Wynn in Doubt (17 page)

The band had just struck the first few notes when men in dark suits arrived, flanked by policemen in blue. They stormed into the Rathskeller like a swarm of angry yellow jackets, waving guns and yelling orders.

Some of the girls screamed and turned hysterical, running for the door. Kristine grabbed my arm and led me through the mass of people fleeing arrest. She pulled me into the servants hall that separates the basement from a series of tunnels beneath the hotel.

She changed her mind at the last minute, perhaps thinking, as I was, that the tunnels would be teeming with Prohibition agents. We doubled back and ran for the stairs off the lobby.

A young policeman was stationed there. He held a pistol at his side and his forehead wrinkled in surprise when he saw us. I thought we were done for. For the first time in months, I was truly terrified of what might happen if I was forced to reveal my true name. In the space of five seconds, I saw my new life being ripped away.

Then Kristine flashed him a smile and did a little shimmy. She dropped my arm, put her hands over her head, and swayed her hips from side to side like a snake charmer. I wanted to laugh it was so ridiculous.

The young officer’s face transformed from confusion to enchantment. His lips curved into the most begrudging smile I’ve ever seen. He raised an eyebrow at her and nodded for us to move past him. She placed a kiss on his cheek as we ran past him for the stairs. His eyes lit up like the fireworks outside.

We made our way to the back entrance of the hotel, avoiding the lobby. There were men stationed on the street, so we skimmed the building. I prayed the shadows would conceal us until we could make it around the block. That’s when a green car with a tan leather roof folded up behind the backseat screeched to a halt just feet in front of us.

Michael Craig and a man I didn’t know called for us to get inside.

Kristine hopped in straight away, but I hesitated. Adrenaline urged me forward, but I knew getting into that car would mean running again. I’m so very tired of running. Michael and I stared at one another for no more time than it takes to draw a single breath. His lips hinted at an adventure that convinced me to take his hand.

We drove Kristine to her apartment. She laughed the whole ride there, sitting atop the compressed roof so she could feel the wind on her face as we sped down deserted streets. I jumped out of the car when we pulled up to her building and hugged her fiercely. She thought it was funny. She said they’d keep the place shut down only a couple of weeks, and then we’d all be back to work.

She didn’t know I had no intention of ever coming back. The risk of being caught and exposed is now too great.

Michael and his brother Jimmy, a sweet young man with a badly scarred face, stayed with the car as I snuck through the front door of Mrs. Blanch’s house. It was before three a.m., but she’s a light sleeper and I couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell another person good-bye for the last time. I brought so little with me, and I’ve accumulated so little since, it took only ten minutes to pack everything I own into a bag and a duffle made from my bed linens. I wrote Mrs. Blanch a letter thanking her for her kindness and placed a ten-dollar bill between the folds.

We made it to Lawrenceburg just as the sun was rising. There were a few people milling about. I faced forward, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. Now, as I look around my new room, I can’t help but compare it to the one I left. The bright sunlight and soft colors are pretty and pleasant. It doesn’t feel like mine, as the room in Mrs. Blanch’s house had begun to feel, but there’s a presence here that soothes me. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but when I woke up after a few hours’ rest, I thought, maybe, it was hope.

6th July 1928

Today I met Michael’s oldest brother and his wife, Cecelia. She’s very pretty and a few years younger than me. She’s the one who put the flowers in my room. I don’t know how she knew to do it, how she knew I was coming, but I sense she’s wise beyond her years. She has two black-haired little girls. One is still in diapers, and the other toddles around the yard on legs too short and chubby to provide much balance. I gave her a blue flower I found on my walk this morning, and she squealed in delight. It made my heart ache for Elizabeth.

I wonder where she is now, what she’s doing? I have some money saved in the fake bottom of a wooden box I bought at a nostalgia shop in Louisville. Maybe I can earn more here, somehow, and finally go back for her.

Michael and his youngest brother, Patrick—or Patty Cake, as they call him—left early this morning. Cecelia told me they had business to attend to in Chicago. I asked her about Michael, but she told me only that he’s had a hard time of it and that he’d tell me everything when he was ready.

I’ve been snooping around the grounds some. If Michael and his brothers are running an illegal still, they’ve hidden it well. All I see are acres of soft wheat and green grass. There’s a forest of sorts on the far end of the property. On my walk, I noticed a path leading through the trees, worn down by boots. Perhaps I’ll snoop there next.

10th July 1928

Michael and Patrick arrived back at the house last night. I was in the kitchen, helping Cece prepare dinner, when they walked through the back door. I’ve barely spoken to him since he rescued Kristine and me from behind the hotel. He asked how I was doing and if everyone’s been treating me right. I thanked him for what he’s done, and he nodded and removed his hat. I took it and hung it on a nail in the hallway. The felt is tattered in places. I might try to fix it for him if he’ll let me.

This morning he offered to give me a proper tour of the farm. I wanted to change—I still had on the housedress Cece loaned me for helping with the chores—but he insisted I looked fine. We walked very close to one another. The backs of our hands connected a few times, and I had to turn my head away, embarrassed by the blush I felt spreading up my neck. There’s an old barn behind the house and he showed me where they played as children. A broken sawhorse made to look like a pony sat in the corner, half-buried by a bale of hay. I asked if it was a happy place to grow up in. He got a far-off look in his eyes, as though there was something painful in those memories.

We talked about my time at the Seelbach, and my wonder at the city in general. He didn’t inquire about my past, and I didn’t offer anything. I’m not sure what he’d think about me if he knew I left my family. I asked about his brothers and parents. Both his mother and father died of the Spanish flu. His oldest brother, Daniell, was only eighteen when it happened. I think Michael must respect his brother very much for the way he kept them all together.

As we walked back to the house, he plucked a pink flower from the bush by the mailbox. He tucked it behind my ear and looked at me a long time. It didn’t make me uncomfortable, as silence sometimes does. There’s a calmness to him, an empathetic light behind his eyes that I’ve never seen in a man. He hides his true character well beneath the careless smile and badly behaved hair, but I can see it.

As I made to walk upstairs to my room, he touched my arm. He told me I could have a home here if I wanted it.

Home. The word has never held much stock for me. My father was drunk more often than he was awake. My mother, lovely and soft as she was, wasn’t strong enough to protect me. The first time I thought of running was the day of her funeral. I couldn’t stay alone in the house with my father, but I had no money or means of travel. Dutch became my escape. He was so handsome in his woolen tunic and cap, and I was so very young. He gave me one of the bright medals pinned to his chest the first time he took me out. It was for courage under fire.

I’ve tried not to think much about him these last ten months. It’s funny. I can hardly remember his face sometimes. What I can’t forget, what I’ll never forget, is the blankness of his stare when he looked at me, like I didn’t exist. Sometimes I would bury my face in a pillow and scream, just to prove I did.

fifteen

1st August 1928

I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. I followed Patrick into the woods early this morning, just after sunrise. Cece warned me about snooping, but I had to see for myself where Michael goes off to each day. Patrick walked almost an hour and nearly caught me once. I hid behind a tree trunk and held my breath until his footsteps started up again. I watched him bend low and walk hunchbacked through a bramble of little trees. When I came out on the other side, I could hardly believe my eyes.

A building five times the length of this house has been constructed in a clearing in the forest. I wasn’t altogether sure it was a building at first—it looked more like an oddly shaped hill—but I saw steam rising through the vines and flashes of red and gold beneath a cluster of green leaves.

Michael wasn’t there, but his brother Daniell was. So were Thomas, Elijah, and that skinny Eby White from the house down the road. I hid in a hollow spot in the bramble and watched them check big, round kettles made of shiny orange copper.

It’s not like I didn’t know the Craig brothers were moonshiners, but it feels wrong that I’ve uncovered Michael’s secret when I have so many hidden away.

I tripped and fell and nearly tumbled halfway down the ravine on my way back. I cut my leg, and it hurts terribly. I’ll have to ask Cece to help me clean it properly after supper. I can tell I didn’t do a good job on my own this morning. It burns beneath my dress. Wouldn’t it be a funny thing if I were to die from a scratch after making it so long on my own?

3rd August 1928

I confessed about following Patrick into the woods. Cece thought the cut on my thigh looked infected, so she went and got Michael, who called the doctor for me. The antiseptic brought tears to my eyes, but it was nothing compared to the sharp pain of his needle. He had to sew the wound shut with a series of tiny stitches. I’ll have a scar there for the rest of my life.

After the doctor left, Michael came to see me. I was so ashamed and embarrassed, I could hardly look him in the eye when I told him how it happened. He sat beside me on the bed and turned my face toward his. Then he kissed me. When I opened my eyes, I saw that his were focused on my lips. He told me I scared him, and I said I was sorry. He touched his forehead to mine and took a deep breath, then kissed me again. I keep touching my lips, trying to remember how his mouth felt pressed against mine.

I’ll put an end to things here. I hardly know what I’m writing anymore, I’m so happy. I’ll just say this: my leg doesn’t hurt at all now.

31st August 1928

I’ve been reading my last entry, and I can’t help but smile at the memory of that kiss. There have been so many since that afternoon.

11th September 1928

Michael took me to the cemetery today. His wife and infant son are buried there. They share a grave. He couldn’t bear to part them from each other.

I held his hand while he told me their story. Her name was Shelby and she had red hair and blue eyes. Their son never drew his first breath. Shelby had a difficult pregnancy and had to stay in bed for months. She went into labor some weeks before she was due. The doctor convinced Michael to stay outside and wait for the baby to come.

He didn’t cry as he told me what happened next. He just sat down on a concrete bench inside the cemetery walls and pulled me onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and combed through his hair with my fingers.

He never got to say good-bye to his wife or hello to his son. They were both gone by the time the doctor emerged from the house. I held him tighter then. I know what it’s like to lose your child. Maybe not in the same way, but I feel the pain of her absence nonetheless.

I want to tell him about Elizabeth, about my life before Kentucky, but the thought of losing him scares the truth from my lips. He’s taken to kissing me good night in the hallway between our rooms. I was shy at first, worried what his brothers or Cece might think, but they never seem to pay us any attention. It was especially difficult to pull away from him tonight. I know the cemetery upset him, and I wanted to do something to take his mind off things. When he turned to leave, I pulled him back and placed a kiss on the cotton over his heart.

I’ve fallen in love with him. With his blue eyes, funny hair, and big smile. He’s given me a real life again.

25th September 1928

Michael took me to the stills today. He made me promise not to venture out on my own again. The cut on my thigh is fully healed, but there’s a pink, puckered scar to remind me of my promise. He explained the entire still operation. How the mash is made to how the whiskey is triple distilled and bottled. I admit I was impressed. The process is complicated and handled with great care. I didn’t ask about the money. All things in time, I think.

On the way back through the woods, he spun me around and pressed me to a tree. His eyes were dark and hungry, and he claimed my lips with a new kind of kiss. He asked if he could come to my room tonight. I said yes, so here I wait. The brass clock on the mantel downstairs has let out the first of twelve chimes. He’ll be here soon. I thought writing would help to steady my hand, but it’s only hastened my excitement. I want him. I want all of him.

26th September 1928

There are no words, there is no time to explain the joy I feel. I said I loved him, and he said he already knew.

“When?” I asked.

“When I took your hand to help you off the stage.”

The cheek of him! But I couldn’t deny it. He captured my heart from almost the first minute.

29th November 1928

It’s been so long since I’ve written! Life with a bootlegger. It sounds like the title of a penny novel rather than my life, but that’s exactly what it is. Today is Thanksgiving and all the boys are coming over for a proper family meal. I’m wearing the new red dress Michael had made for me in Lexington. The waist is trimmed in white lace and there’s a string of fake pearls attached to the collar. I’ve been admiring myself in the mirror for too long. Cece will wonder what’s happened to me. Poor Cece, she’s having a terrible time of it lately. Daniell’s gone off on a bender, and she’s stuck here all alone caring for the little ones.

I help as much as I can. Every day Sophia’s sweet face and brown eyes remind me of my Elizabeth. It’s been more than a year since I left. I wonder how much she’s grown and if she looks any different than the little girl I remember. Michael caught me crying two days ago. Sophia had lost her favorite rag doll in the yard, and I went to help search for it. When I found it lying alone in the tall grass, it made me so incredibly sad. I hugged it to my chest as if it were my own real baby. I used to cry for her. I worried that she was scared and hurt by my absence. Now I cry for myself, for the emptiness that never gets filled up, no matter how much love Michael shows me.

Suddenly I don’t feel much like celebrating or wearing a pretty dress. I think maybe I’ll stop writing for a while. It’s too easy to remember when I don’t have to pretend I’m someone else.

4th April 1929

It finally feels like spring. I felt like a walk and decided to take you with me into the woods. Reading through all of my old entries, I can’t believe how much life has changed. The winter was long and cold and I’m desperate to stay outside and breathe the fresh air.

Life in the house has gotten complicated. Daniell and Michael have been at one another’s throats for weeks now. I think Daniell’s jealous of him. Michael is a leader and the men listen to him, respect him, and follow his directions without argument. Except his oldest brother, who does almost nothing but argue.

I heard Daniell tell Patrick that he thought Michael needed to be reminded of who is oldest. I wanted to say something, but I don’t want to stir up more trouble. Besides, Daniell still doesn’t trust me. I don’t want him looking too hard at my past.

I still haven’t told Michael about Elizabeth and Dutch and everything back in Illinois. I’m in so deep now, I just can’t seem to find the courage. But I’ll need to tell him soon. He’s been asking more and more questions. He wants to know about my family and my life before the hotel. I’m as honest as I can be, but am always careful to not reveal too much. I can tell he sees this. He’s been so patient with me. I owe him the truth.

Cece has been a godsend. She and the girls kept my spirits up when all but Patrick headed to Chicago for three weeks in January. Michael’s got some new business there. I was worried they’d be caught and thrown in jail or get into trouble with the gangsters we read about in the paper. He called a few times. He sounded tired and not himself. It was such a relief when I heard the car turn onto the drive one afternoon. I’ve grown to think of him as my husband. But not the kind I’m used to. One that takes care of me and loves me. More than that, he’s given me a reason to believe that the life I wanted, the one I sacrificed everything to have, is possible. A meaningful life that includes laughter and joy and promise.

I was sure I was pregnant last month. I was late getting my monthlies and my breasts were sore and swollen. I didn’t say anything, partly because I wanted to be sure and partly because I was afraid of how Michael would feel about it. We’re not really married, after all. A week later I woke up to terrible cramps and ruined sheets. I admit to feeling relieved. The thought of having another child terrifies me. When I got pregnant with Elizabeth, I was just seventeen. Dutch was delighted and, for a while, I was, too. Then we got married and I was finally free of my father’s house and all the bad memories there. But things soon changed.

It took only a few months after her birth for me to realize my dreams were over. All those ambitions I had as a girl were out of reach. I was smart, I could’ve gotten a job and earned a living. But Dutch wouldn’t allow it. I was popular, too, but he didn’t care for my friends and once we were married, I wasn’t allowed to see them anymore. He suffocated me. Not slowly, the way a gas leak can, but quick and painful. There were nights he’d lie asleep beside me and I’d swear I could feel his hands around my throat.

I thought once the baby came his needs might diminish, that he’d allow me some room to breathe. But, if anything, he became more demanding of my efforts, my body, and my time. Every day began and ended the same, with me attending to everyone but myself. I loved Elizabeth. I cherished every moment of quiet I could find with her, but they were few and far between. By the time I made up my mind to leave, it was a relief. What a terrible thing, but it’s true. It was a relief to know my time as a wife and mother was over.

How can I ever tell Michael what I’ve done? How selfish I’ve been? He won’t understand. No one would. I traded being a mother for being a person, one with a life in front of her. But the price was high. How can I ask him to forgive me for what I’ve done, when I’ll never be able to forgive myself?

10th April 1929

I’m waiting for Michael to come home. I acted foolishly today, and I’m afraid it’s put me in Daniell’s path. Cece, Sophia, and I were in the kitchen preparing dinner and he came in, stupid and stinking with ’shine. Sophia had left some wooden blocks on the ground, and he tripped over them and fell into the table. I knew what he was going to do before he took a single step. His eyes fixed on Sophia with a cutting rage.

All these months, I’ve tried so hard to keep from getting involved, but I couldn’t let him hurt that little girl. I stepped between them and shoved him backward with all the strength in my body. He fell into the wall and looked at me for a minute. Then he laughed and pointed a dirty finger at me. He said I’d regret it and called me a whore.

I don’t care about the insult. My father called me worse when he was drunk, but the expression on his face . . . He’s going to find a way to destroy me. I can feel it. I can’t wait for the earth to fall out from beneath me.

Tonight I’ll tell Michael everything and hope he can forgive me for what I’ve done.

12th April 1929

It’s over. My secret is out, and now I wait. Michael left the house after I told him, and he hasn’t been back since.

I’ve confessed everything to Cece, too. I needed to explain it to her, in case these are my last days at the house. She held me while I cried, and I think she cried a little, too. Maybe because she knows what it’s like to feel trapped and hopeless, maybe because she lost faith in a person she thought was her friend. I don’t know.

I held onto her until all my tears were spent. I cried for myself, for Elizabeth and Michael, and for her, too. I see so much of myself in Cece, but she could never do what I did. She could never leave her babies with a man like Daniell. He’d kill them just to spite her. At least Dutch loves Elizabeth. I know he’d never harm her. I don’t think Daniell has ever looked twice at his girls.

I can’t bring myself to pack my things, even though I know Michael may come back and throw me out. At least I had his love for a time. His true love. No one can take that from me.

15th April 1929

Michael got home sometime late in the night. I thought I heard a noise and went down to the kitchen. There he was, sitting at the table with his old hat in his hands. He looked at me and I was sure he was going to tell me to get out, that he didn’t love me anymore, but he got up and wrapped his arms around me instead. I tell you I wept for joy then. I held him so tight, it’s a miracle he could breathe. He apologized that it took so long for him to come home. He said, “I don’t care about your past. I love you. I want you to be my wife.”