Come Rain or Shine (3 page)

Two. Eight. Twelve. Sixteen. There were more than eighteen windows in the front of the house. Six of them were huge, more than two stories high. An elaborate roof design with peaks and valleys beautifully set against the clear blue sky. Two brick wings jutted from each side of the main house. Emmie slammed the car door and stood in the lawn with a hand over her mouth. Of all the times Ava had talked about her other home, she had never in her life expected anything like this.

Silas put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the sidewalk. “I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable here,” she said looking at her worn luggage in his hands.

He smiled. “Em. Don’t be prejudiced. They are the same people they’ve always been.”

Emmie took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. He was right. She reached down and tried to pull her bag from his hands. She would feel better if she had something of her own in her hands.

“I don’t think so,” he said, pulling it out of her reach.

“I am perfectly capable,” she said anxiously.

“Yes, but my aunt would have my hide if you show up lugging your bags to the door. Let me be a gentleman.”

She laughed and teased him, “I thought we agreed a long time ago that you were not a gentleman.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Gabe mumbled behind them.

She turned and gave Gabe an evil eye.

“At least I’m in good company,” Silas said, never turning around. “I’m surprised you’re even walking to this door.”

Emmie frowned and opened her mouth to ask what they were talking about. Silas pushed her forward with his hand still on her back. Trick was already at the door and had rung the bell. It opened slowly to reveal Ava’s father, Al. He grinned at Trick and turned to greet Emmie and Silas, when something seemed to catch his eye. His face fell into an angry frown as he took in the sight of Gabe.

Chapter Four

E
mmie turned to follow Al’s glare. His arm jutted out just past her face and his index finger pointed at Gabe.

“Get off my porch,” he shouted.

“Al. You have to let me see her,” Gabe said quietly.

“Get out,” he repeated.

“I told you you shouldn’t have come,” Silas said, stepping over the threshold.

“You really want to start a conversation about what people should and shouldn’t be doing, my friend?” Gabe asked, darting his eyes to Silas.

Gabe moved closer to the doorway. Trick grabbed his arm and shook his head. He turned around to face Gabe and mouthed silently, “Just go. Take our car.”

“No,” Gabe said aloud, “you have to let me see her. She’s not well.”

“I don’t have to do a damn thing,” Al shouted.

Emmie, already in the entryway, turned to see Ava’s mother, Molly, coming down the stairs that faced the great hall. If it weren’t for the confusion of the fight between Gabe and Al she would have been in awe of the beauty of the house she had just entered. Instead she stared in disbelief at the two most important men in Ava’s life getting ready to come to blows.

“If it weren’t for you she wouldn’t be in this mess,” Al added to his argument.

Gabe’s face fell. Pain settled in his eyes and he looked down at his feet. Without thinking Emmie took a step toward him. Silas grabbed her elbow and stopped her. She frowned up at him.

“Al. It took two,” Molly said softly, grabbing her husband’s shoulder and moving her body in between the two men.

“Trick. Come in, it’s freezing out there,” she instructed. He did so without hesitation. “Gabe, now is not a good time. Your parents are expecting you. We will be in touch soon, son.”

Gabe’s shoulders actually dropped as he exhaled. Emmie had never seen him look so defeated. She made another attempt to move toward him but Silas stopped her again. Before she could question him, Al slammed the door in Gabe’s dejected face.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the warm welcome she’d been expecting. Never before had she seen Ava’s parents so worked up. She glanced around and attempted to take in her surroundings. Ornate sculptures and a tapestry adorned the walls of the entry. A heavy wooden banister led up to a second floor sitting area with a pair of symmetrical hallways on either side. It was beautiful she supposed, but she couldn’t focus on the house. She moved to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that flanked the heavy ornate door—the door that had just been slammed in her half-brother’s face. Pulling back the lace covering she watched as Gabe made his way to the car. He sat behind the wheel without driving off, staring back toward the house.

Trick and Silas whispered to one another in one corner of the room. Molly and Al stood in the opposite corner. Ava’s mother nodded in Emmie’s direction and then smiled uneasily at her. Al looked over with a deep-set frown creasing the skin in between his eyes. She had never seen him look so haggard.

“Silas, Trick, please join us for breakfast. I’ve got fresh biscuits in the oven,” Molly said, tucking a stray red curl behind her ear.

“Of course, Aunt Molly,” Trick said with his typical grin.

Emmie watched the scene unfold in front of her in disbelief. Silas grabbed her suitcase and asked which room she’d be in then headed up the stairs to the left-wing hallway. Al gave her a nod hello and headed into a hall on the right wing of the house. Molly stood there smiling at her with her arms outstretched, clearly waiting for a warm embrace.

She worked really hard to push the frown off her face and replace it with a mannerly smile but she just couldn’t do it. What on earth had just happened? And what’s worse, why was everyone acting like it was okay that Gabe had just been run out of the house. Ava and Gabe were still engaged, right? Had he done something to Ava that Emmie didn’t know about? No. That couldn’t be right. He had been so eager to see her.

Molly’s long arms wrapped around Emmie; the smell of her familiar perfume took Emmie home for a moment. She had forgotten that sometimes Molly wore the same perfume as her mother used to wear. The older woman gave her a little squeeze with the hug that caused Emmie to wince. Her ribs. The fall at Silas’s had aggravated the injury.

Molly pulled away and gave Emmie a look of concern, “What’s wrong, girl? Are you hurt?”

Emmie shook her head. She took a deep breath before she spoke. Willing up the courage to do what Silas had told her, she answered, “No, I just fell down pretty hard back home. I’ve always been clumsy you know.” And just like that, the half-truth rolled off her tongue. It tasted bitter and unwelcome, but what else could she do?

Molly squinted her eyes and quirked her mouth to the side. Oh my goodness. She didn’t believe her. Emmie had to think fast. She was not going into the war between the revenuers and the bootleggers. She was not explaining about the cabin or about the apple pie. Emmie looked around for something to bring up . . . something to say. Then it hit her. Something she should have noticed from the get-go.

“Where’s Ava?” Emmie did her best to look carefree.

Now it was her turn to watch Molly squirm. She rubbed her hands together and fiddled with her wedding band before she said, “She’s not feeling well right now. She’s resting.”

Emmie nodded and tried to process the information. “The last time I talked to her she mentioned a stomach flu, but Molly that was days ago.”

Molly reached out and grabbed Emmie’s hands and pulled her through the living room and out into another hall before she spoke. When they reached the entry to the kitchen she finally said, “Just don’t bring up Ava right now. It’s an unpleasant conversation, okay?”

Unpleasant conversation? Emmie’s hand covered her mouth as her stomach dropped through her feet. She could hardly find the words to form the question. “Oh no. Is she dying?”

Molly actually jeered as she replied, “Oh no. I thought her father would kill her but he decided not to. It seems he’s decided to take out Gabe instead.” She stared blankly at the wall, lost in some other moment in time. Then she gave a deep exhale and shook her head. “No, child. Don’t worry yourself. It’s nothing that a few weeks—or months won’t take care of. She will be fine. Come on. Help me with breakfast.”

While this home was much more expansive than the tiny cabin in the holler on the Johnson’s farm, it was starting to feel just as cold.

“Sure, Molly. What can I do?” she asked, but her mind was still transfixed on Ava.

“Scramble the eggs, please. You can use that skillet over there.” Molly nodded to the stove.

Molly kept talking but Emmie had no idea what she was saying. Emmie laid eyes on the skillet. Black iron. She wrapped her hands around the thick handle and lifted it. It was heavy, too heavy. Her mind flashed back. She was no longer in the state-of-the-art white kitchen. She was standing at the tiny black cook stove. Mr. Thomas was pulling her out the door.
No. She couldn’t go with him. She couldn’t.
She watched it all happening like a picture show in her mind. She saw her hands wrapped around the skillet. The cracking sound it made as it connected with his head was more than she could bear. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t feel. The skillet in her hands dropped to the floor, landing at her feet. His eyes.
Oh God.
Forgive me
, she thought. His eyes.

“Emmie, Emmie girl?” She heard a voice near her. Someone grabbed her shoulders. Heavy footsteps entered the room. Emmie saw everything around her and nothing at the same time. She struggled to breathe. All of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. She panted.

Silas had heard the crash and found his way to the kitchen. He took in the sight of Emmie standing there. Her eyes were dull as they stared off into space. She panted with each breath. He put his hands on each side of her face. “Emmie,” he said calmly, “look at me. Are you okay?”

It was only at that moment he noticed the iron skillet at her feet and knew where she was in her mind’s eye. Back at the cabin, staring at Mr. Thomas’s lifeless body.

Chapter Five

“E
mmie. Mo Chuisle.” His words were soft in her ear.

She could feel his hands on each side of her face. Large and strong. Grounding her back to reality. Mr. Thomas’s face was replaced with Silas’s as the world came back into focus. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and shake the remnants of the shattered images left in her mind. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Silas. I just . . . I saw that skillet,” she started and then opened her eyes and looked around the room. Remembering they weren’t alone and swallowed the rest of her sentence.

Molly and Al watched her from a distance. Silas turned her face, so she was looking at only him again. “It’s okay.”

She heard his words. She knew he was right. It was okay. She wasn’t in that cabin. Mr. Thomas was dead. She closed her eyes slowly and found her breath. Emmie opened her eyes and looked into Silas’s. They were so full love, concern, and compassion. How could this be the same man she’d seen in the cabin? The second part of the scene flashed through her mind—the second part in the cabin she hadn’t let herself remember.

Silas had walked in, guns drawn. He’d shot them. His eyes had been cold. So cold. Even as his arms had wrapped around her, he’d shot Mr. Thomas. Did Mr. Thomas deserve to die for his sins? The tall revenuer had called her a moll. A gangster’s girl. Was he right?

“Emmie.” His deep voice brought her back to the present.

She shook her head again and forced a smile. “I’m fine, Silas.”

He frowned. He didn’t believe her. How could he? There was no effort in her lie. He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead, leaving his lips there a little longer than was appropriate, given the company they were in.

Al cleared his throat. “Silas, I think you and I need to talk about a thing or two.”

Silas ignored him for a moment and kept his eyes on Emmie. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

He gave her an easy smile and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Al frowned at her before leaving the room. It wasn’t the same look of disapproval as he’d given Gabe. Curiosity or pity, maybe? Emmie wondered if he knew what had happened in Bowling Green since he’d left town.

Emmie leaned down and picked up the skillet as Silas made his way out of the room. She put it back on the stove and started cracking eggs. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand and she knew she was being watched. She turned to face Molly who was leaning against the kitchen table staring at her. Her expression was as much amused, as it was curious. She looked just like Ava.