Scandals in Savannah

by Harper Lin

  “Well, I told you that moonshine wasn’t a good idea,” she soothed.

  “I should have listened.” He rubbed his hand over his head and winced again. Becky had been there a few times. Although she’d never in a million years drink moonshine, she’d tossed back a few too many martinis on occasion and paid the price the following day.

  “Have you had any coffee? I can have Lucretia scramble you up some eggs.” Becky truly felt bad for the gent.

  “You have the natural instincts to make a swell wife. I’d never say a bad word about you. You’ve been nothing but kind and considerate of me and…” he gushed.

  Becky smiled. She was sure he was still drunk, but even if he wasn’t, those were not the words she wanted to hear.

  “Becky, I believe that if you’ll give me a chance, I will do everything within my power to make you happy and…”

  Before another word was spoken, Fanny sashayed into the room. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were receiving guests at this hour, and still in your nightclothes.” Fanny snickered. She extended her hand to Hugh, who sucked in his gut and got immediately to his feet.

  “What was it you were saying?” Becky asked, watching Hugh’s nervous, bloodshot eyes flit from her to Fanny’s cleavage and back again.

  “Oh, well, I really must be going.” Hugh cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Mother is waiting,” Becky snapped, glad to be rid of him. She turned and left the room, heading to the kitchen, where her little friend Teeter was sitting at the table and writing in a book.

  “Mornin’, Miss Becky,” Lucretia said as she stood at the stove, stirring some grits while tending to crackling bacon.

  “Good morning, Lucretia. Morning, Teeter. What are you writing there?”

  “I’m practicing my letters.” He held up the clunky, scribbly ABC’s he was working on.

  “Well, that is mighty fine. When you get to Z, will you write me a letter?” Becky asked.

  “I sure will. And I’ll write one to Mama and Pa and Miss Kitty and Mister Judge and Pastor Reed and…”

  “You’re going to be awful busy.” Becky winked.

  She poured herself a cup of coffee then headed back to her room. As soon as she shut the door, she took a seat at her vanity and watched out the window as Hugh Loomis climbed into his boiler and drove off. She hoped the grinding sound of the gears rattled his teeth and made his head pound. It wasn’t that he was such a bad person. But he shouldn’t have insinuated marriage to one woman while his lust for another was on full display.

  She took a sip of coffee, retrieved her sketchbook, and began to doodle. Before long, she had drawn out the face of the man she had danced with the night before. She also scribbled the circle with the line through it. It bothered her that this symbol was scratched into the wall at the Crazy Calico. Part of her wanted to go back. If she could find Patsy, he might know what it was all about.

  But it would have to wait. After the previous night being cut short, Martha and Teddy were ready to make up for lost time. Teddy moseyed over around one in the afternoon to tell Becky to put on her finest duds and bring bail money. She was thrilled.

  Chapter Five

  Willie’s Club was surrounded by trees and off the beaten path, but when Teddy pulled up to the joint, there were cars parked as far as they could see.

  “What are they doing, giving booze away?” Teddy asked.

  “I hope so,” Martha replied. “Find a spot, Jeeves.”

  “Of course, Madame.” Teddy spun the car into the first spot he could find, and within seconds, the entire group—including Fanny—was inside with their hands holding drinks and their toes tapping.

  “I have to admit, cousin, this is a much more respectable establishment than the Crazy Calico,” Fanny said as she sipped her champagne.

  “Yes, Becky. Why would you want to go to a dirty, illegal speakeasy with shady characters when you could go to a moderately cleaner illegal speakeasy with shady characters?” Martha asked before tossing back her second drink in fifteen minutes.

  “Me? You’re the one who picked that joint.” Becky shook her head. She was ready to continue arguing in her own defense, but an all-too-familiar face had just walked in.

  “Well, Teddy, Fanny, it looks like our time with Miss Becky is over. She’s more interested in that cool sip of water that just walked in,” Martha teased.

  “I haven’t talked to Adam in ages,” Becky said while swinging one leg across the other.

  “Oh, have you two had a falling out?” Fanny asked quickly while batting her eyes and straightening her posture. She had the attention of just about every gent in the place, but that wasn’t enough. Now that Adam White had walked in, it was a completely different ball game.

  “None of your business,” Becky snapped as she watched Adam, who was scanning the room. As soon as their eyes met, she looked away.

  “Now, don’t get fitsy with your cousin, Beck.” Martha patted Becky’s hand. “I’m sure she’s just looking out for you. Ain’t I right, Fanny?”

  “Of course,” Fanny said as she looked at Adam as if he were a slab of raw beef and she was a wolf.

  Adam White was a tall glass of cool water. He elbowed his way to the bar, nodded to the fellows on either side, and then turned to focus on Becky.

  “Aren’t you going to go talk to him?” Martha whispered in Becky’s ear.

  “No.”

  “Why not? You can’t still be sore about what he did.” Martha kept her voice low. “He’s from good stock, even if he is a Northerner. He was raised to be a gentleman. And the burden of being a gentleman means you act that way no matter what cat might be rubbing on your leg.”

  “I know, Martha.” Becky shook her head.

  Not long ago, there had been an incident. It wasn’t long after Fanny had come to town to stay indefinitely with the Mackenzies. Becky had felt she needed Adam, but he was too busy tending to Fanny. Adam felt Becky could handle herself and said he was just being polite to Fanny. But no matter how much he tried to reassure Becky, it seemed to make her madder and madder, until they weren’t speaking. This was the first time they’d seen each other in a while.

  “Go talk to him,” Martha urged.

  “I think I need another drink,” Fanny said and went to push her way out of the corner to approach the bar. With the reflexes of a cobra, Becky snatched the glass out of Fanny’s hand.

  “I’ll get it,” Becky said before standing up and marching toward the bar.

  Her red hair bounced around her face, and although she tried not to look directly at Adam, she couldn’t miss him. He was wearing a tight vest buttoned over his work shirt. It made his shoulders look even wider. His work boots were dull compared to some of the gents’ spit-shined spats. But Becky didn’t care. She wouldn’t care if he’d worn his bib overalls stained with ink from the press machines he worked on all the time. She thought he was the cat’s pajamas, but she was not going to let him know that. Not if he insisted on giving Fanny the attention she wanted.

  Becky wiggled her way between two fellows, one with a pencil-thin mustache and the other with a sparkling ruby ring on his pinky.

  “Buy you a drink, doll?” Mr. Pinky Ring asked.

  “Well, this actually isn’t for me. It’s for that dame over there.” She pointed to Fanny.

  Mr. Pinky Ring and Mr. Mustache nearly broke into a brawl deciding who would buy Fanny’s next round. As they sashayed across the floor to deliver her champagne cocktail, Becky pretended not to notice Adam standing right next to her.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I’m thirsty,” she replied.

  “Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I’m not hiding. Maybe you just weren’t really looking.” Becky didn’t want to snap at him. She wanted to kiss him. But her pride had taken up residence in her gut and was not willing to be evicted.

  “Becky, I don’t even know what I did. If you are
jealous of Fanny and think that I’d…”

  “I am not jealous of Fanny. I’m annoyed with Fanny. I’m tired of everyone tripping and falling all over themselves just to pick up a kerchief she blew her nose in,” Becky snapped.

  “So you want people to treat her as rudely as you do,” Adam replied with a smirk. A couple loose black curls fell over his forehead when Becky looked up at him. How dare he look so handsome when she was seething at him? Who did he think he was?

  “I don’t know why I’m the only one who sees it. She is a snake like the one in God’s garden.” Becky looked over her shoulder to see that the two men who had brought her cousin a fresh cocktail were now flanking her, laughing and fawning all over her. And she knew that out of the corner of her eye, Fanny hadn’t stopped watching her and Adam, calculating how she could undo anything Becky might put in place.

  “You’re not the only one, Becky.” Adam sniffed. “Give me a little credit.”

  “Right.” Becky harrumphed as she pointed to the ceiling. “If Fanny came over here and asked you to climb a ladder to fetch her one of those Chinese lanterns on the highest beam, you’d break your neck trying to do it for her.”

  “You think I’m that much of a pushover?” Adam replied.

  “When it comes to her? Yes.” Becky’s gut twisted, and she instantly regretted saying anything. She should have just let Fanny come to the bar and get her own drink. She should have let her throw herself at Adam and just dealt with the consequences. If anyone was pushing Adam right into her clutches, it was Becky herself, and she was disgusted with herself for it.

  “I guess you don’t know me as well as I thought you did,” Adam said.

  “I guess I don’t.”

  Adam downed the shot he had in front of him and ordered another.

  “So, where does that leave us?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t really have time to think about it right now,” Becky said, biting her tongue to make sure she didn’t start crying. She turned around and headed back to her table to snatch up her purse.

  “Where are you going?” Fanny asked.

  “Home,” Becky said without any emotion.

  “But Adam is here.”

  Becky looked at Fanny, who was looking at the bar, sizing Adam up.

  “You wouldn’t want anyone to scoop him out from under you.” Fanny smirked and licked her lips.

  “Tell Martha and Teddy I’ve left,” Becky said.

  “Hey, doll. What’s your hurry? Wait for me, and I’ll give you a lift,” the man with the thin mustache said.

  Becky hurried outside. Just as she was about to accept his offer she saw two people she knew.

  “Delilah, Zachary? I almost didn’t recognize you. Normally I see you two joined at the lips,” Becky said, swallowing her emotions.

  “I can’t help it, Beck. She won’t keep her hands off me,” Zachary said, getting a giggle and a playful swat on the arm from Delilah.

  “Hey, I got a shot of bad hooch. You think you can give me a ride?” Becky lied, but she couldn’t just spill the fact that her heart was breaking and she was going to be a blubbering mess if she didn’t get out of there.

  “Sure. Want to join us for a bite to eat downtown?” Delilah offered.

  As soon as Becky heard they were heading downtown, she had a better idea. “No thanks. But a lift downtown would be just what the doctor ordered.”

  She followed them to Zachary’s car and hopped into the back seat. The conversation was all about the fire and the death of Mr. Ruthmeyer.

  “I didn’t know the man, but I heard he was very handsome,” Delilah said.

  “I’d only seen him on a couple of occasions. Each time, he was growling at someone about something. I don’t think he and Mrs. Tobin were carrying on like people said,” Zachary admitted. “He was too mean. That’s why he was a bachelor. Couldn’t find a decent woman who’d handcuff herself to him. What do you think, Beck? He lives just off your property.”

  “We never had any problems,” Becky said as she watched the streetlights go by. “It was like we didn’t know he was even there.”

  Zachary and Delilah continued chatting in the front seat. But it was obvious from the way Becky stared out into the darkness that she wasn’t really listening. When they finally stopped the car, she hopped out.

  “Thanks for the lift,” Becky said, giving them each a hug.

  “Are you sure you won’t join us?” Delilah asked once more.

  “No thank you. I’ve got to stop at the apothecary down the street. I’ve got a friend there who will take me home. If she can’t, I’ll flag down a cab.” Becky waved cheerfully and hoped Delilah and Zachary wouldn’t ask any more questions. Thankfully, they waved good-bye before wrapping their arms around one another and walking off to one of the all-night diners.

  Becky headed in the opposite direction, thankful for the darkness and the shadows to hide the tears running down her cheeks. When she finally got to the apothecary, she was shocked to see so many people inside.

  Madame Cecelia was there, as if she had been expecting Becky all night.

  Chapter Six

  The apothecary numbered 784½ Bryn Mawr Street was jumping. Becky had never seen so many people in a drugstore in her whole life. Cecelia was behind the counter, wearing a lovely black dress with black fringe that shimmied with every move she made. Her ample bosom poured out the top and was the resting place for a huge green amber broach with a giant ant frozen in it.

  “If you follow my instructions, you’ll have no problems. I promise.” Madame Cecelia spoke to an older man who couldn’t have weighed more than eighty pounds. He had red cheeks and a nervous habit of tugging on his collar. She handed him a small paper bag that he took and quickly stuffed into his inside breast pocket. Then he handed over several dollars, slipped his hat back onto his head, gave Madame Cecelia a nervous smile, and earnestly exited the building.

  “You look like you are swamped,” Becky said. “I didn’t mean to stop by and get in the way.”

  “Sure you did,” Cecelia said, grinning.

  “I didn’t know where else to go.” Saying those words let some air out of her. “I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to go to another joint. I’m feeling lost.”

  “Well, aren’t you lucky. We specialize in finding lost things and setting them right. Go on upstairs. I’ll be up shortly. There are some strange cookies Mama made if you are feeling adventurous.”

  “They aren’t strange,” hissed Ophelia, Cecelia’s mother, as she scooted behind her daughter to grab some kind of salve in a jar from one of the higher shelves. The woman stood only a hair’s breadth over four foot nine but had the aura of a prize-fighting pugilist.

  Becky was happy for the invitation. She’d never thought she’d live to hear herself say she didn’t want to go to another dive for a drink or a dance, but here she was at this bizarre store that attracted the most unusual customers at night, and she was thankful there was no bar.

  The first time she had visited the store and gone upstairs, she had been bombarded by the specters of Cecelia’s entire gypsy family. It had been an overwhelming experience that knocked her on her backside and had her stretched out on their couch in the tiny upstairs apartment, in need of smelling salts like a hysterical Southern belle. But after a few visits, Becky had learned that the spirits each had their place and could be addressed just like any flesh-and-bone folks. So with careful, slow steps, she ascended the staircase that wound around and around like a corkscrew, careful of the candles and smelly herbs placed in the corners.

  The spirits had become accustomed to her and tipped their hats or curtsied or waved as she passed by. Except for Cousin Mimi. She scowled at Becky, called her names, and made rude gestures with her hands.

  “She did that to everyone in life. Death hasn’t changed her,” Ophelia said with a sour grimace on her face.

  Now Becky felt a certain kind of familiarity not just with Cecelia and her mother but with these spirits, too. O
f course, if her parents knew she was friends with the likes of gypsies, she would probably be sent to live in a convent. The thought made her think of Adam. He was a Northerner, which was just as bad as gypsies in the eyes of most home-grown Southerners. What was it about these societal outcasts that drew Becky to them?

  She contemplated this as she gingerly stepped into the apartment. It was small, with white walls and a fire escape just outside the window. The window was open just a crack, and fresh, cool air was coming in. The entire house smelled of exotic incense that burned continually in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus. But that was the only familiar thing in the place. Everything else—the pictures, the statues, and the knickknacks—was a jumble of curiosities that Becky loved to study with her artist’s eye.

  But tonight, she hadn’t the desire to study their décor. She walked to the small kitchenette and saw the cookies Ophelia had been talking about. They were square things that looked like they had chocolate chips in them. Becky took one bite and realized they were not chocolate chips but dark, almost black dates. When her taste buds were expecting something comforting like chocolate and were instead slapped with the taste of a date, it made her entire body disappointed.

  “Well, I can’t put it back.” Becky grimaced and took the cookie to the small table by the window and sat down.

  It wasn’t long before Cecelia came through the door, rolling her eyes. “My mother is begging for me to kill her,” Cecelia said, removing the scarf from her thick black hair.

  “What has she done?” Becky asked, swallowing the last of the cookie with great effort.

  “Any male customer who comes in not wearing a wedding ring she’s introducing me to. I’m busy with a lady who has a cyst in an uncomfortable place. I’m not looking for a husband. I’m looking for the medicine to help that go away. But Mama has to stop me in the middle of things to whisper in my ear, ‘Mr. So-and-So has no wife. He believes in our customs. Shall I put a desire spell on him?’”