reaction was not that different than Emmie’s had been. She dampened a cold washrag and made him sit at the kitchen table with it pressed firmly to his face.

“Sounds like his pride was hurt more than his face,” Walt said to Mae. “But don’t worry, we’ll practice. Those boys will ask you again.”

Seeing them both revolve around Max like he was their sun was sweet. Emmie had that once. Her mama would have been upset for her if she’d seen this bruise on her face. People felt sorry for Max sometimes but he got more love than most kids.

“Emmie, dear, I am sorry.” Mae walked over and gave Emmie a very grandmotherly hug. She was an inch or so shorter than Emmie. Mae was one of the few people that Emmie could actually see the top of her head. She had two thick grey braided coils that wound in one large bun around her head. Her back was beginning to crook. Her hug was soft. She smelled like a grandma… something between detergent, powder, and cookies. Emmie smiled and hugged Mae back.

“I ain’t seen enough of ya lately,” Mae nodded. She touched Emmie’s cheek. Luckily, Mae’s eyes weren’t as good as they used to be or she would have noticed the fading yellow bruise. “You’re looking a little bit thin.” Then she clapped her hands together and smiled. “But don’t worry Emmie. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee and a cobbler’s cooling on the oven. “You like apples, right?” she asked.

“She sure does,” Walt answered dryly. But his eyes were sparked with humor.

Emmie ignored his comment and answered for herself, “I’d love some cobbler. Can I help you?”

“No, child. Just go sit down and rest. Ya been working at Thomas’s store today?” she asked. Emmie nodded. Mae went on, “This will be a nice way for me to say thank you for what ya been doing for my boy.”

Emmie followed Walt into the small sitting area in the front of the house. Walt sat in an old handmade rocking chair and fired up his pipe. Emmie sat across from him on a small sofa. It was threadbare and covered with mismatched pillows. She put one in her lap and started picking at the loose threads.

Walter just sat there doing more chewing on the end of his pipe than actually smoking it. His eyes never left her. She felt like he may stare a hole right through her forehead. She heard the click of Spotty’s toenails on the weathered wooden floor. He had apparently begged his way in the house. He sighed, plopped down at her feet, and let out a long sigh. Even he could feel the tension in the air.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” she said, looking down at the pillow.

“I guess I don’t really need to know all of it. Just that you’re okay.” He took his pipe out his mouth and inspected something on the side.

“I’m fine,” she answered, keeping her eyes down.

Walter gave a humph sound. She wasn’t exactly sure what that noise was supposed to mean.

“Them boys that caused trouble.” His eyes looked uneasy. “They kin to your friend, Ava?”

Emmie swallowed and nodded. Walter chewed on his pipe again and frowned. “I suppose they had their reasons for what they did?”

Emmie nodded again. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to tell him how much they knew about the moonshine.

“They are Ava’s cousins and boyfriend.” Emmie swallowed hard. The lie caught in her throat but she pushed it out anyway, “I think they thought Bo was getting fresh. He offered me a drink. That must have been what started it.”

Walter looked down his nose at her. She knew he didn’t completely believe her.

“And you think that warrants a gun?” he asked, trying to keep the judgment from his voice.

She shook her head no. “He overreacted when I got hit. He wouldn’t shoot anybody though. He’s not a bad person.”

Walter huffed again, louder this time. “You keep telling yourself that, girl.” He paused for a second and then added, “But it’s your life. I just don’t want you too messed up with them. Lie with snakes and you might get bit.”

Emmie’s hands shook as she pulled a thread out of the pillow. Walter really didn’t like Silas. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. What would happen when things finally came out in the open? She pushed all of that out of her mind. That wasn’t a problem she could fix today. The blind pig—that’s what she’d come here to talk about and she was ready for the conversation to move on. She just wasn’t sure how to move it forward.

“Well, spit it out girl. I can tell by all your fidgeting that you’re itching to tell me something,” he said through clenched teeth holding his pipe in his mouth.

“I know what to do what that apple pie,” she rocked forward, keeping her voice quiet.

Walt said nothing but arched a thick gray eyebrow. He was listening and not shutting her down yet, so that was a good sign.

Chapter Thirty-eight

“T
here is a
blind pig
here in town. It would be the perfect place to unload the apple pie! I think I’ve even figured out where it is—somewhere in the shoe store.” She folded her arms proud of herself.

Walter actually smiled. “Somewhere in the shoe store is a blind pig, should we call a vet?”

“Don’t play dumb with me you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said.

He sighed, “I know about the pig.” He took a puff from his pipe drawing out an annoying silent moment for Emmie. “You sure do think too much. I’m pretty sure I remember telling you the day I picked up that apple pie ’shine that I didn’t want you worrying any more with this.”

“I couldn’t just leave you with the mess I made of your moonshine. So let’s make a plan. Should I take a jar or two down there? How does that work?”

Walter shook his head at her amused. “You think you’re just gonna walk down to that shoe store and they’re gonna buy your apple pie?”

“Okay, so tell me what to do,” she said, sitting up shifting her weight forward. The dog thought they were leaving and he stood and paced the length of the couch. It was like he was waiting for an order.

“I tell ya what you’re gonna do, the same thing I told ya to do weeks ago, nothing. I’ve got this taken care of,” he snapped.

“How?” she asked, ignoring his attitude.

“Alright, Miss Nosey. Why do you think I let Bo use my still?” he asked.

Emmie thought for a minute then a light bulb went off. “You said his pap, Mr. Johnson, was doing something for you too. Are you selling the ’shine to him?” she asked.

“No, it don’t work like that. Wish it was just that easy,” he answered.

“Okay,” Emmie thought aloud, “well, he would have the connection anyway, being that they sell that Georgia’s peach ’shine to the speak and pig. That’s what you needed, isn’t it? The connection to the joints in town?”

Walter nodded then his face looked grim, “The connection… and permission.”

“Permission?” she asked.

“Bart and I have been friends a long time. But I don’t think he would have taken too kindly to me cutting in on his business. The same kinds of people that drink peach ’shine are the ones that drink apple ’shine. His supply was getting a little low with the case and all… He needed a favor and I needed to unload some ’shine. Win-win for both of us. But if things hadn’t been like they were… with him needing something from me, I would have never tried to sell that moonshine to his customer. The outcome wouldn’t have been worth the cash,” Walter said honestly. He considered holding back the truth, but Emmie was so curious, if he didn’t tell her the truth he was afraid what kind of mess she might get herself into trying to find the answers.

Emmie chewed her bottom lip and stood to pace the room while she thought this over. Silas alluded to the fact the Johnson’s had skeletons in their closet last night and now Walter looked half afraid of them. “Walter do you think they are the kind of people that would burn down the Cliff’s barn because he was nosing in their moonshine business? He’s a revenuer, right?”

Walter thought before he spoke, “I don’t think Bart did it, if that’s what you’re asking. But he’s got a lot of friends and I don’t think he would stop nobody from doing it either. Understand?”

Emmie nodded.

“Why don’t you just ask that snaky lawyer ya been hanging around? He’d probably know the truth being as he represented Bart and all,” Walter said with a grin.

“He’s not a snaky lawyer,” she defended him. Walter made another humph. “Well, at least we got rid of the apple pie, right?” She smiled down at Walter.

“Don’t get your hopes up yet, Emmie. The pig is a hard place to break into even with a connection. Every moonshiner in five counties is fighting for the rights to the few pigs and speaks that we got around here. Bart Johnson may have been able to get me the connection but he doesn’t make the decision. Some other fella does that. I met him at the barn party the other night. I left him with a few sample jars of our stuff. They’re gonna try it out this week, see how it sells and get back to me. Imagine it’ll do pretty well since they’re low on the peach stuff.”

His face went serious. “I’m not sure I want to know how you figured out the Johnsons was selling flavored moonshine to the speak and pig, do I?”